[RPG] [Atamara] [Abington] Trust? 'Ill-conceived...'

[Kimberly Amthor]

OOC Note: I always tend to think noble/commander conversations are
among some of the most boring, useless reads ever (and I do
mean...EVER).  So I've never RP'd them extensively in the past...but
this exchange is actually used to portray an important shift in
Riamh's personal views...so, I was inspired to write a brief exchange
between her and her captain, Anton. :)

---

'Ill-conceived', was all Riamh could think as she sat outside the
command tent of Valorian Maverick in Tarkhog, elbows propped upon
knees, brow furrowed and eyes staring endlessly into the blazing
campfire.

Her scribe emerges from the tent with a single note. "Is this the
one?" He's obviously new.

Riamh reaches one hand to accept the letter as she props her head upon
the knuckles of the other, skimming, 'Lady Riamh, Know that, although
the Carelian claims upon Tarkhog...'

"Yes," she replies stoically and motions the scribe away. Riamh has
read the letter enough times to recognize it immediately. 'Too good to
be true,' she always thought...except, now, the thought had become
apparent fact. 'I should have known better when Gauihu made no public
statement...'

"Sore about it?" comes a familiar voice. Riamh's Captain, Anton,
stands behind her, two drinks in hand. He, too, has seen the letter
often enough to know Riamh's mind sans inquiry. People everywhere were
celebrating...except for his lady marshal.

Riamh can't find words to reply. After this fact becomes evident,
Anton offers Riamh one of the two drinks and takes a seat by her side.
He simply waits.

It soon becomes apparent that Riamh is not freely offering
conversation this evening, and he ventures, "Will you not bring it
before the king?"

"If he disapproved, he would have made a statement. It's not my place
to defy my own king..."

"Fie! You've defied many kings in your days, lady."

A grudgingly mumbled, "Where did that lead?" She sighs in the face of
rhetoric. "Besides...it would not have been allowed if it were not a
sound decision," Riamh takes a long draft, as if drinking away her
most recent lie to herself.

Captain Anton lets out a good-natured laugh in an attempt to lighten
the mood, "Like a few other 'sound' decisions, eh?"

Riamh is not the least bit amused. Anton sees this almost
immediately...and downs more ale to clear his conscience of the faux
pas.

"Does.. this mean you'll be leaving?" he asks tentatively.

Riamh answers ambiguously, "Why would I leave?" as she rises to her
feet, empties her drink on the fire and retires to her private tent.

Anton had detected a hint of bitterness in her departing tone. He
sighs and takes another long draft, finishing the drink in hand.
'Perhaps not in body, my lady' he silently muses, 'but you are already
gone in one respect...'