For many years the Haerthorne House had been strong allies of the Bedwyr's, though the allegiance of Aerywyn to Jenred had not continued in so strong a fashion as that of his sons after his death. Nevertheless an invitation had been sent to their estates in Remton.
Only two had chosen to come of the remaining members of the family. The light of the sun caused Celyn to wince as he rode over the top of a hill before the estates. Aeriel, sister to Aerywyn and many years retired from active service, had the sense to cover her eyes as she followed Sir Celyn from behind along with a few choice retainers chosen for the event - Celyn's Captain of the Guard, a redheaded soldier named Xavier, and an old man whose donkey could hardly keep up with their noble horses who bore the name and title Cier'tal the Chronicler.
Celyn himself had his brown hair long enough to be bound in a few short warriors braids, though he wouldn't admit it in public that Aeriel had fussed over him and taught him how. Though not much older than he was she treated him like a mother would treat a son. His strength was returning since the ordeal in Beluaterra as well, so that he looked more and more like an aging bear who'd been through far too many scrapes over the long years of its life. Sir Caim was visibly not in attendence, drilling his men in the northern front and preparing ground for the coming assault. Unlike his older cousin, the handsome prick still saw war as a fun ordeal. Not enough time on the losing end, Celyn supposed, and still able to wake up each morning after a battle retaining the ability to command obediance from his muscles. He hated how mortal he was becoming.
The lingering and unabashed touch of Aeriel's hand on his arm brought him back out of his bitter shell. She was smiling at him, Celyn noticed. Ever since she had saved his life and took this ragged, almost unrecognisable form into her home he had never seen her show anything but that motherly affection. He'd been suspicious at first, the snarling visage of a broken warrior clumsily probing her for the woes that must hide beneath it. And yet despite his attitude she had not let up, continuing in her small acts of kindness and persistent in the hours of each day she gave to him. By the time he thought of attempting to smile back at her, Aeriel had turned away again, her face hidden on the right by her grey hair streaked with stubborn red lines.
A few jokes were passed around until they reached the front gate. They all dismounted and dusted off their clothes from the long ride. Celyn in particular fussed around with a short green cloak that didn't appear to fit right to him at whatever angle it rested off his shoulders. A few other worries twisted knots with his guts as he thought of the possible insult of his cousin not attending and whether anyone would actually recognise them, but with a customary coldness he managed to strike down such thoughts with a rod of steel down his spine and replaced his face with an anvil in time to stare down the footman who came to greet them.
They were brought into the estates with particular silence.
