Topic: The trade of craft in councils

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-03-02 12:44 EST
The Great Hall of the seat of the Yransea Barony was as quiet as it could be with forty-five people seated at long tables. A shift of cloth was as loud as a crash of swords. Sylvia watched those gathered with a cool gaze. She wanted them to twitch, to be unnerved. She sat before them alive when all thought her dead to the world, last seen with the shafts of three arrows pinning her back like some absurd pin cushion. Rumors danced about that she was not the true Sylvia Nightshade, mother Baroness to the Baron of Yransea, but an abhorrent doppelganger created in that Rhydin. Other such perverse rumors had chased about the town with the assistance of the visiting lords and merchants. Sylvia wanted them to see her and think on those rumors. The hall sat in tainted silence, and all eyes were on her.

To add to the unease, one of their numbers was gone from their table replaced by Captain Gaerwyn Caisson. That the Baron Galwyn had hired the attackers was as common knowledge that the sun rises every morning. He and his family taken to the crown to answer for the crimes, Gaerwyn was in a seat once held by a traitor and the meaning was more than clear to those that remained. Treachery would gain nothing but an easy replacement with someone trusted by Yransea. Yransea would impose its power when forced, and it would be best for those not to play against that power.

Such a message was spoken in the entirety of the room. Banners of the other lords stood behind the banners of Yransea, where once before they had been lined according to arrival and Yransea had placed its banner last in respect of its guests. Now, the banner also hung at the beginning of the fabric parade. Patterns and hints of the Yransea arms dotted the landscape, but no symbol was more powerful than Sylvia seated in her chair wearing the formal attire and the coronet upon her dark hair flashed its message: do not test me.

Prince Maelgwn had condoned and even suggested some measures of this show. His countenance was just as severe, and he watched the nobles and merchants do their little dances of unease in their chairs. Only Captain Caisson was peaceful, his face unreadable, but he did not move a twitch but his eyes glanced over the hall?s populace much as Maelgwn?s did.

In relief, Maelgwn gave a nod to Sylvia and she spoke. ?Let us return to the matters before us, for they are of importance that affect beyond borders of baronies, but to the people of Palendies. I am Sylvia, Baroness of Yransea, born of the manor Nightshade in foreign lands. My son is not with us today, for the words to be spoken will be swift and harsh. We will drop the delicacies and speak plainly. Time has wasted away in the futile attempt to caste the Yransea family from their rightful place.? In the ease of court, the practice of change in her tempo, her smile curved her lips for the first time in that hall that day. ?My good sirs and gentle lords, let us see to the greatness of our nation and meet over measures allowing that greatness to continue.?

There was no person there that would deny that mutual goal, and with rounds of nods and calls of agreement, they set to the conflicts of their business and easing the ways to improve trade and relations between the landed lords and the growing power of the merchant class.

Gaerwyn Caisson

Date: 2008-03-03 12:47 EST
Morning turned towards noon and the shadows formed in the rafters and along the walls of the great hall. Gaerwyn kept his silence unless prompted to speak, for he felt he traveled unmapped waters. He was a man of caution when the seas were uncharted, and without the previous days deliberations witnessed, no matter how many weeks ago, he still had to catch up to them all.

Most of the merchants he knew in some fashion; some by name only, and others through business dealings. A few he had gleaned some joy in seeing them squirm under the Baroness?s gaze. He doubted they had any hand in the attack upon her children, but he knew for certain some of their trade practices were less than reputable. It was a note he would share with Sylvia and His Highness later.

Of one thing, Gaerwyn begrudgingly held true: he was fortunate that Kieran and Sylvia had been and are his lieges. It was good fortune that his cousin was a trusted servant, and that trust bled over to him. A trust he was not about to test or tarnish. He kept his eyes sharp and ears open to looks and comments exchanged. The value of his presence was beyond example for others, but to be a spy in the open. Doubtful others would speak to him openly, unless they spoke in good faith or they thought to fool him. It was all the roles of the game, one he had avoided most carefully until now.

His Baroness had called him to serve. He would do his best.

?If the lords have the right to raise those taxes without input from the guild, we could all be broke within months!? A merchant grumbled for the twentieth time.

?What good would that do us? We cannot tax what does not profit,? Lord Liamsson countered, his voice carrying over similar denials.

Sylvia frowned and shook her head. ?Mutual endeavors are what work best, not just taxing the profits of another. Though,? she continued without allowing rebuttal, ?I do tax the merchants with the input and advice of the merchant guild. We all have advisors, my lords, and the merchants? guild along with its member guilds are advisors as well. They cannot make a profit in a land poorly managed, and you cannot manage your lands if your people cannot afford their basic needs.?

It was simple logic, none refuted it, all knew it, but so easily was it cast aside when such negotiations came to bear. The rumblings were low and conciliatory, but it was then that a door to the back corner of the hall opened. Sylvia did not look as the person approached from behind and whispered to her. Gaerwyn watched the merchants and lords start their murmuring exchanges. Sylvia spoke up over the rising din. ?It is time we took the midday break and fed our stomachs so that they do not start to speak up their disappointments in addition.? Her smile allowed the remark to be taken in a light hearted manner, and many gave a chuckle to her words.

Trays of food came to line sideboards and decanters of drink offered by passing servants to each in their order. In addition, Mistress Buie entered and took seat in a corner with a smallish instrument. The quiet tuning, Gaerwyn could not hear, but her voice joined into a melody with the instrument, and he felt at ease in his the company. His neighbor spoke over the trenchers of meat, cheese, and fruits with him about latest ports open of the changing weather, and his opposite neighbor joined in to the elements of taxing and how it was too true they had to remember what effects one effects all.

The entire room took to the general discussions most vital to their own purpose, and all accepted with easy grace and decorum. Gaerwyn looked from Kiema to Sylvia, and caught the Baroness?s impish smile. The woman had planned it well, and he knew once again how lucky he was. He lifted his cup to salute her, and her smile broadened.

Kiema Buie

Date: 2008-03-03 16:07 EST
Kiema dressed in muted greys and kept the ribbons from her hair. Her purpose in the great hall was to seek out the feelings of others, count the emotions against the persons, and in some small way soothe and entertain the guests binding them together with an undercurrent of common feeling. She did not desire nor need to distract them or garner their attention.

The threads of gift ribboned out from her to touch each person as tenderly as she touched the strings upon the vihuela. A first choice of song was an old traditional tune, her attention able to drift away as her voice joined up the melody released by the instrument to the air. In that manner, she felt the vibrations of her gift reveal the temperaments of the guests.

Foremost, the number matched the number seen. No one was hiding in shadows or secret crevices to strike. Kiema, as others, had been certain there would not be, but she was not about to add her name to the list of follies. As melodies held marks of the performer, no matter how well known the tune, so, too did each man?s emotions though of the same song hold distinct elements of their own. The matching timbres of the lords and the counter melodies of the merchants were of their own grouping chorusing well among themselves. To turn those melodies into harmonies would take longer days and more hours, of that Kiema was certain, but she sensed not outright discord.

Meal came and went and as her purpose ebbed away, so did her last song. It was a song of journeys, travel, and the seeking of home. The encouragement would add like a strong breeze to sails, the desire to meet at an agreement sooner than later. She strummed into quiet, letting the chords lessen on their own without her stopping them. They called into the future against the straining of ears guessing to their final sounding.

She rose and gave courtesy to those that hailed their gratitude of her playing, then a subtle nod to Sylvia as she went on to the door. As she departed, she heard the lady call the meeting back into session. It would be a few more hours before the private meeting with the Baroness and her advisors. Kiema turned her attention to that free time and setting the vihuela to her back, took direction for town.

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-03-04 12:19 EST
Sylvia was surprised to find Keefe waiting in the common area of the family rooms. He had been pacing, the motion brought to an abrupt stop when she entered after the lengthy day in the great hall. His manner was stiff, hands clasped behind him. Sylvia crossed to the door that led to the nursery, looking over her shoulder to him. ?Lord Keefe, you seem distressed.?

?Not distressed, my lady,? he corrected crisply.

The intention to check on her children was to be delayed some moments longer, this much was clear. Sylvia turned back from the door and motioned for Keefe to sit. ?To avoid the guess and denial game, will you sit and tell me what is wrong??

?I would rather stand, my lady.?

Her temper was getting the better of her, and if this was the way he wanted to approach whatever was troubling him, then she would match him. She sat, cooling her features, sharp eyed gaze on him. ?Then speak your grievance, sir.?

?Why was I kept from the negotiations today? Specifically ordered to stay away by the Prince.?

A single slender raven brow rose. ?The order came from His Highness, and yet you come to complain to me? I wonder at your purpose.?

?It must have been your decision.? He countered.

?Must, is it? If it had been my decision, I would have told you, sir. I do not need to hide behind the Prince.?

?Your decisions hold no weight over me, my lady.? The lack of threat in his words, but the simple statement of fact, took away her ability to mock him. He knew it too well.

Sylvia was too tired to play the game. ?I have my children to see, and if you have troubles with the Prince?s decision,? she stressed the title, ?then take the matter to him.? To break the conversation she rose and moved again for the door.

?Is it because you have come to rely on me too much?? He cast to her back. ?Afraid what that might mean??

There was laughter threatening to burst free, and she held it back by sheer will. When she felt control of her emotions, she turned back to face him. ?Don?t be absurd. You are here by the will of King Rhodri to assist my son in ruling lands entrusted to him and his family. By rights I am supposed to rely on you for that,? she felt the sting of his insinuation sharpen her gaze, ?and that alone. Be my friend or be my enemy, sir, the choice is yours.? She saw the red flush his neck, whether in anger or embarrassment, she had no desire to discover. ?Your grievance is with Prince Maelgwn, as the decisions was fully, rightly, his.?

Leaving him there, she stepped on through to the nursery and basked in the welcoming, pure love of her children. No intrigues or court craft in that room, only the stories of simple games, adventures of the imagination, and hope of time together.

SylviaNightshade

Date: 2008-03-09 18:07 EST
?Copies of the agreements to this council and chambers have been set before all of you. Read them carefully before we all reach an accord and can call this council to closer at the signing of the document.? They were words Sylvia had wanted to say for days.

Gaerwyn could not have been more relieved that this merry-go-round of politics had finished. He had a wedding to plan, a family to see, and a business to run all before the coming of spring when travel would take him from his family and new bride all too often. Still, he took his matter seriously, and reviewed the contents of the pages, hand copied by scribes, with sober judgment.

Sylvia read the articles over again, nothing to fault as yet. Maelgwn tapped her shoulder and leaned in to whisper. ?Cian needs to be here.?

A nod, she motioned to a guard by the back door and relayed the message that her son should be brought from his moment of being a child to witness the workings of adults once again. It stung deep in the center of her, but that was a feeling she had gotten far too accustomed to existing.

The sound of rustling papers, whispered exchanges, and coughs clearing throats prickled the silence of the room. Cian came in, head held higher than it should, but he was putting on his bravest face. A small step stool helped him sit upon what was once his father?s chair. Sylvia recalled all too clearly demolishing the smaller chair meant to hold him, and she had to force a smile to her son and turn away more quickly than she should to read the remaining papers.

Cian?s arrival brought up the heads of several, including Gaerwyn?s. He sent the young boy an encouraging smile and looked to Sylvia. He doubted much if he could imagine what she was going through. If Gaer was to take over his business, it would be impossible, but much more was expected of Cian and he had started on that path early in his life. His path stretched out before him, where Gaer had choice in front of him. It weighed heavily on Gaerwyn?s heart that realization, and he turned from it to the pages in front of him.

As hours went by, Sylvia saw most were rising to get a bit of food or refill the drinks on their own. ?Are there corrections to be made?? A few heads nodded, and she called on one after another, as typos and corrections, nothing requiring debate were brought up and made.

Maelgwn gave his nod at the last one and announced. ?We will take this accord to the King and his council will review it. The time you all have spent in this venture is a worthy expense to the future of our country and future generations. May you all journey home safely.? He rose, Cian and Sylvia followed suit along with the rest of the gathering. Another nod to Cian, who bowed and his mother curtsied, and the Prince of Palendies departed the room.

Sylvia left with Cian in front of her. He looked over his shoulder to her, and she gave a smile. He smiled back. It was done.