08-20-2021, 01:32 AM
(This post was last modified: 08-20-2021, 10:27 PM by Rowan Finnegan.)
A continuation of On Matters of Succession
1000 N.E.
Third Age
Sometime between Winter and Spring
Vivienne Accylon Bio
A silvery slash of light appeared in the air before Merdyn Gilyard, rotating vertically until a doorway seemed to materialize from the light. He turned to Vivienne and Letto, waggling his eyebrows in delight. The lordling had recovered quickly from his meeting with the Daughter Heir. She had done a fine job of cowing the man. Had he not come here to support her claim in the Succession?
The Daughter Heir, and indeed Vivienne, had known that Gilyard fled the Black Tower. They had heard as much from his own mouth, but the man refused to explain much beyond that. He had spouted off some dribble about the M’Hael being too strict and violent a teacher. Vivienne did not doubt it, but something still stank about the whole affair. Gilyard had risen to the title of Asha’man – the Black Tower’s vain attempt at playing Aes Sedai – and now he had fled?
Vivienne felt a smugness over the bond. Letto had been acting like a feral cat ever since they had started this endeavor with Gilyard, but that had all changed since the meeting with the Daughter Heir. Letto had been vindicated in that moment. They really would have to have a talk about it later. Vivienne needed to remain calm and centered, especially with these political plots they were finding themselves wound in to. It was incredibly hard to maintain your own thoughts when your Warder was silenelty lashing about over some noble.
“Are you both ready? Or should I tie it off?” Merdyn asked with a half roll of the eye. Letto’s spine stiffened and Vivienne laid a hand upon the woman’s arm.
“Would you see to the guards?” Vivienne asked Letto, glancing behind them. The Daughter Heir had given them a sparse twenty-five soldiers for the mission. Vivienne would have argued for more, but the Guard had already been stretched thin these last few weeks and she did not want any of the hired mercenaries present in this group. A matter such as this required men and women loyal to Andor.
Letto nodded before going to the soldiers, herding them along through Gilyard’s gateway. Vivienne walked up to the man, twitching her shawl ostentatiously. He all but groaned.
“Trust me, Gilyard. It is better this way,” Vivienne said honestly. She looked on at the passing soldiers, marching in step through the hole in the air. A light breeze came from the other side.
“You might be right, you might be wrong,” Gilyard replied shortly, arms crossed and eyes forward.
“Give over man. No one likes a sulking lordling,” She said as she turned to face him. Merdyn Gilyard was noticeably taller than she, but it did not matter. Her eyes bore a hole into the side of his skull until he finally turned to look at her in turn.
“I was not sulking,” He said sheepishly before looking away again, “You think I should be dancing for joy? I take no pleasure in what we do.”
“It was you who asked for this, Gilyard.”
“What he did…” Merdyn grew silent, still refusing to look at her, “He’s still my father. I may hate the man, but I cannot like slapping irons on him. I may have cursed his very existence, but I cannot enjoy seeing him sent to the gallows, no matter who he has killed or what he has done. I have to be better than him. I am better than him.”
Vivienne was shocked at his honestly. She had been about ready to dress him down herself, cowing him back into that corner the Daughter Heir had put him in to. It was attitudes like that from the nobles that kept Vivienne from dealing with them in the first place – no matter her Ajah. The common folk were much more straightforward and honest. But then, Gilyard was acting that way now. Vivienne found herself understanding the man more, even sympathizing. She could not fault him for this behavior. She opened her mouth to say as much, but the lordling cut her off sharply.
“The soldiers are through. Would you mind following, Aes Sedai, so that I might let go of my weaving?”
Gilyard all but glared at her. She found all traces of sympathy for the man disappearing under that hard gaze. She said nothing. She simply walked away from the man and through the gateway.
1000 N.E.
Third Age
Sometime between Winter and Spring
Vivienne Accylon Bio
A silvery slash of light appeared in the air before Merdyn Gilyard, rotating vertically until a doorway seemed to materialize from the light. He turned to Vivienne and Letto, waggling his eyebrows in delight. The lordling had recovered quickly from his meeting with the Daughter Heir. She had done a fine job of cowing the man. Had he not come here to support her claim in the Succession?
The Daughter Heir, and indeed Vivienne, had known that Gilyard fled the Black Tower. They had heard as much from his own mouth, but the man refused to explain much beyond that. He had spouted off some dribble about the M’Hael being too strict and violent a teacher. Vivienne did not doubt it, but something still stank about the whole affair. Gilyard had risen to the title of Asha’man – the Black Tower’s vain attempt at playing Aes Sedai – and now he had fled?
Vivienne felt a smugness over the bond. Letto had been acting like a feral cat ever since they had started this endeavor with Gilyard, but that had all changed since the meeting with the Daughter Heir. Letto had been vindicated in that moment. They really would have to have a talk about it later. Vivienne needed to remain calm and centered, especially with these political plots they were finding themselves wound in to. It was incredibly hard to maintain your own thoughts when your Warder was silenelty lashing about over some noble.
“Are you both ready? Or should I tie it off?” Merdyn asked with a half roll of the eye. Letto’s spine stiffened and Vivienne laid a hand upon the woman’s arm.
“Would you see to the guards?” Vivienne asked Letto, glancing behind them. The Daughter Heir had given them a sparse twenty-five soldiers for the mission. Vivienne would have argued for more, but the Guard had already been stretched thin these last few weeks and she did not want any of the hired mercenaries present in this group. A matter such as this required men and women loyal to Andor.
Letto nodded before going to the soldiers, herding them along through Gilyard’s gateway. Vivienne walked up to the man, twitching her shawl ostentatiously. He all but groaned.
“Trust me, Gilyard. It is better this way,” Vivienne said honestly. She looked on at the passing soldiers, marching in step through the hole in the air. A light breeze came from the other side.
“You might be right, you might be wrong,” Gilyard replied shortly, arms crossed and eyes forward.
“Give over man. No one likes a sulking lordling,” She said as she turned to face him. Merdyn Gilyard was noticeably taller than she, but it did not matter. Her eyes bore a hole into the side of his skull until he finally turned to look at her in turn.
“I was not sulking,” He said sheepishly before looking away again, “You think I should be dancing for joy? I take no pleasure in what we do.”
“It was you who asked for this, Gilyard.”
“What he did…” Merdyn grew silent, still refusing to look at her, “He’s still my father. I may hate the man, but I cannot like slapping irons on him. I may have cursed his very existence, but I cannot enjoy seeing him sent to the gallows, no matter who he has killed or what he has done. I have to be better than him. I am better than him.”
Vivienne was shocked at his honestly. She had been about ready to dress him down herself, cowing him back into that corner the Daughter Heir had put him in to. It was attitudes like that from the nobles that kept Vivienne from dealing with them in the first place – no matter her Ajah. The common folk were much more straightforward and honest. But then, Gilyard was acting that way now. Vivienne found herself understanding the man more, even sympathizing. She could not fault him for this behavior. She opened her mouth to say as much, but the lordling cut her off sharply.
“The soldiers are through. Would you mind following, Aes Sedai, so that I might let go of my weaving?”
Gilyard all but glared at her. She found all traces of sympathy for the man disappearing under that hard gaze. She said nothing. She simply walked away from the man and through the gateway.