Good Business

Providence Gate


 * ''The Imperial Thoroughfare maintains a fairly steady east-west route on this span between the Lightholder crossroads and Providence Gate, which marks the departure point from the Palace District and into the Market District.


 * ''The cobblestone road makes its way up small rises and down gradual slopes, through ancient woodlands, past creeks spawned by the Lightholder River and past the occasional merchant establishment.

Taran is apparently taking it easy today, or at least carefully. Cloak wrapped tightly about himself to counteract the wind, the bard rides slowly westward down Providence Road; his famed Lute's glow is hidden beneath his cloak's folds, and his staff is strapped to the side of Presti's saddle.

"Light, Accolade, have mercy." Frowning, a small figure shifts uncomfortably in the saddle of the horse beneath her, her hands wound nervously into its well-combed mane. She comes from the east at a trot, and appears much too tense to allow her body to move with the horse's. The hood of her patched black cloak is thrown up over her coarse curls.

It may be the uneven rhythm that catches the bard's attention, but the hood of his cloak turns and - although his hands do not move - the horse turns, edging out of the noblewoman's way. "Light's greetings, my lady," he calls, though by the tone he probably doesn't expect an answer.

Bringing the horse to an abrupt halt, Milora sighs and removes her hood, glancing in the direction of the salutation. "Oh, Master Songbird," she says, giving a somewhat lopsided smile. "Light's greetings. Oh - do not mind me. Accolade dislikes me, and I can hardly blame him."

Taran bows, and offers a smile of his own. "I spoil my horses with sugar," he says. "This often makes them like me a bit better. How fare you, my lady? Do not let me interrupt your travels, I am sure they are important."

"Accolade belongs to the Duke," Milora explains, her voice rather flat as she looks rather apprehensively down at the beast she rides. She seems very uncomfortable in the saddle and is steering the creature by the mane, pausing to speak to Taran by the uncrowded gate. "He is not used to me as a rider - His Grace is firmer with him, so he considers me a soft touch. My Vigil is a little smaller and more comfortable, and unfortunately unavaliable to me at this time. I am only taking a detour on my way to East Leg from Silkfield - for a short visit, as it were. I had much rather speak to you, if you are not very angry with me."

Taran blinks. "What has happened to Vigil, my lady?" he asks, surprised. "And why would I be angry with you?"

The brisk morning wind blows along the thoroughfare, birds singing and even the clattering of wagons and hooves pass by every so often. Some of these very hooves herald the approach of a cloaked noblewoman flanked on either side by two guards. Both seem dressed in little more than black cotton shirt and pant. The theme of black for the day carries over to the tabard that each man now wears, the emblem of a mongoose wrapped about a burning torch emblazoned on the chest.

"We shall need to see about a sculptor for the fountains and if we cannot find the carpenter that I seek, other arrangements may need to be made." Celeste states to the two men at either side, the three seemingly holding a conversation as they ride towards the east. "Well, the mason took the last wagon with Aegis, so we may want to see about pro..procker...shades, getting another one," mumbles the dark haired guard to the noblewoman's side. "Otherwise, we may have to borrow that Marked man's one," scowls the guard...not content with such a prospect. "He's a name, Markus...best you remember that," the woman's voice firm but kind.

"I am aware that my behaviour lately has been questionable," Milora says plainly, raising her eyebrows. "I am probably in sore need of a long scolding, and as His Grace is not in the way of talking sense with me at the moment - we quarreled. So I, well," she turns a little pink, averting her eyes momentarily, "that is - I probably shouldn't have - but - I took Accolade. We were staying in Silkfield, and we quarreled, so I took his horse and his purse and told him that he could walk to East Leg and give me a few days to think. I meant to see about a cousin in Lightholder about some meaningful conversation, but I am not angry any longer. I may turn just around and go make my apology."

Taran lightly reaches forward to pat Presti's neck. "His grace...is a man of firmly held convictions," he says slowly, and a bit carefully. "Where the facts are confused or in doubt, of course there will be dissention and disagreement. I saw no disgraceful behavior on your part, my lady."

The trio continue to approach towards the gate, slowing at the sight of bard and Lomasa. Celeste tugs firmly on the reigns of Rampart, the mare actually rearing back...for a precarious moment it seems that the noblewoman will once again pitch over the hindquarters, only to steady the beast quickly. Her hand reaching down to brush at the side of Rampart's neck. "No no, darling...no tossing me today," she coos to the animal. The couple forgotten in the near diaster. The two guards at the noblewoman's side seem horror-striken for the moment, then realizing that the woman will not once more find herself on her rump..snicker.

"His Grace's behaviour is the same as my own," Milora explains patiently, looking rather tired. "I am representative of him now more than ever. If he behaves badly, I am equally at fault, and if I behave badly it will reflect badly on him. All the better," she says vaguely, "I suppose." Closing her eyes tightly, Milora cringes at the fuss that's suddenly raised nearby - an impatient sigh comes from her, then, as she glances over Celeste's way. Accolade dislikes Mily, but he is not easily spooked or shied; as such, she is spared from being jostled by him. He does, however, give an unseemly snort and an annoyed stomp of his hoof.

"He is the Duke, my lady, the patriarch of his house," says Taran, shaking his head. "While all Lomasas reflect upon him, and he represents all Lomasa, it is...an unequal representation. You cannot control him and it would be shameful to him if you tried and publicly succeeded." He, too, looks over to see the Mikin commotion...and smiles a little. Not mocking; almost affectionate. "My lady...he did not act entirely without cause, even if his understanding was incomplete. A passionate man will act before all the facts are in his possession; there is nothing you can do about this. Please, my lady, do not feel badly about it. Forward is still a direction."

Rampart once more soothed, or at least not in a pitching mood at its rider's poor treatment returns to the soft canter. "Light's greetings and blessings," replies Celeste as she nears the bard and Lomasa again. The guards angling to the woman's side as not to interfere with the conversation if the noblewoman should choose to halt. The blonde reaches up her velvet, clad hands to push back the hood of the russet cloak, smiling to both Taran and Milora in kind. "I hope that this morning finds you well, Lady Lomasa...Master Taran," the woman's tone somewhat amused in her own behavior.

Exhaling emotionally, Milora shakes her head. "He is my benefactor, and as such the consequences of our behaviour is shared evenly. This is a woman's place, is not it? - Anyroad," she says gently, "whether he was in his rights or not, he was harsh and hasty - and, oh. I almost wish that he would not be so passionate. But I am glad that you understand him, sir, thank you. It is his nature. He was not wrong, but his feelings were poorly executed. This is too often the case. I am tired and my thoughts are everywhere."

Looking witheringly at Celeste, Milora manages a smile and a half-bow. "Viscountess, I suppose," she says politely, raising her eyes at last. "Light's greetings. Are you well?"

Taran smiles. "One can fail to be wrong and fail to be right at the same time," he says. "His grace had cause and reason, but I think were he better informed he would not have behaved in the same manner. It remains for those of good will to mend what can be mended, and move forward once again." He bows from the saddle towards Celeste. "Light's greetings, my lady. Perhaps a moment or two standing will mend the rift between rider and mount?"

From Rampart's saddle, Celeste sighs heavily, offering a bemused smile towards the bard. "I was well within my rights to request him to leave. By Imperial Law, he was trespassing upon the private lands of my House, Lady Lomasa. It is my own goodwill, that I have not reported such a slight to the Duchess and the scandal that could ensue. He is allowed his opinions and thoughts and I would welcome them if they were spoken in a rational manner, but he refused to hear any of my explanations that evening...as by your eyes, you will do me the same discourtesy now. Lady Milora," Celeste says firmly, "There is /no one/ within my House lands that intends to worship the Shadow lest they be put down by my own hand. I was and still in my heart, am a scourge. The Light is all I have ever known, and feel that Imperial Law has been put aside too often by my brethren...no matter what the Emperor has put down."

The Mikin raises her hand, halting the two guards at her sides. "There will be no weapons allowed in my home without my or the Duchess's expression permission. As to the images that so upset the Duke, if the Matriarch of my House seems troubled, as well, of my choice of symbols....all signifiers of the Light in it's very incarnations, then I will adhere to her word. But to walk into my home and sling insults, without even knocking upon my door...this such behavior would not be abided by in Riverhold, why would it be acceptable in my House's lands?"

"Viscountess, you are perhaps too eloquent. I fear that this is neither the time nor the place," Milora suggests with a small smile, stroking Accolade's mane as she fixes her gaze on Celeste. That gaze is not exactly warm or affectionate, but neither is it cool or aloof - there is a strange sort of expression there, like humble sympathy or just weariness. "You misunderstand, and you hold too much bias of your own at this current time. I am prepared to wash my hands of this silliness, because my patience is wearing thin. If you and I were to speak as adults, my lady, and if I were to allow you to explain your thoughts to me and then explain my thoughts to you - would you listen?"

"The world is a sadder place when beautiful women must be at odds," says the bard quietly. "But truly, it is an unpleasant day weatherwise and this, no proper locale. If the two of you gracious ladies do wish to discuss, perhaps a private room at a tavern, over a spiced wine? But - my ladies, not here. The darkened sky will do nothing to lift the hearts of either of you."

From Rampart's saddle, the soft sigh escapes the Mikin's lips again, sadness to her own sea green gaze. "I will always listen with an open mind to any who will pay me the same justice," explains Celeste. "What I say is neither childish or out of anger, but only a cautionary warning that though he may be a Duke, it does not give him free reign to trespass. He would have been welcomed, if he could have only heeded my singular request, even in his anger. Yes, Lady Milora....I will speak calmly and at length of this matter." She offers the Lomasa a slight smile, "you have known my passion for the Light to be true...even more so than the love of a man. That has not wavered and remains true. We can speak now if you wish, or meet at Lightholders since my home brings discomfort to your eyes. Though I had hoped to show my dear friend the beautiful garden that resides there. Perhaps in time, that day will come."

Celeste smiles towards Taran, nodding her head. "Ever the wise man, Master Taran. Believe me when I say, this situation brings sadness to my own heart, as well. Yet, I will not detain you both any longer. As you said, the weather is turning, and I should at least see of another wagon as it would seem that Master Griedan is busy with the last."

Nodding at Taran, Milora looks solemn. "Yes, Master Songbird, that is an excellent idea. I am prepared to open salon and provide wine to show my gratitude; you must, however, attend and mediate. You are reasonable and will not take sides."

Looking back at Celeste, Milora nods. "Then come and talk to me," she requests gently. "I will follow you, but I will suggest that perhaps the inn in Lightholder would be better suited to the purpose."

The bard turns his mount by a twitch or two of his knees, his hands left free. "Lightholder then, gentle ladies," he says. "And a private room therein, and warmed wine, away from the weather and prying eyes." He looks towards Celeste's escort. "If all are willing, shall we go?"

The dark haired guard looks towards the bard and then towards Celeste. "Um...sure?" Definitely more a question than affirmation. The noblewoman glances towards the two guards. "Go on to the market and then back to Silkfield. I shall seek you both out there, just do not get too far into your cups that we cannot find where you put the wagon." The Mikin's voice playfully chiding as she glances back to Taran. "There is little concern for my safety with you both. I do not believe either of you mean me ill, and I can return to the manor afterwards."

Celeste twitches her own reigns of Rampart back towards the western end of the thoroughfare. "Shall we then?" Her tone once more lightened at the suggestion of both Lomasa and bard.

The Lightholder Tavern Performance Hall


 * ''This wing of the tavern juts off to form the lower branch of the 'L' of its structural design, supported by a series of polished wooden columns hung with wrought-iron lanterns that are usually kept at their dimmest setting to keep the mood as subdued and creative as possible.


 * ''As in the main room, the floor here is strewn with rushes to soak up spills, but a rather large rectangular space is open in the midst of the tables, providing ample space for patrons to dance should they feel so inclined.


 * ''Two stages dominate the west and east walls of the performance hall. The west stage is reserved for musical performers, from soloists to entire musical cadres, while the smaller east stage is used by storytellers.

"Very well, then," Milora says, pouring fine light star wine from a long-necked bottle into three waiting glasses. Her back is rather stiff as she pauses, filling her glass as full as she dares before taking it into her hands and replacing it with the bottle. "Viscountess," she says gently, turning around and inclining her head, "Tell me what is in your head. I will attend, but be frank with me. I love you and will not hold any of your words against you."

Taran does not sit, in the hall, but remains standing - almost, but not quite, as if a guard. "Be frank, aye, my lady," he agrees. "But not accusatory. This is not a court; to proceed one simply must first begin." He takes a deep breath, and quietly adds, "As you saw events, relate. With no emotion tied to those events, an you are able. From the differences in perception we can begin, if you will."

Celeste takes the glass from Milora, taking a quick sip. She looks from the bard towards the baroness. "I intend to open a chapel to teach Light to any who seeks to learn, whether they be touched, untouched or holy blessed," states the noblewoman....slowly lowering herself to a chair as she finishes.

Milora, too, remains standing - until Celeste sits. With almost an eager restlessness she takes an adjacent chair, taking a rather ... longer sip. The taller woman is regarded through strong steady eyes, and at last Milora replies with something that is not entirely a non sequitor: "I am sorry to have trespassed onto your property. That is, I apologize on behalf of myself and my future husband. We were outside of our rights in that."

"Lady Milora," says Taran quietly, "can you explain what so upset his grace, to lady Celeste? What about it all would enrage him?"

"Apology accepted, Lady Milora," Celeste offers a smile towards the noblewoman. "Though if the Duke intends on speaking to my matriarch, I will have to defend the actions of myself and those within my home," explains the Mikin with sadness. A quick aside to Taran. "I believe it was the Mark of the mages that seemed to cause the distress." The noblewoman looks back to Milora. "Do you know it's the very symbol that is upon my scourge armor? That it was a symbol of Light before it was ever used as an identifier to touched men and women."

"I understand, my lady," Milora says, nodding her head. She looks slightly relieved, although there is still gravity in her face and tone. "If I may explain: His Grace did not come with fear or anger at heart. At Riverhold, he came across the information that you had acquired a new home - you understand that your vacation of Heron Hall could not go unnoticed. He suggested a visit of good will - to warm your new home, and I could not disagree. I had acquired information from Master Songbird at an earlier date as to your residence doubling as a monastery of sorts. Oh, dear - I meant to prepare him for what he might see, but I could not find the words and make them gentle all at once."

For a moment she is flustered, and then regains herself and continues:

"It appeared from the liberal use of symbols that go against our religious traditions, and borrowed from the temple in Crown's Refuge, that your intent was to create a new religion entirely. ... My lady, I know that you understand that that would be heresy, and most unnatural."

"As his grace has seen," says Taran quietly, "The best that can be done is to help him understand. Which means that first, you must understand, lady Milora, to explain it to him." He looks over at Celeste. "Would you?" he asks. "As carefully, and fully as you can, my lady."

Celeste leans forward placing her elbows to the table, lowering the mug back to the table. "I am a scourge from the Stanchion, and in such halls, we believed in the education of the masses. I felt that with such a new beginning under the Emperor's rule, that all the symbols of Light should be represented to remind us not to fall to the Shadow once more. Whether Touched, untouched or Holy's Blessed, we cannot return to the darkened times of lessening and eradication of that which we fear. Instead, if those who have been denied even up until recently to even seek Light's guidance had been show that though they carry this burden...they do not need to remain in the Shadow fully. That they can find the Light and in its brilliance know that, with temperance and self restraint, they can come to realize they are not the Shadow Incarnate...but instead find a way to exist within the dawn of Light."

Carefully, Milora puts down her glass and folds her hands in her lap, turning a mouthful of words over before articulating them. "I do not fully agree with you," she says gently, "but I do understand. Norran and I love you, Celeste, and we do not doubt your goodness. You must forgive him for labelling you as a worshipper of the Shadow; he did not mean what he said and allowed it to pass his lips fuelled by anger and pain. We did not, at the time, see your chapel as what it was: a place of refuge, and a museum of sorts that would display concepts that support the education that you intend to give. I recognize these symbols, now, as purely scholastic and not indicative of heathenism."

Taran says, quietly, "Will you explain, lady Milora, what you believe he did see?"

"That is their intent...to teach and remind, nothing more," replies Celeste with a smile towards Milora. She reaches out a hand to take the noblewoman's, if permitted. "The entire manor was built in such a manner that one must realize that Shadow and Light are ever present in all of us, no matter our birth, and it is with the guidance of Light that we better ourselves and do not become corrupt. There are few who have seen my home, with the exception of those that wish to remain and help. They understand that though Imperial Law would dictate that one should be free to worship. If there is no teacher, then the message is lost." The Mikin looks towards Taran, nodding in agreement. "What do you feel that he saw, Lady Milora?"

"I believe that he saw a place that was to be the beginning of a new heathen religion. This startled and offended him because it seemed to be an affront to our beliefs, and to our worship of the Light. Because he felt insulted and threatened, he was unwilling - no. /Unable/ to hear your reasoning, Celeste." Milora takes Celeste's hand affectionately in both of hers. "What happened with Master Wolfsbane was really no one's fault. It was the product of a misunderstanding alone, and if you will forgive our behaviour - well, then, we are very grateful. Norran would never harm you or your people, Celeste. He really /does/ love you and hold you in high esteem - I understand that he is not easy to comprehend. He is like me. He means well, but it does him little good." At this she can hardly help but smile, albeit weakly.

"You take too much blame upon yourself, lady Milora," Taran interjects quietly. "It is no fault, to wish to uphold that which is right and true. But harm and wrong were still done, and must be addressed, else this matter may explode among the great Houses. Lady Milora, you can make no agreements, can you, that could in any way be binding upon his grace. But you know him best, as Lady Celeste knows the Duchess Mikin. What can be done, to resolve this issue?"

Celeste squeezes Milora's hand gently. "I know he was angry, and he's a bit difficult to deal with in a such a manner....and I do care for you both, otherwise I would have denied your request of my services. I hold you both dear to my heart, but you must realize that there are occurrences within the manor that make me...cautious." She looks towards Taran at the words. "You are correct, Master Songbird. Perhaps we could arrange a private meeting here again?" The noblewoman waves her free hand towards the room in general. "Here, beyond the images...we could speak with reason."

Sighing, Milora drops her eyes for a moment and then gives a wry quirk of her mouth. "I cannot speak for His Grace here," she laments softly. "I do not believe that he means to seek punishment for you, Celeste. His intention is not to have you stripped of your title or your home. I do think, however, that he feels quite hurt by some of the things that were said and done the other night, exactly as you might. He is - a tender heart, despite it all. I think that time should be allowed for these wounds to heal. If he is to take action, Celeste, against what you do, I will ensure that he does it not out of anger, and fully informed. I -"

Pausing, she continues rather timidly. "Celeste, I could almost request that you consider writing him a note, exercising your /very/ greatest humility so as not to have him outraged by misunderstanding your words as condescending, to explain yourself. If he is able to read this and allowed to react to it as he will within the comfort of his own home, it may reap better results."

Taran purses his lips. "Lady Milora...you do understand that certain matters are beyond Lady Celeste's proper scope? It was indeed a misunderstanding on many levels, and on multiple occasions...but his grace - briefly - conducted a one-man invasion of Mikin territory. Lady Celeste's house may not accept her being overly humble in this case. Is there no other means to get his grace's positive attention?"

"I am sorry, but Master Taran speaks truth. The duke intends to report me as a heretic to my matriarch, for not even allowing me to explain what he believed he saw. This can escalate quite quickly beyond either of our control, if we cannot get the Duke to see reason. Though I would have opened him with welcomed arms," explains Celeste, "he did bring insult to my House by conducting in such a manner. I wish to see Imperial Law adhered to in regards to the teachings of Light, and I fear that could fare poorly for the Duke. Since the Emperor feels that those who wear the mark have by right, to be taught. So in truth, we must find a way to cull the Duke's ire...and I fear that would mean that he would need to sit and speak for a few hours of that which he believed he saw than that which is truth."

A rather sad look is cast in Taran's direction. "What would you have me do, Master Songbird? Tell me what you would like Duke Lomasa to /do/, and I can see to it that it is done." A strange undercurrent to that tone, one that may not be uncommon but that is very unfamiliar when expressed by Milora. Beginning again, with a softer tone that is almost artful, and at least mildly strained: "As I said, I do not intend to allow him to do any such thing without understanding what it is that he calls heresy. I do not believe that he will still call this threatening after he and I have spoken, but if he does - well, then, that is out of my hands. -- If a polite audience is what you seek, where he will listen patiently, I can see to it that such a thing is had. I will, however, say that equal patience must be displayed on your part, Celeste; the both of you have quick tempers."

A sigh. "I will /beg/ you to remember that upon entering your home, Norran had every intention of wishing you well and offering the full extent of his aid and protection. Had he been better prepared for what he saw there he would not have been moved to confusion and fear and then anger and bad judgement. That is why the fault lies with me, and why, Celeste, I do not intend to see you suffer as a result of this situation."

Taran offers his hand to Milora, a light brief brush of fingers. "Lady Milora...there is the ideal and there is the real. In an ideal world, he would have seen, understood, and wholly approved. In an ideal world no harsh words would have been spoken, no weapons raised. But this is not the ideal world; do not be saddened by it." He pauses, looking toward Celeste and then back to Milora, rather thoughtfully. "It would be good," he says slowly, "if his grace can understand exactly what it is that lady Celeste is doing, and why. But to explain this will take time and patience, and there is house honor at stake. As a beginning compromise, lady Milora, while we discover what concerns his grace will have when he fully understands the endeavor...would it be fair to ask that lady Celeste keep this from becoming an issue with house Mikin, while his grace agrees not to oppose her work until he has been fully informed of its circumstance and intent? Would this seem a fair compromise?"

"I have stayed my hand currently to keep from bringing this slight to the notice of my matriarch," confesses Celeste. She smiles towards the bard at the endearment, nodding her blonde capped head in agreement. "I will speak calmly and rationally to the Duke, was my intent to come and speak with him at Riverhold after the incident with Master Firelight. Yet, he seemed distraught by the situation and before I could make arrangements to meet him...this occurred."

"As I understood it," Milora says, with an edge to her gentle voice, "that is exactly what I was myself proposing. Norran Lomasa /shall not/ be seeing the Duchess Mikin or the Emperor Zahir until he fully understands Lady Celeste's intentions. Very well." She leans forward across the table, raising an eyebrow at Celeste. "Celeste, my darling friend, I will speak openly to you here. We are both intelligent women and understand that both of our livelihoods are at stake here. To maintain our comfortable positions and homes, it is imperative that his grace does not speak to the Emperor about your ignoble behaviour of late or your rather unorthodox chapel - do not become defensive here, be practical - and that you do not speak to the Emperor about his repulsive lack of judgement two nights ago. Norran is no idiot; I am sure he understands. It would be remarkably simple to put all of this behind us." Now both eyebrows are raised, and Milora looks expectantly at Celeste.

Taran simply looks to Celeste. "My lady?" he asks. "Does it not seem that agreement has been reached?"

"Lady Milora, I have no intention of speaking to the Emperor unless summoned to explain my actions. Either he or my matriarch have that right," notes Celeste. Another glance towards Taran, "yes, Master Songbird. I believe an agreement has been reached." The noblewoman moves to stand, her hands already reaching for the russet hood resting on her shoulders. "Thank you for listening, Lady Milora. There is no intention of drake or shadow worshiping, only that of the Light."

"I know," Milora says, her tone becoming warm again. "Hmm. He does not think that I would make a good wife for my looks." Smiling, she pats Celeste's hand. "Now, I shall be off. As I recall, I had a bit of visiting to attend to. I am glad that we could agree, Celeste, and Master Songbird," smiling at the bard, "you have been an excellent diplomat. I sometimes wonder whether there is anything that you cannot do."

Taran smiles, and bows. "It is my calling to *try*, my lady," he says with a little laugh. "But I am glad if my presence has aided agreement in some way."

"Light guide and protect you both, Lady Milora," provides Celeste. She pull up the hood of her own cloak in preparation to leave. "You can send word for me at the manor. We can meet here again, or Silkfield if you prefer."

Milora nods, rising and making her curtsey before exiting the room. Her wine glass is left behind, still full - and at the door she pauses. "Light guide you, my lady. You will hear from me soon."

''Return to Season 5 (2007)