Post by Lady Edfeil on Dec 29, 2011 16:24:52 GMT -5
A guard had arrived in the hall announcing a messenger, following almost on his heels it seemed. The Caerfarnon crest had granted him access without delay. The look in his eyes of one who had seen too much battle. She would rise even as he knelt, her mouth opening to ask questions, yet the scroll he lifted up to her with bend head stopped her.
The first thing she saw was the seal. And thus she breathed again. A dragon in red wax. Caera's seal. She was alive. None, nae even Kendrick would us it. There had been battle.. she nae had expected it to happen so soon yet she could see it in the face of the man who held out the missive. But at least Caera was alive. Was there victory to be celebrated? Hope for a moment took wings within her heart as she took and unrolled the scroll. Caera's hand. And then, as her eyes went over the lines, her heart faltered. Tears filled her eyes as she sat down slowly. The messenger awaited word, the master sergeant looked concerned and both awaited her reaction. She nae had the luxury any more to think of what was in her heart first. And thus she lifted her head and with a voice that nae quavered said:
"Pritthee, tell her majesty I be grateful to her for sending me the tiding, nae matter how I wish.. it nae had to be send. Windstorm... will be open to any of the refugees that need a home, and will be helped through the remainder of Winter. And if.. Caerfarnon needs our aide. It will be given. As to the King... *she stopped speeking only a moment. It hurt. It hurt too much to pretend she was strong and above it.* He will be mourned. And remembered. Tell her.. I await further word. Pritthee.. go and take food and drink. Cara will offer ye such in the kitchen with me blessing. I will have the Pretty Boat itsself readied so ye can return swifter and.. safer.
*There nae was a need to add further loss. She reread the lines swiftly written and saw that tears had blurred the ink in two places. Those of Emaine had fought valiantly till the end when the order came to fall back before all were lost. But King Drago had been felled by an arrow, even as the castle burned. When would there be an end to it. When would they be able to stop being vigilant and worry of naught but the tilling of the earth. She looked up again and met the blue eyes of the Master Sergeant, simply watching.*
Have the flag lowered to half mast. *she ordered softly* King Drago be dead. Emaine has fallen. Windstorm will enter full mourning for a week. *she nae had the right to give in to more. He had been a friend, nae a relative. Deepest grief must be given to those of his blood and lands and legacy. Yet the pain went deep.*
I will have mass said. *she added quietly. And then with a breath pulled deep from within as if to gather strength she straightened.* We will need to make preparations to offer whatever be needed for those that survived. Rooms, food, supplies and tent canvas that might be send. They would pray for Drago and mourn him. And in his memory offer what aide they could to those he had lived and died for.*
The first thing she saw was the seal. And thus she breathed again. A dragon in red wax. Caera's seal. She was alive. None, nae even Kendrick would us it. There had been battle.. she nae had expected it to happen so soon yet she could see it in the face of the man who held out the missive. But at least Caera was alive. Was there victory to be celebrated? Hope for a moment took wings within her heart as she took and unrolled the scroll. Caera's hand. And then, as her eyes went over the lines, her heart faltered. Tears filled her eyes as she sat down slowly. The messenger awaited word, the master sergeant looked concerned and both awaited her reaction. She nae had the luxury any more to think of what was in her heart first. And thus she lifted her head and with a voice that nae quavered said:
"Pritthee, tell her majesty I be grateful to her for sending me the tiding, nae matter how I wish.. it nae had to be send. Windstorm... will be open to any of the refugees that need a home, and will be helped through the remainder of Winter. And if.. Caerfarnon needs our aide. It will be given. As to the King... *she stopped speeking only a moment. It hurt. It hurt too much to pretend she was strong and above it.* He will be mourned. And remembered. Tell her.. I await further word. Pritthee.. go and take food and drink. Cara will offer ye such in the kitchen with me blessing. I will have the Pretty Boat itsself readied so ye can return swifter and.. safer.
*There nae was a need to add further loss. She reread the lines swiftly written and saw that tears had blurred the ink in two places. Those of Emaine had fought valiantly till the end when the order came to fall back before all were lost. But King Drago had been felled by an arrow, even as the castle burned. When would there be an end to it. When would they be able to stop being vigilant and worry of naught but the tilling of the earth. She looked up again and met the blue eyes of the Master Sergeant, simply watching.*
Have the flag lowered to half mast. *she ordered softly* King Drago be dead. Emaine has fallen. Windstorm will enter full mourning for a week. *she nae had the right to give in to more. He had been a friend, nae a relative. Deepest grief must be given to those of his blood and lands and legacy. Yet the pain went deep.*
I will have mass said. *she added quietly. And then with a breath pulled deep from within as if to gather strength she straightened.* We will need to make preparations to offer whatever be needed for those that survived. Rooms, food, supplies and tent canvas that might be send. They would pray for Drago and mourn him. And in his memory offer what aide they could to those he had lived and died for.*
