Mavelle’s eyes filled with tears of disbelief and horror. How could this be happening? Her lover had just challenged her brother to a duel. If Phelan accepted -- which he surely would, since he never backed down from matters of honor -- then one or both of them might die. The two people she’d so hoped to see fight side by side were about to become enemies. Something needed stop this madness! How could she ever give her love to Railtus if he killed her brother? How could she ever forgive her brother if he killed the man she loved?
Searching for someone who might listen to reason, Mavelle looked at Phelan. But his attention was fixed on Railtus. And Railtus hadn’t so much as glanced at her since she entered the kitchen. That just left one hope. As Mavelle caught the manservant’s eyes, she remembered earlier, when she’d been disappointed that his gaze held only friendliness, rather than passion or desire. Now, that same friendliness was the most welcome thing in the world to her.
“Stop this,” she begged. “Someone...please...stop this.”
Sympathy touched Julen as he watched Mavelle. The way that her troubled gaze darted between the two adversaries spoke volumes about her feelings for both men. It wasn’t hard to guess some of what must have transpired while she was extending her House’s hospitality to Railtus. And it wasn’t hard to imagine how she’d suffer if either he or her brother was seriously wounded.
Julen appreciated Railtus’s intercession. He appreciated the faith his friend had displayed in him, leaping to his defense even when he’d tried to shoulder the blame for what had happened. Most especially, he appreciated Railtus’s willingness to risk his life by challenging the most skilled swordsman around, just to spare him from a flogging. But this had gone far enough.
“No.” Julen’s voice was quiet but firm as he abandoned his sheltered position and moved to stand beside Railtus. “This time, there’s no innocent party to protect. While it’s true that Lord Phelan insinuated that I had fleas, called my wife a strumpet, and tried to take her locket from me, it’s also true that I did challenge, insult, and then strike him. I lost my temper when I should not have. And if he feels the need to flog me, then let him do so, and put an end to it. No one,” his eyes flicked to Mavelle, giving her his promise. “No one is going to die because of such petty things.”
Then, before Railtus could protest, Julen addressed him directly, with the same understated stubbornness that he’d shown during their argument about who would sleep in Julen’s bed. “I know this isn’t how you’d have things turn out. But if you truly never kept a servant, prove it by respecting my wishes.”
Sensing a possible turning of the tide, Mavelle rushed over to her brother, clutching his arm. “Please, Phelan! Let this pass. I can’t...I can’t tell you why, not right now. But you mustn’t fight Railtus. If you love your little sister, please say that you won’t.”
Family Affairs
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Sir Karsimir
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Wrath burned deep within Railtus, sending wisps of fury coiling through the air. A vengeful heat poured off him as he was denied the chance to strike a blow deep into evil's heart. Julen had disappointed Railtus, not for insulting Phelan, not for striking him, by everything Railtus had heard these were cause for reward. No, he was disappointed in him for now yielding to the villain. That was never the way.
Aware of Julen stepping out from the shelter of the warrior, Phelan considered a cheap shot against the unprotected farmer. Changing his mind was a man with a prayer on his lips and in his heart, a prayer that Phelan would make the wrong move... please.
"Silenced by a servant!" Phelan jeered at Railtus, with whooping joy. "Now that the matter has been decided for you I guess I will take my right and be done." A smugness took place in that seeming victory.
"Raise a hand to him and you will never use that arm again I swear." vowed Railtus in a voice like death itself. Whether merely shattering the limb or an amputation at the shoulder, little doubt was left that the man would be thorough.
Seeing his integrity as a target, Phelan decided to strike against that. "You would allow this man to so abuse this House?"
"Theft." stated Railtus, referring to Phelan's efforts to steal the locket. "You have sought to do theft. I will not dishonour the Anstrun name by supporting your crimes."
"I could kill you on the first pass." gloated Phelan, stepping closer, "Thank my sister for saving your life." Now much closer. With that, Phelan spat full in the face of Railtus, smirking broadly at both Railtus and Julen and holding it for moments as if daring either one to react. Then he stormed out the door, confident that Mavelle did not see the spitting or the grin from her angle of behind him.
More concerned with the state of Julen, Railtus did not think to wipe the spittle from his face.
Aware of Julen stepping out from the shelter of the warrior, Phelan considered a cheap shot against the unprotected farmer. Changing his mind was a man with a prayer on his lips and in his heart, a prayer that Phelan would make the wrong move... please.
"Silenced by a servant!" Phelan jeered at Railtus, with whooping joy. "Now that the matter has been decided for you I guess I will take my right and be done." A smugness took place in that seeming victory.
"Raise a hand to him and you will never use that arm again I swear." vowed Railtus in a voice like death itself. Whether merely shattering the limb or an amputation at the shoulder, little doubt was left that the man would be thorough.
Seeing his integrity as a target, Phelan decided to strike against that. "You would allow this man to so abuse this House?"
"Theft." stated Railtus, referring to Phelan's efforts to steal the locket. "You have sought to do theft. I will not dishonour the Anstrun name by supporting your crimes."
"I could kill you on the first pass." gloated Phelan, stepping closer, "Thank my sister for saving your life." Now much closer. With that, Phelan spat full in the face of Railtus, smirking broadly at both Railtus and Julen and holding it for moments as if daring either one to react. Then he stormed out the door, confident that Mavelle did not see the spitting or the grin from her angle of behind him.
More concerned with the state of Julen, Railtus did not think to wipe the spittle from his face.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
When Phelan spat on Railtus, Julen’s breath caught in his throat. He was sure that Railtus would draw his sword and take off Phelan’s head with one graceful sweep. But Railtus held himself in check. Now it was Julen who wanted to make Phelan swallow that sneer, and maybe a few teeth as well. To see his friend, who he knew to be so honorable, defiled like that, and to be partially responsible for it…Julen would rather have endured the flogging. But he was the one who had insisted on a peaceful settlement, so he had no choice but to stand there in silence as Phelan strutted out of the kitchen.
As soon as the noble was gone, Julen laid his hand on Railtus’s arm. He knew that Railtus’s armor would prevent his touch from being felt. But, somehow, he still believed the gesture needed to be made. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, desperately wanting to reach up and wipe the spittle away, to erase all memory of it ever having been there. But to do so seemed too presumptuous. Julen still couldn’t forget the transformation he’d seen in Railtus, the way that divine vengeance had seemed to radiate from his body like inner fire. Who dared to brush their shirt sleeve against the face of an angel? Even for the best of reasons?
“Are you alright?”
Meanwhile, Mavelle had slumped back against one of the kitchen walls, needing its stone support to keep her upright as she struggled to reassemble her world. She hadn’t seen the spitting or the sneer. But other things bothered her, things about the scene she’d just witnessed that didn’t make sense. Some details, like that the fact that the manservant was bleeding while her brother hadn’t borne any visible mark, could be explained away. After all, there were plenty of ways to hit a person without leaving obvious evidence. And yet, there were more troublesome pieces. Phelan hadn’t denied trying to snatch the locket -- not when the manservant mentioned it, and not when Railtus charged him with theft. Why wouldn’t he? Was the accusation so absurd that he felt it wasn’t worth answering? But if it was so absurd…why was the manservant standing there with a broken necklace chain in his hand?
Most worrisome of all was the hatred Railtus seemed to feel toward her brother. During the short time Mavelle had known Railtus, she’d found him to be gentle, slow to anger and quick to forgive. What about Phelan had made him become such a different person?
As soon as the noble was gone, Julen laid his hand on Railtus’s arm. He knew that Railtus’s armor would prevent his touch from being felt. But, somehow, he still believed the gesture needed to be made. “I’m sorry,” he apologized, desperately wanting to reach up and wipe the spittle away, to erase all memory of it ever having been there. But to do so seemed too presumptuous. Julen still couldn’t forget the transformation he’d seen in Railtus, the way that divine vengeance had seemed to radiate from his body like inner fire. Who dared to brush their shirt sleeve against the face of an angel? Even for the best of reasons?
“Are you alright?”
Meanwhile, Mavelle had slumped back against one of the kitchen walls, needing its stone support to keep her upright as she struggled to reassemble her world. She hadn’t seen the spitting or the sneer. But other things bothered her, things about the scene she’d just witnessed that didn’t make sense. Some details, like that the fact that the manservant was bleeding while her brother hadn’t borne any visible mark, could be explained away. After all, there were plenty of ways to hit a person without leaving obvious evidence. And yet, there were more troublesome pieces. Phelan hadn’t denied trying to snatch the locket -- not when the manservant mentioned it, and not when Railtus charged him with theft. Why wouldn’t he? Was the accusation so absurd that he felt it wasn’t worth answering? But if it was so absurd…why was the manservant standing there with a broken necklace chain in his hand?
Most worrisome of all was the hatred Railtus seemed to feel toward her brother. During the short time Mavelle had known Railtus, she’d found him to be gentle, slow to anger and quick to forgive. What about Phelan had made him become such a different person?
Last edited by Julen on Fri Mar 09, 2007 10:06 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Sir Karsimir
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With what armour Railtus was wearing, he could clearly feel the hand on his arm. Before, when he changed, the new outfit provided for him did not include a fresh gamberson, so most of his sleeve was merely a tunic. Something which would have been inconvenient if that had came to a fight.
Seamlessly, Railtus turned to face Julen with a concerned look, giving no answer to the question asked of him. It was as if he did not care about his own treatment by Phelan. Somehow, the care on his face was no change from the incarnate force of retribution so obvious just recently, as if he never stopped being the caring soul he was before he had that confrontation with Phelan.
Which in turn implied that during all the kindness and understanding that had been shown he was always this terrible and righteous being.
Part of why Railtus did not answer Julen's question was that he was incapable of sparing thought to such a thing at that moment. Even were he to somehow force himself to dwell on it, he could not conceive of an answer, or the notion that it held any relevance while there were others at hand who may be in need.
Such a trivial notion as his own welfare did not occur to him.
"I'll heal any injuries you have in a moment," Railtus stated matter-of-factly, as though doing so was that easy. "First I am worried for Mavelle."
One glance told him that hers was the greater need. Swiftly, he rushed towards her and slid his free arm under hers to better support her. Using his strength to keep her upright, he whispered softly to Mavelle, "Lean on me." The arm supporting her hesitantly began to curl around her under her own arm, a gesture comforting more than any other meaning.
By now, the servants were confident that Phelan had left beyond earshot, and suddenly burst into applause.
Seamlessly, Railtus turned to face Julen with a concerned look, giving no answer to the question asked of him. It was as if he did not care about his own treatment by Phelan. Somehow, the care on his face was no change from the incarnate force of retribution so obvious just recently, as if he never stopped being the caring soul he was before he had that confrontation with Phelan.
Which in turn implied that during all the kindness and understanding that had been shown he was always this terrible and righteous being.
Part of why Railtus did not answer Julen's question was that he was incapable of sparing thought to such a thing at that moment. Even were he to somehow force himself to dwell on it, he could not conceive of an answer, or the notion that it held any relevance while there were others at hand who may be in need.
Such a trivial notion as his own welfare did not occur to him.
"I'll heal any injuries you have in a moment," Railtus stated matter-of-factly, as though doing so was that easy. "First I am worried for Mavelle."
One glance told him that hers was the greater need. Swiftly, he rushed towards her and slid his free arm under hers to better support her. Using his strength to keep her upright, he whispered softly to Mavelle, "Lean on me." The arm supporting her hesitantly began to curl around her under her own arm, a gesture comforting more than any other meaning.
By now, the servants were confident that Phelan had left beyond earshot, and suddenly burst into applause.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen’s eyes widened when Railtus mentioned healing his injuries. Surely he wasn’t talking about...? No, of course not. He only meant washing out the scrapes, perhaps applying some sort of ointment or bandages. That was all.
Since Julen agreed that Mavelle did indeed require immediate attention, he made no protest as Railtus rushed to her side. Observing the two of them together -- Railtus tall and strong as an oak tree, and Mavelle clinging to him like a flowering vine growing up the tree’s trunk -- confirmed Julen’s guess about the feelings they were obviously beginning to develop for each other. And also made it clear that Railtus didn’t need any help comforting her. Which was just as well, because there was someone else Julen needed to speak with before they left. Ignoring the applause as much as politeness allowed, he made his way through the cheering servants, until he reached the girl with dark hair.
When Railtus first turned toward her, Mavelle experienced an involuntary flash of fear. She was so afraid that he would look at her with the same murderous hatred he’d lavished on her brother. But his eyes only held gentleness and concern. Relieved, Mavelle barely let Railtus finish his offer of support before she hurled her arms around him, holding on for dear life.
“I don’t understand anything anymore,” she confessed in a trembling voice. “My brother is a great warrior. Why would he pick a fight with an unarmed man? Each of the rings he wears is worth a small fortune. Why would he try to steal a servant’s cheap trinket? He saw that your friend was willing to take a beating to prevent either of you coming to harm. Why would he still...why would he still want to...?” Mavelle shuddered. And, for the first time in Railtus’s embrace, it wasn’t due to pleasure. After the way he’d helped her, the thought of Railtus’s manservant being stripped, and struck with the horse-rod until his back was a mass of bruises and welts, was horrible.
“I don’t understand anything...I don’t...” At that moment, even words became too much, and Mavelle broke down sobbing.
Since Julen agreed that Mavelle did indeed require immediate attention, he made no protest as Railtus rushed to her side. Observing the two of them together -- Railtus tall and strong as an oak tree, and Mavelle clinging to him like a flowering vine growing up the tree’s trunk -- confirmed Julen’s guess about the feelings they were obviously beginning to develop for each other. And also made it clear that Railtus didn’t need any help comforting her. Which was just as well, because there was someone else Julen needed to speak with before they left. Ignoring the applause as much as politeness allowed, he made his way through the cheering servants, until he reached the girl with dark hair.
When Railtus first turned toward her, Mavelle experienced an involuntary flash of fear. She was so afraid that he would look at her with the same murderous hatred he’d lavished on her brother. But his eyes only held gentleness and concern. Relieved, Mavelle barely let Railtus finish his offer of support before she hurled her arms around him, holding on for dear life.
“I don’t understand anything anymore,” she confessed in a trembling voice. “My brother is a great warrior. Why would he pick a fight with an unarmed man? Each of the rings he wears is worth a small fortune. Why would he try to steal a servant’s cheap trinket? He saw that your friend was willing to take a beating to prevent either of you coming to harm. Why would he still...why would he still want to...?” Mavelle shuddered. And, for the first time in Railtus’s embrace, it wasn’t due to pleasure. After the way he’d helped her, the thought of Railtus’s manservant being stripped, and struck with the horse-rod until his back was a mass of bruises and welts, was horrible.
“I don’t understand anything...I don’t...” At that moment, even words became too much, and Mavelle broke down sobbing.
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Sir Karsimir
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Reaching his arm further around Mavelle, Railtus raised the hand and wiped the spittle from his face. For him it was unimportant, just another meaningless example of Phelan's basity. Though with Mavelle seeking solace in his embrace, the last thing Railtus would want was for that coward's slime to touch her, even indirectly.
Wiping the disgusting insult from his nose, Railtus kept that hand closed tight, holding Mavelle with the curve of his arm and not the hand itself. He wanted to wash that hand, and his face for good measure, before touching another human being.
Now more than ever his heart reached out to her. A deep sympathy. Such a bond Railtus could not understand, he was always distant with his family, but as was being demonstrated at this moment Mavelle would not approve of Phelan's cruelty.
"No reason either you or I would accept." Railtus answered, quite truthfully. Hearing the story behind Phelan's grudge with Julen would not help her. Answers were not the goal, comfort was. What most needed understanding was the mindset, that Phelan could take triumph and victory in making others suffer, in the notion that others could not fight back. A meaningless and petty exertion of power. That, and the sense of vengeance needed for defeat, defeat from Rosemary's refusal, heightened by the fact that she had found a good man who made her happy and that she choosed him over the great Phelan Anstrun.
The simple answer was because Phelan was evil - Railtus sensed it through the wall. Not an answer Mavelle would appreciate. Hearing the applause from the servants was a good indication as to their opinions.
In a perverse way, Railtus sensed an opportunity to show something to Mavelle, cause to challenge a belief that desperately needed challenging. "It happens when nobles believe they are better than other people. They see the mistreatment of others as their right." Hopefully Mavelle would now know to be wary of such a thing, having witnessed the horror with her own eyes.
Keeping his free arm wrapped around her, Railtus fumbled with his shield, trying to wriggle it loose so that he could safely embrace Mavelle fully. It was probably a rediculous sight, Railtus did not care.
The dark-haired servant curtseyed as Julen approached, saying nothing. Worry and embarassment were etched onto her face. After a moments thought, she held her eyes downcast, as though Julen was a lord himself. He had certainly proved himself their match on this day.
Wiping the disgusting insult from his nose, Railtus kept that hand closed tight, holding Mavelle with the curve of his arm and not the hand itself. He wanted to wash that hand, and his face for good measure, before touching another human being.
Now more than ever his heart reached out to her. A deep sympathy. Such a bond Railtus could not understand, he was always distant with his family, but as was being demonstrated at this moment Mavelle would not approve of Phelan's cruelty.
"No reason either you or I would accept." Railtus answered, quite truthfully. Hearing the story behind Phelan's grudge with Julen would not help her. Answers were not the goal, comfort was. What most needed understanding was the mindset, that Phelan could take triumph and victory in making others suffer, in the notion that others could not fight back. A meaningless and petty exertion of power. That, and the sense of vengeance needed for defeat, defeat from Rosemary's refusal, heightened by the fact that she had found a good man who made her happy and that she choosed him over the great Phelan Anstrun.
The simple answer was because Phelan was evil - Railtus sensed it through the wall. Not an answer Mavelle would appreciate. Hearing the applause from the servants was a good indication as to their opinions.
In a perverse way, Railtus sensed an opportunity to show something to Mavelle, cause to challenge a belief that desperately needed challenging. "It happens when nobles believe they are better than other people. They see the mistreatment of others as their right." Hopefully Mavelle would now know to be wary of such a thing, having witnessed the horror with her own eyes.
Keeping his free arm wrapped around her, Railtus fumbled with his shield, trying to wriggle it loose so that he could safely embrace Mavelle fully. It was probably a rediculous sight, Railtus did not care.
The dark-haired servant curtseyed as Julen approached, saying nothing. Worry and embarassment were etched onto her face. After a moments thought, she held her eyes downcast, as though Julen was a lord himself. He had certainly proved himself their match on this day.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen smiled at the dark-haired girl, although her downcast eyes kept her from seeing it. “Thank you. It took great courage to speak out on my behalf and I am in you debt. Yet, even if I weren’t, I would still feel obliged to talk with you about Phelan.”
“I’m sure that he seems very glamorous to you. And I’m sure that you find his attentions very flattering. Rosemary must have felt flattered, too. At first. But now you’ve seen how he speaks of those he once courted. If can say those things about a woman as fine as Rosemary, he can say them about anyone.”
Hesitating, Julen searched for words. He didn’t want to lecture the poor girl. But she needed to understand. And as he struggled to think of something convincing to say, he once more became aware of the cool metal resting in the palm of his hand. Tightening his grip on the locket, Julen could almost see Rosemary standing beside him, looking at him with wise eyes. He knew what she wanted him to do. The locket, even the strand of hair inside it -- those were just things. She would still be with him even if they were burned to ash and scattered on the four winds. But perhaps they could inspire bravery in someone who needed it more than he did.
“The woman who gave me this,” Julen explained, holding up the locket, “was once in your position. She found the strength end it.”
Gently, Julen lifted the girl’s hand and pressed the locket into it. “Don’t let him see it. I think we can both guess what will happen if he ever sees it. But keep it. Remember Rosemary. Remember that you’re not alone. And if you ever need to leave this place, come to Shim, ask someone to take you to Julen’s farm. I probably won’t be there.” A pang of homesickness struck Julen as he said that. His situation had drastically improved, but unless Railtus wanted to earn his knighthood by chasing foxes away from chickens, it would still be a long while before Julen again stood on his own land. “But Rosemary is running the farm alone, so I’m sure she could use help. Tell her your story. I think you’ll find her most sympathetic.”
Oblivious to anything else around her, Mavelle pressed her face against Railtus’s breastplate. Distantly, in some part of her mind still capable of thinking about such things, she hoped her tears wouldn’t make it rust.
“But I’d never...never...” Railtus’s statement about nobles believing themselves better than other people had struck a chord. Mavelle took it for granted that she was better than servants. They were like children, or particularly clever animals, taught to do tricks that aided and amused her. But she’d never harm one, just as she’d never torture a kitten. In fact, she was rather sweet with her favorites, giving them the flamboyant pieces of jewelry that unobservant suitors sometimes presented to her. And Phelan...Phelan was kind, too, wasn’t he? With the pretty ones, at least. The pretty ones who always seemed to vanish soon after he lost interest in them...
Reluctantly abandoning Railtus’s embrace, Mavelle wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, and mustered as much dignity as her frazzled state allowed. She would talk with Phelan later to hear his side of the story. But now, there was something she needed to set right. “Your friend. He helped me. And I...I want to know his name. I think he deserves at least that much.”
“I’m sure that he seems very glamorous to you. And I’m sure that you find his attentions very flattering. Rosemary must have felt flattered, too. At first. But now you’ve seen how he speaks of those he once courted. If can say those things about a woman as fine as Rosemary, he can say them about anyone.”
Hesitating, Julen searched for words. He didn’t want to lecture the poor girl. But she needed to understand. And as he struggled to think of something convincing to say, he once more became aware of the cool metal resting in the palm of his hand. Tightening his grip on the locket, Julen could almost see Rosemary standing beside him, looking at him with wise eyes. He knew what she wanted him to do. The locket, even the strand of hair inside it -- those were just things. She would still be with him even if they were burned to ash and scattered on the four winds. But perhaps they could inspire bravery in someone who needed it more than he did.
“The woman who gave me this,” Julen explained, holding up the locket, “was once in your position. She found the strength end it.”
Gently, Julen lifted the girl’s hand and pressed the locket into it. “Don’t let him see it. I think we can both guess what will happen if he ever sees it. But keep it. Remember Rosemary. Remember that you’re not alone. And if you ever need to leave this place, come to Shim, ask someone to take you to Julen’s farm. I probably won’t be there.” A pang of homesickness struck Julen as he said that. His situation had drastically improved, but unless Railtus wanted to earn his knighthood by chasing foxes away from chickens, it would still be a long while before Julen again stood on his own land. “But Rosemary is running the farm alone, so I’m sure she could use help. Tell her your story. I think you’ll find her most sympathetic.”
Oblivious to anything else around her, Mavelle pressed her face against Railtus’s breastplate. Distantly, in some part of her mind still capable of thinking about such things, she hoped her tears wouldn’t make it rust.
“But I’d never...never...” Railtus’s statement about nobles believing themselves better than other people had struck a chord. Mavelle took it for granted that she was better than servants. They were like children, or particularly clever animals, taught to do tricks that aided and amused her. But she’d never harm one, just as she’d never torture a kitten. In fact, she was rather sweet with her favorites, giving them the flamboyant pieces of jewelry that unobservant suitors sometimes presented to her. And Phelan...Phelan was kind, too, wasn’t he? With the pretty ones, at least. The pretty ones who always seemed to vanish soon after he lost interest in them...
Reluctantly abandoning Railtus’s embrace, Mavelle wiped her eyes with the sleeve of her dress, and mustered as much dignity as her frazzled state allowed. She would talk with Phelan later to hear his side of the story. But now, there was something she needed to set right. “Your friend. He helped me. And I...I want to know his name. I think he deserves at least that much.”
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Sir Karsimir
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Raising her eyes, the young woman shook her head sadly. "I don't want to fear him finding it. You have given me hope, and somewhere to go. I thought... that for a nobleman to like me, he made me feel like I was more than another conquest. I thought..." Again her eyes dropped, this time in remembered sorrow. "Rosemary must be very special, and very lucky, for you to defend her like that. I'm Shantay." Once more Shantay raised her eyes and smiled faintly.
"I know I can look for your farm in Shim." Shantay stated with new strength, and new joy in her smile. "And I know to trust your friend... Railtus?" In the chaos before, she had only half-caught the name.
Cream skin glowed palely like moonlight, then her smile took a new joy to it. "Thank you, Julen. Without you, I would have been like all the others." Single mothers were not the most fortunate people in Marn.
With Mavelle in his arms, Railtus listened and waited, allowing her to come to terms at her own pace. Her protests were obvious, he knew full well that she did not have any cruelty in her. Once she let go of Railtus, he went back to wiping his face with his free hand, feeling restricted by the presence of any lingering spittle.
Such a request was quite sweet, and showed that she was actually accepting hard truths. In that instant, his respect for her climbed in great bounds. Still, wry amusement showed in the answer. "Go, and, ask, him." Mirth flashing in emerald eyes. A moment later, he was serious again. "I was careful not to use his name because I did not want to disturb Phelan with the reminder of his past failures. I would appreciate anything you learn not reaching him, because if Phelan knows where to find him," Railtus cast a nod towards Julen, "it will end in at least one corpse, and probably mine as well. Thank you."
Leaving Mavelle to go and do that, Railtus turned to the assorted kitchen staff, finally shedding his shield. "Any water? I would really like to wash my face and hands after what just happened."
"I know I can look for your farm in Shim." Shantay stated with new strength, and new joy in her smile. "And I know to trust your friend... Railtus?" In the chaos before, she had only half-caught the name.
Cream skin glowed palely like moonlight, then her smile took a new joy to it. "Thank you, Julen. Without you, I would have been like all the others." Single mothers were not the most fortunate people in Marn.
With Mavelle in his arms, Railtus listened and waited, allowing her to come to terms at her own pace. Her protests were obvious, he knew full well that she did not have any cruelty in her. Once she let go of Railtus, he went back to wiping his face with his free hand, feeling restricted by the presence of any lingering spittle.
Such a request was quite sweet, and showed that she was actually accepting hard truths. In that instant, his respect for her climbed in great bounds. Still, wry amusement showed in the answer. "Go, and, ask, him." Mirth flashing in emerald eyes. A moment later, he was serious again. "I was careful not to use his name because I did not want to disturb Phelan with the reminder of his past failures. I would appreciate anything you learn not reaching him, because if Phelan knows where to find him," Railtus cast a nod towards Julen, "it will end in at least one corpse, and probably mine as well. Thank you."
Leaving Mavelle to go and do that, Railtus turned to the assorted kitchen staff, finally shedding his shield. "Any water? I would really like to wash my face and hands after what just happened."
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
Julen nodded his understanding when Shantay handed the locket back to him. The last thing he wanted to do was give her one more reason to fear Phelan. Of course, no similar fear on Julen’s part would keep him from wearing the necklace, as soon as he got the chain fixed. With any luck, he would never see Phelan again. And if he did, and Phelan had any objections, well, Julen sincerely hoped that the noble choked on them.
For the moment, however, he dropped the broken locket into a pouch tied to his belt, which also contained the dirt from his farm in back Shim.
“Yes, Railtus,” Julen hastily confirmed, when Shantay mentioned the name. He felt guilty for omitting his friend from the list of Shantay’s possible allies, although no glory hogging had been intended. “You can trust him more than any other man I’ve met. And I think...” Julen smiled as he cast another glance at Railtus and Mavelle. “I think he’s going to be around here rather frequently if you ever need him.”
In honor of the curtsey Shantay had given him when he first approached, Julen bowed to her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Shantay. I hope to see you again.”
By then, another member of the kitchen staff had brought Railtus a bowl, a pitcher of water, and a towel. Intending to wash the blood from his face, Julen started over toward his friend. But, before he could join Railtus, he found Mavelle blocking his path.
“Your Ladyship?”
“I do not believe that my brother would hunt you down and commit murder,” Mavelle announced, as if Julen had ever suggested such a thing. Bemused, Julen raised his eyebrow. But before he could ask why she’d felt like sharing that particular bit of family insight, she continued. “However, until today, I would have been equally sure that he wouldn’t steal. So I’ll trust Railtus’s judgment in this. Rest assured that whatever you tell me, I will not pass it on to Phelan.”
“Um...alright,” Julen agreed.
A sigh pushed past Mavelle’s lips. “I’m making a mess of this, like I knew I would. I wish he could have just told me your name.” Glancing over her shoulder, Mavelle gave Railtus a reproachful look. Then, returning her attention to Julen, she drew a deep breath. “You helped me. You didn’t have to. You risked getting beaten to do it. And I...I feel that I should know the name of the man to whom I owe my thanks.”
Julen’s confusion transformed into pleasure. There was something undeniably charming about Mavelle, even when she was being awkward. “My name is Julen, M’lady. And your thanks, while appreciated, are not owed. I didn’t want to see those two go at it any more than you did.”
For the moment, however, he dropped the broken locket into a pouch tied to his belt, which also contained the dirt from his farm in back Shim.
“Yes, Railtus,” Julen hastily confirmed, when Shantay mentioned the name. He felt guilty for omitting his friend from the list of Shantay’s possible allies, although no glory hogging had been intended. “You can trust him more than any other man I’ve met. And I think...” Julen smiled as he cast another glance at Railtus and Mavelle. “I think he’s going to be around here rather frequently if you ever need him.”
In honor of the curtsey Shantay had given him when he first approached, Julen bowed to her. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Shantay. I hope to see you again.”
By then, another member of the kitchen staff had brought Railtus a bowl, a pitcher of water, and a towel. Intending to wash the blood from his face, Julen started over toward his friend. But, before he could join Railtus, he found Mavelle blocking his path.
“Your Ladyship?”
“I do not believe that my brother would hunt you down and commit murder,” Mavelle announced, as if Julen had ever suggested such a thing. Bemused, Julen raised his eyebrow. But before he could ask why she’d felt like sharing that particular bit of family insight, she continued. “However, until today, I would have been equally sure that he wouldn’t steal. So I’ll trust Railtus’s judgment in this. Rest assured that whatever you tell me, I will not pass it on to Phelan.”
“Um...alright,” Julen agreed.
A sigh pushed past Mavelle’s lips. “I’m making a mess of this, like I knew I would. I wish he could have just told me your name.” Glancing over her shoulder, Mavelle gave Railtus a reproachful look. Then, returning her attention to Julen, she drew a deep breath. “You helped me. You didn’t have to. You risked getting beaten to do it. And I...I feel that I should know the name of the man to whom I owe my thanks.”
Julen’s confusion transformed into pleasure. There was something undeniably charming about Mavelle, even when she was being awkward. “My name is Julen, M’lady. And your thanks, while appreciated, are not owed. I didn’t want to see those two go at it any more than you did.”
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
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Gratefully accepting the water, Railtus quickly spoke his thanks to the one bringing it, and began scrubbing at his hands and face. Cupping his hands to lift the water, he ran them over his face, soaking it. Then he took an edge of the towl and dried off. At least he felt willing to shake hands or interact properly again.
Watching the exchange between Julen and Mavelle was fairly entertaining, since Mavelle was still getting past the awkwardness of speaking to a 'servant' as if an equal.
With that necessary step out of the way, Railtus approached the woman Julen had spoken to. While he could not give his full attention, he observed that Julen was very concerned about the young lady, and at the very least Railtus wanted to establish himself as welcoming and approachable.
"What is your name?" he asked, now-gauntleted hand extended.
"Shantay, m'lord."
"I am no one's lord, my lady. Will you be well?"
Shantay noticed the inconsistancy of Railtus denying his own station and in the same breath addressing her as lady. It actually amused her somewhat. "Yes, thank you." Shantay answered, glad for the touch of humour.
"If you ever have a need you know where to find me, right?" asked Railtus.
Shantay gave a faint nod. This was all too much for her. Witnessing Phelan's true nature was shock enough, but the sudden kindness of these two strangers was almost more than she could believe.
Sure that he had done all he could here just now, Railtus picked up his shield, then looked over Mavelle to call to Julen.
"Come with me when you get chance. I want to take a look at your cuts, and then we have a few more trips for the day." With that, Railtus nodded his ackowledgement to the collective kitchen staff, shook the hand of Shantay, swiftly kissing the hand in his usual manner, then made his way towards Mavelle.
"I'll be back later. Farewell for now." With that, he took her hand and kissed it, less swiftly than with Shantay... and stepped from the kitchen to the courtyard.
Watching the exchange between Julen and Mavelle was fairly entertaining, since Mavelle was still getting past the awkwardness of speaking to a 'servant' as if an equal.
With that necessary step out of the way, Railtus approached the woman Julen had spoken to. While he could not give his full attention, he observed that Julen was very concerned about the young lady, and at the very least Railtus wanted to establish himself as welcoming and approachable.
"What is your name?" he asked, now-gauntleted hand extended.
"Shantay, m'lord."
"I am no one's lord, my lady. Will you be well?"
Shantay noticed the inconsistancy of Railtus denying his own station and in the same breath addressing her as lady. It actually amused her somewhat. "Yes, thank you." Shantay answered, glad for the touch of humour.
"If you ever have a need you know where to find me, right?" asked Railtus.
Shantay gave a faint nod. This was all too much for her. Witnessing Phelan's true nature was shock enough, but the sudden kindness of these two strangers was almost more than she could believe.
Sure that he had done all he could here just now, Railtus picked up his shield, then looked over Mavelle to call to Julen.
"Come with me when you get chance. I want to take a look at your cuts, and then we have a few more trips for the day." With that, Railtus nodded his ackowledgement to the collective kitchen staff, shook the hand of Shantay, swiftly kissing the hand in his usual manner, then made his way towards Mavelle.
"I'll be back later. Farewell for now." With that, he took her hand and kissed it, less swiftly than with Shantay... and stepped from the kitchen to the courtyard.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
“Come back soon,” Mavelle whispered, staring after Railtus with a dreamy expression. She didn’t want to move -- didn’t want to let any sensation replace the lingering warmth of his kiss on her hand, didn’t want to let any memory replace her last glimpse of him. Somehow, those things would have to sustain her until he returned.
Mavelle was so distracted by Railtus’s departure that she failed to notice Julen leaving her side in order to wash his face. But when he returned, his voice brought her out of her trance. “It seems I must be on my way. Thank you for lunch, M’lady. The stew was quite excellent.”
After all that Julen had suffered, or nearly suffered, the fact that he was thanking her for something as trivial as lunch made Mavelle want to giggle and weep at the same time. Guiltily, she noticed that some of his scrapes were already oozing fresh blood. “I...” Mavelle began, grappling for something she couldn’t quite express. Then, impulsively, she reached out and touched Julen’s hand, although she’d never done any such thing with a servant before.
“I just want to become worthy of him,” she explained, as if that was any explanation at all.
But Julen seemed to understand. The smile he gave her was genuine, although his words were spoken with deep seriousness. “I’m not sure that’s possible for either of us, M’lady. But it’s a good thing to try. It’s a good thing to try.”
Then, his tone became truly playful. “But I need go. There’s a shield that surely won’t make it across town unless I carry it. Until we meet again, M’lady.”
Stepping out of the kitchen, Julen blinked in the bright afternoon light. There had been moments during the last hour when he wasn’t sure he would ever see that light again. The warmth of it against his skin felt particularly pleasant as he joined Railtus. “Well. Where to, now?”
Mavelle was so distracted by Railtus’s departure that she failed to notice Julen leaving her side in order to wash his face. But when he returned, his voice brought her out of her trance. “It seems I must be on my way. Thank you for lunch, M’lady. The stew was quite excellent.”
After all that Julen had suffered, or nearly suffered, the fact that he was thanking her for something as trivial as lunch made Mavelle want to giggle and weep at the same time. Guiltily, she noticed that some of his scrapes were already oozing fresh blood. “I...” Mavelle began, grappling for something she couldn’t quite express. Then, impulsively, she reached out and touched Julen’s hand, although she’d never done any such thing with a servant before.
“I just want to become worthy of him,” she explained, as if that was any explanation at all.
But Julen seemed to understand. The smile he gave her was genuine, although his words were spoken with deep seriousness. “I’m not sure that’s possible for either of us, M’lady. But it’s a good thing to try. It’s a good thing to try.”
Then, his tone became truly playful. “But I need go. There’s a shield that surely won’t make it across town unless I carry it. Until we meet again, M’lady.”
Stepping out of the kitchen, Julen blinked in the bright afternoon light. There had been moments during the last hour when he wasn’t sure he would ever see that light again. The warmth of it against his skin felt particularly pleasant as he joined Railtus. “Well. Where to, now?”
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
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From the open air, Railtus felt a sense of relief and accomplishment, the satisfaction of a job well done. Part of him wondered what was this job well done. No grand achievement sprung to mind, other than sparing Julen from further harm from Phelan.
Oh. Yes. That.
A deed well worth doing, for one most worthy of it. Fighting injustice was exactly what Railtus sought to do with knighthood. While bards were unlikely to sing of this event, the fact remained that he had done some good in the world, something which was always worth doing.
Now that Julen had joined him, Railtus
"To the Fighter's Guild. We will collect some training arms. We also have a House holding to visit, then there is some gear for you to fix. We'll find you a new chain on the way. First, your cuts."
Following his point, Railtus lifted his pendant from his neck with one hand, and raised it to Julen's cheek whilst intoning a prayer.
"Gift of mercy, health be guarded and flesh made whole."
At that moment, the cuts closed, the skin mending there and then and making no attempt to conceal what it was doing. Bleeding rips were now unmarred skin, the damage gone in an instant.
Oh. Yes. That.
A deed well worth doing, for one most worthy of it. Fighting injustice was exactly what Railtus sought to do with knighthood. While bards were unlikely to sing of this event, the fact remained that he had done some good in the world, something which was always worth doing.
Now that Julen had joined him, Railtus
"To the Fighter's Guild. We will collect some training arms. We also have a House holding to visit, then there is some gear for you to fix. We'll find you a new chain on the way. First, your cuts."
Following his point, Railtus lifted his pendant from his neck with one hand, and raised it to Julen's cheek whilst intoning a prayer.
"Gift of mercy, health be guarded and flesh made whole."
At that moment, the cuts closed, the skin mending there and then and making no attempt to conceal what it was doing. Bleeding rips were now unmarred skin, the damage gone in an instant.
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
When Railtus raised his pendant, Julen didn’t know quite how to react. What was his friend trying to do? Bless his wound? That guess seemed to be confirmed when Railtus spoke a short prayer.
Julen had seen faith healing before. During sermons at the church his father took him to, the priest often summoned the sick and elderly of Shim -- people far too poor to afford being seen by any of the few true healers who served the government in Marn. He told them to rise up, to cast off their illness, which was only a manifestation of their own weakness and doubt. If they got better, it was a testament to God’s mercy. If they didn’t, it was because they lacked belief. Sitting beside his father on one of the church’s uncomfortable wooden benches, Julen had thought of his mother, dead for so many long years, and wondered what kind of God needed to be so stingy with His mercy?
Still, Julen understood that Railtus held deep religious convictions, so he was prepared to be polite about a gesture that was obviously well-intentioned. Until...
Julen’s cheek began to tingle, as if he’d just stepped inside after being out in the cold for a long time. After a moment, the tingling grew sharper, and condensed in thin lines -- lines that traced the paths of the scrapes Phelan’s rings had torn into his flesh. Julen could almost feel his skin stretching as it joined back together. Then, abruptly, the sensation ceased. Nearly mute with shock, Julen touched his face. All traces of the cuts had vanished.
“What are you...?” It was all too much. Seeing Railtus filled with righteous fury as he faced down Phelan, seeing him in the courtyard with the sunlight gleaming off his newly-cleaned armor, and now experiencing this. Caught somewhere between awe and fear, Julen dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “You are not a mortal man...”
Julen had seen faith healing before. During sermons at the church his father took him to, the priest often summoned the sick and elderly of Shim -- people far too poor to afford being seen by any of the few true healers who served the government in Marn. He told them to rise up, to cast off their illness, which was only a manifestation of their own weakness and doubt. If they got better, it was a testament to God’s mercy. If they didn’t, it was because they lacked belief. Sitting beside his father on one of the church’s uncomfortable wooden benches, Julen had thought of his mother, dead for so many long years, and wondered what kind of God needed to be so stingy with His mercy?
Still, Julen understood that Railtus held deep religious convictions, so he was prepared to be polite about a gesture that was obviously well-intentioned. Until...
Julen’s cheek began to tingle, as if he’d just stepped inside after being out in the cold for a long time. After a moment, the tingling grew sharper, and condensed in thin lines -- lines that traced the paths of the scrapes Phelan’s rings had torn into his flesh. Julen could almost feel his skin stretching as it joined back together. Then, abruptly, the sensation ceased. Nearly mute with shock, Julen touched his face. All traces of the cuts had vanished.
“What are you...?” It was all too much. Seeing Railtus filled with righteous fury as he faced down Phelan, seeing him in the courtyard with the sunlight gleaming off his newly-cleaned armor, and now experiencing this. Caught somewhere between awe and fear, Julen dropped to one knee, his head bowed. “You are not a mortal man...”
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Sir Karsimir
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- Name: Karsimir Von Greyssen
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Not again.
"Get. Up." growled Railtus irritably, near-dragging Julen back to his feet by the collar, while giving a sigh of exasperation. Dangling from his arm was the pendant like a mismatched bracelet. None of this made sense, Railtus could think of no reason why Julen insisted on viewing him as some sort of higher being.
Returning the pendant to around his neck, back home between the layers of jerkin and tunic, Railtus found some amusement in the concept. "If that were true, I would have had no use for the pastries you offered me when first we met." Having given voice to that irony, Railtus continued his point more seriously, "All you know of my background is that of a mortal man."
Grudgingly, Railtus conceded that Julen would need an answer, with the fervant hope that the knowledge would erase some of the distorted esteem. "I am an Angelsworn. A very minor one at that. We are mortal men, same as you, who live out our lives in accordance to the teachings of angels. The path causes us to drift away from our humanity over time, becoming more like angels themselves. You can just imagine what it was like convincing the Judges to let me in the city."
Continuing on as if this was no change in subject whatsoever, and as if the subject in question was not his personal transformation into a celestial being, Railtus added, "Shall we set off?"
"Get. Up." growled Railtus irritably, near-dragging Julen back to his feet by the collar, while giving a sigh of exasperation. Dangling from his arm was the pendant like a mismatched bracelet. None of this made sense, Railtus could think of no reason why Julen insisted on viewing him as some sort of higher being.
Returning the pendant to around his neck, back home between the layers of jerkin and tunic, Railtus found some amusement in the concept. "If that were true, I would have had no use for the pastries you offered me when first we met." Having given voice to that irony, Railtus continued his point more seriously, "All you know of my background is that of a mortal man."
Grudgingly, Railtus conceded that Julen would need an answer, with the fervant hope that the knowledge would erase some of the distorted esteem. "I am an Angelsworn. A very minor one at that. We are mortal men, same as you, who live out our lives in accordance to the teachings of angels. The path causes us to drift away from our humanity over time, becoming more like angels themselves. You can just imagine what it was like convincing the Judges to let me in the city."
Continuing on as if this was no change in subject whatsoever, and as if the subject in question was not his personal transformation into a celestial being, Railtus added, "Shall we set off?"
My faith protects me, my kevlar helps.
“But you can heal,” Julen insisted. His acceptance of Railtus’s suggestion that they “set off” went far enough to make him start walking, but not far enough make him change the subject. “Gods! The good you could do...”
Railtus’s warrior aspect had impressed Julen. But things like bandits and monsters were rare in Shim. To battle them was to battle an abstract evil. On the other hand, disease frequently visited the farms like a thief, stealing the one thing people could spare less than money. Julen knew women who died in childbirth, children who wasted away from fever, men in their prime who became crippled by an unfortunate accident. The fact that Railtus could potentially do something about those tragedies felt very real. “All the people you could help...”
All the people. All the endless people. If Railtus came to Shim, it would take him days to see everyone who might benefit from his ability. And then there was Marn, with its homeless, its orphans, its constantly struggling poor. Julen’s mind reeled at the immensity of the problem. Not even an angel could save everyone, much less a mortal man.
“You healed my cheek. But somewhere, a little girl just died. And now, an innocent woman. A good man. Perhaps you could have saved them -- if you’d made different choices, if you’d tried harder.” Julen could imagine his soul breaking under the weight of such an impossible responsibility. “Every decision you make could determine who dies, who survives. How do you live with that?”
Railtus’s warrior aspect had impressed Julen. But things like bandits and monsters were rare in Shim. To battle them was to battle an abstract evil. On the other hand, disease frequently visited the farms like a thief, stealing the one thing people could spare less than money. Julen knew women who died in childbirth, children who wasted away from fever, men in their prime who became crippled by an unfortunate accident. The fact that Railtus could potentially do something about those tragedies felt very real. “All the people you could help...”
All the people. All the endless people. If Railtus came to Shim, it would take him days to see everyone who might benefit from his ability. And then there was Marn, with its homeless, its orphans, its constantly struggling poor. Julen’s mind reeled at the immensity of the problem. Not even an angel could save everyone, much less a mortal man.
“You healed my cheek. But somewhere, a little girl just died. And now, an innocent woman. A good man. Perhaps you could have saved them -- if you’d made different choices, if you’d tried harder.” Julen could imagine his soul breaking under the weight of such an impossible responsibility. “Every decision you make could determine who dies, who survives. How do you live with that?”