Giving Ground
Martin is somewhere in the steppes leading up towards the palace. He's not alone, of course. Tritons patrol overhead and various nobles make their way to and fro on a regular basis. The Regent is never truly alone. He's presently checking out one of the stone monuments with mild curiosity but otherwise unengaged.
After his rather engaging conversation with Miriam, Corwin had taken his leave for a short little bit, only to one more make his return back to the Palace Courtyard. He's clad in black shorts with silver stripes and there's a silver rose that hangs from a chain upon his neck. A simple black scabbard hangs from belt around his waist and as he moves into the courtyard, those green eyes of his shift about.
Martin looks up from the stone monument but the distance of things along the slope to the palace is such that he cannot recognize Corwin straight away, it has been a long time since he's seen him, too, after all. It takes time to actually get up to the palace through the steppes. He starts to move towards the main path, however to get a closer look.
Corwin doesn't seem to be any huge hurry, for his swim is a slow thing, enough so that he can let his gaze shift about the immediate area, perhaps remembering the last time that he was down here. There is a smirk upon his lips, lingering even as he shifts his attention the the path to the Palace and when he spots a figure making his way back down, there's a slight cant of his head as if that simple action will allow him to see across the distance that much easier. It doesn't, of course, and so he simply begins to swim a touch faster.
Martin smirks and shakes his head, "Times are changing, Uncle Corwin, ever since the Pattern was remade. Moire specifically left instruction for me to act as Regent, until her daughter becomes of age, of course." He looks almost relieved that his sentence isn't forever. Or maybe not. Hard to tell with him at times whether or not he truly wants to be in this position.
"Yes, well, it happens to be those very changing times that have seen me return to Rebma, Martin." Lifting his arms, Corwin settles them upon his chest, his gaze once more shifting about the immediate area before settling upon his nephew once again, "And since my daughter has been spoken of, it seems only fitting to carry on the conversation. With Moire unable to care for her, I have come to see her turned over to me, Nephew."
Even an obtuse person might realize there's a threat somewhere in those words. The very carefully veiled Or Else hangs in the waters like a promise of a red tide. Martin knows it. Anyone with half-a-brain would get it. This visit is a courtesy call. It is his chance to let things happen without a war starting. "I see." Martin responds with a nod, he does not agree nor disagree. "Would you be willing to exchange to soften ruffled ... fins? I have a situation here that requires...a male of superior birth to satisfy."
Even an obtuse person might realize there's a threat somewhere in those words. The very carefully veiled Or Else hangs in the waters like a promise of a red tide. Martin knows it. Anyone with half-a-brain would get it. This visit is a courtesy call. It is his chance to let things happen without a war starting. "I see." Martin responds with a nod, he does not agree nor disagree. "Would you be willing to exchange to soften ruffled ... fins? I have a situation here that requires...a male of superior birth to satisfy."
Corwin allows that smirk to hold to his lips, not verbalizing any actual threat, nor implying such things with any particular movement of his body. Instead, he simply cants his head a touch to the side and when Martin speaks, there's a low chuckle that begins to escape past his lips, "An exchange?" There's a consideration there a moment or two before he's continuing with, "And what is it that you would propose, Nephew, so that we soften these .. ruffled fins as you so put it."
Martin is keenly aware of eyes on them. There's no one close enough, or brave enough to listen in, just yet, but eyes are on the pair. "A particular Rebman House, House Ygrayne has suffered much in recent times. Their reputation and standing is at stake and given their power, I am naturally inclined to appease them. I am seeking a noble in a position of power to marry one of theirs to. If you can exchange one of yours we might be able to form a tie between Banyan and Rebma. House Ygrayne will be pleased to offer one of their ladies in the exchange. Your daughter, Princess Faiella, should know her father's realm, but you must also know she is highly regarded here. Indeed, I am quite fond of her. If there was a marital tie between Banyan and Rebma, the populous might be much more comfortable with her visiting you."
If Corwin is concerend about the eyes that might rest upon them, he certainly does seem to care. Instead, there's a flit of his eyes amongst the guards who linger and when Martin begins to speak, his gaze returns to his nephew, to listen and contemplate before finally offering, "Dear nephew, you have taken rather nicely to politics, it would seem." There's a slight deepening of that smirk before he's giving another nod of his head, "Very well, Martin, it shall be done. But, this poses another set of possibilities that we should perhaps speak about in a .. quieter setting."
Merrisol swims from the palace gates and follows the slope of the road down into the city public sector. Stand-Your-Ground stops being effective when the Regent personally invites the intruder into the palace. At that point, it's best to look at the bright side, an opportunity to go grab that whiskey.
Ryika chats with a messenger, passing along a message and a few coins to ensure delivery before she nods to said messenger and watches him head off. She looks, truth be told, just ever so faintly off as she turns to head for the grotto.
Merrisol keeps low, sandals almost dragging through the seabed as he swim-drifts along, heading for the same watering hole. A ragged scrap of seaweed tumbles and cartwheels across the promenade, crossing his path, and sticking somewhat inexplicably to his leg. He ignores it, for up ahead he spies Ryika, and inclines his head to facilitate the call-out. "Ryika - good evening. How.. have you been?" he adds as he gets close enough to make out her expression.
Ryika turns at the call out of her name and lifts a hand to wave to Merri. "Merri, good evening." She offers him a bright smile, masking any lingering off kilterness. "I'm well enough, all in all. How're you?" She turns a little as a messenger returns from whence the other went, a quirk of her brow at the swift reply. "And apparently my desire for a drink is to go unfilled a little while longer, as I head to the palace instead."
"The palace.." Merrisol stops short, his own smile, while not as determinedly chipper, fades off. "Is it the Regent?" he inquires, before he can think better of snooping.
"Hmmm." Ryika nods as she turns to head that direction. "Yes. I'm surprised you're not there, I don't often see the Regent without you nearby."
Merrisol turns slowly, gazing after her with some perplexity joining the concern. What an odd thing to say.
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Gossip BVW: Mon Jan 20 20:16:22 2014 by Martin (public)
GL-Rebma: intensity murmur, trace cost 1, expires 27 Jan
Title: Princess Protection Program
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Big news in Rebma rocks the city. Lady Ryika Ygrayne has been tasked with the role of escorting Princess Faiella to stay with her father in Banyan. For a very long time Moire had been trying to get Corwin to take an interest in his daughter, that much is known. The popular reason going around is for protection purposes given the number of reasons someone would want to kill her. Another reason is that Moire is not waking up from her coma any time soon and she should be with her father and learn her heritage to be a proper future Queen. In any case, it's imminent. The Princess will be departing with her father and Lady Ryika and some handmaidens in only a few days from now.
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Gossip BW0: Tue Jan 21 15:20:00 2014 by Merrisol (public)
GL-Rebma: intensity murmur, trace cost 1, expires 28 Jan
Title: And What of the Washed Masses?
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Around this time last year, the Lord Marshal was making radical changes that had the elder Rebman population harrumphing discontentedly. His sudden step-up to Regent set off alarm and disapproval in the Clergy. Challenge after crisis after party, however, has seen Martin rise in esteem in the eyes of the common citizens of Rebma and denizens of the undersea.
What now are they to make of this latest decree, that the beloved, destiny-shrouded, and super cute Princess Faiella is to leave for Banyan? There are no soft murmurs over this, but rather confused chatter and indignant gargling. There are good people taking to the streets to discuss this, and Martin's name is spoken in the same sentences as the words: corruption, collusion, callousness. Yes, they can say such things.. for the Regent himself upheld The People's right to free speech not so long ago. The announcement of a special edition of Court comes just in time to quell a riot in its beginning stages. And so cooler heads prevail, and a number of representatives are elected - oh.. how democratic - to attend Court and voice concerns on behalf of a betrayed populace.
See you there.
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