Artistic License

Writers: Miriah
Date Posted: 16th August 2014

Characters: Yriadha, Yarmel, Arnolt
Description: Yriadha's attention is brought to something both artistic and dreadful.
Location: Sunstone Seahold
Date: month 8, day 15 of Turn 7
Notes: Mentioned: Bryvin

Yriadha

Striding through the Hold proper in an inspection, Yriadha spoke to
the girl beside her in quiet, but firm tones. The girl scribbled
furiously as Yriadha moved from room to room, wiping at shelves with
her fingers or noting dirt in the corners. She did so every sevenday,
inspecting the word of the hold's staff and there was not a single
time that she hadn't found something amiss. Even the smallest
cupboards were not spared her critical eye, and since Lord Bryvin had
become Lord Holder, Yriadha had become even more strict about
cleanliness. Considering her close ties to Lord Morin, her abrupt
loyalty to the new Lord brought raised brows but no questions.

It was during the inspection of one of the many storage rooms that a
young maid came rushing towards her, breath panting. "Headwoman.
There's an incident at the dock. I think you should come intervene."

Yriadha's brows snapped down. "What is going on?"

"'Tis your eldest, m'lady." The girl was flushed.

Putting aside her hides, Yriadha flew out of the room and out of the
Hall, headed towards the dock area. She didn't run, but her step
lengthened and her face became taut with concern as she hurried down
the steps towards where she was bid. The girl kept difficult pace
beside her. "Has my son been injured?" Her voice was clipped.

"No, not at all, Headwoman. But..." The girl nearly tripped over her
skirts trying to keep up with Yriadha's determined stride.

"But what, girl? Spit it out."

"There's been an incident and he's...he's not well, Headwoman."

Frustrated, Yriadha increased her pace. "Can you not say exactly what
is the matter? I..." Her voice trailed off at the appearance of the
crowd, ringing a red faced Yarmel.

"Who did it?!" Yarmel's entire body was trembling with barely
suppressed rage. He eyed the crowd with a clenched fist, becoming more
infuriated at the sly smiles and choked, shocked laughter. Yriadha
tried to push through the crowd but they were paying little attention
to her. Yarmel continued to berate the crowd. "I want to know
immediately who has done this!" A small plump woman pushed through and
grabbed Yarmel's arm, her face pale and pleading as she tried to quiet
him, but he shook her off, flinging her away and onto the ground. "Who
_did_ this?!"

"Yarmel!" Yriadha's voice cracked like a whip and the crowd parted
immediately to allow the Headwoman through. Yarmel spun to face her,
hands clenched into fists, but made no motion to still her approach.
Yriadha strode right up to him, skirts lifted in clenched hands to
avoid stepping in mud; the exposed slim ankles and calves did not in
the least detract from her authoritative appearance. "What is the
meaning of this display? Have you no shame?"

Her son's face purpled at the rebuke, and his hand thrust towards the
wall behind him, a wall that Yriadha had failed to notice before. Now
that she saw what he was pointing at, she couldn't see how she had
missed it. There, painted garishly on the wall was a roughly painted
figure, bent over in front of another painted man. Both were painted
to reveal that they were obviously naked and their appendages
were...unimpressive. What they were doing however, was what was
shocking. Yriadha's mouth dropped open as she looked over and saw her
son's name scrawled messily beside the bent figure with an arrow
pointed towards it. The standing man wore Guard Captain's knots.

Yriadha's face flamed immediately and she sputtered in shock. It only
took a moment before that shock shifted to her own carefully contained
fury. She whirled and pointed to two men. "You, and you. Scrub this
immediately." Her eyes narrowed as the men looked at each other. "That
was not a request." The men grumbled but nodded their heads. She
scanned the crowd, searching their faces. "Do any of you know who has
done this crime against Lord Bryvin's property?"
There was no answer and Yriadha drew herself up. "One mark to any who
bring me information on the matter. And I can assure you, let it be
known that the perpetrator will be brought before Lord Bryvin and
punished."

A small, grubby hand raised. "Headwoman? There's more too." It was a
small, shy voice and a young boy of about twelve stepped forward. With
large innocent eyes, he pointed to the side of another building, a
small storage shed was painted with sloppy, but readable words.
Yriadha stared. "Guard Yarmel sucks..." Her jaw snapped shut as
another picture glared right across from that one on a large
warehouse. It made her face pale immediately. Another picture with a
man standing, Yarmel's name painted under it, holding a small boy. The
boy had big tears running down his face and the painted Yarmel had a
larger than life curved line for where his mouth should be. The
implication was clear.

Yriadha hissed. "Yarmel, go home with your wife. Immediately." Her
eyes narrowed. "The rest of you. I don't care what you are supposed to
be doing right now. I want this cleaned at once. _Now_ on my orders."
She whirled on her feet to stalk towards the Hold, determined to speak
immediately to Bryvin. Yarmel allowed himself to be tugged home by
his wife, his face still purple with rage.

The men grumbled and began assembling cleaning supplies, but as they
gathered them, Arnott stepped back from where he had raised his hand.
He turned with a knowing smirk. **Fight tha', ya bastard.**

Last updated on the August 17th 2014

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