(514-06-11) Filling Positions
Summary: Robert holds open court for the filling of positions.
Date: 514-06-11
Related: Likely there will be a second log eventually.
robert seren rozenn bran leodwen idris llewelyn lysanor maelgwyn amalthea erylys lyonesse eirian arta cerys seraphina braelynn angharad quillian 

Great Hall
The center of focus is the Great Hall itself. Most furniture is removed from the main floor of the great hall, save the high lord's chairs, though the great chests lining this space can be glimpsed. The vassal knights of Earl Robert stay here over night. Glimpses of banners, armor, and weapons can be seen amongst their personal gear that isn't tucked into a chest. The Earl's own armor and banners lining the hall. The scent of old feasts mingled with whatever the knights were fed last night linger in the air, tinged with the scent of the old wood beams forming the supports of the aging castle.

Court clothes. They are far from Rozenn de Burcombe's preferred attire, but the woman is able to managenonetheless. The bliant is in supple cloth, dyed red throughout. Black edges the hems and the low, V-shaped neckline that dips to display the gathered undertunic beneath. Also upon hems can be found stitching in gold; especially on the long sleeves that drape so near to the ground as the woman walks. It is Burcombe, through and through, that she displays. But such is Court. With hair bound in a half-crown braid, brown locks cascading around shoulders, Rozenn looks every bit the maiden… save for the sword belted at her hip. Her privilege, as a Knight of the realm. The woman enters the Great Hall, surveying the space as she awaits her proper introduction.

The castle is open again and Earl Robert is in his hall. Not fully open court for legal proceedings for the county, it is open audience today, or it will be. He has just come in with the court scribe, Lady Seren de Woodford, and they two have made for his chair that sits slightly over the great hall itself. The gear of the household knights is aside and the environment is welcoming. There is some food set aside on a table nearby, not quit lunch yet for the household and visitors, but things may slowly trickle out from the kitchen.
A nod is given to Lady Seren by the Earl. "Assuming all goes well with our Embassy to Marlboro, I expect little trouble this summer truth be told." As if just a simple thing, something he may discuss more with Officers of Salsibury, but she is privy enough that he simply offers her that tidbit of information. Looking around at any gathered when he nears the chair, he offers a greeting, "Welcome, I hope we've had time to rest from the Tourney in Carlion. Summer isn't far off now, we may be busier in the months to come." Then he nods his head, and looks to Seren, seeing if she has any ready to come speak with him, those he might be expecting.

Cerys walks into the Great Hall following others. She is wearing a black dress. While initially looking like a heavy gown, this modest piece is actually made of layered light-weight linen fabrics allowing it to be much lighter than it originally appears. Floor-length, with generous wrist-length sleeves, and a tight, inch high collar the only parts of the body left exposed by this gown is the head, most of the neck, and the hands. A wide black sash-like belt surrounds the waist with silver adornments on the ends of the sash which feed into narrow, black belt straps joined by a wooden buckle.
A light chain hangs from the neck to a couple inches below the belt where it ends with a wooden trinket decorated in floral ornaments. The young womans brightly red hair are tried to be calmed and pulled back in a neat, tight, harsh bun. However, some of the red strands are sticking this way or that, giving some playfulness to the ginger.
Though, there are purses under her green eyes and more signs of tiredness in freckled features. Despite that, Cerys de Tisbury carries herself in grace, keeping her back straight and hands peacefully lowered to her sides. She finds a spot to settle in and wait for her proper introduction and a chance to speak.

Arta enters the great hall with Cerys. Arta is wearing a modest wool tunic to make Cerys' costume look perhaps a little more extravagant. She is here to help Cerys after all and perhaps save her once or twice during the proceedings if need be.

It's shaping up to be a long day of court and positions so Seren has already positioned her parchment and quill, ink pot in position… rather, her assistant had. The mission to Marlboro, she had been briefed on, even taken the notes for and stored them, she gives the Earl a warm smile as she walks with him to the chair where she will take a seat before the instruments of her trade, releasing the arm of Robert. Of course she has a list of people, and the first, "Sir Rozenn de Burcombe," she calls out to the knight, a smile given.

It had perhaps not been Angharad's intention to place herself in Court today, but travelling arrangements delayed, and with news that an audience was being given, she's donned her best wools and made her way there. Hair neatly pulled back from the edges of her face, it falls from a braided bun to the centre of her back, barely swinging as she walks gracefully in and finds herself a place from where she can observe the proceedings. Eyes bright and with a ready smile for anyone's attention she catches, she knots her hands behind her back and lifts herself onto the tips of her toes, looking past the shoulders of those in front of her so that she doesn't miss one iota of what's said — and to whom.

Braelynn slips into the hall quietly, and begins to move closer to the proceedings. She is dressed modestly, with a pale pink undertunic, and a charcoal grey overtunic. Her fingers, while stained with ink, have been scrubbed until they glow pink with irritated skin. She eyes the inhabitants of the hall warily, but a determined set to her mouth emerges as she awaits the perfect opportunity.

Rozenn checked her courtesy of 3, she rolled 16.

Dressed in the manner of a household knight, though perhaps not as armored per usual, Sir Quillian de Broughton, the Earl's Blackfish limps his way into where court is currently being held. Not quite a hundred percent, but clearly mending well. Hand rests on his sword, as the pale and wane knight takes up position where he can see and be seen.

Deep breath now. Battlefields are nothing to the Burcombe knight; the rush of action and the inability to spend too much time thinking. Overthinking is quite the danger for Rozenn and it shows once her name is called. She even stumbles just a slight measure on her approach towards the Earl. Yup, just your every day summoning by your liege lord turned into a near display of comedy by someone much more attuned to Knightly than Courtly matters. Once she finally reaches the dais proper, the woman is torn and caught between kneeling, as she might in armor, and a curtsey. Finally the latter is set upon, due to her current attire, but not before a sort of stumble-dance in place. "My lord," she greets, voice a touch warbly. "I bid answer to your summons, in regard to my interest in a position within your court." She had expected Sir Jaradan; not the Earl himself. It's perhaps a bit clear in her mien.

Being busy in preparation for the coming summer season, Lysanor finds herself in Sarum, tasked with stocking up the manor's supplies before summer fully hits. However, hearing word that the Earl was holding court with the opening of various positions there, she decides to add this to her list of things to-do for the day and send out a message of her interest. Thus she arrives when the court is in session, entering the grand hall with a quiet grace. Her small, slender form is draped in a light, comfortable wool. The undertunic she wears is white in color, the long sleeves clinging tightly to her arms and laced just at her wrists while the skirt of the garment billows more fully. It is, however, the tunic which she wears over this that is brilliant in color, an emerald green in hue, the ties at her side drawing in to cinch at he waist. Her thick auburn curls are gathered together into a fat braid which hangs over one of her shoulders. On her entrance, as she realizes that the session has already started, she politely joins the ranks of the audience, her gaze surveying the room when they find Seren, whom she offers a friendly smile to, a hint of excitement in her own eyes now.

Introduced and she presents herself, he watches the indecision play there for a moment, a slight shift. Half a turn to Lady Seren even as if to make a note of something, but he remains respectful himself. She commands his attention and it doesn't stray from Sir Rozenn de Burcombe. Where her mind ponders, he seems to answer for the moment. "Sir Rozenn, I have spoken with Sir Jaradan. If not for the matter of Sir Sior and the increase in recent raids by the Saxons, he would of found you himself." Explained for the moment at least. "You did well in the tourney, showing leadership amongst your peers. We have little showing from Burcombe in the castle as well, we believe you would make a good fit to join the Guardsmen of Castle Sarum. To train under Sir Jaradan's Commander, Sir Mawrth." If she'd studied, she may understand the man is old and probably to be replaced, to be trained into the position. "If you are willing to accept?"

Sarum Castle all but heaves with humanity, so another addition to this particular garden may go scarcely noticed save by the guards and the servants. For any providing a murmured direction, the younger Burcombe bestows a warm smile and a word of gratitude, then proceeds upon her way. All evidence of travel scrubbed away, she steps inside the great hall in time to witness her kinswoman facing down a noble monster more frightening than any Saracen or Frankish knight: being courtly. her hand rises to her lips and her sleeve conceals the sunny blossoming of a smile upon her bright countenance. The two of them are clearly related, though Rozenn has the benefit of an active lifestyle on the field and decorum renders Eirian a little softer and elegant. Upon giving a slight curtsey out of habit in the Earl's direction, she starts the long procession towards Seren. The scribe stands out well enough, and that serene warmth of her countenance does not dissipate in the least for the smaller woman. She lingers back until any formed queue disperses to their proper places before attempting to speak, mindful of the faces about her. Quillian warrants a deep dip of her head, if he looks her way.

Too long has it been since the Lioness of Cholderton stepped foot in these hallowed halls, preferring a bed of foliage and rocks most nights. When she enters in combat gear - steel-gray haubergeon of chain mesh over her torso, a leather backpack with spear and shield strapped on her back, a pair of well-worn riding boots and blue woad streaks underneath her fierce crystalline blue eyes - she has the mark of a large cat on the prowl. The dust on her riding cloak looks fresh, as if Lyonesse had just ridden back from a long patrol and trek through the woods, of the non-romantic variety. A full mane of golden hair, braided and re-braided across the sides of her head, gives her the kind of pagan wildness that attracts the less fainthearted. But there is nothing more intimidating to these male knights of gallantry than a woman geared for a war and ready to win it, by any means necessary.

Eyes scan the great hall with keen interest. As Lyonesse approaches, adjusting her swordbelt, she marches over to where her cousin Arta is. As brash and beautiful as Arta is plain and plump, the Lioness looks skeptically at the people gathered and then in a gruff whisper (it's clear that the Lioness has never had need for whispering in her life), "… What are all these peacocks gathered about for?"

Of note: Lyonesse stands taller than most men, even knights with steady bread and meat all their lives. Towering, even.

Over at the back, a certain young woman is having a change of heart about her reasons for being here. Catching her breath as she listens to the names of those being called forward, Angharad turns to beckon to one of the servants that are present in the hall, and murmurs something quietly in his ear—lifting her chin in Seren's direction as she does. The faintest wash of colour touches to her cheeks at the sudden and rash decision that she's made, and there's a quick checking of the neatness of her braid and a tucking back of any stray wisps. It's then that she spots Eirian, and with a smile that melts across her face, she slips through those that separate her from her friend and makes her way to join her.

Also of note: Lyonesse had her spear and shield removed at the gates, but they would usually be there! In fact, she was all in a hustle and bustle to get into the great hall that the brave man who stopped her to inform her of the 'no weapons' rule got a stern look, but relatively rapid disarmament from the Cholderton she-knight.

There is something flickering behind Rozenn's blue eyes. Consideration. Guardsman is not the position she sought for herself, but she also knew she aimmed high. To make Commander at her age is no easy task, but to train beneath Sir Mawrth, knowing the man's age… It is an opportunity and as the Burcombe's expression shifts, she sees it clear as such. It is not a lesser place, no, but the chance to prove herself wholly. Straightening, she squares her shoulders and dips her chin in assent to the Earl. "I am willing to accept, my Lord. Thank you for the opportunity. Shall I report to Sir Mawrth?"

Among the many that step into the Great hall, Seraphina is the next. She is dressed in her normal form of armor and that cloak that sweep deep shadows around her. She allows her cloak to be pressed back and weapons checked, a dip of her chin towards the guards doing such things. Once all is well she moves towards the side of the hall to watch with curious amber eyes. It will for the moment hard to tell just why she is there.

Quillian watches the Burcombe, but says naught as the position offered to Rozenn. Still he keeps himself upright as best as able-which is a fair share better than when the patrol brought him back from Buckholt.

From her time working for the Earl, Seren seems to read him well. Even as he begins to turn to her, the quill she holds is busy marking down something on the parchment, a half smile curving her lips. Looking back up, she catches sight of Lysanor and gives a tiny wave and a smile filled with warmth, glad to see her friend there among the masses. Angharad also receives a friendly greeting while Seren's assistant takes the names of those wishing to have audience with the Earl and the information is passed along to Seren so she can introduce them in turn, to Robert. As Rozenn stands, she gives an encouraging smile to the woman, writing down the position offered, and waiting for the response.

Braelynn stands quietly, watching the proceedings. Green eyes rest on Seren and Earl Robert, and she is content to wait patient. She takes a deep breath and clasps her hands tighter to still the slight tremble that has started there.

A nod is given from Earl Robert to Sir Rozenn, "Thank you for serving, we look forward to that which you may provide us." Nod given, then his head raises, leave granted. A hint of a smile at his face even, glad she is willing and ready to serve. More a changing of the guard of late, those aging, the new knights beginning to show their own. As he watches her a moment, "Please do report to Sir Mawrth, we are all certain he could use some relieft." A slight shift at his chair, he leans up just a little to cross his hands upon his lap. Some may smile around the household, the man is aging indeed, probably complains about aches, but still does his duty diligently.
Then he turns to find the next, seems Sir Quillian may be in order.

As eyes come up on Sir Quillian, he moves forward carefully before he moves to drop to a knee and gingerly lower himself into a sign of fealty and respect given the Earl's status. "My liege, as ever honored I am to serve in your household, I have come today to give my report on the raid on Buckholt, if you would hear it-Though wounded I was, I can commend the knights therein involved." a grimace as he rises. "Also I came to ask permission to pursue Sir Sior and Iorveth, whatever their true names be, and bring your justice. I will be free of the infirmary soon and able to bring such justice as you see fit upon those bas-" and he cuts himself off. "Knaves."

Seren continues writing, then as the next knight steps up, she poises her quill, awaiting his request. It was not one she she had expected and she looks up from the parchment, a certain respect in her eyes before she transfers the look to Earl Robert for his own response to the Broughton.

Once given leave, Rozenn relaxes a small measure. The Earl's attention will turn to the next and she is able to feel less 'on the spot.' The woman takes a slow breath, tipping head in nod to Quillian as she steps away. Relief in her mien, she catches sight of her sister in the crowd of those waiting. A smile is given; intended to be somewhat encouraging. There is a slight falter in her departure as she hears Quillian's words. A bit of a stall, the woman turning a measure to listen for the reply.

The shadow in the back shifts, and Seraphina allows her hood to fall around her shoulders as she moves with slow and careful steps towards the middle of the room, ending up near her sister with a gentle touch of Angharad's shoulder in greeting. Other wise she is listening to the Knight speaking at the moment and tilts her head to the side, a pondering expression crossing those lovely features. Even if her sister does outshine her, it is easy to see they family markers.

Rozenn's inward movement brings Eirian to a subtle form of attention, her posture shifted by an increment that draws her narrow shoulders back and lengthens her silhouette modestly, but sufficiently to pull her almost to her full height. So might lionesses in distant Barbary welcome one another after a return from a successful hunt, the high-strung creatures in bliants and tunics no less majestic or caring in sharing the spoils of their achievements. In this case, she opens her arms slightly in posture almost to beckon the knight towards her, two Burcombes linked by a look of those unearthly blue eyes, and the tether of the slightest nod. She parts her lips, the slightest shaping of a word there.

Earl Robert nods at the introduction of Sir Quillian. The man known, currently a member of his household just the same. Hearing him out of certainly, the main breathes in assuradely to steady his thoughts as he hears the other. There is a rise to his lips, not quick a snicker, but the shared sentiment on the bastards in question of course. "Aye, yes, you have no lack of zeal in serving Salisbury, Sir Quillian." Said and noted from recent activities, including the matter of Buckholt. "You would serve justice well and I do believe you would make a fine Keeper of the law. You are appreciated here in garrison and on patrol, but if you could make do with more of your time towards Sir Pellyn," the Sheriff, "You would make a fine keeper. You do well in the field sir."

Angharad's smile for Seraphina is immediate when the touch to her shoulder indicates her presence. "I wondered if you might be here," she says, her voice dropped low enough that it won't disturb those around them. Another time she might well loop her arm through her sister's, or lift herself up on her toes to dot a quick kiss of greeting to her cheek, but here in Court she refrains from doing so, a lift of her hand instead to rub at a smudge that mar's the edge of Seraphina's cloak. Teeth worry at her lower lip, and after a breath is drawn, she goes on to add, "Are you seeking a position today?"

Arta gives Lyonesse a look. "They are here for the court Cousin." Arta smiles "It involves boring stuff such as sitting about quietly without weapons and drink and listening to the earl talk."

"That-" the knight pauses before a smile comes upon his lips towards the man before him. He is quick to button down to a proper scowl as showing the seriousness of the offer, but the Blackfish is clearly honored, and his mask slips appropriately to show it. "I would be honored to serve you and this fine house in such a manner." A step in the right direction. "I will acquit myself to Sir Pellyn. Nor will I let you or our fair land down."

There is a smile for her sister, but Rozenn does not step near. No need to interrupt the continued proceedings, afterall. The Knight does watch Eirian's lips as those brief words are shaped. Just a nod of understanding and a glance over shoulder back towards the dais before she begins her egress proper to locate Sir Mawrth.

Lyonesse checked her honest of 13, she rolled 2.

Braelynn glances about those gathered, and seeing her cousins she slowly makes her way toward them. A deep inhalation of breath is let out slowly and she stops near them, giving a nervous smile to Lyonesse and Arta. Pale fingers fidget slightly, and then Braelynn seems to realize it, and those hands clasp so tightly fidgeting is no longer an option.

"As always, we are thankful Sir Qullian," he and his officers, but Robert corrects, "I am grateful, you have done and continue to do well. We expect no less." That he will not be let down that is. The man is given an extra moment in a nod, being his own knight in the household. Once that man is accepted and given leave of course, Robert turns back to Seren again. Seems the day is going well for him, not overly boring, and when it comes the kinder things in his office, he's always in a bit of a better mood at least. No smiles per say, but the features may read as much. He looks along for the next one, Lady Lysanor de Dinton it would seem.

Seraphina sees no reason not to lean over and kiss her baby sisters cheek. And while that is at odds with the normal silent Knight while in armor, it is not for family. A little smile is given to the smaller girl when the smudge is rubbed but she just shakes her head and let's it go. At the question, Seraphina seems to ponder as her eyes watch the going ons. "I am not sure, I became as Knight to serve and protect, not for glory, but there are some positions that others Knights might not so desire.." That isn't a yes or no, but her husky deep voice does not go much farther than her sister.

Seren calls up her friend next, Lady Lysanor de Dinton, a warm smile given her after she copies the position down for Sir Quillian. Poising her quill after the dip into ink, she looks expectantly towards the lady, hoping the position would be something they could work together. The hopeful expression is worn on her features, so apparent. Even as she is whispered the next name to add to the list, her eyes seek and find Seraphina, offering a nod, she is added to the list of those wishing to see the Earl.

Quillian nods once more with a grin to the Earl, before he is moving back to his usual watchful place amongst the Court, though Seren is given a grin and nod as well to the Scribe.

"Huh," Lyonesse says curiously yet bluntly at the same time, before nudging both Braelynn and Arta with her elbows. "… My place is with the people. But maybe an audience with the Earl isn't a bad thing, yeah? I have a few words to say to him myself, I reckon." The lady knight tries her best to surreptitiously stalk over to Seren in order to have her notice posted that she requests an audience with the Earl, but the Lioness de Cholderton is about as subtle as a brick to the face. She stalks over, crossing the middle of the great hall with all the pride a pagan woman can hide behind fierce eyes and tautly set lips, and stands, near six feet tall, looming over Seren's right shoulder. One would think she's trying to read Seren's words, but like most knights (and people, in fact), she is illiterate. She waits patiently and does peer at the loopy scratchings.

Even if Cerys walked into the Great Hall together with her friend lady Arta, the ginger kind of withdrew aside once the Chodlreton lady formed a crowd of siblings and friends around herself.
The ginger is standing calmly and without any signs of curiosity or eagerness to gossip of who asks what, or who wears what, or who interacts with whom. The Tisbury redhead just peeks at the named people, but then her gaze is turned to some kind of a random spot on someone's shirt, cloak or just a wall. Then she remains thoughtful until another name is announced.

When Sir Quillian speaks of the raid on Buckholt, Lysanor's soft features tense, her lips curving into a small frown. She had already heard of this news among many others, reminding her very well of what her initial business in Sarum was to begin with. However, when it is her turn, hearing her name called, the auburn-haired Dinton makes her way forward on gentle steps before lowering herself into a graceful curtsy. "I am honored to be granted this opportunity to speak before you today, Your Grace." Straightening up to full height, she then states, "Shortly after the Miracle at the Presentation Day Feast, Sir Acwel de Woodford requested my aid in the mission which followed. This would be the first time in my life where I was allowed to assist in such an important matter and while I may be unable to serve in the capacity of our valorous knights, Sir Acwel had chosen me to help deal with diplomatic relations. In the end, our mission was successful and we were able to return Lord Siarl back to his home, back to Arnsford." Drawing in a quiet breath, she then states, "If you so see me fit for the position, I would be honored to serve you as an envoy. I know that I lack the experience, but I am willing to learn and train."

Arta looks at Cerys, she feels sorry for her friend, instead of going to her she concentrates on letting Cerys have some space. Wherever there is a lot of people Arta could swear she has noticed that people seem to crow about her. Arta has no idea why that is, maybe it is coincidence or innate charisma?

Angharad's cheeks dimple with the breadth of her smile when Seraphina admits her reasons for being there, and it's a show of that relentless faith for her sibling's abilities that has her saying, "Good. And I am quite certain that whatever it is that you are aiming for, that none could be better." She knots her hands once more behind her back, a nudge of encouragement given her sibling with her shoulder before she looks once more back to where Robert sits to mark what others are asking of him. "Seraphina," she murmurs, glancing quickly at her sibling before looking away again, "Do you really think they might consider me for the position of Guard Commander? Glaw said they might…"

Bran enters the crowded great hall, stepping through the entryway and into the large room. With polite care and a few murmured pleas for pardon, he slips through the rabble at the back to make his way closer to the front and where he will, presumably, find the earl. There he is! The Bodenham knight joins the crowd and turns his attention to Lysanor as she makes her appeal to their liege, remaining quiet and still once he's found a suitable place in which to stand. The dark-haired man clasps his hands together before him, his posture upright, but he seems fairly comfortable in that stance. Every so often, his gaze shifts about the room to see who may be about and with whom they are congregating.

Arta nods at Braelynn as she focuses her eyes on her "How are you?"

Another figure will soon join those within the hall,this one of a mere slip of a young woman dressed in forest greens and browns. While missing her usual quiver and bow, she is not without one dog that seems to follow her, trotting quietly at her feet. Like others before her, Erylys makes her way forwards, cutting through some of the crowd to where she might join those others wishing to speak with the Earl. Upon spying Seren, she offers the scribe a nod of her head and a smile, then tunes in to what might be discussed currently.

Braelynn gives a brief nod of her head to Arta and leans forward to whisper quietly, "I'm nervous. There are so many people here!"

The arrival of the de Cholderton knight so near brings Seren's attention to the tall.. very tall lady over her shoulder. Surprised, she glances towards Robert, then the knight, but is currently writing down what it is Lysanor is saying, recording it to parchment. Only in the break between Lysanor's request and Robert's answer does she defer to the knight, "Your name, Sir?" Bringing back the list of those wishing audience with the Earl.

Hhhhuh. Huhhhhh. Heavy breathing over Seren's shoulder. Lyonesse leans forward and whispers (though again, she's probably physically incapable of whispering): "I'd like a personal audience with the Earl, m'Lady." And when she does get addressed, she raises her voice just a little bit (which really doesn't matter, seeing as the entire court is watching anyways) and addresses Seren like one would another knight in personal combat: loud, proud and defiant. "Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton, at your service." The Lioness doesn't make a showing at the Sarum courts frequently, but when she does, it's always a splash. Again - nearly six feet tall, braided pagan hair with split ends and crazy frizz, but somehow beautiful and fierce (if one is the type to dig that sort of thing) - Lyonesse breaks into a smile that looks kind of like a grimace, all teeth and blue woad paint on her cheeks. "Thank you kindly." And with that, the Cholderton knight extracts herself from the position looming over the Earl's scribe. She stalks on her way back to her cousin Arta and Braelynn, grinning like a madwoman.

The dainty Burcombe lady, Eirian, holds her hands in a light cradle, fingers laced together, concealed for the most part beneath her long sleeves. Apart and waiting, she listens to the presentations before the Earl. The tip of her head slightly in Lysanor's direction catches the words dispatched to Robert de Sarum over the background chatter, quiet conversations and observations melding into a tapestry of sound she has to tease the one fiery thread and another deep and solid as earth itself. Very little motion distinguishes her from the background save the occasional shift in her posture, hers a vigil of court to match everyone else.

For simplification of matters, Seren calls over her assistant, offering her one parchment for those already having requested, penning in the Cholderton knight before offering the list over to the younger girl. The assistant moves to post it where others (who can read at least) can keep track of who is at the dias and who will is next, perhaps. The list on the parchment reads as follows:

Lady Lysanor de Dinton
Lady Eirian de Burcombe
Lady Angharad de Newton Tony
Lady Cerys de Tisbury
Lady Arta de Cholderton
Lady Braelynn de Cholderton
Sir Seraphina de Newton Tony
Sir Bran de Bodenham
Lady Erylys de Berwick St. James
Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton

Seraphina blinks once as she glances over to Angharad, there is a moment where it's clear she is not sure if her sister is teasing or not. But she finally offers in a soft voice, though the growl makes it rough. "I do think maybe you would be better suited for something else. I have no doubt if you put your mind to something you can handle it. But that position is really for a Knight who has some training in how to train others.." And many more things, but she leaves it to something that simple.

Angharad covers her mouth to stem the laugh that threatens, her attempt to keep a straight face perhaps -not- quite so good as she'd hoped it might be. "I'm teasing…" she says, the tip of her nose crinkling as she presses her lips together behind her fingers. "I am going to ask on something else entirely." And then she DOES kiss her sister, a press to her arm and a lift of herself onto her toes to place that kiss perfectly upon her cheek. Kiss. "I honestly think, were I ever to try and wield a sword, that I'd likely lose my balance and topple face forward where I stood."

Lady Lysanor de Dinton,
Lady Eirian de Burcombe,
Lady Angharad de Newton Tony,
Lady Cerys de Tisbury
Lady Arta de Cholderton
Lady Braelynn de Cholderton
Sir Seraphina de Newton Tony
Sir Bran de Bodenham
Lady Erylys de Berwick St. James
Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton
Lady Leodwen de Falt'

Earl Robert listens to Lady Lysanor as she approaches, a respectful inclination of his head to her. The acknowledgement reads in his body, knowing well the mission of Sir Acwel. "Lady Lysanor, I do understand well that yourself and Lady Seren here were a boon to Sir Acwel as he lately travelled to Cornwall." A look to some an officer nearby with some confirmation of this. Though he brings back his attention quickly to the lady of house Dinton, she the center of his attention in the moment. "I do believe you would do well to serve the county as an Envoy. Perhaps Lady Seren could introduce you later to the Chancellor, Sir Yestin. You would be welcome as an envoy, and we could open records to you that would be needed in embassy with our neighbors and allies. Sir Yestin could see that you are trained in the manner of our relations and histories, notewithstanding that which you already know." A nod of his head again, granting her the opportunity, and deferring slightly to Lady Seren. Lady Lysanor could certainly find the Chancellor herself, he only assumes they might be more acquianted following the mission to Exeter. As he turns to discover the next to meet with him, Lady Eirian de Burcomb, one of his officers has stepped forward, suspicous perhaps of the looming in the vicnity of Earl Robert and Lady Seren. Perhaps if it were less behind any of the aforementioned, he might be more comfortable with the looming of Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton.

On hearing the Earl's words, Lysanor's face brightens considerably as she is unable to keep that excited smile from her lips. "Thank you, Your Grace. I am grateful to be given this opportunity to serve you." She then turns to Seren, that smile broadening all the more. "Yes, yes of course. Lady Seren was very much a boon to the mission with everyone else." Lowering herself into a curtsey to mark her departure, she then eagerly states, "I will make certain to seek out Sir Yestin and look forward in starting with my training. Thank you again." With that, any nervousness which she had felt prior is quickly crushed as she gently takes a step to the back, before moving off to the side to join once more.

Seren gives an eager nod to the Lady Lysanor when Robert mentions the two of them, though a blush heightens in her cheeks from the words of Lysanor. As she pens in the position and the pending meeting of Sir Yestin, she looks towards Eirian, the Burcombe lady she remembers from Carlion. Erylys is given a smile and a quick wave in greeting, but she looks to Eirian for her turn before the Earl.

Idris walks in, clad in clothes meant for court. He approaches Seren's assistant, speaking with them to add himself to the list of petitioners.

Leodwen de Falt is among those waiting to be called forth, the excitement evident in the sparkle of her brown eyes, her upright posture as she moves to her tiptoes to glimpse anything of the proceedings. The dress is dark blue samite, with some embroideries at the hems of the long sleeves and the skirts, of modest cut that fits the slender physique of the young widow nicely. Long blonde tresses are worn in a loose braid, and the only piece of jewelry is a necklace with a pendant in the shape of a raven in flight.

Lady Angharad de Newton Tony
Lady Cerys de Tisbury
Lady Arta de Cholderton
Lady Braelynn de Cholderton
Sir Seraphina de Newton Tony
Sir Bran de Bodenham
Lady Erylys de Berwick St. James
Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton
Lady Leodwen de Falt
Sir Idris de Bodenham

Angharad walks forward when called, the girl a delicately built slip of a thing looking as if a mere breath of a wind might blow her away. Her curtsey to Robert is deep, skirts lifted enough to give an inch clearance of the floor be she straightens and clasps her hands together before her. "Thank you for the honour of being granted the opportunity to speak today, Your Grace. But…" she says, her eyes on him as colour starts to lift in her cheeks. "… since sending forward my request to speak, I have heard murmurings amongst other here that makes me think that the position I sought is perhaps not something I might reasonably be offered. That of Assistant to the Treasury." She exhales a breath, and chews on the inside of her cheek. "A knight's position, from what I hear, and clearly I am no knight. My skills do not lie in the strength of my arm or the swing of my sword, but in the quill I hold and my ability to organise things. I am unsure whether there might be something moreappropriatethat I could offer myself up for, but as to my initial thoughts of what I might do, then I could suggest nobody better suited to -that- than my sister. Sir Seraphina de Newton Tony." There's a casual tossing of her sister beneath the wheels of a cart with that. She does falter there, perhaps at a loss as to anything else to say, so simply waits to see what's said in return.

Not concerned on the matter of looming, Robert focuses on Lady Angharad as she comes before him. Thought followed by consideration plays over his features as he hears her out. As she finishes, he looks to the Chancellor, Sir Yestin a moment again. Then rubs his chin to flesh out what he is thinking. Fully given his attention to Lady Angharad again, the Earl responds. "Sir Seraphina, she did wall in the tourney of late." A slight nod. "Generally yes, this position goes to a sworn knight, as they will have access to the treasury. But they are also in need of a good head. Perhaps you would find it suitable to serve with your Sister, Ser Seraphina. As you assist our Steward in this assignment? There is no need to rewrite what counsel has determined appropriate but we know we have a competent keeper of records to assist the treasury?" A pause, she may accept as she sees fit, "If this works, then you have only to speak with Sir Cadan," the steward.
If she is agreeable of course, he looks to Seren to assure there is a next; Lady Eirian de Burcombe.

Seraphina watches Rad, ie her sister as she steps up to speak, and the smallest smiles touches those lips as pride fills her eyes. That is till she is thrown under the cart by said sister, and those eyes narrow gently but she then just stands a little straighter in support of family. Then the Earl is speaking and Seraphina takes a few steps to meet her sister in the middle of the room. When the Earl finishes she bows as a Knight to her Lord with hand over heart. She let's her baby sister speak though as it was offered to Angharad to take or not.

Shoulders that had started to creep towards her ears, are lowered as Robert speaks, and the smile that touches upon Angharad's face is quite magical. "I accept the position most happily, Your Grace," she breathes, another curtsey dipped before a nod is given Seren's way to confirm that acceptance to be noted by ink. As if it even needed confirming. Hands smooth skirts, and two steps back are taken before she turns neatly and makes her way back, beaming at her sister as she passes.

It seems it was a dual request of two sisters and Seren gives both Seraphina and Angharad a warm smile as she pens in at least the first half of it, offered by the Earl to the sisters, though she will await to see whether Seraphina will continue with it. However, the Burcombe lady is next and she records the happenings as they occur, quite a pleasant and happy smile on her face.

The summons before the Earl holding court in his own demesnes might send a bolt through veterans of a battlefield, but Eirian shrinks not an inch in her approach. After the signals summoning her forth, she turns her head to offer Seren a nod and soft-spoken, "Thank you for your diligence, Lady Woodford." Fluid motion defines her transition from waiting at the periphery to a central position in the hall, her fingers pinched at strategic points in her bliant to avoid catching under her toe or upon the floor. The obeisance executed sinks low, held for a span without shaking, and then she tips her head upwards as she rises. "Merry met and good health to Your Grace," she says, raising her voice slightly to maintain its clarity. "I have been privileged to come before you to inquire how I may serve you and our people. Today, I would reiterate my intention to further the peace enjoyed in Salisbury by maintaining good relations with our neighbours and advocating for your interests at a lord's table as much as a village square. Should it please you, I would seek to confirm the promise made then to serve in a diplomatic and organizational position, should you see fit to use such skills and education as mine. The good governance seen in Carlion with our king and queen is an inspiration to be delivered even to the destitute and displaced survivors of Buckholt, as much as the fortunate citizens of Sarum." The fey tilt of her smile softens the unusual quality of her countenance and the way she holds herself, even as she gently opens her hands in wordless supplication to punctuate her statement. Robert holds her serene gaze. "Again, my thanks that you entertain my petition, and all those come to do their best for our land."

As Seraphina is not the one who speaks much in armor, the bow is probably acceptance, but as her turn in front of the Earl will come, she simply steps back with a bow of her head at Seren and then she glances towards her sister, a hint of amusement in her eyes as she offers her arm to escort her back to the side.

Lyonesse checked her faerielore of 10, she rolled 11.

"Who is -that-?" Lyonesse can be heard stage-whispering from the huddle of Choldertons, as she points out the fae-like Eirian. Round eyes of grey-blue, like little sparkling coins, the fey delicacy and willowy build, Eirian draws a certain amount of attention in the center. It is with no small wonder that the Lioness of Cholderton - an earthy girl, the bonny get of a Cholderton noblewoman on a Beltaine eve - peers upon the woman standing there, making her case known. "… She looks a bit like what you'd imagine the Little People to be, flitting across the dew-covered grass, hiding like so." While not the -entire- room might hear Lyonesse's wondering, she doesn't hide her voice. Or if she does, she's terribly bad at it. "… But, I can't say I've -actually- seen fae. Do you know her, Arta?" The statuesque lady knight ribs her cousin Arta in the shoulder again.

Earl Robert sits patiently as he listens to Lady Eirian and her request. Amiable would be the face he wears to her words. A slight shift to his side, catching a different lean upon his chair as he takes in those words she offers him. "I would be glad to welcome you as an envoy of Salisbury, Lady Eirian. There is some mixed regards over that of Burcombe, and yet you show well enough the grace of your family. I would be glad to give you this opportunity to work with our Chancellor as well, that you may show the grace of Sarum to those you may entreat allies and neighbors alike. You may do well to learn with Sir Yestin the same that you are better prepared with a deeper understanding of our histories." A nod given, Sir Yestin will be ready for her as well.
Giving her a moment to collect herself is she is agreeable, he turns again towards Seren, only then. Then next would seem to be Lady Cerys de Tisbury.

When a young ginger hears her name, she inhales deeply before taking a first step. Her lips curl up into a simple polite smile, even if shadowed by very well known grievous recent events related to her eldest brother Hadyn de Tisbury, and a charming dimple appears on her left cheek. She fixes her eyes green like a fresh leaf of a maple at Earl Robert. A lady of a tiny build takes small graceful steps to approach Robert and Seren, smoothly thrusting through all the possible gawkers.
It looks like eternity, but finally she is in front of them. Her pale fingers nip gently the sides of her black skirt. She offers a deep and polite curtsy before a soft voice of the ginger announces the reason of her arrival, "Your Grace, I am here in regard to my interest in a position within your court too. I wish to be a valuable branch in the Salisbury tree to work for a better tomorrow for all of us. I do not want to just be a painting hanging on the wall at which everyone loves to stare. So, I thought that I could be of use to the Countess as one of the ladies-in-waiting…" Cerys does not even blink how focused she is on the Earl. The corners of her lips twitch just a little bit, but the polite smile does not crumble.
"I can't brag about my personal deeds yet, because I am still young and but a mere lady, neither a knight nor an artist. However, my family was serving honorably and loyally to your family for a very long time. My grandfather Griffen de Tisbury faught bravely in the siege of Carlion and faced a heroic death in the Battle of Windsor. My father Kenrick de Tisbury fiercely defended our freedom and peaceful well being in more than ten battles, starting with naval rides in 487, Battle of Lindsey and finishing up with the Battle of Bassus River. I have their blood running in my veins. I may not have their physical strength, but I have the same inner strength, loyalty and bravery as they. However, if I should point out some of my main abilities, I am quite well at reading, stewardship. Also, my oratory skills helped our family to have a communication between commoners and us of the highest quality. I could add more but do not wish to waste your precious time with simple words. It would be better if I would be honored with a chance to prove what I state." Cerys slowly moistens her bottom lip with a tip of a tongue before pressing her lips together and waiting for the judgement.

Erylys bids her time, listening to those being called forwards, and their various requests made of the Earl. She doesn't fidget, doesn't seem to move much at all, intent on the various conversations. Overhearing Lyonesse's words, there comes a slight smile to her lips in acknowledgement of the knight's comments about the lady currently speaking with the Earl. A young page approaches from behind, tapping her lightly on the shoulder. Turning about, she speaks with him, then nods with a slight frown on her lips. She will pause on the way out to softly offer to Seren, "I will have to speak with the Earl another time.." Seems something has come up that needs her attention outside the hall.

Lady Arta de Cholderton
Lady Braelynn de Cholderton
Sir Seraphina de Newton Tony
Sir Bran de Bodenham
Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton
Lady Leodwen de Falt
Sir Idris de Bodenham
Sir Maelgwyn de Burcombe

There's a moment where Idris just stares at Cerys' words, an eyebrow lifting when she retells the long story of her father's knightly career. Assuming he is rather close to his brother, he murmurs, something, expressionless, but still somewhat puzzled.

Eirian hardly claps her hands and twirls around to throw an enchantment upon the unsuspecting courtiers and honourable knights assembled behind her. She fights a moment to contain the vibrant current of energy illuminating her features, though only Robert and those ahead of her might read the distinguishing marks illuminating her face before she deftly adopts a more contained expression. Rolling her shoulders forward, she dips again at the knees, her tunic draped in a dusty tide around her ankles and pulling back again. "One obtains a certain degree of temperance handling spirited relations. You may count on the Burcombe family to represent Sarum to the very best of our abilities, and remedy whatever shortcomings with utmost energy and honour." Her piece said, she pivots away from the Earl once he dismisses her, facilitating the transition for Cerys to approach. The retreat towards the fringes of the room goes blithely enough, though she gives the Lioness of Cholderton a steady look that leads to a minute inclination of her head, almost paying an answer to the question raised moments earlier.

Robert checked his Energetic of 12, he rolled 17.

As more arrive and others finish, Seren keeps the requests in order while updating the order posted. Again the note is handed to her assistant with the queue, and the young girl posts it while Seren gives over her attention to the current proceedings. Noticing Erylys, she listens, looks briefly disappointed, but only for the hunter, and nods, giving a friendly smile. "I will make an appointment for you, my lady."

Arta nods and smiles at Cerys approvingly to encourage her.

Erylys thanks Seren, then slips out of the hall, her dog following at her feet.

Arta looks at Lyonesse "That is Eirian de Burcombe. A lady i saved from drowning at Bourne river."

When the petite Cerys - glowing, ethereal and tiny - steps demurely before the Earl to make her case, Lyonesse cranes her head over the knight beside her. Given that the man, a bored-looking older gentleman nearing his forties, is only 5'6", she easily clears his head and peers intently at Cerys's raiment. And then she clicks her tongue against her teeth and (in that faux whisper of hers), comments to Arta: "… That's your friend, cousin Arta? The Tisbury girl? I'd call bull—"

Outside, a cock crows excitedly in the distance, chased by a stable lad or kitchen scullion, probably trying to get it to enter a great stew pot. It manages to cover neatly what indecencies Lyonesse - having spent most of her time among commoners and being a bastard herself - was about to say. "—on 'communication between commoners'. Why, just look at that floor-length dress. You couldn't sit down and milk a cow in -that-," she whispers loudly. Dreadfully honest, these pagan girls are. "Floor-length, and it'd get all dreadfully dirty. But she is very pretty, yes."

No doubt, though, the man next to Lyonesse gives her a withering look of annoyance before turning to regard Cerys. Pretty indeed. To Arta, Lyonesse responds absentmindedly: "Oh, Arta! I didn't realize you were such a hero. Has she thanked you properly?"

Maelgwyn checked his Awareness of 15, he rolled 8.

Sir Maelgwyn de Burcombe seems to have entered the Great Hall at somepoint while Eirian was making a huge scene and had his name added to the list of people doing things. He does happen to be just in time to hear Cerys go into her little speech. He snorts in something quite like disgust before taking a position in the back of the room and awaiting his turn. There is something off though. A slight whiff of something. "I smell fish." He mutters to himself.

A turn and a listen to the Lady de Tisbury, or daughter of his vassal at least, and Robert does indeed listen. A slight turn of head, but he maintains focus through it all it seems. The room is warm, he has listened to a few people. A moment in there he sort of loses focus even. His eyes wander for once. The history of Tisbury sounds good, certainly. He drifts just a little, its seems a look from Seren reminds him there is expectation for the moment. A quick adjust, inhale of a quick breath and he is fully focused on Lady Cerys once more. "Ah, yes, the Countess Ellen, as well as my wife, are served by ladies currently. If you wish to make good on this potential, I can offer to you to serve as a handmaiden to these ladies. Both to learn fully what it takes to serve a Countess, and learn more of the castle itself. There are a couple that you will work with in this endeavor. If this is agreeable, we can have you speak with one in due order." Either Ellen or his wife. He nods to acknowledge that is what he will offer.
Should she take it, he turns once more, awaiting the presene of Lady Arta de Cholderton.

Cerys de Tisbury offers a deep curtsy once more, "Thank you, your grace, I am more than happy for such a chance," She agrees and then leaves the Great Hall in the same manner she walked in.
Seraphina pages Robert and Seren: Thank you, I'm about to get to busy for a large scene.

Llewelyn makes his way into the crowded hall, frowning a bit at all the mass of knightly folk ahead. Leaning left, then right, he tries as best he can to get a look around some fellow ahead of him, although the larger man blocks out his view of things pretty well. "Och, feckin' mess a folk done turned up," he mutters, albeit at a thankfully lower volume.

Arta stands up and walks towards Earl Robert. She is glad she now has an excuse to not reply to the last comment of her cousin Lyonesse about Cerys or explains how Eirian was about to sink with a rowboat into the river and how she was like a wet cat after the ordeal. Arta nods to Seren and then she curtsies in a dignified manner to Earl Robert. "Your grace." Arta works to not blush at herself. A bad habit she tends to have in social situations she deems awkward to herself. "I wish to ask for the position of the court poet." "I am well-versed in the latin alphabeth, reading and writing. I am also a skilled composer, i am able to write songs, poems and letters with a tiny bit of inspiration and i would like to put my skills in formal." Arta works to contain the blush, she thinks she is doing alright job but she might blush anyway like she uses to.

"She's a beautiful writer," Lyonesse calls out, voice hale and hearty. "The like of which you've never seen, your Grace. She writes these beautiful poems," she says heartily in support of her cousin. If she had a shield, she'd thump her sword against it (a pagan's 'Amen'?) before smiling fiercely up at her cousin. Arta - stocky and round, blushing like an apple - might have gotten unwanted support, but to Wyrd with whatever Arta wants - Lyonesse is here to support her, and by Brigid, she'll do that! A row of straight teeth peek out from the large Cholderton lady knight's lips, fierce and loyal.

The earl considers this request. Really thinking on it for the moment. While there may not be an active search for the position, a good entertainer is sometimes hard to find just the same. Robert scratches at his chin again, a purse of his lips slightly upwards in thought. "Lady Arta de Cholderton," he returns, "Perhaps this could be suitable for you, though we would need some demonstration of your abilities. We will most likely hold court again before we have our tournament this summer." A shift and look to the scribe for half a second, "Would you be willing to come prepared with poems to present to the court during festivities, and maybe a composed song that our musicians may demonstrate the arrangement you would bring to music?" A pause, seeing again if this would be acceptable to her. If she agrees he will nod to confirm along with her. If not a full position, retained would be something suitable.
Then a look of course to the next Cholderton who is awaiting a moment of time, Lady Braelynn.

Though if Lyonesse could appreciate a poem or even read a single line (hell, tell a Bible from a builder's log), then we'd all be saints. Not that anyone has to know this. The fierce Lioness beams at her cousin. It takes a goodly amount of restraint from the exuberant Cholderton knight not to answer, 'Hell to the yes' for her cousin, but she grins all the same.

Arta nods and smiles "I agree to these terms your grace."

At her turn before Earl Robert, Braelynn takes a deep breath and begins to make her way toward Earl Robert and Lady Seren. As she dips her head respectfully, an errant curl works its' way loose from the neat bun she had tamed the curls into, and flops helplessly down the side of her cheek. She lifts her head and gives Earl Robert a shy smile. She speaks with a quiet determination as she says, "My Liege, Thank you for granting me audience this day. I shall make my request brief, I should think, and there is no need to take up more of your time than necessary. My friends and I are in need of information on people and places that have been lost to recent memory. I am hoping to find some mention of them in past court documents that may point us in the proper direction, if you will be so kind as to allow me access to them." She pauses for a moment, and then adds, "I would also like to offer my services in any capacity you deem appropriate, My Liege."

Angharad starts to work her way towards the door now that her own business at court is concluded. Not that she'd arrived with thoughts of such, business that is, but the gods being what they are, and fate having given her a hefty push on the shoulder, business is what it had transpired to be. There's smiles and kisses to cheeks for those that she knows as she weaves her way through those still waiting to be heard, and then she's slipping through the door, and out. Thoughts of travel back home already crowding her head.
Angharad leaves, heading towards the Sarum Castle Bailey [Out].
Angharad has left.

Arta leaves the great hall gracefully after the formalities.

The word lost brings Eirian away from receiving farewells and musing upon the inquiries sought. She puts her hand to her mouth again and stands on the tips of her toes to see Lady Braelynn. Dark brows arch slightly and she slips closer into the audience, as it may be the only way to mark who as much as what is requested.

Condering this request, the Earl really has to think about it. Some seem something curious in it, but to him it more settles closer to snooping around. Access granted to those who need it to assist the castle and county of course, but they didn't mentioned looking for lost records. A few breaths of silence given in contemplation from the lord. "You are welcome to ask our keepers of record for something you so wish. If this interests you, perhaps you could train under Sir Yestin and one of those in direct serivce on how our records our keep. The good Lady Seren here trained much the same before we had need of her as the Court Scribe. Maybe this is suitable and will help you find the information you seek." And of course turn a voice back to him as to what she's researching or wanting to research in court documents. "Such skills are valuable in the courts, you could well learn the laws of the sheriffs of Arthur for when the come through for court as well in Salisbury." That seems to be a good fit for not fulling having the context of what she seeks, help given and received in exchange. He'll nod an affirmation should she accept.

Braelynn gives Earl Robert a wide smile and says cheerfully, "Thank you!" before she makes her way back to her cousin Lyonesse. Her cheeks are quite pink with embarassment and she takes deep steadying breaths.

Yet another makes her way into the throne room, her tall boots of beaten leather hide shined to as high a gloss as they can be for the age that they are. Today Amalthea has taken some care in her appearance. Her tunic is clean, her tights likewise, and her chestnut hair is tied back in a thick cable, not a strand errant. As she pauses, she tips her head up for a moment to the timbers high above, sending out a silent prayer. Then she looks around for a page, or for a list to add her name to.

Sir Bran de Bodenham
Sir Lyonesse de Cholderton
Lady Leodwen de Falt
Sir Idris de Bodenham
Sir Maelgwyn de Burcombe
Lady Amalthea de Dinton

Still and unobtrusive as the others step forward before the Earl, Bran slips free from the crowd and approaches once he's summoned, bowing before Robert, "Good day, Your Grace. I will not regale the court with tales of my family's glory and dedicated service. It is well known throughout Salisbury and beyond. I speak of and for myself only. I wish to be considered for an office under the Sheriff as a keeper of the law. I am a fair man with an eye for justice. I have both the spiritual fortitude to show mercy in my dealings and also the stomach for carrying out Your Grace's justice when punishment is called for. I am capable at arms and would serve as a symbol of the righteousness of your law and rule." the following pause is long enough that it may seem he has no more to say regarding his petition, but after another moment, he bows once more to Robert, "I believe it is a position for which I am well suited, Your Grace. Thank you for your consideration." and there he finishes, man of relatively few words at the moment, awaiting the Earl's reply.

Braelynn waits a few moments, standing next to, or is that hiding behind her much more flamboyant cousin, before she nudges her and gives her quick smile and walks, very quickly for the exit.

A moment before Sir Bran steps up and after Lady Braelynn steps aside, Robert lifts and lowers on his haunch just a little, a slight itch on his back in that shirt of his. But he is composed once more as Sir Bran de Bodenham. A slight consideration of that request is turned over, then he leans forward a little. "Sir Bran, I recall hearing of some success amongst the personal challenges during the wedding tourney at Carlion. You perhaps could make for a suitable keeper, but our positions are limited." Ask the assistant treasurers some day, ugh, audits. "Would you be willing to prove yourself here, perhaps as a Guardsmen or Court Retainer?" A shift, "If you seek to be active and about in your service, Master of Couriers requires someone swift of sword and competent in their decisions."
He will let the other decide on the other possbilities, and will gladly nod approval if one is selected of course.
The next would be Lady Erylys de Berwick St. James.

"I would of course be willing, Your Grace. Certainly. It would be an honor to serve as court retainer, with your permission. Thank you, Your Grace." Bran makes quick work of accepting Robert's offer and naming his preference. The knight bows and steps aside for the next petitioner, slipping back into the crowd to find Idris. Once he locates his brother, he takes up a position beside him, looking to the tall and boisterous woman to follow his comparatively subdued interaction with the Earl.

Lyonesse checked her orate of 15, she rolled 18.

"Well, your Grace," Lyonesse says as she pushes her way to the front. Still clad in her chainmail haubergeon, fresh with dust from the road on her traveler's cloak (dyed indigo from the woad plant), Sir Lyonesse tips her chin up at Robert proudly (only to realize that she might actually have to look down at him, given her incredible height). As she goes up, the whispers - much better concealed than her own loud bumblings - will talk. And talk they will! The Lioness of Cholderton, the Beltaine bastard get of a Cholderton virgin, had no father. The girl wouldn't say, twenty-one years ago, and twenty-one years later, her sole daughter had grown into a fine woman. Whoever her father was, he must have been half-giant - broad-shoulders, fierce blue eyes and braided golden hair, Lyonesse looks every part the lion. Stupidly honest, some might say, but talk of her knighting was rampant the winter past - the Bourne river had flooded and when a party of Picts rushed in to claim women and babes, a lone Lyonesse had held them off with shield and spear alone, at the river crossing, allowing none to cross.

All this is history, and people talk. A bastard is still a bastard, even with valor like this.

"Your Grace," Lyonesse continues again - her voice is high and large. "I am a woman, a knight of the people. And the people need fairness and justice. Sir Quillian - the Blackfish - is a fine knight, upstanding, strong, stern… harsh. A good man, but a hard man. Y'ken, I perhaps can tame his Earl's justice with mercy. I ask that I travel when needed to bring justice - a justice tempered by womanly virtue - to the people of Salisbury. All told, it has been a rough year, and the people need a little…" She pauses, trailing off. "… A little niceness, if y'will. It's one thing to Keep the Law, but another to carry out justice. Perhaps my heart will temper the Blackfish's?"

The speech, though it starts strong, might or might not fall on deaf ears. Surely, there's a better word than 'niceness'.

"Would you carry the worth of Sarum to all of Salisbury?" Robert returns questions to her, the speech taken despite lapses or phasing. "Would you administer that law in our borders and conform to the laws of the realms around us should you be assigned to travel there as well?" Similar to Bran, Robert is deflecting towards another position that is needed of course. "Keepers we seem to be in no short supply presently, but Master of Couriers may well be suited to somenoe who could carry out justice and help t oassure that our laws are followed and observed. To represent Salisbury as needed …"

Lyonesse checked her honest of 13, she rolled 7.

"Well, then I shall defend missives to the best of my ability. Except, m'Lord, I am not well… read." Lyonesse pauses and considers the Earl for a moment longer. "Would not a literate knight be better for one who couriers things?" She tilts her head slightly and awaits his answer. "… Then again," Lyonesse continues in her own 'thinking out loud', "Perhaps it's best the messenger doesn't know what message she carries." She lifts her chin and then laughs heartily. "You can trust me with your messages, Earl Robert - I will guard them and make sure they get to their intended quickly and honestly. I swear this to you, under the Morrigan, Brigid, Lugh and the others." A deep bow.

Lord above! Now it is Leodwen's turn to step forward, and her fingers reach for the dark blue skirts, lifting them just as not to trip on them. Excitement and a tinge of nervousness dim the wide smile into a more appropriate cheerful expression, when Leodwen lowers herself into a graceful curtsey - dancing lessons evident there, or just natural grace, who can tell? When the lady straightens she just stands there for a moment, hazel eyes lifted to meet Seren's gaze first before they shift to Earl Robert de Salisbury.

"Your Grace," the blonde lady of Falt Manor intones in a voice that is slightly breathless. "Greetings from my brother, Sir Custennin de Falt. He sends you his best regards… and… well… me." A smile there, a slight roll of her eyes. "Because… I am of little use at home… I mean… My brother got married recently, to the lovely Sir Myfanwy de Cholderton. And while it was my task earlier to take care of my brother… I am now suddenly left without such office, as he is his wife's concern now. Your Grace. I wish to serve Salisbury… and you. It is my wish…", and here her voice almost fails her, and Leodwen de Falt needs to clear her throat, "to offer company and diversion to your dear lady wife, the Countess Esyte! I can be quite entertaining company, so I am told. I know how to carry a tune, and have entertained a moderate crowd at the Wedding Tournament in Carlion with a singing performance at the artistic contest… I have…" And again there is a slight cough. "Extensive knowledge in the healing arts, have tended to illnesses and injuries in my family repeatedly. Also… I have some experience as a midwife. I am well-read and moderately fluent in Latin." She swallows, fingers of her hands twining before her. "So… if I could become a lady-in-waiting to Countess Esyte, to assist the first lady-in-waiting. If your lady wife would be agreeable to this, and you as well, of course…!" Words trail off, leaving the sentence dangling somewhat in the air, when Leodwen's lips are pressed together before they curve upwards in cautious optimism, hands now clasped before her as she holds her breath, eager for Earl Robert's reply.

Lady Leodwen de Falt
Sir Idris de Bodenham
Sir Maelgwyn de Burcombe
Lady Amalthea de Dinton

A short response to Lyonesse from Robert, "The message being delivered is as important as the message itself. You may retain the position until there one is found to your liking, or you may find time to learn to read with one of our clerks." A look to Seren of course, but the position offered and he nods approval if Lyonesse is willing.
A moment given and then Lady Leodwen is there. He listens, as in part, if she is entertaining as she says, he will hear about it, or come to listen to something of course should his wife call for him. "A handmaiden to help her Lady in Waiting and to do so much more. I find this agreable Lady Leodwen. Final decision shall reast in her lady-in-waiting and her. Though, of late with the burden she bares, I am certain the more help she has the better she will be. Yes, I am agreealbe Lady Leodwen." A grin even, a slight breath of air in the court for the moment that isn't all swords and such. A rare grin it could be noted from the Earl. He at least is no Jaradan, who has never been seen smiling. That nod of agrement given and he turns again to hear after the next to seek his audience.

Since next is Idris, he bows before the Earl, glancing to the knights in the court before he speaks. "Your Grace, I could speak of the glories past of my father, and that he served Salisbury and Ebble without fault, but I ought not do that. Instead, I will say that you can find in me a reliable sword arm and someone who understands that things simply need to be done, when they need to be done. I would like to request to become a Tax Collector, therefore, as I find this to be an agreeable job, and one of trust, where I might display the fullness of my skills and travel throughout all of Salisbury. Any knight here is witness to how well I performed at Carlion, that I won the personal challenges, that I was a finalist at the lists. But I am more than that." He pauses, for dramatic effect, "If you would give me this opportunity, I would like to prove just how good I am at righting wrongs that do not belong squarely in the realm of law, but rather in that of finance. I will find those that owe you, and they will pay you what you are due. In full."

With a bow, Lyonesse retreats from whence she came, a masculine stride tempered by a slight feminine sway of her lady hips. The Cholderton girls all fled upon getting assigned jobs - to this, she ponders to herself, as she goes to find them once more. Master of Courier. How do you even spell that?

Leodwen's features are caught in an almost grimace of eager anticipation and nervousness, that her request might be declined, it is obvious in her posture, the tension, and the way her eyes close for a moment, and her lips move as if in some hurried silent prayer to the God above. And so… with such reply given that leaves the possibility open - an agreement there at least on the part of the Earl, with confirmation of the deal still pending on the part of the Countess, Leodwen's slender frame slumps a little as air leaves her in a relieved sigh, the glee hard to ignore, when her hands are brought together in a gesture of deeply felt gratitude. "Oh! Your Grace!", Leodwen exclaims with breathless astonishment. "I shall help where I can! Just… let me know when a visit to your lady wife would be agreeable, so she can judge for herself. Oh, thank you. Thank you so much." Words fail her and she lowers herself into a deep curtsey, cheeks rosy, and energy evident in the way she straigthens then to make room for the next petitioner.

A measure of a look granted Lady Leodwen and she is thankful, livening the audieance in the great hall today at least. Then, sort of looking off atht the start of glories past, knowing this one is a Bodenham, Robert seems ready to what for a look to say he should respond. Ah, but that part was quick, he back in his chair, letting that itch there settle. A nod comes from him, "You have proven yourself in the lists, both at the challenges and at the tilt, Sir Idris. I find this an agreeable position for your talents. You should report to Sir Pellyn as well that you are suited for this position and he can being at once in seeing that you are trained well for this job." On other manners, better collecting methods and such perhaps. A firm nod given, no doubt about it, Idris will do fine. Except for those who do owe taxes.

Maelgwyn checked his Cruel of 16, he rolled 12.

When his name is called, Maelgwyn de Burcombe approaches the Earl and bows politely before him. "Your Grace, as others before me have stated before and far better than I could ever wish to, I will not waste your time by telling of past deeds of my fathers or myself." The Burcombe knight says in a polite tone. "No, I am here to ask for the honor of serving as one of your tax collectors. I understand well how we each must give you your due, Your Grace, and I would work dilligently to ensure that all manors provide you the exact and proper amount of taxation, nothing less. Should any manor not give you your due, I will ensure that is a situation that never happens again, even if that manor happens to be Burcombe." There is the slight glimmer of malice in his eyes when he says those words, indicating that people who don't pay their tax may not like his response.

"Thank you, Your Grace. I shall do so immediately." Idris tells Robert, bowing again to him as he steps aside so Maelgwyn can say his piece. When the Burcombe states he, too, would like to be a tax colletor, his lips start curving in amusement. Then he hears the rest of it and can't help but laugh very briefly, covering his mouth with a sleeve afterward and pretending he's coughing.

Another one, and straight to the point, even straighter it might be noted by Robert. And it is, as his hand finds a part of his chair to pick at half a moment. Then its just as easy as that, he gives a nod to the Burcombe. Each showing their comptence in diligene, not telling him how to do his job, seems to make up for anything of late. Or is starting to at least. "Sir Maelgwyn, this is of course for you to prove, but you have my trust to begin to trod this path. You may speak with sir Pellyn as well, that you may become a dutiful Tax Collector of Salisbury. I believe we will be in capable hands."

Maelgwyn checked his Proud of 13, he rolled 2.

Maelgwyn's chest swells with a measure of pride as the Earl gives him his trust. "Thank you, Your Grace. I shall not let you down, nor disappoint you." He bows to the man once more and then makes way for the next person to have their audience with the Earl.

Finally, Llewelyn and then Amalthea's turn to be called, and Seren offers her a warm smile to those who had been waiting most of the day for their turn. Several parchments of paper were used, and she continues to write, careful to try and keep as little ink from her fingers as possible.

"Yer grace," Llewelyn begins once having wandered forward through the thinning crowds, evidently capable of words more polite than his usual swear-soup when he is standing before the high and mighty lord of the land! He's foul-mouthed, not dumb! "I dinnae if, erm, it's any different wot people are askin' for now, but I've worked here before as a huntsman an' I'd like to keep workin' as one, or maybe overseein' a few, 'cause some of them youngin's don't know their arrow-tips from their pri-." Ahem. He stops himself there. Close call! "My, erm, talents wot make me fit for it," 'qualifications' is the word he's looking for, although it's a bit too big for his vocabulary! "Are that I'm a good tracker, an' a good shot, aye? Or handy with a spear, if it's boar we're after. Keen eyed, too. Plus I've shot a couple saxons in my day, though I suppose that's not much here or there."

That leaves Seren in a prime position to hear the almost slip and she gives him a confused look but it is brief before her eyes widen and she bites her lip as she tries to separate rhetoric from the request, a blush creeping into her cheeks. 'Huntsman' is penned in, "A huntsman with Lady Erylys," she gently reminds the Earl of the meeting that had been slated since before the wedding.

Listening to the next, the near slip, it gives the Earl cause to smile certainly. Another break in the day, first Lady Leodwen and now this man before him. "Llewelyn," he returns, knowing of that experience, namely the more recent trouble with some saxons, "I think this is a calling you have." He turns to nod to Seren as well, marking that there was another interested in helping the court in this manner. "Yes, I believe we do have room for master hunstsmen. With our win in the melee in Carlion, I do believe our next tournament will bring in visitors to say they have challenged us, competed with us. I expect an increase in visitors and a need to take them out to hunt. We would need every capable body to assure these are successful, as well as the pantry is kept full for our Butler and his men." And women. "You may seek out Sir Clais to aid him as a Master Hunstman. Lady Erylys will be joining you I do believe." The mouth of the man is one thing, but the skills and qualifications far more important.

Patiently, Amalthea has been waiting. It is a trait she has long since fostered. Seren's smile is returned, though laced with nerves as Amalthea waits until Llewelyn's bid is complete, then approaches Robert. Garbed as she is in (clean) stable fare, she sweeps the Earl a bow rather than a curtsey, for all the fact that she is a Lady. Too hard to curtsey in a fitted tunic. "Your Grace. I would like to petition you for the position of stablemaster." Straightening to her full height, a hand's breadth over five and a half feet, she is still careful to keep her eyes slightly down. The Lady doth know what it means to serve. She also covets the horses. So hard. And tries not to show it.

"My father was stablemaster of Dinton until his death. I have, since birth, been trained for the position. There are those who have seen me ride, have seen me race with your Knights at the tournaments in Carlion," *cough*andbeatthem*cough*, "have seen my care with the mounts in my charge, who might vouch. I have seen some few of the horses you possess, Your Grace, and I am awed as much as I am thrilled and humbled at the possibility of caring for, breeding, training, and healing them. I wish nothing more than to prove my worth for the glory of my father, for Dinton, and," she pauses, tipping her chestnut head just a nudge, rather like a horse might do, "for your greater glory, Your Grace." Thus said, she simply falls silent in wait.

"Thank ye very much, yer Grace," Llewelyn will offer with a deep bow and then scamper off, the rare, total lack of cursing a sure sign of his pleasure at the assignment!

A curious one, Robert listens to this once she offers to be stablemaster. Interesting indeed, he did enjoy horses after all. It was good to keep a stable in the city, away from where his horses were breed even. Things to learn, but in charge of the stable here definitely a good place to start. "Lady Amalthea, I have heard of the race and am curious at your offer. If you desire this position, then I am agreeable to grant you this. Speak as well with our Butler, SIr Clais, and he can set you towards the stables when you are ready. I am curious to see how you would handle our horses. The position then, is yours." Simply said, with a curt steadfastness in his words and the nod he gives, showing little uncertaintly if at all from the Earl to her request.

Amalthea checked her energetic of 16, she rolled 10.

Amalthea can't help the happy bounce she does, right in front of Robert. You can only hold that much energy in check for so long. When objects are acted upon by an unbalanced force, chaos ensues. "Thank you!" The words tumble out along with the hop. "Your Grace, thank you." Visions of chargers dance in her head as she reins herself in. "I will, immediately." Her smile is bright as the dawn of a summer's day, and just as impossible to stop. "Thank you." Again. She bows her way out of his presence.

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