Ilúvatar Voronwé (vajra) wrote in caeleste, @ 2010-05-25 15:33:00 |
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Entry tags: | fiaethe yávlindelë, npc, the heir |
rites (fiaethe)
After every tour of the premises, he felt he knew something he had not before. Baila was not a creature of habit any more than he was a creature of poetry and verse, but coming to know this manor waas in some ways the same as coming to know Maeglin for a second time. How each sword was within easy reach. How a shield from every age lined the wall, and no adornments to suggest that they were the shields of his ancestors. Sylvan were not known for such things, of course, but here and there Baila had learned a great deal about them. When you found yourself thoroughly outnumbered as a child it was best simply to adopt the ways of the people you were with. And there was no doubt that each and every one of those shields bore the scars of use, rather than the signs of false attempts to make a thing look 'antique'.
Those were disgusting to citizens of any race.
All of this might turn out to be for nothing, but as long as he had absolutely nothing whatsoever to do, he would play the part he had for so many years. The manor falling down around them. Brass fittings turning to dust from disrepair. It was said they were rebuilding it, but Baila expected he would never see the building that had become his home again. Certainly Vata acted as though they would never return there. Live or die, win or lose, that place was a memory in his heart and nothing more. Sometimes the bastard was infuriating. Pretending to be the only one who lost something in the Breaking. Refusing to see what needed to be done, and threatening to cut out Baila's tongue for trying to tell him.
"Captain," a voice called smoothly.
The runners were growing younger and younger. Not that his face was weathered, but he'd been on more campaigns than his lord, and Baila no longer felt as young as a person ought to feel, when war was their profession. This young girl must have been from the temple. She carried nothing with her. A verbal message, then. More than likely put to work by her Lady Voronwé. Baila didn't know what to do about that.
"Captain," she said breathlessly. "There is a man at the gates."
"Find Sergeant... Feit, and instruct him to give alms," Baila managed to keep a list of all those soldiers who merited punishment in his head.
"Not a man," the girl was still gasping. "An elf. R-R-R-Ramga. Lord Ramga."
His lip curled without realizing it. Of all the dogs who ought to have died in a desert somewhere, Ramga was one of the worst. And meanwhile hearty drinkers such as Guyther lived long enough to be crippled and old, and useless. This girl must have been from the temple, now that he thought about it. She was still wearing the white and seemed not to notice. If she was keen on his reaction that was all the more reason not to show any. HIs mouth straightened. And he spoke.
"I'll have to find another way to punish Feit," he said ruefully. "Very well, child. Tell Lord Ramga that my master is not in residence at this time-"
"He came," the girl wheezed. "To see her."
Everyone walked small around the Lady Evarahl, and treated her with a reverence that far outstripped the widow's station. It was not in Baila to be rude to a Lady - he'd been raised properly - but she was too familiar by far with Vata, and not aware enough of the lord and how he worked. That being said her honesty was appreciated - and if his anger were distilled it would most likely be jealousy alone, that she could speak so freely when he could not.
Nothing to be jealous of.
"Is there anything else?" Baila asked with a raised brow.
"N-n-no, Captain," the girl stammered.
"Then go. You can collect payment from Sergeant Feit. Tell him to ready the map room."
"I will," she breathed.
His steps were swift but dull all the same as he moved down the corridor. All of it was happening quickly enough to ruin whatever plans were laid. And not for the first time, Baila considered putting an end to it himself. There were only two sword-hands who'd ever bested him in a fair fight. He'd killed one and he served the other. Ramga was nothing more than a stop on the road to purity and redemption for this nation. His blood would barely be noticed. Vata had not given an order to leave him alone, but the fool always did want to solve problems without violence. Very well. It was up to the lady, whether or not she would see Ramga.
Baila knew that she would not see him alone.
The heavy oak door which guarded Lady Evarahl's privacy rattled in its frame as the broad-shouldered elf hammered on it. She'd taken to ignoring knocks at the door, and he wanted to either provoke a true response or give himself cause to go and heave Ramga off the property. Maeglin would like that not at all.
"Lady Evarahl," he called through the door. "It is Captain Baila. You have a visitor."