Post by The Stranger on Apr 5, 2008 18:04:06 GMT -5
Tristeza had found even the most menial of her courtly chores a hassle in the weeks after she delivered her child--indeed for three days or slightly more, she did not move from her bed, and spent the inturluding time growing ever fonder of her new-born child, though she was still sick with grief cause by the passing of her late husband, and sick with exhaustion from the labor, and the endless duties that both preceeded and followed it.
On the fourth day which followed Horas Martell's successful delivery, Tristeza forced herself from her bed, and placed an extended guard before her chambers, leaving the child with Kardaine Ladybight and Marcella Sands (who she had called home to her from the villiage in which she had been living upon the delivery of her child. Marcella was of an age to be a mother, but was not, and Tristeza found comfort in the fact that a true friend would watch over her child; a friend who would die before she would let the child face harm). With this duo within her chambers and a large military guard at its entrance, she went with less hardship away from her child for the first time ever.
She journeyed to the cell of a man called Oscielo, who had been caught spying her brother and her Master of Navy at a local inn. He claimed to be a free agent--servant to no Lord, but a greedy man who knew the value of information to the enemies of great lords who exchanged such knowledge in conversation. An entrepeneur.
Tristeza arrived at his cell in a darker mood than when she had left--she had forgotten her own state of mental solitude before her child had been born. In his precense, her heart was lifted, and her mind filled with the light of his youth and innocence; but without him, her spirits sunk back into the sickly depths in which they had wallowed during the final weeks of her pregnancy. She felt a sense of hopelessness, and anger besiege her as she walked into the mans cell, accompanied only by Timm Vikary, who stood near the door as she took a seat near the accused traitor.
"You know what charges stand against you." she stated hollowly to the thin sinewy man beside her.
"Aye." he said in a gruff voice, eying her with great distaste.
"Same as are held against you, as it seems. Accused of trechery--of treason."
Tristeza looked up at the man from the scroll from which she had been reading--it detailed his arrest and the significant comments he had made since.
"I am accused of betraying a crown which does not rule me--you are accused of betraying Dorne. You are a dornishman, if I judge you correctly," she stated, surveying the man's dark skin, and thinning black hair, "I am the sovereign of Dorne, and I will not tolerate the betrayal of a people whose will I am carrying out." she told him fiercely, her indifference suddenly spiked with hostility. She was a favorite of the Dornish people as a whole--her charisma, charm and good-will had earned their trust, and her declaration of independence from the north had won their full favor; though some perpetual dissenters still opposed her.
"Ain't carrying out my will," he growled with a nasty grimace on his face, and his eyes spoke of vaguely of some distant madness which crept silently into them, slowly at first, and then wildly. "My son is in the army, bitch. He's like to die on your behalf!"
Tristeza narrowed her eyes angrily at the man; "I want you to know that you are in no position to ask for an explanation from me. But since you are so interested, let me tell you; this war is a war of the Dornish people, and the Dornish court. I am your representative; I am acting based on the fact that you want me to. Have you asked your son how he feels about this war? I would guess he supports it, or else he would defect. It is much easier to defect, than to spy on high Lords, if one wants to be charged with treason."
The old man eyed her angrily.
"Oscielo. You are have not once denied the charges against you, but have rather reinforced them at every turn. I regret to inform you that you that I have found you guilty, and that the punishment for treason is de--"
as she began her final words to the condemned traitor, and even as she had begun to rise from her chair, the soldier's father lept towards her from his seat. She did not fall, for she managed to move herself nearly completely out of the way, but he caught her arm heavily, and shoved her brutally into the nearest wall. Timm, who had been watching from the door, which was on the far wall, had leapt into action, but was not near enough to save her from the jagged wooden stake the man pulled from beneath his shirt--it looked like it had been sawed off of some piece of furniture, though she could not tell how.
The wood cut into her arm as she forced her hand around it to drive it away, simultaneously taking from her left hip, one of her twin daggers. She sliced the man's hand to force the stake out of it, reversed its direction in her hand, and pulled it back so that it stuck him in the gut on its way back. As she felt it force two ribs apart, she was sprayed with blood as Timm took his head off from behind.
Result: Tristeza advances towards Grandmaster Daggerwork.
On the fourth day which followed Horas Martell's successful delivery, Tristeza forced herself from her bed, and placed an extended guard before her chambers, leaving the child with Kardaine Ladybight and Marcella Sands (who she had called home to her from the villiage in which she had been living upon the delivery of her child. Marcella was of an age to be a mother, but was not, and Tristeza found comfort in the fact that a true friend would watch over her child; a friend who would die before she would let the child face harm). With this duo within her chambers and a large military guard at its entrance, she went with less hardship away from her child for the first time ever.
She journeyed to the cell of a man called Oscielo, who had been caught spying her brother and her Master of Navy at a local inn. He claimed to be a free agent--servant to no Lord, but a greedy man who knew the value of information to the enemies of great lords who exchanged such knowledge in conversation. An entrepeneur.
Tristeza arrived at his cell in a darker mood than when she had left--she had forgotten her own state of mental solitude before her child had been born. In his precense, her heart was lifted, and her mind filled with the light of his youth and innocence; but without him, her spirits sunk back into the sickly depths in which they had wallowed during the final weeks of her pregnancy. She felt a sense of hopelessness, and anger besiege her as she walked into the mans cell, accompanied only by Timm Vikary, who stood near the door as she took a seat near the accused traitor.
"You know what charges stand against you." she stated hollowly to the thin sinewy man beside her.
"Aye." he said in a gruff voice, eying her with great distaste.
"Same as are held against you, as it seems. Accused of trechery--of treason."
Tristeza looked up at the man from the scroll from which she had been reading--it detailed his arrest and the significant comments he had made since.
"I am accused of betraying a crown which does not rule me--you are accused of betraying Dorne. You are a dornishman, if I judge you correctly," she stated, surveying the man's dark skin, and thinning black hair, "I am the sovereign of Dorne, and I will not tolerate the betrayal of a people whose will I am carrying out." she told him fiercely, her indifference suddenly spiked with hostility. She was a favorite of the Dornish people as a whole--her charisma, charm and good-will had earned their trust, and her declaration of independence from the north had won their full favor; though some perpetual dissenters still opposed her.
"Ain't carrying out my will," he growled with a nasty grimace on his face, and his eyes spoke of vaguely of some distant madness which crept silently into them, slowly at first, and then wildly. "My son is in the army, bitch. He's like to die on your behalf!"
Tristeza narrowed her eyes angrily at the man; "I want you to know that you are in no position to ask for an explanation from me. But since you are so interested, let me tell you; this war is a war of the Dornish people, and the Dornish court. I am your representative; I am acting based on the fact that you want me to. Have you asked your son how he feels about this war? I would guess he supports it, or else he would defect. It is much easier to defect, than to spy on high Lords, if one wants to be charged with treason."
The old man eyed her angrily.
"Oscielo. You are have not once denied the charges against you, but have rather reinforced them at every turn. I regret to inform you that you that I have found you guilty, and that the punishment for treason is de--"
as she began her final words to the condemned traitor, and even as she had begun to rise from her chair, the soldier's father lept towards her from his seat. She did not fall, for she managed to move herself nearly completely out of the way, but he caught her arm heavily, and shoved her brutally into the nearest wall. Timm, who had been watching from the door, which was on the far wall, had leapt into action, but was not near enough to save her from the jagged wooden stake the man pulled from beneath his shirt--it looked like it had been sawed off of some piece of furniture, though she could not tell how.
The wood cut into her arm as she forced her hand around it to drive it away, simultaneously taking from her left hip, one of her twin daggers. She sliced the man's hand to force the stake out of it, reversed its direction in her hand, and pulled it back so that it stuck him in the gut on its way back. As she felt it force two ribs apart, she was sprayed with blood as Timm took his head off from behind.
Result: Tristeza advances towards Grandmaster Daggerwork.