Camilla lay in bed silent for a few moments. She had scrubbed herself well, washed and brushed her hair and made herself ready in every way for tomorrow. They would still need to buy clothing for the ball of course and hope that the whole awful mess could be neatly dropped into the Chamberlin's lap. Such a man, with the ear of the Graf and the backing of the Knights of the White Wolf, warriors famous even in distant Tilea, would be able to handle it if anyone could.
Instead of answering Cydric right away she reached down from the bed and touched him, finding his leg and working her way up his body until she gripped his hand. It seemed big and rough compared to hers and it was a comforting sensation.
"You were the one who saved me as I remember it," she said softly a ghost of a smile playing across her face. There had been alot of horror these past few weeks and it seemed a life time since they had fled the court in Ostland. For all the peril and terror though there had been good times. Cydric laughing at her impression of an Imperial accent, watching Ivan dance drunkenly on the deck of the Pride. Most of her life Camilla had been, and had thought of herself as a commodity, something that had value because it was valued by others. It was strange to think that someone though she had value just for being herself. Well in so much as pretending to be a Brettonian Exile could be considered being herself.
She tried to find some frame of reference to express the thought but for some reason it seemed incredibley funny. Against her will she snorted out a little giggle, which rapidly became a laugh. A moment later Cydric joined in with her and they were both laughing uproariously at they knew not what. The both laughed until their throats were hoarse and their eyes ran with tears. When she finally fell asleep she was still gripping the Imperial's hand.
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When they awoke in the morning they left the Boar's head quickly. The usual breakfast crowd was gathering but it was a somber group, regulars mourning the loss of Bella, telling stories of her flashing eyes and acid tongue. With no stomach for such talk they made instead for a local chophouse where Camilla hungrily consumed fried ham, an egg and something that Cydric identified as black pudding but informed her she probably would be happier not to know the contents of. She took him at his word.
After that it was on to shopping and Camilla was reminded why it was much better to have rich men pay for your dresses rather than buying them yourself. After trying on a half dozen of what she was assured was the 'latest style form Altdorf', or 'all the rage in Marienburg, she settled on a tight blue velvet gown of Brettonian design with a long slit down the side of the skirt down the side of the leg, hoping that if she needed to run away it would be more convenient than the buskined monstrosities that the Tsarina of Kislev's court was supposed to favor. It matched well with her hair sapphire pendant and tiara she had purchased the day before. She also selected a silver buckled weapons belt of black leather, which the tailor insisted was completely inappropriate for a woman, for the purpose of bringing her rapier with her. This accomplished, she paid approximately a Bretonnian Dukes ransom and left the store.
Cydric was easier to shop for. Mostly by virtue of clearly not being as interested in the process as she was. He allowed her to pick out a grey and white silk shirt with very slight pleats around the shoulders and upper arms, black trousers of fine wool and black boots with polished brass buckles that had been buffed to a high sheen. They completed the ensemble with a curaiss of half plate which buckled over the whole affair. Cydric was dismissive of it as useful armor, clearly having been designed for pistoleers, but it shown and was impressed with a simple Imperial eagle, spreading its wings wide across the front of the piece. The eagle was also picked out in brass and Camilla deemed it showy enough while maintaining an appropriately Marshall theme. He drew his line in the sand about the puffed and tasseled hat she suggested and Camilla graciously allowed such a minor act of rebellion. He also selected a white leather weapons belt with a gold buckle shaped into the howling wolf of Ulric, about which the storekeeper made no comment, to Camilla's slight annoyance. The whole ensemble cost less than a third what hers had, despite containing a literal piece of armor.
Thus appareled they packed the finery away in paper satchels and headed for the palace. Their Wolf tokens and their invitations to the ball sufficed to get them passed the guards and into the palace where a fussy servant showed them to the Chamberlain's office. It was a neat place, with a few maps of the province and a few of the city as well as large comfortable seats. The dark wooden desk in the center was a notable exception as it was piled high with parchments on dozens of topics. The old man only kept them waiting a few minutes.
The man that arrived was much changed from the ruddy and energetic man whom had greeted them a few days prior. He moved with a pronounced limp and his face was grey and drawn. His robes of office seemed to hang somewhat limply around him.
"Ah my friends, I appologise for not meeting you yesterday," he said breathlessly, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk with obvious relief.
"Apoplexy I fear, I work too hard, but my physician and that tiresome wizard, Madam Rotharrgier, assure me that I shall make a full recovery in a weak or so. Warned me off wine and veal and all sorts of things. Nonsense really. Now my friends, tell me you have good news which will comfort a sick man!"
@POOHEAD189
Instead of answering Cydric right away she reached down from the bed and touched him, finding his leg and working her way up his body until she gripped his hand. It seemed big and rough compared to hers and it was a comforting sensation.
"You were the one who saved me as I remember it," she said softly a ghost of a smile playing across her face. There had been alot of horror these past few weeks and it seemed a life time since they had fled the court in Ostland. For all the peril and terror though there had been good times. Cydric laughing at her impression of an Imperial accent, watching Ivan dance drunkenly on the deck of the Pride. Most of her life Camilla had been, and had thought of herself as a commodity, something that had value because it was valued by others. It was strange to think that someone though she had value just for being herself. Well in so much as pretending to be a Brettonian Exile could be considered being herself.
She tried to find some frame of reference to express the thought but for some reason it seemed incredibley funny. Against her will she snorted out a little giggle, which rapidly became a laugh. A moment later Cydric joined in with her and they were both laughing uproariously at they knew not what. The both laughed until their throats were hoarse and their eyes ran with tears. When she finally fell asleep she was still gripping the Imperial's hand.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When they awoke in the morning they left the Boar's head quickly. The usual breakfast crowd was gathering but it was a somber group, regulars mourning the loss of Bella, telling stories of her flashing eyes and acid tongue. With no stomach for such talk they made instead for a local chophouse where Camilla hungrily consumed fried ham, an egg and something that Cydric identified as black pudding but informed her she probably would be happier not to know the contents of. She took him at his word.
After that it was on to shopping and Camilla was reminded why it was much better to have rich men pay for your dresses rather than buying them yourself. After trying on a half dozen of what she was assured was the 'latest style form Altdorf', or 'all the rage in Marienburg, she settled on a tight blue velvet gown of Brettonian design with a long slit down the side of the skirt down the side of the leg, hoping that if she needed to run away it would be more convenient than the buskined monstrosities that the Tsarina of Kislev's court was supposed to favor. It matched well with her hair sapphire pendant and tiara she had purchased the day before. She also selected a silver buckled weapons belt of black leather, which the tailor insisted was completely inappropriate for a woman, for the purpose of bringing her rapier with her. This accomplished, she paid approximately a Bretonnian Dukes ransom and left the store.
Cydric was easier to shop for. Mostly by virtue of clearly not being as interested in the process as she was. He allowed her to pick out a grey and white silk shirt with very slight pleats around the shoulders and upper arms, black trousers of fine wool and black boots with polished brass buckles that had been buffed to a high sheen. They completed the ensemble with a curaiss of half plate which buckled over the whole affair. Cydric was dismissive of it as useful armor, clearly having been designed for pistoleers, but it shown and was impressed with a simple Imperial eagle, spreading its wings wide across the front of the piece. The eagle was also picked out in brass and Camilla deemed it showy enough while maintaining an appropriately Marshall theme. He drew his line in the sand about the puffed and tasseled hat she suggested and Camilla graciously allowed such a minor act of rebellion. He also selected a white leather weapons belt with a gold buckle shaped into the howling wolf of Ulric, about which the storekeeper made no comment, to Camilla's slight annoyance. The whole ensemble cost less than a third what hers had, despite containing a literal piece of armor.
Thus appareled they packed the finery away in paper satchels and headed for the palace. Their Wolf tokens and their invitations to the ball sufficed to get them passed the guards and into the palace where a fussy servant showed them to the Chamberlain's office. It was a neat place, with a few maps of the province and a few of the city as well as large comfortable seats. The dark wooden desk in the center was a notable exception as it was piled high with parchments on dozens of topics. The old man only kept them waiting a few minutes.
The man that arrived was much changed from the ruddy and energetic man whom had greeted them a few days prior. He moved with a pronounced limp and his face was grey and drawn. His robes of office seemed to hang somewhat limply around him.
"Ah my friends, I appologise for not meeting you yesterday," he said breathlessly, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk with obvious relief.
"Apoplexy I fear, I work too hard, but my physician and that tiresome wizard, Madam Rotharrgier, assure me that I shall make a full recovery in a weak or so. Warned me off wine and veal and all sorts of things. Nonsense really. Now my friends, tell me you have good news which will comfort a sick man!"
@POOHEAD189
