(1866-08-21) A Lesson in Adaptability
A Lesson in Adaptability
Summary: Jaren Cassomir gets a response from the Duchess of Seaguard that makes for some rapidly-changing plans.
Date: Aout 21, 1866
Related: A Thoroughly Decent Proposal
Jaren  Raelyn  

An Office in the Cassomir Manse in Sunsreach
See Log
Aout 21, 1866 IA

Evening at the Cassomir Manse in Sunsreach, and for once, Jaren Cassomir is in residence. He hasn't spent EVERY night at the Royal Palace during his sojourn here…but it would be safe to say he's spent the majority there. Not tonight, though, as tonight finds him at his desk in the room that's been converted into a "dual office." One desk for Jaren, and one for Raelyn as she takes in more of the duties of being Viscountess or receives lessons from the Master Steward. Fortunately things at home have been quite and Devlin seems to have matters in hand.

In any case, Jaren has sent word through the proverbial grapevine that, at Raelyn's convenience, he would like to speak with her. For now, he scribbles away at a bit of correspondence, a near-empty winecup nearby, and a an everglow globe sitting on the desk unactivated should the sun dip fully below the horizon before he's done.

"This isn't about my drunken revelry at three in the morning with Emilia, is it?" asks Raelyn with a half-smile as she moves into the 'dual office'. It pleases her, some, to see Jaren there, in his old, familiar chair. "Because I am not going to sing, again. No matter how much you ask, Jaren."

"No. Nothing to do with drunken revelry with Emilia at three in the morning." Jaren notes with a faint smile, his eyes, for the moment, still on the letter he's writing. He scrawls out a few more words, "And you're just…in…time." He makes the last few marks, and then reaches to a small bowl of sand, sprinkling it on the parchment to soak up some of the excess ink, letting it lie for a few moments, "I have tidings. Good tidings, I think, but tidings." He opens a drawer on the desk, pulling out a parchment and a scroll case, "I'll confess to a small amount of disappointment, however. Which is an odd thing to say when matters actually went…far more smoothly than I could have imagined. But I digress."

"I had intended to use the negotiations with Duchess Eleanor as a means of showing you how these sorts of things usually go. I wrote her a few weeks ago inquiring as to her younger son, Lord Stephen whom…I believe you have some interest in?" Jaren smiles a bit, "But now, it seems this is a lesson in adaptability instead…because instead of an agreement to begin negotiations, she simply sent back this…" He picks up the scroll case, moving out of his chair to step over and offer it to Raelyn, still smiling a bit wryly.

"It was accompanied by this…" He offers over the other parchment, which bears a note from said Duchess.

The more Jaren speaks, the more Raelyn's features flatten, and go into a more typical Cassomir stoic sort of expression, perparing for … something? "Some interest," she agrees, albiet cautiously. This was not a topic, afterall, that her and her brother discussed. She frowns, just a bit - not in annoyance, or displeasure but more uncertainty. "Just exactly what have you done, Jaren?" And, cautiously, she reads the parchment. And, the scroll.

Then, she looks up at Jaren, doing a fairly decent job of hiding her expression. "And what if it were some other Warden's favor I was wearing?" She inquires, "You didn't even ask me!" A faint, sort of exasperated exclimation, that. But, her lips twitch - ever-so-slightly, upwards. That is, after she slugs Jaren in the chest with a downward thrust of her fist.

Jaren doesn't shy away from the punch, tilting a dark brow and shaking his head slightly, "I think you misunderstand….I only sought to open negotiations…if the duchess was amenable, then I would have included you. Instead, the Duchess chose to…accelerate the timeline, as it were. But, the contract is not signed by either party yet," Jaren notes in a tone so nonchalant it's impossible to be anything other than teasing, "So if it's some other Warden you want…then I will inform the Duchess." There's a similar glimmer in his eye and ever-so-slight quirk of his lips, conversation had or not, Jaren isn't ignorant of all the goings-on with his family.

"You are exasperating," Raelyn declares, and throws one last punch against Jaren's chest, and then hugs him. Tightly. "And wonderful. But if you ever do something like that again without asking me first? I'm going to shoot apples off your head while you're tied to a tree," she says sagely, and a far-too-happy voice. But she likely does mean it. Maybe.

"I do seem to recall we did have a discussion about seeing you wed." Jaren notes, again no-selling the punch, but wrapping his arms around Raelyn when she hugs him and giving her a tight squeeze, "And all told…this is probably the last time I'd get the chance to do something like this at all." It's an odd tone to his voice at that…not quite sad, but not entirely pleased, either. He will miss Ironhold. For all the darkness its' held, it is home, and the feeling of "removal" from the rest of the world while he's there has always brought him a measure of peace…small chance of finding similar solitude here in Sunsreach, one of the great cities of the world.

"So I take it I probably shouldn't write back a refusal?" He adds, grinning ever-so-slightly.

"Not unless you want to explain to Alysande why you've replaced one of the gunny-sack-and-straw target practice dummies out in the yard," suggests Raelyn, calmly, but with that same happy expression and tone to her words. "And yes, we did. We did have that conversation. Jaren, you're a fiend. But I love you."

"I somehow suspect you won't be averse to the Duchess' suggestion of a small ceremony?" Jaren replies, smiling once more, "Likely just two or three days after Alysande and I wed. I think most everyone that would be interested in attending both ceremonies would still be in the city at that point…and we could arrange for a proper celebration back in Ironhold once you and your new husband return. If you wish…that particular decision would be yours, as Viscountess."

Finally Raelyn pulls away to sink down into a chair, "By the One," she says quietly, "I was -not- expecting this, Jaren," Raelyn admits. "I thought I wouldn't even approach you with the suggestion until after the wedding." She shakes her head, eyes shifting ceiling-wards. "And a proper celebration in Ironhold sounds divine. That's where it should be, afterall," she agrees. "And no. A small ceremony with - interested parties is well enough." She shakes her head, "Adaptability, hmm?"

"Indeed." Jaren affirms, smirking just a bit, "Be sure to read over the contract…it will be binding to you as Viscountess, but from my estimation, it's fair to both parties, if not favoring our own interests in the material sense." Jaren chuckles, "Which of course means the Duchess will be holding some political capital to call in later. Likely when the next vote for Archduke or duchess is held."

"I shall read it over, thoroughly," Raelyn promises. Then, she pauses, asks quietly, thoughtful, "Is Steven aware, yet?"

"I don't know. Likely depends on whether he's reading Thaddeus' mail while his brother's north for the Wedding in Lonnaire." Jaren replies, grinning, "Feel free to inform him yourself, though. Or at least to find out whether he knows or not."

"I am - going to retire. And read. And - thank you, Jaren." Raelyn hugs her brother, hard, once more and kisses him on the cheek. Then, slugs him, as she departs, whistling a happy little tune. Things really couldn't have worked out better.


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