675-04-06 - Zorich Squire and Fennim Widower

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Zorich Squire and Fennim Widower
Summary: Deen and Ralph have a talk in the Courtyard of Woodwatch Keep
Who: Deen Zorich and Ralph Fennim
References: {{{Refs}}}
When: April 6th, in the year 675, evening
Related Logs: Happens after 675-04-06 - Istivean Arrival
Date of RP: 06/04/2014
Where: Courtyard - Woodwatch Keep, Duchy of Woriscant
Room Desc: An impressive gatehouse of stone painted in an already paling red colour provides passage to the Courtyard of Woodwatch Keep, which is well kept, the ground being paved with grey cobble stones. Right ahead is the majestic keep itself, its white towers clearly visible from afar, as they protrude from the Woods of Woriscant, and in turn offer an impressive view of the surrounding region.


Spring brings with it an itch. This is, perhaps, always true of the season, though it is thrice true when the itch is given to a boy on the cusp of manhood who has been cooped up in quarantine for the duration of the plague. Traveling from Granville to Woriscant has not satisfied that itch, it has only magnified it. And so, on this warm spring evening, beneath an overcast sky, Deen finds himself pacing outside the keep. Ruddy flames from the torches on the keep walls paint his face and his boots crunch dully on the gravel as he paces for a moment, back and forth, back and forth, a caged animal behind invisible bars.

A Fennim slips out through the double doors that lead into the castle. Attired in a black doublet and breeches of the same colour, and even dark coloured boots that make him stand out little against the fading light of day. His dark eyes scan the courtyard as if in search for someone, until his gaze comes to linger on the restless young man, and he approaches with a slow gait that may hint he has already one or more cups of wine. "Good eve," he greets with a smile that is friendly and a touch sombre at the same time. "You must be Deen Zorich, if I'm not mistaken." He inclines his head. "I am Ralph Fennim. It seems we will go on this voyage to the Isles together." He pauses, studying Deen for a moment before he adds: "It seems you are already impatient to get home, my lord?"

Deen's booted feet stop their restless pacing, the grinding of gravel ceasing with them as he turns to regard the man who has addressed him. A smile flickers to life on his troubled face like kindling taking light under a patient breath. "I am impatient to see what was once my home, Lord Fennim," he says wryly. "My home is back in Granville." He pauses for a moment, taking stock of the older man, then nods respectfully. "It is a pleasure to meet you. And a pleasure to have your company on the journey." He cocks his head and lifts a pale eyebrow. "Have you been to the Isles before?"

Ralph looks slightly surprised but not displeased by the answer, as the raised brows will betray. "Is that so? You have been there for how long exactly? You squire for Sir Fordric, if I am not mistaken. He is my brother-in-law." The smile will fade a touch when he mentions that, as Ralph lets his brooding gaze drift over the yard. A shake of the head is given in reply to Deen's question. "No, I have not. To Estoria, yes. Occasionally.", he says thoughtfully, one hand moving to scratch the beard at his chin.

Deen's smile, so ghostly in the flickering light, vanishes. "I was sorry to hear of Lady Oryana's passing. And yes, her brother, Fordric, is my knight. Or, well," he shuffles his feet against the gravel, "not /my/ knight, but the knight to whom I am in service." And here his smile flickers to life once more, bright in the darkness. "My first knight, Lord Brodny, also died in the plague. There has been so much loss," his tone grows slightly wistful and his eyes swing toward the outer walls, as if scanning the darkness. "Do you travel to the Isles for fun, Lord Ralph?"

A faint smile appears at the mention of Oryana's name, and Ralph lowers his gaze for a moment. "I have not been blessed in the area of marriage. But she was a kind woman indeed.", he admits with a sigh, before he looks up, his brown eyes focusing on Deen again. "Aye, I've heard as much. How unfortunate that you were to be at Granville when the Plague hit. Your family must be quite eager to see you again." He has of course lost relatives as well. Many of the main Fennim branch were claimed by the desease, and his own brother as well. The question brings a flicker to his eyes. "Does this sound like a fun trip to you?", he counters, shooting Deen an attentive glance. "No, we mean to engage in talks with the Queen of the Isles, to strengthen... no, establish a bond between our lands." It's not a secret, anyway.

"The Isles are a fun place." Though Deen rolls his shoulders, his tone is still somewhat defensive...it quivers at the edges like melting ice. "And we are going during the Onimoria. There will be great celebration." Fully in command of his voice now, he presses forward. "And though you did not ask for my opinion, Lord Ralph, I do prefer 'strengthen' to 'establish'. It does make me feel like my fostering in Granville was worth something." His smile is not unkind. "But I do hope we can strengthen those bonds. And, as an unmarried nobleman, I'm sure you will have an important part to play." He gives the Fennim lord an even, searching gaze.

A soft chuckle is the reaction, when Deen comments on the nature of the relationship between the Isles and the Two Rivers. Ralph nods. "Aye, strengthen may be the better choice of word there. We have had little dealings with your kingdom in the past though, apart from two trade agreements that are already several hundred years old. Your squiring here does mean something, of course. I did not mean any offense. It may even mean more that you are still alive." The curve of his smile diminishes a touch at the mention of marriage, and he lets out a low snort. "I am done with marriages, my lord." said in a low raspy voice as he shakes his head. "And besides, I am of a lower branch. A weary old man. Not a very desirable match for any noble lady of the Isles."

"The noble ladies of the Isles," Deen says with a laugh and a toss of his head, "will make up their own minds about you, I'm sure. In any event, they surely won't care what your own opinion of yourself is. Trust me. Because you will find it so." His eyes drift back out and over the darkness beyond the keep. "I fear none of us are done with marriages, my lord. Do try to have some fun while strengthening the bonds of our lands. If you do not, I will be forced to drag you out of whatever boring negotiation in which you wish to participate."

"I am sure you mean well, my lord, but I am not interested." Ralph replies with a low grumble. "I think two marriages are enough. And besides, as you already seem to suspect, my function will be a more official one, that of an advisor to Duke Alajos when it comes to negotiations of any kind." A faint smile there as he clarifies that. "I wouldn't be allowed to leave any of those 'boring' negotiations as you like to call them. But I feel there will be times of leisure as well." However, Deen's enthusiasm makes an amused smile appear on his features.

"More's the pity," Deen says with a little sigh, though his mouth is still half-quirked in a smile. "All the best things happen outside of those boring rooms." From somewhere in the cloak he wears, he pulls an apple and, as if to punctuate his thought, he bites cheerfully into the fruit. The sound is crisp. After taking a moment to chew and swallow, he says, "I'm glad to have met you, my lord. And I look forward to getting to know you on our journey. If there are things you need to know about the Isles on the way, I welcome the chance to talk of the lands of my birth. Lord Fordric has been indisposed lately..." He trails off, then offers a bow of his head. "For now, though, I will leave you to your thoughts. It seems matters of some weight occupy you."

A bit of air leaves Ralph's nose as he smiles, his gaze shifting to the apple in Deen's hand. "The pleasure is all mine, my lord. Until we will depart for Equis, I hope, you will enjoy your stay here at Woodwatch." His brows furrowing a touch at the mention of Fordric's state, he will add: "Indisposed? Has he fallen ill? Nothing serious I hope? Then I trust you are in Lord Urson's care at the moment?" A light twitch there at the corner of his mouth. A nod is offered in return as the young man turns to leave, but he does not hold him back. He will linger a bit longer in the courtyard, immersed in his thoughts.