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(Archive) Aebbe's Intervention

Tags: Aebbe,  Bernar

Short Summary: In which Aebbe expresses concern to Bernar for "the delicate flower" Oriana's drinking problem.
Date (real-life): 2013-01-23
Scene Location: Esgaroth: Karath Manor
Date (in-game): January 3058
Karath Manor: Gathering Hall

The interior of House Karath's villa reflects the warrior nature of the Karath family. The furnishings are simple but rich and are designed for both Human and Dwarven statures. Various crests, arms, and armour adorn the walls with certain objects being locked in clear glass cases. A single window looks out eastward over the town. A clerk stands busy at the front desk directing various guardsman about their duties. The place has more of a military air to it then a noble house. To one side stands an oaken door, leading into guest quarters while to the other side lies the doorway into the private quarters of Lord Karath. Both the window and door are draped with cloths of deep blue and vibrant red intertwined. Every so often a glimmer of silver stitching can be seen reflected in the light.

Currently the House is dressed in a festive state. Colorful ribbons decorate the furnishings and all about are tables set with food and ale. A few guards dressed in colorful regalia stand by the door and direct guests into the room.

[Brev(#30997)] Clear, cold light streams in through Karath Manor's single window. The noon hour is past, the luncheon tables cleared and most of the House's inhabitants have dispersed themselves elsewhere, whether for business or pleasure. One solitary figure, however, lingers. Mistress Aebbe has settled herself in a straight-backed chair by the window, her knitting in her lap, but she seems restless. Half a row, a pause. Another few stitches and a pause. She glances round the Hall, biting her lip and then sets to finishing the row in a furious affray of needle against needle before tucking the work in progress under her arm and then marching resolutely toward the door that gives access to the Lord's study, one hand raised so that she may rap softly on the wood.


Though the door has been untouched, it suddenly starts to open - slowly, fortunately, and Bernar can be heard humming a marching tune to himself. It sounds like an oversized bumblebee as he half-sings the words as he hums. "For ... ... enemies .... dread ... .. ... the King!" he says, ending on a bold note.

[Brev(#30997)] The polite 'oh!' that escapes Aebbe is barely more than a murmur; the retainer steps hastily back, tugging at her skirts, her usual grace and poise faltering for a moment. "Really!" she exclaims reprovingly. "There's no need to shou- ah, that is, excuse me, Lord Bernar." The older woman drops a slightly flustered curtsey. "I had not realized you were on your way out." Ah, it's hard when a childhood playmate of one's beloved 'little boy' is suddenly transformed into one's overlord!


For his part, Bernar drops his melody in favor of speech nearly immediately. Half-in and half-out of the door, he pauses as the pieces come together: "Oh, I nearly hit you! My apologies, Mistress Aebbe. I was hoping to escape to the Training Yards, or perhaps even spend the night at Thrush Hill to visit Lord Barlin and Lord Gerik. Have you heard from Raedwald recently?" He opens the door fully and steps to the side, to allow the older women to enter the office, should she choose.

"We get news from Buhr Mahrling less often than I would like," he says. The office itself is full of large furniture: a great desk, tall bookshelves, and chairs that seem at first glance more fit for a mastiff than a person of average size. But Bernar, like Irin before him, is not a man of average size. There are two smaller, more-appropriately sized chairs in front of the desk. The overall effect is that someone large and tall seems to belong in the room; everyone else feels unnaturally small, in a reversal from the world outside.

[Brev(#30997)] Aebbe peers past Bernar and into the office. "I see you keep things much as your father did," she comments. "Though perhaps a little tidier. Ah, the King's Men must miss his valour and his ... energies." There is a delicate little pause before the last word.

She pulls herself out of her reminiscences and tilts her head up to look at Bernar. "Alas, communications with Buhr Marling are so unreliable. Why, half the time my letters go unanswered! Poor dear Raedwald must be so busy." A sad shake of the head. "As are you yourself, I see. But perhaps you will spare me a few moments?" It is as much statement as question, for she sweeps into the room in stately fashion, settling herself in one of the 'normal' sized chairs. Her knitting is removed from under her arm and set neatly in her lap.


Bernar follows Aebbe into the office, closing the door softly behind him and moving to the larger chair on the other side of the desk. As he walks, he speaks: "Of course, Mistress Aebbe. I always have time for you." And he sits. His hand starts to reach for a small bell. "Will you have something to drink? Tea, perhaps?"

[Brev(#30997)] Aebbe considers the offer. "That's most kind of you, Lord Bernar," she replies. "Ever the gentleman! Tea would be most welcome." She folds her hands in her lap, glancing down at her knitting as she does. "This hat was to be for my granddaughter, but I fear it will be too small," she remarks, stroking the red-and-blue striped material. "I will need to find some other to gift it to." Tilting her head and looking up at the giant man almost coyly (/can/ a matron be coy?) she enquires of him, "When will you or your sister provide us with some new additions to the House? One is not young forever, you know."


Lord Karath rings the bell. Soon, but not immediately, a liveried servant emerges from the side-door. He appears to recognize Aebbe, and that this is thus not a deep affair of state. He smiles and nods to her before looking to Bernar, who says "We will take tea."

Then he must finally face Aebbe's question. "I do not know, Mistress Aebbe. Politics is ever a concern with us, but I do not seek to marry Oriana - or myself - off simply to seal a pact. It made come to that," he admits, "but I do not think I have the heart to force her, and- I have not given it thought since returning to Laketown," he admits, his cheeks turning slightly rosy. He covers his mouth and coughs, turning to the side.

[Brev(#30997)] Aebbe permits herself a tiny smile at that reddening and that cough. "Oh, come now," she tells the Lord of Karath. "Surely there must be some young ladies who have caught your eye? You /have/ had visits of late from ladies of both Taurdain and Arathmor." Ah, the gossip mill has been grinding away. "Though I must say, I consider Girion more appropriate myself. It's not as though one should marry for /love/, after all."

Then, possibly to Bernar's relief or possibly not, she changes the topic. "But it was not of such things I came to speak with you. No, I am concerned for your sister. She is ... not herself, these days."


"I am afraid I must keep my own counsel on that matter for now," Bernar says, attempting to deflect Aebbe with gravitas. "But I will convey your concern to ... my sister."

Lord Karath sighs, and it is like a bellows in a smithy. The prolific sources of light in the room flicker. "I know of what you speak, but I would hear your concerns in full before addressing them." He puts both arms crossed on his desk and leans forward attentively.

It is at this moment the tea arrives. The male servant places two mugs down before pouring them three-fourths full. Steam rises as he pours, and he advises, "Be cautious and let it cool. Do you take milk?"

<span style="line-height: 1.5;">He places the teapot on a side-table and vanishes back soundlessly through the side door once he has heard any requests.</span>

[Brev(#30997)] Aebbe is still considering her words when the servant appears. "No milk, thank you," she answers. She waits placidly while the tea is brought to her and holds the mug delicately, letting it cool as instructed.

When the servant is gone she looks up at Bernar again. "Lord Bernar, I fear your sister has become quite erratic. I came to know her better on that trip eastward a couple of years past - such a lovely young woman! But then there was that business away west by the forest," she wrinkles her nose, "or perhaps some more recent matter has disturbed her, and ... well, I am not sure how to put this delicately. I suspect that .. ah, an inordinate fondness for spirits might be the cause." She shakes her head sadly.


"As you may have realized, Oriana hides it well, but she is a sensitive soul. She hates- well, she hates *killing*, no matter how justified, no matter how required." Bernar brings his tea to his lips, feels its steam tickle his nose, and lowers it without drinking.

"I spoke to her about her behavior, and ... I believe I soothed her conscience." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "We will have to see if it is enough. A fondness, overfondness perhaps, for certain spirits runs in the family," he observes wryly. "And I can hardly fault her after my own ... indiscretions."

Bernar sits back upright in his chair, eyeing Aebbe in a new light. "If she remains disturbed, perhaps she will speak to you in a way she cannot with me. Men talking to men and women talking to women are hardly the same as one talking to the other, even when they are siblings."

[Brev(#30997)] Aebbe purses her lips. "There is no need for her to do any killing," she states firmly. "I am sure the Kings Men are perfectly capable of dealing with any threats to this land." She watches Bernar lift his tea and lower it undrunk and does not emulate him.

The next words elicit a stern shake of her head. "It is not her conscience that needs soothing. I would advocate putting a strong lock on the liquor cabinet. You must understand, Lord Bernar, that it is one thing for a strong man to enjoy a little relaxation after a hard day's work and quite another for a delicate flower to imbibe so freely. I tell you that it is not only her work that is suffering, but her health, and if you do not wish her to become sickly for life then it is your duty as her brother to deal with her firmly."

The other suggestion is deferred whilst she sips cautiously at her tea. At length she says, "Oriana has always brushed away my concerns for her before. I am sure that she would be more open with a family member. But ... I can try."


"I will give her temperance another chance," Bernar says soothingly. "But I will keep a close eye. If stricter measures become necessary, I will take them."
He grins widely, revealing very small dimples. "And you must admit, if she could deal with those orcs, surely she will come to master Barlin's finest, in time." He stands from his desk. "Is there anything else? I do not mean to rush you," he adds, "But I do think it's good for the Karaths at Thrush Hill to see their Lord the Knight among them, and the afternoon is rapidly approaching evening."

[Brev] Not mean to rush? Naturally those words have the desired effect. Aebbe, who mastered social niceties long ago, manages to finish the mug of tea without actually /appearing/ to hurry. Then, still calm and unruffled, she rises, gathering up her knitting. "Nothing else. Thank you for the tea, Lord Bernar, it was most welcome," she tells Bernar with a regal smile. "I promise that I will let you know as soon as I have a letter from Raedwald. Do enjoy your little jaunt to Thrush Hill." She manages to make it sound like a youngster's outing.

Gathering up her skirt in one hand, she curtsies graciously to her host and then leaves.

Date added: 2014-11-28 10:00:04    Hits: 65
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