(1310-05-08) Dramatic Arrival
Summary: A foreign guest arrives, dramatically so!
RL Date: Tue May 08, 2018
Related: None.
aziza armandine 

Great Hall

High and light colored are the walls of the Great Hall, woods of golden tones used in the wainscoting that reaches till mid-level, with elaborate ornaments of fish chasing each other carved into them. A great hearth governs one end of the hall, with a large shield looming above, showing the coat of arms of House Mereliot. With six tall windows on one side framed by long dark blue curtains of heavy brocade, the wall opposite has a line of a couple of shields of Eisandine Houses, placed at regular intervals, and the pair of impressive double doors, through which courtiers usually will enter. The floor is of polished cream colored marble, enhanced with white inlay work depicting the ever repeating pattern of Mereliot fish. Lighting is provided through the lamps at the walls and three large chandeliers suspended from the arched ceiling, polished glass beads glittering where they catch and magnify the light of candles.


It is late, but not too late. Afternoon is already progressing towards evening, and it has been a nice day, warm and drizzling spring hinting at a warm and lovely summer to come. In the great hall of the ducal palace, it has been no less busy, and the Duchesse of Eisande has received a number of courtiers already, on a number of requests and concerns of varying gravity. By now she has chosen to recline a little, one goblet of wine recently accepted into her hand as she enjoys a brief pause from courtly duties. When a somewhat urgent knock to the double doors precedes a few men entering, guards in Mereliot colors, with urgent expressions edged upon their features. In their company, a small group of no more than six or seven, and a young woman among them - all of thm foreign looking. A sigh escapes Armandine de Mereliot and she straightens in her seat, handing the goblet to the maid attending to her. "What is…. the meaning of this?", the duchesse asks. And instantly, curiosity and concern are evident in her features and tone.

Well these men weren't very subtle as they force their way into doors. Needless to say the four tall dark skinned men burst in, about of a soft caramel carry swords on their sides but their cloths are tattered and bloodied. There's a fifth man carrying a young woman in his arms who's breathing heavily but clutching an ebon bow with bright golden carvings upon it. Her hair was wild and her own back clothes tattered and bloodied but none of it seems to be hers at first. That free hand clutching her side she seems to be pressing tightly as she winces as they walk. No weapons drawn but hands up in peace, they speak amongst themselves in Menkhetan….obviously not able to speak the native tongue. That fifth man moves forward past the four and murmurs something to the young woman as she slowly opens her eyes as she turns her head. She speaks in their native tongue, the man hesitating but putting her down slowly. Standing up somewhat straight she slowly bows. "…..I am….Amabassador Aziza Nimr….from Menekhet….and…." A pause as she wavers, that man coming back to grab her. "….we simply seek rest. We were attacked in the north of what you would call Caerdicca Unitas….and most of my caravan was lost."

The Lady of Marsilikos may have knowledge of a few foreign languages, alas, Menekhetan is not one of them. Still, with the deranged state of both men and their charge becoming more and more evident, Armandine rises to her feet, not hastily but with that graceful determination. Shooing a guard off who was about to step between her and those wild looking foreigners, the duchesse descends the steps from the dais, skirts rustling softly with the fine skirts of dark blue silk with maritime patterns embroidered onto them in a darker thread. She comes to stand not too far from where Aziza rises to her full height, steadied by one of her guards, and with her hands laced loosely before her she listens, when the young woman begins to speak, a flicker of relief there in her grey eyes, when she notes that the foreigner speaks d'Angeline. "Be welcome, Ambassador. I was not aware that you were headed for us." Another step towards the woman, as the Lady of Marsilikos studies her from closer proximity. The smile, kind as it had been thins before it vanishes, when Armandine's gaze drops to the obvious injury at Aziza's side. "I must apologize for my men, it seems. For having you not seen to the infirmary to have your wounds treated." Her gaze lifts, to meet Aziza's gaze. "Regardless who did this to you, I welcome you to my court and assure you that you shall be safe here. And yet. I do wonder. Who dared attack you?" A gesture towards an attendant, and the duchesse commands, "Bring a healer. At once. The lady is in need of treatment." While the man hurries off, Armandine takes a half-step to the side, in an unfinished circling motion. "Nimr…", she echoes the name thoughtfully, "You are related to the Pharaoh, perchance?"

Those men of hers stood still….but kept their gaze on Aziza. The tall woman winces but slowly removes her hand as she seems to ignore the pain for now. "Thank you. We weren't intending on making this a stop just yet but….we were close to your city compared to anywhere else…" Looking to her men, she speaks to them in their tongue and they visibly relaxed. Exhaling, those eyes would close as she slowly bows then. "Thank you for hospitality. As for whom? I do not know. They looked like raiders or the like. If I had known Caerdicca was so hostile….my cousin would have sent more men…." A beat. "But then we'd look like a small army instead of a symbol of peace…." Standing up she then clears her throat. "No need to apologize, your highness….." There was a look of pondering but she stuck with that as she heard that topic change. "….yes. The Pharaoh and I are cousins…..my family are known to be protectors and the like. I was blessed to be a bit more than just that."

"True.", Armandine responds to Aziza's remark about how they would have appeared, had they arrived in greater numbers. "But a symbol of peace is what you aim to be?" That smile of hers deepens just a little. "And if you are related to the Pharaoh… does that make you a princess? Or a lady, by our standards. I for my part am no highness, as I cannot boast to have any Courcel blood flowing in my veins. My people prefer to call me 'Your Grace'." Her brows furrow a little at one of Aziza's explanations. "Protectors, hmm?" She takes a half step back, considering the woman before her. "We may have to look into the matter who it was that attacked you. But for now, I shall insist that you'd be my guest. I shall have chambers prepared for you in the guest tower. You might prefer to have your wound looked at in the privacy of a room, rather than a hall. If you are an Ambassador of Menekhet, you must be headed for the City of Elua? But I ask you to stay, until you have recovered fully. Lady Aziza."

Aziza seems to be in thought as she regards the woman in front of her. Taking a deep breath she seems to be frowning but if anything….holding back the pain. "Yes. We are looking to secure trade routes and extend goodwill….." A slight smile then as she realizes she's still clutching her bow, passing it to the man with her. "Protectors….." There seems to be a thought as she looks around, then motions to her guards. "Like your men here. I however prefer my words…..like my father. He too was a diplomat but a warrior. He did not wish me to be unprepared thus taught me the bow." At that she nods. "Thank you….you are too kind. I shall be sending word to my Pharaoh to let him know of the development. But yes….we were heading to Elua, your grace….." She seemed to skirt that topic of what she is but at the mention of lady she smiles. "I….am not sure. The Pharaoh's father and my grandfather were brothers. Perhaps…lady then? We tend to just go by the Nimr….of a royal line but not in line for the throne."

Something happens in the countenance of the Duchesse, a slight shift of expression into a warmer, more concerned cast. "I shall not insist on talking to you about this in more detail, right at this moment.", Armandine tells Aziza. "You are in need of care from a healer. In this palace - in this city you will be under my protection. Please, let the healer see to your wounds, before you consider writing that letter. Perhaps I shall add a letter of mine own, so that we can send the message by ship to your home land of Menekhet. I would like to hear more of your home, and of how you got this far. I want to hear of the attack but about other encounters you've had on your way… This sounds like you have quite the story to tell. I don't know if you heard, but people of this province have a penchant for good tales…" Perhaps she would have added more, but the arrival of the healer provides an interruption. "My castellan will lead you to your quarters. The healer will take care of you first, and then of your men. A meal and lemon water shall be brought to you." The duchesse inclines her head. "We shall speak more later." It is the only sensible decision, and yet her eyes shine brightly with considerations, when she has to be patient.

"Thank you…." She watches her a moment longer before that healer shows. Those men look to one another and she smiles as she just nods as she holds up a hand. Those brown eyes returning to Armadine she nods a bit. "They re not used to other medicines but I'm sure it must not be much different." At that she chuckles a bit then grins. "Stories….I can do stories. Perhaps how I got all the way here….as you said. But…." A nod as she bows again. "…thank you your grace. I will follow your men and then get some rest. I could use it….." Though she seemed she full of energy, her eyes told a different story. She was tired…..exhausted. But with that dismissal she would make her way to that tower.

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