(1867-03-27) I have a...request
I have a…request
Summary: Mirza Ghazi Demir has a request to make of Viscountess Raelyn, and it presents an interesting situation.
Date: 1867-03-27
Related: None
Emilia  Ghazi  Raelyn  Stephen  

Great Hall - Roseguard Castle - Rivana
The Great Hall of Roseguard Castle is unsurprisingly where a great deal of the Castle's business is conducted. Here visitors are received, large meals and celebrations are held, the grievances of subjects are heard, and it's generally about as far as most visitors get into the home of House Cassomir. It is, unsurprisingly, a large room, leading to a slightly raised section upon which rests several large, comfortable chairs, though their construction and decoration is quite basic, lest they be confused with any sort of "throne." The pathway to that platform is covered by a long carpet of blue, trimmed in red…the colors of the house. Banners bearing the heraldry of House Cassomir hang upon the walls, and plenty of lanterns and sconces keep the place well let. Several members of the Iron Guard are on duty here at nearly all times, both on the ground floor and the balcony above.
It is quite simple to convert this into a dining space, and indeed nearly every evening that's precisely what happens as large tables are brought in, and plenty of chairs, so that the Cassomir family, their faithful retainers, and plenty of the Castle's servants share the evening meal together (usually along with a sampling of folks from Iron March or even further afield within the County). The atmosphere tends to be jovial during these times, and while nobles and commoners are seated separately, plenty of intermingling still occurs. The Hall can equally be converted into a ballroom, or arranged for other ceremonies as-needed. From here, stairways lead to the second floor, where the family's living quarters most likely are, while doorways here lead to the back of the castle where the Kitchens and the like rest, or back through the foyer and into the castle courtyard.

For the duration of their stay, the Alhazred contingent have been well-behaved and generally pleasant guests. There have been no attempts to go where they are not supposed to go, but neither have they secluded themselves in the guest quarters, being quite curious to get out and about in Iron March (utterly unafraid to try speaking with the people there, though the people are sometimes surprised and a bit taken aback by their somewhat forward nature…though the locals have warmed up to them over time, particularly the Shah Kabede Aman, the Prophet Hashim, and Mirza Ania Khare), and at times on guided tours of the forests with resident Huntresses. There have been no real complaints and only a few easily-achieved requests in terms of the hospitality they've received. But one member of the contingent has rather consistently held himself apart: The Mirza Ghazi Demir.

It doesn't take great powers of perception to tell that the man has been…uncomfortable about something. He's almost looked like he was simmering his entire time here, and yet he has allayed any inquiries as to his welfare or enjoyment of his time here. He is polite, but only just, and he seems to not find agreement in his compatriots' eagerness to meet the locals and immerse themselves in their land and (to an extent) culture. He has spoken only the bare minimum to the Viscountess and her Husband (or their other family members), but neither has he requested or demanded anything.
Until tonight.

Tonight, the Mirza Ghazi Demir has requested a meeting with the Viscountess and the Viscount, with the addendum that any they care to have join them are acceptable. The tone of the message that was passed did not seem angry, and was properly and politely worded. And so the Great Hall is empty save for the Viscountess Raelyn Cassomir, her husband Stephen, and her sister Emilia. Well, that and a few trusted servants and a couple Huntresses. Just in case.

And so at precisely the appointed hour, Ghazi Demir enters the great hall, striding purposefully towards where the Cassomirs wait, and bowing from the waist. His expression is neutral, bordering on cold, but not quite angry. Not yet, anyway. "Your Excellencies, Milady. Forgive my imposition, but I have a…request…I would make of you." That "request" word is not quite through clenched teeth…but there is a bit of an edge to it. Like he's not pleased to be saying it.

Raelyn inclines her head, and then moves to sit within the chair afterwards, gesturing for the Mirza Ghazi Demir to do something similar. She had, afterall, spent quite a bit of time with the contingency, guiding them with the Huntresses, speaking overmuch on her land, the people, and inquiring nearly as much about their own land and drawing comparisons and contrasts. Subtle, proper, and polite clues were dropped rather infrequently in allusions to the potential for peace, trade, and how each people could benefit from the other. But Raelyn, being sharp-eyed, had not missed the reclusiveness of the Mirza Ghazi Demir. Yet, she'd thought it improper to ask about it, and so had not.

Thus upon the request - and now, upon the man's presence, his stature, carriage, and tone of speech has her features to be that of the more traditional stoic nature that the Cassmoirs had become known for. "We have spent much time together," Raelyn allows, quietly, and in fine manner with one her station. "And you are our guests. If you have a request, please, speak it," she encourages gently enough. The man's difficulty with the words has the Viscountess further curious, but she certainly will not draw attention to it. Yet.

When word had reached Emilia of the request, it was certainly a curiosity given the man's general. It was without any hesitation that Emilia had responded to Raelyn's requet to be present for the meeting. Offering a curtsey respectfully in return, though it is not until after Raelyn has spoken then offering up a simply greeting,"Good of day, Mirza Demir." Speaking the last just a little bit slowly, perhaps to ensure the words are in the right order. Moving to take a seat once Raelyn has sat, and should he accept the invitation, Ghazi as well. Her own time had been a mix of tending to her duties, which included time with the guests and representing the family at the recent tournament in Venderos. As was typical enough for the younger Cassomir, just what she might have picked up or is thinking shows not at all upon the rather solemn bent of her expression.

Stephen Cassomir studies Ghazi intently, marking the man's discomfort as well, but as is typically his way, he remains silent, letting Raelyn do the talking and for the most part making the decisions. He had risen from his seat when the Mirza first entered, but reclaims it alongside Raelyn, his expression as impassive as Ghazi's while the man speaks.

Ghazi Demir seems to consider a moment, then decides to accept the offered chair, his gaze still fixed on Raelyn, "I…apologize." That word isn't quite spat, but it clearly takes effort to speak it once more, "If I have seemed ungrateful for your hospitality. It has all been more than satisfactory. I also fear that your ignorance of my people's ways has…led me to judge you unfairly." He pauses a moment, "I must explain: My people place great stock upon their ancestors. And we believe that unless certain rites are performed, their spirits cannot join the One in his Kingdom, and they are doomed to wander the night-sky in sorrow and rage until put to rest."

"Just over Three-Hundred and Twenty Years ago, my honored ancestor, the Shah Ghassan Demir, was killed in these lands. I do not find fault with the killing…there is no denial that he was an invader in these lands and that your people fought to defend them as is right and just. But tales have been told in my lands ever since that in death, his body was desecrated, and then burned with no ceremony or recognition. Before I speak further, I would ask…would you know these tales to be true?" He looks towards Raelyn intently now, though if anything he seems less angry for the moment.

Raelyn focuses intently on the Ghazi, his words, the way his mannerisms change, and he relaxes. That may make things easier. And, it may not. She can tell this is an issue the man is passionate about. And as he speaks, and the intent of his words become clear she keeps as best she can an impassive face. She listens, until the question is asked. There is a brief glance to the others gathered. The first exchanged with Emilia, the latter with her husband before her eyes move back to focus on the man. "They are true," she says then, admitting it. She does not look proud of the fact, nor does she try to make excuses. The Ghazi had not asked for explination after all, only sought the answer to his question. She nods to her guest then, almost imperceptibly, as if to allow him to continue speak his mind now that his answer was had. This, clearly, was a tipping point. And to speak too much, without knowing his full intent could be disasterous.

The younger Cassomir's expression remains rather unchanged as she listens. Though anyone who had spent any tmie about the young woman would know that was typical. Raelyn's glance is met and Emilia does give a small incline of her head to her sister. They both knew of what he spoke, it was that very series of events that had seen the Huntresses created. It was part of their history, both Cassomir and Huntress. If anything, that stoic expression might soften just briefly, some flicker of understanding perhaps. But she keeps her thoughts to herself, allowing Raelyn's words to hold as was right.

There is a sharp intake of breath from Ghazi, and his eyes close. He lets his breath out slowly, murmuring something in the Alhazred tongue. His eyes open, and he nods, "I thank you for your honesty. Many here in Rivana speak of your house as having great honor. Perhaps such words are not unfounded." He pauses a moment, "Now the more difficult matter: I would request that myself and the Prophet Hashim be escorted to the place where my ancestor fell, that we may be permitted to perform funerary rites and free his spirit that he may seek his place in the beyond." It seems like a simple enough request, but for one thing: The Shah Ghassan Demir was killed in Metalmire…the home of House Cassomir's largest iron mines. There is actually a monument there, more to the bravery of the Huntresses and those that perished in that particular invasion than to any sense of valor to the invaders, of course.

Stephen, not yet being privy to the full history of the Huntresses, does glance towards Raelyn and Emilia both before and after the Shah makes his request, still silent and stoic enough to do his family-by-marriage proud. Of course, he also doesn't know where the fellow in question fell….

"That is a more difficult matter," agrees Raelyn, her lips pulling into a thoughtful frown. Again, she exchanges a look with Emilia, then she looks towards Stephen. "You have been respectful, honorable in your own right. This is a request that will take consideration. I would see your ancestor honored, and this shame of our past corrected. But the place of the fallen is not where we allow our guests to go." The words are quiet, respectful. Weighted. She exchanges a glance to Stephen, who might well get where she is leading with this. Of course, given that the Ghazi is a smart man, he might well understand too. Still, while Raelyn might be one to wear her heart on her sleeve, it seems she's at least learned some Court etiquette and she won't be that blatant to speak of it. "Would you and the Prophet Hashim consent, if this thing can be done, to wearing blindfolds? Forgive me," she says, sounding sincere in her apology, "But, I hope you can also understand my position, should our roles be reversed." She adds, further, "Perhaps it was the One who inspired me to invite you here. If that is the case, then a way shall be provided."

Raelyn looks to both Emilia and then Stephen, to see if they may have other ideas, or suggestions to deal with the sensitive nature, and the inherent need to make amends for the past misdeed of her own ancestors.

Dark eyes gently shift between Raelyn and Ghazi as the exchange is made. The request was simple enough upon face value. Though knowing that it was not as simple, Emilia's gaze does fall to Raelyn a small nod, that hint of understanding showing..least that her sister would recognize. What thoughts might be had are not readily ofered up, not in front of the others. But a nod does come when Raelyn does give a response. "I would of agree, that a way should be of found to properly of honor of your ancester and see that his spirit may be of freed, but as mine-sister has of spoke, it is not of an area that we can readily offer free of access of to."

Stephen glances to Raelyn, then frowns a bit, though as she brings up blindfolds, he tilts his head a moment, considering, "Mirza…let my wife and sister and I speak on this matter, and make the necessary consultations. I believe there may be a way we can arrange this while still honoring the prudency we are tasked with conducting ourselves with."

Ghazi listens to the three of them, eyes falling on each in turn, though he doesn't look angry at the response, "I understand. And yes, I would take much the same precautions, were our situations reversed. I will consult with the Prophet that I may be assured of what is required for the rite to be proper and recognized in the Eyes of the One. So long as it may be done, I will accept any other limitations or restrictions that must be placed upon my person, though I cannot speak on behalf of the Prophet." Given the Prophet's general temperament, however, it seems unlikely that he would object, and may indeed find some amusement in it. "I will await word." He rises to his feet and bows at the waist once more, "And I will leave you to your deliberations. I thank you for hearing me." He touches his forehead, lowering the hand in the gesture most commonly seen from the Prophet, though not unknown from the other members of the delegation, "May you dream of peace this eve." And without further ado, the Mirza turns on his heel and strides back out of the hall with just as much purpose as he entered.

"That…seems like it could have gone much worse." Stephen opines.

It was one of Raelyn's first -real- tests, beyond paperwork and balance sheets, as Viscountess. She waits, until the man has left the hall to let out the held breath in one prolonged, sudden exhale and nods to her husband. "Yes. It could have gone much worse," she agrees. "Perhaps this can go a long way to mending things as well." She looks to her sister, her husband. "Thank you for joining me."

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