Post by Nicholas Miller on Oct 27, 2015 23:44:14 GMT -5
For Sir Nicholas Miller, it had become easy to gauge Princess Mariette's mood. After all, ever since their misadventure in the woods between Vasile and Shelbourne he had been her primary bodyguard and spent a great deal of his time in her very close proximity. And should he have not learned to pick up on state of mind, he would have been a very poor guardian all right. And as of late, her sunny disposition and turned rather morose. He did not quite know why, but he did not expect she would confide in him. After all, despite their relationship that went further than mistress and retainer and charge and guardian, there were still vast gulfs between them. But on this morning, he had seen her smile. And not a courtly, polite and artificial one but a genuine one. Granted, it was not what he'd seen before and it seemed rusty from disuse, but it was there.
She had instructed Gabrielle to go to the markets to run some errands for her, and she had ordered the archer-knight to accompany her. Usually, such a task would be given to one of the lower-ranking members of the Royal Guard, to a man-at-arms. Not to a Claviger, let alone a member of the Royal Bodyguards. But then again, Mariette had ever been a smart one and she could not have failed to notice the friendship that had burgeoned between her newest handmaid and the archer. After all, they did spend much time talking when their duties allowed it and they did spend much time together when they were enjoying what free time they had.
And from Nick's perspective, any time he spent with Gabrielle was precious to him and while at first he'd been asked to be kind to her and to look after her there was no longer any sense of duty attached to that. He thoroughly enjoyed it and every moment he spent in the shy redhead's company made him wish for more. And there was also the fact that she had told them that once they would have seen to the items on the list, they were free to enjoy the markets themselves and take their time before returning to the castle.
Of course, their departure had not been immediate as Gabrielle needed to ready herself to leave the castle and Nick had to divest himself of much of his panoply. For a trip to the market such as this one, he would strip off his armour and leave his bow and arrows behind, instead wearing nothing but a simple canvas jerkin bearing the badge of the Royal Guard and the crossed keys of the Clavigers over his doublet as well as the arming belt bearing his kriegmesser and hunting knife to indicate his rank and position.
Much of what the princess had requested was not the sort of thing to be carried around the market and deliveries had been arranged and after visiting a few stalls, Nick found himself carrying a basket containing some smoked lamb sausage, a wedge of a rich, soft cheese, a half-loaf of fresh black bread and a jar of preserved peaches. In the other, he bore a jug of cider, fresh-pressed from early apples and cut with a little wine. All in all, a nice early lunch for Gabrielle and he. However, before they could reach the bench near a fountain they'd selected as a place to sit, the archer's elbow was jostled by a man who had not watched where he was going and the clay pitcher flew a little ways to shatter to the cobblestones, sending a hail of pottery shards towards the feet of a young, well-dressed dark-haired noblewoman and a spray of the sweet and fragrant liquid to wash at her feet and the hem of her dress. And Nick, silently cursing this ill-luck, slightly bowed and spoke with his deep peasant brogue that all of his time in close service to the royal court had not even come close to blunting. "My apologies, my lady. Are you all right?"
Maricela Sandoval Gabrielle Delacroix
She had instructed Gabrielle to go to the markets to run some errands for her, and she had ordered the archer-knight to accompany her. Usually, such a task would be given to one of the lower-ranking members of the Royal Guard, to a man-at-arms. Not to a Claviger, let alone a member of the Royal Bodyguards. But then again, Mariette had ever been a smart one and she could not have failed to notice the friendship that had burgeoned between her newest handmaid and the archer. After all, they did spend much time talking when their duties allowed it and they did spend much time together when they were enjoying what free time they had.
And from Nick's perspective, any time he spent with Gabrielle was precious to him and while at first he'd been asked to be kind to her and to look after her there was no longer any sense of duty attached to that. He thoroughly enjoyed it and every moment he spent in the shy redhead's company made him wish for more. And there was also the fact that she had told them that once they would have seen to the items on the list, they were free to enjoy the markets themselves and take their time before returning to the castle.
Of course, their departure had not been immediate as Gabrielle needed to ready herself to leave the castle and Nick had to divest himself of much of his panoply. For a trip to the market such as this one, he would strip off his armour and leave his bow and arrows behind, instead wearing nothing but a simple canvas jerkin bearing the badge of the Royal Guard and the crossed keys of the Clavigers over his doublet as well as the arming belt bearing his kriegmesser and hunting knife to indicate his rank and position.
Much of what the princess had requested was not the sort of thing to be carried around the market and deliveries had been arranged and after visiting a few stalls, Nick found himself carrying a basket containing some smoked lamb sausage, a wedge of a rich, soft cheese, a half-loaf of fresh black bread and a jar of preserved peaches. In the other, he bore a jug of cider, fresh-pressed from early apples and cut with a little wine. All in all, a nice early lunch for Gabrielle and he. However, before they could reach the bench near a fountain they'd selected as a place to sit, the archer's elbow was jostled by a man who had not watched where he was going and the clay pitcher flew a little ways to shatter to the cobblestones, sending a hail of pottery shards towards the feet of a young, well-dressed dark-haired noblewoman and a spray of the sweet and fragrant liquid to wash at her feet and the hem of her dress. And Nick, silently cursing this ill-luck, slightly bowed and spoke with his deep peasant brogue that all of his time in close service to the royal court had not even come close to blunting. "My apologies, my lady. Are you all right?"
Maricela Sandoval Gabrielle Delacroix
