Thread: The Trouble with Treaties

The Lord Martinez's entrance to the city was nowhere near as dramatic as the previous deligate. His retinue arrived by carriage, two horse drawn, with simple, understated, well dressed men riding team and shotgun. The coach itself was well appointed, silver inlining, great craftmenship, a dark, polished wooden frame with an advanced suspension that seemed to let the vehicle ride over the dirt and roads without even the slightest of rocking. It came down the main avenue through the city, deviating not a bit from the most direct route towards the castle. A third of the way towards the castle, two men peeled out of the crowd and started pacing on either side of the carriage, the coachman seeming not to care. Another third, and two more peeled away, joining hte first two, flanking the carriage on the four corners. They were well built, keeping an eye out towards the crowds and passerbys. No visable weapons upon them, but they walked with a confidence and alertness that was unmistakable as a professional guardsman. They approached the castle with nowhere near the uproar that the previous diplomat did. They halted where called for, the coachman presenting papers identifying themselves as invited guests and diplomats. A few polite words were offered from inside the carriage, nothing too revealing, only stating that they would be making thier quarters first, and to inform the host of that being the case. They pulled around to whatever buildings lay around to tend to beasts and vehicles, the passengers riding the whole way in before the coachman finally stepped down, opening the door and lowering the step. First came out an elderly woman, her hair long since turned white. Her eyes seemed to be failing her, needing the coachman to help her down to the ground. Her back was hunched over, her face wrinkled, her skin pale, the veins just beneath the surface starting to show in spots. She was dressed warmly, bundled in furs despite the season, a thick coat crafted from creatures native to Goldspar. She moved slowly, gingerly, her whole body seeming to be in pain from the way she moved. Next came out a gentleman, young, cunning. His hair slicked back and dark. He had a sharp look about his face, a straight nose, angular features, his mouth seemed almost frozen in a half smirk. He was tall and gaunt, having to crouch over badly to get out of the carriage door, standing up to a full seven feet when he was down on the ground. He wore the simple garb of a servant, black clothing, a finely tailored, trimmed vest, loose shirt dyed black, with a bit of a puff to the sleeves, his breaches pressed and smooth, his shoes well cobbled, buffed to a fine shine. He picked at some nigh invisible speck on his shoulder while waiting for the last one. And last, came Lord Martinez himself. The slight man was dressed in a long coat of a rich, dark green. Gold embroidery on the cuffs, well polished silver buttons, a loose cut, without belt. A silken white shirt lurked beneath it, tailored to fit him almost perfectly, nearly snug against his frame. A wide black leather belt sinched up around his waist, with a buckle wrought of polished brass, upon his right side a short dagger scabbard, inlaid with silver, its handle silver with small rubies embedded in it. It was clearly a ceremonial and decorative piece, and not a functional weapon. He wore a pair of high boots, coming up past his knee, crafted of fine, soft brown leather, his green silken breeches tucked into the boots. He moved confidently, his retinue doing what they were ment for, each knowing thier job and not needing the Lord's reminders. The Lord gazed around slowly, taking in this humble area of the castle, its stables, knowing that there were probably over a dozen pairs of eyes watching them in addition to the those who were helping house the animals. To our quarters, he ordered, wondering which of those pairs of eyes would be responsible for such accomodations and waiting to do his job.