Umbra 23, 228: Redcaps and Roslin

Roslin and Tyrel discuss the arrival of the new ambassador.

Redcaps and Roslin
Summary: Log Summary
OOC Date: October 23. 2013 (OOC)
Related: None
Tyrel Roslin 
Halls of the Castle
Walking through the halls of the Castle.
Umbra 23, 228

A guardsman moves past at a run pausing just long enough to turn to Roslin and say, "Princess, Redcaps are scaling the walls, quickly, hide yourself." The guardsman then rushes on out of the room.

<FS3> Tyrel rolls Reaction-2: Failure.
Tyrel is chuckling a bit loudly to hide well as he watches from the just outside the door.

<FS3> Roslin rolls Reaction: Failure.

Roslin is a million miles away, mentally, when the man comes running by. Dressed in a brown brocade dress with pearls on the hems and a gold tiarra, the girl nearly jumps out of her skin as the guard runs past. Her maid seems a bit more jumpy, though uncertain - likely she was not around when Tyrel used to pull such pranks. “Madame?” The maid asks her mistress. Roslin just gives the girl a wry look. “There are no redcaps, my dear. Merely wisps of a familial nature.” She turns, then, to look behind her. But there is nothing to see or to react to, so she simply gestures to the empty hall as if to prove her point before turning back the way she had been walking.

Tyrel moves forward after a few seconds saying, “Wisps of a familial nature? What a clever way of saying such things.” He glances toward where the guard has continued on to carry out his true errand. “Good day, sister.” He nods to the maid as well gesturing for her to carry on without the curtsey.

“I came across another prankster yesterday, gadding about in the Mask getup that seems so popular and when I heard your voice it seemed a good chance to give a nod to Umbra.” His long strides bring him alongside Roslin quickly, “Would you have a few moments to talk?”

“So long as it isn’t about that childish mask.” Roslin responds, moving slowly and comfortably with her brother, her maid having dropped off behind to give them some privacy. “Masks and Redcaps … if you wish to frighten me as you used to, you shall have to do better.” The smile he gets is one of playfulness, at least for the moment. “But of course I am always at your service. My time is yours.” She gestures simply with her hand before bringing it to meet the other lightly in front of her, as is her preferred stance. She goes quiet to listen to his words.

Tyrel chuckles, “Ah, sister, if I truly wished to terrify you I would find some bumpkin who has for some reason been found to belong to a noble line and inform you that you’ve been married to gain some ridiculous asset, on the condition that you live with said bumpkin…probably in the mountains somewhere where news would reach you slightly after it reached Priest Tibiank.”

(Priest Tibiank is well known for being both deaf and stubborn, it is said that Sess himself once appeared to Tibiank to pass along a message but after twenty minutes gave up and opted to have a nice relaxing battle with Nar.)

Tyrel continues, “I’ve come on a different matter than shocking you, though, I was curious of your opinion of the new ambassador. I understand you and he shared a dance and some quiet words. What can you tell me of him? Other than that he is…oh how did that maid put it…a tall drink of dark whiskey?”

Roslin gives her brother a bit of a sidelong glare, playful in nature but only just. “Your humor is lacking, brother,” she says wryly, no doubt simply because the prospect he just outlined would in fact be terrifying to the girl. Or any girl. As the discussion turns to the new Ambassador, Roslin glances forward again. Her face doesn’t change, but when the words ‘tall drink of dark whiskey’ leave his mouth, she flushes pink in the cheeks. “I would tell you how handsome he is, but you have eyes I am sure,” she teases. “I have found him to be everything one would expect a foreign Prince to be when situated as an Ambassador - he is exotic, but not overly so; he knows our customs as well as his own and dances better than most Mobrin men I have had the pleasure to turn with; he is seemingly gentle and kind with the ladies, and bold and daring with the gentlemen.” Roslin glances once more at her brother, mischief sparking on her lips. “But then I imagine you are more interested to hear what he said to me about his desires here in Mobrin, and the desires of his father, are you not?” She chuckles a little. “It actually says quite a bit for the man when he can have a woman press him on such issues during such a delicate dance, and never miss a step.”

“I have eyes, but not for men, thankfully, though both his presence and his plans are of interest to me. If he is charming but lacking in restraint there could be difficulties.” He smiles, “I’d prefer not to go to war over an ambassador’s misunderstanding of our customs and being overly flirtatious with a lady of the castle. I’ll have to practice my dancing, though, if the men of Mobrin are comparing so poorly.”

He waits a moment then says, “You may also wish to wear a touch more powder, sister, the rose of your cheeks showed through rather clearly when you considered the ambassador’s intoxicating sobriquet. So, what did he say to you, that weren’t words a brother does not wish to hear?”

Roslin touches her cheek for a moment, looking up at her brother. Hearing his full words, she simply shakes her head and smirks. “I am a lady in my own right, and the man need not be terribly flirtatious for women to fawn over him. He appears every bit of a cultured gentleman with the exotic touch of a foreigner - and a Prince besides. You need not fear for me though - my words to him and him to me were entirely as you would expect of me, and have lost no love for me to have heard. Why, he even let me pet his tiger - a beast bigger than any dog, and of colors that only the setting sun among pure clouds can provide.” She lowers her hand, nodding to another courtier as she and her brother pass in their slow walk. She speaks lowley, for his ears only. “The man comes as the last unwed of four brothers already married. His father, he revealed to me, is most keen on a military alliance. He is equally keen that Prince Naazir should find himself an appropriate bride on this escapade. The Prince, however, does not particularly care for that plan.” She glances up at her brother with a keen look, then straight ahead again. “It might do well to have the basis for a counter-offer prepared that does not involve marriage. The Prince will request a diplomatic engagement - he is his father’s servant after all - and though he may not admit it, he will be seeking an alliance that leaves him a bachelor, if we can provide the way.”

Tyrel considers this for a few moments then nods, “I will be sure to keep that counsel in mind, sister, though do have a caution in assuming that his words can be taken at face value. He may already be positioning to downplay the value of a marriage so that the balance of his negotiations might be inflated. I’ve heard any number of ladies and lords have played at similar games choosing histrionics or sullen gloom to gain a few more grants.” He continues walking his hand resting on his sword for a moment, “Though, I do not think your hand will be in consideration for this agreement, I’ll see if perhaps a Lady could be found whose value was rather low without being obviously insulting so that should he reject the match or depreciate it there is little loss.”

Roslin nods as she listens. “I do not trust his words, brother. My motivations for my recommendation were for the lady in mind. For while the Prince is handsome, with a strong reputation as a warrior, and a gentleman, he is still a nonbeliever. Worse - he worships his father as though the man himself were a God. I do not well see how we could sanction a match between a follower of the Light and such a religion. I do not think our people - or the lady’s family - would take well to it” She glances up at him once, as though to try and read his face, and then continues speaking. A smile crosses her lips. “I know one day I shall marry, but father has indicated he has other plans for me. I do not think marrying and leaving for Jadda to be one of them. But forgive me, brother, but would putting a lesser lady up as an option for marriage be more insulting than putting none up at all? At least with an offer of marriage, he could make the case that the woman not worthy enough and look for other compensation. If no marriage at all were made, and the alliance built strictly on other matters, I daresay we would be able to escape without giving more than the Jaddan do.”

Tyrel smiles, “Whenever possible, sister, a maneuver should contain a threat. The stipulations of the marriage should, I think, include that she be accompanied by such attendants are required to see to her comfort. This would include a priestess of the light, and a priest to see to the needs of her guards while in Jadda. In this way we gain a missionary foothold as well as a marriage. As for the worth of the Lady, there is no lady in our court that I would offer that he would be able to show a positive objection to…he might judge one too plain, or to come from a less preferred family, but those are subjective matters that he could and should object to no matter who is presented to him. By not offering at all we risk that he brings it up at the last moment forcing us into a defensive position.”

Roslin smiles fondly, flushing a little in the cheeks as she listens to her brother speak. “Very well - you have convinced me of the merit of presenting the man with possible wives. But who should we present?” Roslin lifts her eyes as she thinks. “The Haraveans have daughters and sisters enough, but I do not see Aldren agreeing to that as long as he has breath in his lungs. The Kincaids have a cousin, very pretty - she would be an exotic addition to Jadda.” She continues to think as they walk. “Lady Nimue of house Forrester is of age and not married. I would not suggest anyone from Ruxton or Weston - tensions between them and Jadda are already high enough.” She turns her eyes upward to her brother, to see if he is keen on continuing the discussion of potential marriagable women.

Tyrel smiles, “I think I will leave the matchmaking, at present, to those who keep better tabs on such matters, like mother. I only wished to discuss the strategies of the war, not the tactics of the battles.” His squire approaches, bows and Tyrel gestures him nearer. The young man informs the prince that his horse and armor are ready. Tyrel smiles broadly, “Ah, splendid. Sister, if you will excuse me, it has been far too long since I’ve had an opportunity to ride and one of the knights who arrived on the ships had a wager with me regarding riding rings that we are going to settle.”

Roslin doesn’t miss a beat. “Leave this battle with me, then,” She suggests, bowing her head slightly to him in respect. “I will see it done - with Mother’s word, of course.” She lifts her face to him, looking bright and hopeful. She waits for his word on the matter before he moves off.

Tyrel nods, “I expect you will, but do be sure to involve Ciarrah as well, as an ambassador who has married into the family she should have some insight into the matter.” He chuckles then his soft blue eyes take up some of the sparkle and steel of the father’s, “Now then, a bit of sport before my next meeting.” He starts off then pauses turning back to Roslin, “Do let me know if you hear word as to who the origin of this Mask business relates to. I’ve suspicions but I would prefer to hear it from someone else without prompting.” He then moves to break away towards the practice fields.

Roslin nods once, dipping low into a curtsey of respect. “Of course,” she says, rising as her brother walks off.

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