In which Haft sees Cor for the first time since the day of the battle
Concerned by his latest conversation with Darius, Haft tries to find and appropriate officer to report to. Unable to locate Captain Garian or Lord Dar, he decides to inquire after Sir Colin, and remembering Lanisen’s fondness for the hounds, goes in search of Lanisen there to ask.
Haft walks into the Kennels.
The kennel of Anvard is a fairly spacious room, well-lit by the windows in the south wall looking toward the Outer Ward. It is immediately obvious that the hounds housed here are quite well-treated: the floor is kept clean-swept; the blankets padding the dogs’ wooden beds are thick and warm; and the hounds themselves have a certain sleek, well-fed look. Several pens can be seen toward the back of the room, likely used to isolate dogs that are sick, injured, or in need of further training, but the majority of the castle hounds are allowed to roam freely about the room.
A fireplace, lit on cold days, is set into the east wall, opposite the door to the quarters of Danall, the Master of Hounds. A set of wooden stairs leads up to a second level. -=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=
You can go: Up <U>, Outer Ward <S>, Huntsman’s Chamber <W>
Cor slowly and excruciatingly extracts himself from under the dog’s head and forelegs without waking her, but finds his legs pretty thoroughly asleep. “No — it’s your kennel — sorry, I shouldn’t have been –”
Lanisen has a moment of blank astonishment at this assertion. “Uhh…” He glances rather helplessly around the empty kennels and says, “You’re–you’re the prince, your highness, it’s, it’s your kennel really, you don’t gotta, um, leave.” He clears his throat.
Haft steps into the kennel, taking a moment for his eyes to adjust. “Lanisen? Are you–” His eyes come to rest on Cor and widen in a strange expression.
Cor gets even pinker, if that’s possible, looking a bit like he wishes he’d never thought to shirk his early morning schedule.
Lanisen starts slightly when the door opens and looks that way. He relaxes a little when he sees that it’s only Haft, and glances back at Cor. “That one’s called Sorrel, your highness,” he says, gesturing to the dog. He stands for an awkward beat, then bows again and backs away, quite as red as the prince.
Haft schools his expression and bows. “Your Highness.” He turns to address Lanisen. “Pardon the interruption, but I was looking for Sir Colin and remembered you were his friend and fond of the hounds.”
Cor decides the best course of action is to just stand in the corner next to Sorrel with his mouth quite shut until they’ve had their conversation or a straight run through to door opens up, whichever comes first.
Lanisen says, “Ahh, Sir Colin’s not at court right now, sorry. He said he’d be back in a few weeks.”
Haft asks, “Oh, I see. And perhaps Lord Dar is who I really want…I’m afraid I’m yet unfamiliar with the intricacies of the court. Is Sir Colin the king’s deputy, or…?”
Lanisen says, “Er, yeah, you’d be lookin’ for Lord Dar. And he is at court, least as far as I know, so you’re in luck there.”
Cor asks, “Uh–?”
Haft says, “Thank you. I will pursue the matter with him then.” He turns to Cor. “A question, Your Highness?””
Cor says, “That’s, uh, that’s the great tall one with the –” he makes a motion over his chest to indicate a chain, “– right?””
Haft smiles faintly. “Yes.”
Cor says, “I… think he went home?” He screws up his face. “… to… Coghill? Or not home. Sort of. Sort of home.”
Lanisen says, “Oh!” He glances at Haft and makes an apologetic grimace.
Haft asks, “I see. Well, I thank you for your help Lanisen. I suppose I must continue my search…Is something wrong?”
Lanisen looks confused. He looks at Cor.
Cor looks back at him, raising his brows to indicate that he doesn’t think the question was directed at him.
Lanisen says tentatively, “N…ooo?”
Haft shrugs lightly. “It would appear we are all confused. No matter.” He glances at Cor again and something like worry flashes across his face. He opens his mouth, then closes it again. “I shall take my leave. Do enjoy the dogs.”
Lanisen nods politely to Haft.
Cor asks, “Oh — wait?”
Haft stops, his hand on the latch. He turns back. “Your Highness?”
Cor asks, “Sorry, uh, you work here?”
Haft clasps his hands behind his back. “I used to. I have spent some years away, and am to rejoin the guard as soon as I speak to Captain Garian.”
Lanisen glances at Haft, slightly impressed.
Cor asks, “Oh. What’s your name?”
Something flickers through Haft’s gaze, but he unclasps his hands and bows again. “Haft, Your Highness.”
Cor nods. “Haft. I…” he repeats the name under his breath again and blushes. “I might have to ask again.”
Haft smiles faintly. “It will be no trouble to repeat. Is there anything else, Your Highness?”
Lanisen grins at this, glancing back at the prince.
Cor exclaims, “No, sorry, go ahead! I hope you find him.”
Haft inclines his head and, turning, exits the room.