A boy who seemed a bit of a fop or dandy, but who was flirting inexpertly with a girl of about his age.
When the dandy noticed the older knight watching him, he seemed a bit uncertain for a moment. Bane raised a tankard to the youth, grinning for a moment. Were I ever so young and carefree? Thinking naught of brief dalliance underneath springtime nights? Nay, I think not. Yet I did see many of mine colleagues go through similar trials methinks.
The blonde youth came over after the young lady had gone off, frowning at the knight.
"Ah, lad, never forget such," counseled the knight, raising his tankard to lightly salute the youth. "In days of war and long campaign, when blood and battle seem to be all one can see around him - it is times and circumstance like that which can keep yer heart from closing entire."
The blonde hesitated at that, his frown losing a bit of strength. "I... see. Well, my own family is of a long military pedigree..."
"Then, if conflict erupts on yer horizon - tis likely that you'll be finding yourself in the messy ends of things," said Bane.
"You have a point, but there's no signs of war - we've been at peace for many years now," said the blonde.
"Ah, that's the thing isn't it?" asked Bane. "Peace is such a fragile thing, and cherished all the more for its fragility. War though - that's inevitable. There'll always be something one has and another covets or needs. There'll always be some bit of ideology or deed that some will say needs dealing with. Then its send the soldiers out to die for it."
"I think I've heard my father say something similar," muttered the blonde.
Bane nodded, studied the dandy a moment, then reached down and pulled a bottle up. "Here lad, hold out your cup."
"What is it?" asked the dandy, eyeing the dark reddish old-looking bottle.
"Well, as a man of an old military family to another," said Bane, still feeling an instinctive dislike for the fop but he was trying anyway, "I'm sharing a splash of the good stuff."
The fop looked on as his own proffered glass received a brief pour of some dark reddish-purple fluid, and the knight put another pour into his elaborately carved tankard. "Yes, but what exactly is it?"
"A distant race known as the Pandaren consider themselves to be masters of the brewing arts," said Bane. "This is what they call plum wine. I'm told it is best drank sipped slowly during contemplative moments."
The blonde sipped at it, smacking his lips briefly, then his eyes widened. "Whoa."
"Ah, it has a bit of a kick, probably the result of those brewmaster's arts I mentioned," admitted the knight, himself unaware that the translation he'd gotten on the contents hadn't been quite accurate.
Montmorency wasn't sure what was going, but had heard Guiche laughing as if he'd heard the funniest joke in the world.
An unfamiliar looking man in silk clothing of an unfamiliar cut. Or no, the man looked vaguely familiar, didn't he? Whoever he was, his tankard looked quite expensive.
Guiche on the other hand was pouring himself something from a bottle and looking as thoroughly sloshed as it was possible to get without being facedown on the table.
"Thash ish eggacwy," said Guiche, nodding. "Yoush gosh it right there."
"Guiche?" asked Montmorency, wondering what that stuff was that they were drinking.
"Monmon monmonmon monie monie," said Guiche, brightening as he looked in her general direction.
"I think ye've had enough at this point," said the older man, clearly bemused.
"How much of that has he had?" asked Montmorency, ready to tear this commoner a new one.
"That's his second glass," said the commoner.
Montmorency blinked, considered that, and then stepped up to the table to check the bottle. Unfortunately it was written in some unfamiliar language. "What is it?"
"A brew known as 'Sweet Plum Wine' or so I am told," said the commoner.
Montmorency sniffed at it. "It smells sweet. Somewhat fruity."
"It is supposedly a delicacy intended for moments of quiet reflection," noted the commoner. "Though I suspect it was actually sold to me as something not quite up to the standards of the people who made it."
Montmorency put a drop of it on her finger and then transferred it to her tongue. "Mmmm. It's... how much alcohol is in this?"
"I have no idea actually," admitted the commoner. "Not that much I'd think."
"Monie monie," said Guiche, smiling. "Yoush the only one for me, monie."
"Oh?" said Montmorency, beginning to smile.
"Of coursh, Katie's soufflesh and Katerin's wafflesh, and Mindy's eggs florentine, andsh..." continued Guiche.
"Ah, he likes their cooking?" tried the commoner.
Montmorency was aware that her smile was now looking a bit forced and that one eyebrow was twitching a bit. She didn't particularly care about it though.
"Then again," mused Guiche. "There'sh Tabitha'sh cool demeanorsh, and then there's Kirchesh boobiesh."
"Uhm," said the commoner.
"You're going to try and come up with some positive spin that excuses him?" asked Montmorency, favoring the commoner with a glare.
"Well, I was trying, give me a moment and I'll see what I can come up with," said the commoner, scratching his head.
"I see," said Montmorency, giving the commoner a few points for loyalty to Guiche - probably one of his family retainers or something that had delivered a communique from his family and got to talking. There were many families here who used similar methods for checking up on the students and keeping them advised of developments back home after all. "I don't think it will help."
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(Posted Thu, 31 Jan 2013 17:04)
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