Turmoil (summerised from the room)

[Lady Edfeil]

The day had started with the calm preparations for yule. The baskets near the queen's chair had been filled with greens to prepare the decorations, and in the early afternoon it seemed the hall, even most of the castle seemed deserted. Wednesday was market day and with the feast days nearing many had made their way there. The castle had not been unguarded though. And shortly after she had sat down, trying to figure out the length of twine she would need a cry went up from the courtyard, swiftly followed by rushing footsteps.

Yer Highness.. *the guard had been out of breath nearly* Arson, she is wounded.

It had in itsself not been that unusual for Arson to come home with scrapes and bruises or minor cuts, but the face of the guard told her something else was the matter, so she rushed forth to the courtyard herself and saw Arson, still on her horse, slumped over with the signs of battle upon her and four arrows lodged within her body.

Call.... *the queen had started, but there had been no one to call. Certainly the servants were there, the castle had nae been unattended but was there any who knew of the healing arts? They needed a new healer. And soon. Whenever old Gwinny was not available, they were in trouble. It had been years since she had needed to tend to battle wounds, but what else was there to do with the eyes of guards upon her, and Arson surely getting worst by the moment?

Edfeil had led the last Stormblade into the hall, without the horse, thank goodness and proceeded to tend to the wounds with Millies help. Once upon a time there had been several baskets ready in the infirmary ready to tend to the men after their exercises in the pit. Now there was only one left. People still practiced after all. The arrows had to be pulled out, one who had gone through the body completely needed to be pushed through. The wounds were cleaned and the bleeding stemmed with pressure, then bandaged. It would have to do until Gwinny came back.

Blood had soaked Arson's clothing, Edfeil's gown and the wool rug in front of the hearth. The queen had kept her hands steady and her composure together by scolding Arson like a mother would a four year old who had scraped his knees, until after the wounds had been bandaged. Then a vague faintness had come over her. Enough for Millie to lead her away from the bloody spectacle and into the infirmary for a calming drought of camomille.

Nae long had she left the hall, while Arson was helped by Millie until Ghaele Draven, Kyle's brother arrived and tended to her until he could aide her to one of the guest rooms.

[Lady Edfeil]

((one would think that was enough excitement for one day, right? But no... *LOL* Continued.))

[Lady Edfeil]

She had stayed in the infirmary, nae hurt but slightly dazed by what happened. Millie had assured her that Arson had been tended to. She should have stood to welcome Ghaele, to speak with him about Kyle. To find out what has happening. Instead, she had listened to advice and allowed them to push more tea on her while she let the quiet of the infirmary wash over her. The Master Sergeant had been with her when Arson arrived and while she had tended to her wounded, almost aunt, he had seen to it that the news spread and the defenses had been alerted. Certainly, Arson had assured them it were but bandits and that she had dealt with them, but.. there had been too many strange sightings and small incidents lately. And this.. was not a small incident.
She thought and prayed. Until a knock on the door had interrupted her reflections.

Enter..

*The words had come without thinking, yet even had she known who was before the door she would have spoken them. After all, those were the ways of Windstorm. But the face she had seen had been enough to put a fear in her that was chilling. Seer. He of a thousand dreams. She had avoided him for ... years. Even his marriage to Siya Maiden Hawkmoon had not been able to conquer her fears. It was said he knew the future. It was said if he read yours it would be filled with bad omens. She had welcomed those of the dark arts in Windstorm. She had welcomed those that wielded blades. She had welcomed those that others said were cursed. And so she welcomed the Seer.

Their exchange was friendly, truly. Though nerves held her in their grip enough for her to dazedly grasp a cloak from a peg at the infirmary, and put it over the bloodstained gown to accompany him into the hall. The infirmary had made her feel vulnerable all of a sudden. Still the conversation was light. She spoke of their need for a healer, he offered in his travels to spread the word. He inquired after Windstorm. She spoke of a decent harvest. All was well and slowly the taut tension that had stretched seemed to ease.

And then Gregor had entered. Introductions needed to be made and she did such with ease. Yet when flesh touched flesh, when Gregor's hand held the Seer, things changed. And what Edfeil had feared for years came to truth as a trance seemed to come over the stranger who should have been a friend. It did not seem his own words that were spoken as they issued forth. And spoke of a son of two houses, an only heritage. A predecessor who would see the ascend as too fast, too soon. And saw the life of Gregor as a mere commodity.

She had panicked, her hands digging into Seer's arm, her words begging him to stop as Gregor had steadied him. And then the words did stop. And only then did Seer seem to realize what had happened. He had apologized, yet even though she had forgiven much worse happenings with less of a thought, this time it had taken strength of will for her to smile and offer hospitality for the night at least. Servants had intervened then, and with firm agreement of Gregor, she had sought her rest.