Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer
The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,
Or to take arms against a sea of troubles,
And by opposing end them,
-Hamlet III, I , Shakespeare

The brigantine was like a second skin once more Sylvia had started to wear it so often. Even in the security of the walled - by brick, water, and wood - manor grounds of Yearling Brook, she had accepted it as part of her every day outfitting. Her children no longer looked at her oddly, accepting it as part of her now. Cian alone had that thoughtful look at times when he took his riding lessons in the paddock still.

Even with the additional patrols along the creek and woodlines, Sylvia strove to maintain some commonality for the children's day. Rian and her nanny helped as much as they could, while Kiema's attention was much kept on her Marghaid. The lady fretted much over the lack of news from her husband, and the minstrel kept a light thread of talent connected so she could keep the woman out of a state of harm for the child she nurtured inside.

Ewan had not arrived for his daily inspection and drilling of the company of guards and fighters. Sylvia was uncomfortable in calling them a warband in any fashion, for they did not have the experience or the camaraderie that came with such a group of warriors. Some, she noticed as she walked the perimeter inspecting the walls that reached a mere three feet over her head, were eager for a challenge to their skills. Their enthusiasm was kept in restraint by the captain of the barracks and wiser, blade marked comrades. While their numbers were few, it was greater than the number left alive to defend a broken keep at Seansloe. And this land had advantages Yransea did not.

"My lady," Willen bowed as Sylvia approached her and another of the recruits currently on watch at the gates.

"Willen, Timothin," she smiled to each in turn.

If a man could look as though he were built from granite, and yet not be, then Timothin was such a man. Grey from head to toe, even in the shades of his skin, but his arm was strong and his mind quick. "Think your friend will be by today, m'lady?"

Sylvia had spoken with Sid, daring to hope that against the slender threat of attack, her friend of mystical and unimaginable talents would be able to aid in their defenses. As suggested, she had given warning to the company barracked at Yearling Brook of Sid's possible visitation. Some had shifted visibly with discomfort while those, like Willen, smiled at the break in the rules. Until that moment, Yearling Brook had been much like a capsule of Yransea restricted in what was permitted and what was not. Now, those born of Rhydin and its wondrous chaos would see it employed where they lived and worked.

"I cannot say, Timothin, but I will not deny I hope greatly that she does. The woods and waters are our least defensible positions. All that keeps them from being our downfall is those that may seek us out here to do us ill do not know the way or the region. We rely on a lack of knowledge, and I do not hold to that for long."

Both nodded their agreement as Sylvia bade them a good day and continued her walk along the walls, joined in the journey by Cian and Aidan wearing their wooden swords, ready to defend their family. Sylvia wondered if Rian saw this, and if so, what she thought of her young nephews taking up arms to defend her life.

"Do you think they'll really come here, mum?" Cian asked as he threw a stick at the wall.

"I do not know, but would rather be prepared for the worst while hoping for the best." She gave her sons a smile and walked on in their chattering company.

Instead of grabbing the hilts of their swords, as some of the trained guard patrolling the grounds did, the little boys pressed in close to their mother when the gates creaked open and the lady came in pushing the contraption. Cian at least had the presence of mind to eventually put his hand to the leather wrapped wooden hilt. ?Come along then, my little men, Mistress Sid has arrived.? She had long given up trying to get the boys to call the lady Mistress Obsidian. It was like trying to hold back the tide.

Cian continued to look skeptical as he followed in Aidan?s more enthusiastic footsteps behind their mother to where the guards watched fighting their suspicion to let Sid and the wondrous vehicle she inside. Sylvia motioned for the boys to return to their activity and when they were reluctant to do so, she had one of the guards gather them up under his attention and draw them to the barracks. She heard just the beginning of some regaling tale before she went to greet Sid.

?Welcome, though,? she tilted her head, listening to the jangle of the elflocks, ?under such circumstances I can image we would both wished were not so. Either way, I hope you are well. I do appreciate your help, even if I hope in some ways we will not have to test it.?

With a turn and a nod, Sylvia motioned her left hand to indicate the eastern and northern line of the land?s boundaries. A line of trees, sparse and indicative of a water source, in this case a creek, built and thickened into a forest beyond the northern boundary. ?As you can see, there are some areas of which natural defenses will not do much if they are discovered. I hate to rely too greatly on their lack of knowledge of the area. I do not rely on much at all since their even coming here is the edge of reason.? Violet eyes narrowed upon that border half created by the lines of men drawn upon paper and half created by nature itself.

A servant came out with a tray in anticipation of any need for a drink, and while Sylvia waved away the offer with a grateful smile, she did not inhibit Sid from partaking of the, what would turn out to be mulled wine in point of fact, provided refreshments. The glances from others had subsided and Sid was treated with the deference and respect given to those of Sylvia?s acquaintance, as well as to those who came as friend and ally.

Sid returns the smile with warmth and friendship, a humor tempered wickedness alighting in glamoured blue eyes to match the one of Sylvia's earlier. "Well, believe me when I be sayin' tha' if'n any know the oddities o' family an' nobility it be I." A wry chuckle and she dips her head a moment before looking back to the Baroness with that same wicked light. "Let us see if'n we canna induct them into Rhy'Din with a bang, shall we? An' once all this be done Yearlin' Brook will once more be a haven for ye an' yers, Syl."

Again her gaze sweeps the grounds behind them. "Where be tha' brusque male? The captain o' the guard, I believe. He be seemin' to be a good man, though a li'l unsteady about me," snickering a touch at the memory of their previous encounter. "I wan' ye an' he to do somethin' for me an' we shall set thin's in motion. 'ave those who be agin ye fleein' as they wet theyselves. Mayhaps."

The laugh and a nod, "Of course. I can go find him. Want me to bring him back here, or join me in the search? He should be about the stable or training paddock about now." She craned to see, though she could not make out his figure in the paddock area, that did not mean he was not there. "And, yes, the quartermaster, Daffyd, is a sturdy sort of fellow, rather like a great oak even in his compact stature."

"Daffyd. Gran' name." The smile Sid gives is enigmatic, but make no mistake there comes a touch of Spring in the twinkle of her eyes and the momentary flush across alabaster cheeks. Clearing her throat and beckoning Snack closer with a side tilt of her head she nods to Sylvia.

"Bring him back here, I be givin' Snack some las' minute instructions an' sendin' him off to fetch more o' wha' we be needin' to lay this down."

The flit of the hummingbird gives Sylvia a smile. She cannot fathom the ability to speak to animals, though some recollection of a childhood wish floats up in her thoughts and warms the smile a bit more. With a nod, she goes to find Daffyd, who is at the barracks office going over the supplies should there be siege and patrol records.

At Sylvia's beckoning, he leaves these things immediately. "Come, Daffyd, Sid is here to lend us some aid and hopefully lessen the stride grey is making in your hair." The man grunts and nods, squaring his shoulders to fight the instant discomfort he feels and lifts up his head, jaw clenching tight to not betray him.

Snack has flown off by the time the pair return and Sid is standing looking off into the distance. Hearing the footsteps behind her she steps forth. It is as if she moves across some invisible line, her form rippling and shifting with violet light shimmering the air around her until what walks before them is Sid and not. Clothed in flowing white and bare footed, spider-silk silver hair cascading from the crown of her head down past slender hips, the Maiden turns back to smile at both, Sylvia getting a wink.

"Pleasure to meet ye, sir Daffyd," inclining her head with respect to the quartermaster. "I be 'avin' need o' ye expertise so I mayhap help the Baroness an' ye here at Yearlin' Brook. Will ye work with me to this end?"

Daffyd clears his throat, not quite sure of it, but it sounds certain. "Aye, m'lady." The struggle to hold back his wonder is benefited by some years in Rhydin, but not by much. He is glad he clenched his jaw or it would have dropped open as wide as his eyes. Collected once more, Daffyd nods again. "What service may I render?"

Sylvia was having her own difficulties in digesting the transformation, but the expression is one of amusement, amused at her own ignorance of those near and dear to her, and amusement at the minuscule way she felt what she sees is only a manifestation for the benefit of those, like her, without wider understanding. An understanding only slightly opened like one peaks into the depths of a wide cavern.

Perhaps it was a bit showy of her, she thinks, but she does feel closer to the Physical in this guise and thus gives it no more thought. Only a bit of fox light in her grin at the amusement on Sylvia's face.

"Ye know these lands well, Daffyd. An' ye, Syl, 'ave the knowledge nae jus' o' ye home here but the benefit o' ye former life afore the Barony. Ye needs nae go far into the surroundin' areas wha' require the greatest defense, but whilst ye walk I be wantin' ye to picture in ye minds tha' if'n ye be 'avin' anythin' an' all at ye disposal how be ye funnelin' the enemy comin' at ye from these grounds straight down into the yard at Yearlin' Brook to be captured an' dealt with..." She cannot help the wicked delight in her tone or all over her face. "as they come screamin' in fear out o' here."

Even Daffyd relaxes enough to get a chuckle out of that hopeful possibility. His imagination goes to the practical as he starts his survey of the land. The edges of the frozen creek and what lays beyond their border in the few small sink holes created by the effects of time he and his men have discovered. He lays it all out like a surveyor in his mind.

Sylvia takes more of a fanciful turn, recalling at the prompting of Sid when she first came to the property. "So, you mean I should recollect the field of rocks here and how, most like in the earth below, except in the orchard, the rocks are still there like eternal seeds with no growing but just sitting?" She laughs and nods. "Oh, certainly, and the devil of a time we had getting through the rock bed to release the heated natural spring into the barracks for their soaking room?"

"Rocks 'ave a life all they own, Syl." That grin is pure fiendish delight as the Maiden walks off to the middle between the pair and their own paths. Reaching one of the largest trees, she leans against it and closes silver eyes to better sense the intel from Sylvia and the quartermaster, Daffyd.

Nothing will change until the moment is right, this she communicates to the surrounding woods and wilds. Snack has done his duty and shortly after this process has started comes the sound of great wings, many great wings beating through the air above them. Sid steps out from the shelter of the tree and looks up to the sight of Red Mountain eagles from Rhy'Din's northern climes. Each large enough to carry a full armored man away in its deadly talons. Silent communication with the patriarch of the clan and the great eagles fly off to perch around the edges of the manor's grounds in wait.

Roots and vines begin creeping up from the soil all around the woods and orchard and creek beds, one particular a beautiful green for this wintry time of year that crawls up trunks to dangle enticingly from lower branches where enchanting pods of deep purple and blood red begin to bloom. Her voice, though she remains apart from Syl and the quartermaster, lifts and can be easily heard by both. "Dun touch the pods an' warn ye people to stay from them."

?Aye, we will,? Sylvia nodded with solemn duty. She would have to work it correctly for the children and keep close eye upon them, but it was not unlike other instruments of danger the little warband had been taught to stay clear. She had no worries on that count.

Leaning back against the tree Sid hears the grounds come alive beneath her feet, animals and birds, insects and flora, even those creatures unique to Rhy'Din that plumb the watery depths hear her call to help. Yes, indeed, fear inducing this ride for the enemies of Sylvia will be and the Ancient smiles deadly into the sun streaming from above.