Logs:News for Greenfields
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| RL Date: 3 September, 2013 |
| Who: Euan, Graeson, Iesaryth, K'zin, Rasavyth |
| Involves: High Reaches Weyr, Nabol Hold |
| Type: Log |
| What: Following his conversation with Aishani and Alida, K'zin heads to Greenfields. It... goes. |
| Where: Greenfields Hold |
| When: Day 13, Month 9, Turn 32 (Interval 10) |
| Mentions: Aishani/Mentions, Alida/Mentions, Ienavi/Mentions, Linuore/Mentions, Rone/Mentions |
| Storyteller: K'del/ST |
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| Truthfully, when Iesaryth made her more direct suggestion what Rasavyth and K'zin offer their winged transport services to lord Euan, they were already in the air, flying higher and higher. They didn't bother to take the precaution of going out of the Weyr, because they could've blinked between to anywhere. The anywhere was, of course, above the not wholly unfamiliar Greenfields Hold. They'd been a couple of times, enough to have learned their way around a little, but not more than a handful of visits over the months since betweening became allowed. « How do you propose to find him? » Rasavyth poses the question, as ever having his own ideas, but wanting to hear what K'zin's come up with. K'zin's answer is typically mundane, « I figured I'd ask for him. » However, in this case, Rasavyth recognizes the need for some degree of transparency, and they won't be getting out of this without names attached, most likely. So they land and K'zin heads for the Hold to make his inquiry. Though old and generally respectable (that is - the legitimate side of Greenfields certainly is; that side tends to pretend that the less-legitimite side doesn't exist, of course), Greenfields is far smaller than a major hold like Nabol, and certainly somewhat less grand. Lady Linuore's hold (her husband is, of course, a distant cousin of Edeline of Tillek) is nonetheless clean and well presented, and those people that can be seen as K'zin makes his way in seem industrious, though most pay him no attention. Just near the entrance to the Hall, a well-dressed man stands, talking to a group of labourers in low, serious tones. It's not toward the well-dressed man, that K'zin heads, but rather to one of the industrious-looking people - not amongst the group getting a talking to. "Excuse me, ma'am," He asks of a woman who looks old enough to be his mother, "Sorry to bother you, but would you be able to direct me to lord Euan?" His smile is charming and manner (hopefully) pleasingly polite. Rasavyth treats this situation like so many other situations they've been in. It's an opportunity to teach. « Why not the well-dressed man? » His opinions are cloaked, this is teacher probing to find the motivations his rider has, independent of his own involvement. K'zin hates these situations. He always feels like the pupil thrown into the deep end of the lake and like he's not sure if the splashing he's making is keeping him afloat or driving him under. But they've been bonded over a turn now. He's used to it, resigned. He doesn't even bother to mentally sigh anymore. He just answers with as much confidence as he can manage. « Well-dressed indicates he's of some station, as does the way he's addressing them. I'm more likely to have to provide more answers about who I am and what I want with Euan to a man like that than I am to the average holder. Like this woman. There's also a better chance that I'll be remembered for speaking to him even if I never make it to see Euan. » And what's the point of being remembered if he doesn't get to reap the rewards. The woman, who is carefully digging weeds out from around the cobblestones off to one side of the main courtyard, leans back on her heels when K'zin approaches, and gives him an appraising stare. "Lord Euan," she repeats, sounding amused. "Not sure we'd call him that, around here. Euan. His name's good enough introduction. He's no Lady Holder's steward here." Just, presumably, the Lord's bastard son. "He'll be in the orchard, this time of day, most likely." There are very obviously questions she'd like to ask, but politeness prevents her from doing so. One gnarled hand lifts, indicating the appropriate direction. K'zin's expression turns appropriately abashed. Clearly, he's just some ill-informed, young wingrider. "Ahhh," is his exhale of understanding, "Thank you, ma'am." For the correction and the direction. So that's the way he heads, keeping his shoulders hunched a bit and head down. If he's lucky, he'll escape attention until he reaches the orchard and finds his quarry. Rasavyth's purr is pleased. « Well played, my K'zin. » Unintentional, he knows. But well played. Evidently, the woman doesn't think too much of the encounter, because after a simple nod in K'zin's direction, she's lowering herself back towards her work, humming a few bars of some unidentifiable song as she does so. The orchard isn't too far away, and it, too, is humming with activity: it's early autumn, after all, and that means it's time for harvesting. Here, it seems to be going ahead as it always does, largely uninterrupted by the events at Nabol. Overseeing the workers is a man with a familiar face, well-dressed enough to be not just one of the labourers. K'zin has adopted a casual stroll as he enters the orchards. His eyes pass over faces and more faces until they find the face he's in search of. He angles his approach toward Euan. He doesn't hail him until he's drawing near (though he'll wait if Euan looks engaged), "Excuse me, sir," A glance to the people nearest them. "I ask for a moment of your time." It might be an awkward turn of phrase, and maybe to ask if he could beg for a moment of the man's time would have been more what one would hear with that phrase, but... « And in this instance, why don't we beg? » Rasavyth's amusement curls oozily through K'zin's thoughts. Yes, yes, he's pleased with how this is going. « Because if our goal is friendship, » As Aishani suggested they might be able to manage, « We can't start too far below in status, or too high. We must be able to be seen as equal, or near-equal. » This sounds like it's Regurgitated Rasavyth. Which it is. But it pleases Rasavyth to hear it, and K'zin? Well, he's used to pleasing his 'mate. Euan does not look engaged. He looks like a man more used to indoors work - a man who isn't wholly thrilled to be overseeing anything like this. It likely gives K'zin a leg up, in a way: Euan's eager for an interruption to perceived drudgery, turning dark-eyed attention towards the bronzerider. "Yes?" It doesn't mean he sounds any less politely stiff, product of an education that must be at least close to that offered his born-in-wedlock siblings. « Try... » Rasavyth slips a suggestion to the rider. One K'zin never would have thought of on his own. Something so beautifully simple... And perfect. "You're my last pick-up for the day, sir." K'zin answers the politeness, "Not that I'm in a rush or anything, but are you ready to go to Healer Hall?" Because, at best, Euan wants a ride. At worst, it's a simple mix-up somewhere along the duty roster. Abruptly, Euan's gaze narrows, and he looks... not bothered, not outright, but certainly wary and confused. "I didn't arrange for a pick-up," he says, immediately, ignoring the way his slightly raised voice has attracted attention from some of the men working the orchard. "Who sent you?" He's already seen and made note of K'zin's insignia, but now his gaze slides back to it, perhaps as a way of reassuring himself. "No?" K'zin feigns surprise. "You were on my duty roster..." He starts, his hand slipping inside the pockets on his riding jackets, as though searching for it. "Maybe it was Lady Ienavi who arranged it when she arrived there a few days back?" He looks confused, still searching pockets for the duty roster, now onto the pockets in his pants. His sister's name only tightens Euan's expression, though there's something of relief there, too - his sister. Still, his voice is cool when he says, "Perhaps you could tell me why not ten minutes ago I received an anonymous note via firelizard to inform me that my sister was alive and well... and now you show up. Me. Not Ienavi's mother, who is, after all, Holder of Greenfields. Not our father. Me. Who sent you, Bronzerider?" "Gold firelizard, per chance?" K'zin queries, voice even. He doesn't answer the next inquiry yet, but he can't answer the first because he needs more information. "Yours?" counters Euan. Except: "No, it wouldn't be yours." He's not giving away anything else, though, but instead crosses his arms more tightly, and gives K'zin a look. "Sir," K'zin's voice lowers in volume, "You've seen me before. I couldn't help you with a ride then, but I'd like to now, and preferably keep my ass from landing back in the weyrling wing." The rider ensures that his face is turned such that the man can get a good look. There's a chance. And maybe the words are a little crass for delicate holder ears, but there's a touch of urgency to them. "Is that supposed to make me trust you?" Euan's voice is lower now, too, barely about a hissed whisper. "There are people who want my sister dead, and you-- now you're going to indicate to me that you were not who you seemed to be, the first time we met?" He's recognised the face, now, or perhaps the situation. "Why should I trust you? Why should I trust anyone when it comes to my sister?" Yeah. There was a chance that's how that one would work out. K'zin knew it going in and so did Rasavyth. It was a gamble and this time they lost. "Does it look like I have something to gain by seeing a lunatic with an army succeed in his attempts to murder an innocent woman and her child?" This matches his tone, hiss for his, K'zin's expression one of feigned agitation, "Look. Trust me or don't trust me. The note is probably from a classmate of mine who thought she was doing something helpful. Though what, I don't rightly know. Some of us really are idiots. Others of us just don't have the same latitude as certain goldriders to announce ourselves and our intentions as readily as the one that delivered your sister to the Hall." Which might answer who sent him. He lets his voice return to a normal decibel as he straightens, "So if you're ready, I'll take you to the Hall. If it was a mistake, I'll be on my way and see that my duty roster is correct in the future, and you have my apologies for the interruption." Euan is silent for a long, thoughtful moment. "I don't think you understand as much about the relationship between goldrider Aishani and my sister as you think you do," he says, finally. "Did Aishani send you? Is my sister at Healer Hall?" His gaze is still narrowed, that unasked question still obvious in his expression: can he trust this bronzerider? "There's where you're wrong, my friend." K'zin answers with an open and genuine laugh. "I don't claim to know a damned thing where women are concerned, least of all women like my queen's rider." And at least for now, he doesn't ask. His hands find his hips, "I do wish," he murmurs, "-that she'd thought to tell me what a damned untrusting fellow you are. Yes, alright? Yes. And yes, your sister's there. And she's in seclusion and Aishani says the time for the baby is near. Do you want a sharding ride or not?" He's given up on manners entirely, only barely managing not to roll his eyes. Euan's scoff is audible, aimed to carry, though his words are not. "Why should I be trusting?" he says. "I was interrogated by a man I used to work with, my sister was threatened, maligned, accused of terrible things. I was very nearly prevented from returning home, and I should simply trust the first person to approach me announcing they know where my sister is? I would die for my sister, but she would risk herself for me. I won't let that happen." He pauses for breath, expression sharp and serious. "I hope they're not training you to be a diplomat. Why tell me, and not my sister's parents?" "Shells no." Not a diplomat. K'zin quirks a small smile, his words quiet again, "I'd've thought it was obvious that they were training me to be a wayward bronzerider who thought transporting someone from our beholden areas was no big deal with no political repercussions." Beat. "That, or I suppose they can always use me as some other kind of scapegoat." He shrugs his shoulders, as if it doesn't much matter to him. "Because you're her steward and I was given to understand you were close. If my sister was in trouble, I'd want a faster ride than a runner. I couldn't help you get home that day in Nabol without stepping too far out of line, but today? Today I just have a mixed up duty roster." This time, finally, Euan's mouth curves into something resembling a smile. It's close, anyway. "Today," he corrects, but mildly, "you're making up excuses, even if you won't admit to it. You haven't even introduced yourself, you know. Do you also know that you'll put me in an awkward position, if I take up your very kind offer, and visit my sister? I assure you, it won't please her parents." Her parents, not his, even though one of them is presumably his. "But, as you say, she and I are close." "If you like," K'zin's shoulders rise and fall in a shrug, not answering the matter of excuses further than that. "K'zin, Rasavyth's, sir. And if it helps, I put myself in an awkward position by coming. If you'd rather, I can come back another time when you could take me up on my offer more discretely. There's no saying my roster wasn't wrong today." Another shrug. "For example, I hear your sister was picked up in the middle of nowhere near Minecraft." Uh-huh. That's what he hears. "Is that what you hear?" Euan's amused by that, visibly so. "And I'm sure it was quite by accident." Anything else, however, he simply will not confirm or deny. "Do me a favour, K'zin, Rasavyth's. Return to the main courtyard, where you will find my honorable," is that bitterness? "father, attempting to placate the cotholders. They're afraid, and rightfully so. Did you know that Rone's men burned a man's crops when he refused to let his sons be taken? Tell lord Graeson his daughter is safely at healer hall. I'm sure he'll send an official request for transport, but in the meantime, you can collect me this evening. I will still see her first." To Iesaryth, Rasavyth reaches for the sunny mirror. Twice in one day! « My queen, » He wasn't going to pry before, but now he needs to know. « How valued are these relations to you? Ienavi, Euan, and Greenfields. » Beat. « He is asking K'zin, publically, inform Ienavi's father of her arrival at Healer. Evidently, they do not know. » A beat. « We can spin such a thing as over-exuberance in a young rider who doesn't know better, but we are sure to take heat for it. With the Weyr. » So. Is it worth it, to Iesaryth? To her Aishani? The ocean's roar is something of a whisper, but it doesn't take more than the reach for Iesaryth's awareness to come back to sharpened clarity; she is curious what the bronze might be up to. The breezes are quiet and soft as she listens, and there is the sense of conference. « Our... allegiance, any promises were made to the Lady herself. She need be the only one of true concern in the matter. » That is, other than their riders. « It will cause problems for you and yours with the Leaders? » There is a pause. « We would not want that unless you see some gain there. » For them. Does he want to be on Greenfields' good side enough to hear about it from the Weyrleaders? (To Rasavyth from Iesaryth) K'zin's head tilts to the side and he regards Euan evenly, "What makes you think your father would believe me any more than you first did? I've no proof to offer. And I'm not here in an official capacity. Not being trained to be a diplomat, remember?" And Euan wants him to take that impolite mouth of his and direct it the 'honorable' lord Graeson? "Couldn't you go to Healer and tell him you were substantiating a report before bringing it to him?" He counterproposes. "You came to me pretending to be here on official business, to deliver me to Healer Hall," points out Euan, evenly. He's thought this through. "To lord Graeson, you will be passing on a piece of information, one that he can independently verify. And no, I can't tell him that. You forget, bronzerider, that I am the bastard son." There are politics at work. "All you have to do is tell him that that's the rumour. He'll be glad for any information." K'zin gives a slight nod, conceding at least one of the points. "Alright." With little look of exasperation, he nods again. "I'll tell him." And he turns on his heel, heading back the way he came. The rest? That he'll be back to pick Euan up? Well, hopefully that's understood. Once he's well on his way back to the courtyard, he reaches up to rub his temple on one side. « Remind me why, by the Red Star, did we get ourselves involved in this wherrycrap? » K'zin demands silently, petulantly. Rasavyth's demeanor in replying couldn't be any more different. He responds gaily, « Because it's fun! » Does Euan note the exasperation? He makes no sign of it. Nor does he say anything else - though he'll watch K'zin depart with some measure of satisfaction in his expression. And... is that relief? In the courtyard, not much has changed in the intervening minutes - the well-dressed man is still talking in a low voice with the holders, though they seem calmer, now. The older woman is still weeding. It is a few moments later that Rasavyth speaks more. And when he does, it's with cool calculation. « I see a way for everyone to win. Us-- » The sense is all of them. Aishani, Iesaryth, K'zin, and himself, « -- most of all. » Which is, of course, the most important part. « It is a risk. We will take it carefully. » (To Iesaryth from Rasavyth) With squared shoulders, K'zin approaches the group the well-dressed man is addressing. He lingers a respectful distance, his hands behind his back in a fairly formal pose of attention, waiting, his eyes watching the lord. In approaching, K'zin might overhear part of the murmured conversation: "Where are we even going to send our harvest, Graeson? Will we even have one? If he takes our sons..." The conversation comes to an abrupt halt a moment later, when Graeson - assuming that is who the well-dressed man is - pauses to turn his attention towards K'zin, eyebrows raised. Yes? "Lord Graeson?" K'zin questions uncertainly, coming even more to attention under the older man's gaze. "May I beg a moment of your time, sir?" Here, he will beg. Graeson glances back towards the other men, who clear aside, temporarily, allowing the middle-aged man to step towards K'zin, his brows still raised. "Greenfields' duties to High Reaches, Bronzerider," says Lady Linuore's consort. "Is there something Greenfields can do to assist the Weyr?" "'Reaches duties to Greenfields, of course," Though K'zin doesn't actually sound certain on that front. "Actually, sir, I'm hoping to assist you." He has to take a breath to steady some nerves he seems to be dealing with. "I'm not really sure if I'm supposed to be here, or talking to you, even, sir," Lords are above his paygrade, "But I was making deliveries to Healer Hall today, and-- sir, your daughter's safe. With the Healers. I'm sorry if I'm just wasting your time with things you already know, truly, but I just-- it felt right to make sure you knew." He looks uneasy. And probably part of that is genuine. There can be no doubt that Graeson was not, indeed, aware of his daughter's whereabouts-- that piece of gossip clearly hasn't made it as far as Greenfields just yet. He staggers, just slightly, and then recovers himself, pressing one hand to his chest as, pale faced, he exhales. "She's safe," he repeats, clearly to himself far more than to K'zin. "You have done us a great service in conveying this information... I will have Linuore tell your Weyrleaders as much, when we write to request transport. What is your name, Bronzerider?" Well, the way K'zin's dusky face turns a little pale? That can't be faked. "Sir, I don't suppose you'd consider repaying my great service by leaving my name completely out of anything you send to my Weyrleaders just in case they would see this as jumping chain of command?" That quiet plea made, he does answer. "I'm K'zin, sir. Rider of Rasavyth." Graeson notices it; Graeson frowns. "Surely not," he booms, dismissing the very idea. "They ought to know... well, I'll leave it up to my lovely wife. Will you come in, and tell her in person, or shall I be the bearer of good news for once?" "By all means, sir. I wouldn't dream of taking that delight from you." K'zin's answer is oh-so-genuine. The less he has to have his name in this, the better. If Graeson - father of a number of children, mind - isn't wholly convinced by all of this, he's nonetheless in too good a mood right now (his daughter is safe!) to get too worked up about it. "Well, Bronzerider K'zin, you have our great thanks. I'd best go tell her... thank you." And off he goes. K'zin is... off the hook? At least until it's time to collect Euan, anyway. K'zin spends the intervening time aloft. The sound of the wind covers up the sound of his forehead smacking bronze neck-ridge repeatedly. It's later that Rasavyth reaches once more for his favorite gold. « My queen, things went a touch awry, though still for the best. The only one at risk of rebuke is my K'zin. » So she and Aishani were certainly left out of the awry part. « However, I think you and your Aishani should know... Remember our agreement that politics should be left to the deft of hand and mind? » Or something like that. (To Iesaryth from Rasavyth) « Awry? The unexpected does occur. » Iesaryth is not too bothered, though she's curious, of course, and there's the faintest darkness on the horizon, likely due to someone else's concerns. « And... I recall discussing something of the like, yes. » She won't agree any agreement was made right yet, no. « What is it? » (To Rasavyth from Iesaryth) « Despite polite protestation, his name will appear in a letter to the leadership. » So, he earns points at Greenfields and loses some on the home front. To be fair, being a bronzerider from his particular class, he didn't start with many points to begin with. « He feels that on Azaylia, at least, an emotional argument may move her, if it is not 'too serious' an infraction. » He shrugs it off. The more important matter is the clumsy hands touching their politics. « It would seem that not ten minutes before we arrived, someone had the bright idea to write an anonymous note and deliver it by firelizard. A gold, as it happens. » Beat. « And it just so happens that your Aishani and my K'zin shared a drink with certain bluerider with a passion for firelizard training, a gold firelizard that looks to her, and an over-abundance of clumsiness. » He briefly replays an episode of K'zin and Alida dressed as stablehands. K'zin providing cover for her to check out movement in the loft above and her decision to instead announce verbally her intent to climb the ladder. And his own mental face-palm. « She may yet cause more harm. » He cautions. « She was once in our confidence, but no longer. » For the reasons Iesaryth can hopefully see as obvious at this point. (To Iesaryth from Rasavyth) Taking all this in with her typical placidity, Iesaryth considers. « Perhaps it will not be too much of an issue, bringing good news. » Perhaps Hraedhyth's rider will see how a brother would want to know of his sister's safety, as Rasavyth says. As for Ilicaeth's, she both understands and does not blame the bronze for something hardly his fault. Neither he nor his rider could stop the note. « Do not be concerned. She may not be able to do much to help your rider if he has issues, but she will try if it is necessary. » Let her know. (To Rasavyth from Iesaryth) « Our thanks, my queen. » A pause. « He called you his queen, too. » Why does Rasavyth share this? Well, because there's quiet pride in his rider coming around. At last. « There's hope for him yet. » He adds with amusement. « Euan has been conveyed to his sister. We will return him when he finishes. And have offered future services, should he need them. » He provides then, his tenor purr turning more business-like. (To Iesaryth from Rasavyth) She won't comment on the matter of the bronze's rider, leaving that to him. It's really not Iesaryth's place to say. « Thank you for letting us know. I hope all goes well. » After all, these people can be difficult. She withdraws, but there's the odd drift of sea-salt air, or murmur of waves that marks the gold as not too far off. Just in case. (To Rasavyth from Iesaryth) |
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