In which Haft helps make a delivery
You stand in the Anvard Stable. All around you are stalls and equipment. There are horses of all colors, but all are high caliber. The far wall is hung with saddles, bridles, stirrups and other tack. There is fresh straw in every stall and buckets for water are hung on hooks. There are several special stalls for visiting talking horses. The floor is hardpacked dirt.
You can go: Outer Ward <N>
Contents: A daughter of eve with mid-back length hair (Dalia) and A son of adam
with laughing blue eyes (Darrin).
Dalia takes good step or couple back when the stallion bares his teeth. She only inches forward slightly when Darrin has called the horse down again, still it isn’t close by any amount. “I-I didn’t mean to to startle… I….I didn’t know anyone was here besides the stable boys.
Dar comes walking through the stable door from the Outer Ward.
Darrin pats Gambol’s neck, still keeping a hand on the stallion’s halter. “Oh, don’t be sorry, it wasn’t your fault. He’s just…that way, I suppose.” He jostles the horse with a shoulder and Gambol snorts loudly but doesn’t actually startle, as if he’s getting used to this strange lord. And, I suppose it usually is just the stable boys. This fellow and I are working on getting acquainted and striking up an accord, though, so I’ve been spending more time here of late.”
Haft enters the stables with a large bag of oats slung over his shoulder. He looks to a stable hand for an indication as to where to put it, then walks over and sets it down.
Dar guides Celeres through the stable doors a few moments after Haft enters. His height makes his presence immediately evident. The horse looks winded, though obviously well cared for, and Dar’s outfit is rather more rumpled than usual, as if he has had a long ride. His boots are similarly caked with dust.
Dalia ahs, nodding. She tilts her head back to take in the horse from shoulder to head. “I’ve always admired them. Horses. It must be lovely to have your own.”
Darrin follows her glance to the blood bay whose stall he’s in. “Well, he’s not /mine/, exactly, but we are going to be working together. For a while, at least.” He bites his lip, looking like he’s debating elaborating, but then he catches sight of Dar and Celeres and whatever he was or was not going to say is lost.
Haft rises from putting down the oats and, turning, sees the brothers and offers a bow.
Dar bows to his brother, a faint trace of weariness showing. By the time he inclines his head in greeting to the others, his features have resumed their ordinary sober, emotionless aspect.
Dalia hears Dar approach and steps back out of the way, curtsying as she tries to blend in with the nearby wall.
Darrin is well-enough versed in Dar’s expressions to catch this look, and he arches a brow sharply before he nods back, the smile he offered his brother automatically fading somewhat. He lets go Gambol’s halter and turns to collect the rest of the grooming supplies he’s been using before letting himself out of the stall.
Haft turns and speaks quietly to the stable hand for a moment.
Dar moves Celeres into his stall and gives him an efficient rubdown. He carefully checks each hoof and makes sure the stallion is tended. When this is done, he summons over a groom. “Take care with him. He has more than earned his feed this day.”
Haft mumbles “Saw a boy in the ward about half the size of that bag, struggling to drag it along. Said his pa was sick at home and was trying to fill in. Chatty little lad. Seemed real proud that their oats had been served to foreign royalty.”, to Haft.
Haft mumbles “Saw a boy in the ward about half the size of that bag, struggling to drag it along. Said his pa was sick at home and was trying to fill in. Chatty little lad. Seemed real proud that their oats had been served to foreign royalty.”, to the stable hand.
Haft mumbles “… a boy … the … … … … … … … … … … drag … … … … pa … … at home … was trying … … in. … Chatty little lad. … Seemed … proud that their oats had … served … … royalty.”, to the stable hand.
Darrin goes to put his things away and then comes over and leans on Dar’s stall door while he works, moving aside when his brother steps out again. “So, you look all done in,” he says without preamble.
The stable hand laughs and Haft turns toward the door.
Dar runs his hand through his hair. He speaks a few quiet words to his brother.
Dar mumbles “… received…a letter … … … … … well…but … … … … the…thought … impending … … a way … the nerves.”, to Darrin.
Dalia slips from her place against the wall, and slips into the main hall towards the door having to doge a few stable boys (and possibly a horse being led by?)
Darrin rolls his eyes heavenward, sending an exaggerated ‘can you believe this guy?’ look towards the rafters. He sighs heavily. “You think too much, brother,” he says, throwing an arm around Dar’s shoulders (and, admittedly having to stretch up in order to do so). “Come on, if you’re finished here, why don’t you come have a drink with me?”
Haft and Dalia both reach the door at about the same time. “Oh, hello again,” he says.
Dar’s mouth twitches ever-so-faintly at the corners. “Why else do I keep you around if not to remind me of that on occasion. I would not object to a visit to the Narrow Gate, if such is your prescription–” The fact that he agrees to the diversion so readily, rather than suggesting the mountains of paperwork that await him, suggests how much the diversion is necessary.
Dalia starts a little, her cheeks a little pink with embarrassment as she turns to Haft she relaxes a little upon seeing him. “Oh, hello.”
Haft asks, “You spend much time in the stables?”
Darrin drops his arm after a rather short period of time and massages it subtly (which is to say, with a great lack of subtlety). He smirks. “Yes, well, that’s me, here to deliver prescriptions of alcohol and gaiety in the face of life’s many challengs. And witty one-liners, of course.” He lets go of his arm, and then, with an even-more wicked smirk than his previous one, offers it to Dar. “The Narrow Gate it is!”
Haft, realizing they’re blocking the exit, takes Dalia by the elbow and heads outside.
You stand in the busy outer ward of Castle Anvard, full of people seeing to the needs of king and kingdom. There are market stalls along the outer wall, bustling with merchants and shoppers. Grooms work in the stables, tending to the horses there, and you hear the occasional bark of a dog from the kennels. The sounds of hammer hitting iron rings out from the blacksmith shop. There are stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the outer curtain. To the east is the outer gatehouse, and the road leading into the realm of Archenland, and to the west another gate, leading to the inner gatehouse, the inner ward, and the main keep of Anvard.
You can go: Kennels <N>, Northern Market <NE>, Outer Gatehouse <E>, Southern Market <SE>, Stables <S>, Blacksmith <SW>, Inner Gatehouse <W>, South Stair <US>, North Stair <UN>
Dalia comes walking toward you from the Stable.
Dalia arrives, following Haft.
You are not carrying that player.
Haft stops Dalia from walking with him.
Darrin comes walking toward you from the Stable.
Dar comes walking toward you from the Stable.
Dar arrives, following Darrin.
Darrin walks eastward toward the gatehouse.
Dar leaves, following Darrin.
Dar walks eastward toward the gatehouse.
Once they’re outside the stables, Haft replies, “Oh, I see. I’m not in there much myself either. I know enough to stay upright on a horse’s back, if he’s not too high-spirited, but don’t really know much about horsemanship in general.”
Haft says, “Well, it was nice to see you again. Suppose I’d best go and get out of uniform. Excuse me.”
Haft walks up the north stair.