Family Affairs

[Sir Karsimir]

First impulse was to cover is mouth with his hand, unfortunately, the only arm untied was wearing a shield, so to follow that impulse would be an excellent way to end up sporting a large bruise on his face. Instead, he settled for trying to bite down his laughter and refrain from doubling over.

Success, although the mirth was clear for all to see.

For all the mirth brought to him, he would have to confess disappointment at Mavelle's polite disinterest in his dreams and ambitions. That stung him, really. A familiar empty feeling came to him when he saw that indifference to justice.

Recovering his composure, he addressed the story people so-obviously wanted to hear. "Thank you." he addressed to Julen, "That reminds me, I still have an arming coat from that exchange. And a falchion, as I recall." Again, he mentioned that quickly and moved on, as civilians were often uncomfortable discussing the concept of looting the dead.

"That was one of the dangers." he said frankly, revealing the extent of his interest in the matter. Without even checking, he could feel the waiting stares demanding more. So, with a heavy sigh, he proceeded. "Yes. There was a group of bandits, who sought to rob me by the road. I cut down two, wounded another. The survivors decided they did not wish to finish the fight. I could say that I did not pursue them as a sign of knightly mercy, but in truth it was because I was still outnumbered. At times I still wonder if I should have gone back and finished them off, in case they would harm anyone else." Only the faintest of breaks indicated slight change in topic, and he was conscious the noblewoman was looking for excitement. "Was this more what you had in mnd, my lady?"

[Julen]

The fact that Railtus had looted the bodies of the dead bandits didn’t particularly bother Julen. Farming came with its own set of grisly necessities, from which Julen had never flinched. So when Railtus mentioned the arming coat and falchion, Julen only paused to wonder exactly what an arming coat and falchion were -- and, on the chance that he might end up carrying them, to hope that they were neither particularly heavy nor cumbersome.

[Falcon Bertille]

Mavelle shivered a little. Railtus had told her the story she wanted to hear, but it hadn’t thrilled her like she thought it would. When her brother spoke about such things, he always managed to make his tales exciting, full of feints and parries, witty dialogue, and clever tricks to defeat his opponents just when things looked the darkest. The way that Railtus described his encounter with the bandits just made it sound grim. However, Mavelle was ever conscious of being a good hostess, so when Railtus asked if his story had been what she wanted, she answered him with a bright smile, although her words contained more honesty than her facial expression. “It both was and it wasn’t. But I thank you for honoring my request by telling it.”

Exiting the main house, they crossed a small courtyard, on the other side of which stood a stone building with clouds of aromatic smoke billowing out of its chimney. Mavelle hadn’t been to the kitchen since she was a child. But now, as she escorted her guests inside, everything spoke to those faraway memories. The bundles of dried herbs handing from the ceiling rafters, the huge wheels of pressed cheese, the pig carcass roasting on a spit over the fire -- they all made her think of being six again, sneaking here to entice between-meal snacks from the servants. When her parents had finally caught her, they’d been horrified, and punished her rather severely. But the recollection of those forbidden treats filled Mavelle with a nostalgic warmth.

As always, the kitchen was a bustle of activity. But before Mavelle could consider how to best make her needs known, one of the cook’s assistants glanced up from the carrot she’d been slicing, and a look of astonishment crossed her sooty features. “Lady Mavelle?”

Mavelle gestured to Railtus’s companion. “This man is hungry. See to it that he eats.” For a moment, she considered telling them to give him the best of everything. But her parents would be bound to notice if the finest wines and most expensive confections went missing. So she settled for a more modest command. “Feed him a meal befitting someone who is a friend to House Anstrun.”

Then, remembering Railtus’s earlier odd behavior, she added “Thank you.”

[Sir Karsimir]

Well, her honesty touched him at least. Quickly, Railtus began to acquire a sense of her innocence. "I understand. My account sounds grim. Real combat often is. I remember the tales and poems of battle same as you do, they all too easily forget that real people get hurt." Some semblance of apology was made for the disappointment. Inspiration struck, perhaps it came from having to make the admission, but the decision felt right. "One thing I do mean, my lady, is to go back and make sure that they never again harm another." Now his trademark conviction was on display. "And I shall do it soon, I think. They have preyed on the innocent long enough." Such calm intensity held the risk of frightening Mavelle. One thing was clear, never would there be a doubt that he meant what he said. With some awareness of the grave severity of what he was saying, Railtus attempted to put the hostess at ease. "Of course, if my earlier encounter convinced them to move on, such a journey will leave me looking rather stupid." he added as a dry observation.

Now she was putting on a show. At the end of the courtyard, first steps within the kitchen, the astonished look from the cook announced that this was not usual behavior from the lady. With that new knowledge in mind, Railtus began to view events in a different light. Only upon hearing her thank the cook did light dawn. Then and only then came the realisation that she was trying to make an impression. Humble as he was, Railtus could not help but wonder why.

Whatever her reasons, it had to start somewhere. "Your kindness speaks well of you, my lady. I shall take care to prove worthy of it."

Then to Julen, "I shall return for you soon enough." It looked as if he wished to say more, but that was all to come out.

Now came the awkward part; turning around with linked elbows. It was an exercise in synchronicity, more akin to a formation wheel than turning face. Semi-successfully turning, Railtus returned to the conversation with Mavelle, looking to steer it to ground easier for her to enjoy. "If you would, my lady, tell me of yourself. I have heard nothing of your dreams and ambitions."

[Julen]

Railtus’s announcement that he would return "soon enough" elicited a nod from Julen. He wanted to tell Railtus to take his time and not worry about him, but he knew that his earlier comment about bandits had already broken protocol, and he didn’t want to risk truly shaming Railtus in front of his family. Also, he was distracted by the warm stew that one of the cook’s assistants had begun ladling into a wooden bowl for him. So, trusting Railtus to handle Mavelle on his own, Julen focused his attention on the all-important issue of lunch.

[Falcon Bertille]

“It seems that I know little of such things,” Mavelle murmured, in response to Railtus’s comments about the reality of battle. “My elder brother, Phelan, always returns from his campaigns unscathed and more honored than before he left. I suppose it never occurred to me that not all sisters are so lucky.” Indeed, this was a new thought for Mavelle, and it genuinely saddened her. Briefly, she wondered if even bandits had families.

But sadness was a dreary place, so Mavelle’s butterfly-like thoughts quickly winged their way to sunnier lands. She’d been impressed by the conviction in Railtus’s voice when he spoke about returning to face the bandits, perhaps even more impressed now that she understood such courage did not come without risk, and his arrival at this decision in her presence made her feel as if she’d inspired it. Again, Railtus was her knight, and she was his lady fair, for whose sake he would perform many heroic acts. “It’s very brave of you to face those bandits again. When you go back, you should take my brother. His skill as a warrior is sung all over Marn.”

“Not,” Mavelle hastened to add, “that I believe you would need his help. But it would be a good chance for the two of you to get to know one another. I’m sure that you’ll find you have much in common.”

Mavelle executed the elbow-linked turn with more grace than Railtus, but she didn’t hold his awkwardness against him. It did, however, raise the question of dancing. Silently, Mavelle resolved to think of some innocuous way of figuring out whether Railtus knew any fashionable steps. After all, if he didn’t, she didn’t want to embarrass him. But if he did, then she’d have to convince her mother to throw some sort of welcoming ball. It would be a true pleasure to show him off in front of every eligible young lady in Marn.

They were just re-entering the main house when Railtus’s final question nearly stopped Mavelle in her tracks. Feeling as if he’d just dowsed her in cold water, Mavelle blinked at her escort. “My dreams and ambitions? I’m sure that no one has ever asked me any such thing.” Still, she reasoned, it was not an unreasonable query. There must be some direction her life was headed in. “To marry well, I suppose, and bring honor to my family. Loyalty to one’s family is the highest cause that a person can serve.”

“Of course,” Mavelle continued, a bit of mischief shimmering in her blue eyes, “if I can do all that without dying of boredom, I would consider it an added bonus.”

[Sir Karsimir]

When the sad thoughts darkened Mavelle's features Railtus wrapped his hand around hers to give a comforting squeeze. Seeing the swiftness with which she brightened, he released the gentle hold, although not freeing his elbow. No words were needed just yet.

A thoughtful look tugged on the brow of Railtus, as though deeply considering her suggestion. Faint nods indicated the direction in which his thoughts were leading. So far there was appeal to that idea. Though he wore his approval openly, no words came to mind just yet.

Then she tensed suddenly at his last question, about her, a question he deemed so simple and commonplace, yet it was something inconceivable to her. Her reaction made him chuckle, her astonishment entertaining to watch. Only for a moment. As she went on about family loyalty he could not keep the surprise from his face. Far higher causes sprung to mind, causes such as justice, compassion, the defence of the innocent. Surely these would come ahead of family? With luck, she would think more of her dreams and goals, would come to understand her hopes for the future and believe she could have a say in that. In all honesty, he hoped her family thought more of her than to trade her off in a political marriage like some sort of chattel. Such treatment of women struck him as an insult, demeaning their talents. At a time like this he did not trust himself to speak.

Mischief returned, the levity rescuing the situation. "Yes. It would be. Dying of boredom hinders most ambitions somewhat." Listening intently, he could feel his own guarded silence all of a sudden.

[Falcon Bertille]

Again, Railtus’s gallantry pleased Mavelle. When he clasped her hand, warmth flickered through her body, as if she was a torch suddenly set to flame. Gently, she squeezed back. She felt so safe at his side. So protected and honored. If Railtus had never released her, she would have been content. However, when he did start to withdraw his hand, she refrained from putting up an unladylike struggle, and let his fingers slip away from hers without protest.

But she couldn’t understand Railtus’s failure to echo her sentiments about family. For one of the rare times in her life, Mavelle felt the need to defend herself. “Ever since I was born, my father has seen to it that I am fed, clothed, and sheltered. He paid for my education. When I was sick, he sent for the best doctors. He has even, so far as he deems appropriate, catered to my whims. I cannot imagine someone to whom I owe a greater debt.”

Pausing for breath, Mavelle remembered Railtus’s peculiar behavior with the servants. Perhaps getting chummy with their hirelings was not the only strange habit practiced by his branch of the family. “Did your father not do the same for you?” She did not intend it as a challenge, but asked with genuine curiosity. By now, she was quite prepared to believe almost anything about Railtus’s House, including the idea that children might be cast into the wilderness and forced to prove themselves by surviving on their own.

[Sir Karsimir]

With a gentle gaze that beheld her, Railtus conveyed openly his full attention. More than that, his openness to her thoughts, refusal to cast judgement on her beliefs. Again, in silence, he let her speak.

As was so usually the case with people, the question asked was not the question for which they wanted an answer. By all appearances, Mavelle was no different in this regard. What she really wanted to know was 'Why do you not feel the same?'

Of all the reasons, there were many. It was a hard subject to think of in places. "It is nothing like that." he conceded, trying to think how far did his father's behaviour match that shown to Mavelle. "What of the causes of justice, mercy and compassion? The defence of the innocent and concern for those less fortunate? Are those causes less worthy?" While to speak of faith would be premature at this juncture, what he spoke of was the substance of his faith in Ydren.

In truth, he did not know how to speak of his family, as he knew little of what to believe. "When you spoke of marrying well," he began very slowly, pausing for certainty, "I think of the women given away in political marriages, tokens of alliance if you will, as trading pieces. Their own talents and potential dismissed, as though their only purpose was to be an extension of power." It was a dark picture he painted, and he hoped he had not brought offence.

"My tenure as a page was served with another House. Though I was well provided for, there were also duties for me to fulfill. Suffice to say I had my uses."

Aware of the harshness of his tale, Railtus stopped himself short, he did not want thoughts of bitterness to reflect poorly on his father. "But my story would not interest you I am sure. Of course family loyalty is a virtue, and from what I see you do a great credit to your own."

It seems matters had become more serious than had planned.

[Falcon Bertille]

“Justice, mercy, and compassion are all important,” Mavelle agreed. “But there’s an entire world in need of such virtue. To try to help everyone equally is to succumb to madness and failure.” She was quoting her father now, rather than voicing an argument she’d developed on her own. But the words were still ones that she believed. “In order to do any good at all, I must choose to help those who most deserve it -- and who deserves it more than people who have already proven their goodness by helping me?”

At the end of the hallway, Mavelle saw a servant watching their approach, and she knew that Railtus’s bath must be ready. Part of her didn’t want to let their conversation end, didn’t want to release the arm she had already grown so fond of having linked with hers. But it was only fair to let the poor man get cleaned up. So, slowing her pace just slightly, she continued on.

“As for my eventual marriage, I appreciate your candor.” That was spoken with true sincerity. Railtus’s concern for the lifelong happiness of someone he’d just met genuinely touched Mavelle. And it was nice to know he thought of her as more than just a pretty bauble to be sold off for the highest bride price. “Certainly, there are fathers who marry their daughters to monsters for no more than an acre of swampland. But my father is not such a man. I have faith that he will arrange a match that benefits all those involved.”

And on that note, they reached the end of the hallway. “Master Railtus’s bath waits within,” the servant informed, bowing to them, “along with a clean change of clothing.”

Mavelle sighed. As much as she might enjoy the view, she was not going to be allowed to watch Railtus bathe. So she reluctantly unlinked her arm. “I shall wait here while you prepare yourself. When you’re finished, we can share a meal, and hopefully my father will be free by then and able to join us.” Struck by a sudden boldness, Mavelle stood on her tiptoes to whisper in Railtus ear. “Perhaps, after meeting you, he’ll decide that you’d make a fine husband for his daughter. I think that would show excellent judgment on his part.”

Then, unable to keep a slight blush from coloring her skin, Mavelle pressed a quick kiss to Railtus’s cheek, and then drew back so he could go wash up.

[Sir Karsimir]

Something rang hollow in Mavelle's first words addressing the ideals Railtus held so highly. He shook his head gravely as she said them, making no pretense of even the slightest agreement. He would not - would not - believe such ideals were futile. "You are right." he said, using the words to neatly disprove her point. "There is an entire world in need of such virtue. And it must start somewhere." Maybe he would never find his perfect world - if he even knew what perfect would be - but he would surely bring a better world for his efforts. Even a partial success was worth devoting his life for.

Mavelle was both intriguing and engaging, and Railtus held regret that their conversation would soon end. The bath was ready, and he had best get on with it if he wished to be presentable to meet Lord Kendall. Without a shadow of a doubt, he looked forward to sharing a meal with the lady.

Then she whispered. At that moment Railtus could not believe he had heard right.

He did. Her blush told him that much. Of course the kiss was a slight clue as well.

Stunned silence kept him speechless until long after the lady had drawn too far back for him to feasibly follow. If he did speak, what would he say? Such a possibility had never occurred to him. Why should it? Recounting the conversation in his mind, nothing stood out as to why she would think so highly of him. Rattled, he proceeded through the open door.

Apparently, he had at least made a good first impression. Stepping into the room, he set down his shield, closed the door behind him and said, "Wow." He took a deep breath, and began to remove his armour. Being without it felt foreign to him. Armour and sword-belt fell together in a messy heap. A separate pile formed on the floor for his clothes. Then he sank gratefully into the hot bath.

He took care not to linger, knowing that Mavelle was waiting for him. What would he say? He did not know how he felt other than stunned. Throwing aside that thought, he picked up the sponge and began scrubbing.

Sure he was clean, but with some mental effort, Railtus dragged himself from the hot water and reached for the nearby towel. He wrapped it around himself and began to dry. The clothes were good, more elegant than the rich foppery so common amongst the city nobles. Apparently the servant had chosen well.

Thinking fast, Railtus considered the issue of armour. The gamberson would need a wash, no doubt. The rest, however, had the potential to be worn. And Railtus wanted to stand before the lord of the House as a warrior, rather than a parasite leeching away on their hospitality. Armour would contribute towards that.

The breastplate, was always clean. It was either that or it would rust. Besides, only surface dirt ever accumulated on metal. Washing was never an issue like this. The leather, however, could use some work. Before donning his garments, he scrubbed away at the surface of his leather pieces. The jerkin, vambraces, greaves and rerebraces were all wiped clean, then towelled off vigorously to dry. The jerkin most importantly, because it served as cushioning to prevent chafing from the breastplate.

Happy with the results, Railtus donned the new clothes. There were dark trews, an embriodered green tunic, and a cloak. Yes, these would do nicely. The embroidery was perhaps an extravagance, but looked quite elegant. Besides, the black and green would match well with his armour. The cloak was of a paler green, with an amber border around the edges. He left his original clothes with his gamberson when he got dressed, rearmoured as much as appropriate, donned his sword belt and strapped on his shield.

Emerging from the door, he cut quite the spectacular image. Hardened leather shined beautifully, creating a fine contrast with the garments. Dark brown greaves covered from ankle to knee, leaving black leggings visible up to the waist. Rigid vambraces covering wrist to forearm highlighted the bright green of the sleeves on the upper arm. As before, on the torso was the steel breastplate, not as bright as envisaged on a white knight but the solidness of the grey tempered his splendour with a look of strength and determination that a bright gleam could not provide. Further contrast was provided by shining blond hair reaching as far as his neck. All together, he formed a sight most pleasing to the eye, while clearly a warrior and not a courtier. The sword at his side and the shield on his arm crushed all doubts of that.

Glancing around, Railtus looked to see if Mavelle was indeed waiting within sight of the door, or if he would have need of the servants to find her.

[Falcon Bertille]

By the time Railtus stepped from the bathroom, Mavelle was already hurrying back down the hallway toward him. Her mind felt like a cooking pot, bubbling and churning, nearly overflowing with the plans she’d just made and the questions she still wanted to ask her guest. All these years, she’d pined for novelty, challenge, and stimulation, assuming that they could only be found in adventures like the ones that her brother told her about. But talking to Railtus had made her realize that the clash of ideas could prove even more exciting than the clash of swords.

But even while so many new thoughts vied for Mavelle’s attention, the sight of Railtus, resplendent in his fresh clothes and clean armor, stopped her in her tracks. Certainly, he’d been handsome before. But now he was a rough gem that someone had polished, cut, and placed in a magnificent setting. How she wanted to make that gem hers alone! How she wanted to string it on a silver chain and wear it like a pendant, so that others might envy her for her possession of it. How she wanted to feel its touch against the tender skin just above the curve of her breasts.

For a moment, Mavelle could make no sound other than a soft sigh of desire. Then, she shook loose from her trance, and approached Railtus with her customary smile. “I’ve arranged for lunch to be served to us in the garden. The dining hall is far too stuffy for such a lovely day. Also, I sent word to my father, so he can join us when he’s able.”

Again, Mavelle raised her arm. There was nothing demanding about the gesture. But it was also not as subtle as the last time she’d made the overture. “In the meantime, I believe we have a misunderstanding to sort out. You agree with me that the world is full of people who need help. And surely you must agree that it’s impossible for someone, even someone like you, to help all of them all at once.” She was not mocking him, simply stating a fact. “So you choose where to focus your efforts. As do I. My choice is based on returning something to people who have already given something important to me. What is you choice based on?”

[Sir Karsimir]

A search would be unnecessary. Mavelle had pounced as soon as the door had opened. Something stopped her before the pounce had reached him, then she began to approach more easily. Her smile... was deliberate, for that he could not know how genuine.

Making a conscious effort, Railtus chose not to dwell on it.

Instead of linking the offered arm, Railtus did something different, and clasped the hand in his. At first, he lifted the hand, meaning to raise it to his lips, but Mavelle was already speaking and that was entitled to his full attention. He kept the hand clasped as she spoke. 'Misunderstanding,' that was an interesting term, one which gave Railtus an opportunity to file for future reference. 'Twas an interesting argument. One which he did not believe for a moment but interesting nontheless.

Rather than opening with a counter-argument of his own, Railtus thought it best to begin by answering the question. "Where there is need." While that may have been answer enough, Mavelle was clearly interested in discussion and there was also some hope of convincing her.

"Ask yourself of the life you have known. To have always been fed, and clothed, and sheltered. To have a father pay for your education. To have had access to the best doctors. You are indeed very fortunate for that, as was I. What of those in need of food, clothes and shelter? The daughter whose father does not, cannot, pay for her education. Or when sick, does not recieve a doctor. What of them?"

"My life, too, has been one of priviledge. I am a warrior, having recieved nine years of training before I ever had need to wield a sword. I am strong, I have always eaten well. What if another was born to my parents? Would they have the strength I do now?" The encounter with the garrison-captain stood out to him when he said that, but it was not he that was suffering at the time. "I have known great fortune, and through that fortune, it is within my power to act when others are powerless to fight for themselves. I am no better than any other, only more fortunate. When I have known such plenty, and others, with equal right to it, starve and fear, how do I have any right to do different?" Already he could feel his heart flowing into his speech, and know that he is moving beyond ordinary conversation.

"You are right that it is beyond my power to bring a perfect world, but to try, would that not bring a better world for my efforts? Better than the world that is? Perhaps through my aid, another will find the strength that I have now, remember the good done him, and use his strength to aid others." There was more he could say, much more. One truth stood out above all others.

"I speak of a dream. A dream that is already growing. That dream is called the Order of Ydren's Spear."

[Falcon Bertille]

At first, Mavelle felt dismayed when Railtus ignored her offer to link arms. But then he clasped her hand, and that was even better, indicating a satisfactory progression of intimacy. Mavelle’s smile grew even brighter. Lacing her fingers with Railtus’s, she gave his hand an encouraging squeeze, before beginning to lead him toward the garden.

While Railtus spoke about the plight of the less fortunate, Mavelle listened intently, as moved by the passion in his voice as by his actual words. Certainly, she’d always understood that there were people who didn’t enjoy the same advantages that she had. Who else would be servants? She even knew, although she’d never met one, that there were people even worse off than servants, people like beggars. But when she spoke to her father about it, he always insisted that people created their own lots in life. Of course, the son of a shoemaker would never be a lord, no matter how hard he worked, but if he was resourceful and diligent, he would never want for any necessities. Those who fell into true poverty were there because they were lazy, or because they were slaves to some draining addiction. The idea that they might be much like her...except unlucky...was new territory for Mavelle.

Just as when Railtus made his point about the realities of battle, Mavelle felt a weight press down on her heart. How sad the world was! Full of so much more grief and suffering than she’d ever imagined. But again, the realization was too vast, too foreign, and too little had been done to prepare her immature emotions. Mavelle simply couldn’t hold onto it. In time, in small ways, it would return to her, slowly seeping into the cracks Railtus had opened. However, on that afternoon, as she stepped out into the garden, the sunlight dissipated her gloom as if it had been nothing more than a temporary fog.

“I agree that need should be considered. But can you judge by need alone?” Unable to truly grasp the depth of Railtus’s argument, unable to truly experience the emotions which inflamed his heart, Mavelle could only view their conversation as a lively debate. A sort of puzzle to be solved. And her ever-curious mind loved puzzles. She didn’t even care if she won, just so long as she was properly challenged.

Walking down a stone path, she and Railtus passed beneath a trellis covered with vines whose purple blossoms hung down like clusters of grapes. “Consider the bandits who attacked you. Perhaps starvation and fear drove them to take such desperate measures. Are you obliged to help them? Or are you more obliged to help the merchant they try to rob, even if his need is less?”

[Sir Karsimir]

At times like this, it did well to remember that Mavelle really did not know what she was talking about. Through that memory, Railtus managed to stave off most of the offence.

"I cannot, and do not." was the answer to her first question, in a voice more stony than intended. With conscious effort, he softened his voice next. "As important are protecting the innocent and opposing evil. Need will always be great so long as evil thrives. Should events ever appear otherwise, then the dilemma is not moral but practical."

Hesitantly, he resumed his grip on Mavelle's hand, suddenly aware that it had slackened in his urge to pull away. Even with that effort, the grasp was less affectionate.

"As for those bandits, they were evil." Railtus stated with the purest of certainty, as though aware of some evidence others did not have. "They were not starving men, I am sure. I have seen the difference. They were well-armed, some even armoured. They were committed to theft and murder." Of course, Railtus had borne witness to their evil directly, but to others without such perception this was hardly the most convincing of evidence. "They made a choice to kill and pillage, to take from the suffering of others. Banditry is not the act of desperation. It is the act greed, of cowardice and misguided vengeance. One which always hurts the wrong people."

"So what of the merchant's need?" he asked rhetorically with a shrug, as if it did not matter. "When a merchant gets his throat cut on the road," he stopped the detail there, a kindness to Mavelle, "and his goods do not reach their destination, then what happens to the people depending upon the trade coming in? The blacksmith who depends upon the next iron shipment to work his goods, how will he feed his family? That is among the harm done."

Fixing his eyes on hers, Railtus waited to see how seriously this was being taken. Such a light tone did not sit well with him on such a serious matter.