As Written by Script, Ottoman, and Glmster
Edward nodded every few sentences, listening carefully. He tried to imagine what the roots would be in this metaphor: was there some sort of social strife driving this distrust, or were there other people behind the curtain, pulling strings and using this ambitious chieftain as a pawn?
"My favorite color?" Ed stared off into space and scratched his chin,
"Well, I guess I like Yellow quite a bit. I'm not sure what my absolute favorite is, though."
"Why do you ask?"
--
"I have been pondering what shade of rose to next cultivate," Alarin replied with a smile. He brushed his hand over the flower of the rose he carried, and the petals fell away to reveal the bulb at its heart, from which Alarin extracted a small handful of seeds.
He stepped across to a patch of the rosebed more sparsely flowered than the others, and knelt down to disperse the seeds. "Yellow, like the daffodil and the sun. It suits you, I think. Bright and bold, yet innocent."
Alarin smiled up at the other boy. "Sometimes it seems you've scarcely changed from when we were younger, and we would play at knights and bandits, with a child's lack of care for rank and manner."
--
"There's yellow roses? I thought they were just red and white," Edward scratched his head.
"Innocent? Why do you think that?" The cousin blinked, letting go of his pollaxe but letting it stay propped up against him, "I'm more honest and trusting than others, but does that lack of politics and subterfuge make me innocent?"
Ed's response to being called innocent or childish was often met with this response.
--
"A rose may bloom with many colours," Alarin answered, as cryptic as ever, "given sufficient encouragement."
The boy rose to his feet and turned to regard Edward with a curious gaze, tilting his head slightly. "No," he finally replied to the second question. "Such things may corrupt innocence, but they do not make it by their absence." He walked over to beside the young knight, lifting a finger to poke at his chest, right over his heart. "It is your heart that does that."
Alarin smiled brightly. "It is a rare thing. You should treasure it, while it lasts."
--
Ineptitude, stupidity and nepotism.
These were the things that polluted the Westron armies, and it had been little surprise that Hildebrand had sent someone like him to fetch the errant young master Beringar. With eyes narrowed, the firstborn of the house stalked through the halls to the garden where she knew she would find her brother. That she had to ask where Alarin was left her incensed, and to find that Hildebrand had send her cousin to find the boy? There was a reason that she walked now among the flowers and the leaves that her gentle brother so adored, and a reason she cared not if the odd flower found itself underneath her sabatoned feet.
She'd little doubt that her plate announced her presence long before her voice did, the darksome steel still having yet to wear off its finish, approaching the pair from behind young Edward, well within Alarin's vision. While she held the hilt of her blade in one hand, she brought the other gauntlet to firmly rest on Edward's shoulder as harsh, jade eyes looked down to him. "Good day, cousin." Henrike murmured, keeping her tone even despite her displeasure, slowly glancing towards her brother.
"Sir Hildebrand was wondering what was keeping Edward."
--
"If you are wondering what was keeping me, cousin," Edward remained unflinching and looked back to his cousin, his sapphire eyes meeting her jade with a distinct lack of fear. He had to deal with Henrike's desperate attempts to grasp for superiority on a daily basis, and the young knight was not going to be intimidated.
"I came to find Alarin, and when I asked him to come back, he refused. If Sir Hildebrand is wondering why it's taking me as long as it is, then he should remember who he sent me to retrieve," his gaze seemed to sharpen, nearly a glare at his older cousin.
"If you are wondering why I didn't force him, I was taught -by Hildebrand no less- that it was more honorable and proper to refrain from such. Also, is it not rude to refer to the young lord as if he was a worthless distraction?"
--
"Tis a fair assessment," Alarin interjected with a wry smile. "A distraction I am indeed, and though I'd be inclined to assign myself at least a measure of worth, 'tis the right of any to think me devoid of it. Perhaps my fair sister's right most of all." There was a twinkle of mischief in his eyes as he looked up at Henrike, folding his arms behind his back and swaying gently to and fro on the balls of his feet.
"In either case, you ought assign no blame to our dear cuz, sister. I'm awfully difficult to pin down at the best of times." The slight boy flashed a knowing smile, though what meaning it held was - as ever was the case with Alarin - unclear.
--
Though attempts they were, desperate was hardly the word she'd have chosen. Her actions were measured and understood, even emotional as she was. She had earned respect in the right of her folk, with her blood, and that of others, both on and off the field of battle. Though there were many who thought less of her for reclaiming what was rightfully hers, for fulfilling her birthright, most refrained from speaking such aloud - unfortunately, Edward was not one such. Henrike remained as she was, unmoved by the young man's words, eyes lingering on her cousin until her brother spoke, drawing her gaze over to the one that Edward had been sent to fetch. "That you are, Alarin." Perhaps Edward was without blame in his half-assed attempts to bring the prince to his duties, though she only wished the same could be said for his tongue.
The Marshal of the West regarded her brother, the heir, with an even face, still largely unsure of the other young man. Edward was steel and soul, concluded and known - she couldn't begin to unravel Alarin's person. "I would advise you see to your studies, brother dearest, I won't be here to help you come this evening - I ride for the capital." A lingering, narrowed glance was paid to Edward at that, the beginnings of a sneer forming in the shadows of her face. "... though I wonder if anything will get done in my absence."
--
"Are you doubting Hildebrand's ability?" The young man returned the scowl, "I wonder if Ser, or even the Duke for that matter, would appreciate such slander?"
The knight saw Henrike as a petulant power-hungry brat, someone that he felt should never be allowed any sort of power. It went against everything he thought was right, but she was still his superior. He would stay to the proper channels if he had a complaint to voice, and refrain from taking physical action, at least action that was unprovoked...
But that was another matter, that would likely not come to fruition.
Either way, the thought of Henrike going to the capital to represent Zeelow repulsed him. Her, representing all of Zeelow? Edward was honestly surprised that such a thing didn't already tarnish the west's reputation.
--
"I am certain that at the very least, dear sister, the flowers will get more done in the absence of your ah... help," Alarin remarked, laughing. "You must give my regards to Earl Petrus, when you reach the capital. It's been far too long since his last visit."
A sly smile crossed his face, then. "If you can find a moment to spare from your hunt, of course. What quarry do you have your sights set on, I wonder? The capital is certainly rich with game."
--
"I doubt a great many things, cousin, and none of them are your concern." She replied curtly, eyes darting back to her brother as the heir spoke, the blonde giving a slow blink of her eyes as the young man jabbed at her. "Certainly, Alarin, if he'll grant me the audience after father's pestering." The duke Beringar nearly hounded lord Petrus with constant reports and requests, hoping to make it look like he, and the house, were attentive to their role as the power of the west.
The titanic figure narrowed her eyes on the young heir at such bold words, doing her best to stifle what rage she felt at his playful insinuations. "No one who's keen on late arrivals, I fear. I must away, lest we not make the best of what's left of today. See that my brother gets to Hildebrand, Ed." With that she moved to turn, hand tensing on the grip of her blade as she departed from this pitiful company, looking forward to the small reprieve she'd have from such on the road.