| abstract | - "Isna that 'zactleh what 'appens when some'un turns inna a shadow-beast, lass?" Griedan asks. "Isna that when th' shadow takes o'er them? An' are there not time what when yeh feel compelled beh it to do somethin'?" Finally he heaves a sigh and just lets it go in exasperation. "'S the same argument o'er an' o'er isn' it?" he asks. The two are a bit dusty, standing near the stables, conversing. "T-turns into a Shadow-beast?" Meian asks in a more muted voice, eyes widening a moment before relief settles on her expression. "...oh. You m-mean the transforming K-kael and I do? No, not at a-all, Griedan. We're s-still exactly ourselves. The S-shadow doesn't control it. And the m-most 'compelled' I've e-ever felt is simply wanting to r-run or fly." She stands with Griedan near the stable, peering up at him. Celeste rides up, looking a bit harried, but arranging a few bags here and there about the horse. She slides down from the mount and for a few moments, seems completely unaware of the couple that stands close to the stables. It is only when Meian speaks that seems to catch the noblewoman's attention. "Good evening," she mutters, waving a hand to the stable hand to retrieve the horse. Griedan shakes his head roughly at Meian. "No, 's not what I mean, lass. I mean one what 'as been fulleh corrupted beh th' shadow an isna e'en human ana more... turned into somethin' less." he says. The approach of Celeste upon Rampart draws his attention away from the conversation at hand and to the noblewoman. He offers her his customary awkward bow. She might note the rather large hammer in the holder attached to his belt. "Meh Ladeh... uhm... Sis'er... or... not sure what ti'le I should be usin' actualleh." he frowns and then continues, unabated. "'S good what to see yeh 'gain. I was 'earin' a li'l o' wha's been 'appenin'." he says and begins to shuffle his feet. "Oh, Griedan, t-that doesn't -happen-, I've never heard a-anything more than old wives' tales to t-that effect and they say -many- w-wrong things about the Shadow," Meian chides softly... although she looks to have gone even paler, nearly grey in her pallor, as she turns her head away. Celeste's entrance provides a welcome distraction, the girl curtseying deeply. "Good e-evening, yes, my lady." Celeste dips her head towards Griedan. "Lady is fine, Master Griedan. The term priest unsettles some, so I've decided that we should simply regard ourselves as scholars of the Light." She quirks a smile at the mason until Meian's words sink through the fog of that harried happiness. The three stands near the stables, Celeste seems to be watching as Rampart is lead away. "Actually, Mistress Meian, I've seen a man lost to the Shadow. It is not a pleasant... experience," she mummers softly. Griedan makes a strange face at Celeste "Scholars?" he asks, and begins to rub at the back of his neck. "Sounds... ehh... a bit strange to me, I guess..." he offers, but then shrugs his massive shoulders. "It doesna ma'er I s'pose what we call ourselves in th' en', I guess." To Meian, he nods his head in astute agreement with the noblewoman's statement. "Lost to the Shadow..." echoes Meian uncomfortably, her brow wrinkling. "What is... w-what does that look like? It sounds... c-chilling, to say the least..." Swallowing, she shakes her head, and turns slightly more towards Griedan. "Whatever we c-call ourselves doesn't m-matter, no," she explains, "so l-long as it doesn't cause p-problems. The most i-important part is still b-being free to do as we do." The Monastary gate swings open just enough to allow a single person through. Lyddmull Seamel looks through, then nods in satisfaction, turning back to thank someone on the other side before he moves through, pushing the door shut behind him. He moves quickly towards the conversing trio. "Good evening, my Lady," he says with a smile and a slight bow. "Mistress Skygleam, Master Griedan," he says, offering each a friendly nod of greeting. "Neither is truly a title, but it was adopted into the Order has having meaning. Before it was simply those who had move away from the Church," explains Celeste softly. "Scholars are those who educate themselves, and willing to assist and teach." She looks away from the mason, a grimace crossing her visage before once more returning to the studious expression. "It is disquieting, Mistress Meian. Almost as though looking into death itself, and mourning the loss of the person," replies the Mikin with a reflection of sadness at the memory. In the multicolor twilight of this six moon evening, another figure appears, slipping silently over the sunclay wall at the outer edge of the grounds. Though its arrival is mysterious and unconventional, the small shadow does not seem to be up to anything overtly nefarious, just lingering near the wall for a moment before stepping out to approach the group. Certain things about the figure become clearer as he--for the small figure is certainly a man--draws closer. Pale skin, blond hair, and the dull satin sheen of dark leather armor. "Light's Greetings," he says, approaching the group close enough to be clearly seen now. Syton Temple, quarterstaff in hand, smiles and nods to each of the assembled. Griedan looks to Celeste curiously. "Adop'ed beh th' Order?" he asks, still rubbing at the back of his neck. "'Ave we b'come part o' th' Order o' Th' White Dragon then?" He glances over a bit before Syton speaks, noting the man's approach from the shadows, hand momentarily going to the hammer at his side, though it is removed when he recognizes the voice and then face. "G-greetings, my lord-" Meian curtseys first to Lyddmull, then straightens to smile faintly at Temple. "And M-master Temple." For all the politeness, she looks somewhat wan and decidedly a little spooked, tension in her posture and voice. The girl folds her arms in front of her, posing to Celeste quietly, "But w-what happens? Do they b-become a beast?" Lyddmull Seamel's head turns slightly as the quiet Freelander approaches, some surprise in his expression. "Good evening, Master Temple," he says, grinning faintly, "You certainly have a gift in the realm of stealth." He turns to the others then, looking from one speaker to the next to get his bearings in the conversation. "Actually, the Order of the White Dragon was disbanded shortly after it had been formed, Master Griedan," replies Celeste gently, shaking her head. "You've been gone away too long for it has been a great many changes at once. We are a part of the Order, formerly known at the Imperial Cult, and now just /the Order/. So no, the paladins and clerics are no more," explains the Mikin in the didactic tone of a teacher speaking to a student. "As the Order believes as we always have, there is truly no difference between the two. Other than there is a stress upon that it is guideline, and not truly a /religion/." Celeste looks back to Meian at the address, gently reaching out a hand to place on the small woman's arm. "The Grinning Burus was such a man, mistress. You should speak with Master Songbird of the matter in more details, as he tells the story far better than myself," She states simply. The motley group seems to be growing in size this evening, "perhaps we should step into the courtyard, if we wish to continue speaking. The smell from the stables is tolerant for only so long," the noblewoman offers with a slight smile. Griedan nods his head and smiles just slightly. "Aye, we dunna get too much news down in Southwatch so much." he comments, offering, belatedly, an awkward bow towards Lyddmull. "Meh Lord." he says in greeting to the man, smiling at him lightly. before addressing Celeste once again. "Aye... 'S far mere 'ospitable there. Infact, I think what that I migh' go grab mehself somethin' from the dinin' 'all real quick, ifn yeh dunna mind, o'course." "I give all the credit to the night, my Lord," Syton replies to Lyddmull congenially. His gaze passes by Meian and Griedan, and returns their greetings with a friendly nod and a softly spoken, "Mistress. Master." Ultimately, his gaze ends on Celeste and, without missing a beat, he says, "Tolerance is a remarkable virtue, my Lady. Be it of stables or of your fellow man." A tilt of his head, and he adds to the Mikin, "Light's Greetings, Lady Celeste." "Aye..." murmurs Meian, her voice as troubled as her expression. "I s-shall speak with him a-about it." Her brow clears somewhat as she begins to walk towards the courtyard, posture relaxing as well. "S-speaking of tolerance, I met Master Songbird's s-sister, and I have r-rarely been so w-well received by anyone, even with my Mark a-glaring o-out of her." Lyddmull Seamel takes a step back from the group with a nod to the Mikin. "'Twould be much less uncomfortable than standing about in the road, my Lady," he says with a grin. An amused glance is turned towards Syton before he moves off to haul the courtyard gate open once more. Far away from Fastheld, all six of the moons spin and glisten in orbit; they are not stuck like flies on a night-blue screen, but move as fluidly and gracefully as celestial dancers. To those below, however, they seem small and even insignificant. Each is covered by a slim sliver of shadow. It is a quiet and sparkling night; there are no trumpets, fireworks or birdcalls to herald the approach of a new face. Below, on the mortal earth, the mundane sound of hoofbeats rings clear and ominous through the late evening; a strong, slender chestnut brown steppe bears the elegant sidesaddle form of the Lady Arbiter, crimson dragonhead bobbing above that of her mount as she leans over its neck. She also bears a biinwood bow and a black quiver, but, it seems, no armour. Her expression is neutral; the pace of the steppe slows as she passes the monastery gates. "I seem to have wandered into yet another philosophical discussion, or something similarly serious," Syton observes, his eyes sparkling with amusement. He looks over one shoulder to notice the coming Arbiter, his smile deepens, and he turns back to the group once more. He continues, "Can't we talk about the weather, or the state of the roads? Perhaps someone knows a particularly good Zahir joke?" Most of the way to the courtyard already, Meian turns at the sound of those hooves- her expression shifting into a composed, calm mask that testifies little of what might actually be on her mind. Wordlessly, the girl alters her course to head directly for Celeste's side, her leather armor creaking with each step she takes. Meanwhile, a not-so-silent sound arrives some time after Milora. The thundering of hooves and the shifting of armor accompany the arrival of Norran Lomasa atop his Charger, Palisade, to approach Milora's side. His shining obsidian armor is drowned out by the royal blue of the tabard he wears and his wide, billowing amethyst cloak that flows through the air behind him begins to draw down as he tugs gently on the charger's reins. He slows, matching Palisade's pace to flank Milora's side as he carries a somewhat dour expression, emerald eyes focused steadily ahead of him as they near. The Seamel holding the gate pauses, looking down the approach at the sound of approaching hooves. His brow slides downward as he squints into the semi-darkness to ascertain the identity of the individuals riding towards the monastary. As they draw nearer, his eyebrows quirk up slightly. "And so it begins, it would seem," he says quietly, almost to himself. He looks behind the door to speak briefly with someone there before he releases the wooden portal and begins to walk back towards the group he so recently left behind. Professed hunger apparently forgotten for now, Griedan takes a cue from Meian and take a position upon the other side of Celeste. Clasping his arms behind his back, he stands waiting for the two to approach, the disaster of their last visit he was present for not lost upon the sunkissed mason. "So it would seem, Meh Lord Seamel." he replies softly. It's a heavy, heavy rotation, baby. Thus escorted by her Knight, Milora reaches up to push a few curls from her forehead. Initially, after slowing to a stop, she pauses to survey the little group of people by the stables. When she speaks at last her voice is very strong, very able to carry, and rather high-pitched and affeminate. "The Arbiter of the Imperial Tribunal seeks to speak to the mistress of this establishment. She will come forward now." "We talk of a great many things, Master Temple. Just the other day, I was discussing marriage and wedding dresses with a friend." Celeste quirks a tired smile towards the freelander, but her gaze returns back to the approaching couple. Her smile brightening at the call from the seated noblewoman. "Good evening, your grace, Lady Arbiter. It has come to my attention that you have concerns of our small chapel and I would like to see that they are addressed," she states simply. Syton leans against his quarterstaff casually, looking between Lady Celeste and the Arbiter, still grinning in amusement. He nods faintly to Celeste before turning to bow his head at Milora and Norran. "Light's Greetings, Lady Lomasa, and to you, Your Grace." He says in a loud, clear voice. "How fare the roads? And the weather?" From atop one of the small walls surrounding the grounds of the monastary, Vhramis climbs over, plopping down on the dirt and sighing to himself. He plops backwards, seating on the top of it and looking over to the large gathering, listening. Meian flushes faintly at Celeste's words, leaning in to whisper to her in a mildly scandalized tone, "My lady! We d-didn't want a-anything too overly f-fancy, you know that..! Just s-something very small and q-quiet and I... oh, this is -entirely- the w-wrong time for this discussion." Straightening, the girl takes up a position beside and behind Celeste, standing with arms folded behind her back, pale little face turned forward to focus on nothing and no one in particular. Nodding, her face stony, Milora inclines her chin toward Celeste and raises her eyebrows. "I have heard that a gracious hostess always offers her stable to the horses of her guests. Do you believe in that, Viscountess?" she asks. Her voice is dry of emotion, similar to her face, until she turns it on Syton. There her brow straightens and her lips quirk; she nods him a greeting. "Fair and foul by turns, Master Temple. Perhaps you might help an Arbitress alight." Norran also stops Palisade once Milora halts, keeping their position as a few feet back along Milora's flank. Gauntleted hands remains on his charger's reins, looking carefully over the grouped people. He remains looking fairly serious and stony, that is, until Celeste comes forward to deliver her cheerful greeting. At this, Norran's visage cracks into a more familiar grin. As Temple approaches, he gives a somewhat dismissive gesture of his right hand. "Nothing nearly challenging enough, but idle talk of the weather is not too likely. Official business, this time. /Very/ official," adds Norran with a wink, his tone completely at a conversational level to Temple rather than speaking to anyone else. Lyddmull comes up to stand a bit away from the group, his expression seeming to randomly slide between concern and amusement. "Good evening, Lady Arbiter, Your Grace," he says, with a slight bow. Griedan watches the two approach and offers his customary bow, made awkward by his sheer size, though formal it is. He does not speak, as he's not been addressed. in mute silence, he watches the too-polite exchange between the nobles. The only movements at the moment from the man is an occasional blink and the shifting of silvery ringmail over his torso with each breath. Celeste waves a hand, lacking in the smoothness of velvet gloves, instead revealing hands that have been wearied with callouses. "I'm sure that Jonathan can see that they are well fed," replies the Mikin, her tone still retains the smile upon her lips. "Please," and with that, she steps to the side and waves towards a blonde haired youth that stands at the entrance of the stables. He watches the gathering with unabashed curiosity and blue eyes dart from the familiar faces to the strangers in complete dumbfoundment. Syton stands up off his staff and takes a few steps towards the two Lomasas. He stops abruptly at Norran's gesture. "Very official indeed," he agrees with a smile and a nod of his head. "Though why official business cannot also be friendly? I guess I'll never know." Syton turns from Norran to Milora and takes the last few steps to bring him to the Arbiter. He holds his quarterstaff in one hand and offers the other up to Milora. "Please," he says with great amusement, "descend from your lofty perch to parley with the mortals, my Lady." A little smile creeps onto Meian's face at Syton's words and antics, though she remains silent herself for the moment- not unusual behavior for the small Freelander in the company of so many nobles. So like a patient shadow she waits by Celeste, murmuring only one word to the noblewoman, "Refreshments?" "Yes; this is positively serious business," Milora says in her most positively serious tone, looking into Syton's face as he helps her step down, staff in hand. "Here and thank you; you understand that Sir Norran is here as a Knight before a gentleman, so I will employ you for those priviledges normally bestowed upon him. -- If it is that all mortals bear a brain and heart similar to yours, Syton Temple, my condescension shall be a happy one." Once grounded, she gives him a fond squeeze of the leatherbound shoulder and turns to address the taller woman, becoming stoic once again. "You understand that I will need to direct this meeting, Viscountess. In that case, as Sir Norran alights and Jonathan - thank you, Jonathan (a nod to such a stable hand) - bathes our animals, I would like you to introduce me to your bunch and explain their connections to you and, more importantly, this building. Thank you, Mistress, but refreshments will not be necessary until the niceties have been done, and then, should the Viscountess deem it seemly, we will find a more comfortable place to hold salon. Celeste Mikin?" Griedan turns his head to glance at Meian and then shrus his shoulders at her before regarding watching Milora and Norran once more. A soft smile grows upon his features as he regards the happenings, but there is some concern there as well. For now, he waits to be introduced by Celeste before doing anything further. Celeste looks back over her shoulder, and again seems surprised at the small gathering there. "Well," she begins in a somewhat light tone. "You have met Baron Lyddmull Seamel. He is stands as one of my guards," replies the Mikin smoothly before looking to Meian. "Mistress Skygleam is my steward and actually wishes to be a scholar of the Light. Master Griedan built a great many additions to my home, and also seeks to learn of the Light." Content at the small gather, she turns back to address Milora. "And Lady Arbiter, this is my home. It happens to also have a chapel that I've opened to the people of Fastheld under the stipulation that they leave their prejudice and violence outside its archways." She reaches into the folds of her corset to pull out two pieces of parchment and hold them idly between her fingertips. There seems to be a small group standing behind Celeste, the noblewoman half turning to introduce each of the members. While Syton is helping Milora down from her mount and Norran is looking officious slightly behind her and still mounted upon palisade. Norran dismounting Palisade is a quick, practiced maneuver. Half-plate armor seeming hardly a burden for him at all, Norran slips a sabaton from Palisade's stirrup and swings a leg over the horse's back, slipping his other sabaton out of the opposite stirrup and settling on the ground in one seemingly fluid movement. He gives the horse a pat on the neck, before walking over to flank Milora once more. The night's faint breeze flutters at the edges of his cloak every now and again, but he remains mostly stationary as he watches the scene alertly. The Arbiter nods to each of these people in turn, her face blank and her manner brisk. "I would like it if we could keep this conversation down to size, as they say, Viscountess. I have heard from such a steward that you have something akin to a tenet prepared; supposing that this is composed of the parchments in your hands at this moment, may I see them?" Lyddmull Seamel seems more or less content to remain silent through the exchange, standing slightly to one side of the proceedings. An appreciative glance scans the charger present, but the distraction is only momentary as the Seamel, listens carefully to the words spoken by the two noblewomen. Once Milora is settled back on the ground, Syton turns to walk back to his position between Milora and Celeste, off to the side. "His Grace is a superb Knight and a fine gentleman," the young freelander replies with a nod up to Norran, "I shall do my best to fill his shoes while he is at his post. And if I may do anything to make your condescension more bearable, than I shall." Settling back in place, he leans once more against his quarterstaff. Meian watches the goings-on with quiet, curious attention, keeping her own face blank beyond the faint smile that lingers on her chin lips. She remains a mostly inconspicuous shadow, only curtseying when she's acknowledged via nod to break the motionless silence of body and voice. Griedan steps forward as he is introduced and gives Milora another of his formal, though awkwards bows. "Meh Ladeh Lomassa, 's nice to see yeh 'gain." he says in his deep, rich voice, smiling down at the woman beofre backing up once more to his prior station next to Meian. From his distant perch, Vhramis continues watching and listening, his head cocked slightly to pick up the conversation. Celeste holds up the two parchments. "Actually, it is the Order's guidelines as well as the tenets that we follow," explains the Mikin. She holds out the two parchments for the Arbiter to take. A grin erupts onto Milora's lips as she accepts these papers; she returns her attention to the hammersmith and acknowledges him once more. "Nice to see you again as well, Master Griedan. You're looking exceedingly well; may I compliment you on your choice of armor?" To Syton, still smiling: "Your presence would make the worst of situations tolerable. Merely maintain your disposition and your close distance and I will not resent falling from my cloud." With that banter done and made up, she examines the bits of paper in her hands. The hazy glow of six moons blearily sheds night's light over the clay walls and the small crowd gathered within, betraying some shadowed faces to match the distant murmur of voices. Parading softly with guidance by such gentle light comes a ninth and tenth party to join the muted excitement. Umbrus tosses his head with a snort as his hooves clamber out of the rocky leaf litter and into the keep's approach. Familiar smells were a comfort this warm night at an hour when darkness robbed the eyes of familiar sights. A second pair of eyes watches from beneath a subtle glow of seraphite as the head turns expectantly towards the ongoings. Through the darkness, it's only that minor gleam that catches pale eyes peering blankly into the night- Meian blinks, and squints, trying to make out exactly whom this new party might be. For the moment, caution overruling all else, she remains still and silently searching with her gaze, distracted from Milora and Celeste's dance. "And so I shall," Syton answers Milora dutifully, mixing mock seriousness with robust amusement. The Freelander's blue-gray eyes shift quickly to the new arrival, as though expecting her, and he turns just as quickly to Celeste. "I suppose I shall play the squire tonight, my Lady," the young Freelander says with a grin. He disengages himself with a quick step backwards before turning to step away from the group and towards the rider. "Light's Greetings," Syton says in a warm, clear voice, raising a hand. The Seamel standing to one side has a better view of the approach than most probably. He leans back as a faint blue glow catches his attention and he attempts to look around the bulk of Palisade. The figure is obscured by darkness as well as unfamiliarity, so he waits a moment, simply watching the rider come nearer. As Milora looks over the papers, Norran remains silent. A hand rests idly on the pommel of his sabre, as it quite usually always does, and his other hand rests on his belt. He glances over his shoulder toward the approach of Rowena. Norran's brow arches in /very/ faint surprise, although he more than likely recognizes the horse before the rider. His grin quirks just a little broader. "It seems the Duchess Mikin approaches," asides Norran to Milora, returning his to his watch after that. Perusing the documents momentarily, Milora then turns, handing them to Norran in turn and giving him a smile. "Sir Norran - read these and form a solid mental opinion. Viscountess, it appears that you have taken pains to draw up this rather vague document; admirable. Is there a parlour within where we all might sit?" Having said that, Milora turns to spy the new horsewoman, a smile crossing her features as she nods gently to herself. "Excellent." Griedan bows once more to Milora and comes back to attention, his mountainous, white-glowing form standing out against the darkness like a torch in a cave. His attention to turns towards the approach of another figure astride a horse, much larger than his own from the sounds of its hooves upon the way. His expression is curious, though at Norran's statement of who approaches, he grins ever broader. "Either that or someone stole her horse," shrugs the Lomasa Duke, not seeming to worry too much about it as he looks toward the papers he's handed. He begins to quietly peruse them, not exactly looking very elated or excited by the texts in particular. Celeste seems the only obtuse member of the group for the moment, waiting patiently while the Arbiter reads through the parchments. It is when Syton moves away, that her gaze finally is stolen for a flickering moment to look at the new arrival. She nods vaguely at the identity of the new arrival is offered by Noraan. "Light's Greetings, your grace," she calls out to Rowena, lowering into a quick bow at the new arrival. "Vagueness, Lady Arbiter," inquires Celeste with mild surprise. "As the first document is an exact telling of the Order. I would only request how they seem vague so to better explain them," she states simply. Meian blinks in shocked surprise, immediately dipping into a deep curtsey at the mention of the Duchess Mikin, and remaining in that position- so low that her loose tumble of hair nearly brushes the ground- for a long moment before daring to straighten. "A p-parlor," she murmurs in a rather low voice to Celeste, though not inaudible to those nearby. "S-should I go, make sure the dining h-hall is in readiness?" "Thank you, we will cover that later. For the time being, a more intimate setting?" Milora's brows quirk at having to repeat herself, but her face otherwise remains neutral. Following Celeste's lead somewhat uncertainly, Griedan too offers his best bow towards the approaching Baroness. It's still awkward due to his sheer size, but he manages. Under the soft glow readiating from the skin of his face his eyes shine with a certain mirth. Odd, perhaps, considering the gravity of the situation. Rustlings of twilight creatures causes Umbrus' ears to swivel with an almost constant twitch. His rider keeps a firm hold on the reins by her hip while her other hand sweeps back what little the breezes have disturbed of her hair and chin dips a fond turn towards Syton's approach. "And to you dual fold, he who stands as squire at the Edge of Night." Rowena's lips curl faintly, satisfied with her idle play on the Keep's name. A muffled chortled is coughed forth from the horse's mouth over the bite of his bit as the reins are tugged lightly to the side. He tromps in accordance with the steering and flicks his tail in Syton's direction as they move forward with a lazy pace. "A strange time, this, for such a diverse gathering of bloods. Apparently my arrival may have interrupted something, am I correct?" Speaking lowly aside to the man with a leftward bow of her head, Rowena offers a small lift of her hand in response to the few who greet from the yard. Wolfsbane slides off the wall, considering Rowena curiously as she arrives. He doesn't approach, however, still keeping his distance as he stretches his legs. While everyone seems fit to go into their deep bows and curtsies as the Mikin Duchess, Norran looks over the papers in his hands. As Rowena nears and speaks, Norran delivers an impromptu little 'salute' of sorts in her direction, still half-reading the papers he's been handed as he does. "Rowena. Good to see you," he greets rather casually, lowering the papers to his side as he inclines his head toward Milora. "Just some official business. The Arbiter's come to inspect the chapel." Norran Lomasa (Nor) pages: Surprise brushes across the face of the present Seamel but he quickly offers a bow to the Duchess. "Your Grace," he says quietly before returning his attention to the event unfolding nearby. "Lady Arbiter, your letter implied that I could have guards present," states Celeste calmly. She looks over her shoulder to the motley crew, lighting even on the solitary figure of the ranger off by himself. "Truthfully, Master Wolfsbane and Lord Lyddmull have offered to stand in for my customary guards and you requested Mistress Meian's presence. We can move within to the dining hall, but in truth, many of those who stand here wish only to see that the concerns that brings such an auspicious guest to our simple doorway are addressed. Also," the tall Mikin looks to the approaching form, "I believe my matriarch may wish to hear of your concerns as well." A soft sigh escapes Syton's lips and he nods wearily. "You are correct, your Grace," he says up to Rowena. As an afterthought, he adds, "My name is Syton Temple, your Grace. May I take your horse?" His free hand slowly moves to hold Umbrus' bridle, careful not to spook the animal. He smiles kindly to the horse before looking up to its rider. "I find your choice of dress rather bold, your Grace," Syton says to the Duchess in a softer tone. "Most choose to wear a veil when approaching a hornets' nest." Grinning at Rowena as she speaks, Milora gives a gesture with her head. "Tribunal business, Your Grace. I would be pleased to have you join our party, if it suits you," she says, echoing Norran's cant. "It is my belief that Mistress Meian was about to prepare the dining room for a meeting." Dropping her voice a decibel as she turns back to Celeste, Milora's voice carries a trace of impatience. "I requested no such presence. That aside, I had thought that by asking for a more comfortable room in which 'we all' might sit, I had implied that all present were welcome; as it appears such words were ineffective, I will state now that that is what I would like best. If you please, perhaps we fine women shall lead the way." Nodding, the Arbiter turns her foot in the direction of the keep, hesitates and looks expectantly at the party surrounding her. Lyddmull Seamel looks to Griedan for a moment, trying to catch his eye before jerking his head towards the monastary. As if to further explain his intent, he moves towards the archway to pull one of the gates open. Griedan's jaw almost drops to the floor at Norran's greeting towards Rowena, lacking the use of title. He shifts uncomfortably in place and glances then over at Meain and Celeste uncertain of what is happening now. He stands in place, glowing like a rather large candle, eyes wide. Griedan catches Lyddmull's motion and lumbers over towards the gates with the Seamel. He grasps the other side of the gate and begins to pull it open as well, bulky muscles barely straining at all to move it. A light scoff of a sound escapes Rowena's lips, followed by a deadpan stare in Norran's direction, her greeting to him of the silent kind before one corner of her lips does curl slyly. "I have become immune to the stings..." she answers Syton with a conspiring whisper and hands over the reins. Louder, to Milora, she nods her consent and shifts some things around in the saddle bags. "I'll follow in fair time, Arbiter. Don't let my current fussing deaden your progress, however. Please." Her arm extends in gesture to the Monastary vaguely and she kicks her right heel abruptly out of the stirrup to pivot around with dismount. There's a hold-up then as her cloak gets a mite snagged on a bit of the saddle. Whoops. "I'll catch up." Syton holds Umbrus still, reins in hand, as Rowena dismounts. He leans his quarterstaff against one shoulder, freeing up his hand to pet the horse's head softly. He whispers something to the animal before turning to the group. "Careful, your Grace," he murmurs softly as her cloak gets snagged, for all the good it does. Once he's sure that the Duchess is okay, he turns to the others. "I shall see her Grace inside," Syton volunteers brightly, looking between Norran, Milora, and Celeste with a polite smile. "I'm truly sorry for the misunderstanding, Lady Arbiter," replies Celeste in a soft calm voice. "You mentioned a smaller venue, it was my misunderstanding." She lingers a few moments, looking back to Rowena at the issues of the attacking saddle. "As you wish, your grace. We will be in the dining hall, when you are ready." She offers a quick nod at Syton's words, and turns to join Milora on their way to the courtyard. Meian turns as soon as Celeste's words sound, hurrying to move as quickly as she can without actively going in front of the noblewomen- it's a curious, awkward dance, the girl's pace constantly shifting, faint anxiety in her expression as if she wishes to charge on ahead. Yet she does manage to hang back enough for a minimum of politeness, at least. "I shall save a spot near me, Master Temple. See you soon, Your Grace, and be well in the meantime," Milora replies, turning her head over her shoulder as she progresses into the monastery. Seeing Meian stepping rather awkwardly, she smiles. "Mistress, fly on ahead like the little songbird you are, and make sure that the room is fresh and warm." Norran doesn't take very well to stares, merely staring right back at Rowena rather blankly as she admonishes him silently. "Oh my, that's quite unlike you. But, very well, I suppose you /technically/ have me at a minor slip in etiquette. Painful that I must adhere to it with even you. My sincerest apologies, Duchess Rowena," replies Norran, his tone rather disappointed as he breathes a simple, tired sigh. Meanwhile, he folds the papers he's been given and stows them away in the storage pouch at his side for safe keeping. As Milora moves ahead, so does the Duke Lomasa, steps light despite his regalia. Umbrus rolls his watery blue eyes in Syton's direction just before bowing his nose to bump roughly at the man's waistband. Treats were usually stashed there, right? In people pockets. "Behave," Rowena mutters, but whether the command is to her unruly garments or nosy animal is anyone's guess. Both were equally stubborn and so, the Duchess seeks to rid herself of both ebony items. A deft snatch of her fingers loosens the cloak clasp across her breast and it flutters back onto the saddle. "It's a warm evening anyway," She excuses, casting a final, slightly taken-aback glance in the Duke's direction. "Was that a new ensemble he was wearing?" Perhaps her attentions were less on his address than his attire, as it innocently were. Regardless, her boots land into the earth with a little thump and she surrenders the mount to Syton. "I believe we've before met, I'll note," she taps a finger in his direction with a knowing twinkle in her eye. "But I'll accept the introduction all the same. My thanks for your assistance." Syton looks after the group with a dark expression, at once tired, displeased, and foreboding. His pale skin takes the color of the moons overhead, and his eyes appear as hollow pits by comparison. He draws in a slow breath, holds it for a second, then exhales with great relief and turns back to Rowena. The weight seems lifted from him. "I did not expect you to remember, your Grace. I'm flattered." Syton dips his head quickly, taking a few steps back, leading the horse away with a soft coo. "I earnestly hope that you know what is happening here tonight, your Grace. If not, you have my condolences, for you are undoubtedly in for a far less pleasant evening than you wish." "The exchanging of papers between an Arbiter and fairly new keep owner, said keep being of controversial standing, leaves me with little doubt," Rowena replies with a more somber note and gives him a little wink. "I'll suit up with a veil." Departing on that note, the alleged Matriarch follows unhurried after the disappearing figures of her peers. The eunuchs of Nights Edge Monastery long ago gathered in this arched chamber in mass for three meals each day. In the morning, they ate a meal called Suns Grace. When the sun reached its apex at noon, they came together for Days Fullness And as the sun descended toward the west each evening, they made their way up the shadow Watch Walkway to the dining hall for the meal knows as Shadows Fending. The spacious hall was originally designed to hold more than a dozen tables capable of seating more than one hundred eunuchs, the abbot and his staff. Designed in shades of dark and light, the walls of white sun clay brick lead up to dark shardwood rafters in the shadowy recesses of the arched ceiling, with a polished-smooth, rich wooden floor worn with the passage of time and heavy use. The room's acoustics are surprisingly soft, the worn floor doing a great deal to limit the noise when full with those who call the manor home. Along the back wall is the large fireplace and the room's banked ovens, built into the brick of the wall itself, with freestanding stoves and a large steel spit for roasting meats. A small, heavy biinwood door leads out to the narrow armory and on to the salle in the southwestern corner, while another larger and braced door leads off into the courtyard. On the north wall, an arched embrasure leads off into the manor's guest quarters, while to the east, a wide and heavy archway leads on to the peace of the chapel. By the time everyone else finds their way in, one by one, the dining hall is a comfortable environment. Clean and mostly organized but for a collection of various containers- even those stacked neatly about the shelves- it is also acceptably cool, the fireplace being banked against the lingering warmth of the night. Chairs wait to be occupied around the dining table, the dark little figure of Meian currently hunkered down underneath dancing lantern-light to muffle the heat of the ovens with the soft hiss of cooling water over hot stone. The first of those arriving into the dining hall - aside from Meian, of course - is the Arbiter herself, who selects a most central seat and gestures for Norran to be seated to her right. Her gait is steady and her face solemn; when she sits, she gives Meian an approving look. "A nice job you have done, Mistress. I am almost at home." To Celeste, when she nears: "Sit where ever you please as long as you are easily accessible to me." "I'm unsure what you mean, Lady Arbiter," states the Mikin calmly. She sits herself in one of the chairs, seemingly at random. Her hands coming to rest in her lap, and waiting patiently while the other arrive. Surprisingly, the seat she has found has two chairs at her side, and the woman does not seem to have taken note of this fact either. Griedan follows into the dining hall, his lumbering steps heavy, but not graceless either. Standing a ways back from the gathering of nobles, he again comes to attention, doe-brown eyes watching the group in general and occasionally Meian and Celeste in particular. He is taking a keen interest in the events at hand, yet there remains an impenetrable air of serenity about the man, almost as physical in its presence as the soft white aura around him. Norran takes his seat beside Milora. Of course, to sit, he first must unstrap the scabbard that holds the claymore from his back. He can still wear his sabre's baldric, easy as it is to position under an armrest, while he leans Retribution against the table and rests his hand idly on the pommel. He remains quiet, glancing curious to Milora before looking back around the room. Sighing gently, Milora gives Celeste a look of forced patience. "So that I may speak to you without raising my voice. It is a large dining room and you are my primary object of focus." Leaning her arms on the table, she waits for all to gather around her with her eyebrows aloft. "Does anyone know exactly why it is that I have come?" Aside, and apparently for her own amusement: "Keep your hand down, Sir Norran; we know that you know." Back to the group at hand. Slipping in to the room, Vhramis glances about briefly, before stepping to the side to not block the doorway. He leans a shoulder up against the wall, considering those about. "You have kept judicious care of that information, my Lady," Lyddmull says, smiling faintly, walking up to stand behind Celeste and putting a hand on her chair, "It is hoped that you will deign to enlighten us all now." "Lady Arbiter, please," sighs Celeste softly. "Speak your concerns so they may be addressed. I am aware of the viscous lies that have been spread of our chapel, and even spoken to the prince of them at length," states the noblewoman calmly. Meian rises slowly, dusting soot off and curtseying almost absently to Milora's compliment as to the housekeeping. Instead of taking a seat herself, the girl keeps herself distanced from the conversation, quietly hurrying over to the shelves tucked away in a back corner. She kneels and withdraws a small burlap sack, before standing on tiptoe to finagle a silver bowl into her hand- sack tipped to disgorge its contents into the container, Meian neatens the arrangement of the bunched grapes with careful, nervous fingers, and watches the table from afar. For all the serenity granted from his connection to the Light as evidenced by the glow about his person, Griedan's eyes become quite suddenly rather intense upon the conversation between the nobles. He glances at Lyddmull and Vhramis each in turn, attempting to catch their gaze with his own. Shaking her head, Milora gives a soft smile. "I am interested to see what this fine group of people will say." Seated neatly at the dining table, her ankles crossed and tucked under her chair, she gestures mildly to herself and looks at the awkward lot of Edgers. "Am I what you have expected, all of you? Is my gown grand enough, and does my staff," she taps the thing, previously left beside her chair, on the floor and then maintains a grip upon it, "look capable of spreading woe and pestilence? Is my escort admirable enough in his gleaming armour?" She casts a momentarily fond glance on the man next to her and then turns it sternly on the people in the room. "I am aware that most of you have preconceived notions as to my purpose here. Freelanders and Nobles alike, I want to know what is inside of your heads at this moment." Norran remains quite stationary, hand resting on the pommel of his sheathed claymore as it rests against the table. Milora's words merely cause a return of his grin, but he remains quite silent during the whole thing. He does seem, however, curious of a reply. Wolfsbane listens to the conversation silently, tilting his head slightly, before glancing to Griedan to catch his eyes as he seeks his. He nods in greeting to the man before staring off at nothing in particular once again. "You wish to know the rumors that have been spoken or how we feel about Night's Edge," queries Celeste with a quirk of a brow. The Mikin sits a few chairs away from the Lomasa's, hands to her lap. The woman emanates serenity, even under the scrutiny. Meian is not one to offer an answer, merely approaching the table to set down the gleaming silver bowl in its center, replete with several kinds of fresh grapes mixed together and arranged to show their variety. Then she seats herself in one of the empty chairs, next to Celeste, hands folding in her lap patiently. "Might it be that /this/ was the urgent matter of business that she was wishing to discuss...." Rowena mumbles quietly as she and Temple follow with delayed suit into the spacious hall. Halting just inside the door to join Vhramis in his patient observance, she adds "A rather soggy note did arrive in my parlor from an equally soggy courier some days back. The rain had rather drowned the ink. I had just assumed it was pertaining to the knightly order." Rowena's own union with the Light sheds no holy glow, but her cool, unruffled tone speaks well enough of it....thus far, at least. Her gaze pinpoints the space between Lady Arbiter and Celeste with a fixed intensity that persons such as the neighboring Wolfsbane have without a doubt witnessed, if not been target of, before. "I personally am dwelling on a small inkling for roasted boar, Lady Arbiter," she voices with a touch of disappointment in her tone. "But I suspect such things do pale in shadow of your purpose here. A purpose that is, I suppose, to determine if the existance of this keep and its teachings bears a threat to the stability of our political and religious orders?" The door from the direction of the chapel is pushed open to admit yet another person onto the scene-- Short and freckled, clad in gray and blue silks, Sahna Nillu slows to a halt at the sight of more people than expected, her greeting dying on her lips. Sable brows raised, she regards the Lomasas, then turns to Celeste. "Am I interrupting anything, Viscountess Mikin? I've come to eat your food and drink your more expensive wines in the name of paying a social call." The small Master Temple steps inside quietly, two steps after Rowena. His eyes immediately fall upon Milora and Celeste, and he watches the two of them intently as he takes a few steps over to the side, standing next to Vhramis. The only sound he makes is a soft, murmur of a greeting to the ranger at his side. "Master Wolfsbane..." Lyddmull Seamel sighs quietly before he speaks up with a smile as he regards the young noblewoman. "My Lady Arbiter," he says, "As I just said, you have kept admirably silent on the matter of your visit. I am sure the assumptions that would raise are fully apparent to you, given the situation. The manner of the announcement of your coming was stern enough to make everyone concerned more than a little worried. So please, if we may dispense with the unnecessaries and get to the matter at hand?" Sahna, however, is one appearance by a Duchess that /does/ surprise Norran. His brows raise appropriately, his demeanor seeming to warm as the room fills and he becomes somewhat less reserved than he's been. "My, my. Was there a council called without my knowledge? We've half here already, it would seem." As Lyddmull speaks, Norran chuckles rather politely. "Admirable as that may be, the Arbiter will proceed as she chooses, I imagine." Celeste looks up at hearing not only one duchess but two, color flushing to her cheeks for a moment. She turns to address the Nillu. "You are always welcome, your grace. As to food, I'm not sure what Mistress Meian has cooked up, but as to what is occurring... I believe my matriarch outlined it well," she states simply. His head turning, Wolfsbane looks to Rowena as she enters, dipping his head politely, and then to Temple as he joins him, nodding. "Master Temple," he murmurs, voice hushed, only seeming surprised as Sahna joins the gathering as well. Griedan remains silent by the doorway, watching Rowena and Temple enter with some surprise, and offers the Mikin Duchess another bow. Sahna Nillu recives one as well from the Kissed mason, looking somewhat surprised by her presence, but neither does he seem at all displeased with it either. He offers no answer to Milora's question for now. Shaking her head, Milora tilts it back a little and regards Celeste evenly. "Guess again, or give up the question," she says, mirth really crossing her features for the first time. Rowena is fixed with a smile, and a gesture is strewn between Syton Temple and the vacant seat to her left, should he choose to take it. Dropping the matter than and returning to the Duchess: "Thank you, Duchess Rowena, that is exactly it. We will continue on the subject when the matter of my being wined and dined has been addressed. Ah!" She smiles at the newest Duchess, and bows her head. "Duchess Sahna. What a timely addition; I suppose that you will then bring a little hedonism to the table, as it were. A pleasure, and all the better; I am merely here to speak of Tribunal matters with Celeste Mikin." The present Seamel smiles faintly, offering a nod to Duke Lomasa. "Indeed, your grace, 'twas only a hope," he says before turning to regard yet another example of Ducal power as she arrives, surprise registering in his eyes before he manages a bow of greeting. He turns back towards the Arbiter though, still hovering above Celeste. "At least this very serious business hasn't deteriorated into some kind of public spectacle," Syton chimes in cheerfully. He steps away from his position by the door, casting a regretful look back to Vhramis before continuing onward towards Milora. As he passes, the Freelander stops briefly to bow at Sahna. "Duchess Nillu," he greets warmly, then breezes onward to take the seat that was offered to him, beside the Arbiter. He settles into the chair, silent now. Meian bites her lip, speaking up deferentially with her pale gaze lowered, "If the guests are all h-hungry, Your Graces, Arbiter, my l-lords and ladies... I h-had not e-expected... quite so an extensive group, but if you will a-all excuse me and be b-briefly patient, I shall p-provide refreshments for all." She rises to her feet and deeply curtseys, remaining standing at the table once she straightens, seemingly awaiting... something. Celeste raises her hand to stay Meian's actions. "I fear that the news that brings the Arbiter is far more important than such pleasantries, I fear. I'm sorry, Lady Arbiter, but I had not intended on entertaining this evening," explains Celeste, a hint of regret touching her voice. "So I fear that we will not be able to offer such refreshments, but I would wish to better understand the concerns that have brought about this visit." Griedan takes a deep breath and approaches the table to take up a seat next to Celeste, opposite the one Meian had recently vacated, provided the lady of the house does not stop him from doing so. Adjusting the bulky hammer at his wasit he settles his form down onto the chair, reciving a soft squeak of protest, yet it does hold his weight. Lyddmull Seamel frowns slightly, leaning down for a moment to speak softly to the seated Mikin. "Roasted boar, you say, your grace?" Sahna queries, offering Rowena a warm smile. Making her way to the crowd, she adds with a faint smile, "Hello, Syton, Duchess Mikin, Duke Lomasa, etcetera.." The smile fades abruptly as she regards Milora, seeming to mull over the matter before responding with dry politeness, "I wasn't aware that we were on a first-name basis, Arbiter Lomasa." Meian looks rather uncertain at Celeste's command, actually hesitating before she retakes her seat- but she does so without verbal questioning, bowing her head in acknowledgment of what she has been told. Still, she casts a rather longing glance at the oven and spit, hands tightly twisting together in her lap. Milora appears to be a little tired at this point. She peers at Lyddmull, and politely gestures to the seat to the right of Celeste. "If you will sit down, Lyddmull Seamel, so that we can continue swiftly." Regardless, she nods at Meian. "It is better than you stay; although I am sure hospitality is not entirely beyond you, it would seem that we are to be deprived for a time." Smiling at Celeste, the young blonde tilts her head and jerks her eyebrows. "Have you not listened to the Duchess? Very well, I shall reiterate: in short, my intention is to first find out what is done here and second to judge those proceedings accordingly. Your tenet was very nice, but told me little as it essentially recapped all of my current knowledge of this place. Very well: "I will stay here for some time, oh, say a sennight. Sir Norran will come and go as he pleases. During this time I will observe the going-ons here, log them, interview the inmates, and speak to you, Celeste Mikin, in private at least once. At the end of this period I will file an official statement regarding the fate of Night's Edge to the Tribunal." There's a pause there; Milora leans back, apparently satisfied. Her eyes flick towards Sahna for a moment, and she offers a rather peculiar smile before regarding the Viscountess once again. Wolfsbane remains quiet, waiting patiently by his position at the wall. He's still, falling into the gentle patience one well aquainted with living in the wilds, or perhaps even on duty as a soldier, can gain. Long hours of sitting doing nothing at all. "Absolutely fantastic," Norran adds, grinning broadly after Milora's statement. "While I'm here, I suppose I may as well do the favor of assessing the guard's readiness. I'm looking forward to aggressively sparring each one of you Masters during my stay." Norran seems positively elated, this time about. Syton chuckles softly beside Milora, covering his mouth and looking away. A short time later, he contains himself enough to return to the conversation. His mirth settles into a pleasant smile as he shifts his attention evenly between the Celeste and Milora. "That's not nearly enough time, Lady Arbiter," he interjects cheerfully, "If we're to put on a show, we need time for costumes and rehearsals. We have to learn lines and dances and find underwriters. It's really quite a task." Sahna settles down at the table, folding her lace-gloved hands in her lap with an expression of delight. "Well! It's like the Lightbringing all over again, only you're much better looking than old Bandus Flint, Good And Holy Lady Arbiter. Anyways, can't you do without that? Just tell everyone what to think and believe and you'll save yourself a great deal of trouble." Leaning back in her seat, the Nillu adds in a bright, speculative tone, "Then again, this should be fun. I think I'll stay and watch. How've you been, Norran? It's been a while." Looking over at Syton and patting his hand with a grin, Milora shakes her head. "You've a point, Squire Syton. I can only hope that these people will be honest with me to the best of their ability; if they cannot do that, that is, if I find contradictions between what they say or if I discover any untruths, it will not shine favourably upon this place." She appears to be addressing the whole of the room, more than just Master Temple. "As the Viscountess would say, Light guide and protect them." The expression with which she regards Sahna, then, is rather grave in appearance, although her eyes are far from expressionless. "No; that's silly. That has already been done for me." Rowena lapses in and out of fidgety silence, her gaze shifting back to the table of concern as Sahna heads in that direction and a little sigh voices her regret for having not hastened her response to her cousin's former notice. As the owner and therefore responsible person for this property and all therein, Celeste would indeed have to resolve the matter through her own words. Still, a mongoose does not abandon her kinsmen entirely. Stepping just a notch away from the wall, she clears her throat lightly. "Such observation seems very fair indeed. Unless requested, I respectfully shall bother you with no further input, entrusting that my cousin is very much capable of defending the integrity of the grounds via her own will. However...." Her eyes linger over Celeste for a moment longer, "if it is that either of you, feel as though my counsel would be of any value during this period," a brow dips, "then by all means do so. Until then, I will bid you all a good eve and take to a rather aimless wandering of the grounds." Turned halfway around, she halts and looks back pointedly over her shoulder to Norran. A knowing smile replaces her formerly neutral expression. "And as I hadn't the time to voice earlier, Duke Lomasa, my compliments to you on your evening's regalia. I do bear weakness for men in Obsidian." Griedan breathes deeply again and resettles into his serene air, though there is little mirth in his expression now. He regards Milora evenly, watching her as she speaks and once done, peers over at the Mikin woman next to him, expression questioning, yet having nothing to add to the conversation or keeping his peace. "We should play t-tag again," Meian volunteers, absolutely out of nowhere. "I'm a-afraid that's the l-last thing we all d-did as a group, that I c-can remember, but if we n-need to show what life is n-normally like here... my lady Arbiter," she suddenly asks, abandoning that train of thought- her eyes still meekly lowered- "I h-hope you will not mind if we l-leave the grounds? R-roving is part of my u-usual routine as a minstrel." "I will seek you out later, your grace," states Celeste calmly as she turns to address Rowena. "There is still the matter of our Knighthood," she offers with a slight smile to the mongoose. "Why /thank/ you, Duchess Rowena. It's definitely one of the best gifts I've ever received, and I get as much use out of it as I can," responds Norran brightly, his grin unwavering as he leans back and squeezes his claymore's pommel, giving a slight shrug to Sahna. "Oh, the usual. Going about righting wrongs, starting fights in taverns and keeping everyone on their toes. And you? I quite suspected you'd make Duchess sooner or later, not too many other Nillus seem to be as fit for it as you." "Good night, your Grace. Light keep you." Syton stands briefly as he speaks his parting words to Rowena, then settles back into his chair. He turns to Milora and says, softly, "I beg your pardon, my Lady, but you requested a show, and inevitably, that is what you will get. I think the best you can hope is that the show you get is a good one." Griedan clears his throat and then regards Milora once more. "I s'pose what that we are rather fort'nate to 'ave yer 'oliness 'ere Meh Ladeh, though I fear what that yeh will be quite well bored nigh to yer grave, lest yeh 'ave sud'leh taken an inneres' in cuttin' an' shapin' stone. I too 'ave to leave from time to time what to take care o some side jobs. I seem what to 'ave gotten quite a rep'tation what fer makin' bathtubs, it seems." he shrugs his massive shoulders and offers a smile. "Thank you, Norran. It's a shame my uncle's health has deteriorated, but I think a vacation will do him some good." Sahna Nillu watches only Milora now, gaze alight with.. Something very much like delight, as she savors the arguement. "Not nearly as silly as expecting everyone to be absolutely and unerringly uniform when it comes to something like religion." Sahna replies loftily, smile broadening. "Are you going to hit me with your stick if I say the Tribunal's full of horse pucky, Lady Arbiter? I'm just curious, naturally, since I'd absolutely never say something like that, for I am graceful and duchess-like now, with the utmost respect for.. Well, alright, that last part is a lie. I don't respect anyone who'd make a new church out of the ashes of the well-deservedly dead one." Vhramis remains quiet, and that's likely a good thing as the conversation unfolds, the ranger scratching at his chin as he watches. Celeste then turns to Sahna and then to the Lomasa couple. "I fear that space is rather limited in regards to quarters for nobles." She only blinks for a moment at hearing the Nillu's words. " Um, We have the dormitories and there is always the room that you stayed in, your grace." She brushes a hand down the resting mongoose, brushing away her own blush, if she could. "I would hope that you understand that I've also a few House matters to attend to as well, Lady Arbiter, as I'm sure that you can respect. You are welcome to stay as long as you wish, I request only that you respect our tenets. As I've stated, this is a place of peace and tranquility and we do not seek to bring the prejudice of my former Church to such preceedings." Lyddmull Seamel seems to show surprise at the slightly unexpected turn of events, but he smiles faintly for a moment before breaking out into a light laugh at Meian's suggestion. "I do believe that your plan is for the best, my Lady Arbiter," he says with a slight bow, "And quite wise, truly. I am indeed impressed." "Thank you, Duchess. I will no doubt be making good on that offer before the end of the duration of my stay." Milora nods towards the Mikin, a pleasant expression on her face. "Farewell, and as to men in obsidian, I usually prefer steel. I make an exception in this case." A pause. "As to you, Syton. Stay by me, and assist in my judgement. I trust you far more than anyone in this room except one, and make no pretenses about it." Resting her hand momentarily on Syton's and then taking it away, Milora laughs at Meian, her eyes alight as she regards the yound mage. "Every day activities should positively be kept to; everything must be as though I weren't here, except that I urge all of you to spend some time with me if you want the best outcome for your home." Sahna, not surprisingly, receives some special attention. For a moment Milora regards her with a half-bemused expression, and then she leans forward. "I would not waste a wallop on an opinion that could not be changed, Your Grace." There appear to be no more to that; she disregards the rest of the Duchess' speech and reclines again. Finally, the Viscountess speaks! "Sir Norran needs no permanent bed, as I doubt he will roost here as I will, although he may sometimes be here during the day to speak with you about legal matters, Celeste Mikin. As to myself - my tastes are rather simple. I would adopt one of your humbler chambers and live a lifestyle similar to those much-spoken-of eunuchs that once populated this place. I thank you." "It is rather nice outside," ponders Norran aloud, although he remains rather quiet for now, merely watching the others speak. "Eunuchs," mutters Vhramis, grimacing faintly at the thought of it. Still, it's barely audible, if at all, and he doesn't say any more than that. Lyddmull Seamel blanches a bit at the mention of eunuchs, sending a glance of mock-concern at Celeste. "Is _that_ why you have let me stay around here so often?" he asks, in an accusation. "I'm doing a good job as Squire, so I suppose there is no reason for me to stop now." Syton inspects Milora for a moment before nodding his head. "I shall stay at your side, my Lady, and offer advice as needed." He looks across to Celeste and smiles, adding in a diplomatic tone, "And I shall extend the same offer to you, Lady Celeste, as well as I am able." "Lord Lyddmull," Meian ventures delicately, daring to glance up for the first time in a while- all wide eyes and surprise, "is there s-something you aren't t-telling us?" She's completely straight-faced. Celeste offers a quick smile to Lyddmull. "I may have saved you in the forest my friend, but truly I would not befall such a fate to you," she chirps, looking to Syton as he speaks. "You are always welcome to speak with me, Master Temple. You've only to seek me out in the reflection garden on most evenings." "Don't worry, I travel with my wagon. Have you seen it yet? It used to belong to a travelling theater troupe. Quite comfortable and spacious." Sahna answers brightly, expression sobering as she looks to Milora again. "Actually, it's fortunate I came to visit when I did, because I have many questions for you, Arbiter Lomasa. You may think my opinion can't be changed, but that's certainly not true; If I am protective of this place, it's because Celeste has welcomed wayward people like me without reservation. That's not something any mage can assume, something very precious to people like me who lived in fear of a church that would cut out our tongues, put out our eyes. “I am not religious by nature because I savor those things I can qualify and quantify, yes. I run Sweetwater with a moral looseness that would bleach a former churchman's hair and I'm proud of that. However, I lead a house now, and I /do/ want to know what the Tribunal is preaching because it'll be important to those of my blood or on Nillu lands." She steeples her gloved fingers, leaning forward, regarding Milora, sage-green gaze intent. "Perhaps that doesn't interest you. But if it does, if you're as interested in teaching as you are in judging, then I am perfectly willing to consider that I may or may not be wrong. How fortunate for me that you will be here an entire week." Lyddmull Seamel's eyes narrow a bit as he looks over at Meian. After a moment of glaring, he replies simply, "I strolled right into that, did I not?" "Exactly l-like the wall you ran i-into when we played tag, my lord," confirms Meian, solemnly and straight-faced still, her hands placid in her lap. Griedan shrugs his shoulders quite indifferently at Milora and rises to his feet. "Ifn meh presence willna be missed, Meh Ladeh," he says to Celeste. "Then I will be tendin' to meh evenin' prayers." he says, offering a bow to the Lady of the house first, and the others after in no apprent order. "Lords Lomassa an' Seamel, Ladehs Nillu an' Lomassa. Good eve lest I see yeh 'fore I turn in fer the night. Meian, would yeh care to join me?" Turning to Sahna, Milora assumes a look of mild surprise and greater interest. She inclines her head, furrowing her brows, as though she might say something; she stops, and hesitates, and then nods. "You may approach me at any point, Your Grace, and I will exhaust my supply of knowledge to please you. I understand what it is to want to serve one's House." For a moment, the Arbiter looks deeply shaken, a break in the chain, a chink in the wall that had surrounded her - quick, someone take advantage! ... She does not appear to acknowledge the possible departure of Griedan and Meian. "Let us /not/ forget my cousin," replies Celeste, smiling towards the Seamel and bard. "If I could turn another shade of red, then I believe I would have done so." She looks back to Milora, nodding. "As I said, you are welcome to bunk down there. I believe Lord Aylon is wandering about her somewhere and may stop by for a bit of tea." She falls silent at the exchange between Duchess and Arbiter, looking back to the Nillu. "Thank you, your grace," she states simply, interlacing her fingertips once more to her lap. After a brief period of silence, Syton rises to his feet. "Excuse me your Grace, my Lady, Lady Celeste." He nods between Norran, Milora, and Celeste. "I seem to be of no more use to you at this point. Fare well, and Light keep you all. I shall undoubtedly see you all again tomorrow." Meian glances to Griedan at that, and then around the table, slowly. "No," she replies in a soft voice, "I'm afraid I've... m-much to do before I can really s-say my prayers before b-bedtime. I will need to go lay in more supplies- it was t-time to do so anyway, and with guests, even more necessary. I'll see you tomorrow t-though, perhaps, in the afternoon?" "You should remember, Sahna, that the Arbiter does not represent the old Church. Ensuring a chapel's preachings are legitimate is a far cry from murdering every Shadow-Touched in existance. A very far cry, indeed," interjects Norran with a slight nod of his head, resting his claymore across his lap. "If Prince Kahar has faith in the initiative, then so do I." The Seamel shakes his head as he looks at Meian, a grin breaking onto his harsh expression. He looks to Griedan with a farewell nod. "Sleep well, Master Griedan," he says before returning his attention to the discussion. His eyes light on the Arbiter for a moment, studying her before he reaches down to squeeze Celeste's shoulder a moment. In a final moment of exposure, Milora moves to seize Syton's hand as he rises; she would squeeze it tightly for a moment before dropping it. "Thank you for your assistance tonight, Master Temple. Stay close this week, please?" She looks up at him for a moment before turning her head away, fixing a solemn glance on the table and then rising. "I believe that we should adjourn for tonight; I release all of you from any further association with me for the time being. No doubt that is a relief. Your Grace, will you return to Riverhold tonight?" she asks, turning to Norran. Griedan watches Meian a moment, a small frown forming on his brow, but he atleast accepts her answer graciously. "As yeh say, Lass. Come let me know what ifn yeh need ana 'elp liftin' thin's. I'm atleast good fer that, aye. An' thank yeh, Meh Lord Lyddmul, but 'twill be some time 'fore I sleep. 'Least I dunna sleep in th' stables ana more, aye." he says heading for the door into the chapel in his usual lumbering stride, taking the distinct air of serenity that pervades him along with. Ruefully, Sahna comments with an impish twist to her lips, "Mmh. You make a good point, Norran. I respect the prince too, but he's still human. Well, if you don't count cheating death repeatedly, anyways. " Her mouth twitches as she adds, wryly, "I'll set up camp in the ruins, Arbiter, so feel free to call on me so we can discuss some things." "Crescent Moon isn't far down the road..." Syton chuckles to himself and takes a step back from the table, pushing his chair in. He bows his head, yet again, to Norran, Milora, and Celeste. This done, he takes a deep breath and turns to walk off to the door. Celeste rises to her feet, offering a gentle squeeze to Lyddmull's hand before slipping away. "My lord, could you mention to your patriarch that I will be be delayed in my visit," replies the Mikin in the measured calm that she's spoken for most of the evening. She looks back to duchess as she speaks. "Sahna, please..." she beseeches in a soft tone. "Take the guest room, you know how I feel about you sleeping under the elements and there's a new bathtub that Master Griedan has built." She slips about the chair, looking then to the Lomasa's. "Rest well, Lady Arbiter and Duke Lomasa," she states simply before seeking out the ranger's gaze. "Master Wolfsbane, could I speak with you for a few moments before retiring?" A simple request on her way to the biinwood door that holds the chapel. Lyddmull Seamel nods to Celeste. "I will ride to Jade Gardens on the morrow and let him know, my Lady," he says quietly, watching her make her way towards the door before taking a seat to rub his forehead. "I'll g-go to Light's Reach to p-provision the kitchen, my lady," Meian offers softly to Celeste, "t-though obviously t-that will have to be at a b-better hour... but either w-way, I'll make sure everything's r-restocked with food." She rises again, pushing in her chair. "Doubtful. I suppose I'll wander awhile. If I need a bed, I'll find one in Light's Reach. Quite near enough," answers Norran, stifling a yawn as he rises from his seat and returns his baldric to his back. "If you're retiring, Arbiter, then so shall I." "A new bathtub you say? Is it a big one?" Sahna queries, looking over to Lyddmul with sudden interest. "Oh, one of Duhnen's kin? Have we met before?" Milora smiles, and quirks her eyebrows at Norran. "Then good night," she says simply, almost dismissively, holding the man's gaze for a moment before moving around the edge of the table. "Lord Seamel," she says, gesturing toward Lyddmull. "I will wander a bit before choosing my chambers; may I have a word? I will not keep you long." "I trust in you, Mistress Meian. If you should need a bit more coin..." Celeste allows the implication to rest in the air, pushing open the doorway. The lanterns having already been dampened down for the later hour and casting the cavernous chapel in darkened shadows. She offers a quick smile to the Nillu. "Yes, it is rather large, and compares only in size to my own," replies the Mikin brightly. The woman seemingly in good spirits after the interview. She looks back to the darkened chamber and the dispersing crowd. "Light guide and protect you until we meet again," she states simply and disappears into the darkness. Return to Season 6 (2007)
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