39th of Alasair, 229 2E: Talk of Talks

Talk of Talks
Summary: Three nobles and a ranger talk peace, and a few other things.
OOC Date: 25/Sep/2014
Related: Nothing specific
Aldren Eoin Victoria Conall 
Salon - Darfield Castle
A haven of serenity amidst the rush of the castle, the salon is designed as a place for relaxation or socialization. A hearty fire burns in the massive, marble fireplace, throwing a russet glow across the room. The walls are divided top from bottom with pale wooden paneling above and lapis marble with silver veins shot through it below. Several armchairs, a couch, and a loveseat are set around a beautiful table for an intimate tete-a-tete, the furniture finely made of deep mahogany wood with blue and silver cushions. An azure rug covers the center of the room, but at the edges the dark wood of the floor can be seen. A side table holds tea, coffee, wine and several small hors d'oeuvres, and desserts.
39th of Alasair, 229 2E

Within the quiet salon sits the Count. Just mellowing out from duties with a cup of wine. Seated in front of the fire he looks rather agitated though, on the edge of his seat, his brown boots tapping endlessly as he shakes his knee in seeming intent and nervous thought. The hunter green cloak he usually wears amongst such colder weather outside is slung over his chair and the place is empty besides some barely visible ranger in the back. Suddenly standing he nears the side table with the seserts. "Hmmm." He muses out loud with disgust as he tries to decide. Then he does, no food, more wine. Topping off his cup it would seem will do for lunch.

Also on the lookout for a chance to take a break from his duties is Eoin. Working out who's going to Crosswynds by ship and how to escort them is provinga headache, and one that right now he's taking a break from. Striding into the salon he barely notes the ranger, but does pause momentarilly once Aldren is spotted. The count gets a nod, and a "Cousin," in greeting, before he makes his way to the table as well.

Eoin gets eyes. No wordss, no nods. Aldren continues pouring and then retakes his seat. After a long drink he says in a resentful and mocking tone over his shoulder, "No doubt ready for this trip to Lakeshire I presume. I should hope the feasts are not lacking….What with the 'dire' situation on stores forr e winter there. But I am sure the LAniveeri will assist." In a quiet voice he mumbles…….know……..shall not…"

Eoin had been hoping that civility might heppen, but apparently no. Still, he doesn't plan on risingto the bait, not here in the castle. "Not yet ready Cousin no, but getting there, slowly. The delay being in part due to a need to plan what stores and provisions needs be transported." Then, with just a hint of bite, "do not trouble yourself though, I doubt you'll need to contribute, the King's cellars seem well enough stocked to handle the need." Given the mood already generated he's sorely tempted to just turn and leave, but damnit he isn't going to be driven out so he takes a few of the hor d'oeuvers and sits himself down near the table. He'll finish his damn wine at least first.

His words get a faint acknowledgment as he sips at his wine some more. He may have been at it early, and while his tone is still edgy perhaps a little less so. "I see. Well, I should hope so at least." Surely Darfield takes there good share from Greenshire as well. Then as if by way of small talk or perhaps just curiousity he says, "I should wonder what will happen to Crosswynds. Will they demand it. I've not heard any reports on their troops withdrawing from the area. There must be five thousand Mobrin and Laniveeri troops within ten miles of the castle. And always scuh a pivotal point in the past."

Victoria is that creepy ranger lurking by the fireplace, her body silhouetted against the fire that blazes within. Quietly she listens, face remaining impassive, not giving a hint to the thoughts occurring within the woman's mind. Approval, disapproval, nothing is hinted at for the conversation.

"I have no idea," Eoin states bluntly. "I imagine they'll demand it, as I imagine we'll demand things, but who will get what is ot something I am party to." A sip of his drink and a nibble, "troops won't move until there is pen to paper, and even then they'll still be patrols. The war may end before winter hits but there'll still be some beyond the garrison billetted up there through to spring, just in case."

Aldren nods. "Surely. Though I would put nothing past the Stewerts. Still,While the war may be ended soon I've the feeling it is only just beginning." He shakes his head before emptying his cup. It seems to settle him slightly….slightly. Not so much where he does not stand again to fill his own cup. He'd be chain smoking if he had cigarettes. "And still, those who harbor resentments. The good kings of this continent may choose peace but for every noble on board there may be two who secretly despise such things. The….emergence of things does not bode well." Yea, he's in a dark place.

Victoria pushes away from the fire slowly, plucking at a pouch on her belt and sliding to sit down on a chair, knees parted as she does so, leaning forwards with elbows on her knees. Right hand crosses her body to slide beneath her open coat, untugging a pipe and proceeding to slowly fill it.

"You can never please everyone," Eoin notes, somewhat flatly, "but I think a peace would hold if both crowns support it." That he has no idea on, the talks came somewhat out of the blue as far as he was concerned and he isn't sure just who started them. "The 'emergence' as you call it has been building for a while. Years. And yet who's to say whom it bodes well or ill for. If the Gods return, all of them that is, not just those the Light would have you follow, then it may be a bountiful time ahead. We can only speculate." And that's all he's doing there, speculating, "if we knew what the scrolls said then maybe we would know more, but teh Temple are keeping them close to their chest, so we do not."

Victoria will lean back once she's finished filling the pipe, pushing up once more, pouch closed as her right hand holds the pipe, walking to the fireplace to draw out a thin stick to light. It will settle into the pipe which she settles between her lips, puffing a few times as orange strikes up within the pipe bowl, Vic turning then to face the men, "I happen to know someone who could get into the temple undetected and read the scrolls."

From his seat by the table Eoin takes his glance off his cousin by the fire and instead turns to face the ranger. Leaning abck in his chair a little he considers what she just said as he takes another sip of the wine, then asks, business-like, "how long would it take them and what would they want in return?" The admiral it would appear, is interested.

Having been back to Darfield for a couple of days now Conall makes his way to the salon, a guard with him as they step inside. "Oh, apologies. We are not intruding I hope?" He asks, ready to leave if so. Seeing as the room is fille with Haraveans.

"They're very simple in their wants and needs." Victoria will begin though as Conall walks in she will simply move back to the chair she had sat in previous, conversation ended on her part, hips swinging around to sit back down with a plunk. Her pipe will get pulled on a few times, smoke escaping her lips in wispy furls, "No, of course not, Prince Aberdeen."

Eoin glances briefly towards the door as he hears footsteps enter the room, then rises to his feet as he recognises the prince. "Your Highness," he greets, "please, make yourself comfortable. We were just discussing the peace talks." Well, sort of, "what does Aberdeen make of them?" Victoria gets a nod, a silent confirmation that they'll finish that thought later, and then he's seating himself again and asking of Conall, "will this mean a ceasation of hostilities for you as well?"

Conall smiles and bows his head to them. "My lords, ranger." He greets them all before moving to find a seat. "Ah, well. It's hard to be completely certain about motives. I think we would do best in being careful, do as is needed for the time being. Work with the talks." He suggests, having been busy elsewhere, "Slightly, although the isles have some issues as well, though noting too bad I hope. How have the Haraveans taken to it all?"

Victoria will listen as she puffs away on her pipe, leaning back, thoughts elsewhere for the time being, her gaze shifting to the fire.

Eoin listens as Conall speaks, expression changing ever so slightly at the mention of Aberdeen having issues too. ot quite sure if the prince means with the Stewarts, or otherwise, he opts for the generic, but sincere, "nothing you can not overcome I trust? Although I suspect given the aid you have lent to us then the King would doubtless return that as he could should the need arise."

"Indeed, it should be something we can manage easily enough." Conall assures Eoin. "And I am sure we could get help from Mobrin, though as time stands I would not want to distract this nation, during peace talks."

Aldren finishes his pouring and takes a sip. When Victoria speaks he almost spits out his wine, but he is a pro, instead he justwallows and chokes on it. But in the end he only nods with knowing eyes to the rangeress when Conall enters. "Prince Connall." He says politely with an inclination of his head. "Please. Do join us." He retakes his seat and listens to the two nobles chatting for awhile before he says, "Much as everyone else." A grin to the Aberdeen. And no real answer on the Haraveans.

Victoria just puffs away. She's said her piece.

"Your consideration is appreciated," Eoin replies, "it will be intersting to see what comes out of Crosswynds." With Aldren back in the conversation and a list of things to do that only ever seems to grow, he then draisn his cup and stands once more. "If you'll forgive me Your Highness," he notes to Conall, then "cousin," to Aldren, "I fear I have been away from work too long, and there is much to be organised. Good day."

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