#baronyofthesilverwolf

"His base needs should be well provided for via the Lodge. The Chieftain and I have an understanding."

"A hound perhaps? They had them in plenty when I visited last year." A small frown.

"Yes," A nod "And the Chieftain provides them. But if i might, lord? As much as I might covet your bear dogs, the Lodge IS provided for" Wistful "But, 'in her abscence' I am curious. Your son, you keep him at a distance. Why then recognize his squiring at all? Beyond mere formality? I have an idea, but first I am curious and would have you indulge my curiousity."

His hand goes to tap on the desktop, and he stops that with a small frown. "He is my son." He offers, as explanation enough.

"You are wounded" She does not mean the hand "And you do not wish to be wounded again. Well my House understands that, Baron. Ask me of the House's founder sometime if you know not the story. " A sigh "Better to hold reserve my peers say, to never fully thaw. Very well. I think one of your ideas has merit. You clearly care for steeds and fine hounds, they are your passion. Your art. You mentioned getting the boy a mount yes?"

A frown - something she says doesn't seem to ring true, based on his expression. But he does not correct her. He finds himself watching the curve of her chin, the way the hair curls around it just so, as she speaks.

"Whether or not I have any desire of it, he is my blood. I will provide for him, but there is no place for him here. It is... not a place for children to grow, and flourish. Especially one that is locked in time, and that I cannot love." A glance at her. "Certainly a Varich will understand that."

"I do, and I say this without insult to you, I think he is better at the lodge. You trusted wisely. But you want him provided for waht would be his due here as much as possible. You mentioned a mount. You will think me opportunistic, but I know the ideal one"

He looks at her with curiosity. Fingers steepled together as he leans in - ouch. He just drops his hands to his side, and watches her. "Name it."

"The boy needs experience in raising a steed from the start. He needs a mount worthy of your son but one he can appreciate the full cycle of. One he might one say use as the sire or dam to his own stables. Dame Dagmar's Star has a foal on the way. You have right of first bid if the horse is sold. I would say if you yielded up that right, I would be able to encouarge Dagmar to give the foal to him to care for. From a man like you, there could be no grander gesture. The boy would be delighted be on all words just to have the foal around for good. He lives to please others and he knows it would make Dame Dagmar happy as well. You wanted to impress the Hammer Strike, you wished to find him something suitable that he would favor? You want a gesture that even the Gwydion will grant you renown for? This is your chance fall of trhose in one motion. Release your claim as a gift."

He frowns. Even distracted, he is not a dim-witted man, and he clearly sees the maneuvering here. "Why is the Dame... or are you, for that matter... so concerned over the sale rights on an unproven foal?"

"Because I see conflict may arise from you insisting on the sales rights when it would be so counterproductive. I do not know if the foal will be a gem, or a lump, though I suspect from sire and dam quite the gem. Further, at risk of sharing too much, Dame Dagmar is my friend. So yes, I do this to keep her from sorrow. She did not put me up to this. She's a troll, and direct even by that kith's standards. When I say she moves in straight lines, I mean respecting the durablity of walls is considered optional to her." Frustrated fondness "You are an Ailil, you nderstand move and counter move, check and mate. While she is no dullard, far from it, Dame Hammerstrike is no chess player nor is she inclined to be. Further, you asked and I see the solution... they are as attached to their horses as you. You saw it yourself. No gesture to make a bridge to Dame Hammerstrike can do more than this. And Connor would far prefer a young small life to nuture to a sharp blade. I am not 'concerned' lord, not in desparing if you refuse. But in this I see so very clearly the benefits to everyone's advantage that yes, I do have passion for it."

He listens to this all. "Baroness, it is late, and I would consult one of my advisers before coming to a decision. Would you accept the courtesy of our Barony for a night? We can provide you with transport back to Rivervale on the morrow."

"I shall let Rivervale know I am well, and here for the night. " A pause "Baron, whatever you decide, know they did not suspect I would be mentioning THAT part as a gift. How could they? That is , for good or ill, entirely my suggestion. Also, if there is time? However it turns out?" A breath "I would dearly love to see the litter you mentioned earlier when you feel they can be shown."

A small smile. "In the morning, then. They are sleeping now. And their mother is as yet, still too protective." He stands, bowing to her, and offers his (uninjured) arm. "Come, let me escort you back to the Manor."

She takes his arm, and turns the subject to something he might like more "I confess, I thought you would prefer Irish Wolfhounds. The Celtic links?" And she will talk dogs with him as he likes

"You did your research," He accuses, but lightly. "I started out with irish wolfhounds. But in the years, I've expanded for what areas have interest... you would not believe how much call there is for fae hounds of different breeds, even labradors..." And she is escorted.

And Calanthe? Well, she's left to stay there, or make her own way home, sans mount, as she pleases.

(End scene)

Nadeen has to confess, she rather enjoyed the idle chit chat as the evening closed. The real important thing was trying to get the baron to see the logic of the deal after she had taken such a chance on honesty, but the man clearly did love dogs and it brought out an energy in him she found rather endearing. NOt for the first time, she's glad of Dagmar's influence. She has always liked dogs herself, so obedient compared to other animals that require a dictum half the time. Clothes, well, she had a change with her, of course, but a wardrobe has been provided, and she makes use of it. Dressing in a a similar style though not identically to Dahlia as was seen on some of those portraits.

In the morning, she awakens to the sound of soft conversation just outside her cracked door.

"Do you think thhe's thupposed to be here? If thhe's not, that's an intruder and I'm allowed to bite her." A lisped voice.
"Hush now, Briar-rose. The sun is rising." A rather lyrical, lilting voice in reply.
"I'm juth THAYING, I could, ith all..."
"You've had breakfast already, and seconds besides. No flower grows here without the Lord's eyes..."

"If you're going to gossip outside my door you might as well come in so I can at least hear it clearly, please" A soft laugh. Dahlia treated the staff with kindness. I must also. Well, that won't be hard. A life among trolls has softened me to the point where my winter of discontent is actually more of a cozy Autumn with hot coco. A mental sigh.

A silence for a moment, perhaps surprised to have been heard. Then the door is pushed open, and a pooka wilder with long, velvety brown ears and a redcap wildling - perhaps a little younger than Gerd's age, just on the cusp between child and teen, peer in curiously at her.

"We have visitors, again. Two in one month, a banner day, and regal this time, I do say. I shall alert the heralds to sound the trumpets." Says the pooka, bowing low to the Baroness.
The redcap frowns. "I gueth that meanth I'm not allowed to fight you. If you're a vithitor." Hr voice oddly muffled by braces that look half steampunk, half barbed wire.

"Thank you," She says to the redcap, "The blood would ruin this lovely dress, I'm sure you are the sort who goes for maximum spread of such. " ANd to the pooka "Oh please don't trouble yourself about the trumpets, it's still early in the morning and I have a bit of time. I'm Baroness Nadeen Dancingsnow, acting Envoy from Rivervale Lodge. I am awaiting the Baron's ..consultation with another before I head home but I shall not be underfoot too long. You two are?" Coaxing

"A rose by any other name is still as sharp, and I am no one if the bells are not ringing..." The pooka smiles.
The redcap girl rolls her eyes. "I'm Briar, and this dumb bunny is Bluebell. If you come to breakfast they might give me another plate. I knew thomething was up when the boss came back early and they tharted making breakfast. And queen bitch ith in a tizzy."

Bluebell shakes her head at the Redcap. "Rosey-posey, watch your tongue. A sharper one will cut even you." Her voice lowered, encouraging the same.

"Well, if it will help keep you from famine," Nadeen says "Though my Gwydion friends might worry I need a food taster in an Ailil hold. Seelie to the bone most of them and with some concerns"

"The only poison is on her tongue, and more bitter for all that no one wishes a taste. Please, if you would, Baroness, walk this way?" Perhaps meant literally, as the pooka rises to her tip toes, pirouettes, and leads the way. The Redcap trails after. "You're not imprethhing anyone."

"You're very kind, Bluebell. Now, Briar, tell me if you would, what do you two do for the Hold? Am I talking to heralds or advisors? If you have a title or position I want to make sure I'm not mistepping"

"I ain't got a job. They took me in becauthe no one elthe would have me." She juts out her chin, as though taking pride in that. "I'm a BITER, and bitter, and thornth all through. If you weren't a guetht, I'd have done for you too." Shorter than Nadeen, but she tries to puff up her chest.

Bluebell claps appreciatively. "A rhyme, a marvelous rhyme. Heralds and advisors all, those are most needed when company comes to call. We run a quiet household here, scarcely do we need to put on a party gown, much to my Fair Lady's distress. I would play the trumpet for you, if you would but let me. In the lack thereof, you may name me Harold, though it is not so fragrant as my other title. Flower bloom yet from the garden our true lady planted." She pauses to give a deep curtsey to a sculpture in an alcove - somewhat abstract, but it still shows the curved form of a woman, and elements of flowers springing free.

"I believe you," Nadeen says "We a redcap Peacekeeper. Some might mock him, but never to his face lest he rip theirs off. The world needs thorns, else greedy hands would take beauty for granted. What's beauty without a blood price?"

And then she looks at Bluebell, "Well, I wont' call you Harry, just seems rude and your'e not that hirsuite. " humor, "Thank you, Bluebell, " She looks at the statue

Like so many of the other pieces of artwork, it has a theme feminine and delicate, yet with the flowers flowing away and fading, this one is somehow poignant as well.

"I thank you, Baroness, my tail is a puff but my ears only velvet, I do not care to be an overgrown beast." Bluebell strokes one of her ears, and leads on.

Led to a chamber set for a meal - tea and coffee both hot and iced, small sandwiches, fruit fresh and tarts, mini quiches, poached eggs in egg cups of silver, smoked lox and cream cheese, juices and champagne. A light and delectable brunch repast for a hot day. More of a spread than an single guest may warrant, but it seems that they aimed for variety, not knowing her tastes.

The Baron sits, waiting - a coffee cup before him, but he hasn't started yet. He is much cleaned up from the night before. Dressed appropriately to a casual, yet classy meal, in voile that shows his colors and station. His arm is bandaged, and hand shows a hint of purple, knuckles swollen.

His hair brushed and pulled back in a tail, no less handsome though no longer with the hint of boyish charm when the locks had sprung loose around his face. A more somber, business-like approach.

A pity. she finds herself thinking I rather liked the boyish charm but he is still handsome. Her own poise is regal, but she allows just enough warmth to get out of her eyes as she sees the food and gazes upon the man, she curtseys, not because he is superior rank, but as he is host. "Good morning, Baron. "

He rises when he sees them enter, and bows to the Baroness.

"The sun has risen and shines upon us all, come to dance at your breakfast ball." Bluebell chirrups, and Aiden shows a hint of a smile as he nods to the pooka. "Bluebell... and Briar? I trust you didn't bother the Baroness." A glance to Nadeen as well to see her feedback.

"On the contrary, while Brair is quite fierce, I feel all the more secure knowing that should trouble come she will most likely make it run for its life. As for Bluebell, she's been quite charming. It is too soon to heap praise upon them, but I find them rather enjoyable. " SHe waits by a chair, allowing him a chance to pull it for her but does not insist

He has already moved to do so and slides out the chair, carefully pushing it in just so. He may not entertain often, but he has not forgotten his etiquette.

Nodding to her response, he looks to the two. "Thank you for escorting the Baroness. Please see Marigold, she has several more courses than I think we can do justice to. I would speak with the Baroness for a time." Thus inviting them to enjoy the repast, but ensuring their privacy. Briar pointedly reaches out to grab an egg off the table, crunching it shells and all, and Bluebell mops her brow in faux mortification, gently shooing the 'cap out and closing the door behind.

A smile and nod at the departing two

"Pardon. Even fair soil does not always grow a... cultured bloom, though she has improved muchly since coming to us." He remarks softly as to the Redcap. "Did you sleep well?"

Offering to pour her tea, or a drink.

"I did most soundly," She admits and nods at the offer of a tea. "Thank you, Baron. How's the litter this morning?"

He smiles. "Filled with vigor, and they've been fed and will be ready for a romp after breakfast. If you still wish to see them?"

He pours tea for them both, from the same pot, and allows her to choose her cup. Both cream and sugar added to his, and offered to her.

"I do," she admits "Whatever your choice on the other matter, I have to confess there is something in my soul that smiles at the breed's very name. We sidhe are," A pause "Forever in a dance with memories and times lost as you know. It pulls us in, and then we spin out again...sometimes I think no one ever really leaves the time of legends, a bit of us is forever a happy prisoner." She picks the more feminine cup and also takes cream and sugar, not too heavy. "When I arrived, I was baffled at this autumn world not being at all like it should be. I knew I had been warned, and yet, it was so very much a let down. Like coming back to an old neighborhood you hadn't seen since you were a child and discovering it had gone woefully down hill"

A soft sigh as he stirs his tea cup. "We all must be cursed to remember the beauty we once had, that has forever slipped our grasp."

He sips his tea, then sets the cup down. "I have thought over your request. Baroness, pray that I do not offend thee, but the details of such contracts are not often well studied outside of the industry. Do you know why such a clause is standard in most stablery and kennel transfer contracts?"

"I do not" she admits "And am not insulted in the slightest at your kind offer of education in this matter"

He nods, and continues, explaining without a patronizing air.

"Partly to ensure that we have an interest in the lineage, but also as a safety measure. Moreso for our guardian and hunting hounds, but also our warhorses, and fae steeds. We take responsibility for the strength and power we have built into their lines, and if one were to breed from our stock, and then use the beasts in... improper circumstances? A single Ovcharka can defeat a bear - imagine several bred to fight, and turned on an enemy hold. Stallions bred to bear one into battle can trample a dozen mortals and dodge capture with ease, possessing of nearly human-level intellect in our finest lines. The possibilities are dire, and thus, we protect our interests both in following the lineage, AND as a responsibility that the scions of our lines not be used for ill that will reflect poorly on hold and holder alike. Not to mention the potential for mistreatment at the hands of those who would not see the value in animals touched by da'an."

She nods, listening attentitively.