Intercepted missives...

[Lone Figure on the Sea]

The ship rocked gently pon the waves as it moved toward its destination....England. Inside the ship's largest stateroom a lone figure sits pouring over parchments that seem too old soiled and tattered to be anything of importance. But important they are! Each one had been acquired carefully. A bribe here, gentle coaxing there... only once had there been a shred of pain given to ensure that such parchments ended up where they lay now.

Your Excellency,

It is my hope that this lowly parchment finds you well. You had sent word that you wished to know where the Prince and His lass were. Your last missive requesting that the girl be prepared for your court found them at Ryan Manor, tis on the outskirts of Edward's Kingdom,to the south. You're man will know it by the symbol's carved into the stone columns. Please await my next missive before sending him. The Prince and His lady are close to death now, it would not do for the man to arrive to early... Remember Sire that I have always been faithful to You and beg You to remember Your promise when we meet.

Forever in service to the Crown,

Etain

Dark eyes narrow as they re-read the passage for a second time. Then the second parchment is lifted and read.

Your Excellency,

I am at a loss as to what to say. I know that Nanny had her reasons as do You, Sire. But why did you send a man who would treat the lass so harshly.She is the Prince's daughter, Your Cousin. Should she not be treated gently? why were we chained? Why was she whipped so? Mayhaps Sire it was not your intent. If so I apologise to have brought such to Your attentions in such a way and beg your forgiveness for speaking of ye so darkly. The Lady has broken free of the man and taken us girls with her. She still knows naught of her real heritage Sire just as Ye commanded of Nanny to ensure. When i discover our destination i shall send word.

Forever in Service to the Crown,

Máire

As He reads the second parchment over again it begins to crumble in His hand. So the treachery went further than he had first thought. The wench had truly expected her station to be lifted! She had expected to be First in His household, even above His neacht. A soft almost frightening chuckle floats across the room at that thought and the memory of the truth, as he wondered if she was enjoying her reality now!The third missive now lifted odd colored eyes now narrow and focus pon these words too.

Your Excellency,

As promised I write you now to inform you of where we have stopped. We now reside in the lands of Windstorm, held and reigned by the Stormblade Family.The Queen's name is Edfiel De Rouma-Stormblade. There be a bit of sad tidings to inform. Nanny Etain has passed from our world. I was nay allowed to lay her to rest as Your man took us from the house afore I could. I begged him send her back to You as she requested before her breath became too shallow to speak. It is my prayer her last wish was carried out.

Forever in Service to the Crown,

Máire

So his neacht was at a placed called Windstorm. So be it! He would seek her out there...and those that dare to place their aspirations above true service to the crown!

[Cloaked figure on horseback]

The route over water had taken near eight hours with all the men rowing as hard as they could but finally they made port in an English trading village, and the lads as tired as they were, were given to rest at the local tavern and told to be ready to sail within a months time.The Captain however is told different. Let them rest but keep the lads ready to sail at a moment's notice. Tis tricky business we have underfoot, and I nay wish to be caught un-awares and stranded when we need to leave.

Understanding the quiet order the Captain bows and commands two of the men to see the three steeds off ship and fed for a time so as to allow them to get their land legs back. Whilst that is seen to food is secured for the three men standing apart from everyone else, brought to them with a deep bow by the cabin boy. His reward is a grin, a jovial clap on the back and a single small coin which brings a yelp of glee from the lad.

See to a sweet, lad ya've earned it. the command is heard before the three Nobles at the table tuck into their food. Yer Grace? the older of the other two lads intones in a near whisper after a time. Are we sure the directions be accurate? And what is to be done when we get there? Are ye bringing our cousin home? Odd colored eyes lift to regard the two men before him from underneath the cloak for a moment before shifting to the one that had spoken.

T'would seem the best course o'action, would'n it? Especially after all da trouble all this has caused for all involved.I s'pect we'll see when we get there. The missives state she has been kept naiive of her true birth, so we will see what happens. Two identical horrified gasps would be heard then. Ya mean shes still been using that bloody peasant name all these years?

Another look is shot out from under the cloak encompassing both as a low chuckle is heard. So it would seem.You laddies aren't peckish now are ye?

The tease does not go unnoticed irritated grunts and growls the only response which earns yet another chuckle. Finish up lads! We've got a lass to find!

Some time later the three set off on horseback through villages and sprawling countryside, one direction in mind....

[Cloaked Figure on Horseback]

They had rode, hard and fast for a good long time, the cloaks upon them keeping both rain and heat of the midday sun from causing them hardship..The group nary a pause did they give, save perhaps to eat a mite or two, usually jerky and water, or to let their steeds rest. Behind them they heard a contingent of three...ahh the men thought to send them guards, even though it had naught been requested. Ah well, so be't as long as those men did naught raise suspicion or cause them trouble with the local garda.

As night fell, they found themselves taking shelter at the nearest Inn finally able to allow their partners to rest, paying a pence each to have them looked after. Sup that eve was hot and fair tasty though that sentiment was probably due to nay having much to eat all day long more than the culinary skills of the Inn's cook. Some ten minutes or so after they had settled down to a meal their three guards come in...Three rooms paid for in proper English coin, the six troop upstairs to their lodgings for the evening, the three guards having chosen their watch shifts by a small turn of the dice.

It had been near funny to watch, a single dice produced, checked over by all three cloaked Nobles before being allowed use. Then however three rolls were made. The object of the rolls was simple. The closest roll to a six-dot, would win. And those falling below such a roll would by virtue of the numbers they roll have their watch shifts decided for them. The weakest of those numbers going first watch then the next lowest going second. That would mean that the winner of the dice game would have the longest uninterrupted sleep.

And so it had come to pass after a small argument between the oldest most experienced guard and the three Nobles, who had offered to take a turn on watch. Told that under no-uncertain terms would they do so as that was their men's jobs the Nobles were sent off to rest.

By the next morning, each man given a small pack of roasted and dried meats and a small bit of bread, they fill their canteens and buy 6 small apples before heading out to the stables. Each man is given one of those apples for a treat for their steed during the ride. Refreshed and ready to ride, the horses pranced and stamped about till their Masters were mounted and ready to move.

Next full stop we make lads will be Sean's little English hideaway so be sure ye be ready ta ride eh?

The cloaked figure with odd colored eyes instructs and off they ride, their pace quick once more.

[Cloaked Figure]

They had been riding for some time when two distinctively Celtic stone markers came into view. A decidedly...'playful' smirk came to the lips of the leader of the group of six as He pulled his cloak tighter round Him, the hood completely obscuring His features. Up the path they turned and kicked their mounts into a slightly faster pace. Seeing the burned out cottage all three riders pull up sharply staring at it and the burned out shack of a stables behind it. They notice both buildings have been nearly dismantled but the sight is still shocking.

Looking out at the well tended grounds and fields a quick pull turns the pristine white charger back toward the path and a gentle quick tap sends him surging toward the back of the land where stands an imposing greystone Manor. Before they are even able to halt however several lads numbering at least to six come barrelling out of the Manor or from the fields where they were tending crops and animals.

This land belongs to BhanTiarna O'Nuallain-Ryan. Ye will vacate the lands immediately! Rory growls staring menacingly at the six men before Him. A few of the guards have the audacity to laugh but are silenced by a single look from one of the younger Nobles in front of them. And if we don't? The cloaked Man on the white Stallion mutters in question. Then twill call the guards of the village ta remove ye as we have right ta do! The growled words are again instant and seemed more than a little sincere.

Ye serve an English Crown now do ya, lad? The question was incredulously spoken, but the brogue neath it is clearly anything but! NAY I have ne'er served the crown 'ere nor will I or any o'da people on dese lands. The man on the white stallion smirks beneath His hood and speaks again. Then pray ye tell me Whom ye do serve?

The question drew a harsh growl from those gathered as they once again went to staring down the men there before finally Rory speaks.

We serve the Crown of Eire! The TRUE CROWN of Eire! And will till our dying breath!

With a sweep of His hand the hood pon His head and that of the two Nobles behind Him, falls away revealing a blond haired man aged to his late 40's, His odd colored blue/ green eyes dancing as He hears Rory gasp before he and every person standing guard there drop to their knees. I-It ca-can't be...they said ye were... Rory mutters in shock stopped by the Man's harsh but humorously barked words.

Dead? Hardly...Up with ye...and let us go inside. We have much to discuss and we have been riding too long!

Dismounting from His steed the leader of the group hands the reins over to Teagan before striding toward the door of the Manor

[Cloaked Figure]

It had been three full days since their arrival at Ryan Manor. The servants and attendants had quick grown accustomed to their being there and their needs and naughts. Three days of gentle questioning given the man who had been Sean's own Man and trusted above all others. The Nobles had quick found out the intent of the Home and Cara's own intent for the now growing animals and vegetations outside.

"Yer Grace I be surprised ye were nay stopped on the road...nor that any of the English King's men have been here yet...." the words made odd colored eyes shift to the man behind Him as He chuckles a bit. "It did surprise Me a bit as well, Rory. But mayhaps't proves only that the lands here are yet unstable. Tell Me, lad. When is your shipment to the Castle of the first fruits of the labor here to be made?"

After a few moments thought the Steward offers up that his lads were preparing to leave this evening if all went as planned. After a thoughtful moment the Noble before him nods. "Call those lads who have been training here to the Manor, lad. They are to be tested." The words catch both Rory and his lads off-guard but they are quick to do as they are told bringing forth several lads that even Cara had naught yet had a chance to meet.

Calling the youngest of the other two Nobles forward, the Leader instructs him to take the lads back to the hidden training field and check their knowledge.A single look between the two men made it clear why and with a bow the younger man leads the group out of the Manor to do just that.

Returning some hour and a half or so later, the youngest of the three Nobles returns with the men in tow, pointing out eight of the twelve that stand there to the Man known simply as 'Your Grace' "These lads are all ready for their next step, Sire. And these three here...be ready ta Squire." He reports pointing out each lad spoken of in turn. The Leader looks over them slowly in turn before nodding with a sigh. "Were it any other time, lad I would say these three could be taken on by the three of us. But..." He begins and is interrupted as one of the young squireable lads steps up to kneel before Him.

"Sire, I won' dishonor ye, ifn ye'll give me a chance." He begs softly and a smile slowly curves the lips of the Man to whom He kneels. "O'course not lad. I know that." The blond haired Irishman reassures him before reaching down to lift the lad to his feet. [/i] "I have no doubts to yer honor or your willingness, lad. But as I see it ye be still too young to face what we will be facing once we cross that water again...Ye resemble Lochlan..." The Man mutters almost to himself. "Yes Sire...He was me Da..I be Lorcan." The words bring a far away look from the Man with the odd colored eyes as His thoughts drift.....