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Yes. Don't choke.
Isolde opened the door to her chambers. Her eyes widened as she received the news of several riders.
She squinted, and bit her finger in thought. There was no way these were scouts for a war band. She wouldn't be alive if her brother had desired to kill her.
Unless he'd learned about the mercenaries. The news spreading so quickly was alarming enough, but if her brother so much as smelled a rebellion, he'd send more than enough soldiers to crush them. Still, her troop was small. If she was careful, she could send them away without alarm. Cogs turned in her head, and she removed her finger, adopting a kind smile.
"You are to send one man to approach these riders. They are emissaries of my brother, the king, and should be invited inside as guests. I will speak to them personally, and assure my little brother of my safety. Your duty is to decide who greets them." she said, speaking in her soft, gentle voice.
"Oh, one more thing. Under no circumstances are you to discuss your employment, or any employees of the castle, for that matter. Should they ask any questions, tell them only that you are but a servant, but that I would be glad to answer any questions they have." her eyes narrowed.
"We have nothing to hide, so we will send them away thinking we're happy in our little woodland cottage. I ask only that you remember that even the finest sword can be crushed by a thousand rusted spears. Choose your rider carefully; he must show greater humility than even you display before me."
She turned, and nodded to Theodore and Guinan, giving her cheeriest smile.
"You two seem like a disciplined sort. Kind sirs, would you help me make sure the castle is ready for our guests? I need your men awake, and presentable. Armors polished, standing at attention. We also need to get rid of the, er.... guests you invited last night, and also have food and wine for three men prepared."
She squinted, and bit her finger in thought. There was no way these were scouts for a war band. She wouldn't be alive if her brother had desired to kill her.
Unless he'd learned about the mercenaries. The news spreading so quickly was alarming enough, but if her brother so much as smelled a rebellion, he'd send more than enough soldiers to crush them. Still, her troop was small. If she was careful, she could send them away without alarm. Cogs turned in her head, and she removed her finger, adopting a kind smile.
"You are to send one man to approach these riders. They are emissaries of my brother, the king, and should be invited inside as guests. I will speak to them personally, and assure my little brother of my safety. Your duty is to decide who greets them." she said, speaking in her soft, gentle voice.
"Oh, one more thing. Under no circumstances are you to discuss your employment, or any employees of the castle, for that matter. Should they ask any questions, tell them only that you are but a servant, but that I would be glad to answer any questions they have." her eyes narrowed.
"We have nothing to hide, so we will send them away thinking we're happy in our little woodland cottage. I ask only that you remember that even the finest sword can be crushed by a thousand rusted spears. Choose your rider carefully; he must show greater humility than even you display before me."
She turned, and nodded to Theodore and Guinan, giving her cheeriest smile.
"You two seem like a disciplined sort. Kind sirs, would you help me make sure the castle is ready for our guests? I need your men awake, and presentable. Armors polished, standing at attention. We also need to get rid of the, er.... guests you invited last night, and also have food and wine for three men prepared."
Isolde found herself smiling through her teeth as the raucous bunch partied away their meal. Though she herself did enjoy celebration, she'd just recently lost her crown, her home, and hired only a meager defense of fifty people for garrison against the entire royal army. This wasn't a time for celebration before she'd even made certain she wouldn't wake to find an army at her doorstep.
For God's sake, they'd even brought their own personal bards.
She made a mental note to have guards escort the prostitutes off the premises in the morning. After this, she'd probably have to get rid of extra servants as well, unfortunate but necessary expenditures as they were. She only hoped the mercs she'd hired were actual professionals.
In the meantime, she eyed over her bodyguards for any noteworthy members. The one that stood out most was arguably the stark naked savage. Isolde wasn't actually sure whether he was a soldier at first. She'd read stories of mad warriors who were brave enough to fight with exposed loins, but this was her first time seeing one. He was probably their strongest warrior. An excellent champion, should the need arise.
The second one to catch her eye was an especially old man with a snowy white beard. He seemed rather disgruntled, perhaps a little depressed, not speaking with anyone. Still, to have fought as long as him without dying or retiring meant he must have easily been the most experienced warrior. She wondered why he wasn't this army's commander. He still had enough of an air about him to be worth talking to later, at least.
And then there was their leader, a man introduced to her as "Gnarl". Isolde noted him as a haughty man. Of course she'd knighted none of them, and working for her did not equate to knighthood. That wasn't an honor she'd freely pass away. His speeches could have used some work as well.
The rest of their band were a collection of gritty, metal covered men and women. In all, they appeared to be an ornery band of ruffians intent on blowing their money before marching to their deaths at her brother's hands. But they were her ruffians now, and she wouldn't allow that. Isolde leaned back, and entwined her fingers. By God she'd find a way to get her crown back, and she'd do it with the sweat, blood, and plenty of tears from these men.
Isolde spent the rest of the evening in silence, watching the party with a soft, if troubled smile.
The queen picked her head up off the desk in her quarters, one strewed with ledgers, papers, notes and books. She pulled a piece of parchments off her face, and recognized it by the list of staff cuts she'd written down the night before. She'd have to announce them that afternoon. Isolde leaned back in her chair, and put on a pair of reading glasses. She supposed there'd be time to alter it with reason, but doubted anything notable would happen by then.
Still, she thought, the remaining staff might be disheartened by learning they were being fired for being lazy and promiscuous. She just couldn't afford poor workers at this rate however; her coffers were finite.
Steadying her resolve, Isolde stood up, and gave a big smile as she pounded a fist in her palm. Every day from now would be a scramble to get keep this castle in perfect shape!
For God's sake, they'd even brought their own personal bards.
She made a mental note to have guards escort the prostitutes off the premises in the morning. After this, she'd probably have to get rid of extra servants as well, unfortunate but necessary expenditures as they were. She only hoped the mercs she'd hired were actual professionals.
In the meantime, she eyed over her bodyguards for any noteworthy members. The one that stood out most was arguably the stark naked savage. Isolde wasn't actually sure whether he was a soldier at first. She'd read stories of mad warriors who were brave enough to fight with exposed loins, but this was her first time seeing one. He was probably their strongest warrior. An excellent champion, should the need arise.
The second one to catch her eye was an especially old man with a snowy white beard. He seemed rather disgruntled, perhaps a little depressed, not speaking with anyone. Still, to have fought as long as him without dying or retiring meant he must have easily been the most experienced warrior. She wondered why he wasn't this army's commander. He still had enough of an air about him to be worth talking to later, at least.
And then there was their leader, a man introduced to her as "Gnarl". Isolde noted him as a haughty man. Of course she'd knighted none of them, and working for her did not equate to knighthood. That wasn't an honor she'd freely pass away. His speeches could have used some work as well.
The rest of their band were a collection of gritty, metal covered men and women. In all, they appeared to be an ornery band of ruffians intent on blowing their money before marching to their deaths at her brother's hands. But they were her ruffians now, and she wouldn't allow that. Isolde leaned back, and entwined her fingers. By God she'd find a way to get her crown back, and she'd do it with the sweat, blood, and plenty of tears from these men.
Isolde spent the rest of the evening in silence, watching the party with a soft, if troubled smile.
The queen picked her head up off the desk in her quarters, one strewed with ledgers, papers, notes and books. She pulled a piece of parchments off her face, and recognized it by the list of staff cuts she'd written down the night before. She'd have to announce them that afternoon. Isolde leaned back in her chair, and put on a pair of reading glasses. She supposed there'd be time to alter it with reason, but doubted anything notable would happen by then.
Still, she thought, the remaining staff might be disheartened by learning they were being fired for being lazy and promiscuous. She just couldn't afford poor workers at this rate however; her coffers were finite.
Steadying her resolve, Isolde stood up, and gave a big smile as she pounded a fist in her palm. Every day from now would be a scramble to get keep this castle in perfect shape!
So, in light of recent edits, am I in yet?
I might be busy until after the eighth, but I'll keep an eye on this.
"....Fuck." James said, closing the book.
"It's some kind of anatomical guide. Nothing of note." he told Anya. Whatever book that man was looking for was well hidden, more so than the bottle, if Anya could find it. Unless....
"Anya, you sniffed out this fingerpaint, right? Think you can help me find that book?" he asked.
"It's some kind of anatomical guide. Nothing of note." he told Anya. Whatever book that man was looking for was well hidden, more so than the bottle, if Anya could find it. Unless....
"Anya, you sniffed out this fingerpaint, right? Think you can help me find that book?" he asked.
You didn't offend me, but you keep misunderstanding my intentions. You make it sound like I need someone who's already done amazing things, but I want this to be the amazing thing she's done. She's [/b]supposed[/b] to be green with few if any notches on her belt, someone who's gotten into a bad situation and needs to overcome it with wit and guile and guts. Moreover, there's exceedingly little I could include in her backstory that could live up to having your crown usurped and being exiled from your own kingdom.
Wait, fuck.
Am I in or not?
Am I in or not?
"Whup, found something." James said, removing the book from its slot.
He peeled back the cover, and began to skim its contents. Whatever this book had, it was probably important.
He peeled back the cover, and began to skim its contents. Whatever this book had, it was probably important.
Of course they do. There is always use for soldiers with this sort of thing. I just have to be careful how I use them.
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