Thedor 17, 229: Walk With Me

Tyrel and Draventa speak about Logen, when Ronan joins the conversation turns to the upcoming war season.

Walk With Me
Summary: Tyrel and Draventa speak about Logen, when Ronan joins the conversation turns to the upcoming war season.
OOC Date: 01/17/2014
Related: None
Tyrel Draventa Ronan 
Darfield Castle
See below
Thedor 17, 229

Tyrel is standing in the foyer, wearing his armor and armed. From the noise coming from the courtyard horses are being readied. His guards stand near to the walls leaving the prince alone in a crowd in the middle of the foyer.

Draventa is just walking, as she's known to do. The doctors had told her from an earlier age it was something she had to do, keep moving. Even though the pain is gone, the scars gone, she still does, habit or she's scared they may come back, who knows? She's with her handmaid and three guards. With the excitement of the past few days, Drav was homing to walk outside some, fresh air to clear her head. Her cloak is lined with fur and she'll slow when she sees the prince. A deep breath and she'll bow when close enough, "Your majesty…" She sounds sympathetic, quiet.

Tyrel turns to look back to Draventa, he looks past her, his eyes ticking across the guards that accompany her before looking back to Draventa. "Your Highness." He nods slightly then looks towards the knights standing nearby and gestures one over. "See that any lady who attempts to leave the castle is accompanied by no less than four guards, if they are lacking provide them. That is four guards per noblewoman." He gestures for the guard to be off then turns his attention back to Draventa, "Pardon, Princess Draventa, you recalled something to my mind. How is your day progressing?"

Draventa blinks, glancing at her three guards. If they take offense, they don't show it. Drav won't say anything, what can she say? She's not important enough to need all this, but arguing won't help. "It is well. I was only wishing to walk the courtyard, for a bit of fresh air. The hallways can be stifling when one has something to consider." She'll tilt her head, studying the prince, "And you, your majesty? How are you fairing?"

Tyrel nods, "Of course, Draventa, I did not mean to imply you could not go to the courtyard or the gardens with your guards as they are, only that should you wish to visit the city an appropriate number would accompany you. When we receive guests they do not always bring such a number of men at arms to supply all the women as they mingle and travel." He looks towards the doorway to the courtyard then back to Draventa, "I have energy that cannot be spent, and exhaustion that cannot be rested, Draventa."

Draventa tries to not look relieved that she'll only have the three guards for now. Being followed everywhere is nerve wracking. "I believe we have enough. The Grand Duke tends to be protective of us." She'll smile softly, "I can't imagine. If there is anything I can do?" She doubts it, but she would if she could.

Tyrel considers for a few moments, "Take such care as you are able that, should the marriage be made, my brother never need experience the same. He has lost a wife already to the gods' will, to lose one to the will of another man…I should have no wish to ever be able to compare the two, I do not wish him to have such opportunity either."

Well….Drav's guessing that cat's out of the bag then. Her pale eyes lower and she'll nod, "Of course, Prince Tyrel." The way Logen acted yesterday though, she doubts he would be too affected. "May I ask of him to you? Your brother?" When she look up, there's a moment of uncertain, fear. But she quickly blinks that away, smoothing her face to that of a proper princess.

Tyrel looks at Draventa, "Ask of him? You may ask anything you wish, Draventa, you may not get a response but I'll not still your curiousity. Have you many questions or just a few, I had intended to ride but it was not urgent."

Draventa inhales, trying to choose her words carefully, "I unfortunately have only heard rumors. And the Queen's view is that of a mother. I can not fault her for that, but…I just wish to know of the man that may be paired with me. I met him yesterday, but he did not even let me know who he was till I demanded his name, and after that he left immediately." She's still trying to smooth her face, but there's concern in her eyes that she can't mask.

Tyrel says, "Ah, I have never totally understand his reasoning but my brother has a great curiousity in the opinions others form of him before knowing he is a Kilgour. I have some suspicion he has suffered false flatterers in the past that have led him astray. It is quite possible he wished you to form an opinion of him based on the man he is rather than the questions you've asked and the answers you've heard of him." He gestures towards the guards and sends one out to make the grooms aware he is delayed, "His departure may have had many reasons, I leave often without explanation beyond that I am leaving. It may have been to give you time to compare what you witnessed to what you knew, or it may have been for other reasons, what concerns you about it?"

Draventa blinks, maybe she's been protected from things like that, but it just doesn't seem right. A soft nod, "Perhaps so." Although the opinion she has now isn't the best. Another nod, "I did not mean to imply he left because of the question. I'm sorry to have given that impression." She did, but no need to get anyone upset. "I…It is mostly just that I know so little. I'm sorry, I did not mean to put off your riding, or ask you something that was inappropriate." Drav's hand maid frowns, Drav is sounding unsure, which is unlike the Princess. Quiet, reserved, but usually never unsure. The princess glances past Tyrel towards the outside, debating if the walk is worth this, or she should just retire to her room to wallow. At least in her room she can demand to be alone. "It looks a fine day to go riding."

Tyrel says, "The ride was to take my mind off the events of the last few days, Draventa, your company does the same and is equally if not more pleasant. You do not seem lacking in education, what matter do you feel you know so little about?" He looks to the maid when she frowns, then back to Draventa, "Come, walk with me. I understand the paths near the garden are cleared and pleasant this morning."

Draventa wonders a moment if she could pull of acting faint, but she's never been good with acting either. She'll smile softly, "Oh course, your majesty." She'll follow the princes lead and walk with him, allowing him to steer her in whichever direction he chooses. Alice follows, along with Drav's three guards. "I have been tutored in all appropriate subjects." Almost a reassurance that she has. "I don't' wish to say anything offensive. But the rumors have not been kind to your brother's reputation." How can one say 'he knocked up a girl, was forced into marriage, and is now a drunk' politely? Drav's steps are petite, genitive, like she's not used to walking on her own as much.

Tyrel looks over to Draventa, "I prefer a rude truth to a polite lie, Princess Draventa. You wish very much to say something offesive. You do not wish to offend me by saying, of course, but the desire to say the offensive so you can sate your curiousity is written on your face in bold script." He adjusts his stride to match that which Draventa sets and after a moment offers her his arm. "Should you prefer me to just voice every slur, insult and unkind thing I've heard about my brother until I strike the ones that concern you or would you do me the favor of just asking that which troubles you so I might address them?"

Herb Garden Darfield Castle
It is day 17 of the month of Thedor, 229 2E - 11:47 AM

The aroma of multiple herbs infuses through the entire garden. It's not a large area, but it is full of herbs for both cooking and healing uses. The little square is big enough to have a bench in the middle, as well as several paths to get to each of the small areas where plants grow. Half has been set up to get the sunshine, while the other half has a canopy overhead, providing for those plants that prefer shade. Thyme, marjoram, chives, oregano, garlic, lavender, feverfew, coriander, yellowflower (saint john's wort) and sage are just some of the spices and herbs that have been planted and are well cared for here.

Draventa straightens some and after a moment she'll take the offered arm. Her face stills at his words, although there's a tightening of her jaw, "Fine, Prince Tyrel. I will be direct. Is your brother a drunk? Will I be wed to someone who is only mentally there with me half the time? Is he prone to go off and become charmed by other woman? I'm not….skilled in the ways he's surely used to." Her cheeks to tint pink at her own words, and she'll glance over to the herb gardens. "I am certain the only reason he engaged me in conversation was because of the sketch of the Temple I was working on."

Tyrel nods, "Your directness is appreciated, Princess Draventa." He continues walking with her stopping to scent some of the more fragrent herbs as they walk the small boxy paths that the herb garden provides. "My brother is not a drunk, though he does look to drink for comfort when other is denied him. If he has you to look to I do not think he would seek it often." He pauses stooping to pick a leaf from mint and places it into his mouth before offering a leaf to Draventa and continuing, "You will rarely have the full attention of his mind, or else he will be of little use to me, he is a warrior and should be a leader of my troops, if it was otherwise he would be less of a prince and less of a man. As for his taste in women and his interest in their charms." He looks over Draventa for a few moments, "You are not unbecoming, he was faithful to his wife, to my knowledge, I see no reason he would not be faithful to you…and you are a lady, you are not meant to be versed in those ways on your wedding night, after it, if you wish, I imagine you will find other married ladies who will be willing to give you such education. Ciarrah seemed to have no difficulty in the matter once the wedding night passed."

Draventa's cheeks stay pink, and her eyes lowered. She'll just nod to the crown prince, this conversation is uncomfortable enough, she'll not add anything else. The mint leaf is taken, perhaps just to give her something else to focus on. Her voice is soft and the topic is clearly uncomfortable for her, "I'm sorry for bringing such worries to you. I shouldn't have." Pale eyes stay dropped, she shouldn't have asked any of these questions at all. "I'm sure everything will work out as it should."

Tyrel looks over at Draventa, "It may be, Draventa, that you will be my sister someday. If these are the worst worries you bring to me then you will quickly replace Roslin as my favorite." He continues walking along retracing the paths as they circle around again. "Though if it provides any comfort I answered many of the same questions not two weeks ago regarding Ronan. She wondered as to his loyalty to the crown and his worth, whether she was being married down as punishment, whether he would like her." He considers for a few moments, "Some trepidation regarding the wedding night as well, but I imagine all noblewomen have such questions and concerns." He chuckles, "No details, of course, but from what I have gathered every noblewoman takes her husband to bed the first time convinced she will dissappoint, and yet the noble and royal lines continue and I've not met the lord yet who doesn't boast of that evening…I must therefor assume it is something you are born knowing that you do not realize till that evening."

oh…this is really not helping. Drav swallows gently, trying to find something else for her eyes to land on. Anything. "Perhaps I should speak to Princess Roslin." She means for comfort, she has no idea of the strife between her and Logen. Trying to be positive, "Duke Ronan seems a good man." Well, besides his impatience! She'll frown, her delicate eyebrows coming to peter a moment. They boast?!? That's awful! Trying to not start another uncomfortable line of conversation, Drav will hold out her free hand to brush at the tops of some of the herbs as she passes. "I have heard in spring the gardens all burst into life with color."

Tyrel looks over at Draventa for a few moments, "I do recommend it, Roslin is fairly sensible. She'll be a bit jealous of you, she tends to flush crimson when I bait her, you only color slightly in a rather fetching manner. If you should wish an advantage over her do bring her a gift of some facial powder and mention to her you noticed she was running short." He looks then to the gardens, "The gardens never lack for color, Draventa, even now, outside…" he gestures past the bounds of the herb garden walls which fend off the chill and frost of the true garden outside. "…there is the white of the snow, the browns and yellows of the plants, the dark of the earth, the blue of the sky upon it." He smiles chuckles, "I shall repay my brother for a challenge once set before me and inform you that a subtle coloring, such as you have, is no less beautiful than an obvious one. It only takes a man of keener eye to appreciate it."

This is not the color she meant! Are all Kilgours like this?!? A deep breath, and she's frowning again, looking up at Tyrel, "I have no reason to wish any advantage over a woman who may be my sister. That would be foolish to even try. Or want." She already has a sister-half sister- that she has to struggle with! Her eyes dart back, flashes of a brighter blue a moment seem to shine through in them, "Some say white is the absence of all color. That the dark is not black at all, but just colors all combined together. That once we are able to see that, there is no darkness. Only different hues." Her hand again brushes against the herbs, "We are only in the dark if we chose to not see." Her head tilts upwards to study him a moment, unsure who to take the compliment so she'll duck her head and murmur a soft "Thank you."

Tyrel smiles, "I suggest, Draventa, that you do not take that to heart. Roslin is a competitive woman as are all the women of my family, you will wish to rise to what challenges they issue and take what advantages you may." He looks over towards her as waxes philosophical, "I've heard the same said in reverse as well, that black is the absence and white the sum, I am of a third opinion." He pauses as the walk to stoop and pick another leaf, this one hot and biting, he offers one to Draventa as well. "Of those opinions, and others, which do you favor?"

Draventa shakes her head, happy to talk the concepts of color and philosophies behind them. Much more than any of the other topics, "I like to believe what I said. Then there is always hope. In light, we feel safe. There is no need to worry. But in darkness, that is when Inouv creeps in. And to know there are colors, hidden, but still there…I believe that." She'll take the leaf, although makes a small face at the taste, not having looked to see which herb he was handing her. "I believe there is hope, even in the darkest corners. Even in the night sky, there is so much color."

Tyrel brings his free hand to his face, tapping his chin for a few moments, then nods, "A legitimate philosophy, one that provides hope and strength in what some would feel to be darkness." He glances towards her as she makes a face and chuckles, "Turn the leaf over with your tongue, place the stem of it lengthwise between your teeth then bite down so the stem breaks along the length all at once." If she does as instructed the bitter heat of the leaf fade and instead her mouth with cool and chill followed by numbness and tingling that sends shivers down the spine, a medicinal herb, one used often for pain or to grant awareness for a short time. "I am more of the opinion that there is no definitive nature in either darkness or light, only an observation of that which is different from that which you are used to. In absolute, I believe they are equal."

Draventa shrugs, maybe not the most lady like, but she's trying to deal with her mouth on fire, "I am also looking at it as a painter. The canvas can be left blank, adding noting to parts to keep white, while many colors must be mixed to achieve a dark." The stem is flipped as soon as he tells her to. She'll wrinkle her nose at the sensation, not expecting it. She does shiver, cold and Drav doesn't mix well. "I can agree that you can not have on without the other."

Tyrel is walking the small herb garden with Draventa. The sheltered garden is heated by the fires of the kitchen and sheltered by walls and a half-roof. The herbs are fragrant though only the hardy ones sprout at this time of year. Tyrel is dressed in his armor, his arm extended for Draventa as the walk the small box paths talking. Their guards are making merry in the kitchen enjoying the warmth and opportunity to select treats. The kitchen maids are doing everything in their power to charm those few common blooded knights amongst them so treats are being offered freely. Draventa's maid is on hand of course, so those treats are mostly of a baked goods nature.

Tyrel is speaking at the moment saying, "I've tried my hand at painting, from time to time, but the product of the effort is never so satisfying as that which I create in other mediums. Have you any of your works with you, or any nearing completion, I should be interested to see that which you create."

Draventa is dressed for a walk outside, a heavy cloak lined with fur. "It is not the product that should get you to paint. It is the process." She'll consider a few of the smaller pieces she's started on here, but then offers, "I gave Princess Laela a gift of one. Perhaps when you visit the Queen next she may show you?" She'd rather not show Tyrel the start of the Temple piece, with as angry as he got at the temple's servants.

Ronan has come out of the castle and decided a walk in the herb garden would do him some good, a breath of fresh air. The Duke has been out riding, then came back to see if anyone was about with whom he said he would spar. Not seeing them, the smell of the kitchens perhaps lures the Sutherlander. He comes now alone, without squire or man servant. The Rioga walks quietly with his hands clasped loosely behind his back and barely into the space, sees that others are out here as well.

He doesn't care to intrude. Ronan plucks off a tiny bit of rosemary, hardy in the cold to the point it often blooms this time of the year, then rubs it between his hands and smells of it. A pleasant reminder that spring won't stay away forever.

The herb garden is not so big that a man of Ronan's size can go unnoticed, the castle barely suffices for that, Tyrel looks over to him and smiles, "Brother to be." He greets with a laugh, "I was just speaking of you indirectly, do the gossips run so fast these days or were you tempted to the garden by the rumor of the beauty to be found walking here on my arm?" He looks then to Draventa, "I will inquire of it when I visit next, though I should like to see other samples of your work as well. Gifts, I've found, often carry the nature of the recipient, rather than the artist."

Draventa looks slightly bewildered, not used to anyone speaking to her in a such a manner. Her cheeks stay slightly pink and she'll smile up at Ronan, "Duke Ronan, I hope all is well?" To answer the crown prince on the matter of her paintings, "I will see if any I have been working on are ready to be viewed." She'll have to whip up something quickly, she's not show him the Temple piece! She has a few flowers started.

The Duke lays fist over his heart and bows his head, "Young Majesty." Ronan smiles a little at being called 'brother to be'. "Speaking of me?" The Rioga lightly bows to Draventa, "Your Highness," he looks her over, how she's walking, "You … seem better? I thought you could not walk well? Aye, am well enough though I tire of Darfield's long winter."

He is for the most part in good spirits. He walks over a bit closer, the bit of rosemary still in his large hands, "As to my reason for coming, I happen to be fond of gardens. Not that I get to enjoy them much. I'm to spar with Sir Shepard so I thought to wait and see if he's around."

Tyrel smiles, "Mostly good things, Ronan." He offers a hand clasp when the space allows and they near eachother, taking some care not to stray from the narrow paths. "I will expect, when we come to visith Sutherland, to see some solution for your enjoyment of gardens and our need to maintain our martial skills. Perhaps you will have my sister plant gardens surrounding the training fields and put flowerboxes along either sides of the lists."

Draventa pauses, never sure how to address what happened to her, "You are correct. I had difficulties, but…I was at Temple when Sess appeared. He saw fit to bless me and take that struggle from me." Eyes closing a moment, almost in a silent prayer. She'll smile up at him then, always feeling a bit of commradery in the dislike of the cold, "I have been assured that the spring will be worth the winter."

Ronan will gladly share the hand clasp with Tyrel, "She may if it pleases her, but Princess Roslin will find that Trueborn castle already has a huge bailey garden, landscaped for countless generations by Duchesses before her. I hope it will please her." Nevermind that burned out keep, he's working on that. "Surely you have been to Trueborn ere she was burned." Mostly good things? But not all? The Rioga might be amused but he says nothing on it.

Draventa regains his attention. The Duke looks her over, so much more … vibrant now, "I see. Then you truely are blessed, Your Highness. I am glad for you." A slow breath, "The spring means war and battle for some of us. May it be peaceful here, or where ever you are come spring."

Tyrel considers for a time, "You will find my sister most pleased by those things which some would consider practical, Ronan. While she certainly smiles for a bauble and takes pleasure in blooms I think you will see her delighted when construction of the roads begin. She thinks of the kingdom before she thinks of herself and those things that will bring the both of you prosperity will be the quickest …" he pauses as he finds himself looped in his own speech, "… road to her heart. That was terrible." He shakes his head, "Thankfully, I am no bard to make my living by my tongue. I have been to the keep, and enjoyed it, I expect I will again someday but my path lies northward for some time to come. Spring arrives shortly, as you've said, and there are lords who need to be spoken with."

"Thank you, Duke Ronan." Drav's smile dissipates and she'll nod, "I can only hope peace will come quickly, for everyone." She'll drop her eye, letting the two talk of building road and such, although her lips do quirk into a soft smile, she is listening and Tyrel's word twist is amusing.

Tyrel's attempt makes Ronan laugh. He hasn't had cause to laugh much these past 6 months but he does so now, briefly, "Aye, am well aware that her interests lie a good deal where my own do. I find her all the less boring for it, to be honest. A rare pleasure to be able to speak with her about interests of the Kingdom, than discourse upon flowers." Even if he likes a stroll through a garden doesn't mean he wants to talk about gardens every day, dear Gods. A nod to Tyrel, "Mine also lays to the north. All the more reason I am eager to be wed ere time has fled. I need to speak with you, the Queen, or your father to set the date. Every day that goes by is closer to spring."

A look past his Prince to Draventa, "Have you been painting, Your Highness? My mother used to paint. I remember her setting aside a small room for her studio when I was a boy. Perhaps you also will have a wedding to look forward to, soon?" A glance between them.

Tyrel chuckles, "Conversations do run in circles, don't they? Draventa is being considered as a wife for my brother, Logen, and he for she. In regards to your marriage, it will happen as quickly as is decent, Ronan. The betrothal cannot be a month past and while the marching is begun it will be some months before we are engaged in ernest. There has been word that some lords of Laniveer will rally to the kilgour banner and swear fealty to the true king, I intend to give them every opportunity for every life lost in this is the life of one of my father's subjects."

Draventa smiles softly as Ronan speaks of his mother, "I have. As soon as it is warm enough, I will start painting outside. Sunlight is the best to paint under." It takes her a moment to realize what he's asking and she'll nod, again that pink coming to her cheeks. Luckily Tyrel speaks up, so she does not have to. It's not settled yet, she's not sure who much she should say.

Ronan thins his mouth at what Tyrel says, "You were married yourself in haste, I am told. I need time to sire an heir, if I can, as you well know. Sutherland men will be loath to fight if I do not go to the front. While I have capable knights and lords to lead them under your orders, it is Sutherland tradition that the Duke is himself a knight and fighting man, to lead his own people. As my father before my brother and myself did, and my countless forefathers before him, have always done, even to having put your ancester onto the throne - Sutherland Barons even in those days did not stay at home to sire babies, Young Majesty. I will have little time to spend with my bride. I will not wait long with the survival of my House at stake. Months have already been wasted and there are no more months left to spare."

A nod for Draventa, "Moniwid would be good to bind to us as allies, your brother and his ships. I hope it will be so, Your Highness."

Tyrel nods, "I understand the need for heirs, Ronan, however the war season will be well over before we know whether you have a son or daughter this year, while you will join me in command you will keep yourself from battle unless it is needful, you are no longer a second son. Your men will have you to lead them, but if I see you acting with foolish bravado then I will send you home to twiddle your fingers while waiting to see if your baby making has sired an heir or not." He delivers this without particular inflection, as simple statement. "If I can keep myself from ordering the march to my wife begun, you can keep yourself at a reasonable distance to command."

The Duke gives Tyrel a 'you have got to be kidding' kind of look, "We shall see, my Prince. I am Rioga, sworn to the King, and you are not King yet. I have spent my entire life training to fight. It is the /only/ thing I do know how to do well. If you think I will not go and fight with the men of Sutherland, then you do not know Sutherland or me, at all."

There is Dravanta's hand maiden, arrived to lure her away to join other members of her family for supper. Ronan offers her a slight bow before he looks back to the Crown Prince, "I have no desire to butt heads with your family at every turn, and I grow very tired of it. There are limits to where your authority extends, my Prince. I suggest you choose your fights carefully."

Tyrel nods to Draventa as she leaves then looks to Ronan, "You are quite correct, Ronan, I am not the king…people seem fond of reminding me of that, I am however the Marshall and the Crown Prince, and your life has changed. Fighting is no longer enough for you to do well, you must manage Sutherland and my sister is being given to you to aid you in that. I suggest you consider whether I am fighting with you or looking to your best interests." He looks out over garden, "You can no longer die a hero, if you fall, you fall a failure no matter how great the victory or important the battle may seem." He considers for a few moments, "Save, perhaps, in the defense of my father's life." He looks down at his sword's hilt for a few moments then back to the herbs. "I do not forbid you from the front, or from fighting when there is need, but I caution you that you will not find glory where you would of before the death of your brother and father. Gambits that a year ago would have seen you named heroic will now name you careless."

Ronan is a bold man, accustomed to speaking his mind, blunt and honest. Braced, he stands fast and listens, wary of his Prince's anger as he's had plenty of the Royal Family's anger already. "Fair enough, and no, I have no intention of being foolishly reckless. So long as you know I will not hide behind my men either. I know my duties, Young Majesty. To Sutherland as well as to my King. If only people will get out of my way and let me do them."

A long, slow breath he draws. Ronan runs a hand over his face, "At every turn, your family seems to delight in pushing me this way or that, making me wait months on your pleasure. You will forgive me if it has long since begun to chafe, when the stallion is never given his head to run. It makes him fight the bit and rider all the more when instead, we could work together to fullfill each other's needs." Does Tyrel even have any idea what the Rioga is trying to say?

Tyrel listens for a few moment then says, "I'm surrounded by masters of analogy." He comments then follows with, "Had we time, Ronan, we would be gentler in breaking you to saddle. Though I'm certain any maids listening to us are now blushing, laughing or both. Your brother and I were friends for some time, and we had time to accustom him to spurs, reins, whips when needed, and having his head." He reaches up with his hand tapping his chin thoughtfully, "I think I will have to tell my sons, when they are older, and yours about this conversation someday when you are telling them of the times you bested me in combat." He then continues, "We do not have that luxury, so you have been broken quite a bit more quickly than we should wish so that you might be serviceable to the tasks required of you." He pauses, the corner of his mouth ticking upward in a smile, "We've broken a warhorse so that it might be ridden by a princess, Ronan, and still serve as a warhorse. That is not an easy task even for my family." He looks over at Ronan, "Before you take umbrage at this, I would remind you that it was your analogy, and that I've been broken in the same way, not all that long ago."

Ronan skims a hand up the back of his neck and over his dark hair, "Here I thought I was trained already for war. Either way, you are right, that I am feeling … broken and tired, too long confined. It wears down the spirit. Here I'm foolishly thinking I'd be doing the riding of Princesses." He lowers his hand, eyes the man who's to be his brother-in-law if this bloody marriage ever really does happen. Gods, the way shit has been going, it will probably snag on something else and wreck. "I'm tired of waiting, dangling at the end of Kilgour strings, Tyrel. I'm going back to Sutherland very soon. I can't tell you how much I have come to loath Darfield."

He lays his fist to his heart and then turns to depart.

Tyrel returns the salute his head dipping, "Bear it a little longer, Ronan, the strings are bothersome to grow accustomed to but once the traces are in place and the horses run together we can pull a larger wagon than any one of us could alone. Know also that while we may lay the strings once they are in place we run with you." He considers for a few moments as Ronan moves away then adds, "And stop thinking about riding my sister, you're not wed yet."

The Duke goes a bit further and stops to look back to Tyrel. "We shall see. If you are infering the future will continue anything like it has been these past months? You will find yourself running with fewer horses." He meets Tyrel's eyes a moment, then goes on about his business.

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