The peel of the apple reflected the stormy heralding of the skies. The fresh scent of rain and the fat drops of the recent storm dripping from leaves accented the churning gravel of an approaching cart. His gaze would slide upwards as the knife began to cut through the waxy crimson of the fruits skin. The rivulets of neat trimmings would come to an end as the postman finally halted at the edge of the drive. "News from the capitol," He informed, though his tone was brisk and curt, he was not a rude man - rather, he seemed bothered, stressed by something. 

His trek back into the house was accompanied by cutting the apple in half, carving out the core and biting into the crisp flesh. His attention was brief over each of the envelopes, but lingered longest upon the one bearing his mother's family crest. The words, of course, escaped him, but he allowed his stare to linger over the penmanship regardless. 

Heavy boots illicit the creaks of the floorboards under him as he roamed back to where Ethel resided in the dining room. Offering her the other half of the fruit, he would also hand her the days heralding, taking yet another bite of his own half. "The post has come," though the announcement was unneeded, it left him none the less as he settled across from her at the table. "Anything important?"

Jahi

He reclined back against the counter, his stare fixated for a long pause upon the wax seal, vibrant crimson against the otherwise bland coloring. His pulse had settled, though it was still a harsh feeling trapped within his chest. Was this it then? Word of his missing mother? Perhaps the message was from she herself, having heard he was back within the continent. That he was searching for leads that would bring him to know of her whereabouts. Maybe it was more dire news, the final chapter of her sad saga, one he had only had the displeasure of witnessing the bittersweet later pages of.

"Odersten post service." She confirmed his own suspicions and what the postman had warned of upon the delivery. He would take another bite of the apple half, allowing his free hand to clasp the top of the cabinet. He was no stranger to the odd look upon her features as she opened it and began to glissade over the scrawled message. It was dismay, but not one of bewilderment, and it stirred within him curiosity, his heart calmed even more, concluding that whatever was intended was not news of the Lady of Dunmeath. So he finished the last of his apple half, "It's... it's nothing." She paused, and he would cross his arms, not looking away from her countenance. "It's..." If her own demeanor hadn't given away her lie, the varying shake of her vocals would inevitably have been her downfall. "Might as well get it over with."

Despite the shuddering undertones, she read the notice. A draft then. A hand drew upwards, cradling the curve of his chin in thoughtfulness. Truthfully, he was surprised that the pale and thin imagery of 'peace' had lasted this long. Many rumors he'd heard in his return since the beginning of this always building tension. The death of the crowned prince and the king's only son was said to push the man over the edge, driving him mad with grief. He knew not what councilman had managed to postpone the order for this long, nor why nothing had done been done in effort to reclaim the vast and fertile lands of Dunmeath. There had been a muted sting, perhaps it would be named guilt, or spurned need for retribution of his post - of his home. Had he been present, would the outcome have been different? They had always been on the brink of the line. For years they had fended back the half hearted attempts of Lavalles and its provinces. It had been their blood shed and their lives lost to stand as a dam to halt the overspill into the rest of Vufrein. His own included, a tool long before his own sire's mind had deserted from greed.

"So... I guess it's finally time. Dunno why they waited so long." He lowered both his arms, allowing the flats of his palms to rest on the smoothed wood on either side of him. To say he was unsettled by the news would be false. If anything, despite himself, he almost felt... like a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Though that feeling also came with a penance of guilt. This was a breath of normalcy for him, something he knew, and a reason to return to it, and yet her disposition only deteriorated further. "Everyone will be gathered at the capitol city first." He would stop then, a realization dawning upon him. Everyone would gather, along with the other citizens of Sanctuary. The truth of his own person would come to light. It would be unlikely he would be welcome here again once all was said and done. If they did seek to overtake Dunmeath once more, Sanctuary would be in an indirect path between the two, and could even become a usurped military camp should the king deem it necessary. "Would... you like to go at least that far?"

Jahi

"I'd worry myself sick if I didn't." She obliged without hesitation. He would shift with a slight frown twitching over his lips. The top row of cabinetry pressed against his spine as he eyed the letter, only tearing his gaze away as he felt her stare upon his features. Only then would the rigidity of his expression disperse and he would lower the arms crossed over his chest. Addressed out the ninth, received the eleventh and expected to be standing ready in Odersten within a mere five days' time from there. What the sense of urgency was he did not know. His trips into the capitol had been very few and far between, his route almost exclusively consisted to the vulnerable lands of Sanctuary and their safety. What would happen to the women and children left behind should a battle embark? What if another stray beast found its way into the supposed arms of safety? What guard would there be to fend off such a plague?

He found himself drawn into another dark expression, this one somewhat deeper than the first. While it was true that he had very little in way of affiliation to any of them, he knew a great many to be her friends. Such of the wife and children of the man savaged by the feral wolf in recent days. What of men such as him, as well? He was made lame by the assault. Never again would he wield a bow to hunt, let alone a sword to fight for those of Vufrien. Was he still expected to serve? He knew the answer - if it was his father's reign. His hands tightened upon the lip behind him. The man would be garnished in the colors of Dunmeath and set upon the front lines, a body to stemmie the flow of the enemy. While he was being cut down, his comrade had a better chance to kill the one to strike him. A lame man with little use was viewed as a waste of resources. Of food and armor and steel. It made the hearty sting and twinge of his own mending injury more pronounced. In spite of the ropey pink eye sore, it was mending, and it didn't rob him use of his hand any more. He was not useless.

"When do we leave?" Her breathless question, the first of many it would seem, drew him back to the present, bidding him release his grasp and once more focus upon her briefly before he was set into motion. "I'm expected to be there in less than a week. So I s'pose we should pack and leave immediately. It's a long ride to the capitol." "We'll have to get Hazel ready." He would briefly nod, removing the oils and various maintenance materials for his weapons from the cupboard. " And the house." Another nod. What would they do with the house? Would good deeds and helpfulness have won him a place here in the long run, or would the stringent rules apply that he would no longer be permitted within the perimeter that he solely upheld for the most part? "Oh, there's so much we'll have to bring." This would drag forth a faint grunt, "We should travel as light as we can. We won't be furnishing another house anytime soon." "Will poor Hazel be able to handle the trip?" He would turn his attention back to her once more.

Their trip from her homeland had been much more lax, he would admit. It didn't serve as a lesson on how quick they had to depart now, and if it wasn't for the ill feeling of trusting another with her safety, he would merely ride out and send for her once he had more stable accommodations arranged for her. While that may prove to be the most easy for the two of them, it wasn't something he was willing to put his faith into. If a draft with such a sudden deadline had been issued, it didn't seem to bode well. Perhaps something had already occurred in the mainland that he just wasn't privy to in this remote homestead. "We'll have to get a cart. She can pull a cart." He assured. Finally, she would end her inquiries with: "Where will we be stayin'?" He shook his head slightly. "Dunno yet. Figure I'll be staying in a barrack. That's the way it usually goes, anyroad." He would pick up his usual rucksack, the very one that accompanied him on his hunting trips. "You can find a place you like. I'll be paid for this. We'll have plenty."

Jahi