[b]Robena[/b]

You hear the hunting party long before you see them. A horn sounded in the distance halts you amidst the snowy forest trail, evoking long-past memories of the thrill of the chase. Then there is the low thundering of hoofbeats, the clapping of swords on shields to chase the beast, and the merry jingling of saddle and harness in the crisp winter air. 

The party is not large. The lead knight, obviously the lady of the castle, rides a white courser, wearing a tabard bearing a green tree upon a snowy white background with gold thread woven in around the border, the symbol of the forest in which you now find yourself. She is accompanied by a three other knights wearing similar tabards without the gold: one tall and dour lady with long raven hair, one short and stocky man with a jovial smile and blond hair pulled into a ponytail, and one earnest young woman with tousled brown hair and blue eyes that mirror the sky. They in turn each have a page and a footman accompanying them, the footmen carrying drums and bells, and the pages banging on their wooden shields. a handful of hounds are panting alongside the horses, held on leashes, steam coming off them. 

The party rounds a bend in the trail and comes upon you all at once, drawing up short, reigning in their horses, and ceasing, for the moment, their noise-making, save for the panting dogs.

"Ho, mendicant knight" calls the leader, recognizing your attire. "Have you seen a fox pass you by in these woods?"

[b]Constance and Tristan[/b]

The Lady nods at Constance, and then barks out a surprised laugh at Tristan's addition, a sound she's clearly unaccustomed to making. It reminds you vaguely of King Pellinore, though you never heard her laugh during your hunt. "Yes, we have musicians, though little call for them. Still, we will not be said here at Castle Sauvage to deny our guests hospitality." She looks to one of the retainers below her dais, a stocky man with a blond ponytail and gives a single clap. He nods and steps from the room, returning a moment later with a young woman with unkempt brown hair and sky blue eyes. She's carrying a lute, though she looks rather hesitant. 

The Lady Sauvage speaks: "Sir Liana, a song for our guests, if you please."

Then the young knight strikes a chord on her lyre. Though you might have hoped for joyous entertainment, Tristan, what you hear is a minor key, and she launches into a poem of times long past.

[i]In olden times, there once stood Rome, who held our land in sway.
And over all an emperor, who ruled from far away.
In golden times, the city shone, a bright and shining gem,
her hills and rivers sparkling, her holy temples solemn.
But mortal was her emperor, who passed beyond the veil,
and mortal still the next in line, until the line did fail.

Her soldiers once were once pious men, loyal, strong and true.
They came to great Britannia, up from the seas of blue.
They came among the forests, and cleared the land to stay.
They built among the giants and bargained with the fae.
But bargains from a distant lord could never hope to last,
Gone as the line imperial, her knights could not hold fast.

Her promises were filled with hope, a golden age's vision.
They offered us a greater place, a land without division.
The ladies loved her offer, the knights they loved her dream
the druids heard her singing, and the priests her song did sing.
But soon there was disharmony, and quickly then decay, 
As empty forts and barren keeps each turned to fade away.

Her power was of many gods, some greater and some small,
this too was her failure, and cause of her great fall.
For never pleased are many gods, demanding each their due,
Until at last their offers end, protections turn untrue.
Here we act more kindly, sharing with our neighbors,
Not gods are they, but fairer folk, who do their share of labors.

Her lands were rich and wealthy, her farmers hale and strong.
But as her days were waning, their strength too was not long.
Her throne beset by warfare, her generals lost to greed,
Her people fought amongst themselves, and no one stood to lead.
Thus do we remember, a kingdom that once was,
imperial its vision, but mortal still its cause.
[/i]