Around mid-day on the 30th, the main hall of Castle Amber is mostly empty. A few servants are preparing it for the morrow's festivities, and off in one corner, Alystrakos is eating a late breakfast (and surreptitiously eavesdropping on the servants' gossip).
The peacefulness of the scene is disrupted with Aibne's arrival, simply appearing in the middle of the room without fanfare. Alystrakos is on her feet in an instant, blade drawn and held at the ready; a quick hand signal sends her dog circling around to the other side of the intruder.
Aibne is dazed and confused, holding his head with one hand. He murmurs an unidentifiable tongue, blinking, as the sword at his hip buzzes slightly. Automatically, he draws it, still cradling his head and letting it pull him around to follow Alystrakos warily.
A few guards start to move to the ready; Alystrakos waves them off.
"Who are you, and how did you come to be here?" she demands.
"Aibne Grant," he replies in the same tongue, accented. He looks around, starting to recover, though noticeably weary. "I'm back in the main hall? Where - have you seen the wizard? He stole my pay."
"Which wizard?" Alys' eyes narrow slightly, as she starts to call up some sort of Power. (OOC aside: Aibne notices this due to having at least amber rank psyche; having amber rank warfare also lets him deduce that it's not intended as a hostile gesture.)
Aibne takes a step backwards on his left leg, holding up his left hand and manipulating the position of his fingers in a fluid, practiced motion. (Amber+ Psyche shows a trigger, Warfare also not hostile, but cautious).
"Know I not at all his name - a small man, hunched, and slightly mad. He met with my employer in this very hall, and showed him to his quarters, and thefted my purse, afore leading me on a merry chase. He brought me into a room of black, with a floor inlaid with gold that shone like the sun itself. I assumed it to be a workroom, for my master had one akin to it."
"That almost sounds like Dworkin. Did he smell of ink and paint?" Alystrakos asks.
"Ink? Paint? I know not these things," Aibne grumbles, watching Alys warily. "He smelt of secret things, hidden things, of wood-that-was-not."
"And who is this 'master' you speak of?"
"A Druid of means in my Owner's company." Aibne narrows his eyes a little, but relaxes his left paw, bringing it down slowly.
"Hm." says Alys, and continues to focus on bringing up her Power.
06.12.30 : Main Hall
Re: 6.12.30 : Main Hall
"Know you the tales of Rogbar the Mighty and his Company?" Aibne asks after a minute.
"I have encountered the name, but I do not know the tales. ...If I remember right, they work for Morek Silverbar, one of the nobles of Ht'gon An-rit?"
"In part, and other merchants of stature who wish for a suitable guard to stride the shadows, aye."
Alys finally finishes calling up the aforementioned Power. It seems to be something sensory, based on her reaction of looking over Aibne rather carefully. "Well." She twitches a bit of a smile, and blinks, the Power fading entirely. "I daresay he'll be somewhat displeased with today's events - you outrank him now." While she's talking, she sheathes her blade, and gestures for her dog to return to her side.
Aibne frowns, looking at you, slowly sheathing his blade of stone. "Wherefore say you this?" he asks slowly, his stance calming slightly. (The guards relax as well, now that it appears there won't be a fight.)
"The law of Amber is quite clear - those who have survived the Pattern outrank everyone save Dworkin himself. Which in turn means I should make a proper introduction of myself. I am Lady Alystrakos Obsidia Sybaris; you may call me Alys if you prefer." She walks forward and holds out a hand to shake.
Aibne stares at her in shock, but slowly grasps the middle of her forearm. "Then Rogbar has a high class of slave," he says, after finding his words again.
"Had. You're a noble, now, and no-one's slave. In fact..." She calls to one of the guards, "Estelle, see if there's been a room prepared for Aibne, please?"
"Yes, Milady!" Estelle salutes before she runs off.
Aibne is looking decidedly bemused. "Slave is not precisely the word. A contract, ah... Ind- inden-... Indenture? I believe that was the word." it sounds alien on his tongue.
"That sounds more reasonable; Dworkin does not like slavery." Alys' expression hints that she doesn't much like it either, though she doesn't comment on that. "I suppose if you wanted, you could buy that contract out instead of simply declaring it void."
Aibne raises an eyebrow. "such a thing would be easier if mysterious wizards were not absconding with the last three years of my earnings.
Alys shakes her head. "You really don't understand, do you? However much was in that purse isn't even relevant anymore. If you need funds, the castle's properties will provide them. You could declare the contract void, and pay nothing. You could declare that the contract should be bought out, and the bill sent to Amber, or Ht'gon, or wherever. You could draw a replacement purse from the treasury. Or ten times that amount, if you needed it."
Aibne blinks, growls, and starts to cross his arms as the guard comes running back down.
"Milady, milord," the guard says, huffing a little. "Lord Aibne does have a suite made for him."
Aibne snorts, and frowns. "This must be some trickery..."
Alys shrugs. "Trickery, certainly, but the trick seems to be on Morek or perhaps Rogbar. Or one could argue that it's a trick on all the nobility everywhere; I doubt many will be pleased to see you elevated to royalty. Or, I suppose, some might argue that it's me trying to play such a trick - but then, that's why I checked on whether a room had been prepared; I certainly didn't order that..."
"Shall we go see what Dworkin has arranged for your quarters here?"
Aibne grumbles, but nods, crossing his arms. "As well might we as not. Ayum ought need fear no blades in this place."
"I have encountered the name, but I do not know the tales. ...If I remember right, they work for Morek Silverbar, one of the nobles of Ht'gon An-rit?"
"In part, and other merchants of stature who wish for a suitable guard to stride the shadows, aye."
Alys finally finishes calling up the aforementioned Power. It seems to be something sensory, based on her reaction of looking over Aibne rather carefully. "Well." She twitches a bit of a smile, and blinks, the Power fading entirely. "I daresay he'll be somewhat displeased with today's events - you outrank him now." While she's talking, she sheathes her blade, and gestures for her dog to return to her side.
Aibne frowns, looking at you, slowly sheathing his blade of stone. "Wherefore say you this?" he asks slowly, his stance calming slightly. (The guards relax as well, now that it appears there won't be a fight.)
"The law of Amber is quite clear - those who have survived the Pattern outrank everyone save Dworkin himself. Which in turn means I should make a proper introduction of myself. I am Lady Alystrakos Obsidia Sybaris; you may call me Alys if you prefer." She walks forward and holds out a hand to shake.
Aibne stares at her in shock, but slowly grasps the middle of her forearm. "Then Rogbar has a high class of slave," he says, after finding his words again.
"Had. You're a noble, now, and no-one's slave. In fact..." She calls to one of the guards, "Estelle, see if there's been a room prepared for Aibne, please?"
"Yes, Milady!" Estelle salutes before she runs off.
Aibne is looking decidedly bemused. "Slave is not precisely the word. A contract, ah... Ind- inden-... Indenture? I believe that was the word." it sounds alien on his tongue.
"That sounds more reasonable; Dworkin does not like slavery." Alys' expression hints that she doesn't much like it either, though she doesn't comment on that. "I suppose if you wanted, you could buy that contract out instead of simply declaring it void."
Aibne raises an eyebrow. "such a thing would be easier if mysterious wizards were not absconding with the last three years of my earnings.
Alys shakes her head. "You really don't understand, do you? However much was in that purse isn't even relevant anymore. If you need funds, the castle's properties will provide them. You could declare the contract void, and pay nothing. You could declare that the contract should be bought out, and the bill sent to Amber, or Ht'gon, or wherever. You could draw a replacement purse from the treasury. Or ten times that amount, if you needed it."
Aibne blinks, growls, and starts to cross his arms as the guard comes running back down.
"Milady, milord," the guard says, huffing a little. "Lord Aibne does have a suite made for him."
Aibne snorts, and frowns. "This must be some trickery..."
Alys shrugs. "Trickery, certainly, but the trick seems to be on Morek or perhaps Rogbar. Or one could argue that it's a trick on all the nobility everywhere; I doubt many will be pleased to see you elevated to royalty. Or, I suppose, some might argue that it's me trying to play such a trick - but then, that's why I checked on whether a room had been prepared; I certainly didn't order that..."
"Shall we go see what Dworkin has arranged for your quarters here?"
Aibne grumbles, but nods, crossing his arms. "As well might we as not. Ayum ought need fear no blades in this place."
Last edited by Wyvern on Thu Mar 20, 2014 11:51 pm, edited 1 time in total.
Re: 6.12.30 : Main Hall
Estelle leads the two of them to a room in the guest quarters; it's a luxurious suite, and filled with things designed to remind Aibne of his home. Aibne blinks, looking first at the musical instruments hanging carefully on a wooden rack opposite the entrance. Each is carefully and exuisitely carved, and he walks over as if in a trance, lifting a lute and plucking it slowly. It sings sweetly, perfectly in tune.
The room itself looks as if it were carved from a single tree, not a piece of wood mismatched, and a not-small purse sits on a pillow of goose down.
Alys pauses at the doorway. "May I come in?"
"Oh, yes, of course," Aibne says absently, as he sits on the bed. It's clothed in soft cotton, but gives only gently, firmer than straw or down.
Alys enters and looks around, tapping idly on a few bits of wall paneling. "That's quite the impressive collection," she gestures at the rack of instruments. "I take it you're something of a musician?"
"Skald. Er, bard, is the word most this continent know." Aibne is looking a bit lost and confused, like he doesn't know how to take this.
"Skald it is, then. Any songs in particular you'd like to share? ...Or," Alys tilts her head quizzically, "Should I give you some time to rest and think about this?"
"This, all... I don't... I don't know how to take this," he admits slowly, frowning. "I've never..."
Alys nods. "I understand some of the other royalty were... not expecting such a promotion, either. I, by contrast, grew up expecting to rule - just not here. Dworkin picks who he picks, and the reasons why are... less than obvious, shall we say."
The bear nods a little, dazed. "I... Think I need time, to take this in..." he says slowly, frowning. "and it's been... Very long since I've slept..."
Alys nods. "You didn't look that well when you appeared. Get some rest, then; if you need anything," she gestures towards a bell pull near the door, "You can ask the castle staff for it. Or my room is one door further down the hall; I expect I'll be either there or the library for most of the day."
She stands, and moves to leave the room.
Aibne blinks a little and nods very slowly, frowning. "Thank you, Alys," he says quietly, looking around and really taking in the room.
"You are most welcome."
Alystrakos leaves and closes the door behind her.
Then she spends the next half hour or so dealing with the aftermath - letting Ayum know he's suddenly short one guard; officially voiding that contract of indenture (with the note that it may be bought out, at Aibne's whim, but regardless it's definitely no longer valid), etc.
The room itself looks as if it were carved from a single tree, not a piece of wood mismatched, and a not-small purse sits on a pillow of goose down.
Alys pauses at the doorway. "May I come in?"
"Oh, yes, of course," Aibne says absently, as he sits on the bed. It's clothed in soft cotton, but gives only gently, firmer than straw or down.
Alys enters and looks around, tapping idly on a few bits of wall paneling. "That's quite the impressive collection," she gestures at the rack of instruments. "I take it you're something of a musician?"
"Skald. Er, bard, is the word most this continent know." Aibne is looking a bit lost and confused, like he doesn't know how to take this.
"Skald it is, then. Any songs in particular you'd like to share? ...Or," Alys tilts her head quizzically, "Should I give you some time to rest and think about this?"
"This, all... I don't... I don't know how to take this," he admits slowly, frowning. "I've never..."
Alys nods. "I understand some of the other royalty were... not expecting such a promotion, either. I, by contrast, grew up expecting to rule - just not here. Dworkin picks who he picks, and the reasons why are... less than obvious, shall we say."
The bear nods a little, dazed. "I... Think I need time, to take this in..." he says slowly, frowning. "and it's been... Very long since I've slept..."
Alys nods. "You didn't look that well when you appeared. Get some rest, then; if you need anything," she gestures towards a bell pull near the door, "You can ask the castle staff for it. Or my room is one door further down the hall; I expect I'll be either there or the library for most of the day."
She stands, and moves to leave the room.
Aibne blinks a little and nods very slowly, frowning. "Thank you, Alys," he says quietly, looking around and really taking in the room.
"You are most welcome."
Alystrakos leaves and closes the door behind her.
Then she spends the next half hour or so dealing with the aftermath - letting Ayum know he's suddenly short one guard; officially voiding that contract of indenture (with the note that it may be bought out, at Aibne's whim, but regardless it's definitely no longer valid), etc.