Inouv 13, 228: Sutherland's Open Door

Sutherland's Open Door
Summary: Lord Sir Ronan Crawford's open door to his office receives a number of visitors, mostly royal. It begins with an amusing conversation with Princess Ciarrah and after a brief mobbing, wraps up with Sir Roane Leask.
OOC Date: 02/12/2013 (OOC)
Related: Nothing particular.
Players:
Ronan Ciarrah Tyrel Roslin Kierne Roane 
Sutherland Attache Office, Darfield Castle
This is a small office, but it does have burnished hardwood floors, a light cream paint on the walls, and a single window looking out. There is a small table with three chairs close to the door, with a rug beneath to create a small sitting area. At the back, there is a desk, with a chair behind it. Several shelves have some books and art work, including a small model of several horses running. There are several table lamps, and some wall sconces to provide additional light, and atop the desk, there are several compartments for holding ink, quill pens, and paper. This appears to be an office made for work.
13th of Inouv

Afternoon after his evening return to Darfield finds the new Duke of Sutherland in the suites formerly afforded to his brother, and before him, to Ronan's father. Finally the Rioga has time to sit down and start going through papers in the desk, whatever had not already been forwarded to him previously or that he hadn't skimmed through lightly on his first visit. So much to do and catch up on but thankfully it is winter and things are quieter than they might otherwise be.

Ronan is seated behind the desk reading, loose papers sorted all over the desk and a few folders stacked to one side. He is out of his plate and maile he arrived in and is wearing instead a handsomely made doublet in browns and golds, trimmed in black. Sometimes it is nice to get away from the monotomy that is his House colors and relax. Dark brown pants, black riding boots heeled with his golden spurs, and dagger in his belt complete his more laid back attire.

Dressed in the colors of Kilgour, a royal purple dress with gilt thread that does nothing to disguise the very rounded belly of the wife of the Crown Prince, Ciarrah arrives at the office of the Sutherlands with her handmaid Serah and her guard Davyd in tow. Davyd stops at the door, but Serah remains at her side as she lifts a closed hand and raps gently on the door.

After a moment, she looks around the room she had just walked through and has to smile, if somewhat sadly, remembering the previous occupants with fondness. So that is the expression she wears if he answers the summons of the knock.

"Enter!" It is a baritone rumble that is used to shouting across military camps more than being an 'inside' voice. Ronan does not at once look up from the papers he is perusing, finishing reading the paragraph before he marks his place by laying a paper weight on top of it. A small golden horse running and set into a piece of Sutherland marble. Dark eyes lift to study the woman who comes in through the door and after the barest hesitation to place her, Ronan moves to stand. His spurs faintly chime with his movement.

The dress, the blonde hair, her approximate age and presant condition are all noted. "Do I … have the honor and privilage of addressing her Highness, the Princess Ciarrah, my Lady?" The Duke inquires, uncertain.

Once inside, Ciarrah offers a bow of her head, a look of chagrin crossing her features when she is unable to bow or curtsy properly. Her maid at her side manages to do so very well though. "Your Grace," the greeting is spoken with a friendly and softspoken voice, eyes sparkling as she regards him. "Indeed, I am Princess Ciarrah Kilgour. I do hope I am not interrupting your work, I would never wish to cause issue with my presence." The words are tentative, yet curious, having seen him place the paper weight down after reading. "I could return at a more pleasing time for you, if you prefer?"

"Absolutely not, your Highness." It's almost spoken more like an order, but then Ronan checks himself and softens his tone, "You are most welcome here, my Lady. Please be welcome to have a seat?" The Crawford Rioga comes around his desk to move the chair for her to make it easier for Ciarrah to take the seat if she so cares to. He will even remember his manners enough to offer her a hand to escort her to it if she wishes to accept it, then Ronan gives her a half bow with his other fist briefly over his heart as suitable to her station - and in acknowledgement of her future position as Queen.

"May I offer you any refreshement? Tea, perhaps?" The other chair is indicated for her handmaiden that she not be forgotten. Ronan flicks his dark eyes towards the door to check to see if his Sutherland guards sent for his man servant or squire to serve them.

Hearing the implied order, Ciarrah does not flinch. Instead, a smile tugs more fully at her lips and she regards him with genuine amusement, though more softened and sweet than the sharp edges of disdain by the more jaded of the nobility. "Thank you, Your Grace." Accepting the hand to the seat, gracefully sinking onto the chair, crossing her legs at her angles and sitting somewhat angled, hands on her lap.

After Ciarrah had taken her seat, Serah nods and moves into the other chair, offering a smile of thanks while sitting much the same as her charge. Once Serah is also settled, Ciarrah lifts her chin and regards the man with open curiosity. "Tea would be lovely, thank you. I was so curious, I admit, to finally meet you. I knew Cedric and Terrwyn very well, they were my first friends here in this city when I arrived."

Ronan has by this time moved to the door and makes a 'hurry it the hell up' sort of gesture, rude or not, to one of his guards outside. The man hurries off to go and see that tea, or a suitable servant is brought. The other Sutherland guard keeps to his post with Ciarrah's own guard, watchful. Ronan walks back around his desk with his calloused hands behind his back. No, not the slender hands of a dandy but powerful hands.

"Tea it shall be, shortly, your Highness." The younger Crawford stops to listen and consider his reply ere he speaks low, "You very likely knew them better than I, your Highness, in these later years. I was not oft at Trueborn Keep but afield. You have my condolences upon the loss of your husband's cousin, the Lady Terriwyn." A slight hesitation, then Ronan adds, "As well as for the difficulties posed in the past on behalf of my sister."

Blue eyes follow him as he moves around, but Ciarrah hurriedly moves her gaze back to the desk top when he makes the gesture, pretending she had not seen it. Unable to hide her merriment though, her lips twitch when she finally regards him again, eyes moving from his hands to his face. "Thank you, please call me Princess Ciarrah, if you prefer?" Not daring to give him the liberties of a titleless name. Her husband would be very displeased with her. Again.

"We shared Aberdeen wine once upon a time, and if I am not mistaken, I have a bottle or two left, and if you would like, I could have it delivered to you? As a welcome, please allow the gift." Turning hopeful eyes to his. At his condolences, she bows her head slightly, "They will be missed, I am deeply appreciative of your sentiments, though I know they both would wish for life to go on. Please, accept my condolences as well."

It takes several minutes but eventually a young man arrives carrying a tray of tea. He is about 16 or 17 years of age with short curly blondish-brown hair, a handsome enough face in a not especially remarkable way, and wears a quilted black velvet tunic with a nice belt set with small gold flowers - Lakeshire roses perhaps. Kierne takes the tray to a small side table used for serving and sets it there before he begins to pour tea for the women. As yet, Ronan's squire says nothing for he has not yet been introduced.

Ronan has not yet retaken his seat, "Ah, there's my squire. Lord Kierne Kincaid, this is the Princess Ciarrah, wife of our Crown Prince." The look the Rioga gives the young man as he serves tea and bows is suggestive of being on the squire's very best behavior. The Duke finally takes his own seat, "I would be most pleased, Princess. I would also care to reciprocate in kind if you have a taste for Sutherland red. It's strong I'll warn you, tanic and not sweet, but smooth." He speaks as a man fond of it himself.

A brief pause now that the formalties are dispensed with. The Crawford folds his hands on his desk, "Thank you. Now, what can I do for you, your Highness?"

Upon the arrival and the announcement of the squire by the Sutherland Duke, Ciarrah falls silent, for the introductions. "It is a pleasure meeting you, Lord Kierne Kincaid. I think it fortunate you happened to squire under a Rioga Knight." It is meant as a compliment but could possibly come across a little condescending to someone who does not know her so well to know she would never be deliberately rude.

As the Duke agrees to the wine and offers his own in return, the merriment returns to her expression. "I would be honored to accept your own. Aberdeen Ambrosia is perhaps sweeter, made with the plumpest of the grapes grown in the small vineyard on Aberdeen. Small, for the island affords little space for rambling ventures."

At the hesitation, Ciarrah regards him with a half smile, a somewhat lopsided one. "Oh yes, down to business then? It would be my cue to speak of the specific reasons for my arrival?" Unclasping her hands she rests one on the roundness of her belly while the other resides on the arm of the chair and she looks rather solemn. Or she attempts to anyway. "I regret to inform you, Your Grace, that I have come to disturb your peace and tranquility for absolutely no reason at all other than a social call and to meet the Duke of Sutherland."

Kierne is trying hard not to embarass himself as he did before the Crown Prince on his last visit. He stiffly smiles, "Very fortunate indeed, your Highness. My own knight was slain with Duke Pallow Craford and his forces when the Laniveer invaded Weston. Sir Ronan took me under his charge shortly before the Battle for Westgate rather than send me home. I am grateful." A quick glance to his Rioga to confirm that now is the time for him to shut up and go stand by the wall. Yep.

Ronan watches his squire but Kierne is doing all right. A bit nervous perhaps but no terrible blundering. The Sutherlander's attention returns to Ciarrah and a dark brow rises. Almost it looks like Ronan has no idea what to say to her confession and then, he's trying NOT to burst out laughing. He moves a hand to hide his mouth, trying to fein leaning against his hand for a moment while seated at his desk.

After cleaing his throat, Ronan lowers his hand and simply smiles, "Please forgive my social awkwardness, Princess. I am pleased to have you visit." What the hell might they discuss?? After trying to think of something, Ronan attempts not to fumble, "Do you have any word on when King Callem is expected to return, or news of the Queen's birthing of her child?"

When the squire speaks in return to her, Ciarrah keeps her gaze on him, her smile patiently polite with a touch of sympathy. "I am sorry about your loss, though I commend both you and your Knight for finding a way to make the best of an undesirable situation. It is very admirable when one can find something good in unfortunate circumstances."

Seeing the hand to the mouth, Ciarrah can only guess why it is there, but since she is amused herself, she offers a look of barely contained laughter. "I am pleased you are pleased for my visit, Your Grace." Deliberately echoing his words for the amusement factor. "I have heard no word of the return of the King and his entourage, though Prince Tyrel spoke to me of the Queen giving birth to his new sibling. Perhaps my own will wait a little longer, at least until the month of Inouv has passed. How are you liking it here?"

The Sutherlander flicks his gaze briefly to his squire and by the faint smile, Ronan seems for the most part pleased with Kierne. Nothing readable otherwise. "I trust the Queen is well and the child healthy. Aye, not the ideal month for bearing." Ronan has not taken tea himself but he has a cup upon his desk which he picks up, catches Kierne's eye, and sets back down. His squire takes the cue to open the side table cabinet and from it remove a flaggon to pour a deep red clear wine into Ronan's cup. The youth picks up the wine and tastes of it himself in place of the Duke's more usual poison tester before the goblet is replaced. Kierne leaves the flaggon and resumes his post by the door against the wall.

Ronan doens't touch the wine but waits, "It is cold here, Princess. I prefer Sutherland, to be blunt. Nonetheless there are duties I must see to while the winter is yet quiet. A wife to seek, social connections to forge, and to see that the King's needs are met with whatever troops, horses, or gold as Sutherland can provide should they be needed come the spring."

The unspoken communications between the Knight and Squire, if noticed, are largely left unspoken about, preferring to allow the two the privacy such a relationship should probably require. Ciarrah is not exactly certain of relations held there, but to her, they surely are special. "Yes, it seems so. I have been keeping to my room mostly of late, walking through the corridors is so tiring and my maid and guard take care of most things for me at the present." Indeed she does look beyond ready to birth the baby, but she does not seem inclined to do so at the moment.

Both brows arch at the tasting from the squire and she does blatantly look between them. "You allow a Lord to test your wine for you?" Perhaps there is a bit of reproach in her voice, though she looks more surprised than anything else. His honest answer as to his preferences bring a more relaxed smile. "I have not been to any of the vassal houses of yet, only my own Kingdom of my father, King Aberdeen." Ciarrah had been a princess in her own right even before wedding the Prince and bringing the two Kingdoms to an agreement. She looks at him once more and cannot help but to smile.

"A wife to seek?" Already her mind is connecting people she knows, then she realizes what she was doing and blushes. "Are you seeking a match with any particular Kingdom or House? Surely you have something in mind you would like for Sutherland and its future?"

Kierne hasn't keeled over dead, turned funny colors, or started choking so Ronan picks up his goblet and tastes his wine after a little time. Ronan pauses, "No, usually not. I have a man servant who normally tests my food and wine, your Highness. He is presantly ill and another is being sent to take his place." Ehm, no elaboration on how or why said person is ill. "Whom else would I trust? I certainly do not care to needlessly risk him for I value him much." Kierne didn't look like he was worried about it.

"Ships," The new Duke says without hesitation, "While there are a good many things I will consider, armed ships would help ensure Sutherland's coastal security, Princess Ciarrah. I would not care for what happened at Trueborn Keep to be repeated in some form in the future, Princess. I resent the murder of my kin rather sternly."

Ciarrah gasps at the confession. "Ill?!" A slight hesitation.. "Was it.. food or.. drink?" Looking between he and his squire once more with more genuine concern. Dismayed, she does not presently touch the tea now, but looks to Serah and shakes her head, not allowing her maid to touch it either.

His change of subject is most welcome and she grasps it. "Perhaps my sister then," she says rather cheekily. "I could have sent for her, had I known. We have the most renowned ship builder and the Kilgours got several ships for my position here in Mobrin."

Someone is knocking at the door.

Tyrel arrives from the Sutherland Suite.

Tyrel raps his knuckle on the doorway as he enters.

The Crawford Duke offers Ciarrah a thin smile, "I think it is but illness, your Highness. Damp lung with wet cough and fever. The Gods will decide if he lives or dies but Darfield has good healers. So unless House Kilgour will kindly supply me with a trusted poison taster, my squire will have to do for now until either mine recovers or another arrives from Sutherland. Kierne volunteered until such is arranged."

At the knock, Ronan who is seated behind his desk with a cup of red wine, raises his baritone, "Enter!" Two Sutherland guards and Ciarrah's own guard stand watch outside the door. The Princess herself and her handmaiden occupy comfortable chairs fronting the Duke's desk and Kierne, Ronan's squire, holds the wall up to the right of the entry by the side table set with tea pot and tray for the women.

As yet the tea pot and tray are untouched at the mention of poison tasters and illness. Ciarrah has refrained from indulging herself, yet she had not used a taster for things her own maids had brought to her in the past. "Have you had.. threats on your life, Your Grace?" This seems to trouble her to be sure and she clasps her hands once more. "I am certain there would be no volunteers among the servants, yet if you hired a commoner from the town?"

At the knock, Ciarrah turns slightly in her chair and looks back towards the door, almost expecting an assassin or something through the door now with all of the cloak and dagger poison talk.

Tyrel enters, "Thank you." He looks about his attention focusing on Ciarrah, then turning back to Ronan. "You'll forgive the intrusion, Ronan. I wished to make Ciarrah aware I would be out of the castle for a few hours and inquire as to her health before I left." He stops inside the door his hands folding behind his back, "Ciarrah, you look nervous."

At Tyrel's arrival, Ronan once more moves to stand, giving his Crown Prince a slight bow and touching fist to heart, "Young Majesty, it is no intrusion as you are always welcome here." The Sutherlander pauses while the Prince and Princess confer before he answers Ciarrah, "I will entrust it to no hired man, your Highness. Anyone I may hire can be easily paid more by another. So I trust only those I know whom are loyal and within whom I have no reason to doubt." Ronan retakes his seat, "No, your Highness. With my kin recently murdered, and as it looks as though they must have had inside help within the Keep to do so, you will forgive my precautions I hope."

Tyrel is standing by the door with his hands folded behind his back, Ciarrah is seated and Ronan is just retaking his seat. The conversation echoing into the room outside recently strayed to the murder of Ronan's family.

As soon as Tyrel arrives, Serah scurries to her feet, curtsying even as she moves out of the way of the chair in case the Prince would like it. Ciarrah also rises, but it is much slower, as her belly is more cumbersome. "My Prince." Her entire expression changes, there is delight that flickers in her eyes before it is immediately tempered. She offers him a bow of her head, as good as she can give in her current state. "Yes, My Prince." She does not question him, but it is there in her expression, a curiosity. "My health is fine, I assure you. I have only been more tired lately is all," confessing her weakness quietly.

"It makes sense, Your Grace, to trust few. I suppose it would not be a bad idea to have something such as that, though it is but one more in an entourage of many." Ciarrah and her handmaid Serah are on the front side of the desk in the room with tea on a tray while Ronan is on the other. His squire is against the wall near the door and Prince Tyrel has just arrived in the room. "I understand your fortitude in remaining safe, especially after what did happen before."

Roane arrives from the Sutherland Suite.

Footsteps are quick to follow Tyrel's entrance, and as they round the corner to the door it becomes clear - they belong to the young Princess Roslin. Her red hair has been pulled up in a crown of braids, with a gold tiarra situated among them. Her dress is brown with pressed gold leaves, high-necked and embroidered with little freshwater pearls. Around her throat is a gold eight-pointed star tied with a ribbon. Her own maid follow, staying behind and out of the way. She moves her eyes from Tyrel, who she was obviously chasing, to the rest of the group. She becomes a bit more composed, a bit taller, a bit more princess-like. "Forgive me," she breathes, bowing her head respectfully. "I meant to catch my brother, but I chased him too far. His stride is so much longer than mine … oh, your highness." Ciarrah gets a particular look of pleasure and her own respectful nod. Yes, just for her.

Ronan thins his mouth at what Ciarrah says to him, "I am not usually concerned about my safety, your Highness. I assure you it is low among my concerns - except that I am the last male of the direct line of my House. I do not care for Crawford blood to forever perish too easily. Not without a … fight." As there are ladies presant, the Rioga is careful not to allow the colorful adverbs to slip his tongue.

Ah, more arrivals. The Rioga moves to stand, wine cup in hand. Currently Ronan is himself wearing a doublet of browns, golds and black with dark brown pants, tall black riding boots, a dagger and his golden spurs. He subtly lifts a brow at Roslin's arrival, she apparently matching his own attire for colors. "Good evening and welcome, your highness."

For a moment it might be that Tyrel is without his shadow, but that wouldn't do. Roane is a few breathes behind both Tyrel and the princess who chases him into the room. He brings up the rear, stepping just inside the door and moving slightly to his right. There are a lot of important people within, and he introduces himself with a deep bow that is directed to the room as a whole, before he stands up straight and lets his gaze drift lazily from face to face.

Tyrel laughs as the room suddenly becomes crowded, he moves further into the room to stand beside Ciarrah allowing Roslin to enter. He leans down to kiss Ciarrah on the top of her head then looks back to Roslin, "Your company is always welcome, Roslin, it is so much easier on me that way as your company is more difficult to avoid than that of a priest when confession is overdue. I assume everyone is aware of each other. Ciarrah, Ronan, Roslin, Roane…" he continues on naming everyone in the room including the guards, he only hesistates for a moment on the names of Ronan's guards but he comes up with them after a heartbeat.

Ronan's squire, Kierne, notes the crowding. He bows to the royals and says low, "I'll be outside if I'm wanted." The young man dressed subtly in Kincaid colors steps out into the hall to make room.

Just after the arrival of the Crown Prince and Ciarrah having stood, despite her very obviously pregnant belly, she watches as others pour into the room and offers them each a respectful nod, except for the Princess. Roslin gets a warm smile and a deeper incline, though bowing or curtseying is out of her physical abilities at the moment. "Princess Roslin, it is so good to see you."

The former Aberdeen Princess turns her attention back to Ronan, noting his concerns with a sympathetic expression. "I understand your wishes of earlier even moreso now and I do hope you manage to find exactly what it is you need in regards to it." Ciarrah is wearing a royal purple gown with gold threading that fits her well, despite her large belly. Blue eyes graze over Roane, whom is familiar as her husbands shadow, and he is given a brief smile though once more, she looks back to Tyrel.

"We have met, yes. Thank you, My Prince." She lifts her hand to take his arm more for the steadiness as she remains standing than for anything more. Serah, her maid, curtsies to the princess and quickly moves back to the shadows, out of sight and mind.

Tyrel slips an arm around Ciarrah providing her with support.

Something about Roane looks familiar to him. The Crawford Rioga eyes his fellow knight and thinking he may remember having met the other on previous occasions, lightly touches his fist to his chest in quiet salute. Ronan then sips his wine and studies the various individuals in turn as they discourse. For the moment he says nothing, allowing his squire to step out.

"One cannot be too comfortable in his own life, Tyrel. Laziness is bred in such ways. I merely provide you with the surprise pleasure of my company to keep you fit." Roslin shoots back, bringing up something of what appears to be a familiar tete-e-tete with him. Roane recieves a nod of respect as well - the two know each other, especially from Roslin's relationship with Tyrel. The poor Rioga has heard everything from cries heralded bby a skinned shin to tactical and political discussions from the girl. But Ciarrah is the real treat. Roslin is exceedingly pleased to lay eyes on the girl, and it shows. "Your highness, I am so happy to see you out taking the air again. You are generally so very hard to find."

"I think I've met most before." Roane replies simply. His voice is dry with the understatement. Certainly with regards to Tyrel's wife and sister. Ronan not as much, though he has no doubt encountered the knight before, just not at such close quarters. He lifts his own hand to return the salute in addition to a simple nod. He looks comfortable amongst the current company, slipping his arms behind his back and even giving a rare smile at Roslin's words to her brother.

Kierne has not been idle. He returns with a new tray with more cups. Carefully the squire slips in to serve those who have gathered in his Lord's office to see that deep red Sutherland wine or hot tea, is offered to all of the new arrivals who might wish for it. Kierne does so as unobtrusively as he may.

Ronan's deep baritone rumbles to speak up, "Please be welcome to refreshment. Kierne and myself have tasted the wine and vouch for it." And because they are such important guests, Ronan's squire smiles and offers to take Ciarrah's handmaiden's tea that she has yet not touched. If she will allow him, he tastes it himself as demonstration that it must be safe.

The Duke stands behind the desk that formerly belonged to his late brother Cedric, and before him, Sir Pallow Crawford, their sire. "Please be welcome to sit. Or, if you prefer, we may relocate to more comfortable quarters … such as the Salon?"

Tyrel smiles, "I apologize but despite the pleasant company I just continue on my journey. Sir Roane, would you be good enough to stay and arrange a time when we might take the practice field together. I've a wish to see how Bowen fairs against Kierne and if the squires are to duel then I should like to test my blades against Ronan's as well." The ploy is transparant as Tyrel obviously just wants to duel. "Roslin, I will be away for the better part of the day, don't let my wife enter into any snowball fights."

"I apologize, Your Highness," Ciarrah says softly to Roslin. "At first I was very ill and since, I have been very tired. I should have made it a point to get out more." The gesture from the squire is not missed and she gives him a grateful smile along with a light self-chastising look. When her husband speaks up, her attention is diverted to him, though when he addresses everyone other than her she simply releases his arm so that he may leave if he wishes.

"They'll no doubt learn much from watching two experienced hands play at swords. I'll see that it is arranged." Yes, of course. A wonderful learning experience for the squires. The amusement is in Roane's eyes, but he doesn't let it get as far as his mouth. That would ruin his frown lines. He inclines a bow to his prince when the man readies to depart.

Kierne is clearly nervous of the royals and trying not to embarrass himself, his Duke, or get in the way of the Kilgours. Ciarrah gains a hint of a shy smile from him and then he goes back to serving any who will accept it before he looks to the talk of squires sparring. Suddenly Kierne looks hopefully to Ronan.

"I don't see any reason not." Agrees Ronan to Tyrel's proposal, even if the Prince's words were directed to Roane and not himself. "I shall look forward to it. A good evening to you, Young Majesty." His gaze for the moment settles upon Roslin.

Tyrel nods his head to those assembled and gives another chaste kiss to Ciarrah's cheek before moving to leave.

"Very good," Roslin says, nodding to Ciarrah. "Then luncheon, tomorrow, if you are feeling well?" The girl proposes with a hopeful smile. She only has time to hear a response before Tyrel is leaving. "Forgive me, but there is something I must dicsuss with my brother before the night is out. Do forgive me, all - and particularly you, Your Grace. I have intruded upon your offices and now I leave them again in the rudest fashion imaginable. I shall do my very best to make amends, sir."

Tyrel pauses, "It is urgent then, Roslin?" He turns to look at her, "Is it something that requires privacy?"

Ronan smiles, "No offense taken whatsoever, Princess Roslin. Do as you must and I shall bid you a good evening." He stands once more and sets his empty wine cup down before he gives her, and any others who are departing, a slight bow. "It is my pleasure that you have come at all unto these offices, I assure you." To her, or to them all. The Duke remains standing until he sees who departs and who stays.

When Tyrel moves to leave, Ciarrah detains him with a hand on his arm once more. "May I go with you?" Though she does not leave Roslin just standing there, she turns back to the Princess and smiles warmly once more. "I would like that very much, Your Highness. Tyrel often speaks of you and he wants me to spend time with you." Though just then she realizes Roslin was speaking to Tyrel as well. "Be well, Princess Roslin, I will see you tomorrow." Seeing the reaction from the squire, she smiles in return, but motions towards her handmaid who had been making eyes at the squire herself. "Serah," she orders, to get the maids attention. "If you all would excuse me, I should get back for today. It was a pleasure seeing you all. Your Grace?" She looks back at Ronan, "I will have that bottle sent down to you this evening." And with that, she turns to leave instead, while the others square away who is going where.

"I'll walk with you, it will be brief," Roslin says to her brother, nodding to await him at the door.

Tyrel keeps his place when Ciarrah touches his arm, "Ciarrah? I was planning to travel but if you require my company I can see to it tomorrow." He offers her his arm for support, "Roslin, I will speak to you later this evening."

Ronan inclines his head slightly to Ciarrah, "My thanks, your highness. I'll have Kierne bring up a bottle of unopened Sutherland red." Kierne himself was … well, he's a noble but still, he's young and male and was checking out Ciarrah's handmaiden all the same. For all he knows she's a Lady in Waiting.

A lot of shuffling and chatter as the royals all make their way toward the door. Roane was given a task, however, and seems content to wait quietly while the crowd gives their goodbyes and navigates out of the small office. Well, it's not so small when it doesn't have a half dozen people crowding into it. He offers quiet farewells to the others as they leave, and slips a bit deeper into the room when those spots are vacated.

Tyrel makes his way to the door with Ciarrah leaving Roane to make arrangements for a bit of sport.

Tyrel leaves, heading towards the Sutherland Suite [SS].

"You are more than welcome, Your Grace. Thank you for the conversation and I hope our paths cross again." As for Serah, she looks once more towards the squire before following discretely at her ladies summons. "Please, Tyrel, you need not change your plans only for me." Speaking to him as they make their way out.

Ciarrah leaves, heading towards the Sutherland Suite [SS].

Once the room is clearing indeed, Ronan retakes his seat for the … half dozenth time. He refrains from letting out the sigh he would otherwise give if he were alone and looks to the youth, "This is one of my squires, Lord Kierne Kincaid, nephew to Duke Aidan Kincaid. Sir Roane, would you care for a glass of Sutherland red?" Yes, that's Kiern's cue to make certain the other knight has a cup if Roane so wishes.

Now that things are quieting down, Ronan lifts first one, then the other of his boots to put them up on the corner of his desk and crosses his ankles as he leans well back in his chair to get comfortable. He is mindful not to scrape wood nor leather with his spur rawls, "I believe I recall your name in association with Westgate, do I not?" A seat is indicated, should Roane care for it. "I myself was knighted shortly before that event. My father freshly killed, Sutherland forces scattered or decimated, I gathered whom I could and rode for Westgate myself. That was a hard fight."

"I was charged by the prince to see that Westgate wouldn't fall until such a time as more troops could arrive to support and route the attacking armies." Roane replies simply. He shifts his attention toward Kiern for a moment and nods his head. "Just a half glass. I've had some of your reds before which I quite enjoyed, though I don't drink wine all that often." The Leask knight seems to relax a little with the royals gone from the room and the topic shifting to something that he's more comfortable with. "I did what any man would have done. Tried to keep as many in that castle alive until help could arrive. I was lucky that our enemy perhaps underestimated our determination and took advantage of that lapse. Having the numbers on your side means little if you don't deploy them well."

"Indeed. By the time I arrived with what remained of my father's men, you'd been holding out for some while already. It's wasn't my sword arm that won me position as Rioga after Westgate so much as it was for balls to bring everyone I could. Though I'd barely gotten spurs upon my heels."

Kierne pours the half glass for Roane and as all is more relaxed, he also pours himself a half glass. Which he will sip with reserve. Ronan for the moment does not becken for his own goblet to be refilled, "I've been busy with posts upon Mobrin's northern borders … until the murder of my kin drew me home again." A pause. "What sort of man is our Crown Prince, if you don't mind my asking?"

"It's events like those at Westgate that bring out the best in men … or they often end up dead. Without the forces arriving when they did, we would have soon fallen. Food was short, men were dying. Desperate measures were being taken to win each hour. You have my gratitude and that of the other soldiers on those walls for dragging together what you did and making your way to fight in a less than ideal situation." Roane wraps his hand around the goblet and settles himself down into a chair. He swirls the drink and then takes a sip, hardly enough to wet his lips. "It's good."

"What kind of man?" Roane cracks a rare smile at that question. "I'm not sure I'm an impartial observer. In many ways, Prince Tyrel has made me what I am today. I think quite highly of him. He has taken on much and had reasonable success. He's a man who is willing to listen to others - and a ruler who can take wise council is much more dangerous than one who thinks he's smarter than everyone else."

"Agreed, so long as he knows the difference between wise council and foolish, and is decisive to act." Ronan studies Roane from where he sits behind the desk. "As I remember it was not long Sutherland had to stand alone to aid you. Then others arrived to swell our ranks and to win the day. A very fine day, that. It shaped us both." Ronan would drink to that but he finds his goblet empty. Kierne sees the Duke pick up his cup and steps over quickly to fill it.

"Thank you." He says to the compliment on the red wine. The Crawford hears Roane out and after a light taste of his own cup he faintly nods, "We will have need of a strong Prince in the coming years."

"I would say the one we have fits that. You'll need to judge for yourself, of course, I fully admit that I'm often too close to the trees to properly see the forest. He takes all opinions seriously, but acts firmly when the decision has to be made. Considering his age, the prince shoulders the burden well." Not that Roane is much older than his prince, but he certainly feels it at times. He sips again from his cup.

"And it sounds as though he'd like to test your mettle on the training grounds before long. Not really much to be arranged, just a mutually agreeable time. Though, if you're interested in a warm-up bout before the main event, I'm always looking for new sparring partners." Everyone likes putting the champion in the mud.

The Sutherland Duke smiles, "Biased or not, I hope you are right. He claims to have known my brother well but … my brother was no military man." And not even a knight as far as Ronan knows, not that he was at home much to keep tabs on Cedric.

"I should be in Darfield for a little while. I am amenable. If we can but get word of when the King is due to return, we could arrange sparring matches for his entertainment, a feast to celebrate his return as well as the birth of his latest child. Should the Crown Prince be agreeable?" Ronan adds low, "If he would prefer something less formal sooner, either is acceptable."

"Perhaps both. Something on the side and something more formal. But, I can't make promises for his desires. I had the impression he wished something less formal whenever it was convenient - but he may also be amenable to a more elaborate affair. It's true that we have some thing worth celebrating and we should enjoy those before darker times." Roane tips his wine glass and takes a healthy swallow to finish the remaining red. He pushes his seat back and climbs to his feet, giving a bow. "I shouldn't keep you all evening. And I have matters to see to before I take to my bed. Thank you for the wine and it was good to properly meet you."

The Rioga Duke moves to stand as well, careful with his spurs - so easy to foul things when worn indoors. "Of course. Let me know what his Young Majesty prefers." Ronan doesn't finish his wine off, in no hurry to savour it once his visitors are departed. He sets it down upon his desk, "Pleased to finally meet you properly, Sir Roane. I look forward to arms practice with you, as well."

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