A Simple Courier

Riverhold Grounds 


 * ''A winding trail leads south from Lomasa Road and the western gate of East

Leg, leaving the walled city behind to stretch south and eventually top a ridge overlooking the Fastheld River.''


 * ''Atop this ridge sits the dark, brooding gray stone walls and solitary

tower of the castle known as Riverhold, half hidden behind the parapet-topped battlements of the curtain wall that surrounds it, built in the year 420 ATA (After the Aegis) by East Leg founder Yontalas Lomasa.''

On a pale horse resides a "well dressed courier" that the Riverhold herald spoke of, just beyond the main portcullis of the battlements that shield the keep within from the eyes of those without. Yet the snow-white animal in question is far from a common breed of horse, and stands with a posture that speaks of regal rearing and station. Indeed, even the "courier" himself is perhaps as far removed from that position as one might imagine, but one can't expect Freelanders to get things right all the time - even *if* that argent hair and those ethereal blue eyes are as much of Serath Kahar's signature as his very face and standing. Yet, being 'left out in the cold' has never seemed to bother the Prince, and - as his quarry finally comes into view - he moves his steed so that her right flank is exposed to the Duke of House Lomasa, allowing the rider a better means of conversing without having to dismount. Far above the scene, the sky is lit salmon pink as the sun sets beyond the horizon, bathing Fastheld in the temperate breeze of an evening fast approaching.

In a few moments after a few calls are made from men amongst the battlements, a singular figure of a man with a noble's stride wearing a leather cloak better tailored to functionality than function walks at a steady gait toward the visitor. He lacks armor, dressed extravagantly enough in silks and standard swordsmens' fair as the form of the Duke Lomasa approaches the Prince.

"A courier, hm? If my men are to be believed, it seems Fastheld's royalty are so poorly compensated as to be forced to freelance into message services," speaks Norran, his visage revealed as he nears to show a rather pleased grin across the young nobleman's face. Once he nears, he bows deeply to the Prince with a slight flourish, his words becoming a bit less brash, "Your Highness! This is rather unexpected, but not unwelcome. Not in the least. I'm afraid I'm ill-prepared, more ill-prepared than I have been for awhile. Nevertheless, welcome to Riverhold! Would you like to venture inside, or is this not the sort of visit you've planned? I haven't done anything recently to warrant any sort of retribution from the Crown."

"I'm not here as an agent of royal vengeance for once, Duke Lomasa," the Prince purrs, a smile of warm amusement flowing upon his features in the wake of Norran's own quips. "However, you're correct in your assumption that I'm not here to tour the grounds, either. That was more of my brother's thing. No, I rode here for a different purpose and, in truth, I *may* have had something to do with the assumption that I was a mere courier." He pauses for a moment, and then adds: "Probably because I declared myself as such. Even a Prince is entitled to a little mischief every now and then, right?"

"Indeed, Your Highness. Your disguise is /flawless/, perhaps I'd be able to secure my own amusement if I had such a gift. Alas, it seems that even if I attempt to dress the part I'm usually found out in a few minutes upon entering any taphouse. My own wardrobe's failures aside, I respect your wishes to remain outside. Somewhat of a shame, if I could've managed to talk you into a spar I'd have managed quite a tale," muses the Lomasa Duke, his grin unabated as he rests a hand on his baldric to adjust his falchion, tilting his head somewhat at the Prince as his expression grows more curious. "Well, then, why may I ask do you honor me with this visit, Your Highness? I know you probably can't tell, but I'm /very/ excited to know."

"Your mood is entirely lost on me, I assure you," Serath deadpans, though not with any degree of contempt - he merely seems to be following Norran's own remark regarding the 'flawless' disguise which, of course, he doesn't have. "I never would have guessed. Regardless, I am here as somewhat of a courier. I have a letter for you, Duke Lomasa. Two, in fact, that I didn't want to entrust to the Fastheld Courier Service, for various reasons." At that, the Prince finally does dismount his horse, descending with a level of agility and grace forged from accomplishing such an action far too many times to count in the past. Once boots touch ground, he begins to rummage in Firefoot's saddle-packs for said documents. "It feels a little... redundant... to be handing you letters that I wrote myself, but I think you'll be interested in the content."

"Forgive my blunt remarks, Your Highness. I /could/ grovel, I suppose, if I didn't know full well it would annoy you even more than acting normally," replies Norran, his grin boundless at this point. He gives a clap of his hands at the mention of the letters, making his way closer and waiting patiently as he watches Serath rifle through the saddlebags, a sight most never have the honor of seeing. "Oh, it's not a bother at all. I'm certain they'd be more effective than any sort of attempt at normal discourse with me. A shame as well, I suppose, we haven't had the opportunity to talk such as this since the /first/ time we spoke like this, which wasn't exactly an interesting story. I'm sorry my wife couldn't be here to greet you, she's coming along quite nicely. A couple more months, I believe." Norran has no problem engaging in simple chatter with the Prince of the Blood, his expression remaining abundantly cheery all the while as he beams at Serath.

"Norran, you're the Duke of House Lomasa," the Prince offers in a somewhat dry tone, finally locating the documents in question and placing them upon Firefoot's saddle before securing the saddlebags again so that other contents do not accidentally spill out should the horse decide to wander off between now and later. "You shouldn't grovel to anyone, least of all me. You know how I feel about sycophantic behavior: if someone isn't being themselves, then they're not being honest, and that's more insulting than no respect at all." Still, with bags buckled and the assertion that a facade is neither expected nor wanted, Serath turns and holds two documents - one atop the other, and both folded - towards the Duke. "I promise that they're not just party invitations," he quips with a smile.

"Although your mantle was far broader than mine, Your Highness, I believe you'll understand me when I say that even after over a year, that realization still doesn't quite stay in one's mind at all times. Looking back from when we first met, could either of us have seen ourselves where we stand today?" questions the Lomasa, accepting the documents with a formal bow before arching a brow somewhat as he reconsiders his words.

"On second thought, perhaps /you/ did. Well, I'm certain you understand what I mean. Regardless," pauses Norran, glancing briefly back toward Riverhold before resuming his attention back toward Serath with a smile in return. "Party invitations? That wouldn't be a disappointment. Not by far," replies the Lomasa, taking a moment to peruse the documents. "If they're something that demands a reply, I could read them now and see if I can take care of it immediately, unless the nature of writing these means you'd rather have me mull it over, Your Highness?"

"It's entirely up to you," Serath answers, folding his arms across his chest as Norran browses the documents beneath the ever declining light of the encroaching evening, though seems to articulate words with gloved hands all the same, even from their folded position. "I imagine we'll discover the answer to that question once you get a general idea of what I've written."

After Serath's words are spoken, Norran gives a slight nod as he focuses his attention on unfolding and reading the documents handed to him. His brow raises slowly as he thumbs through the pages, his expression absolutely serious as he raises his eyes from the pages and looks toward Serath. "You're right. This /is/ quite the party invitation. And what sort of Lomasa would I be if I turned it down? A shame upon my grandfathers and my descendants unto seven generations, no doubt," coolly answers Norran, the Lomasa's grin returning in force.

"Hah! I accept your terms, Your Highness, Sovereign Prince of the Blood! It would be my sincerest honor to take up this duty and return to the Crown's service once more in earnest. I do, however, wonder of this woman of whom you speak. A Lomasa noblewoman with whom you've faith in? And I've never heard of her? The very thought surprises me. I would like to meet with her as soon as possible to see to whom I am abdicating, of course, but if your faith in her is proven then I am most certain to take to the task. The title of Duke was always a surprise from the day it was bestowed upon me. I was never one for the battlefield of House squabbles and politics, and have always felt at my truest in direct service to the Empire. If you would take me into this service, then I will accept."

"The Kingdom," Serath softly points out, almost as an afterthought, as he glances up towards the darkening sky. Still, with all the intention of it being little more than a passing remark, he moves swiftly on from that and finally casts his gaze back upon the Duke.

"A Viscountess Tanara Lomasa of Greencroft Hall, to be exact," the Prince then purrs, pushing the topic ahead, "I'm sure you've encountered her at some point. Regardless, as I stated in writing, we are neither the people we were but a few seasons ago, and now it turns out that I can't think of anyone else I'd like to leave these aspects of Kingdom to in my stead."

The Lomasa folds the documents carefully, tucking them under his cloak as he returns his haze to Serath. "I know the place, at the very least. I'll leave immediately to meet with her. I thank you for the suggestion, Your Highness, and I'll see if the girl has the right balance of fury and good humor to take up leadership of this House Lomasa. When everything is decided, I'll depart to Elkmont to oversee the preparations and take up this role you've offered me, see if I can gather a few worthy Knights while I'm doing so."

His expression softens somewhat, the Lomasa saluting Serath with the old Blades fist-over-heart. "Is there any other matters you'd like me to attend to that you didn't mention in your correspondance, Your Highness? I will see to everything swiftly once I've dealt with the Viscountess."

Serath considers that for a moment, but then shakes his head. The look of light nostalgia upon his features as that Blades salute is given should not go unnoticed. "For now, just meet with the Lady Tanara and see if you agree with my assessment. If you do, then handle the shift of political power yourself, and when you're ready to assume your new title be sure to travel to Light's Reach. I'll handle the act of promotion to your new position myself." "Until then," he adds, turning to make ready to mount his horse once more, "I'll see about disbanding the Imperial Tribunal and finding a few likely candidates for Knighthood from within the organization." Placing his right foot in the stirrup presented to him, the Prince swiftly ascends Firefoot and settles into her saddle, hooking his other foot in the other stirrup a moment later. "While I don't expect you to move with undue haste, try not to tarry either, if it can be avoided. There are things I need to do that I don't wish to leave much longer, but there are other things I need to accomplish before I can embark upon the pursuit of such greater issues. This is one of them. To that end, I apologize that I don't have the luxury of accepting your offer of hospitality here at Riverhold, and..." He smiles once more, looking over the rise of the castle walls and the elaborate keep behind them. "I hope you don't take my need to be elsewhere as a sign of disrespect."

"Not at all, Your Highness. Standing outside is honor enough for these walls," Norran replies, giving Serath a final bow as he mounts his horse. "I'll see you in Light's Reach very soon, then, Your Highness. Thank you again. Light be with you." With that said, Norran returns his hands once more to his sides as he watches for the Prince's departure, not turning away until he's out of his sight while retaining a proud grin across his lips.

In turn, Serath wheels his horse around so that the animal's left flank is facing Norran, finally returns that 'fist-over-heart' salute, and then - without another word - leads his horse around and back towards the north, most likely heading for East Leg, and from there... Well, when it comes to the Prince of the Blood, who can say?

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