Post by Deleted on Sept 20, 2015 20:30:55 GMT -5
It had taken time, but finally the meeting had been arranged. Caliph Qasim al-Khalid had spent much time sending messages back and forth with his old friend the Lord Marshal in order to make this happen and eventually, over the course of several letters terms had been reached and now the time had come.
The ruler of the Rohari arrived to the Chateau de Lavande atop his own horse, a fine mare with a coat that had been brushed to a glossy shine and with a strong escort in tow. Such was not a matter of distrust, it was a matter of appearances. He could have taken a carriage with but a token bodyguard but that was something he could not afford. He needed to show his strength, his boldness. He needed to display that he was attending on his own terms and not some dictated by a Wetlander, a woman no less. For he knew the purpose of this meeting if even his own kin did not. He knew he was to meet the Crown Princess, and beside she only one other soul knew of the whole plan and that one belonged to his old friend and foe, the Lord Marshal Jean-Luc Deveraux himself.
When he rode into the courtyard, announced by one of his heralds, Qasim dismounted and made for the entrance, as bold as ever. For this meeting, he had not dressed elaborately. Instead, he wore the subtly ornamented robe he favoured and his scimitar hung in its scabbard from a cleverly braided belt. To all outward eyes, he was there to meet with a fellow warrior and if the agreement they had reached was fully adhered to, there would be no one in attendance save the three of them. No servants, scribes or even bodyguards. This was to be as discreet an encounter as possible.
Upon entering the hall, the Caliph then stood and waited for the Lord Marshal to arrive and further escort him.
Nicolette Deveraux Jean-Luc Deveraux
The ruler of the Rohari arrived to the Chateau de Lavande atop his own horse, a fine mare with a coat that had been brushed to a glossy shine and with a strong escort in tow. Such was not a matter of distrust, it was a matter of appearances. He could have taken a carriage with but a token bodyguard but that was something he could not afford. He needed to show his strength, his boldness. He needed to display that he was attending on his own terms and not some dictated by a Wetlander, a woman no less. For he knew the purpose of this meeting if even his own kin did not. He knew he was to meet the Crown Princess, and beside she only one other soul knew of the whole plan and that one belonged to his old friend and foe, the Lord Marshal Jean-Luc Deveraux himself.
When he rode into the courtyard, announced by one of his heralds, Qasim dismounted and made for the entrance, as bold as ever. For this meeting, he had not dressed elaborately. Instead, he wore the subtly ornamented robe he favoured and his scimitar hung in its scabbard from a cleverly braided belt. To all outward eyes, he was there to meet with a fellow warrior and if the agreement they had reached was fully adhered to, there would be no one in attendance save the three of them. No servants, scribes or even bodyguards. This was to be as discreet an encounter as possible.
Upon entering the hall, the Caliph then stood and waited for the Lord Marshal to arrive and further escort him.
Nicolette Deveraux Jean-Luc Deveraux