Madene Trakand had had about enough of the band of miscreants in the woods west of her manor. What had begun as a niggling concern about vagrants finding shelter on her land had turned into highway robbery and an outright challenge to her authority. With a Trakand on the throne, the entire country looked to their House to set an example, and having her guests beset by bandits did them little favor beneath that scrutiny. Thus it was that Lady Madene and Lord Loran rode out with a company of Trakand soldiers one balmy spring day, equipped to sweep the forest and remove the problem once and for all.
They started on the north side, and for many hours they simply rode, encountering no one of any true threat. Liegemen were allowed to go about their business; bandits and poachers were escorted back to a clearing, where they would be held until the day’s work was complete. By the time the sun reached its zenith they had found little sign of the group the Lady knew lurked there. Odd. She ate her meal in the saddle, talking quietly with Loran as they rode.
In the early afternoon a scout noticed a change in the weather, and another reported odd flashes and the scent of smoke from the western edge of the wood. “I think we’ve found our bandits,” Madene commented. She pulled her gloves more securely onto her hands, and led the way toward the disturbance.
Lightning and fog brought the company to a standstill as they approached what had to be the outlaws’ camp. Madene watched in wide-eyed shock as white light raced out of the sky, the tension in the air causing her honey-gold locks to lift in a wide halo about her face. “The One Power,” Loran said calmly. Even as she loved her husband’s steadiness, the lady found herself infuriated by it.
It ended abruptly, the mist blowing away within a few breaths. The bandits who remained were fleeing (whether from the lightning or the armored group they were abruptly facing, who could tell), and a trio of men and women were crouched over a fourth on the ground. The men wore black, the women wore white; Madene’s brows drew together as she gestured, fist and fingers silently indicating how many soldiers would intercept the four and in what direction. Their hesitance was plain (and understandable), but they moved forward nonetheless. Good men, and brave.
Thankfully, no lightning was forthcoming. Although only one of the four was noticeably young, all four of them had an air of children caught with their fingers in the jam pot, and answers spilled out once they realized they were surrounded. Trainees from the Grey Tower, come here on a picnic? Absurdity. She had nearly dismissed them as liars and thieves themselves when the youngest -Nasrin?- let slip a name that changed things considerably. “Fiona!” Madene exclaimed despite herself. Six years since she had seen her daughter, and four since she had received word the recalcitrant little scamp had become a novice and upended fifteen years of careful political planning.
“Where is my daughter?” Loran asked quietly. He remained stoic, but a tic had begun to jump next to his eye, and his fingers had tightened on his reins. Their new guests did not know. With a frustrated sigh, Madene sent them to the back of the company, where the one who had fallen could be tended to. Then they set off again.
They made slower progress now, but they captured more outlaws. Most were hiding in abject terror of the One Power; a few of those babbled thanks for her protection as her men took them away. Blood and ashes, what a mess. Eventually the noise of a fight drew the group to where they wanted to be. Once again silent commands were issued and the soldiers split, circling around the clearing then falling inward.
It did not take the outlaws long to realize they faced attack from both sides, and within a breath of that realization, they threw their weapons down. Some of the Trakand soldiers gathered the Grey Tower folk into a small group, but the Lady had eyes for only one - a tiny woman with golden hair who was clearly unaware of who led the group. Nor did the girl get a chance before her father’s hand dropped out of the heavens to lift her clean off the ground by the back of her dress.
“Fiona, stop!” That shrill warning belonged to a woman even tinier than Fiona, with a bird nearly as large as she was on her arm. Whatever she was warning the other not to do, she must have succeeded, because Fiona relaxed, head twisting up to see who held her.
“...Father?” Horrified embarrassment colored the young woman’s clear voice. She struggled against Loran’s grip for a moment, then gave up, looking around frantically. “Mother! Please let us go. We need to get back to the Tower before Velanya Sedai begins to worry. We just wanted a moment to relax away from the Aes Sedai and-” You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Madene thought with exasperated amusement as her daughter rattled on.
“I assume whatever brought you here can also take you back?” She asked once Fiona had slowed enough for her to speak.
“I can Travel.” The man who spoke had a military bearing and a silver sword pin on his collar. Madene frowned as she looked him over. “I will take us back, I just need a moment to get to know the land.”
Madene arched an eyebrow, but nodded. “Very well. You will not go alone, however.” She glanced at her husband thoughtfully. “Lord Loran will return with you to ensure this...Velanya Sedai...understands correctly what has happened here.” The man clearly understood why she was giving the command, clearly did not like it, and just as clearly knew he could not object. Fiona’s mouth opened and closed several times, but she wisely said nothing.
Plans made, they settled down in somewhat awkward silence to wait for the man -Alric, she thought he had said his name was- to do whatever it was he needed to do.
OOC: Since pretty much everyone involved in this thread has now moved well beyond, and everyone has written more than enough to qualify for a point or two in whatever it is they’re seeking, I decided to just wrap it up and call it a day. You’re welcome to keep writing if you like/need to, but otherwise you can safely assume Alric takes them home, Loran keeps them honest, and Velanya/Jhanic distribute penance as necessary. They started on the north side, and for many hours they simply rode, encountering no one of any true threat. Liegemen were allowed to go about their business; bandits and poachers were escorted back to a clearing, where they would be held until the day’s work was complete. By the time the sun reached its zenith they had found little sign of the group the Lady knew lurked there. Odd. She ate her meal in the saddle, talking quietly with Loran as they rode.
In the early afternoon a scout noticed a change in the weather, and another reported odd flashes and the scent of smoke from the western edge of the wood. “I think we’ve found our bandits,” Madene commented. She pulled her gloves more securely onto her hands, and led the way toward the disturbance.
Lightning and fog brought the company to a standstill as they approached what had to be the outlaws’ camp. Madene watched in wide-eyed shock as white light raced out of the sky, the tension in the air causing her honey-gold locks to lift in a wide halo about her face. “The One Power,” Loran said calmly. Even as she loved her husband’s steadiness, the lady found herself infuriated by it.
It ended abruptly, the mist blowing away within a few breaths. The bandits who remained were fleeing (whether from the lightning or the armored group they were abruptly facing, who could tell), and a trio of men and women were crouched over a fourth on the ground. The men wore black, the women wore white; Madene’s brows drew together as she gestured, fist and fingers silently indicating how many soldiers would intercept the four and in what direction. Their hesitance was plain (and understandable), but they moved forward nonetheless. Good men, and brave.
Thankfully, no lightning was forthcoming. Although only one of the four was noticeably young, all four of them had an air of children caught with their fingers in the jam pot, and answers spilled out once they realized they were surrounded. Trainees from the Grey Tower, come here on a picnic? Absurdity. She had nearly dismissed them as liars and thieves themselves when the youngest -Nasrin?- let slip a name that changed things considerably. “Fiona!” Madene exclaimed despite herself. Six years since she had seen her daughter, and four since she had received word the recalcitrant little scamp had become a novice and upended fifteen years of careful political planning.
“Where is my daughter?” Loran asked quietly. He remained stoic, but a tic had begun to jump next to his eye, and his fingers had tightened on his reins. Their new guests did not know. With a frustrated sigh, Madene sent them to the back of the company, where the one who had fallen could be tended to. Then they set off again.
They made slower progress now, but they captured more outlaws. Most were hiding in abject terror of the One Power; a few of those babbled thanks for her protection as her men took them away. Blood and ashes, what a mess. Eventually the noise of a fight drew the group to where they wanted to be. Once again silent commands were issued and the soldiers split, circling around the clearing then falling inward.
It did not take the outlaws long to realize they faced attack from both sides, and within a breath of that realization, they threw their weapons down. Some of the Trakand soldiers gathered the Grey Tower folk into a small group, but the Lady had eyes for only one - a tiny woman with golden hair who was clearly unaware of who led the group. Nor did the girl get a chance before her father’s hand dropped out of the heavens to lift her clean off the ground by the back of her dress.
“Fiona, stop!” That shrill warning belonged to a woman even tinier than Fiona, with a bird nearly as large as she was on her arm. Whatever she was warning the other not to do, she must have succeeded, because Fiona relaxed, head twisting up to see who held her.
“...Father?” Horrified embarrassment colored the young woman’s clear voice. She struggled against Loran’s grip for a moment, then gave up, looking around frantically. “Mother! Please let us go. We need to get back to the Tower before Velanya Sedai begins to worry. We just wanted a moment to relax away from the Aes Sedai and-” You haven’t changed a bit, have you? Madene thought with exasperated amusement as her daughter rattled on.
“I assume whatever brought you here can also take you back?” She asked once Fiona had slowed enough for her to speak.
“I can Travel.” The man who spoke had a military bearing and a silver sword pin on his collar. Madene frowned as she looked him over. “I will take us back, I just need a moment to get to know the land.”
Madene arched an eyebrow, but nodded. “Very well. You will not go alone, however.” She glanced at her husband thoughtfully. “Lord Loran will return with you to ensure this...Velanya Sedai...understands correctly what has happened here.” The man clearly understood why she was giving the command, clearly did not like it, and just as clearly knew he could not object. Fiona’s mouth opened and closed several times, but she wisely said nothing.
Plans made, they settled down in somewhat awkward silence to wait for the man -Alric, she thought he had said his name was- to do whatever it was he needed to do.
^_^
