Syrenrei

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

With the fire started, Silke rolled back on her heels and stared at the flickering flames. The Kaspers had several servants whose duties were exclusively tending the estate lands. For some of them they had mundane tasks that were typical of a nobleman's home: cultivating a flower garden, maintaining a vegetable patch for fresh produce, trimming overgrown hedges, and the like. Others had more uncommon responsibilities that included pruning and re-clearing the paths through the forest, tracking the predator population of the woods, gathering medicinal herbs that grew in the thickets, or cleaning and provisioning the cabin. Firewood was regularly chopped to fuel the cabin's hearth, neatly stacked both beside it and in a storage closet towards the rear of the tiny house.

Shivering as a chill passed through her, she pulled the ribbons and pins out of her hair, and shook the long lockets free. While she wasn't quite certain what (if anything) she wanted to do about her clothes, she could at least do something about her hair, which was so long and thick it seemed to have absorbed a gallon of rain from their short jaunt to the cabin. Standing and walking to the kitchen, she leaned over the sink as she squeezed and wrung the water out of her hair until it was merely damp as opposing to sopping wet. Satisfied at the difference it made, she made her way back to the hearth and sat as close was as safe, enjoying the warmth that was beginning to spread from the fire.

The more she thought about it, the more she realized how unlikely it was that she'd find any fresh, dry clothing in the cabin suitable for her to change into. She wasn't opposed to wearing men's attire. Despite how carefully she curated her image for the courts, she didn't particularly care about looking pretty. With Galt she felt more invested in looking beautiful to him, though she wouldn't admit as much to herself, but she doubted that he'd suddenly reject her if he caught her wearing breeches. The real issue was the dimensions. All the garments in the closets were tailored to be roughly similar to the size of her male relatives, and thus none of the pants would accommodate the curvature of her hips.

"I'm glad you were able to find something," she said with the tiniest hint of envy. In the future she'd have to pay one of the groundskeepers to hide a spare set of clothing for her in one of the many nooks of the cabin. "We keep a lot of extra blankets here," she admitted as he moved to join her beside the fireplace. "In the winters it can be bitterly cold, even with all the hearths lit, and our most elderly guests will complain if they don't have twice as many covers during the night." There were some younger, healthier critics as well that she was convinced simply wanted extra linens to have more than their companions, as if it was a way to passive-aggressively assert themselves.

"Thank you," she said with sincere, earnest gratitude as he draped the blanket over her. Silke wrapped it more snugly around her right shoulder, leaving space on her left if he wanted to join her beneath its soft, fluffy comfort. She didn't need the cushion he set on the floor, as she was an accomplished rider with great endurance for the saddle, but she remained silent; if she pointed out she wasn't sore at all, it might injure his pride. Closing her eyes, a contented sigh escaped her lips. Though she was a touch cold, she was suddenly tired from her long day, and the cozy spot before the heart made a nap incredibly tempting.

His question distracted her, and she blinked her eyes back open, stealing a glance at him. It was easy to forget how much of her life he knew nothing about. Of course, she was similarly ignorant of his life experiences, as they had all but lived in entirely different worlds before he was granted the title of count for saving a duke's life so valiantly. "I came here with my brother Alistair," Silke stated in a gentle tone, cognizant of the fact he didn't know about her deceased sibling. "There were three of us. Vincent is the eldest, Alistair was the second son, and I was the youngest. Even when we were young, Vincent was always paranoid about letting me do things with them, that I'd get hurt because I'm a girl," she recalled with a fond smile. "Alistair would bring me along anyway, or we'd go on adventures on our own. We'd play here often since it didn't get much use and it took more time for the adults to find us to stop our mischief."

"Do you have any siblings? Or did you grow up with anyone close to you like a sibling?" she inquired.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Since Silke hadn't given anyone a time frame of when to expect their return- except she'd likely be back for dinner- it wasn't necessarily a detour that would cause them any trouble. They had some time before the last meal of the day would be served. Even if they happened to be late, her family and the estate staff all knew her to be an accomplished rider who knew the area like the back of her hand. More than once members of the Kasper lineage (including Vincent recently) had been caught in foul weather when they went for a ride, ranging from blizzards to violent thunderstorms to obscuring fog to hail. Maps of their lands could be found in nearly every room in their house detailing different types shelters that were available in such an event. The cabin was best, of course, but several caves were quite serviceable as well.

"Take the blame?" she repeated, amused. "You might want to reconsider. You'll need all the good will you can muster for my brother." Vincent wasn't an unreasonable man; however, the death of their mother and Alistair left Silke as the sole focus of his overprotective drive. Neither of them discussed the losses openly, but she was very aware that they had left a scar on her remaining sibling, and he was terrified to see another member of their family injured or worse. As a result, he would be very critical and suspicious of Galt, just as he would any man trying to stay by his sister's side.

With a flick of the reins she spurred her horse in the direction of the cabin. Their horses had only begun to hit their stride when the rain increased from a drizzle to a steady, heavy rain. As they veered into the forest they were sheltered from the rain, though plenty still made it through the canopy of the leaves and in areas where it was thinner, either because the trees did not create overhangs or they were not packed as closely together. It took somewhere between ten and fifteen minutes to make it to their destination, a home constructed in a clearing.

The word 'cabin' suggested a small dwelling, perhaps with a single room interior. The building that greeted Galt was easily larger than some villager's homes, with a stable behind it that could accommodate up to four horses. At least 1,000 square feet in size, it functioned more as a hideaway for guests, or a vacation spot when the stresses of the estate became too great. It was close enough that supplies could be ferried two and from the primary residence with little fuss, yet far away there was a sense of privacy. When they used to host large balls, banquets, and parties, bachelors would argue over who would get the opportunity to stay at the 'cabin' overnight.

Silke was soaked as she dismounted, led her horse to the stable, and untacked him. She helped Galt do the same for his. Wordlessly she led him inside and instantly wandered to the hearth to start a fire. The cabin was cozy and modestly decorated with a more rugged, 'masculine' touch, most of the furnishings constructed of wood, and the linens of dark earth tones. They had entered into a front from that was a living area with a small kitchenette, dining table to one side. Beyond the room they were in was a hall leading to two bedrooms, a storage room, and a combined indoor privy and bath, which was a must for visiting aristocracy. Nobility had a very different concept of 'roughing it' than the peasantry did and would not wash in a river nor use an outhouse.

"My father keeps spare men's clothes in the closets," she said, motioning towards the hall off of which were the two bedrooms. "You can take your pick of whatever you find in your size." There wasn't any women's clothing, so she mentally debated whether she'd try to dry off completely beside the fire, wrap herself up in blankets to warm herself (and provide some modesty, since her garments were plastered to her), or wear some of the men's clothing. The former two options were more proper, while the third was more sensible.

Frowning to herself, Silke wondered why it was always proper or sensible, rather than both.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

There was little guiding that was actually required of Galt; his horse clearly knew to follow hers as they raced across the fields and cantered through the forest. For the most part the woods had been left wild and untouched, which was a bit unusual. Paper products were becoming increasingly popular and sought after, especially books, and less wealthy nobles resorted to hiring laborers to fell their trees in order to sell the lumber. It was a testament to Silke's success that, despite the brief mismanagement of the estate's finances under her father, they flourished now to the extent all their acreage was ruggedly unblemished. The only sign of human interference in the nature around them were the paths that carefully wound around towering oaks.

Intermittently she checked behind her to make certain that he hadn't been jostled from his saddle. She knew the area well enough she slowed (and his horse slowed as well) when they were approaching a spot where they would need to ride through a small jump or quick turn. A couple times she purposefully brought them to a walk, both to rest their steeds, and to show him points of interest: a conifer that had been split by lightning and had managed to heal and a pack of deer so used to seeing her that they didn't flee unless so long as they kept a minimal distance. Silke could also name and identify half a dozen helpful plants that grew under the shade of the canopy as well. Her mother had never expected her to be academically brilliant, but she had taught all her children the importance of knowing what lived on their lands, from the most innocuous fungus to the most cunning predators.

It took a little more than half an hour, even with their quick pace, to reach the lake. It was a natural lake, rather than a man-made one, and had an irregular shape, larger on they side on which they had approached than the other. The edges of it were rocky, littered with pebbles that had become smooth over the years. A few boats that could hold two people at most, along with their oars, were neatly tucked away under a wooden protective structure to their right. On pleasantly lazy afternoons the Kaspers and their guests would row out on the calm waters and take in the sights. Of course, that was before Violet and Alistair had died, back when they entertained and hosted social events.

They were drinking in the sight when it began to drizzle. Silke glanced up at the sky. The clouds were a light gray, not a darker hue that would indicate a thunderstorm was imminent, but it was not the best weather regardless. There was absolutely no way they wouldn't get drenched; it was a matter of how long they wanted to tolerate riding in the rain. She bit her lip as she contemplated her choices aloud. "We could go to the cabin for rain cloaks, but by the time we reach there it won't really be much help. There's some natural shelters as well, though not big enough for the horses, so all our tack will be soaked, and we don't know how long this will last. I suppose we'll head back to the house?"

A little rain wouldn't do them much harm. Ladies of the court swooned, feigning illness the moment a drop touched them, swearing it made them sick with the most vicious cold. The truth of the matter was they were often milking any attention they could get as delicate flowers. It was getting cool, however, and Silke wasn't in the best of health, so that did pose a slight risk to already compromised immune system. She blinked as runnels started to trail down over her long lashes and cheeks. The greatest threat was that her clothes (and possibly his) wouldn't be quite so modest once they were plastered to them.

"What do you think? Ride back the way we came? You'll have to hold on tighter with your legs," she warned anxiously. "These saddles aren't meant for the rain, so you'll slip in it a bit more than you did on the way here. Perhaps we should take it slower," she mused, worried about his ability to endure a fast ride to their residence. In fact, she was more concerned with him on a whole than she was with herself, and would defer to his decision, so long as it was reasonably sensible.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Silke had gotten so accustomed to teaching or telling Galt how to navigate this new aristocratic world, his easy agreement to find something purple for an engagement ring brought the abrupt realization, or rather a reminder, that he didn't need her for everything. There were other people he could solicit for advice. Certainly Duke Valdemar (and his wife) would be more than happy to give recommendations and advice for the purchase of jewelry. Mentally she had shouldered all responsibility for his acclimation to being a count herself. In reality, he was a capable, competent man, and she was merely meant to help him with some things, rather than manage everything for him as she did with her brother and father to some degree.

While she could have easily swung up into her saddle herself, she didn't want to turn aside his kind gesture, so she took his hand. After she was seated she turned to watch him. His horseback riding experience- or lack thereof- was already known to her, so she had made sure he was given one of their more mild-tempered horses, one that was neither stubbornly lazy nor insistently high-spirited. By the same token, her own was one that would match his steed's gate. It felt a little cruel to assign herself their fastest stallion while he rode a gelding or mare with a loping, more lazy stride.

"Well, it's my father's estate," she said, not by means of correcting him, but diverting the topic slightly from the subject of their nuptials. Her gaze slid over the distance landscape with a mixture of pride and melancholy. No matter what she did, and no matter how dearly she adored the Kasper holdings, they would be passed to heir brother as the elder sibling and the only living son. "Surprisingly, Vincent does a respectable job in managing the grounds for the most part, though he hasn't the slightest idea how to prepare for any event or holiday. A year or two ago he wanted to host his own hunt," she said, nodding towards the forest treeline that stretched in the acres beyond the pasture. "Most of the men were also bringing their wives, who'd stay behind at the house and have a small soiree, and he was shocked we'd need to arrange to bring out more tables and linens, or move some art pieces, perhaps make some flower arrangements."

There were many intricacies of aristocratic socializing that totally escaped her brother. As deft as he was with a sword, as comfortable as he was with physical endeavors, and as well-educated he was on a variety of topics, hosting a party was an insurmountable enigma. If she ever left or passed, she'd have to make sure he either had a wife or servants that could fill the massive gaps in his abilities.

"We've a lake, quite a bit of forest, a cabin farther out," she gestured, "and quite a few lovely meadows. Any preference? I make no promises not to go fast," she said, her eyes twinkling. "You'll need to know how to at least canter without falling off in case your horse bolts during the hunt." Most women rode side-saddle but, as he had witnessed, she rode astride. It was one of her many breaches of etiquette that the court had learned to tolerate as a mild eccentricity. Not only did she have excellent horsemanship, she had expertly smoothed over most of the rankled older gentleman by subtle manipulations, be it flattery, helping them find a worker they were seeking, giving a bit of financial advice, mediating disputes with their wives, or introducing them to someone within her formidable network.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

Her father, Count Kasper, was a romantic at heart. The sincerity and ferocity of his love for his wife, even after her death, and the intense adoration she held for him before she passed, may someday be a legend. Though they had no great heroic accomplishments, no high achievements, the quiet affection they had for one another never faded over time, and radiated around them when they were in court. They had ruined their children. Vincent would settle for nothing less than that same sort of match. He was unsatisfied with the traditional political arranged marriage of nobility. Silke, on the other hand, was terrified of how love was all-consuming. Arrogantly she assumed she could avoid it altogether, despite being warned it wasn't that easy.

According to Count Johann Kasper and the late Countess Violet Kasper, soul mates did exist, and they were as undeniable as the need to draw breath.

Since meeting Galt, she had honestly believed he would meet someone else. She had seen it happen dozens of times. A man would meet her, be intrigued for one reason or another, realize she was disinterested in matrimony, and find someone more suitable for him- or at least much more willing. There was no shortage of beautiful, demure, available ladies that would have been thrilled to have someone as dashing as Galt make an overture. If they were more practical, they'd be excited at the possibility of wedding someone who had the king's eye and favor, who ascended to the aristocracy of their own merit, and had a bright future ahead of them. There were boons to joining hands with him beyond the status of 'count.' Silke was certain she wasn't the only one that saw the potential for him to climb higher and exert more influence than another man of his station.

Regardless of what she convinced herself would happen, he was undeterred, and not the least bit dissuaded that she could leave him a widower some day. Silke didn't know if he really seriously contemplated her mortality in that moment, but he managed to counter her expertly with perhaps the only argument she'd find persuasive: his unhappiness. If she were to reject him, he'd be miserable. Galt had no intentions of looking anywhere else for a bride. Had it been anyone except him making the assertion, she would have thought it a bluff, yet the former thief was candid when it came to his feeling with her.

Her convictions wavered. The goal had always been to leave this world harming as few people as possible. If Galt would be harmed by her refusing his proposal, that would harm him. If he would mourn her, and be just as despondent as a bachelor, that was not shielding him from harm either. If he would be forlorn and bitter watching her marry someone else out of obligation, and against her will, that would harm him. There was no outcome in which he wouldn't be harmed by her actions. In these unexpected circumstances, where she could not avoid harm, the path that caused the least was to accept.

"I trust you," she finally said softly. "It's fate that I don't trust." Anything could go wrong. No matter what feelings they held for each other, tragedy was merciless. She could become widow, burying another family member, another loved one, or become bedridden, a burden upon him. The unknown terrified her, paralyzed her, and kept her firmly rooted at a distance from everyone else. It wasn't a change that her mother or Alistair would have ever wanted her to undergo because of their passing. Silke sensed her extreme stance on romance was not honoring their memories. The living and the dead were all harmed, it seemed... including herself, though she would continue to deny it.

"We can start with an engagement. You might change your mind." It was far as she could go for now, and a large step from her formed absolute determination to remain eternally single. "There will need to be a ring before anything can be official," she added, clearing her throat, a light blush touching her cheeks. "I'm not particular. Anything will do. If you can't decide on colors or stones, I like purples the best as they remind me of my mother."

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

The moment he took her hands she was frozen in shock. It shouldn't have been that much of a surprise; their playful banter had edged on flirtatious and they were two young, unwed individuals spending time alone together. Silke was aware she wasn't quite an unattractive old crone (despite the mutterings of disgruntled matrons of the court), and she had received prior romantic overtures, but none of them had been like this.

All of the noblemen of the past had approached her motivated by pride or responsibility. Many of them, most in the last couple years, saw her as someone whom was a challenge to conquer, and arrogantly believed themselves so superior that she would be falling over herself, flattered by their attention. Others fancied a match because of her pedigree and social ties with various members of the aristocracy, or were obligated to wed to create heirs, or suspected she had a large dowry, or merely wanted to put her down a peg, and keep her under their thumb. While their reasons differed, and a few were admittedly infatuated, they didn't truly know here. Not a single suitor coveted her wit, her intellect, her keen insight, or business acumen. They craved the mirage of Silke that smiled prettily and without cunning.

The confession itself stunned her. Typically an impeccable model of composure, she was at a loss as the affectionate words tumbled from his lips, each one seemingly more earnest than the last. She stared at him, simultaneously flattered, flustered, and flabbergasted. Unlike other men, he didn't appeal to her by waxing poetic about her beauty nor did he list all the benefits she would have by becoming his wife. Galt spoke about granting her wishes, of how she could teach him, of enjoying one another's company, of doing things together. She knew he was sincere. The former thief saw the value in her as a person, as an equal, a partner, whose presence alone was worth sacrifice.

As he fell to a knee she let out a small gasp, even more shocked by the gesture. Servants working in proximity to the stables swung their gazes towards the pair. She was numb. Silke had promised herself she would never marry and had taken pains to keep her distance from any member of the opposite sex that might pose a threat to her plans. When that tactic failed, she became an expert at giving a firm, gentle (when deserved) rejection, each one easier than the last, partially due to the fact they made the same mistakes. Galt was an exception. Not only had she allowed him closer than any man before him, she had allowed herself to be charmed, and she couldn't quite find the strength to turn him away.

Tears formed in the edges of her eyes. He gave her hope. The heartfelt declaration made her want to believe in him- that her future could be filled with happiness, laughter, honesty, and respect, that she wouldn't have to abandon her family. Galt had seen her for who she was and accepted it without restraint. Intuitively she knew he was the sort of person that would never discourage her from writing ambitious business contracts, practicing her archery, or challenging whatever societal norms bothered her that day. Guilt swept over her because, as desperate as she was to agree, to engage herself to this handsome, dashing, witty, heroic, charismatic man, the memory of her parents dragged her back down to reality.

"I couldn't do that to you," she said quietly in a sad, stricken voice, that was raw with feeling. "My mother was... she was an amazing women and the love of my father's life. Most aristocratic marriages are arranged and political, but they adored each other every moment of every day, and he would have pulled down the moon from the sky for her if she asked. When she died, my father..." she took a deep breath, trying to choke down some of her emotion. "My father fell apart. He's never truly recovered. I couldn't do that to you." Silke kept to herself her superstitions about how she would be the next to die in her family. He wouldn't understand it, not yet, and even if he did- it was who would be left behind that tortured her, that gave her nightmares, and haunted her during the day.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

While she didn't know precisely how much Galt had overheard, Silke expected it was just enough to make him feel awkwardly uncomfortable. Internally she had predicted that the former thief would either feign ignorance, distract her with a joke, or be attempt to console her, though he wouldn't know how, as neither he nor anyone else knew why she avoided marriage. As he related he wished he could change the reality of the situation she gave a small smile. The count sympathized with her plight, and she wasn't certain if that made it better or worse. On one hand she was glad to have another ally that was respecting her choice, while on the hand she didn't relish the idea being seen in such a pitiable state, trapped between her agency and duty to her country.

"Lord Byrne wouldn't have rushed over here unless he was convinced it is a serious issue," she told him carefully. "He's not much of a gossip either, so if it's reached his ears, it has spread through a significant amount of the nobility. Truly I ought to be able to do more to repay him other than provide dinner and a chance for him to chastise my brother," Silke sighed. Had she been free to divulge why the nobleman was so loyal to her, and why she trusted him so thoroughly, she would have done so. Because they were not her secrets to keep, however, she couldn't explain to anything to Galt.

Galt proposed. His offer wasn't serious, was accompanied by a wink and smirk, and was delivered with a casual confidence, but the gravity of her predicament struck her at that moment. Since her mother and brother had died she had taken great pride in her independence. Without any fanfare, Silke had strode forward like a conqueror, refusing to allow herself to be restrained by societal norms. She had educated herself beyond what any lady was taught (or what was considered proper). She had taken on all her family's responsibilities, regardless of whether they were traditionally managed by men. She had manipulated and maneuvered her way through the courts, ignoring customs and traditions, and spent just as much or more time conversing with noblemen as noblewomen. She had entered into business ventures and signed contracts, despite questions about how much a member of her sex could understand the subject, and had flourished.

Yet, no matter how successful she had been, there was no simple solution to her current issue. The brighter she shone, and the more attention she brought to herself, the louder the questions about her marital status seemed. People were unsatisfied at the possibility of her remaining unwed and sooner or later, there was a possibility her hand would be forced politically, either by aristocrats of higher station or the prospective groom himself.

Silke became abruptly aware she had been staring at Galt silently. Her mouth opened and closed once as she tried to gather her thoughts and formulate an equally witty response. Typically when she dealt with the other gender she found some fault in their character or appearance, fixated on it, and allowed it to become large enough in her mind that she could reject them without difficulty. Instead of gazing upon her companion and finding such a fault, she had unconsciously admiring him- and there was quite a bit to admire. She liked how his eyes twinkled with mischief, how his smile made his entire face brighten with warmth, how his hair was never quite as coiffed as all his stuffy peers, how he had the slightest bit of swagger in his stride without being arrogant, how when he listened he turned his entire attention on her, and how he was respectful even when he was teasing. Count Harrowmark was a handsome man beyond the cut of his jaw and square of his shoulders.

"Are you already trying to find a way to escape your accounting homework?" she asked. She suspected he knew that she had paused because she was giving his joking proposal a very serious consideration, but she had her pride, and wasn't eager to capitalize on her foolishness. "Lord Byrne is correct that I would have run his house twice as well as he does. There's hope for you yet, though, to be almost as good as I am," she jested as a stablehand very tentatively approached, handing her reins for a large bay horse, and for him a chestnut, both of which were saddled and prepared for the ride.

Leading the bay away from the barn, she continued. "Imagine all the hearts you would break. The most attractive and charming bachelor in the kingdom suddenly snatched from the market." Silke made a tsking sound and shook her head dramatically. There wasn't any hint of deception in her statement because she was being honest and framing it within a joke. She was trying to act as if she wasn't tempted, as if she wasn't panicked at the prospect of being sent north, as if she didn't feel like her world was crumbling around her piece by piece. "An engagement announcement would have made for a very exciting dinner," she mused aloud sounding a little dejected to her own ears.

[MxF] (Mature; 18+) Looking for Long Term Partner

Tentatively looking for a couple more stories as most of my partners have (understandably) slowed down to real life events. I'm specifically most interested in darker, less heroic male leads, and am open to a variety of plots not limited to what is on this interest check, which desperately needs updating.

Shoot me your idea and/or character concept and/or interests in a PM if you think we'd be a good match!

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

It was roughly lunchtime when Lord Byrne arrived at the estate on his steed, a spirited young stallion named Endless, that they hoped to breed in the future to one of the Kasper's purebred mares. Silke knew immediately he had brought Endless specifically to help coax her into squeezing a meeting into her busy schedule. All the nobility knew how challenging it could be to make an appointment with her, not because she was unkind or unaccommodating, but because she over-committed herself. If it was a trick it was a successful one because she had gone outside to meet him, walking towards the stables. Little did the gentleman know what a fortunate coincidence it was since she was heading in that direction anyway to prepare for the afternoon ride.

On the way to the stables they casually chatted, the small talk that was always a prelude to a more serious topic. Silke quite liked Lord Byrne. He was a tall, handsome man, intelligent, articulate, a little more than ten years her senior, and thankfully not at all interested in women. Officially he was married, but his bride had just as little interest in men as he did in women, and so they had a quiet arrangement where neither expected any sort of romance. The person who had helped facilitate such an unusual match was none other than Lady Kasper herself.

Most importantly, Lord Byrne was fiercely loyal to Silke as a friend, even if they were not especially close. He respected her, he sympathized with her suspected lack of interest in marriage (though he didn't know the nature of her aversion), and he felt indebted to her for keeping his secret without his needing to ask her to do so. They were kindred spirits of a sort- movers and shakers in the court that didn't necessarily conform to its unspoken rules.

"I've come to tell you of a rumor I've heard," he admitted softly. "You're aware of the tension we have with our northern neighbors?" Lord Byrne paused in the grass near the stables, allowing Endless to graze as they spoke.

"Yes, of course. Are you all right?" Silke asked, furrowing her brows in concern. "You look flushed. Should I have someone fetch you some water at least?"

Lord Byrne waved off her question. "No, that's not necessary. Let me first tell you what brought me here. There's been increased discussion that there should be a marriage between the northern kingdom and our own to help improve relations. Since they have no royalty they either can offer or are willing to offer, there is an archduke that is yet unwed whose name has been floated as a candidate on their side."

Silke frowned. If Lord Byrne was here discussing this matter with her with such a sense of urgency, she had a sense she knew where this was going. The king wouldn't offer up any of his own relatives in exchange for anything other than a prince. Since an archduke's hand was what was being offered, that meant his eyes would be turned towards the nobility, of which she was a member. In fact, she was the most famously single female member of the aristocracy.

"You should prepare yourself. The rumor is that the North is interested in the 'sparkling jewel' of our kingdom's court, especially since they know you are unmatched. Silke..." he paused. It wasn't entirely proper to address her by her first name, but he stepped forward anyway, taking her hands in his own as he stared down into her face. He was worried. "Our noblemen aren't all opposed. Some argue we couldn't lose you, but others believe you should do what is best for the kingdom."

"I can't possibly!" Silke said, outraged at the idea of being traded to the northern kingdom as if she were a commodity, a prize, a reward for them not being quite so hostile. "Even if I were willing, we both know if I'm that far away my father and brother wouldn't be able to handle all the responsibilities I've taken on their behalf."

He paused. Lord Byrne squeezed her hand, preparing her for the worst case scenario, something that had not yet occurred to her because her head was spinning. "You should come up with a plan and quickly. If enough voices clamor for it, someone of higher station, even the king himself, could order you to accept the proposal. There's not much I can do for you except warn you of the whispers. Were I not already blissfully married," he remarked dryly, releasing her hand and stepping back, "you know I would take you for my own beloved and let you have the run of the house. The gods know you could run it twice as well as I do."

"Yes, well, that is true," Silke replied with a smirk. "I'm about to go on a ride," she said, noticing for the first time that Galt was nearby. She wasn't certain how long he had been there or how much he had heard. "Would you care to stay for dinner? You can explain to Vincent why he needs to attend all the events I just accepted for him this morning."

Despite himself, Lord Byrne grinned, amused at the idea of trying to persuade Vincent that any level of socialization was a worthy endeavor. There were wild hogs that were more friendly. "Yes, of course. I'll make myself scare. Three's a crowd after all. I'll make my introductions to the count after your ride," he offered, handing Endless off to a stable boy, bowing to Silke and Galt, and striding towards the house. The Kaspers were well-known for their generous meal sizes and cook who believed everything was better with butter.

Rise to The Top: Medieval Intrigue RP

The confidence that Galt displayed about their afternoon ride made Silke raise a brow. "Oh, I didn't realize you had become a master horseman since we last met. I'll keep that in mind when planning our outing," she replied with amusement. A mischievous smile alighted on her lips that offered no hint as to whether she was teasing or seriously plotting to test his limits. Truthfully she was undecided. The Kasper lands had more difficult trails that the family took when they were feeling adventurous. While the forests at the edges of the property were preserved partially for privacy, and because it would be costly to domesticate them, there was a beauty in the wilderness that everyone enjoyed. Only their finest, and most spirited, steeds were able to be taken on these barely-marked paths. If she wished to show the count the best sights of her home, he'd be challenged more than he had been with the older, calmer mare he had after the feast.

"Well, since I am outnumbered on the matter of my exercise," she said with a sigh and unladylike roll of the eyes, "I have no choice. Franz, may I rely on you to pass word to the stables?" Silke inquired, smiling gently as he nodded his head in acknowledgment. It was easy to see why she was reluctant to leave her desk. With so many administrative matters awaiting her review, approval, and response, there was no shortage of work. Noblemen would delegate tasks they couldn't complete, or prioritize time for themselves, but over the years the youngest Kasper's identity had been nothing more the pillar that supported her family. She lived and breathed her duties, be they social or tangible.

Vincent watched the exchange quietly. He was terrible at reading a room, and even worse at making small talk, but he knew his sister. Using Galt to get her to leave the office irritated him, the little tour could easily become romantic, and he didn't entirely trust any man who wasn't dumb, deaf, and blind around Silke. Despite his reservations, and the former thief's wandering gaze, there wasn't anything objectionable to the man... yet. He was serving a purpose, not an idiot, and wasn't arrogant about his fighting capabilities. This was someone he could work with.

"Let's go before she finds a way to talk herself out her commitment," he mumbled to Galt.

"What's that, elder brother? You think I'm the one trying to escape commitments? I can always reply to these invitations with promises of your attendance instead," she threatened, waving one folded piece of parchment for effect. Franz kept his composure as Vincent retreated out of the room, roughly tugging Galt along, all too afraid that Silke would carry through on her threat. The tips of his ears burned in a mixture of embarrassment and annoyance.

Once they were down the hall a bit (and Silke's laughter that immediately followed their departure had faded away), Vincent slowed his gait. Clearing his throat to regain his composure, and squaring his shoulders, he soldiered on verbally. He had never been an eloquent man for most topics. When it came to athletic endeavors, however, he was well-spoken and confidant, without being overbearing. There wasn't as much ambiguity to weapons training as there was to dealing with cunning courtiers and coy maidens. "There isn't anything shameful about handling a crossbow," he said pragmatically, "but it has its flaws. Bows come in a variety of draw weights to capitalize on the strength of the wielder. In addition they are quieter, which is why they are used for hunting, and have a greater range."

Vincent shrugged to himself as he led Galt down the corridor and towards a different set of stairs that were in the rear of the building. "Pompous, lazy fools call them a coward's weapon, but in a real war, the enemy won't care about your sense of honor. I'll teach you any weapon you want to learn," he said, genuinely passionate about empowering others to defend themselves.