Roleplay from Kyryn Kye JeVondair
Message sent to all nobles in Port Raviel (5 recipients) - 18 hours, 55 minutes ago
Port Raviel was familiar and comfortable to Kyryn. He'd be born in the keep and though he'd done most of his growing-up in the Lurian Court, he had spent the vast majority of his time in D'Hara as a courtier supporting his father's former fief. He had met with the people, dined with them, heard their woes and communicated them to the appropriate authorities. He'd even gotten drunk with a merchant or two upon occasion to celebrate the success of a hard-negotiated deal or marriage, or both. He knew this place. Which was why the shouts of alarm were even more out of place then they otherwise would have been.
He could hardly imagine why.
Kyryn had thought his work as the Dragon King's...intermediary had ended when he'd delivered the invitation to the daimoness. But it didn't occur to him until it was too late that perhaps it would fall under the heading of Bad Idea to have the Zuma wander about the city and hope she wound up anywhere near where the King would be. For all he knew, she might wander into a local temple, and wouldn't THAT be something?
To avoid the potential panic a 3 meter daimon walking around in public might cause, he'd hired a few of the burliest ferrymen to take the Ferry's only lifeboat mid-transit in hopes of arriving in time to secure some manner of transportation for the Zuma. Naturally, for so large a...woman...a simple carriage would not do. Kyryn was no craftsman, but even he could see the Kylio's animalistic bulk would be, at best, an uncomfortable fit. Upon arriving at the port, Kyryn spoke with the more prominent drivers. Their carts and wagons were built for cargo, which guaranteed the King's guest would have room to arrange herself comfortably. It was ludicrous, he thought to himself, that he was worried about the comfort of a daimon. But Kyryn had a very acute sense of self-preservation, and it would be another Bad Idea to deliver her to the king after the foul mood that a poor ride might cause. Some noblewoman, he knew, took offense at every cobblestone they felt their carriages hit. Carriages, not draft carts with no suspension whatsoever. Of those he found, all were filthy with constant use, splintered and worn with little thought given to comfort. If the King didn't call for his head, she might.
Thus Kyryn found himself in his own personal carriage escorted through the docks and screams by a few JeRavosi mounted guard and thundered toward the towering, dark figure standing at the Ferry's edge. It was a gorgeous thing. Kyryn had spent a princely amount on commissioning it for his use while in the Empire, and refused to part with it. Another small fortune had been spent on getting it here. It was painted black with a crimson interior and lustrous upholstery. Everything that could be brass, was brass. Silk curtains were drawn out of the way so that Kyryin could see. It was, however, his personal carriage, and Kyryn, for all his breeding, was a prince only in name. That meant that for all his ostentation, he could only afford a relatively small conveyance, and while his carriages four wheeled-frame was indeed larger than the single-seat two wheelers favored by eastern merchants, it was only meant for two and the two horses that were hitched, while well bred, were both mares and on the smaller side at that. Kyryn hadn't counted on the need to entertain more than a single guest at once, so his two-seat carriage was far cry smaller than four or even eight-seaters drawn by as many fine stallions he'd seen the wealthiest nobles use. But it was all he had, and it would have to do. "OUT OF THE BLOODY DAMN WAY!" The JeRavosi Captain, a powerfully-built woman named Trajonia, bellowed. "DRAGON KING BUSINESS!"
With 8 mounted troops and a carriage being driven so quickly its many-spoked wheels skidded across the cobbles, the peasants and workers of the Port Raviel more than got the message, moving and diving out of the way. A subdued part of Kyryn's mind wondered if the crown would reimburse him if any of the stupendous amount of near-misses found a mark. The rest of him was inordinately grateful for the captain's deft handling of the crowd. Trajonia had known what to look for, and it was not long at all before the group had found Kylio, cordoned off a space around her, and pulled Kyryn's carriage up before her.
The carriage was still skidding as Kyryn flung the door wide and, smothering her trepidation with professionalism, held his hand out to Kylio. It would be an uncomfortably tight fit, but fit they would. And the sooner he delivered her to the King, the better...
"Welcome to Port Raviel, My Lady."
