Fantasy RPG Forum - Standing Trials

A smile creased his face as Oliver broke away from the crowd, the man running a clean hand through his hair. From conversation to conversation, Oliver had navigated the political landscape of the evening, dancing between dialogues like a dervish through her routine. And when he stopped spinning, he found himself plied with placations or congratulations, and none more so than Ser Erik Van Dross. The older knight had accompanied Jericho, and had spent the entire evening trying to get Oliver alone to discuss some alliance between his keep and the barony. Though not the baron yet, the older knight had correctly surmised Oliver's future intention to take over Bellesoir in the coming arc, hopefully. Plying him with questions and requests to offer aid of his bannermen in exchange for luxuries, Ser Erik used his large frame to block the smaller man into the corner. Shark-black eyes scanned behind him through the space between his arm and torso, and the smile widened as Oliver looked directly back into the man's face.

"Pardon me, Ser Erik. Write me when I've taken the chair, and we will discuss this." He excused himself, sliding by the man, quick as a fox. Passing behind Charlotte, a manicured hand quickly slipped out and brushed the shape of her ass, running along the curve. She turned her head, startled, but Oliver just grinned as he strode by, winking just as he exited the range of her peripherals. Sliding to the tables laden with good, Oliver plucked a piece of roasted goose from the bone and popped it into his mouth, spying Erik approaching him. Quickly, he turned and darted around the table, putting himself directly in line with Xander Andaris. Nodding to himself, Oliver started to approach the man, but was distracted by the fiery haired young man approaching him from the side. He stopped, turning to intercept the knight as he approached.

"My lord." Jericho greeted, pale eyes fiery. Tilting his head, Oliver regarded the man.

"Trouble, Ser Jericho?" Oliver asked, suddenly interested by the man. Jericho turned and regarded a man, drunkenly swinging his arms about, wine sloshing from the glass, which was impressive considering the minute amount left in the bowl of the glass. Such was the man's forceful gestures. The gentleman, a merchant from the Settlements... Cobb, Oliver thought, had obviously had too much to drink. Regarding him, Oliver sighed. He'd hoped to avoid someone making a scene, but had contingencies in place.

"I see. Offer to take Mister Cobb to one of the guest rooms to sleep it off. Water and a bit of the herbal remedy that Ambre made, as well. You're welcome to ask Gustauv or Lennard to make first contact, but please be there to assist if he refuses. If he becomes violent, eject him." Jericho nodded, and Oliver's black eyes shifted to stone grey. A sigh followed, but as he turned away from Jericho, his intended target was there, greeting him.

As Xander hailed him and closed the gap, he smiled and took the man's hand, shaking it firmly. Nodding at the suggestion of the drink, Oliver indicated towards a room off to the side, the study he often used to work... And that one time to make love to Charlotte.

"Of course, my lord. I've not seen you with a drink all night... By choice, or shall I speak with my staff about attentiveness?" He smiled, guessing it was the former. Bria and Genne were phenomenal at what they did, and Oliver trusted that they'd asked Lord Xander multiple times. Waving a finger at Bria, and indicating something without alcohol, she brought over a decanter of a light pink liquid, inundated with small pockets of air that floated to the surface.

"How about a raspberry sparkling water, my lord? My chef, Jirelle, learned the unique process in Argos... Or was it Ironridge? Lysoria? Somewhere over there," Oliver mused, offering the non-alcoholic drink to Xander. He led him to the room, opening the door and ushering the man in, disappearing for the moment with him. Once inside, Oliver led Xander to one of the overstuff chairs, sitting down opposite him with a glass of whisky. Shark-black eyes surveyed the man, the two sizing each other up in private, away from the distraction of betrothed and would-bes.

"I must thank you for the excuse to excuse myself, my lord." Oliver smiled, leaning back in the chair, relaxing.

Oliver smiled, graciously nodding his head as Xander commended him for what he was doing. Oliver knew that many of the duchies considered Venora at its weakest, and rightly so. The loss of Zvezdana and Theodore were tragic, and Alistair's exile was unfortunately poorly timed. Oliver understood that many of the families, especially those more concerned with the future political landscape of Rynmere, sensed the blood in the water, and Oliver wanted to ensure that they knew the weakness was only temporary. He quickly understood that Xander picked up on that, and was both commenting on that trial specifically, and Oliver's grander goal to strengthen Venora as a house.

"My thanks, Lord Xander. There has been quite the amount of political turmoil in the Kingdom as of late, and it's good to let everyone know that the Duchies are still very much interested in the betterment of that Kingdom. For one and all." Oliver's mouth curled into a small smile, and he took a sip of the whisky. He maintained a widespread demeanor, obviously comfortable in the setting.

"Think nothing of it, my lord. In truth, I've been quite busy myself. Planning this gala, playing catch-up with Bellesoir's finances. I will say, my lord, my mother and father were excellent party-throwers, but Seven help them if they couldn't keep track of the ledgers." He grinned, laughing at his parents' intentional lack of oversight. They had not bankrupted the barony, thankfully, but they hadn't done much for it financially either.

"I know you can sympathize, what with the running of Astedia falling to you so quickly. All goes well there, yes?" Oliver asked, genuinely interested. He truly believed that the duchies had to work together to ensure Rynmere's survival, and though he got the impression that Xander was using this discussion to size him up, Oliver tried to remain as open as he could. Within reason.

"Yes, I heard of Lady Celeste's pregnancy. Congratulations, my lord. I know the proper answer is a male heir, but between us men here, in private, are you hoping for a son or daughter? I wish for a daughter, myself." Of course, it was too early in their relationship for Oliver to bring up the thought of kids, but he'd always imagined himself having a daughter. A smile broke across his face again, one borne of hope and aspiration.

"Of course, the Lady Warrick and I have not been together long enough to discuss such matters yet. Nearly a season now, I suppose? Though, I will say that it happened rather unexpectedly and without being properly addressed, as such matters of the heart often are," he said, carefully constructing the words. If the roles were reversed, Oliver would have been inquiring to know if the joining of their houses would pose a threat later, and so too he assumed Xander was doing the same.

"But I can assure you, the passion and longevity are there. Fates willing, we will marry." Oliver said, realizing then that he truly meant it. It wasn't just a political alliance, but an alliance of their beings. Warmth spread through him.

"I suppose, my lord, we should address the glaring issue in the room. You were present, yes, during Alistair's trial? I wish for you to know that not all Venoras subscribe to such radical and illegal measures to affect change. Some of us may share the same ideologies, but with different methods. After all, you attract more flies with honey, yes?" But then again, they also flocked to shit.