CitrusArms — Roleplayer Guild

Lord Drake & Captain Stratya

Flashback

Time: Afternoon of the 27th
Mentions: Ariella [@tpartiwithzombi]

Drake sat at the dining table, alone with his late brunch. He enjoyed a light meal of triscuits and freshly made jam with a side of apple cider that had been pressed only a few days ago - a luxury only a family of his status could enjoy with such regularity. He took some time to think over his day, what needed to be done, and what meetings had to be made. That was when a sudden thought had crossed his mind. ”Sebastian.” Drake said plainly.

The young help had sprung up from their neutral stance and quickly walked to Drake’s side with proper posture. “Yes milord?” With a dismissive hand wave, Drake grinned and replied. ”At ease, lad. You aren’t even 5 years younger than me, yet you treat me like a commanding officer.” The pair shared a light chuckle. ”Would you be troubled if I asked for you to summon Guard Captain Durmand to the estate? I wish to have a word with them about their time with Ariella, if they are curious as to the nature of the summons. You may take my carriage…and a triscuit for your trouble!” He smirked and scooped up some more of his special jam before handing the treat to Sebastian.

The enthusiastic servant swiped up the triscuit, inhaled it in one gulp while Drake watched wide-eyed. He then nodded and quickly walked off towards the front door to fetch a carriage and arrive at the most likely spot the Guard Captain would be at 10am on a weekday, the Barracks!

~

At the barracks, Captain Stratya Durmand would be found conversing with her lieutenant in soft voices, at her lieutenant’s desk in front of her office. A basket of muffins and cinnamon rolls, all glazed lighty with fruity icing, sat on the desk, as well. At the approach of someone not native to the barracks, Stratya glanced over before nodding to her lieutenant, ”aah, I’ll leave t’ rresearch o’ prrecautions tae you. I c’n put ye in touch, if y’ need.” She motioned with her head and the lieutenant saluted, locking a drawer in the desk before leaving. The captain then turned to the.. butler. A butler? ”Hail, wha’ c’n I do ya ferr?”

Sebastian was, for the briefest moment, stunned by the captain’s thick accent. A professional, however, nothing showed on the man’s face. “Captain Stratya Durmand?”

”Aye.”

“Sebastian, serving the Edwards. Captain Durmand, Lord Drake summons you. If you are not busy, the carriage awaits.”

”O-oh? Lorr’ Drrake, is i’?” Stratya hesitated. She’d gotten pretty drunk at his birthday party and heckled his mother rather publicly. She wasn’t sure what their relationship was like, internally. Family relations could be so dreadfully complicated. If he viewed his mother favorably, if he took issue with her behavior, it could be trouble. Was that what this was about?

“Yes, Lord Drake is curious of your time with Lady Ariella.”

Relief washed over her, ”ooh, is tha’ all? I ‘ardly think ‘at’s worth an ‘ole summons, but.. ah, aye. A’rrigh’.” She chuckled and picked up the basket of breads, then followed the butler out to the waiting carriage. A summons from someone besides the castle, huh? She settled into the carriage and, as they pulled away, offered Sebastian something from her basket, ”frresh t’is morrnin’, if y’r peckish.” A muffin was taken. The muffins were banana-strawberry, and this one was topped with a blueberry icing.

~

Every time she saw it, the grounds impressed her. Immaculately kept, tastefully elegant. She’d gotten used to all the grandeur by now, naturally, but she had no taste for it. Everything was so big, and it all took so much walking. She liked walking. Outside. Walking for another quarter mile inside of a building after a mile outside felt like a chore. Maybe she’d have to start taking a carriage more often.

The staff had been expecting her, and knew where to lead her for Drake’s summons. The cape of today’s armor bore the Caesonian colors, with the bright yellow on the interior.

Drake stood to meet the woman, whose armor and billowing cape allowed him a moment to rise just as she entered the room. ”I see my summons has made it to you in good health, Captain.” He offered the best attempt at a salute befitting Stratya’s rank as he approached her for a firm handshake. The young lord had welcoming grip and a steady hand, all while he pulled out a chair and gestured for her to take a seat if she so wished.

”I shan’t take up too much of your time - if you are famished I believe there is still some fresh jam and triscuits available if you are so inclined?” He paused and would rush Sebastian to fetch more brunch food should the Captain wish to partake. Drake continued, ”I hear you are tutoring my dear sister on the art of combat, particularly of a more melee variety. Care to share what sort of teachings you have covered thus far?” The man sat back into a chair nearby rather than the one at the head of the table he had been at earlier, his hands crossed together and fingers interlaced with baited interested in Stratya’s response.

The captain reflexively met his salute, not even really processing the motion before she realized his gesture. Yes, the next Duke should be so prepared for working with the military, just as the Crown Prince. She smiled, ”ye’ll struggle tae find me ill, Lor’Drrake.” Her handshake was quite strong, though she also knew how to mind her strength. When he pulled her chair for her, he hadn't been expecting it, but she'd been around the upper echelons long enough to recognize the gesture. She carefully positioned her shortsword to slip underneath the armrest. She could get used to this kind of treatment, but maybe she shouldn't.

Her, famished? The captain chuckled softly at the idea, ”y’ know, I've ‘eard t’ las’ perrson in a village tae go ‘ungry is t’ baker. In fact, y’ man thar caugh’ me wit’ a baske’.” When she came in, a servant had taken her basket for her, and now brought it in for the table between them. ”T’ Prrincess wan’ed tae lend an’ ‘and, t’is morrnin’. Said she'd like tae learn tae bake.” Cinnamon rolls and strawberry-banana muffins, with two icings, one red and one blue. Strawberry and blueberry, respectively.

”Ooh, y’ dearr sistah? Aye, aye, Lady Arriella seemed keen on me knives, yeh? So I asked, an’ she agrreed, she'd be in’errested in a bi’ o’ blade trrainin'.” The captain accepted a triscuit and spread a bit of the jam over it, the spreading knife nimble and effective in her hand, ”a’ prresen’, I'm having her accustom ‘erself tae t’ prresence of a weapon at ‘er side, an’ t’ use of a blade as a tool, ‘forre I go tryin’ tae teach ‘er swingin’ it ‘rround. We wen’ forragin’ durin’ t’ campin’ event, she used a lit’le daggerr o’ mine tae harrves’ some things.” She took a bite of the triscuit and gave a pleased hum, covering her mouth to offer a brief, ”good jam.”

He watched with mild amusement at the manner at which the Captain handled her newly acquired snack. He then nodded to her response. “Yes, the jam was freshly made this morning. I will let the chefs know they did exquisitely.” Drake rubbed his chin. “So she feels the need to arm herself does she? Does my sister feel threatened by something or is she simply expressing a curiosity?”

His wrist rolled his hand in circles as if to help come up with what to say “Your tutoring services….are they exclusive? Or perhaps this is simply a kind favor of a generous knight looking to help a lady in need?” The lord paused and took a brief sip of his morning coffee. “I do not mean to badger you with inane questions, but I am merely a concerned and curious elder brother.” He smiled and placed the cup back down on the table, each movement serene and calm while his words peacefully rumbled in his usual political tone of voice.

Stratya gave an approving, non-chalant nod at the mention of telling his chefs. She managed to swallow before feeling compelled to answer anything, the first question of his sister’s intent,  “t’is a curriosi’y of ‘errs, I think. She was in’erested in my arrms at yerr parr’y, but I,” she chuckled, ”dinnae think i’ wise tae le’ my blades off my perrson at th’ tyme. A sound judgement.”

When Drake asked her if her lessons were exclusive, the captain looked him over thoughtfully. Was he asking for lessons, himself? She put the rest of her first tristcuit in her mouth as he offered an apology before she could form an answer. he offered him a warm smile in return, “as any elderr sibling should, Lor’Drrake. Aye, ye should take care o’ yerr kin. They’rre some o’ t’ ones that c’n underrstand ye best, and you them. It’s best tae stick together.” The captain could still taste the triscuit in her mouth with the jam and felt compelled for another. She prepared another, but did not bite it yet, ”even though I’m ‘ere in Sorrian, I still take care o’ mine back in Verrmillion. Set my brrotherr up wit’ a prroperr meaderry. T’ same one that made those meads I gave ye ferr y’ birrthday, migh’ I add.”

Finally, she took a bite and gave another pleased hum, swallowing before she would gush more, ”ooh, if I hadn’t put icin’ on my muffin’s, I’d try some o’ t’ jam on one, instead. Tsk.” The rest would disappear into her mouth and she would, minding her manners, chew and swallow before she’d say anything more. Oh, right, ”werre ye lookin’ for sworrd lessons? My kynd favorr is nae exclusive. As it ‘appens, I think Lady Arriella could use a similarrly skilled sparrin’ parr’nerr. Someone tae imprrove alongsyde, aye?”

The lord nodded. “A partner would be ideal. I just hope she wouldn’t see it as me coddling her. She deserves the right to have her own space, hobbies, interests, and whatnot.” His fingers tapped on the polished wood table. “I think it would be wise to start with individual lessons and see how she would fare if we integrated such things together before throwing us together. Give her some agency in the matter.”

Drake recalled Stratya’s earlier comment about the mead and motioned for a nearby servant before whispering in their ear to fetch some for the table. “I also do recall you presenting me with that fabulous looking mead the other day. Would you care for a sip? Something savory to start the day and a thank you from me for travelling out of your way on a possibly busy morning?” Not too soon after the butler came by with two standard tall glasses and the container of mead. He poured the drink into Drake’s cup and then paced over to Stratya and motioned the jug as if to ask “Would you like some as well?”

Aah, Drake was no fool to training with others, then. Stratya gave a gentle chuckle, leaning forward slightly on the table, “t’is so, t’is so. Naturrally, t’ thing tae do is starr’ ye both off, firrst. T’ idea woul’ be tae ge’ ye sparrin’ each otherr, but t’is somethin’ tae apprroach first, aye.” All good signs from the son of Duke Edwards. With the duties expected of him when his time would come, the army woman was pleased that he seemed so sensible and reliable.

Stratya smirked playfully as Drake mentioned savory as a tasting note, leaning back then, “ye’ve not ‘ad mead ‘afore, then? T’is sweet. Like a wyne, but ‘oney, nae grrapes.” She considered whether she should join Drake for one drink. The rest of the day would be.. not dense, but intense. Ah, but with her tolerance for drink.. one regular pint of mead would be fine. She smiled to the servant and nodded, ”please.”

 “There's two varrie’ies I brrough’. This.. looks like t’ orriginal brrew,” Stratya lifted the glass to the light for a moment to see the color better, ”which is made frrom ‘oneys local ‘rround t’ village. He bought ‘oney frrom anotherr arrea tha’s got more berries ‘rround.”

He lifted the glass and let the drink sift around as he witnessed the semi-viscous fluid danced against the rim. With a smile and a nod he took the briefest of sips. The first thing to hit him was the sweetness - the apparent infusion of honey made the drink go down easy. Drake’s eyes lit up. “My my! What a lovely infusion! Such sweet savory flavor. I must applaud your brother for his craftsmanship.” He paused to take a deeper sip while still keeping a refined composure. “I look forward to trying both jars. I may even have to see about regularly purchasing some stock from your brother’s supply if he would graciously offer some here and there. But that is a talk for another time…”

Drake cleared his throat. “What sort of blade work is common these days? Swords? Daggers? Perhaps the occasional scimitar? Or even….a claymore? All of these are advanced tools for my novice self but I am intrigued at the prospect. How often does one find themselves needing to wield a blade in this city? I am no stranger to admit my life is a sheltered one - and I usually am carrying my reliable flintlock if I find myself in a shady part of town. Thankfully I have never needed to resort to it - but the curiosity does remain on how often your blade has seen action, Captain Durmand.”

Infusion? Oh dear. No, Sean had told her plenty about cheap imposters. She’d just taken a finishing bite of another of the triscuits that were individually no match for her appetite at any time, when she’d heard the word. Her chewing hesitated for a moment as she listened. She had to correct him somehow, her brother was too proud of his mead for that. “My blade ‘as, thankfully, been rather still, since my comin’ tae Sorrian. Tha’s t’ way i’ should be. Peace and prosperi’y, nae blood. Tha’s the way I like i’.” An idea struck her and she scoffed softly to herself, before offering, “y’ could always poin’ me at someone sellin’ fake mead. Grape wine infused wit’ ‘oney, aye? Prroper mead is ferrmen’ed ‘oney.”

Drake’s ignorance of mead was an important indicator to her, of mead’s lack of popularity, or at least, lack of upper echelon popularity. She wanted her brother to be successful, and his mead really was very good! Drake had said so himself. She had to make sure the man knew what was what, if she was going to introduce him to a beverage presently in a niche, with hope of its success. She couldn’t be pushy, either, though.

She chuckled, waving a hand dismissively in front of herself, “no, no, tha’d be too much. I migh’ rough ‘em up a bi’ ferr t’ insul’, but takin’ sword tae ‘em?” She paused for long enough to consider it, then gave her head a cheeky turn, “naaaae.”

 “Y’say ye’ve go’ a flintlock? Mm, aye, intimida’in’. ‘at’s one shot, though, aye? Then ye’ve got to go through the whole rrigamarrole of rreloadin’. I s’ppose y’ could clock a fella over t’ ‘ead wit’ t’ aft end, but ye’d be sore for rreach ‘gainst even a shorr’ sword afte’ yerr shot’s spen’.” She sipped at her mead, humming contentedly as she took a moment to moisten her mouth and throat from talking. “Swords nae rreload, o’ courrse.”

She swirled her glass of mead a moment, staring into it as though it would take her back through her memories, before taking another sip. Her last years in Encia were not pleasant. “‘at’s been a savin’ grrace ferr me, once or twice. In tigh’ corridorrs, like an alleyway, a gun has a grreat advan’age. Y’ ge’ funneled in. However, ye also only get tha’ one shot beforre yerr advan’age is spent. Against multiple armed opponents, yerr at a sore disadvan’age.”

She looked at Drake for a moment, thoughtful. If Lord Drake wanted to know about her experience, she would tell him, but first, “‘ow familiar arre ye wit’ t’ events leadin’ tae my knigh’in’? Or.. Barron Maximillian Lancaster, of Encia in Vermillion?”

There was much wisdom and experience in the battle tactics that Stratya spoke of. Drake could only imagine such events that a knight had to deal with on a regular basis, let alone in the midst of the chaos of a battle. “On the matter of my choice of primary weapon - you are correct in the current nature of most pistols. One shot is all she wrote - so it better be a good one.” He paused to tap his chest, and then motioned towards the Captain. “But armor is tricky and gets in the way.”

Drake leaned back in his chair and held up his hands, three fingers in each hand pointing up. “But technology is getting more advanced. There are now models circulating that can shoot up to six times before reloading. Imagine that.” His mind wandered to the new gun Cassius had gifted him. There could be something to be said about the carnage such a weapon could bring - but Drake hardly figured himself the type to let such intrusive thoughts wander for long. He would never resort to using a dangerous weapon so brashly. 

After straightening his posture, he rested one hand on his knee and rolled his other hand in a circle to motion towards Captain Durmand. “My apologies. I got distracted. I believe you were talking about the circumstances around you gaining your knighthood?”

 “Nae fuss.” The knight shook her head, “I do rremember ye go’ tha’ rrevolver f’rr ya birrthday, aye? Six shots, huh..” Her gaze lifted to a memory, she frowned as she considered a possibility, and closed her eyes with a sigh. “Fortuna’e tha’ I dinnae ‘ave to figh’ one in Encia.” Dread was kept at bay with a soft sip of mead, “Maximillian Lancaster was conducting.. experrimen's, trying tae..” another sip halted her for a moment, before she continued at a deliberate pace “crreate such circumstances tha’ ‘e could cause someone tae become violen’ on ‘is command.” Yes, that was enough. “Nasty work. He was doing qui’e well, in fact. With ‘is position, ‘e was able tae cover ‘is tracks qui’e well, ‘e was verry difficult tae pin down. ‘e would field test ‘is work and ‘ave eyes out, watchin’ ‘is resul’s. T’ guard was kept qui’e busy, as ye can imagine.”

 “Two years, it's been. I'd been folded into the army by then, with command of some men. I found Maximilian’s black market hub, brought the men under my command with me and shat’ered it. Nae more missin’ kids. Nae more changed or dead spouses. Maximilian Lancaster was a piece o’ work, but ‘e’s dead now.” She lifted her glass before downing a portion of her mead. Analise was still somewhere.

Drake took a melancholic look at Stratya and felt his frown deepen at the thought of all of those families ruined by a mad man’s delusions. “Were they drugged into some form of hypnotic and complacent state? What would bring a man to do such things…” Drake trailed off. He coughed and brought a fist to his mouth as if to mask the shudders that riddled through him as he thought of such barbaric things.

The captain shook her head, “I c’n only guess at ‘is mo’ivations.” From what Raynor had told her, perhaps Analise had something to do with it? The less said about his not exactly mundane methods, the better.

“It sounds like you did plenty of good work bringing him to justice, into the light of what should be and not what could be. Many people often get lost in the possibilities that they don’t stop to think ‘why’.” Another sip of the mead, and Drake placed the mug back down, his gaze casting downward in perplexive thought. But was his firearm any different than just the measured temperance of a man who wants to bring more power into the world? Oh gods the mead is making me philosophize again…

“And because of your heroic deeds, this led you to claiming your knightdom? Well I would say that’s well deserved in this case. The people need more reasons to have hope that the next day is coming for them.”

The future duke’s words lifted the knight’s thoughtful gaze from her glass to meet him, a soft smile slowly lifting the corners of her mouth, “I’m glad ta ‘ear ye think so.” If he really meant that, then she could look forward to his service as Duke in the future. “All tha’ ta say tha’ I’ve go’ plen’y of comba’  experrience under me belt. As well, m’ father trrained me starrtin’ as a wee lass. Mm, s’ppose tha’ migh’ve been more pleasan’ tae lead with..” Well, Drake’s an important guy. He should be informed about her professional history and capabilities. “I’ve known how tae ‘old a weapon f’rr a long time, and my trrainin’s nae wasted.”

Drake nodded, taking a bit more confidence in stride as she shared her credentials with him. “Sounds like I shall be in good hands.” He took the final swig of the mead and with a satisfying ‘clunk’ placed his glass back onto the table. There was a slight rosiness to his cheeks, but he kept himself rather composed as he rose and motioned to shake the Captain's hand.

“When can we start?”

A chuckle escaped her as she, too, rose, to meet his handshake,  “soon as yerr sober. Though, I’m jus’ a touch busy toda~ay, we’ll starr’ tomorrow morrnin’.”

Speaking of sober, those drinks from the party.. while it had been a mostly harmless stunt, Shezahde Farim had made a good point. Those drinks were too strong to go unwarned. Consent. “Aah, ‘forre I go. Those drrinks serrved two days ago were incrredible. I’d like tae learn t’ make ‘em, m’sen. You wouldn’t ‘appen tae know who?” Armed with a basket still full of baked goods, she’d have a little warm-up investigation before hitting the hospital, figure out how those strong drinks were made. She was willing to believe they were mundane, but she wasn’t sure. They were so very tasty and yet so very alcoholic. How did they do that?

Drake frowned slightly at the mention of the drinks from his birthday. The sight of him stumbling around like a buffoon were ones he hoped would fade away soon enough - and the slight blush on his cheeks that followed were a physical sign of that. “As embarrassing as it is to admit - The mixologists were informed not to make things that strong - I assume there was some foul play involved, and Mother has already launched several complaints and prompted a few investigations, but nothing solid has turned up. All we can assume is someone either made a huge mistake or simply does not like my family…” He hung on those final words for a moment - the notion of which only served to make him somber.

Stratya added under her breath, without really thinking, “or donnae like yer mother.” The coarse noise of a cleared throat barrelled through the instance before she followed with another thought to wash away her slip of the tongue, “well, maybe I'll have a bit o’ luck?” After she'd very publicly heckled the duchess, perhaps the staff would feel more trusting of her? Herself, she’d hate to work for the woman.

A gloved hand rubbed her chin as she considered the situation, a thoughtful hum escaping her before she wondered aloud, mostly just rhetoric, “I migh’ assume yerr mother did t’ plannin’, aye? I’d guess she delega’ed jus’ abou’ everrythin’ except th’ plannin’ itself, though. Er..” Stratya had to be careful of speaking too freely, if “is she home?”

Drake raised a brow at Stratya’s murmuring and chose to ignore it - for better or for worse. “She was a rather huge part in the planning, aye.” Drake found it odd he adopted the sudden slang of his conversational partner, but he chose to embrace it a little with a smirk. Delegation was her strong suit, as the Captain accurately surmised. However he shook his head at her next question. “She is not, I'm afraid. If you want you can ask the help, there are plenty of hands that had a part in that celebration. Surely someone saw something.”

The Captain offered a surprised, slight smile as she heard his “aye.” Someone was enjoying themselves. “Oh, nae? Rreyt, ‘at's fine. T’ staff migh’ be more rrelaxed, ‘a’ way. S’ppose I'll go poke my ‘ead arroun’, then. I’ll star’ wit’..” the captain tapped a finger to her lip for a moment as she considered options, “was t’ barrkeep a special hire, or is he in-’ouse? He’d probably know who was messin’ wit’ t’ alcohol, or who else would know who.”

Drake shook his head. “Pierre is one of our regular mixologists. Not necessarily part of the house staff but he’s our regular hire for events like this.” He leaned onto his hand, thinking about the implications. Drake began to think on every little interaction he and any of his other staff may have bad. Did he piss anyone off? Say something rude? Forget something important? He certainly hoped not.

“Pierre handled the open bar, the cocktails came from somewhere else. We had them prepared in the kitchen if memory serves. Maybe start with them - but paying Pierre a brief visit wouldn’t be a bad idea either.”

 “The kitchen staff, then. I’ll bother Pierre if I must.” Stratya studied the young man for a moment, noticing the troubled look in his eye. She sighed softly, kindly, smiling at the young man, “I’m surre t’is all just a rrude prrank made ah frrustrration. I nae carre tae imagine what it’s like tae werk fah herr, if tha’s ‘ow she trrea’s you, yer Lordship. An’ on y’ birrthday, no less. Tsk, shame on herr.”

 “Honestly, I’d just want t’ knowin’ o’ tha’ drrink’s makin’,” she caught herself easing back into her dialect, “I’m sure Sean could make use o’ tha’.”

Drake nodded, rising from his chair and offering the Captain a bow. “I give you my good graces to explore and investigate, within reason, at your discretion. For now I’m afraid I must part ways with you - I wish to let this drink settle a little before finishing my daily routines.” That was fancy talk for “file some paperwork and go for a stroll”, but Drake didn’t want to be rude. He pushed the chair aside and began his exit.

“We shall keep in touch, Captain Durmand.” Drake said with a smile.

A warm smile met his, as the Captain took to her feet, “Il’l brring some nice boffles fah t’ two ah ye. Pleasan’ skies, serr.”

Stratya was pleasantly surprised. Drake wasn’t as stuffy sober as she thought he might be. He’s certainly the picture of an upper crust nobleman, but pleasantly so. She was glad she got to have a nice sit-down with the man and get a glimpse at the future of Sorian nobility.

Now, about the staff…

Stratya made her way about the manor, taking a moment to explore and greet some of the staff while she figured out where the kitchen was. The knight did eventually make her way into the kitchen, where she found more staff, cleaning up after lunch. It was a shame she’d come in her armor, or she might have had the chance to blend in. Ah well. She stepped right in, “anybody rremembah them cocktails from couple ah days ago?”

“Ah, y’mean t’-”

“Who’s asking?” A sterner voice interrupted the light voice that spoke first.

 “Ooh, jus’ somebody that migh’ need such a strrong drrink tha’ tastes s’fine tae ever enjoy Rroyal Curd cheese, again.” That had been a ridiculous joke. Ridiculously funny.

A bit of cajoling and a joke or two at Victoria’s expense and Stratya got herself a recipe. She’d have to try it out, sometime.
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