White and Gold [Drake, Nightcandle]

[Anonymous]

If Tarys and Sir Xolan got along, Asharys might have suspected there was more to him getting a new sword than being inadequately armed for the son of the High Lord and brother to a renowned mage-smith.  He was still too young, traditionally, to be granted a knighthood but the runed sword made him feel even more prepared.  Now he should see some significant improvement when he was training.  If he was good with plain metal, then rune-forged faesteel would make him even better.

Tomorrow couldn't come soon enough.

Asharys left his sword alone once his siblings began the toasts that would begin the feast.  He lifted his goblet when Vethrys began, waited until she and Tarys took a sip before he took a swig from his own.  It was strong and seemed to go right through his stomach and up into his head.  Lunch now seemed a lot further away than it was and he didn't remember to put something in his saddlebag to munch on between meals.  Fortunately, he thought as the servants brought out the first course, this was a Thandryon feast and he would be served after his siblings instead of watching everyone else get their own food and nearly finish before he was served.  However, if it wasn't a formal event, Asharys might have filched a tart from Tarys instead of waiting to get his own.  His own arrived soon after, so it wasn't a complete loss, and was soon followed by a savory stew in a trencher.

Asharys picked up his own tart with every intention of eating it as quickly as he could.  Until he felt how warm it was.  If the outside felt like that, the inside would strip away the lining of his mouth when he bit it.  Asharys blew on it and bit an edge of the crust, turning to Vethrys afterward and grinning.  "Vethrys, how long will we be staying at Stonesthrone?"

[Anonymous]

Tarys was so terribly flat-footed about the whole thing, Vethrys thought.  He might have said something witty to begin the feast, or ironic, or something.  She busied herself skewering the best pieces of meat from her stew on the end of her eating knife, then went after the chunks of carrot.  Some sort of cream tart came next, and she sat back, shredding the crust idly between two fingers while she watched the other revelers, and her brothers.

"Oh, just long enough to eat the Baron out of house and home," Vethrys said, nudging Tarys with one elbow and shoving the rest of her tart across to Ash, who looked like he wanted it more than she did.  

She found herself distracted by a tumbler, who'd hopped onto the table, planting a foot between an arrangement of salad greens and a pitcher of wine, then turned a neat midair somersault and landed flatfoot in the space in the middle of the room.  He tumbled up past the salt.  He was small, skinny, dark-haired, and masked, wearing Stonesthrone colors, but in a ridiculously gaudy diamond-pattern, and had bells sewn into his sleeves, hems and boots.  When he came closer, she saw he had a very red apple in one hand.  He offered it to her, and then her brother, with a flourish, then pulled back, bowed, and ran one hand over the fruit, making a pulling gesture.  The apple spiraled up as though it had been cut, furling into the red-edged shape of a unicorn's horn, until it ended in a fine point.  Then he turned it over, waving a hand, and its empty base fountained with red wine.

Someone had begun playing the fife and some sort of twangy stringed instrument, she noticed.  The sound wasn't entirely pleasant--maybe a little shrill, and its rhythms were purposefully uneven--but it added a note of anticipation to the entertainment.

The jester took a step back and took a long drink from the horn, throat moving ostentatiously.  When he had finished, he held it out to their table and those surrounding with a flourish; it still brimmed with liquid.  He passed his palm over the horn again and wiggled his fingers.  A red rosebud appeared, coaxed from the liquid, and bloomed.  Petals unfurled.  Slowly, the red color drained from the flower; when he pulled it out of the horn of liquid, the green stem turned black.  With a flourish, he offered the flower to Vethrys.

She took it with a grin and toasted him; he returned it with the rest of the horn of wine.  Doubtless not Tarys's idea, but she liked the tumbler; she kept smiling at him and looked toward Sir Mirak over his shoulder.  Then she handed the flower to her brother.

"Black and white becomes you," she told Tarys. "You look so very Thandryon tonight."

[Anonymous]

Tarys didn't do jokes that well, and to be honest he didn't really need to. He had a sense of humour, and that meant that people didn't think him a total bore, but Stonesthrone was a serious enough barony; when you spent your days mining and working ore you tended to be more than a little bit literal about things. That wasn't to say that they didn't know how to have a good time, though; as the food was brought out and the festivities began it was obvious that this was going to be an enjoyable evening. The jester was particularly good, another magic using subject whose Fae heritage was probably closer in generations than Tarys' own, and as the young Baron ate he watched with unfeigned but closely guarded delight. The jester would be paid handsomely, he decided, and perhaps such a payment would lead to a permanent place in the court of one of the other baronies. Tarys simply didn't hold enough formal events to warrant the permanent hiring of a court jester, although given the colours this one was wearing he wasobviously a Stonethrone citizen. Maybe Tarys would have to rethink his feast throwing strategies.

"Ah, Vethrys, you know I cannot help looking more like a Villis," he said, lightly. The wine was good, the food was excellent, and he could more than handle jibes about his possible ancestry now that he'd managed to get a bit of both into his stomach. He didn't eat much of the tart left in front of him, since he generally needed a bit of a run up to eat even after working nineteen hour days on a suit of armour. But the stew that followed was received more readily, and by the time he had finished that the servants were coming forward with the next course, which consisted of fish, since Stonesthrone sat on a river that positively teemed with some of the hugest salmon a person was ever likely to see. As this meal was brought forward, the tumbler with the fae ancestry was joined by two more, also in Stonesthrone colours, and they started up the juggling tricks. These always caught Tarys' eye because of the agility and mental and visual acuity involved; he had tried to teach himself how to juggle as a child, but never quite managed it until more recently, and then quite by accident. They started off throwing up balls together, each with three, then four, then five balls, thrown into their hands by willing and delighted children. then they moved around to that they were stood in a triangle and started passing the balls between themselves, never once looking like they were going to drop any of them. It was an amazing spectacle to watch.

[Anonymous]

Asharys gave the tart another puff before deciding it was cool enough, then ate it in a few quick bites.  Barely chewing before the next one, the way that would have soon earned him a scolding if Mother was at the table.  Tarts didn't need to be chewed anyway, once the crust was broken down they were fine.  Stew was the same, especially with good tender meat like this one had.  After inhaling the first couple bites, he began swirling the speared piece through the drippings to soak up a little more.

"Aaaw, here I was hoping we'd stay longer," he said, grinning and sticking the point of his eating knife blindly into the stew.  

Good as the tumbler that tumbled up to their end of the table was, not much could distract his hands and mouth during meals.  Asharys chewed on the edges of the tart Vethrys slid him while he watched.  Ever since he found out that some magic was just sleight of hand, Asharys couldn't help but watch any magic show closely, looking for the illusion.  He couldn't see it this time, which meant the tumbler was really good at sleight of hand or he was using magic.  Either way it was a good show.  Asharys grinned between bites of tart and the remaining stew, ignoring his siblings chatter about what Tarys looked like.

When the fish was brought out and the juggling began, Asharys sat up a little straighter.  Juggling always caught his attention more than an actual magic show because he could juggle.  It was one of the first things Sir Xolan taught him as a page, with little sheep's bladders full of brightly coloured water.  Usually he wasn't close enough to really pick up anything during a juggling show, but this time he might be able to see something.  If one of the jugglers had a pattern he could copy or how they caught any other objects that might get tossed into the mix.  He hoped it was daggers.  Sir Xolan always asked him when he was going to try juggling a brace of daggers and he'd give excuses.  He didn't want to risk maiming himself before he was even dubbed.  Losing a digit, or worse his entire hand, while juggling daggers didn't make an awe-inspiring story.

Occasionally, a tumbler would toss a ball over his shoulder and kick it back up with a heel.  It was something he'd seen before, but never seemed to work out whenever he tried.  Asharys stared at the tumbler whose back was towards them and saw that he would hit the ball with the side of his foot more than his heel, making a bat out of the curve.

--

Xolan leaned back in his chair, feigning interest in the jugglers just long enough to be polite (which was just before he got a cramp in his neck from looking over his shoulder at them) before turning back to his food and then looking up the table where his squire was sitting.  Rapt, even though his knife was still moving down to the fish and up to his mouth.  He'd be juggling something after the feast was over, sure as the sun rose in the morning and the moon changed her face.  If this wasn't his own brother's feast he'd play at drinking too much once the juggling was over so he could be excused once the eating was over and the dancing began.  Here, Xolan didn't have to worry about making sure he didn't escape early, but old habits died hard.

Besides, he'd be missing out on Stonethrone's nicer girls if he left the boy in the care of his family.  The sister would be too busy making sure she had enough company of her own and the brother... well that attitude Asharys had towards women couldn't have been born out of nothing.  Xolan smiled at one of the serving girls, who looked sweeter than the honey on the oatcakes she was serving, and got an icy look in return.  Ouch.  Xolan braced his elbows against the table and leaned into it, looking across Sir Pyper (whose complete attention was on the jesters) to Sir Mirak.  

"I'm starting to get an idea of where all the Thandryon male modesty comes from here," he quipped, tilting his head back at the girl.

[Anonymous]

Aldrio liked occasions, though he himself was always content to sit back and watch.  While he did so, he busied himself cutting his tart into ten tiny, neat wedges.  He dispatched of the first with one eye on what looked like an argument on the other side of the room.  He ate the next while looking over the young nobleman or knight sitting to his right, and shared a brief, murmured introduction before he helped himself to another slice of tart and turned to watch the fool.  He was impressed, as he always was by interesting magic.  

The Lady Vethrys, of course, just wanted to sleep with him.  Aldrio blithely avoided her gaze and turned toward the man a two places down, who'd just leaned in to say something.

Aldrio smiled at the witticism.  "Maybe modesty works in wooing," he suggested, and ate the fourth slice of his tart whole.  "Understate your interest and she'll overstate hers."  

He poked at his stew, waiting for it to cool, and looked blinkingly at sir Xolan.  

--

Vethrys felt herself growing happier and happier with her brothers. Sometimes she couldn't stand them, still clung to childhood annoyances, and sometimes she really thought they were lovable.  Maybe it was the wine.  She'd had two goblets so far, and it wasn't much watered.  Anyway, once the charming jester had left, she didn't find much of note in the jugglers. One person's show of skill was interesting.  A lot of people making bladders dance around was less so.  Ash was enthralled, though.  Ash was being himself.  For once his squirming enthusiasm seemed endearing rather than irritating.  Best that he was on Tarys's other side, though, where she could only catch the edge of his impatient grin.

And Tarys was so Tarys.  So guarded now, all the time.  He had even responded with polite good cheer to her last poke.  Right, that straddled the line between endearing and infuriating, but never mind.  She toasted him silently, again, and drank half of her third cup of wine, then set the goblet down and leaned forward in time nearly to mash her elbow in a dish of cooked vegetables.  They'd also brought out swans garnished in their own feathers and an arrangement of little quail.  Vethrys took one and started worrying at a thigh joint.

"Tomorrow we'll have to try out your new sword, Ash," she said, glancing toward Sir Xolan.  He was leaning across to talk to Sir Mirak.  Vethrys looked back at her brothers and pulled the drumstick free of her quail with a vicious pop.  She waggled it at Tarys.  "And we must have a tilt," she said.  They'd rarely tilted against each other, certainly never at Hornshunt.  Now that he was a knight she wanted to get his measure.

Make sure he wasn't getting too good.  "I'm worried you'll get rusty out here, with all these tools that forge metal and too few of those that forge good jousters."

[Anonymous]

Sir Sutlin, the knight who had trained Tarys, was rather amused with the seat he had been given. Of course it was all perfectly political, Sutlin knew; on this table he could listen to people that his former squire and current Baron (and that had been a kicker, when the boy turned sixteen, to have his squire also be his Baron) was interested in and report back later. Not that Sutlin was in any way a spy, since it had been decided that for Tarys to have a spy network would look dangerous, but informal reports never hurt anyone.

"Perhaps the young baron merely knows his place, Sir Xolan," he said, his voice quiet and calmly conversational. "Even we must be careful not to cause scandal amongst court members; Baron Stonesthrone must take extra care not to slight anyone or sully reputations."

He glanced at Mirak as he said that, although he soon turned his head to look up at his former ward. Having reminded the table that the boy he had trained now out ranked them all without saying it outright he was happy to let the conversation run its course.

--

Ash was enraptured by the jugglers, it seemed, and that meant that the ever so slightly barbed conversation between Tarys himself and their sister had apparently gone straight over their younger brother's head. Ash was just a little too young to remember the fights Tarys and Vethrys had gotten into before she was sent off to squire for someone, even though he was only three years younger than Tarys. Some of their sibling 'bonding' sessions had been pretty epic, and as Vethrys talked of a tilt tarys smiled and nodded. He was matching her sip for sip with wine, but it appeared that the steward had noticed this because as he set his third goblet down,half empty, a servant discreetly placed a goblet of water next to the goblet of wine. Well, at least he could count on not having a thumping headache in the morning.

"Stonesthrone does not lack for martial prowess," he stated, between mouthfuls of swan meat. "After all, a good smith knows how to use a good weapon as well as how to make one. And Sir Sutlin, despite my elevation through the ranks, has never let merest on my laurels. This barony is wellknown for disliking rust in any form."

[Anonymous]

Xolan shrugged, rolling his shoulders.  He grinned and was about to answer Sir Mirak when Sir Sutlin said his own piece about Asharys' brother.  It was a damn good thing that Sir Sutlin was too busy with the brother to take Asharys under his wing.  Being squired out to him would have taken Asharys to a new level of stiff, prudishness that would end in him getting him beaten.  Constantly.  A fourth child couldn't afford to have nice, pretty manners.  They wouldn't provide for him unless he got a wife that was born a little further up the social ladder than he was.  A possibility that didn't seem too likely to happen now.  

Unless Sir Mirak wasn't talking out of his ass.  He might not.  As far as Xolan knew he didn't pounce on Vethrys.  That and women always seemed to go crazy over any knight during a tournament, when no knight in their right mind should be focusing on them.  "Ah, the dreaded scandal," Xolan sucked his teeth, curled a hand into a fist and pressed it against his heart.  "I'm certainly willing to play whatever small part I can to defend the Lord Baron from them while we're visiting Stonesthrone.  What say you Sir Mirak?  We'll ignore a few girls once the dancing begins."

--

Birds dressed in their own feathers never stopped freaking Asharys out a little.  When he was little he thought they were going to wake up when they were carved.  Now that he was older, there was a lingering unease about seeing a bird lying across a platter like it was taking a nap and smelling so good.  After staring at the swans for a few seconds Asharys picked up a spear of asparagus and chewed on it.

When Vethrys looked down the table to Sir Xolan, Asharys looked too.  He wanted to test the edge of his new sword before sparring with anyone.  There had to be some things around the fortress that he could cut up.  After that, he definitely needed to spar with someone.  "I should practice jousting too.  Sir Xolan says I should practice as much as I can, so I can get ready for tourneys later on.  It'd be good for Red too."

[Anonymous]

Aldrio had a roast carrot on the point of his knife.  He'd shifted his attention once Sir Sutlin had looked his way, seeming accusatory.  He didn't want to take offense or offer apology, either way.  So he fucked the Baron's sister.  He was hardly the only one.  Sir Sutlin didn't linger on the point, anyway, but shifted his attention to the high table, and Aldrio relaxed.  

He turned the carrot this way and that, admiring the carmelized streak down one side, but lowered it when Sir Xolan addressed him.

"Only what's necessary, of course," he said mildly.  He bit off the end of the carrot and chewed, glancing back toward Sir Sutlin.  

--

"Sir Sutlin never made you earn your laurels," Vethrys muttered, suddenly soured on Tarys's pomposity.  He might say he wasn't, might wear that cold, unequivocal mask of his, but really.  Might be honest and industrious on the outside but he was a proud bastard under it, just like her.  She didn't like his coldness, didn't trust him for burying the angry energy he'd had as a child, before their mother had died.  

Yes, that bit of bragging had sent him over the line into infuriating once again.  Vethrys took another drink. Sour, sour.  The only thing that would erase that was more.  She emptied her cup and set it down to be refilled.  Vethrys didn't like to get drunk on wine and didn't relish the hangover tomorrow, but by Kia, her brother's court was boring enough that she needed it.

"Yes, you may tilt with Yevan," she told Ash abruptly.  Her squire--their cousin--would be more than willing, she thought.  "And I'll take Tarys, if he's got enough breath left after trying to brag."

[Anonymous]

Sir Sutlin, having said his piece, ignored his peers. So he might be deemed a little stuffy, that didn't matter to him. he had his wife and he had three daughters, and if he saw anyone - Mirak, Xolan or even Thandryon - dancing with them then he would be having words. Although he might not mind if young Ash took a shine to his oldest daughter. He might have to talk to Lord Emrys and Baron Stonesthrone about it. Betrothals had to be well planned, and marrying a daughter to his lord's son (or brother, if you wanted to be closer to home) would be interesting. So much so that he was already debating how to broach the subject with his wife. If he took offence at everything Xolan and Mirak said they'd never get anything done for dueling.

---

Tarys just shrugged at his sister. It was true that Sir Sutlin had never truly honestly challenged him once he figured out how to rune his sword for lightness, but he'd undergone other tests. It wasn't as if any of them got an easy ride; if anything he got it tougher after he turned sixteen because he got the barony. But he wasn't in the mood for an argument, especially not with Vethrys. They were both insufferably competitive, although neither would admit it, and he just didn't have the energy for a falling out. He would need all the energy he could get to joust his sister in the morning.

He took a sip of water as his sister reached for another goblet of wine; his competitive streak considered trying to continue matching her,but what common sense was making it through the fugue of beyond-exhaustion recommended against such an action. All the runes in the world - or at the very least, all the runes Tarys knew - could do little against a hangover.

"I shall have to think about finding a squire," he said, with a barely audible sigh into his drink. "How old is Jethol? Is he twelve yet? Too many cousins running around, I swear."

So far he guessed that he'd gotten away with not having a squire because he was partly running a barony and partly upholding the larger province's economic stability. He had a servant around to help him suit up when he went to jousting tourneys, but so far, no squire. He really would have to sort something out in that area as well. Either pick up Jethol or find a family that needed something for a son or daughter to do and could afford the equipment. Not always an easy task.

He didn't bother pointing out that she would have made the same claim as he did as if positions had been reversed, since he was sure that she would have done. She was just bitter that he got a barony at sixteen, he was sure of it; she wouldn't inherit anything for a while yet. She wasn't right for the job of baroness anyway; if she couldn't arrange her time to make sure she saw her baby brother get knighted (regardless of the whereabouts of the king; he probably wasn't going anywhere) then she sure as hell couldn't run a barony. But there was no point in dragging that up right now. He had defended her back then, against their father, and there was no point in attacking her for it now. It was done, past, finished.

The jugglers were finishing up as the servants brought out the desert; Tarys had stopped paying attention to them and was having trouble placing the tune that the musicians were starting to play as they warmed up. he would have to dance soon, if he didn't pass out first. It was tempting to rune himself into unconsciousness, but he was a host here tonight and couldn't really do that right now. He would sleep well enough, though.

[Anonymous]

Xolan calmly plucked a handful of feathers from the swan closest to him.  There was always more food at these feasts than he cared to eat at one time.  By the time they started to roll out the fancy stuff he was usually left twirling his thumbs and looking for patterns in the ceiling.  He put the feathers in front of his trencher and prodded them into a fan with the blunt edge of his eating knife.  "Yes, yes, only what's necessary.  Maybe I'll try something different and see if I can last the rest of the night without trying to get someone to keep me warm."

He drove the point of his knife into the center feather and wriggled it back and forth.  "I could see if I could do anything about how pitifully Asharys handles women."

--

"I hope Yevan's gotten better since last time," Asharys said, trying for the easy smugness Vethrys always seemed to give off.  The last time he rode against Yevan he didn't ride that much better.  Sir Xolan didn't think it was an acceptable performance and had him tilt against a quintaine every day for weeks.  He wasn't sure if Vethrys made Yevan do anything similar.

He hoped she did.  While it would be nice to crush an opponent here at Stonesthrone in front of his older sister and brother, it'd be better if that opponent spent time training.  How good were you if you could beat someone who spent all of their time polishing armor?

Asharys wet his lips with wine, set it down and nudged it away from him.  If he was going to tilt in the morning he should be in the best form he could manage.  This would have been the worst time to see if he could do anything with a hangover.  He blinked when Tarys mentioned taking a cousin to squire.  Jethol... Asharys didn't even remember him.  Spending half his childhood and all of his youth at Sir Xolan's estate didn't help him keep up with all of their cousins.  Jethol must have been an older sibling in his family to have gone through the same home based learning, rather than becoming a page for a knight.  Taking a squire might be best for Tarys though.  He recently became a knight and a squire didn't need much in the way of basic training.  Maybe it'd be best for him to take a page later.  He'd have to ask what Sir Xolan thought about that.

When dessert arrived, Asharys eagerly tucked in to it until the musicians began rehearsing.  The dancing was about to begin and there was no way he could excuse himself early.  As long as Vethrys and Tarys were going to stay out, he had to be with them and be a good guest.  Which meant he'd have to dance and, worse, talk with the Stonesthrone ladies.  Asharys shrank a little in his chair and broke a piece of apple into little pieces.  Most ladies weren't interested in swordplay or training or knighthood in general outside of songs and legends so Asharys was at a loss when it came to talking with them.  Ladies that were interested in such things were usually older, and they didn't take much of an interest in him.  He suspected they might not want to hear about it at a feast either.  Vethrys might be able to help... somehow.  She was a lady.  Sort of.  "Veth," Asharys said softly, leaning across the table and looking up at her.  "What do ladies like to talk about at dances?"

[Anonymous]

Aldrio raised one eyebrow.  "He's sixteen."  Sir Xolan's priorities seemed a little misplaced, though he couldn't have asked for a more enthusiastic squire.  The other knight reminded him of no one so much as his mistress.  Blunt, unemotional, and anything but diplomatic.  

He glanced up toward the high table.  Asharys had one hand on the sword propped up next to his chair; Vethrys was staring grumpily down at her plate.  She never could content herself with what was before her, no matter how pleasant.  It was always about something else, power or comparison.  Tarys looked pale and composed, but Aldrio wondered how much of that was feigned.

Servants had discreetly brought out raspberry jellies, gilded candies, and little frosted cakes.  Aldrio took a handful of candies and made them into a little flower on his plate, around one of the cakes.  He glanced sideways at Sir Sutlin, who'd drawn back from the unsavory conversation with Xolan.  Aldrio couldn't blame him for that.  Xolan had begun to give him a sour feeling, too.  

"I hope you don't think too ill of me, sir," he said at last, half-turned toward Sutlin.  He followed his gaze back up to the Thandryons, tipped his chin down, and spoke quietly.  "I follow my heart, which is not always best for my reputation."  He shrugged.  

---

Vethrys blinked at her youngest brother.  He looked decidedly uncomfortable, almost pained, she noted beneath the vague fog of wine and the sharper stab of irritation.  Both tasted sour.

"It depends on the lady," she told Ash, reaching over to tug at his tail of hair.  One corner of her mouth tightened in amusement.  "Find one who wants to hear about your sword."  She laughed.  "Find one who wants to touch it."

[Anonymous]

The food had helped bolster his energy reserves, enough so that he was now confident of lasting the entire night even if he still looked like he'd been hit with every branch of the exhaustion tree. He couldn't let someone else host in his stead as he went to rest; feasts were just like battles in his head, people were watching him and he couldn't let anyone down. He had to uphold the good name of the Thandryon family for the citizens of Stonesthrone, and he had to show those not from Stonesthrone that the barony was strong as well. A strong barony needed a strong baron to rule it, however good the Steward was. He ate a pudding without speaking, letting his sister talk to their brother , then stood up and bowed formally to his sister.

"My Lady, if I may have the first dance?"

Normally he would not have danced with his sister for all the gold in Stonesthrone because it was just a little bit weird. But he was the Baron and she was the guest of honour, and since they were of opposing genders some kind of etiquette dictated that the first dance be theirs, at least until one or both of them got married. Or something. Feast hall etiquette wasn't exactly a Thandryon speciality, even though all the children were taught such things as they grew up. Tarys just remembered things when he needed them, as he did now.

----------

Sir Sutlin politely paid attention to Mirak as Xolan rattled on about introducing Ashrys to girls; Tarys had been a lot less shy than his brother, it was Sir Sutlin's personality that had over-ruled Tarys' will and kept the young Thandryon male from ending up like Mirak or Xolan. Tarys' reputation was much more important in Fallial than the reputations of any of the non-Thandryon knights, and Sutlin had had to keep a rein on the boy. Neither of them mentioned it to anyone else, of course, and Tarys had eventually reined his impulses and grown into his roles. A fact for which Sutlin was very grateful.

"I try not to judge people too much," he replied. "It is not always possible, but then we are all only human. It would be wrong of me to think ill of you for that."