675-08-14 - The Contest of Bards
| The Contest of Bards | |||||||
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| Summary: The Contest of Bards. A part of the Feast of Charity. | |||||||
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The young princess Barbeta Brais looks as beautiful as spring's first rose once more. After all, this week is very special week. Her first official feast! So, she moves between all the gathered people, commoners and nobles, in the grace, which was usual to her mother - the Queen. She speaks with one people, with others, trying to make sure that everything is prepared for the BATTLE of BARDS in this Feast of Charity.
Her slim as a twig stripped of its bark body is adorned with such a beautiful floor length gown which could be wore just by the princess. The color of obsidian lightweight, semi-lustrous fabric is fitted at the bodice and has a waistline that leads to a full skirt, which is made out of delicate, sheer, and transparent raven black fabric, layered with silvery tones because of its transparency. The corset of the gown forms square neckline, baring Barbeta's pale, flawless and soft skin as pure as a lily petal. The necklace and earring set adds a touch of delicate and dramatic nature-inspired beauty to her look. This jewellry is adorned with sparkling diamonds. It looks like designed to accent the pure skin of her neckline.
The young princess is followed by her guards and handmaiden, of course.
Oskar sits in a chair, face buried in a book, his icy eyes scaning its pages. The only noise he makes is the slight rustle of the pages turning. He is neither followed by preceded by anyone. He just sits there, and seems not to care about anything in the world. Until, that is, the Princess arrives. He gives a nod, the bare minimum required by etiquette, and impatently looks in case the Princess does something. As etiquette requires. But it's clear that he's mentally eager to just go back to his book.
The Princess didn't notice the man at first, nor his nod. When you are the main person without whom the event may fall apart - you don't see anything. You just walk through the crowded place and hear how everyone is trying to warn you, that they don't understand something, that they may fail and similar things.
However, when finally everything settles down and now just people has to gather in order to start event, Barbie flops to the chair just beside Oskar. It was one of these so inviting chairs.
The girl sighs in relief, "Finally! I am soooo tired!" She says more for herself,because her guards and handmaiden sits up a bit away, giving some privacy for the princess, whose elbow bumps into Oskar by accident.
She turns to the old man, "I am so sorry, my lord!" She giggles and glances at the book, then back at oskar, the book, Oskar, "Lord Lenouvi, right?" She smiles.
Oskar's book is "Epistemology and Mirmecology: How two Apparently Unrelated Fields of Knowledge Actually have More In Common than You Would Imagine". The kind of heavy stuff Oskar loves. Philosophy /and/ insects in one book? Oh, yeah, baby! "Not to worry, not to worry.", he grumbles. "I'm sure I'll survive the blow." He bows as etiquette requres. "Yes your Highness. And you must be Princess Barbeta Brais, right? I have read your biographies. Authorized, unauthorized, dubious, novelized, of dubious origin, and completely made up. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance." he says, not /really/ sounding like he actually means it.
The young girl blinks a few times, listening for Oskar. The surprise widens her eyes more and more with each word. When finally the old man finishes his speach, Barbie raises her hand to cover her lips, wanting to muffle the sound of her giggle, "My lord, are you sneering at me? I am just recently turned seventeen years old. I can't believe, that there are my biographies already, authorized, unauthorized, dubious, novelized, of dubious origin, and completely made up..."
She turns her gaze to the stage, empty for now, "However... out of curiosity, can you tell me, what people speaks about me in all these made up stories?"
Oskar says, "That is the point. Only seventeen. You barely know how the world works. See, people love gossip. Especially about the rich, powerful, and good-looking. And when such fetures are combined into one person like you, at the grade they are, well, believe me, biographies will sell. And if it will sell, people will make it." He rattles out all those compliments without any particular feeling in his voice, as if it was merely a technical thing. It's hard to understand if he really meant them as compliments or not. "For instance, should you as much as trip while climbing onto the stage during the festival? It'll be all over the mouths of the spinsters in the whole kingdom.""
Oskar says, "...the one which gets the palm has to be the one where you have saved a whole orphanage from burning down and killing all the children just by crying and making it rain all of a sudden. And I'm limiting myself to the borderline plausible made-up ones which sneak in occasional supernatural feats. I'm not even getting into the patently absurd ones where you can fly and breathe fire."
The girl leans back in her seat and closes her dark eyes for a moment. A wide grin curls up her lips, "Fly and breathe fire? Likea dragon?" She whsipers and quickly adds, "So, you telling me, that people love me and see like their saviour? And I thought, that rumors might be angry, formed by envy or similar things..." Barbie opens her eyes and looks up into the man, "Or you are trying to flatter me, my lord? I promise, I won't pout. Are there bad rumors about me?" She leans her head to the side and starts brushing tress curls with her fingers.
More and more people come into the Theatre. The even should start soon.
Oskar exclaims. "Of course there are! There always are about everyone! But... well, not really flatter. But..." He hesitates for a moment. "...Etiquette demands that such increscious voices are not brought up in polite conversation. But." He turns his head, and reaches into a pile of books previously hidden under his seat. "Let's se... let's see... Here." He pulls out a black, leather-bound book with the title, "Princess Barbeta: The Dark Secrets" "Extremely difficult to obtain, a veritable rarity. Available in an extremely limited number of copies, only on the black market. More than half of the most avid and well-connected book collectors in the kingdom didn't even manage to get their hand on one copy. It took an exceptional amount of effort just to /know/ it existed." And then, he just hands it casually to Barbeta. "You can keep it. I'm the only one who managed to snag two copies."
Barbeta can't hold her laugh this time, when she notices, that the man braught so many books into just a simple event, "Were you ready to read all the time and not watch the performance?"
However, she does not wait for an answer. The girl extands her hands and takes that book, placing it gently on her lap, "You surprise me... I thought, that books are rare, but if you have so many books in here, and state, that there are even more just about me... Well... I am surprised!"
The man walks up on the stage and starts speaking.
"Welcome! Welcome everyone to th Feast of Charity arranged by our Princess Barbeta Brais, the Silver leaf of the Maple! Please, enjoy the music of our bards and choose your favorite! The winner will get a golden flute, which was once used by Lucius Merdook - the most famous bard of all time! However, all your money donated during the event will be given to the Orphan house! Now, meet the first participant - Yllus of Beresgond."
The Herald climbs down from the stage and a young redhead man changes him. People offer applause for him and grows quite in excite.
Barbeta does not give much attention to the man. She peeks at the book in Oskar's hands, "What is Epistemology and Mirmecology?" She asks, fixing her gaze on the man, who tries to play on his instrument, somehow, letting out a few random tones for now.
Oskar says, "Yes, books /are/ rare and expensive. But some nobles waste their money on women, some on horses, yet others in jewelry, or castles. I stick to the important things." And then he shrugs. "And, as I've said, books about gossip... sell. THIS one is rare, but you can go to pretty much any book dealer and, if you have enough to pay, you can get these biographies about you as well. It's probably best if you send a servant, though, people might be not really at ease selling them directly to /you/." He returns his eyes to the book. "And, yes. That was exactly what I was planning to do. If you will excuse me, now..."
There is an area to the side of the stage where the contestants are lining up for their presentation of skill. Among them one particular young man of brown hair and handsome features. Leander Vainhill wears a slight variation from the colours of Beresgond. There is red and black but also a bit yellow thrown into the mix in his long sleeved tunic and tightly fitting breeches. The look in his eyes is definitely confident, given the current performance of said Yllus of Beresgond, and yes, there is a light smirk sneaking into his mien, when his gaze wanders over the audience and brushes a blushing maiden here and there, as he catches them staring at him. Not that he is not used to that. The lute under his arm is definitely more than a few years old, it shows already a bit of wear.
"I waaaaaaaas still just a littleeeeee boooooy!" howls Yllus of Beresgond without any rhythm after it's chaotic musical introduction. Even if that is not enough, the boy has such a high voice, that the glass could break. The first sentence of his song is enough to raise a wave of irritation across the crowd and commoners start dragging out their rotten fruits.
"Wheeeeeeeen I saaaaaaw you nuuuuuuuu-," and Yllus of Beresgond is hushed by the tomatto, which splaches into his forehead. The hail of fruits starts. The boy throws his instrument onto the ground, covers his head with arms and runs down from the stage, followed by a few more carrots, cabbages and potatoes.
Even a poor herald's leg is hitted by smelly onion, "People, people...Calm down, calm down! Maybe the start was not so good, by I promise you, that the voice of Jisabelle will bring you into your passionate dreams!" And, just in case, the herald runs out of the stage in a hurry.
Barbeta watches all the show with an amused grin in her pale features. Of course, she sometimes peeks at the man, who is so eager to read instead of watching.
Though, even more often she glances at the people she chose to walk around the crowds, especially where nobles are seated, and gather the money.
The performance is /not/ exactly easy on the ears. Leander takes it with amusement though, flinching when he sees the poor minstrel is attacked with vegetables that are already far beyond their prime. After all it cannot hurt his competition is almost booed off the stage. The next announcement of the herald catches his interest though, and at once he starts looking about, wondering who this Jisabelle might be.
Silence. Someone from the stage makes wild 'come here' motions. And then, a scrawny little thing, barely five feet tall, is startled into attention. "Ah! Yes! Coming! Sure!" She scrambles up to the stage, holding a violin in one hand, and a bow in the other, barely mantaining her balance as she runs up so. "Uhm. Er.", she says, squeezing the index finger of one hand into the fist of the other, and swinging a bit left and right, the hem of her long dress widening and narrowing with the rotational movement. "I. Am. Er. J-..." She looks down in the audience. A huuuuuuuuuge man, easily two times as tall, and twice as wide, and with a face that might identify him as her father, mouths to her, 'Jisabelle!', with exaggerated mouth movements, "..J... Jizal- Jisabelle! YES! I AM JISABELLE!", she says, stiffening and staring ahead of her. She's starting to sweat. Her voice is acute, but not shrill or unpleasant. In fact, it's as if when adulthood hit, her body was notified just barely in advance enough to grow the minimum legal amount of curves, but her height and her voice were kept completely out of the loop and caught completely unprepared. "I. Am. Here. T...To sing a song for you." Panicked face. Big showtime grin. Panicked face. Look sideways. "Ahem. Er...." She's starting to sweat again, and standing there, just holding her violin. She hunches over a bit and stagewhispers to the large man, "What now, dad?"
<FS3> Leander rolls Athletic: Good Success.
The handsome minstrel looks at first a bit disappointed to see that Jizabelle is not the curvy feminine and enticing sort of woman he mayhaps would have preferred to see. His attentive eyes will notice the nervous state of the girl, follow the exchange between her and the large man, and after a short moment of hesitation, Leander Vainhill will avoid taking the stairs but jump up onto the stage with the grace of a skilled tumbler.
"Sing?", he will suggest with a voice that is indeed easy on the ears, as he leans over to Jisabelle. "And maybe I can be of help." Said as his lute is taken from beneath his arm to present it to the crowd as well as the girl. "What kind of song where you to perform?", he mutters, this intended for Jisabelle's ears only. "Mayhaps I know it. Oh. And by the way. I'm Leander."
Jisabelle stiffens there for a little longer. "I'm going to sing... sing.", she says. Grins. Panicked face.She turns to Leander. Grin. Panicked face. With trembling hands, she starts to take the bow to the violin. Wait. Was that... a response? And then, when the melody starts, two things become obvious. First of all. She's going to sing... "Sing!". Yes, "Sing!" is a rather famous ballad. Quite rhythmic, and an interesting counterpoint piece where one singer exclaims "Sing!" at strategic points (on the beat of the chorus, mainly), while a second one carries on with the melody. And, second thing, boy, is the girl /good/ with a violin. Passages as smooth as pebbles lace into each other in the intro, until the vocals kicks in. And the effect is... unsettling? It's as if... to put it in modern terms, if she had two voice actors, a comedian for the spoken parts and an amazing singer for for the sung parts. She doesn't sound anything like she did just a few moments ago!
Of course Leander knows it! Upon recognizing the piece, a grin flashes on his comely face and he will move beside her, laying a pattern with his lute as a foundation for Jisabelle's violin. Where she will carry on with the melody, the perfect delivery of which does baffle the minstrel at first, in a way he almost forgets to interject his part of "Sing!", Leander will focus on the counterpoint and accompaniment of the piece, obviously having a great time while doing so, while managing - and this is indeed a hard task for him! - to remain rather unobtrusively in the background.
Having arrived to watch at least part of this event, Argon has placed himself in the crowd now, keeping silent as he watches the performances at the moment. Smiling as he does.
Jisabelle carries on. It appears that when she's singing, she forgets about the whole world around her. Maybe it's because her eyes are closed, or how her body sways, no, /flows/ with the music. She has some odd movements, sure, but to someone knowledgeable in the structure of the song, it can be seen that she's literally /living/ the song with every single cell of her body. It's only in the middle that she seems to snap out of it, and notices the other bard. She pirouettes aside and suddenly switches to a support part, to give Leander free reign of the stage.
A light shake of his head is given, once Leander sees Jisabelle moving to the side, in a silent "No!". But then her violin already takes up the pattern he had played on his lute earlier, which leaves the minstrel to play his own flashy version of the lead. His gaze drifting once again to Jizabelle, as if to inquire whether she really means this, and receiving a nod of sorts or something in that vein, Leander Vainhill will launch into the verse with his charming tenor voice, looking to his duet partner each time she is to interject her counterpart.
<FS3> Leander rolls Singing: Good Success.
Jisabelle does mean this, abso/lute/ly. She nods furiously, bobbing her head as she does so, her mass of chin-long mass of unruly russet hair flailing about as she does so. The perfect headbanger. She does sing her part very well, although, maybe due to the emotion, or not really being familiar with this part, she does make a couple of small mistakes. Something the trained ear of Leander will surely pick up, but which most of the untrained audience won't even notice. But that's nothing compared to when, all of a sudden, the melody switches and she goes panickfaced again. The kind of panickfaced one goes when, for instance, she has UTTERLY forgotten the harmony part of a particular, slightly different passage. Which makes sense, she had probably reharsed the melody for this performance. But, at least, she's quick to think on her feet. She twirls her violin, and starts rap-a-tap-tapping on the wooden frame of her instrument, making it a flute-two-voiceduet-violin-drums kind of... can you call a duet a solo? Probably not. But it's what a rock-guitar-solo-on-drums-only would be, if you had two voices and a flute instead of a guitar, and a tapped violin instead of drums. And... a medieval ballad instead of rock. You get the idea.
Argon smiles as he listens carefully now, but otherwise keeps quiet as he does. No need for a spectator to interfere with the happenings, right?
<FS3> Leander rolls Lute: Great Success.
Leander looks up, noticing the accompanying pattern gets suddenly lost in the virtuosity of his own little lute solo, the expression on his face that of horror at first, that Jisabelle would indeed blunder now and spoil that charming magical performance by not REMEMBERING THE CHORDS??? Her change of tactics earns her all the gratitude of the minstrel though, as his solo even gets more attention when it is only accompanied by the rhythmic tapping against the violin. As his fingers run over the strings of his lute with astonishing finesse, Leander slowly relaxes and leads the song back to the verse, and signalling this to Jisabelle with a light nod, so she can fiddle her way back in with her violin.
And back does she fiddle her way, oh how she does! Well, she does it, at least. A litle variation here and there, a few passages with a little change, that's enough to keep the song lively. Apart from that, nothing much to write home about, compared with the first verse. And when it's time for the chorus to hit again, there goes the headbanging again! Apparently, she had fun with it the first time, so there we go again. This time, however, she keeps firmly in control of the well-reharsed melodic part. Given how comparatively inferior her performance in the support part was, one can deduce that, rather than being an instinctive genius, the quality of this performance is due primarily to long, obsessive practice. But her movement... there /is/ passion in the girl. She clearly eats, drinks, and breathes music. She just seems to... have to eat, drink, and breathe a lot to get high quality results.
Oskar glances up from his book, briefly. "Oh, good. The half-pint stuck to the part she reharsed this time.", he mutters to himself. He turns a page. "Stick to what you know, I always say."
Leander has gone back to accompanying Jisabelle, but not without adding sightly flashy additions to the somehow monotone pattern. He smiles over at her when he sees she is much more comfortable in this arrangement of their roles, and how could he not be happy for her to enjoy the piece. After all it is the love for music that makes a minstrel choose this path. Sensing the song comes to its end he will finish with a few chords, giving her a nod of thanks for sharing this performance with him.
And yes, after a pause, the audience applauds, starting off with a few slightly hesitant claps but soon filling the theatre with a ruckus the herald will have a hard time to subdue for his next announcement.
Jisabelle is standing there, arms spread, her chest heaving with each breath, looking like she's just done with some feat of athletics. At first she just smiles and breathes deeply, probably as a result of the adrenalin rush, but then, she gets back to being her usual everyday self. Panicked face. Grin. Panicked face.
Give her brain a few seconds to kick into gear (or, just kick one single thought into realization), and she has a 'startling realization moment'. She bows, steps aside, bows, stands up again, and, panickgrinning, she sweeps the air with her arm, hunching slightly, and ends up pointing her open palm to Leander. In the universal "Ladies and Gentlemen... the artist!" gesture. Someone so close will be able to see she's all shaking. Her legs in particular.
Leander will move to the side of the girl, and reaching for her hand whilst holding his instrument in the other he will lead her into a proper bow to the audience, murmuring a "well done, Jisabelle," to her as he straightens with her again. Then letting go of her to step to the side and pointing back to Jisabelle with his free hand in a dramatic "No, she is the star actually! I only helped out a little!" gesture.
Jisabelle looks back at Leander, seeping gratitude from every pore. "...Thank you, Mr.Bard Sir!" It is now The huge man from the audience rushes up to the stage to compliment the little bard. "Well done, Jisabelle! Dad knew you would make it!" He gives her such a bear hug that it's a wonder she doesn't end up squished like an insect, and then continues. "You see? All your worries were unfounded! People /do/ like you! You don't have to be jealous of your little sister! She isn't always taking the attention away from you like you keep worrying about!" And that is when a taller and shapelier version of Jisabelle walks up to the stage. The curvy feminine and enticing sort of woman Leander mayhaps would have preferred to see. "My big sister made it!" 'Dad', in the meantime, tuns to Leander. "And thanks to you as well, young man. See, my little girl is so shy, it's good that someone gave her a little courage..." He hunches over to him, and whispers, "...she has a jealousy problem with her younger sister. Jisabelle has low self-esteem because she thinks nobody looks at her, but they are interested only in her siser..." Meanwhile, Jisabelle's sister is standing nearby, looking very... distracting.
Leander will step back when the large man takes the stage to hug small Jisabelle, and of course, he cannot help but overhear what is being said. The mention of a sister does not really attract his attention, but that changes rapidly when said sister appears and manages to draw his gaze for longer than a mere moment. Barely able to shift his attention to the father when thanks are offered, Leander will accept them with a fluid albeit less pronounced bow to the man. "Oh... all I did is help her out with some accompaniment." Then smiling faintly at the whispered comment, his eyes drifting from one sister to the other he will nod. "I see." And definitely understand. "It has been a pleasure Jisabelle. I'm sure you will do well in the contest," Leander remarks next to the shy girl, doing his best not to glance towards that comely sister. At least not while he is speaking with the marvelous violinist. A smile is offered, before he jumps off the stage to reclaim his place among those waiting for their turn.
The town of Threewater had been a busy place these past days. With artists selling their works on the market, tumblers and entertainers providing diverting performances, and weapon and gold smiths presenting their works, with a great part of the earnings being donated for charity purposes. And all had been organized by the young Princess Barbeta Brais. One of the highlights of the week is taking place right now, int the renowned Palladium Theatre: A veritable contest of minstrels from all over the country! The audience had been treated so far to a rather mediocre performance of Yllus of Beresgond, which had been easily topped by the next. A young shy maiden with the name of Jisabelle had found unplanned support by the famous Leander Vainhill, and the both of them had performed a charming piece called 'Sing!', with her fiddling quite impressively along to his lute playing. The song has just come to an end, drowned in the applause of the audience.
Barbie watched all the performances full of excitement and pride in her eyes. These emotions stay in her features and further. She is still sitting beside the Lord Oskar. Sometimes she peeks at his books and gently pokes the man, "The music is so wonderful, yes? And..." Her gaze wanders to the people responsible for gathering the money, "I think we will be very successful. Maybe we even will build a new house for orphans!" She just looks around the crowd one more time as if trying to see a specific person somewhere there. Then briefly disappointment flashes in her dark eyes, before the young princess' lips curl into another, a bit forced smile, and she looks back into the scene, waiting for another performer.
The notoriously publicity-shy Duke of Woriscant has even come to Beresgond to attend the festival. There are whispers that he is using the minstrel's contest to choose one of them for his own impending wedding feast, though he has not really said anything himself. Having greeted the Princess Barbeta, the Lord Oskar and whatever other nobles are nearby, he's slunk into a seat and drifted off into quite contented silence while he listens to the performances on stage.
Oskar, still sitting next to Barbeta, does not lift his sleepy eyes from the copy of 'Epistemology and Mirmecology' he's reading. It's close to the end, but worry not, he has a pile ready next to him for when that happens. Taking advantage of the pause between contestants, he comments, "The last one got somewhat acceptable towards the end. Did not make me want to claw my ears out like the previous one." He flips the page. "Did not distract me too much." He then turns to look at Barbeta for a moment. "Oh, and, regarding your question from earlier. Epistemology is the science of knowledge. Mirmecology deals with the study of ants." He finally returns to read.
Meanwhile, Jisabelle walks down from the stage, more stunned than one would humanly imagine someone to be. At first she walks towards the back of the stage, then, when noticing her mistake, turns right, almost tripping, and after some aimless wandering, manages to climb down the stage, leaving room for the next bard.
<FS3> Leander rolls Singing: Good Success. <FS3> Leander rolls Lute: Success.
...which happens to be... "Leander Vainhill! will be our next contestant!", the herald calls with a smile. "After accompanying fair Jisabelle here just a moment ago, it is time for this famous singer to shine on his own!"
The bard in question does indeed look surprised, he had obviously hoped for a short break to relax a little from the adrenalin rush of being in the spot light. But then again, it is his element, so how could he object? Again he jumps on stage, showing off his prowess, performs some playful dancing steps and smiles towards the audience, from which excited cries of some younger females can easily be heard. A bow is offered, before Leander brings his lute out from under his arm, and the crowd grows silent.
"April is in my mistress' eyes April is in my mistress' eyes, my mi-stre-ess' eyes. April is in my mistress' eyes, And July in her eyes has place. And July in her eyes, her eyes has place. Within her bosom, Within her bosom Is Septe-e-e-e-e-mber But in her heart, But in her heart, her heart's a cold Dece-mber. But in her heart, But in her heart, her heart's a cold Dece-mber."
Leander's voice does indeed sound sweet as he describes the slightly sobering qualities of his mistress, alas, his lute playing does not manage to show off his skill, as in his previous performance.
Jisabelle, back at her seat in the front row, having gone silent after excitedly screaming her throat off, and having thrown the bow that previously was in her hair (...that's what 'a bow is offered' means, right?) is now looking with dreamy eyes, not missing a single passage of this execution.
Barbeta Brais, the young princess straightens even more proudly, when she hears the song of the bard on the stage. Not caring about comment of the lord Oskar beside, she pokes him slightly, "See! See! Such talents in my event! Isn't that amazing?" Her smile broadens and radiates as bright light as the sun could. The girl even stands up and claps for the man, before taking the most beautiful fabric of her skirt into the palms, in order to raise it a bit, that the fabric wouldn't touch floor, and take a seat back.
Her gaze wanders across the crowd again. The young princess nods for those, who are gathering money from the crowd, but this time her look does not linger on them. Instead, she is eagerly looking for something or someone.
Duke Alajos is still sitting in silence, his reaction to the young female singer not giving anything away. When Leander is announced, he does straighten a little in his seat, frowning a bit at the choice of song and the quality of his play. "Surely there'll be more minstrels coming up or I feel this might have been a waste of time.", he grouses to his companions.
Leander bows, a slight twitch at the corner of his mouth indicating he is not quite satisfied with his own performance. But this bow does not mean pealing a bow out of his hair, but offering the courteous gesture of appreciation to the crowd that applauds, albeit with less enthusiasm than after Jisabelle's performance. He then turns to leave with a sigh, not jumping off the stage like before, but walking down the stairs at the side.
"Vainhill!", someone calls suddenly, with a menacing undertone. Leander will shoot a slightly alarmed glance towards the audience, scanning the people briefly, before he hurries off, soon vanishing towards the area that leads back stage. An undoubtedly panicked look to his face.
Oskar deadpans, "My princess, this abundance of talent in your event makes me exceedingly happy.", sounding anything but. "So, since I am clearly a talentless hack, can I be excused from this display of virtuosity and retreat back to my uncouth burrow? I will do everyone nothing but good. I know I'll certainly be doing it to me." Despite not seeming to detach his eyes from the page, he must somehow notice the princess scanning the crowd, "If it is my enjoyment you are looking for, Your Highness, sorry, it's firmly stuck back at home, and I can assure you it is not coming here anytime soon. The sooner we get this over with, the sooner we can be rejoined." And when "Vainhill!" is yelled, he does not even bother to turn and look.
Next to young Duke Alajos his older sister Duchess Ortensia Istivean produces a smile that is neither broad nor radiant, "If you count the moons just right little April should be out of this one's mistress by spring. His lark voice should offer him quite a few places to put in a bit of ...April. "
The shouting catches her attention and leads it towards the crowd, raising a brow at the sudden hurry of the minstrel and the curiousity of the princess.
"It is a contest, brother. There surely should be more than two - and if you get bored watching them pluck their strings get busy and make friends or foes among the nobles. That's what these events are made for, if you don't insist on enjoying the music. "
Among those people watching appears a man, about forty years of age. Slightly ruffled dark brown hair does find its echo in the slightly twisted grimace of the man, who is obviously not that into the fine arts. Grey-blue eyes drift from the crowd to the fleeing minstrel and he laughs, the mockery clearly discernible in his tone. Using the opportunity to get further ahead, pushing his way through other courtiers, and not caring really if he may appear rude. Lord Erek Ivounel - according to Ortensia Istivean's recent remark - is probably more foe than friend.
There is not just an infectious laugh, of course, but also quite an infectious grumpiness. The young princess frowns slightly and all her straight posture disappears. The young girl slumps a bit in her seat, less caring about her gown, "Yes, yes, my lord..." She raises her gaze up into the sky for a moment. The young girl bites her lip a bit thoughtfully and may look even more haughty than usually. The smile fades from her pale features, bringing that usual speechless expression for the silver leaf of the Maple.
The minstrel's flight and subsequent mayhem catches Alajos' attention and he watches for a bit, until the next minstrel walks onto the stage, this one a middle-aged bearded fellow who looks like he at least knows how handle a lyre properly and also how to work the audience that greets him with pleasant applause. The man introduces himself as Ilves the Bard and begins to play a jaunty tune, getting some to clap along with him. Alajos leans back into his chair and looks at Ortensia. "I am not here to waste time with idle chit chat, be it with friend or foe.", he tells his sister and frowns, "You know I am here to find a capable minstrel for the wedding..."
The Ivounel lord's face twists into a smile as he glimpses the princess somewhere before him. "Your highness!", he greets, hardly noticing Ilves the Bard, not caring for the performance overly much. After all, it is to see and be noticed.
A man emerges from somewhere in the crowd, further to the front, apparently running after Leander Vainhill. The man seems to be a noble, and those versed in heraldry may recognize the colours of House Bainsworth in his attire.
Oskar sighs at the bard disappearing. "Thank goodness that's over. That felt like a year." He goes silent for a moment. Then turns towards Barbeta. "No need to be so sad for me and my enjoyment. I'm sure we will be reunited, eventually. You just go ahead and have fun without me. I hope it's clear I don't want you to suffer.", he comments. And then hastly picks up his book and resumes reading, and deadpans, "I just don't want you to disturb me." And when he sees all the commotion, he closes his book and sets it diligently on the pile next to him. "On the other hand... I believe things are just starting to become interesting."
The young princess flinches, when she hears someone addressing her. She slowly turns to glance at the man and nods her head to him slowly, "Aaaah... The father of my lady-in-waiting, I am pleased to see you here too. I hope, you are enjoying the events?" Barbie's lips curl into a polite smile, finally again. The curse of infectious grumpiness fades.
However, the girl soon looks back at the stage, listening to the new bard.
"And they are so hard to find, since their voices are all dampened by all those years of practicing laments. I see by now you are quite versed in this art as well. You'll find one to please you - and if their beards are too scruffy for your taste or their skin too smooth you can always get a cage of birds singing just as sweetly," the Duchess answers her brother "And obviously I have to teach you a lesson on wasting time, when ruling our family's lands the matter of friends and foes should get more than this dainty frown of yours. Alas, you may keep frowning here or come with me, I shall join her Grace and the other for a while."
Ortensia raises straightening the red sammet of her skirts and an expectant look. Like little swarms of pilchards fleeing fish of prey the crowd makes room for her so that she arrives within a few heartbeats "Your Highness, mylords,"
Alajos waves his hand about dismissively. "You go and join the others, sister. I shall keep listening to the music and see if anyone may be worth hiring for the wedding. That fellow isn't too bad.", he acknowledges, nodding towards Ilves on the stage who's changed to a rather nice ballad now. He waits for his sister to be off, then slumps back into happy silence.
Lord Erek will smile, his gruff manner fading just a tad, when Barbeta greets him so amiably. "Princess Barbeta, how good to see you! But where is my little daughter? I had hoped to see her here with you? As well as with her betrothed, Lord Argon. But they are nowhere to be seen...?" When Ortensia approaches, the Ivounel will offer a bow to her as well. "Duchess." The greeting brief and with all the warmth the Ivounel can muster - which is very little indeed.
We are still at the Palladium Theatre in Threewater, a lovely town in Beresgond, where after several days of artistry and entertainment having been presented on the Main Square before the Theatre a minstrel contest is taking place. There already have been a few contestants, with performances of varying quality. One bard, a Leander Vainhill, was even seen rushing off the stage after his performance, hearing his name being called, soon to be pursued by a nobleman in Bainsworth colors.
The Duke of Woriscant had been engaged in conversation with his sister Ortensia, whereas Princess Barbeta had mainly conversed with the eccentric Oskar Lenouvi - until Lord Erek Ivounel had showed up. Inquiring after the whereabouts of his daughter, Lady Livessa.
The Princess looks around, looking for Erek's little daughter, "I am not so sure... You know, my lord, when two people are so in love, they might prefer a quiet walking in the park together!" The girl chuckles, adding, "Have I told you, that your daughter is a talanted painter? I think, I did..."
When other nobles join the group, Barbeta politely nods to them. She gives a brief glance to lord Oskar, before looking at these, who are gathering money around. One of the boys, responsible for gathering donations for orphans, comes closer to the group. His basket is half full. The boy bows deeply to the nobles and extands that basket, "To be doing good deeds is man's most glorious task... Please, give a coin for our orphans..." And he lowers his gaze waiting for the generosity of nobles.
Livessa is there with her guard, earlier she had Argon win her a little doll which she is carrying in her arms. She slowly moves with her small group of guardians and she smiles as she gets slowly closer to the princess and her fatther.
With Ortensia going over to greet some other nobles somewhere, Alajos is only too happy to slink back into his seat to focus on the performance again. The current minstrel is a fairly young fellow who certainly knows how to get the females in the audience on his side. The young Duke seems slightly less impressed though, a smirk curling the corner of his lip.
Jisabelle, from her vintage point in the audience, is totally on the site of the current fairly young fellow minstrel. Totally.
Erek's brows furrow at Barbeta's remark. "You do not really mean what you are saying there...?", he inquires, a touch bewildered perhaps by the words of the princess. "They may be betrothed, but that is not an excuse for improper ways of courting, your highness." A slight clearing of his throat follows when the boy with the basket approaches. A hesitant stare shifts from said basket to the poor boy's face before it drifts sideways, towards Barbeta. And then, very slowly the Steward of Caastle Equitaine digs into one of his pockets to extract a single coin and deposits it into the basket, a light sigh leaving his lips.
The current delivery of the song seems impeccable indeed, with little that could disturb the prefect moment, were it not for the sudden commotion, coming from the area behind the stage. There is shouting among those further to the front when the colorfully clothed minstrel from before reappears, the expression in his eyes far from calm, as he looks behind him, only to launch into a hurried run next towards the theatre's exit. His persuer, a grim looking man in his mid-twenties, who only pauses briefly before he runs after him, drawing the slim blade that hangs by his side.
Barbeta steps a little bit closer to lord Erek. She shakes her head, "My lord, I didn't mean, that my uncle and your daughter are all alone... They would be with guards and handmaiden, but... they are just shadows for two loving hearts. However..." She lowers her gaze to the man's pocket. One coin... Just one coin?.. She was ready to open her lips to add something, but when she notices Livessa. The smile comes back to her cheeks, "My lady! Here you are! Your father was looking for you!"
The boy sighs, seeing how just one coin is dropped into hsi basket and moves forward.
Alajos frowns darkly at the commotion that interrupts the performance and even looks a little upset. But then he distracted by the boy's appearance who advances down the row with his basket. He hasn't really followed what the boy wants and why he's there, but he gets the idea of him collecting coins for some cause. So he rummages through his pockets and tosses a handful of coins into the basket. How much it is worth? He has no idea. The Duke leaves financial stuff to cousin Ralph.
Livessa coughs a little as she sees the princess lean almost too close to her father. A flash of warning in the young girls eyes, she would so not have her family torn apart by some young nobles flirting. She slowly inches herself between the pair and she smiles to her father "Greetings Father, Lord Argon wanted to win me a doll, he did it on his first attempt at the darts."
"Ah, there you are," Erek says, his brows jumping upwards when Livessa brings her presence to their attention, his expression softening a touch when he hears the explanation of his daughter. "How charming of him," he remarks, brushing the trophy held out to him with a fleeting gaze. "A pity your mother couldn't come, with her light cold. And Verlak's staying with her to keep her company.", is added in an afterthought. The duke will get a pointed glance from the Ivounel, when his donation is ostentatiously more than that he himself has offered, but no comment will leave his lips.
The fleeing minstrel finds his way out barred suddenly, by two tall fellows stepping into his view. He tries to evade them by diving sideways, into the crowd.
<FS3> Opposed Roll -- Leander=Athletic Vs Bainsworth2=4+3 < Leander: Good Success Bainsworth2: Success < Net Result: Leander wins - Marginal Victory
Grim hands grasp the air where the minstrel had stood mere fractions of a second before, and Leander does his best to disappear in the crowd, until he /totally by accident/ appears beneath the chair, Lord Oskar Lenouvi is seated on in deep contemplation of his book.
Oskar does not unglue his eyes from the book he's reading. But, nonetheless, he grabs another, particularly large one titled "Shocking Revelations Princess Barbeta Does Not Want You To Know About Her!" from his pile, and hands it to the minstrel. "There, hide behind this.", he mutters, in a low voice. "It's the largest book I have. Should be the best to hide behind."
When Livessa comes to speak with her father, Barbeta withdraws a bit, offering them both a polite smile and fixing her look on the stage. However, her attention is quickly drawn by Oskar's words. She looks at him,and then just shrugs a bit, likely not noticing the boy beneath Oskar's chair and thinking that the old man is speaking with himself.
Leander will just nod, before he hides his handsome visage with the still slightly alarmed expression behind the book, remaining where he is, beneath the chair of the Lenouvi. Which will result in an odd view indeed, as it looks as if Oskar holds one book with his hands, whilst holding another with his feet, creating the illusion of the nobleman reading TWO BOOKS AT A TIME...? The disguise seems to be perfect however, as even the Princess does not spot the minstrel in this most perfect of all hiding places.
Alajos looks annoyed by the disturbance but leans forward to check what's happening and keep an eye on things. This could still get interesting.
Oskar either has some twisted sense of humour, or is willing to go to any length to quiet things down and be able to read in silence. So he casts his eyes alternately between the two books, further reinforcing the illusion of multitasking.
The three men seem to comb all of the theatre for the 'poor minstrel', and it does not take long until the one with the rapier approaches the group of princess and nobles. Swiftly sheathing his weapon once he recognizes the princess, the man will offer a bow. "Your highness. My lords amd ladies. My name is Ebenezer Bainsworth." He smiles apologetically, his mien already showing the signs of worry uncharacteristic for his rather young age, but overall it emits an air of anger and grief.
Livessa looks to her father and she smiles at the Princess's retreat of her father, she looks around and her eyes fall on the person speaking. "I wish I knew some poetry".
Princess Barbeta looks at the trio, who just approached them. He leans her head to the side a bit thoughtfully, "Yess?..." drawls the girl, "Is something wrong? Why are you in this zone? It's just for nobles and their servants."
The person speaking would be young Lord Ebenezer Bainworth. Alas, this one is not up for offering poetry at the moment. When he has gathered his wits he will give the princess her reply. "With all due respect, your highness, I am of House Bainsworth, a renowned family of Beresgond." There is a light tremble in his voice. Whether of indignation at Barbeta's haughty reply, or for other reasons, remains unclear.
Oskar while reading, drones, "In that case, I recommend 'Introduction to Poetry for the Unwashed Masses', by Braham Mastiff. Best way to start." He raises his sleepy eyes to Ebenezer Bainsworth. "Greetings.", he replies. And, after returning to his book, he simply quips, "What Her Highness said."
Livessa looks to the man and then her father, before she watches the speaker once more. She nibbles on her lips slightly as she watches the princess and the one who musent be.
Barbeta slowly raises her eyebrow and hmmmms a bit, "Oh, yes yes! I am sorry, my lord. I blame a tiring day. I had to do so many things, that... Well, forgive me," she gives a polite nod for the man, before gathering her skirts and taking a seat beside Oskar one more time. Then she releases her skirts, letting them spread all around the ground, even covering a part of Oskar's feet.
There may be an ever so slight movement against Barbeta's skirts, only she may notice. A small sign of appreciation by the bard beneath the chair, but nothing more. As he probably assumes she must have spread her skirts there on purpose.
"A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness..." Duchess Ortensia, who walks through the crowd in luscious redness, chosing a path to lead her towards Oskar and Barbetta, her attentive, dark blue eyes trickling down on them. Gently she plucks one of the noblemen's books "But in the light of a feast - I consider it an acceptable statement, yes, if it wasn't for the precious books to be stained with wax and sweat and wine. I have had a few conversations about this matter with my dear husband," she comments "but I do hope you enjoy this event."
The young princess is eyed in a special shade of curiosity. "Your Grace."
Oskar glances up at Ortensia for a moment, but says nothing. He then returns to read. "You are cultured. You make borrow my book for a short while.", he states. Well, that's probably the biggest compliment he has offered anyone this day.
When Barbeta feels a small movement against her skirt, she squirms a bit, smoothing the fabric of her skirt and leaning her legs a bit to one side. Likely, she thought it was a breeze or something like that. Maybe even a rat, but she is not afraid of them.
The girl raises her look up a bit, looking over everyone around her. The smile is no longer on her pale features. Nor she can focuse her attention on the scene anymore. Maybe she is just tired?
When Ortensia comes closer, Barbeta just briefly glances at the other woman and offers a nod, "Dutchess Ortensia..."
Lord Erek has watched the proceedings for a while, unsure how he should act, maybe. There may be a slightly pointed glance towards Barbeta's skirts, and the part of the book that can be glimpsed next to Oskar's legs. Erek clears his throat, when he notices Barbeta's reaction, and assuming some impropriety has taken place he will offer: "Aren't you feeling well, your highness? Maybe you'd want me to escort you back to the inn where you are staying?"
Ebenezer Bainsworth will study the small gathering for another moment, before he bows. "Excuse me, your highness. I was looking for that scoundrel, but as he is not here, I will leave you to your enchanting company..."
"And you are refreshingly blunt. You may borrow a short while of my time one day," is Ortensia's amused answer. The slight movement of Barbeta's skirts on the other hand... "Which of the singers would you prefer, your Grace? They have all shown some surprising talents, haven't they?" A little moment longer a hawkish glance lingers on the younger girl, before she purses her lips and turns towards Ebenezer "A scoundrel you said? Ah, tell us what this one has done to gain this dainty title!"
The Bainsworth had already been about to leave, when Ortensia's question makes him turn and shoot her a glance that in its unconcealed emotion will signal her she has hit a /very/ sore point. "Tis not a trifle, Your Grace. And certainly no source for amusement," he will reply, with an earnest expression to his features that may be uncommon for a lad in his early twenties.
The perceptive princess may notice a slightly muffled sound from behind her skirts, a deep sigh, but in all that ruckus, who can tell?
"Very well then," Ebenezer continues. "my sister was disgraced, in a severe manner that got her with child. She is serving in the former Temple of Felgurna in Farris now, tending to the sick and wounded - as one of the Sisters." The Sisters being young unwed women, that devote their lives to the healing arts, are never to marry.
When lord Erek speaks with the princess again, she offers the man a smile, "Thank you, my lord. I would appreciate it. I feel really tired!" The girl stands up and turns to Oskar, "It was nice meeting you, my lord."
Then she looks at Ortensia, offering her a warm, but tired smile. Then Princess waves for her handmaiden and guards to come along, and moves closer to lord Erek.
However, the words of Ebenezer Bainsworth makes her stop. She glances at the man, "A scoundrel?" The girl allows for the dutchess to ask her question, before adding, "The Fiest of Charity was arranged to have at least a short pause from all the troubles and wars..." Then she inhales some air and shakes her head after hearing the lord's explanation, "I do not have nor energy, nor mood for that," she whispers quietly under her nose, and likely, just lord Erek will be able to hear that to whom she is standing. Barbie raises her gaze to him, "Can we go?"
Oskar chimes in, "Indeed. As despicable the act you describe is, this is neither the time nor the place for disruption. We are here to help the orphans first, and" He casts a sleepy glance towards the stage. "enjoy the music.", he finally adds, with a tone which implicitly adds, 'if you can call that /ejoyment/'. "So, while supporting in principle your concerns, I heartily recommend the public peace be not disturbed and this chase be resumed at a later hour, once the event is over."
Erek will offer Barbeta his arm, polite courtesy as required, one brow rising in acknowledgement of her muttered remark, a faint smile signalling her he agress with her. "You highness. You need rest. The feast has been quite remarkable so far." And so he will lead her off, after shooting his daughter a glance. "I will be right back, Livessa."
The Princess's reaction does indeed put the Bainsworth off. He seems to be about to give some heated retort, when Oskar suddenly speaks. "Very well." A line appears between his brows. "If that is your wish, your highness. My lord. Alas, the scoundrel is nowhere to be seen!" And so he continues to look for the minstrel, albeit a little less obtrusively than before, in other places.
