Fantasy BG: Lost History

[Wert]

This is a thread for character interactions and collabs that happen during time skips. Anyone within the roleplay can post their interactions here.​

 

[kibou]

The night of the banquet.

Solomon sat patiently as the smaller woman nibbled at the offered bread and sipped the water, and when she finally responded, her words slurring together, he was unsure what to make of it. Was this the first time she'd been drunk?

“Oh!” He couldn’t help but laugh at the unexpectedness of Oleander’s question and how seriously she looked at him as she asked it, the corner of his mouth pulling up in an amused smile despite himself.

“No,” he answered with a shake of his head, “if you’d been poisoned, you would know it. You said you had a few cups? Depending on the wine, feeling ill after that isn’t unusual at all.”

Oleanders’ face heated again as the man laughed at her question. Outrage faded to embarrassment and relief as he explained. He didn’t seem worried, and although he was just a stranger, he had helped her during an embarrassing situation, and therefore trusted his judgement. Of course it was just the wine--though she was unsure why she was having such an intense reaction to it. She was feeling more clear-headed after her small meal, but the nausea was definitely still present.

Solomon hadn’t sampled the wine himself, but if a poison was quick enough for her to have started feeling the affects while they were still at the banquet, with the time it took to walk to the infirmary, no doubt she would have started experiencing other symptoms. With somewhat of a conscious effort, his face relaxed to a neutral expression. Hopefully, he hadn’t just upset his guest.

“Just get some rest, and you should feel better in the morning.”

Oleander nodded slowly, shifting herself to remove her traditional Setlaindish sandals before unfolding a scratchy woolen blanket from the foot of the bed. Focusing her attention back on the man as she wrapped the blanket around herself, she spoke again.

“I’m feeling a lot--well, a bit--better, I can’t thank you enough, ah….,” Oleander trailed off with a sheepish smile, ashamed that she hadn’t asked his for his name.

“Solomon. Must have slipped my mind, sorry.”

Oleander nodded seriously, giving her own name again, though she could vaguely recall already having hastily introduced herself to the man--Solomon--when they were still in the banquet hall.

A pair of fussing voices sounded from behind the doors to the infirmary, becoming louder as two people neared. Madeline, in her rush to find the infirmary, had left her shoes behind somewhere in the castle. She'd made the mistake of not asking for directions before leaving the banquet and didn't run in to a helpful servant until she'd nearly reached the other side of Hoellan. Rowana had caught up to her, and was now trying to fix Madeline's crooked band on her head and asking about her bare feet as they moved. Madeline opened one of the doors and continued on inside, Rowana silencing herself as the young queen spoke.

"Where is she? What happened?" She asked between breaths, her tone filled with more worry than command. Her determined expression eased when she finally caught the image of Oleander, not noticing any apparent injuries.

The opening of the infirmary’s doors had drawn Solomon’s attention, and he turned his head to see who had entered. From the champagne and rose colored setlaindish dresses, it was clear the other members of Oleander’s party had arrived, and in a bit of disarray as well. As one of the newcomers spoke, he eyed the golden leaf crown the other was re-adjusting for her, and stood to welcome her with a small bow.

“Your majesty. She’s alright, just had a bit much to drink.” He wondered briefly how to explain in a polite manner that Oleander had vomited the contents of her stomach onto the plate of the royal advisor for the king and queen that they had come to arrange treaties with.

Oleanders eyes widened as she heard the familiar voices of Maddie and Rowana--torn between relief at seeing them and dread. Although the queen was quite protective of her ladies-in-waiting, Rowana was more fierce, and could be well..scary. As they entered the room, Oleander did her best to make herself look small and pathetic. Maybe they’d take pity on her poor state and save the scoldings for another time. She sat quietly on the bed as Solomon spoke to the two women, eyes fighting to remain downcast but flickering upwards towards her queen and fellow lady.

A sigh of relief left Madeline and she smiled slightly. “Thank you,” she voiced, though her sights were still set on Oleander. “What were you thinking?” She walked closer and sat at the end of the bed, observing her Lady closely,”-Oh, never mind, we can discuss it when you’re feeling better.”

“Never mind?” Rowana said with anger in her voice, “She’s embarrassed us! She could have marred your image!”

Oleander had relaxed when Maddie sat down, but she winced at Rowana’s words and tone. Ollie felt her eyes begin to well up with tears, despite the fact that she knew Rowana’s anger was justified.

Madeline was quiet for a second, looking up at Rowana. She knew most of this aggression was probably from concern for both herself and Ollie, but at the present time Rowana’s outburst was not much different from Oleander’s behaviour tonight. They weren’t at their kingdom, their home. Undermining her decision to let it go in the presence of an outsider could also impact her image.

“Rowana, please leave,” Madeline had more authority in her voice, as if to let her know it wasn’t a suggestion. Rowana turned on her heels and stomped out.

“I apologize for the trouble my Ladies have caused you,” the young queen said, now looking at the healer. She stood, but didn’t leave Ollie’s side, “If I may ask, did she in fact do anything that could harm herself or our image?”

Solomon stood quietly as the two argued, and had just been about to find a reason to excuse himself to let them have some privacy but with the queen’s lady having made her noisy exit, it was no longer necessary. And now, there was no way to avoid the uncomfortable topic- Oleander and Queen Madeline would know in a few days anyways.

“I’m afraid she did…” he paused for a second, still searching for the best words, but there really was no good way to phrase what had happened, “throw up onto the royal advisor’s plate, your majesty.” His gaze drifted towards Oleander, feeling sorry for the poor girl.

Oleander paled and she quickly turned to face Solomon. She looked back to try to gauge Madeline’s reaction before covering her face with her hands and collapsing backwards on the bed with a humiliated groan. She’d been completely unaware of the high status of the victim of her...outburst.

“Ah,” Madeline’s brows rose, her hand coming to rest on her stomach as she glanced at Oleander, “I see, thank you. Will she have to stay here for the night?” The young queen mentally made note to apologize to the royal adviser personally when she got the chance.

“It might be best, in case she begins to feel sick again.”

“Thank you, again” Madeline said before taking a seat next to the bed and resting there. She took one of Oleander’s hands into hers and smiled slightly. What worry she had was dwindling now, knowing her Lady would be fine once sobered. “I’m going to stay here with you, then,” She said, having already made up her mind.

Ollie squeezed Maddie’s hand with a wan smile, grateful for the contact. She’d been feeling unsteady on the bed, the extra support was welcome, and she was relieved that her queen didn’t seem to be too angry with her- unless she was holding back for the sake of their current audience. Her mood quickly shifted back towards despair and shame, and Oleander pulled her hand away to hide her face in her hands.

“I’m so sorry, Maddie,” she said, voice muffled.

“Right, I have something I can make that’ll help you feel better in the morning. It’ll just be a moment.” Wanting to give them some time together, Solomon gave a slight bow and excused himself quietly, heading towards the connecting door on the end of the room.

The young queen gave a sympathetic smile as she watched Ollie retreat, “It’s quite alright, I’m sure Freland is no stranger to drunkenness. I will just have to apologize to the royal adviser, but I would like for you to accompany me then.” She shifted in her seat, hands fixing the rough blanket around Ollie, “Do you remember when I decided to try some of my mother’s wine? She left it on the table, and I ended up calling the duchess a pig because of her poofy, pink dress.” There was humor in her tone, as she hoped reminding Ollie of her own mix up would help ease some of her guilt.

Ollie nodded jerkily. Of course she’d have to go apologize to the adviser, though it was sure to be awkward. As Madeline recounted her own drunken mishaps, Oleander giggled quietly and wiped unshed tears away with the blanket.

Madeline was relieved to hear she found humor in it as well, and started to tuck Ollie’s feet in the blanket, “I think it’s time to rest. Tomorrow morning won't be pleasant for you.” She abandoned the usual poise she had and leaned on to the side of the bed, propping her head up with her arm. She remained quiet for a moment before starting to hum. Moutrix, a soft Eflonian tune many people, even in in Setlain, used as a lullaby. Madeline was never great at remembering the lyrics, so she always hummed it.

Oleander didn’t need any convincing--she was exhausted. She laid down next Maddie, curled onto her side to face her queen, and closed her eyes once she was settled. Her eyes opened slightly when Maddie started humming a familiar tune. She smiled softly, though she’d never dare ask for something that seemed so juvenile, the lullaby was a welcome sound, and Oleander felt some of the tension leave her body and mind.

Solomon, having finished the remedy and with both it and some small stalks of a flowering plant in hand, was about to head back but was stopped in his tracks before he could even pass through the door.

A terrible feeling, as if he had been hit, grew his stomach. The tune his two guests were humming together carried across the room, much too familiar- how many times had he fallen asleep to that same song, sung so softly?

He closed his eye, and leaned against the door’s frame, and slowly drew in a breath. Don’t think about her.

Jaw clenched, he stood and waited, just taking in one breath after another.

Barely thirty seconds could’ve passed before his eye fluttered open again, to stare into the murky depths of the drink he was holding, before he corrected his posture and briskly made his way to Ollie. He carefully side-stepped around the chair the queen was sitting upon as to not bump into her, and bent over to set the small clump of herbs and the goblet on the table. His knuckles were white.

“The herbs are meadowsweet, if your head hurts you can chew on them to relieve some pain,” he spoke curtly, interrupting them before they were able to reach the end of the lullaby. “If you’re alright, I’m going to return to my chambers.” He avoided meeting their gazes, stepped around Madeleine once more, and promptly walked for the exit. It looked strange- Solomon knew- but he couldn’t stay longer.

With his hand on the doorknob he paused, as another thought briefly occurred to him. “Make sure she falls asleep on her side.” and with that, he had left.

Ollie lifted her head slightly upon the healers reentry. She narrowed her eyes--the man seemed to be upset about something--but nodded wordlessly as he explained the remedy. Once Solomon had exited the room, she exchanged a glance with Maddie before taking a tentative sip from the goblet. Ollie made a displeased sound, and wrinkled her nose. Whatever Solomon had given her, it was disgusting. She didn’t want to drink it, but after a bit of prodding from Maddie, she finished the contents of the goblet. After nibbling remnants of the bread from earlier, Oleander lay back down and slipped into a fitful sleep.

 

[Wert]

Day before Meeting.
Oleander fiddled with a small square of fabric, twisting it tightly before smoothing it back out again, making sure her work had not been undone.
After her humiliating episode on the night of the banquet, Ollie had stayed up all night, working on a piece of embroidery with the intent to present it to the Royal Advisor as a token of her apology. Her nights would have been sleepless already. She’d been having nightmares that pulled her violently out of sleep and Ollie knew that it was disturbing the rest of her queen and fellow ladies. So, instead of sleeping at night, she’d been embroidering by candlelight and stealing naps in a few hidden corners of the castle throughout the day.

She turned the fabric towards Maddie with a nervous smile. She’d worked hard on the portrait of the Advisor's dog. She wasn’t sure of the hounds’ name, but it was often seen following the man around, so she hoped the portrait would be appreciated (and might help him forgive her for vomiting on his food).

Madeline had been walking with her ladies down the main hall of Hoellan. What started as a vigorous search for the Royal Advisor was now a leisurely stroll. Well, for some it was. The young queen had finally tried one of the dresses her mother bought her that matched Freland’s usual style, but it was fairly stiff and uncomfortable around the torso. She felt as though she would fall over if she tried to do anything but stand straight. Rowana had also just finished scolding Maddie over leaving her shoes behind the night of the banquet, which the lady had gone behind her to pick up.

They had just reached the gardens when Oleander revealed the finished embroidery, something both Madeline and Rowana had seen her working on a few times. She smiled and gently reached to touch the edge of the fabric as she studied the subject, an auburn-furred dog they’d seen following the Advisor around. It was quite beautiful, in Madeline’s opinion.

“Ollie, this looks wonderful,” She exclaimed, turning slightly so Rowana could also see.

“I agree, that’s impressive,” Rowana, though she didn’t sound as excited, spoke with a relaxed tone to her voice. She’d been a bit down today, still somewhat sour over the night of the banquet, “This is for Freland’s Advisor?”

“Thank you,” Ollie said shyly, flushing at the compliments. She nodded at Rowana to confirm it was for the Advisor. She relaxed a bit at Rowana’s words; Ollie had been feeling fairly awkward around her after how angry the other lady had been at her the other night. Things still seemed tense, but at least they were speaking.

“If he doesn’t accept it, I would gladly take it,” Maddie said, in good humour. This produced a short fit of giggles from Ollie. A few gardeners had passed them by, to which Rowana stopped one to ask if they had seen the Royal Advisor around. Madeline stopped to wait on her lady. She wasn’t quite sure if he’d be in the gardens, considering she only ever saw him within the walls, but it was one of the few places they hadn’t looked before now.

The gardener bowed to Rowana before continuing on his way, and she approached her queen again, “He said that the advisor was here a short time ago, and he may still be here somewhere.”

“Maybe he’ll sprout like a daisy from the bushes,” Madeline said, to which Rowana stifled a giggle, “Come, we should check the pavilion.”

She continued walking until they made it to a part of the gardens that was walled with stone connecting to the castle. Verdure scaled the walls and polls around the stone canopy, though it was hardly unkempt. A figure sat at the small, circular wooden table within, writing in a charter. The half walls of the outside gave light to the area, and gave the women a better view of who was seated when he looked up from his work. An attentive growl emitted from the ball of fluff he called Beast as they approached. He set the charter and quill down so he could stand and bow respectively to the queen, “Your grace.”

“Lord Eliade, I apologize if we have interrupted your work,” Madeline neck bowed,”I believe I owe you an apology on behalf of my Lady, Oleander.”

Percy gave an unassuming smile, “There is no need, your grace. I don’t hold the mistakes of someone deep in their beverage against them.”

Oleander had been slowly moving to position herself behind Maddie as they approached the pavilion. Once Maddie and the advisor had exchanged their words, Ollie stepped forward with a shallow curtsy before speaking.

“Lord Eliade, I am here to offer my sincerest apologies for my behaviour on the night of the banquet. I offer this portrait of your dog as a token of my regret,” Ollie stepped forward again to present the embroidered cloth to the advisor. She stepped back again, letting out a breath. She had been rehearsing those words in her head for hours, and was pleased that she hadn’t stumbled over them.

Percy took the embroidery as it was handed to him and turned it around in his hands to get a good look at it. A modest yet happy smile grew on his features before he looked from it to Lady Oleander, “How charming! Thank you, Lady Clarke,” He turned and placed the cloth carefully onto the table, “Do not worry. As I said, I have already forgiven you.”

Oleander smiled brightly, delighted that her gift was appreciated. She accepted his words at face value, though she wasn’t sure many people would be so quick to forgive such an event. She concluded that Lord Eliade must be a very kind and understanding person, and she was glad that many of the people she had met in court so far were so welcoming and gracious.

“You’re very kind, Lord Eliade,” Madeline said, the relief obvious in her lightened tone. Even if he hadn’t really forgave them, it would be distasteful to bring it up again later. She smiled at him and Oleander, before speaking again,”We must take our leave. We have much to explore in Hoellan.” The young queen gave a neck bow, turning to leave with her ladies in waiting, “Farewell.”

“Be careful of the passage ways, your grace. They are quite dangerous,” Percy said after them, which Madeline gave a gentle nod of her head to him before continuing to walk. Percy sat back down, talking at Beast for a moment about the embroidery whilst he continued his work.

Though Madeline was a bit puzzled by this piece of information, she took it as helpful advice. It struck her curiosity as well. She locked her arms around her ladies' and bid farewell to the gardens for a time as they went about their activities that day.

 

[kibou]

Solomon closed the book in front of him, brushing the sides with his fingers.

“Merrick, I think this one would be good for you to read,” he called over his shoulder, picking it up and turning to hand it over as his apprentice headed over from finishing up in the dispensary.

The boy lifted it from his hand, and took a second to glance over the cover before opening it up and flipping through a few pages, frowning. There were some diagrams, but other than that…

“I can’t read this.”

“What do you mean?”

“This looks like... Setlaindish, right? I only know Kastian and Summerian.” Merrick reached over to place the book back into Solomon’s hand, who set it down in his lap, brows furrowing.

“Didn’t you grow up in the castle though?”

This elicited a small laugh, and a shake of Merrick’s redhead fluff. “Yeah but I’m not, like, a noble.”

“Ah.” He supposed he didn’t know much about what they did for the education of the servant’s children, and all the royals he’d interact with would speak their common language anyways. Slowly, Sol tapped his fingers on the cover of the book, thinking. “Would you be interested in learning Setlaindish? You’d have to dedicate a portion of your day to it, or a few times a week. Around now might actually be a good time, since we’ve finished with our regular work.”

The boy exhaled, his cheeks puffing out slightly. “Well... it’s getting a little late. Maybe just for a bit.”

“I didn’t mean- well. Alright. We’ll want a desk.”

Once again he picked up the book, and with the bottom of his palm on the back of the small chair Solomon pushed himself up. WIth his apprentice following after they made their way back into the dispensary, a kitchen-esque room with shelves full from top to bottom with containers holding various substances, plants, books, and tools. In one corner was a small stovetop for heat, and the other, a small table. Solomon stuck the book between another and the right wall of a shelf, having to shove in order to get it to fit in the already cluttered space. From another shelf he procured some plain parchment and quills, setting them down on the table and getting an ink pot while Merrick sat and waited.

With everything gotten together, he sat across the table, and with the quill began scratching out letters. “Ideally, we’d have a book to work out of- maybe a child’s book if one not meant for teaching- I can check the libraries and see if there’s any, the tutors might just have their own…” he trailed off for a second, still writing, “but we can start now, with the alphabets.”

Having just been peering at the parchment, not sure exactly what Sol was doing, Merricks eyes went wide. “Alpha-bets?”

“Well, there’s the traditional alphabet. And then with many cultures mixing, over time the Kastian alphabet was incorporated, but some of the pronunciations are a little different, so you’ll have to learn those. The whole language is a mix of Eflonian and the languages of everyone who immigrated there, so the basis is Eflonian but there’s a lot of words you’ll probably recognize. The grammar’s a bit different too-.”

“That sounds like a lot. So one looks like Kastian, but it’s not?”

“Compared to Kastian it’s more consistent. No silent letters or anything,” he grimaced slightly, memories of his own struggle with the ridiculous pronunciation rules coming to mind for just a second before he pushed them away. “Here,” he turned the parchment around, pushing it closer to Merrick, who’d begun to rest his chin on the table.

He picked it up, holding it in front of him so he wouldn’t have to sit straight, eyes flicking across the page.

“So, I’ve written pronunciations under all the letters. And the first sentence,” Solomon reached around to tap near the bottom of the page, “is ‘Hello, I am Merrick’....”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

“Hey,” Merrick dropped a thick tome in front of Solomon with a thud and pulled out a chair to sit, “I was looking for more books to read to practice Setlaindish since I finished the last ones, and I found this. It looks like Setlaindish, and I can recognize most of the words, but when I try to read it nothing makes sense and it gives me a headache.”

Curiosity about the headache book piqued, Sol brushed his fingers over the well-worn cover, and lifted it open. He read a small hand-written note on the inner corner, flipped to a page about a fifth through it, and skimmed, eyebrows rising with the corners of his mouth as he recognized a passage from a well-known, though usually spoken saga.

“What!?”

“Well, of course you can’t read it, this isn’t Setlaindish.” Seeing the confusion in his apprentice’s face, he expanded, “It’s Eflonian. I wouldn’t expect to find this here, but it looks like it was given as a gift for the library a long time ago.”

In one motion, with a snap, he closed it and held it up away from Merrick’s reaching hand. “And, it’s… not quite appropriate for young people, either.” By their standards, at least.

The boy huffed and plopped back into his seat, folding his arms.

“So, you can read it?”

“Ahh, the village I’m from is a bit more uh…” he leaned back, placing the tome on a counter, “...traditional. So, I know both.”

Turning back to Merrick, he found himself being stared at rather intensely. He’d known it was a mistake as soon as the question had come out of the other’s mouth, but it wasn’t unheard of for a Setlainder to speak both, and-

His racing thoughts were interrupted when the boy leaned in, eyes wide, and burst out the last thing he was preparing for:

“Do the girls walk around shirtless?”

It took a moment to get over the shock, but as soon as he processed the question Solomon’s whole face screwed up, and he let out a sputtering laugh.

“I- no, no that’s… ahaha, uh, a myth?” Definitely not in Setlain.

With the disappointing news and the humiliation of being laughed at, Merrick huffed and slumped into his chair once more.

Thinking about the question more, Solomon’s face fell, his nose remaining scrunched. “Eugh, perhaps, maybe if you want to discuss things like that, you should talk to someone like…” Who else was near his age? “Emerson?”

“What, you don’t like girls?”

“Merrick that’s not-”

“Duchess Cecily was saying you might not like girls.”

“Duchess Cecily is clearly upset that I don’t like her.”

“Hmmmm.”

“Anyways, back to the subject at hand,” Solomon didn’t like the all too-familiar quiet ‘I’m thinking very hard of something quite ridiculous’ look on his apprentice’s visage, “if you’re looking to practice your Setlain-”

“I think Percy might be a good husband for you.”

“Merrick.”

“Both of you are always working, all day long, and do nothing else so it makes sense.”

“How about Eflonian? You want to learn that as well?”

The prospect seemed intriguing enough to give the blabbermouth some pause. Relieved, Solomon opened his mouth to continue, and was promptly interrupted.

“I think Percy might be a man-whore though.”

Some strange noise between a groan, a sigh, and laugh escaped through his teeth.

“Like, sometimes at events when she shows up, he goes off and talks to that Madam. How frequent a customer do you even have to be to make friends with the owner?”

“Merrick I don’t give a shit if Perceus is a whore.”

“Do you hope Percy is a whore?” An insufferable grin had spread across the redhead’s face.

“Do you think Perceus would want to trade apprentices?”

“Probably not!”

“So! Other than just having the one alphabet, Eflonian’s a lot more particular when it comes to how you address people, you know how with Setlaindish certain words and verb endings change based on how close you are to-”

“I bet we can look into it.”

Ignoring what Merrick had just mumbled under his breath, and whoever ‘we’ was, he simply continued. “-someone? It’s a lot more relaxed than in Eflonian, so there’s a lot more versions of words you have to learn, but at the same time family is more of a loose concept that can apply to anyone who’s important to you. For instance, perhaps the other servants here in Hoellan that you care about, like... Not Guinevere or Emerson, since they’re a different social class than you, but-”

“Oh, so like, you?”

Solomon blinked.

“Like, I mean, other than my family family you’d be family too?”

Merricks teacher silently lifted his hand to his face, and as he rested his head in his palm the boy caught a glimpse of him closing his eye and his lips pulling taut and Merrick’s stomach dropped. He hadn’t really meant any of the other things, but did he say something really wrong? Was that too far?

“S- sorry, I guess I shouldn’t have said all that.” He placed his palms on the edge on the table and pushed him and the chair back with a sccrrrt, standing.

“No, no you’re fine,” Sol waved his hand, Merrick unsure how to read his now exposed expression, “Let’s just continue some other time.”

The older man stood as well, taking the book that had started their conversation off the shelf and shoving it between his left elbow and body so as to hold it in place, and as he passed by outstretched his arm to ruffle Merrick’s hair. The boy ducked his head under the gentle force of his teacher’s hand, but not before spying what he thought was something of a smile.