Imbrium

Jade Gardens Keep - Courtyard


 * Jade Gardens is set at the forefront of a expansive stretch of land, the markings of tilling and mining from centuries before still visible on the soil. The keep itself is set onto something of a flat hill, whether made that way or naturally so, its become forgotten through the years. Servants' homes can be seen in the nearby fields, as well as pastures, close at hand, for both the nobles' horses and working beasts.


 * The courtyard of Jade Gardens is a simple one, circular in fashion and unwalled. The carriage house is to the left, tucked in the shadow of the building. No windows adorn the front walls, grey stone rising into the sky and topped with banners of green. Two heavy doors lead into the keep itself, the fields stretching out around the strange manor house.

This evening, Duhnen can be found in the front of Jade Gardens, watching two arguing carpenters a bit away butting heads over the proper way to fix a broken carriage. The Seamel only seems slightly amused by all of this.

Glimpses of a figure on horse back dismounting and then setting that horse to graze for a bit might be spotted. Then again, they might not. What is fairly clear though is that same figure making its way into the courtyard. Stoweynne's skirts are muddied, cloak a bit tattered and a keen eye might spot dark stains along the ashen haversack she carries.

Visitors to Jade Gardens aren't anything out of the ordinary, and so the Lady Seamel may not have been thought of as anything special, at first. Though, as she draws closer, and the state of her dress grows more clear for those about to see, the interest in her grows, the carpenters even pausing their ongoing squabble to blink at her. Duhnen turns as well, fixing his attention on his cousin, an eyebrow arching slightly.

Stowynne doesn't avoid Duhnen's gaze. She's likely meeting it from the moment he turns, having identified him as soon as possible and started her B-Line over to him. Her smile is strained, but present. She waits until she's within conversational distance, more or less, to speak. "I know. I look a bit of a mess. However? It was either soldier on regardless or try to see what repairs could be done by stream. And not only would that have simply led to a damp dress, I am not entirely sure that with my luck today my clothing wouldn't have been stolen by ungodly intelligent sea otters or something." She has to stop and take a deep breath after this ramble and she does so. As she exhales, she curtsies, "Your grace. My apologies for interrupting."

"Nothing is interrupted," Duhnen assures her, blinking in the wake of her small ramble, trying to make sense of it. He glances to the staring carpenters, and calls, "Back to arguing over the axle!" He steps forward, his attention turning back to Stowynne to look over her thoughtfully. "What happened? You're not injured?"

Stowynne's smile remains, its brittle quality intact even as the cheery tone remains more or less intact as well. She shakes her head in the negative, just a small gesture, "Nothing, your grace. I'm fine, truly. Just... I walked quite a ways and... granted I... It has just been a rather trying few days. I am fine, I assure you." But? For all the certainty she can't quite meet his gaze. She hesitates a moment, "If... I would appreciate leaning on your hospitality for a bit, however."

That eyebrow arches again at the woman's response, though Duhnen nods his head slowly, stepping to her side and offering his arm. "You're always welcome here, of course. I'm sure we can find some fresh clothes for you, as well as have something for you to eat prepared. Did you wish a bath, as well?"

Stowynne takes his arm and her shoulders lose a degree of the tension they had previously possessed. "That would be very good, your grace. My gratitude to you, as always."

"I know. And I'm glad to offer it," Duhnen replies at that with a gentle nod, leading her towards the entrance to the hall at an easy pace. Emerging from the keep comes one of the staff, approaching the pair of Seamels and dipping into a bow. "Take my Lady's pack?" the servant offers, extending a hand tenatively for her to pass it should she wish.

There are two packs being carried. Though only one is stained with, yes, what appears to be blood. Dried but still bearing color. Stowynne hands over it and the other without hesitation. "Thank you," she tells the servant.

The blood stained pack is taken slowly, hesitantly, and the servant glances to Duhnen questioningly. The Duke shakes his head slightly. "Thank you," he tells him, before leading his cousin in through the open doors.

Stowynne is silent for a bit longer, though the exchange was noted. She opens her mouth as if to speak but then decides against it. She instead takes a deep breath and sighs. "You were doing some work on the keep, your grace?" The attempt at polite conversation is made, though it may sound a little weak.

"Hm? Work?" replies Duhnen, before shaking his head. "Ah, no. One of the carriages broke. So they're repairing it. Theoretically. They've been at it all day, and haven't made much progress." He shrugs slightly, not seeming too concerned, and pausing in the hall with her. "What first, did you wish? Food? A change of clothes?"

Behind them, the pack bearing servant enters, holding the burden out a bit from his form. He eyes it half suspiciously, half curiously as he turns to climb one of the winding stairs.

Stowynne chuckles, "My powers of observation are obviously rooting for food first. But? A change of clothes would very likely make me a more amiable dinner companion."

"Upstairs, then," Duhnen nods his head, turning to lead her to the other stairway. "I've kept your room ready. I was hoping you'd return, you see," the man states.

Stowynne blinks, taken off-guard if only breifly. Her smile comes easier, "Then I'm glad that I returned. Though, in truth, there is no place which feels more welcoming to me than this keep. So you've at the least ensured that I will indeed keep returning, whether you meant to or not." She grins for that last.

Duhnen quirks a crooked smile to Stowynne as he leads her up. "Well..I've gone and done it now, then, haven't I?" he jests, sounding amused. "I suppose there's nothing left to do but make the most of it and offer you all we can."

Stowynne does her best to adopt a mock regretful expression, "Don't feel too bad, your grace. Others have made the same mistake." She chuckles then and continues to walk towards the guest room with him.

"Hm. Mistakes made and repeated," Duhnen replies with an amused smile. The servant emerges from Stowynne's room, minus pack, and bows to the pair, before heading down the opposite way of the hall, off on other errands. "There should be some things your size in there, Stowynne."

Stowynne inclines her head to him, "Thank you, your grace. I'll not be long, I promise. Well. As long as a bath, if one has been drawn. But no longer." A last smile, then she's moving quite quickly to the guest room indicated.

"I'll send water up. Take your time. And, after..we can take a walk while your dinner is prepared," Duhnen replies to her with a nod of his head, smiling as she vanishes, before turning to head off and call for water.

Duhnen stands by the doors of the hall, one of them open, the man watching the ongoing drama outside involving the broken carriage. It seems one of the two carpenters has resorted to drawing diagrams on the dirt with a long stick, the other endeavoring to prove him wrong and correct him every step of the way.

Almost two hours have passed. Stowynne's steps are quited by the slippers she now wears, a rather plain gown in gray chosen, but they are likely audible. She pauses at the bottom of the stairs before making her way towards Duhnen. "Your Grace."

Duhnen only briefly glances over his shoulder as he hears himself addressed, and he quickly gestures Stowynne to approach. "Look," he urges, gesturing back outside to the two men. Should she look, she'll likely see one stepping forward to kick dirt over the drawing, ruining it, much to the other's protest, only to begin drawing his own. "They'll stay at this all night, if they're able," he states with a quiet laugh, shaking his head, before finally turning to regard his cousin. "You look much more relaxed. Good."

Stowynne chuckles at the antics of the two. She purses her lips slightly as he makes the notation and nods, "I was travelling north. Just walking. The local baron's son took me for a freelander and challenged my right to be wearing the sword. I ... was likely not as forthcoming as I should have been. But he annoyed me." It is likely not the end of the story, but it is a natural pause point. If Duhnen says nothing, she'll likely continue.

That's enough to draw Duhnen's attention away from the argument, the man turning to face Stowynne. Interest is clear on his face, and he nods for her to continue.

"It became complicated after that. The baron was eventually convinced of my rank, but his Captain injured himself searching in my pack. One of the horsemen took this to be some sort of witchcraft on my part, injuring and endangering, and made to ... well. I suppose that my good health was not on his mind. The baron shouted for him to stop. He did not. The baron stopped him with a blade. The horseman died." Facts are told quite evenly. "The baron told me it was the first time he killed someone, and it didn't please him." She glances over Duhnen, "It is the first time anyone has been killed for me. And it does not please me in the slightest either." She forces a half smile and then shrugs before looking back to the window. "It is not important, but the images have not quite left me alone yet."

Duhnen half turns his head at that, leaning forward slightly, a frown on his face. "He..killed one of his father's men? And his man was handling you roughly? What.." He rocks back on his heels, drawing in his bottom lip as he watches Stowynne for a few moments. "What was the Baron's name?"

"He never touched me, your grace," Stowynne says firmly, "And while the Captain did rummage through my packs? He never touched me either." She sighs, "I told it badly, I'm certain." She licks her lips and speaks cautiously, "I was being difficult. The Captain was told to search my things and he did so. I showed him my ring." The ring with its Seamel seal is displayed by a subtle turn of her hand. "The Baron, also caught sight of the ring and ordered to the Captain to stop and apologize. He did so, but fell onto my pack. The one that had a blade in it. He was cut and, more frightened than wounded. He must not have been Captain long, I think. His men reacted badly. One brought his horse and lance to bear on me, despite the Baron calling out for them to stand down. When the horseman would not? The baron stepped in and stopped him. I wonder... if more might not have been happening. The horseman should never have engaged the Baron in that combat. But he did, he drew on him as well." Her arms have risen to cross over her chest, though her bearing remains straight, "It was Baron Aulus Tolis Kahar III."

"I see," nods Duhnen at that, considering her words carefully. "The Baron did what was proper, and moved to defend you. You'd have done the same for him, should the circumstances have been reversed, I'm certain, Stowynne." He nods again. "I'll speak with the Baron, then. We'll work this out, hm? I promise."

"He did," Stowynne says, still firm. Apparently the idea of there being issue over this situation is one she wishes heartily to avoid, "I am merely... not pleased with the idea..." She smiles tightly, "It will not stop me. I am not undone by it. But it is the first time I've seen someone die. And it was, at least, partially my fault. If I had merely been cooperative from the beginning..." She sighs and looks back to the window, "I know it is rather silly, your grace." Her expression is still slightly troubled. She glances back at him, "Thank you. I do not believe that the Baron nor his father holds any ill will for the incident. But you needed to be made aware of it."

"Guilt can be a terrible thing," replies Duhnen at that, smiling gently to her. "But, the truth of the matter is, you don't know what would have happened had you acted differently either. Perhaps you wouldn't have been believed anyway, and he would have grabbed at the pack still, and hurt himself? You can't say one way or the other. None of us can. Death always stays with you..and it never becomes easier. But, you're doing the right thing by not balking from it." A hand is lifted to rest on her shoulder, squeezing companionably. "Still. I should speak with them, all the same, in case they wish to discuss it."

Stowynne's head bows slightly, acknowledging the words and letting them actually sooth. And they must do so, for she smiles as she looks over to him, "I already apologized to the Baron, but if you need me to do anything else, just ask, your grace." She inhales once more and her chin rises again as if to signal the putting aside of the subject. One suspects it is not completely banished from her mind, however. "I have been horribly rude, though. I don't believe I've asked you how you have been of late?"

Duhnen nods his head at that, patting her shoulder again, before finally lowering his hand, only to offer his arm to her. "I've been well, glad to say it. Busy, but that's better than being bored, isn't it? Still, it'll taper down eventually, I imagine, won't it?"

Stowynne moves to take his arm without hesitation, "I would think so. Though if you are being held back from doing the things you love? Perhaps some time for yourself should be carved out of the trudge of duty and responsibility." She chuckles, "And supposedly such things go in circles. When is the last time you remember things being calm?"

Considering that for a moment, Duhnen begins to lead Stowynne outside. "Before I was made Duke. Oddest coincidence, isn't it?" he finally answers with a laugh. "Ah, well. Circles, yes. You're right on that. People will calm down as some balls come around, and suddenly find less to come ask me about, or request."

Stowynne chuckles, "I've overheard two being planned in just this last week, your grace. One should be held outdoors and prove quite novel, if the plans hold fast." She follows him and does not ask their destination.

Duhnen chuckles at that, leading her along. One could notice that his steps seem to increase in pace, slightly. "I had planned on going to at least one. Not sure if you were going attend. Of course, one is a masquerade, so it's quite possible we won't even notice each other. But that's part of the fun, I suspect."

"I have not recieved any invitations as of yet, your grace," Stowynne says dryly, "But if I do? I guarentee you I shall come. Granted, I've a certain affinity for steel that I'm currently indulging in, but that does not exclude the desire to dress up in pretty gowns on occasion and to dance with attentive partners." She grins. "A masquerade indeed sounds fun."

"Ah, I haven't recieved an invitation myself," Duhnen replies with a quirked smile. "But that won't stop me from attending. And, as I said..no one will know it's me. Probably. Until they get a good look at the hair." True enough, he does have rather distinctive curls. He grins down to his cousin and continues along.

"You could always wear a wig, you know," Stowe points out, chuckling, "Perhaps burnished red? Or ice blonde?" Her tone is just a shade too innocent.

Duhnen scoffs, playfully, at that, glancing down to her. "Last time, I wore a hood. It was interesting, really. Danced with some lady who couldn't keep her feet under her, unfortunately. As well as talked with a very drunk and tall man going for the look of an oak tree, I believe, who turned out to be a Mikin. But, no wig. I think you'd enjoy it too much."

"Oh, and a fake beard as well!" Stowynne perks up and her expression becomes entreating. "It'd be perfect." Her lips are escaping upwards, despite her best attempts to keep them controlled.

Duhnen shakes his hed again at that, his amusement impossible to hide. "I'm going to slip some dye into your wine one day, Stowynne. Your teeth will be a lovely burgandy color," he mock threatens, before chuckling and glancing about the grounds as they seem to be approaching the arena. "And, besides! All this attention on me, and none on you?" His attention falls back to her. "We'll have to cut your hair short, perhaps. Yes, we will. It'll be the perfect disguise. Maybe..why stop at short? We'll cut it right to the scalp."

"Now, now, if Lady Mikin does not have to cut her hair to become a knight," Stowynne points out, laughing, "Though you are right. I'll tell you what. I'll wear the beard if you will wear the wig." Her brows rise in arching challenge. There is little chance she is serious though, she's still grinning.

The Duke pauses at that, looking down to her, before he grins. "Careful, or I'll accept. And then you'll be bound to it," he warns with a wink, before leading her again. "It wouldn't be nearly as inconvenient for me to wear a wig, would it?"

"Not if I am choosing the wig, your grace," Stowynne says lightly and tosses her head a little. But she raises a hand as she chuckles, "But alright, alright. No wigs and no beards. This time at least." "Ah, now I'll be thinking of the ball where we actually do go through with it," Duhnen admits with a snicker. "I'm sure we'll be quite the talk. Especially if it's not a masquerade. Then it'll be all the more impressive and society shaking."

"A come-as-you-aren't masquerade," Stowynne says promptly, "Where the more you've dressed as something quite unlike yourself, the better you have presented yourself on the social ladder." She glances over, "I think that you'll find the flood of work coming to your door stemming, at the very least." She snickers right back.

"That would only encourage me to throw the ball myself," he answers quickly with a grin. "I'll have to make it a bi-yearly affair, just so people don't forget. As if they'd have a chance to, anyway, that is."

"Well, it would be one way to keep the House in the social standings," Stowynne muses, "Though, it would be a great deal of work I imagine." She looks around the horse pasture, light curiousity for what might be new since her last time haunting this area.

Duhnen chuckles at that, his attention falling to a green clad woman lingering about. "Mistress Trotter. Bring it?" he asks with a growing grin. He recieves a nod in return, and she heads off, lifting her fingers to her lips to whistle loudly. The Duke waits patiently.

Stowynne inclines her head to the woman addressed and looks to Duhnen, the question in her face and voiced, "A new acquisition?"

The response to the whistle is noticable after a moment. Dispersing from the herd of wandering horses comes one in particular, though what sets the horse apart, aside from it's coloring, is the plates of armor that it wears. Still, it carries it about comfortably, approaching Mistress Trotter to nuzzle and recieve a carrot.

Imbrium


 * A broad and stalwart female Imbrium, blessed with a beautiful coat of pearl that shimmers and gleams in the light. In height, she stands about sixteen hands tall, her small and well-spaced cinnamon eyes flanking her long and vaguely triangular head, leading to a smooth and slightly arched neck. The War Horse stands upon long and vigorous legs, possessing powerful hooves that fully proclaim the meaning of haste with every step.


 * Unfalteringly loyal, her smooth flanks are flecked with speckles of obsidian, while socks of charcoal flow from hoof to knee. Her mane elegantly cascades down the side of her neck, set in the colour of pure snow, her tail contrasting against it as it remains dipped in obsidian; an obsidian that one might notice encircles her left eye in a short patch.


 * Forged of thin steel plate, the armor that flows upon the steed has been tooled to host ornate floral etchings and delicate intaglio. In design, the armor segments resemble leather armadillo shells; each composed of interlocking lames, articulated by gliding rivets under the steel plates to allow the horse freedom of movement without a cost in protection.


 * A gleaming shaffron protects the Imbrium's head, leading to the crinet that guards her long neck. This in turn links to the peytral that defends her chest, and the crupper that flows across her rear. A padded coat of deep blue covers her barrel to protect the armor beneath and the rider above; the latter from the elements, and the former from chafing.


 * Finally, a saddle of sienna leather rests upon her back, straps hanging beneath it to connect to the stirrups that hold station there, while armor flanchards keep a sentry upon her sides, ensuring her safety against attack.

Duhnen's eyes sparkle as he watches the approach of the shire, finally turning his attention back to Stowynne to nod his head. "You could say that, yes." He gestures out to the animal, beginning to lead her towards the fence, opening it and drawing her through. "We let her run about with the plating on for periods of time to help her grow more used to the weight. She's growing right strong. Her name is Imbrium." He pauses for a moment, humming to himself, before adding, "Oh. And you'll take good care of her, won't you?"

Stowynne's eyes are focused on the mare as she comes out and is led by Duhnen. She nods along with Duhnen for a moment as he speaks, then does a double take. She stares first at Duhnen and then at the mare. Her mouth drops and words momentarily escape her.

Duhnen seems content to wait, though an amused smile is fixed on his face as he watches Stowynne. He brushes his hands over a bit of the horse's coat left uncovered by the armor, before reaching into his cloak to draw out an apple. This, of course, immediately draws the horse's attention, turning her neck to sniff in the fruit's direction, her snout quivering. Still, the man offers it to Stowynne with a grin.

Stowynne's face undergoes some notable contortions before she drops her gaze and takes the apple. Once it is in hand she approaches the horse and offers it out, palm open. "Imbrium," she murmurs. Once the horse has lipped the treat from Stowe's hands, the young noblewoman is caressing along its neck. "You are the most beautiful thing I've seen in some time, you know." She glances to Duhnen and exhales pent up emotion in laughter. "...I am soon going to need to find new words. I'm wearing 'thank you' quite out."

"Thank you is just fine, Stowynne. Just fine," Duhnen replies with a grin and nod. "I'm glad you like her. I'm certain you'll both grow to be great friends and companions. You can store her armor in the barn when you don't wish her to wear it. There's a space for it." He steps back to close the fence, before returning.

Stowynne doesn't seem inclined to leave Imbrium just yet. She continues to caress and croons lightly under her breath before grinning to Duhnen, "Thank you," she repeats again. "And indeed. You'll have a hard time getting me to leave the pasture tonight. Unless you intend to allow the horse in the guest room?" She rises up on her toes breifly before subsiding.

"That'd be quite the trick," laughs Duhnen at that, shaking his head. "I'll just have your meal brought out here. Other than that, I encourage you to ride her often, with the armor on and off, so she'll grow more used to you. And, eventually, maybe we'll get you in a suit to try, as well."

Stowynne leaves Imbrium with a last pet and though the horse snuffles after her hair, it does not follow further. Just as well. Stowynne stands in front of Duhnen, shoulders squared. Her expression cleared of amusment now and left with the simple gravity of a vow, "I won't let your faith in me down, your Grace. You realize that, don't you?"

Duhnen's smile turns from amused to quite warm as he regards the woman. "I know that, Stowynne. I know that well. I see a great future for you, you know. Alone, you'll accomplish great things. Together? With myself and the other future Bronze Riders? Who knows what we'll manage."

''Return to Season 6 (2007)