Talking in Courtly Circles

Talking in Courtly Circles
Summary: Cassia is traveling on the road to Wolfshire when the party stops for a rest and she meets Sir Gustav. Sizing up ensues.
Date: 24/07/2013
Related: [ [None] ]
Cassia Gustav 

The Road to Wolfshire from Lakewood
Grassy field on the road to Wolfshire.
July 22, 1329

The party going south, having come to a halt to rest the horses, has gone at a rather steady pace for most of the day. The bright blue sky is barely marred but for a few small, wispy clouds dotted here and there; the sun shines mercilessly at it's zenith as riders dismount for a rest. Servants set out some simple foodstuffs on a large piece of fabric set on a patch of shady grass. Cheeses and wine are in the nobility of camp's hands as the chat idly, dotted around the fabric picking at the trays.

Cassia Auldholme is found outside of that group, against a half fallen tree, watching the others talk and laugh with a certain cool look upon her face. She picks at the end of her plaited golden locks, sighing ruefully as others join their ranks. Her dark blue riding skirts are spread around her as she sits straight backed against the tree, even in this relaxed state of affairs. She sits on her saddle blanket, taking a look at her cream colored horse grazing nearby, picking little flowers out of the ground around her. Her two guards she brought with her, sitting a few trees down, giving the lady some space.

The north is home to warmer colors on their banners, but here in the royal party of the south, the cool blues and greens are everywhere, perhaps just to mock the Auldholme lady for where she has found herself. One such color soon wanders across her path: a man who might be tall, were he not leaning on a cane, dressed in the vidid, dark forest green of House Sollinger. Traveling leathers, of course, though his attire is by no means otherwise normal; a cane in one hand, a long smoking pipe in the other, and an eye patch over the left side of his face. He wanders at a considerably slow pace, a pensive expression painted on his face, with a light grey cloud following behind him, almost a mist. He does not appear to notice or care about the Auldholme woman as he nears…at least, not yet.

Hands work on a little wildflower chain in the ladies lap, she lifts her head and wipes her brow as the shade seems to do nothing to stifle the heat of the afternoon sun. Looking around herself for some more of the little white and pink flowers she had been working with, she sighs when she notices there are none. Her features twist in contemplation as she glances around for more elsewhere. She spots the man with a cane, his boots nearly treading on a choice cluster of flowers. "Sir," Cassia calls out with a wave of a hand, "my apologies, sir, but if you would step around those, I would be ever grateful." Cassia points in the direction of flower patch and smiles crookedly as she ties the last flower in her lap to the chain.

Though he may not have noticed by her face, the lady's accent alone gives the seaborn knight pause. His one visible eye roves down near his feet, then towards the source of the plea. "A mite bit old for making flower chains, are we not, my lady of Auldholme?" comes a languid, somewhat mocking voice. "Or do you northrons practice the skills of childhood all throughout?"

A small laugh comes from the woman as he talks. "Perhaps, but we should never forget where we come from, nor should we forget happy past memories." Cassia nods to her words as she talks. "Besides, what else is there for me to do, sir?" Cassia says shrugging lightly. "Should I partake in wine that will leave me just as parched from the dry conversation that comes with it? Eat foods that will only serve to hunger me further for better places? No. I will twist flowers to pass my time, for now."

"Ah, but that is simply feeding a hunger of a different sort. Tread with caution, my dear lady, lest you incite further need to reminisce when you least need be distracted - a danger, I think, you'll admit is far worse than feeling peckish," the Sollinger man chides in response. "Besides. You will have plenty of time for that during your stay."

"Aye," she nods to the man's words, "I know. I will be better once we reach Wolfshire. I feel like I'm on display with all of these people. Most will move on once we get there, I suspect." She ties off the flowered chain in her hand and rises, brushing off her skirts as she does so. Placing the flowered circlet on a little girl's head, the girl curtsies and runs off squealing, 'l\Look Myrel, I'm a Princess, I'm a princess.' Cassia smiles at this and moves toward the man, bobbing curtsying. "You know my name, sir, but I do not know yours. I do not speak to strange men without names, usually."

"Adorable," the southerner grumps, watching the little girl flee. "Sir Gustav of House Sollinger, my lady. Former Blue Guard, now Royal Steward to her highness the Crown Princess Fayre of House Taniford," he explains, shortly, offering the slightest of bows. "Which only puts us marginally at odds, in any event. Indulge my curiosity for a moment, if you will, my lady of Auldholme…why have you come along?"

"Well met, Sir Gustav of House Sollinger," she nods her head respectfully. "It is good that we are only marginally at odds, sir, " she gives the former Blue Guard a warm smile. "You didn't hear? His Highness, Prince Jerric sent me to go with his sister, the princess Niniane. There is to be a truce, of sorts." Cassia sighs lightly as she lays out the terms. "The prince pulls back his forces and destroys his trebuchets; the Queen gives him back his sister. She asked that two would accompany her for his assurance, and she would send two of hers with him to report when the terms were met. Sir Alek and I were the two he sent."

"Of course, of course. But why /you/, my lady? And why would you want to? What compels a woman of your nature and grace to come…here?" he asks again, emphasizing the personal, rather than political connection to the task.

"Beyond the prince saying that our house was one of his staunchest allies, I do not know. Perhaps it is my way with politics and diplomacy that he wishes to use. That, or I am disposable to him." Cassia looks across the field a moment at the kids playing then back to the Sollinger man. "As for my reasons? My prince asked me to come and be a companion to the princess, it is my duty to oblige him, no? I am nothing if not loyal, sir."

"Is that so?" Gustav inquires rhetorically, and quietly. "Curious then, for a lady's presence to be all business, and yet…without her princess. But, so it goes," he opines, cracking the faintest of smirks, as if he had just come to some conclusion. "Perhaps if you were continuing on with us, I would insist on dinner. Business, and all that. But then…no, you will be off too soon. Perhaps another time, my lady."

"She is not far, and dismissed me to the shade and my thoughts. There is not much I can do for her in that gaggle of clucking hens and cocks. No doubt she sits next to the queen and her courtiers partaking in conversation and wine." Cassia looks to the blanketed spot behind her. "I believe Wolfshire is where Her Majesty intends for us to remain. If she will stay there herself, I do not know. Alas, so goes the royalty. Entirely unpredictable and always surprising," Cassia chuckles lightly at that, making light of her otherwise cool mood.

"Is that so? I have a different view of them entirely," the cyclopian knight shrugs. "I suppose we will see which holds better in due time. Carry on, my lady…carry on." And with that, the lordling steward finds his pipe with his mouth again, and continues his walk.

"Indeed," Cassia agrees, bobbing a curtsy as Gustav announces he will leave. "Good day, sir, we shall see how surprising these royals turn out to be." She smiles to the man as he pulls out his pipe and walks away. Cassia swoops down to scoop up the flowers that started it all, determined to make a flower chain for poor Myrel's hair — everyone should feel like a princess, after all.

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