PM to join [Mithryn] Letters from Home(Xira)

[Marrick Corvis]

Afternoon Winter 15th, 513AV The wind blew in from the east, setting the Windoak Banners over the battlements to a steady if random furling. Marrick stood on the tall stone wall, a humming melody in his throat as he looked out down the road to Syliras, the same one he had whistled with Oriah as they wandered to the Windmount, and the same one he had heard the night they had danced. His minds topics of thought, swayed as if caught in the same breeze. The weight of a sword, attack and defense drills, Stances, hunting, food, and of course, Oriah. All coalesced in his mind like a rich tapestry that hung in the Grand Halls of the Dyres District. It was very busy to his mind’s eye, yet he hungered to understand it all. He stood the watch, longbow in hand, and sword in its scabbard. His keen eyes set and at the ready to spot the danger if it came. The wind blew in the scent of the sea and the Kelvic took a long breath through his nose. His lungs filled with the smell of the salt water from the distant inland sea as he remembered his ride from Syliras only days before. Silent as a shadow his Patron, Knight David Whitevine, joined him at the lookout post and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If the enemy ever came, they would not be intimidated by your humming little brother. Find a better time for it. Perhaps when you’re at the stove, or mucking the stalls. I know Kiter enjoys it immensely.” His Patron advised sagely through a brotherly smile. With a friendly reinforcing pat, he turned his gaze upon the road. Marrick nodded to him over his shoulder, “Aye Ser.” He said stiffly, returning his gaze back to the road. They had received a hawk earlier that day letting them know that there might be visitors. A delivery of parcels and letters for the men, and women stationed there at Mithryn. Marrick wondered if he would get a letter from Oriah. Though, he knew he had not sent anything to her, why would she write to him? “Ser?” Marrick said with an inquisitive lilt to his tone, yet keeping his eyes focused on his task. “Aye little brother? What’s on your mind?” David said, his manner similar to his squires. His Patron stayed focused on his task, yet was always willing to patiently answer the many questions the Kelvic had for him. “Oi was wonderin.” Marrick began, and suddenly hesitated. He wanted to ask David what he should do about Oriah. The little Kelvic suspected she had feelings for him. But he was nervous about what it would mean. If he Bonded with another Human, would it be like before. Would he spend months feeling as if he’d amputated a piece of himself. And if they were to Bond successfully he would likely die before she had a gray hair on her head. It didn’t sit right with him to do that to her. If they Bonded and had children they would be Kelvics like him. What a cruel fate that would be. “Spit it out Marrick. One day you will be a knight. When your elders ask you a question they would expect a direct and swift response. Besides there is no need for hesitance of your heart is in the right place on the subject to discuss.” David said, trying to impart a little bit of logic into his squires head. With a heaving sigh, Marrick let go of some of the stress of the situation. “Oi think Oi moight have feelins fer someone in the city Ser.” He said, feeling almost as if he had blurted it out. Though in truth, he had held his composure to a professional degree. “Oriah Azari Eh?” David said with a grin. “you think you have feelings for her?” The Knight stood there his grin fading to a smile, as he considered the Kelvics words. “Well, what does your heart tell you? How do you feel about her? Don’t over think it little brother.” The Kelvic considered his words thoroughly, a burden in his heart. “Oi have feelins fer a woman in Syliras David.” He corrected himself with an embarrassed smile. “Oi’m asking your advoice. What do Oi do?” Marrick asked, his voice laced with worry. He had never met anyone he had feelings for other than Gypsy, and the feelings he’d had for her were that of a son for a Mother. Oriah felt different, she felt good. She always made him feel safe, strong, powerful, yet off balance, weak, and humbled. After a low chuckle the Knight leaned against the wall, on the knuckles of his gloved hands and spoke. “Well, you have feelings for the girl, write her some poetry, or send her a love letter. Let her know how you feel. She may very well have the same feelings for you but be unable, or frightened to tell you outright, just as you are with her.” Marrick nodded at the sage advice, and sighed softly. “Oi’ve never written poetry a’fore Ser. But that sounds about roight.” As the Kelvic finished his keen eyes saw movement against the horizon. He watched for a moment with his eyes fixed on that point. “Ser!” he said firmly. “Do ye see it?” David followed his squires eyes, and nodded. His eyes fixed on the rider approaching the gates of Mithryn. “Lone Rider. Likely our parcel delivery.” The Knights posture straightened as he looked on. “Sound the bell.” Marrick heard the order and gripped the simple metal chain attached to the small bell in the tower above. With a few well timed shakes the bell chimed out the announcement of a visitor. As he let go he focused his attentions back to the rider as he approached. “nock an arrow just to be safe Squire.” David said softly. “Sir, Oi couldn’ hit the broad side of a shed weth this length o’ wood in meh hand.” Marrick said, the slightest bit of confusion in his voice, as he obediently nocked an arrow. “The gate has bin closed sence the evenin bell Ser Whoitevoine.” “Orders little brother.” He said with a smile. “Follow Orders. The Rider doesn’t know you have no idea how to shoot a bow. At least none yet.” The pair stood there watching as the rider approached. Ready for anything. “We did the same when you arrived so late in the evening earlier this month. Unless they are flying Windoak Banners, be cautious.” The Kelvic stood ready for anything. What was it about David Whitevine that made him so confident? For the briefest of moments he stole a glance at his patron. Marrick hoped he could be even a fraction of what his Patron was one day. He knew he would do well to pay attention.

[Xira Hezmek]

Winter had settled into Syliras and the easterly wind cut deep to the bones. The elderly would be complaining about their bones and joints tonight. Such weather made it hard to grow crops, even the grasses lay dormant under a pervasive frost. Xira was dressed in all the clothes he owned and still shivered from the chilling wind. Only his face was exposed and that was now numb; his nose felt like it was going to form an icicle.

Terrible, miserable fate. He nestled himself against the bulk of the "borrowed" horse. Leather creaked and he was jostled along as he rode on the trundling beast to his destination. Truthfully, he jumped at the chance, the job, to work for the knighthood. He had no intention of tying himself down to the city, but he believed in all that it stood for. Peace, civilization, honor. He would do his part by helping them in anyway he could barring join the knighthood. Then came the problems.

He tried not to dwell on the cold, nor his inexperience riding upon a horse, nor the ever present danger of being bereft of the walls. Instead he focused on the positives, for one, he got to ride the horse he was delivering to Mithryn. He was going to be paid for his troubles and he would be able to earn some reputation.

He had never been to Mithryn before. Those who came to visit Syliras from there claimed it to be a nice enough place; not nearly as busy and crowded as the city proper. Sure he had gone into the bronze forest with Temur on occasion and seen a couple sights this young in his life, but the chance to go somewhere new, even if it was only a toss across the field, was enough to get the young man shivering with excitement. Yes, it was excitement and not the blasted wind that had him quivering against his friend the horse.

Travelling by horseback was not much better than travelling by foot. Much of the time was spent in one's own head or on the scenery. It was incredibly dull to watch the same withered stalks of grass bowed in the wind in the nearest fields. The visual only made his mind whirl up into musings and random thoughts. For instance he could not help but wonder why they let grass and weeds choke the fields in the winter. He supposed that, If he was not mistaken, winter was the fallow period. A break from farming and a time to grow winter grasscrops for livestock. His mind flitted to his borrowed mount. Which prompted him to reach down and strok the tiaden warhorse's neck. He was strangely a passive beast, very easy going and more concerned about getting a treat then giving Xira a hard time. The stallion tossed his head appreciatively and kept his steady pace down the low-walled road.

In the distance a walled battlement rose up from the flat plain. It had been visible for awhile, but now he could see it in better detail. It was much like the city of Syliras, if the city was scaled down to a fraction of its size. Battlements lined the wall and men or perhaps women walked between the protective stone and its gaps. Far above the ubiquitous Windoak symbol flew from a rippling flag. At last, his journey would be at an end. Without a single mishap at that!

Time and time again his mind went to his saddlebags. With the horse he was to deliver to a Sir Whitevine, he had a score of letters and a handful of parcels to deliver, paid upfront. One of the parcels was even from a friend of his, Oriah. Through a series of misadventures he had received quite the beating for the enchanting woman. So when he was approached to deliver a parcel to a person by the name of Marrick, he was all to happy to assist. Despite what might otherwise had been an unfortunate day for him, he had grown to really like Oriah. He had such few friends these days; he was focused on work far too much that maintaining friendships was a hassle. Perhaps he could slow down to enjoy that dinner Oriah had offered to him sometime.

The people, who from the distance looked like ants, atop the wall drew their bows as he came closer and for a moment Xira was worried that he would be attacked. His gloved hands tightened on the reins before he forced himself to relax. He raised a hand to those who might do him harm, gave the sign for peace and then waved. The nameless horse, picking up on his stress, picked up his speed into a light canter which jostled the novice rider almost out of the saddle. He would have cursed the horse but he was far too concerned about not falling off that by the time that he settled himself into the three beat momentum they had already arrived.

"Hail, M'lords" He shouted to the gates and their keepers, "I come bearing gifts and words." Xira smiled up at the wall to either side, quelling the paranoid feeling of not knowing if they would take him for genuine. If he did not get admitted, what then? Would he be made into a pincushin? Or would he be turned back to the castle.

Words from me to you

Words from you to me

[Marrick Corvis]

As the rider approached Marrick readied himself, while his patron assessed the danger. Then, with a simple wave of the Knights hand he gave the Kelvic the all clear. The squire breathed a sigh of relief as he loosened the draw string of his long bow and stood straight, ready for orders. As the rider announced himself as a messenger, David Whitevine nodded sagely. “Marrick, go down and help open the gate. Greet our guest, and help him with whatever he may need to accomplish. Keep an eye on him and report back to me tonight at supper.” He said with an amused smile. “A test ser?” He asked considering the constant angles of his Patrons methods of teaching him what he needed to know. “A mission little brother. There isn’t much at stake here though. He’s just a messenger. Learn as much as you can about him. And report to me at supper. Dismissed.” “Ser!” Marrick shouted just before bounding down the stairway of the battlement to help with the gate. As he helped the other squires and knights at the gate, the Kelvic could hear him speaking to the rider. “Welcome to Mithryn Herald. We’ll have the gate opened presently. Hold tight.” With his brief words of welcome the Knight gave Marrick and the others at the gate the sign to open the door. As the four men lifted the rope holding the massive wooden gate bar, it slid with a soft grinding of wood against wood. Once the wood was secured the Kelvic shoved with all his might on the gate, forcing it to move on its massive iron hinges slowly creating an opening for the rider. Marrick was excited. This was their first dispatcher since he had gotten here, and the Kelvic was practically suspicious of his Patron for giving him the duty of accompanying him as the Knight knew how eager he was for news of the city, and Oriah. As the rider rode slowly through the gate, Marrick was waiting for him. His hands at his sides, ready for whatever might be asked of him. “Evenin Ser, welcome to Mithryn. OI’m Squire Marrick Corvis, at yer service Ser.” He said with a shallow bow.

[Xira Hezmek]

It was a mechanical wonder to see doors many times his own height pull apart and swing open. Not to mention the strength and time it would have taken to make such things. Regardless, here was his admittance to the Mithryn Hold. The creaking and groaning of wood against wood and wood against stone came to a rumbling silence as the young rider guided his friend the horse into the gates.

Shadows pooled in the depths of the gate. Syna's light drew into long, orange and decaying rays that gave the scene into a bloodied cast. Clouds above and stones below were given this hue and it made those shadows all the more frightening. Shapes moved between opening of the heavy door and pulled back allowing him entrance. The cold made him shiver again. Yes, the cold, definitely not the forbidden feeling he was getting. Soon he would be bereft of even his newly made friend and put in this strange place. The excitement that held him before drained from him to be replaced with fear. Fear of the unknown, of new places and of new experiences.

Xira realized he should get off the horse at this point but embarrassingly he had forgotten how. His drykas mentor, Temur's words were hazy in his mind, mixed with the words of how to mount a horse. He shifted in his saddle a bit, the Tiaden shifting with him, turning to one side. This distracted the young man when the squire introduced him. "Oh, Hello there. Yes, would you mind holding the reins for me? I would like to get off but I..Um, haven't ridden a horse in a long time." He flushed, olive skin reddening with embarrassment. By this point the reins had dangled free as the horse paced to one side the young squire.

At last he composed himself, still a stride the warhorse and gave the squire a look up and down. Interesting. The man before him was not all that dissimilar to him. Black hair, blue eyes, if not for the paler northerner skin they could have been kin. Such thoughts reminded of an encounter earlier that season. Ah, but those eyes were paler than his, like chips of ice almost. He waited for some assistance and tilted his head at the young man, watching and examining. So this one was Marrick, Oriah's friend.

Words from me to you

Words from you to me

[Marrick Corvis]

For a moment the squire assessed the man as he came through the gates. He seemed a bit bumbled. However, the squire knew all too well the ride to Mithryn was a fair distance from Syliras, and for one making the trip for the first time it could be an exhausting task. A hard ride could even turn seasoned veterans from stalwart knights into babbling children at times. “Naught but a’ pleasure ser.” Marrick said with a nod of his head. The Tieden the man rode was a massive beast, just as Kiter was, and the Kelvic knew that respect was a necessity. Carefully he held out his hand palm up so the great beast could smell his hand and know that he was a safe person. As the horse breathed at his arm in deep gusts of air, casting steamy exhales about as the Kelvic spoke softly to him. “Roight yeh biggun, no trouble now. We got a’ noice warm n’ cozy stall fer yah in the stables.” The horse seemed indifferent to him, though his ears wobbled around as he took in the sounds of the Outpost. As the Squire took the reins the horse offered no resistance. “Roight then. Oi have him ser.” He said now to the horses rider, taking a moment to assess him as he dismounted. He had skin kissed by Syna, much like Oriah, though his hair was dark as were his blue eyes. His skin reminded him of a certain Benshira he knew in the City and the squire made a mental note to ask him later if he had a parent from Eyktol. However, for the time being he focussed on gaining the man’s trust. “Follow me ser and we’ll get yer harse situated.” The Kelvic said as he gave the monstrous horse a reassuring stroke of the neck. As the odd trio headed off toward the stables Marrick tried to make small talk. “Oi felt the wend pickin up o’ar the fields. Oi could still smell a bet o’ salt from Suvan. Oi’ll bet it was a moight cold out there.” The squire said, his voice wrapped in empathy. “If’n yeh need a warm place teh rest this evenin we have a few spare beds in the barracks.” For a moment the Kelvic gave the man another appraising glance. “We aut teh force a bit of hot supper inta yer hands as well. Nothin better than a poipen hot bowl o’ stew tah make the cold feel moiles away.” He said with a smile. A few pages were about their duties for feeding, when they found the rider’s horse a stall for the night. Feeling more confident each day, the squire found the horse a halter, and went to work dressing the mighty horse down for the night. “Apologies Ser, Oi never got yer name?”

[Xira Hezmek]

Now free of the horse's broad back the courier stretched a bit, his sides aching. He had forgotten how much it wears on a person to ride a horse. His mentor never seemed to mind though, but of course he always rode bareback or with those fancy and special tack. Xira couldn't help but notice the squire's thick accent. It wasn't difficult to understand, but marked him as an immigrant.

"Oh the horse isn't mine. It goes to a Lord Whitevine? I never got the first name. That reminds me!" He pulled the saddlebags off the horse before they moved off to the stables and the man continued speaking. With the bags draped over his shoulder, "Indeed, it was quite chilly out there on the plains and I would appreciate the hospitality. I had not thought to arrange sleeping accommodations. Seems I underestimated the distance to here and for some reason thought that I would be back home in time for supper."

When his guide said the word stew Xira's stomach decided then to growl in anticipation. "Erf. Yeah, stew would be nice." He pushed thoughts of warm broth, vegetables and chunks of meat seasoned with delicious herbs from his mind. Dwelling on it would only make him hungrier. Instead he helped out this man take down the gear from his friend the horse. The great beast leaned into the rubs and pats then patiently waited for the saddle to be unhooked from his midsection. Free of the confining gear he shook himself out and huffed a relaxed sigh, nuzzling into Xira's pockets in search of something to eat. "They keep this place well stocked" The courier noted, rubbing the horses nose before the horse walked over to the trough to eat his fill of hay.

"Ah, forgive me Squire Corvis." He bowed to the man, "My name is Xira Hezmek. As I am sure you already have gathered I am here as a messenger from Syliras. Speaking of. I have a parcel for you." He straightened up and smiled wide for the man. He stepped out of the stall to give the horse some peace as he fished into the saddlebags for the parcel. Once obtained he held it out for his new client.

Mail time!

In the package, when it is open, are the following contents:

• small pouch of cocoa (8 oz)
• small pouch of sugar (8 oz)
• 20 honey candy drops
• 1 llama wool scarf dyed dark green
• Rugberry Tea (4 dose pouch)

And a note that reads:

Hope this letter finds you happy and well. It has been dull since you left and I have taken to spending my time in the great bezar. I found some gifts for you I thought you might like. My friend is a messinger and he agreed to deliver my gifts to you. Have you ever had hot coco? It is wunderful. You must try it with cow's milk. Are there cows there in mee-thrin?

We must visit each other soon. Peace be with you.
Ori

p.s. I am not very good at writing common

Words from me to you

Words from you to me

[Marrick Corvis]

Marrick nodded thoughtfully as the rider told him that the horse was for one of the Whitevines. The squire took note that a horse for the master of Mithryn or one of his sons would need special attention and he set about the task of removing the horses tack. Carefully he removed the bridle and slid on the horses halter, giving the great beast a reassuring stroke of the neck. “Easy there biggun.” He said fondly to the beast. “Ye will be takin a foine man inta battle.” The Kelvic whispered to the horse as he removed the saddle and laid it on a nearby rack. As the great beast amusingly nipped at the Couriers pockets for treats, the Kelvic waved down a page to take care of the horse. The young lady had no need for explanations, and took to her tasks immediately. The squire watched the young girl as she fearlessly set about the task of brushing down the big horse. She was scarcely tall enough to reach its back. “If only we were all that brave.” He whispered to himself. The smirk still resting upon his lips, Marrick nodded to Xira when he introduced himself and was unable to hide the amazement on his face when the courier produced the wrapped surprise . “Quoite a pleasure teh meet yeh Roider Hezmek.” He said as he reached for the parcel with inquisitive eyes. As he took the parchment wrapped package lightly in his hands he felt the weight of it in his grasp and wondered, almost painfully, what its contents might be. “A package? Fer me? Oi wonder who it’s from.” He said, though there were only a few people he would have guessed to send him a package. Lovingly he smoothed the little wrinkles on its surface, and unabashedly lifted the parcel to his nose and inhaled as if the wrapping might be filled with air. So many different smells met his nose all at once pouring high proof alcohol on the fire of his imagination. As he exhaled he pulled the string and loosened the parchment, to peer inside. As the paper parted, a note slipped from the folds and fell to the floor of the stables prompting the Kelvic to bend knee to get it. His charge forgotten his curiosity got the better of him and he flipped open the folded bit of paper. The words were a bit broken, but legible with a foreign hands touch. The handwriting held the florid notes of a woman, and he suspected before he even read the signature, who it was from. “Oriah,” He said as he smiled at the letter. “Bless yer love.” With a sad smile and a slip of the hand he slid the paper back into the parcel and dug out a honey drop. “Oy, bonny lass!” He said as the young page turned her head to look at him. When he had her full attention he tossed her the sweet and nodded to her when she caught it. “Thank ye fer all yer help. Take good care of Ser Whoitevines harse fer me choild. Oi need teh see teh our fren here.” He said with a gracious smile. “Aye squire!” she said back to him with a shallow bow of her head. As Marrick turned to his charge he nodded to him. “Xira Hezmek, a blessin upon yer name.” The Kelvic said with a sigh, at last returning the couriers smile. “Ye’ve brought me somthin more precious than Mizas.” The Kelvic’s smile touched his eyes as he tucked the parcel under his arm after carefully tying it shut again. “Lets get yer gear stowed and then we’ll get us some vittles. eh?” The Kelvic said to his guest, ready to lead Xira to the barracks.

[Xira Hezmek]

First impressions are an important thing to handle. It could mean the difference between gaining a friend, a repeating customer, or an enemy. As such, Xira always took pains to speak formally and to bow to both the sender and recipient when introducing himself. In most situations this was good. It was either expected or a welcome surprise. However when it is with the rough and tumble crowd it isn't the best idea. It was this last group that Marrick's amused smile told Xira where he was from. The man before him was an intriguing fellow, a squire who had a story. Well, they all had stories. Some where just more interesting than others.

It was always a joy to watch his customers receive and open packages and letters. When Marrick did, especially when the package was from a friend he knew, it was doubly so. The little nuanced expressions of surprise only to be replaced by intense curiosity. It was like watching a child, though this was no child. Xira smiled, watching the man as he leaned against the stall door. He hadn't read the letter included but he could guess that charming woman had charmed this man.

Ah but the man was kind. He tossed a bit of candy to the page when he clearly did not need to. Xira pushed off from the stall door and stood with the squire, listening to his words. "Of course Squire Corvis. Anything for a friend." he said. He meant that for Oriah, but he said it in such a way to indicate that he thought of this stranger as his friend too. "Vittles?" He asked, puzzling over the word.

Together the two of them walked off, Xira led by the squire. "Um. I hope I might impose something on you Marrick." He paused, somewhat indecisive on how to go about asking for help, " I have a good deal more packages and letters that need to find their owners and I was hoping." He smiled apologetically, "Or at least tell me where I can go to find someone who knows these people. But we can do that tomorrow. I am more interested in getting some of that stew."

He hefted his saddlebags and yawned. The ride had taken a lot out of him. His inner thighs burned, a familiar ache he hadn't felt in years. "Is it okay with your superiors that I sleep in the barracks?"

Words from me to you

Words from you to me

[Marrick Corvis]

‘Xira Hezmek, would do anythin fer a friend?’ He thought to himself quizzically. His eyes narrowed slightly at the statement as he weighed the man’s words. Did he mean Oriah, or himself? His mind ground at the idea like stones in a gizzard. Yet as the rider mentioned the squires colloquial term for food his features relaxed and a friendly smile returned to his face. “Aye Ser! Vittles, sup, fare, tack, gnosh, or as some folk about these walls say, grub.” He said with a bright and cheery tone as he motioned to follow him as they walked. He listened as the rider told him of his own duties. It was a task that the Kelvic knew too well from the days when he was a slave in Ravok. Bring news, parcels, and anything required to wherever some paying folk wanted them taken. A subtle sigh escaped his nostrils casting a puff of steam into the cool evening air. Yet it was almost a comfort to meet someone who did the deed by choice. Even he had to admit the occasional enjoyment of his duties in Ravok for the dispatcher. People did love their parcels. When the question of whether it was alright for him to sleep in the barracks came up his smile cracked open to a broad grin. “Well, meh lad. Its eoither a bunk er bale. The barracks is warm, simple, n’ comfortable, or yeh have poiles o’ straw n’ hay about in every barn r’ loft. The farmers n’ such moight manage the put yeh up fer the noight in a feathered mattress, but there’d be talk o’ keepin away o’ thar daughters n’ such.” His smile faded slightly. “Oi remember when Oi first arroived here at Mithryn. There was nothing better than that bleedin bunk they stuffed me inta meh first noight.” His smile broadened again, almost as if the memory were there comforting his aches and pains from the days since. “Yeh, can have moine. Oi can make other arrangements.” He said imagining the nest he’d been secretly building himself in the rafters of the attic. “An ye needent worry Xira, We’ll get yer parcels handed out at the supper bell. A few o’ other Knioghts and Squoires will be on duty, but most will be there. Anyone we miss we can give their parcels teh at the fastin bell.” The squire said confidently. “Most o’ the lads live here with their families. When yeh live here long enough it seems yeh marry amongst the folk. Lot o’ simple sarts, but closer teh ground than swoine. Oi believe the ward is-” He searched the air above his head a moment. “Humble.” The confident look on the squires face spoke of uncommon certainty. “Not that’it’s a simple Squoire’s place teh think such things.” He said with a smirk. “N’ here we are!” The squire said as they approached a long stone, wood, and stucco multi-storied building. The door swung wide, to reveal an interior hard for space, as the squire lifted the latch and pushed it open for his guest. “After you Ser. Step insoide where it’s a nip warmer.” Not a single person wearing a uniform was above the age of fourteen. Many rested on their bunks, some chatted, while others milled about or played games. Liars dice, or Syliran Spades, seemed predominant. While in the corner, an older boy and girl played at Two Deck Campaigners while a few of the younger kids watched. Not a single window was present. As they walked slowly amongst the young, a pair of bright eyed looking boys ran up to them. “Marrick!” one of them shouted gleefully. “Are we going to get a story tonight?” he said with a look of anticipation. “We loved the one last night about the War Mare! She sounded so amazing!” Marrick looked down at the young fellow and tussled his hair. “Oi have a few duties tonoight lads. But if yer really good Oi’ll tell yeh the one about The Raven and the Oasis.” The squire said with a little smile. “Yuck romance! Ick! Tells us the one about the Hanging Trader!” The other little boy spoke up. His grin almost broader than his compatriot. “Yeh bloodthirsty lot!” He spouted, yet the grin never left his face. “Off with yeh now! Suppers soon an yeh’ll want teh wash up.” Marrick said giving the shorter of the two a little nudge. After a brief bout of whining the pair trundled off. Telling a group of boys how it was romance night again. His gaze wandered a moment, occasionally looking over his shoulder to ensure that Xira still followed him. “Pages n’ apprentices are on the first floor. Squoires have the second, and the Knoights that don’t have houses here in Mithryn live on the third floor.” He said with a nod as he pushed open the door to the stairs. When they walked into the squires barracks the bunks were a little nicer. Ash slat beds with a bit more than a thick bit of wool stuffing for a mattress, lined the walls. Only a couple were occupied. A cheery little fire was lit in the fireplace, as it crackled. Though, no windows were present just as the first floor had been barren of them. Marrick’s bunk was similar to the other squires, yet simpler. “Oi haven’t been here long enough yet teh really make thes moine, but please make yerself at home.” The squire said with a grin. And as if it weren’t enough he offered. “If yer worried about yer personal belongins yeh can lock em in moi chest. Oi have a bit o’ space.” The pleasant creaking sound of the old wood chair that the Kelvic sat in while he waited for his charge to get ready was followed with a sigh. “Oi’ve bout chewed yer ear off Ser. Fergive moy rudeness.” He said as he unlocked and lifted the lid of his footlocker and placed his package within, slyly removing a honey drop and the letter for later study. “Tell me a bit about yerself. Where are ye from? What made ye become a dispatcher?” he said casually as he slipped a honey drop into his mouth.

[Xira Hezmek]

First thing that Xira learned about Marric was that the man was a talker. The courier had nothing against that, and in fact enjoyed listening to the man. His words oozed a variety of emotions and motives that Xira was unable to analyze completely. A moment he would say something and the moment was gone, only to be replaced with a new emotion that affected the words he said. To add to that, the man's face was animate and elastic. He was not a stoic, unfeeling stone of a man in any way. He watched his guide's face and mirrored his expressions. The man's eagerness was infectious.

"Haha. I imagine so. I am a stranger to the fine farmers in these parts." His smile faltered. "Surely I can't take your bed. It doesn't seem right to kick you out of your own bed for my sake." If the man insisted he would of course fold to it. Instead Marrick moved onto a different line of thought. The letters and parcels. They were on his mind quite a bit before he made it to Mithryn but the Squire had some how distracted him from his task. Unusual. Xira typically was fairly dedicated to his work. "You are right Marrick. A sound plan. I had imagined I would have to go door to door to find all my clients." Yes, the man was a clever talker.

Stepping into the barracks from the cold winter air was like stepping into a furnace. It felt very good, but the first couple steps were overwhelming. Feeling returned to his face slowly and accompanied by a prickling sensation. He took his broad-brimmed hat off as they entered, took his gloves off and opened up his coat a bit. So distracted was he that when he finally took note of his surrounding he was struck by the amount younglings about. Beds in neat and uniform rows took the majority of the space, a fire place took the far end of the building's wall and the rest of the space was filled with youths not old enough to shave.

The moment that Marrick entered they, meaning he, was accosted by the youths. It didn't take the courier long to figure that Marrick, being a kind soul to the younger ones, spent time entertaining these children with stories. Xira was loathe to admit that he himself could go for a good story and as the children demanded something more "exciting" the courier could not help but feel that any story would have suited Xira just fine.

Not long later did the squire explain what was going on. The youths were Pages and apprentices and that was where they bunked. He frowned, a thought occurring, "If the knights are on the top floor how would they be able to respond quickly to an emergency?" In his mind he imagined the forces of the Yukman attacking in the middle of the night and the knights rushing down the flights of stairs, bumping into things and tripping into beds with sleeping pages in them. It was more of a comment though.

At the mention of his belongings he nodded, hefting the saddlebags down. "Much obliged Marrick. I can't thank you enough for your hospitality." He gave the man a mirthful look, "It was no offense to me, my friend. You sound like one with a story about you that has been without a ear to tell it." As he packed the bags with the letters and unfastened his sword and its sheath from his hip. "Me? I've been here in Syliras all my life." He closed the chest, propping his sword against the chest. Even though he was more likely to cut himself if he were in a fight it was always better to have one's weapon handy. "Dispatcher? Oh, you mean courier or messenger." He pretended to think about it and made a bit of a show of it, even though he knew the answer right away, " I suppose I became what I am because of a dear friend of mine." In truth it was much more complicated then that but he wasn't out to bore his new friend.

He changed the subject, "What about you Marrick, what made you decide to join the knighthood?" Xira took a seat on the bed as he asked, looking at the man with curious intent. He would have to bring up Oriah at some point, but now did not feel like the right time. "Also... When is supper? My stomach is barking at me and the beast refuses to be placated." At that moment his stomach gave truth to his statement, grumbling quite loudly.

Words from me to you

Words from you to me