/ooc Glad you liked it Moryan! "Don't call me a farkin lady!"

 

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Corrects Crispian..


DINNA call me a farking lady!

The moon had near to set as he slipped back up the stairwell. His hair was mussed and the collar of his tunic uneven. With a care, he lifted the latch and slipped into the chamber, but Jashen was still awake. The warm glow of a candle lit the twin face that looked mockingly at him. “Well, well, brother, have you been out late,” Jashen smirked as he handed over a goblet of wine.

Trying to halt a spreading blush, Crispian gulped down the wine. “Carrington back from Lyn Barfog yet?” he asked as he stripped off tunic and doublet, casting them on the floor in a heap.

Jashen shook his head. “You were the last of either of us to hear from him, so your news is better than mine.” He refilled the wine goblet as Crispian further devested. “And I am guessing you do have some news?” he continued as he held open a simple nubbly wool robe for Crispian.

“Does the name Lady D’Vena mean anything to you?” Crispian asked as he settled in a chair. As Jashen shook his head, Crispian shrugged, “Me either.”

He stared out the window for sometime, allowing Jashen to work at the tension in his shoulders, relaxing from that as much as from the wine. “Jashy, find out if Moryan is in the city. If she is, see if you can get her to come here, tonight yet if possible.”

Waiting for Jashen to leave, Crispian then called for Tannir. “Draw me a bath, please, Tannir. A very hot bath. I feel defiled,” he said, his face taking on a look of loathing and disgust. “No being so foul have I encountered in the field as I did tonight.” And he toss the doublet, tunic and hose into the fire.

 

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Ayslyn leaned against the trunk of the tree, his legs stretched out along the branch that he rested on. His eyes were closed. Secaran paced back and forth below him, reading through a sheaf of parchments. "We have news from Albion." he said. Ayslyn didn't open his eyes, but he did arch an eyebrow. "Seems Questor, the northman, has died. His heart failed him."


Ayslyn nodded, "He was a good man. His passing is a loss." He crossed his hands over his stomach and stretched a little.


Secaran paused a little and shook his head at the ranger. "His 'brother' Caerington has lost the title to the Whitethorn name and it has defaulted to Albricht."


This time Ayslyn did open his eyes. He looked down at the younger elf. "Really."


"Seems he was not a true son of the line, merely a bastard." Secaran frowned. Humans and their fascination with propriety confused him.


"Odd," mused Ayslyn. "Have my people in Albion start making discreet inquiries into this. I would know more."


Secaran looked up at him, "Why the interest?"


Ayslyn frowned, "Some time back, I had a very reliable report that Albricht was dead. He is not a good person. Caerington fights for good. If his title was taken through treachery, then perhaps there is something that can be done about it." He looked down to see Secaran staring at him in wonder and laughed. "Don't look so surprised. I have people everywhere. Justice knows neither racial nor national bounderies. I may not be able to work openly outside of Hibernia, but I can still work to protect the innocent and encourage and support those who fight for good. Send the messages. If they find anything of use, have them give the information to the leader of his order. They know enough to not be traced back to me, and Arguyle will do the right thing with the information. Oh! Also, have Damon watch Albricht. Something is fishy there."

 

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Crispian sat in the dark tavern room, more comfortable than he had been earlier. The leathers he wore fit well, as he had worn them for many seasons of riding and relaxation. His blond hair was gold in the candle light and his grey eyes shone dully. The worn scabbard at his side held his finest blade and his bearing was of one who knew how to use it. A second sword shown over his shoulder. The black jerkin was half unlaced, revealing a chest well muscled from warfare and scarred.


He waited for Moryan, not eager to pass what he had learned, or how.

 

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Moryan sauntered into the dark room, her eyes seeking out the one she was supposed to meet. She'd only seen him a time or two, truth be told, but she knew he had the realms best interests at heart, and for some reason he'd taken this matter with Caer under his attention.


She made her way through the room, hints of light catching the chains of her mail. Her deeply tanned skin was visible, she had forgone all her armor again, as was her desire in town.


As she slid into the seat across the table, she ordered an ale or two, tossing the wench a gold piece with the order to keep them coming. She plunked an elbow down on the table, drained the first mug and said, "So, whats this all about Crispian?"

<<forgone part of her armor.. forgive the late night postings>>


oh and BUMP

Crispian glanced about, a bit nervous. He had seen Moryan only a few times on the frontier, but he had heard of her, uh, association with Carrington. His rural upbringing caused a slight flush to spread up his cheeks at her manner, open and sultry without being brazen or wanton. Drinking deeply from his ale, he plunged into his tale.

“Well, I uh sort of heard about what’s happening with Carrington and all, and had some people check a few things out, and well ya see the same name sort of kept coming up again and again and you’d really be amazed what people say sometimes in front of the hired help and anyway well I guess the point of this all is that I know that someone has plans that go beyond Carrington and might even go all the way to someone much higher.” He breathed and sat back, drinking from his ale again. “So who’s Lady D’Vena to him anyway?”

The first rush of everything had flown out of him so quickly, he was almost winded. A neophyte to political machinations, his nerves were high. If it were not for the four or five friends secreted about the place, his nerve might have even failed. These were not things that a commoner risen in the rank meddled in. He glanced about, then fix his gray eyes on Moryan’s and quirked an eyebrow, waiting.

 

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Arguyle sat and dipped his quill into the inkwell. He then put quill to paper and wrote a note to his friend.


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My King,


The wind whispers of foul deeds. The Shadows tell of a plot against myself and you. There are those in the realm who do not agree with your decision to add me to the List and they would see me dead. However, they recognize that the only way to do that is to kill me.


But they fear the investigation that is sure to follow. They realize that you and I are childhood friends and have now put in motion plans to assassinate both of us. Please watch the shadows and the dark places closely. Be very careful of who you allow close to you.


Death flies on Avalonian winds this day. A Noble House of that land rises up against you. The Order of the Red Lions watches over you even now. We will do what must be done to protect our King.


Your humble servant and friend,


Arguyle


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The Highlander then addressed the envelope to King Constantine and gave it to his page, Kyle, to deliver.


He must stop this madness soon. Lady D'Vena was in someway connected to Hibernia. He must uncover how.

The mercenary lass blinked a few times at the onset of words, her dark eyes narrowed when the name D'vena finally emerged. "Farking bleeding witch o' woman," she began and didn't stop for several moments the oaths rolling from her tongue. Yet she kept her voice down, not being a fool.


She finally ended her tirade, and then muttered, "Shes the farking mother o' one o' the lasses in m'guild, a noble girl that wed a common gutter rat. Ravyin's her name, and shes also Arguyle's niece. But I get the feeling ye might ha'e known all that. D'vena has some connections to Hurbury it seems, and it seems she's a bit pee'ish about ha'ing her royal wedding and what not stomped upon. Farking bleeding nobles and their bloody politics!"


"What shes got ta do with Caer, I'm nae sure o'.. ye got something on that?" She leaned back in her chair, and tugged her fingers through her black hair. Her eyes were tired, and a few lines of worry were starting to take their place on the young woman's face. Yet, she was momentarily distracted when a rather handsome, rugged highlander pushed by to find a table, and she soundly pinched his arse. He blushed and grinned, then moved quickly on.