Nar 02, 228: War on fever

War on fever
Summary: The chancellor goes to Prince Tyrel to report on Princess Caillin's condition
OOC Date: 05/07Y2013 (OOC)
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None' — please, don't leave blank!)
Players:
Caedmon Tyrel Wenna 
Crown Prince's Office
A man's room. This spacious room is graced with a gorgeous view of the ocean. Three tall windows, topped with gorgeous stained glass look out over the harbour to east, and the ocean below. Dominating it is a truly massive, oaken desk, topped with assorted bits of small statuary and objects of art. The desk is ornately carved with an elegant vine pattern. Behind it is a rather grandiose throne of a chair, carved in a somewhat gothic style. What isn't wood is covered in black leather secured by silver studs. In front of the desk is a cluster of smaller black-leather chairs. The hardwood floor is covered in a thick purple rug with silver trim. A few silver candelabras spaced about the room in addition to a few wrought-iron wall sconces provide plenty of light. The walls are paneled two thirds of the way up the wall with a dark cherry wood. From there on up they are painted purple, and about a foot from the ceiling is silver stenciling. On one side of the room, a bookshelf lines the wall, from floor to ceiling. The shelf is filled with books from all across Daeren. A door leads to a private room for the Prince.
Nar 02, 228

Standing near the window having a glass of wine is the Prince, Tyrel Kigour. He holds the goblet in his hands, staring out the windows at the Sea of Mobrin. He watches the sun hover over the sea, preparing to disappear. He takes a drink of his wine and moves to set the goblet on the desk when the knock comes in from the door. He gives a light shout, "Come in!" Setting the goblet on the table, he moves casually to lift a piece of parchment from the desk, scanning it with his eyes. A perceptive sort might recognize this parchment as a letter from Aberdeen, according to the seal on the back of the sheet.

The guard outside opens the door after hearing the prince's shout, and Chancellor Caedmon leads the way into the opulent royal office. At his side is a woman in a long hunter green gown. The woman is leaning slightly against Caedmon for support until he takes a step forward and bows. "Your highness," he greets the prince. "I apologize profusely for this interruption, but the matter warrants your attention."

The woman in the hunter green gown is holding a cane and walking with it. The cane has a silver head and is inlayed with mother of pearl. Her brown hair has been braided and pinned up. Her moss green eyes rest on the prince. She is not a stunning woman but she not painful to the eye. When Cademon steps away from her she changes her stance. When the Chancellor says your highness, the woman manages to balance herself with her cane as she offers him a deep respectful curtsy. Very slowly and carefully she rises from it as she is unable to hold that stance for long.

Tyrel looks up from his parchment as he lets if fall weightlessly to the table. He glances from the Chancellor, to the Lady, a brow raised as he watches the curtsey. He inclines his head politely, looking back to Caedmon. "No, please… come in Lord Caedmon." He offers the man a smile, motioning toward the sideboard with his hand, "Would you care for a bevarage?" He asks casually, his command of the Daereni language near flawless.

"Under other circumstances, I would be honored, your highness," Caedmon answers with another smaller bow. "However, I am here on behalf of your sister." He pauses so that the words have time to register before he continues. "Her highness has confined herself to her chambers, and until yesterday did not allow anyone to visit or attend her. her, including her handmaiden." Again, he pauses before coming to the crux of the matter. "She allowed me to see her yesterday. She was severely troubled, highness, and fainted. I summoned the royal healer. He has been with her since then. He tells me that she suffers from a persistent fever that requires bloodletting." Here, he inclines his head to the woman clad in green, and introduces her. "This is Mistress Wenna, an apothecary whom I have brought from the village to assist the royal healer. I believe that you should be at the princess's side during this treatment."

Listening intently Wenna does not speak until she is spoken to directly. She offers the prince an elegant bow of her head that is almost regal when introductions are given.

Tyrel glances toward the lady, then back to Caedmon, "You will /not/ be doing any bloodletting…" his voice trails off. "That is… until I have had a chance to speak with Lady Solara Ruxton… and, my mother." He raises both brows, "Yes, my mother will be arriving from Lakeshire tomorrow, and she will make the final decision." He speaks firmly, before reaching once more for his wine. He takes a drink of the liquid, as he contemplates the situation. He doesn't seem overly shocked to her being sick, having been informed by Lord Colin, the Master of Spies.

Caedmon bows once more, and answers, "That is precisely why I came to you, your highness. You are her brother. The King and queen are her parents. You should be the ones to rule. Before I left her highness's chambers, I made that point to the healer. If you wish, I will go again to her chambers to reiterate that point, and urge him to report any change in the condition of her highness to you."

Still quiet as a mouse she politely nods her head. "Forgive me for speaking my prince. The healer is working on balancing her humors. There are other treatments that can be done to draw the fever out of her. Blood letting is common, but based off of the rumors I have heard I would say that your presence may be the best medicine for her. I also have not seen her as of yet and am basing my opinion off of hearsay." Her tone is very polite and her word sound educated. There is a fair of an accent to them that would place her from Greenfeilds. Her voice itself is soft warm alto and there is nothing but kindness in those moss green eyes of hers.

Tyrel nods toward Caedmon, "Of course." He begins to say something else, but he closes his mouth as the Lady speaks. He listens, quietly, before offering another polite incline of his head, "Thank you, my lady…?" There is perhaps a question in his tone about who she is. He glances back toward Caedmon, "Have you spoken to your Vice Chancellor yet? Lady Ruxton?" He motions with his hand, "She is also a healer, and one I know. I would like for her to go to Caillin's chambers with me. Will you send for her?"

Caedmon inclines his head. "She is waiting for the summons and should be there as soon as she receives word, your highness," he answers. Then he takes a slow breath before he nods to Wenna. Then he returns his attention to the prince and agrees, "While rumors often miss the mark, in this case, they are right about one thing, your highness. I myself visited the princess, and you were foremost on her mind. Your presence might help her more than any herb or knife can. You will want to wait for your mother to arrive, as is proper. We will await your summons as well."

Wenna has grown silent again and she is listening to the exchange between the two men. It is as if she has taken a step back into the shadows without having done so. Willing to make herself invisible.

Tyrel gives a slight nod of his head, "I think that would be best. Just give her whatever she will need to be comfortable until tomorrow morning, when the Queen will arrive. I know she would want to be here when we decide what shall be done." He takes another drink of his wine, turning back to the window as he looks out over the setting sun. "Send a page to the temple. Have the priests pray through the night."

"I will, your highness," Caedmon answers with a deep bow to the prince. "Again, the healer and guards outside her chamber have orders to notify you if her status changes. We will be ready to serve when you call." With that, he stps back toward the heavy doors and taps lightly on them signaling the guard outside that they will be leaving.

Balancing on her cane another curtsy is given to the prince this one is like the first deep and respectful. She then rises from it slowly and carefully. She then moves to back out of the room one the final dismissal has been given and once the guards open the door. Every one of her movements is courtly and precise.

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