Ah. So perhaps Loren was friends with Wessex then. Or at least, loyal enough to a crown as to make no difference. Edy and Remi had similar hangups when Zariah declared herself Queen, Jigano remembered. The people from Northwind-and-haven were so used to obeying a monarch that it seemed to be nearly a reflex to them.
"Wessex and I don't like each other much, going back at least a year," he said mildly to the question. "That, however, is between us. We are able to work together when we must." A bare-bones truth, lacking all the nuance of jealousy and blame, cold calculations and boiling tempers from LongNights past and Flowerbirths that would never come again. His voice might have been calm, but there was a hint of iron in it, warning Loren that he would not get much more from the bard on the matter. If not even Rory and Amalia were given insight into the bad feeling between Provost and Queen, people who they both claimed as family, one of Wessex's supporters was unlikely to gain such honesty.
The stairs were not exactly conducive to serious conversation anyways, not with how they had to puff and pant, especially as more of the carpet's weight ended up on Jigano's bottom-most shoulders. Condolences over the uncertain tempers of children turned to questions of plans for the near future, and the bard huffed a soft laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that my reputation from last year was preceding me," he said wryly. A great many assumptions had been made about the bard due to those he had helped prepare their homes and buildings for LongNight, each assuming that he would only be fortifying a place he would personally be staying. No one had actually asked him though, and a great many had been surprised when he hadn't shown up as the last sun of the year was setting.
No one was making that mistake this year, and he was both amused and gratified by it, even if Loren didn't have the history with him that others did. "When the options offered were the Manor or the Temple, I was planning to stay at the Temple," he agreed, a hint of dry amusement in his voice. Loren knew his feelings on Zariah, and there was no need to rehash them. "But my presence has been requested at the Guild... and Rory will not leave the farm," he admitted in a lower voice, all humor fleeing. "He's survived plenty of LongNights there in his life, many of them alone. But he refuses to come back to the Temple... he almost died here, last year," he added softly. "I can understand why he doesn't want to return. In truth I would prefer to stay at the farm with him, but..." he couldn't shrug with the carpet on his shoulder, but he managed to convey the gesture with his voice. "Where I am most needed, there shall I go." For Kiada, and Ludo, and a soul lost in the dark far from Mort's embrace.
"What of yourself?"
"Wessex and I don't like each other much, going back at least a year," he said mildly to the question. "That, however, is between us. We are able to work together when we must." A bare-bones truth, lacking all the nuance of jealousy and blame, cold calculations and boiling tempers from LongNights past and Flowerbirths that would never come again. His voice might have been calm, but there was a hint of iron in it, warning Loren that he would not get much more from the bard on the matter. If not even Rory and Amalia were given insight into the bad feeling between Provost and Queen, people who they both claimed as family, one of Wessex's supporters was unlikely to gain such honesty.
The stairs were not exactly conducive to serious conversation anyways, not with how they had to puff and pant, especially as more of the carpet's weight ended up on Jigano's bottom-most shoulders. Condolences over the uncertain tempers of children turned to questions of plans for the near future, and the bard huffed a soft laugh. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think that my reputation from last year was preceding me," he said wryly. A great many assumptions had been made about the bard due to those he had helped prepare their homes and buildings for LongNight, each assuming that he would only be fortifying a place he would personally be staying. No one had actually asked him though, and a great many had been surprised when he hadn't shown up as the last sun of the year was setting.
No one was making that mistake this year, and he was both amused and gratified by it, even if Loren didn't have the history with him that others did. "When the options offered were the Manor or the Temple, I was planning to stay at the Temple," he agreed, a hint of dry amusement in his voice. Loren knew his feelings on Zariah, and there was no need to rehash them. "But my presence has been requested at the Guild... and Rory will not leave the farm," he admitted in a lower voice, all humor fleeing. "He's survived plenty of LongNights there in his life, many of them alone. But he refuses to come back to the Temple... he almost died here, last year," he added softly. "I can understand why he doesn't want to return. In truth I would prefer to stay at the farm with him, but..." he couldn't shrug with the carpet on his shoulder, but he managed to convey the gesture with his voice. "Where I am most needed, there shall I go." For Kiada, and Ludo, and a soul lost in the dark far from Mort's embrace.
"What of yourself?"
