The ride to the western edge of Lake Celestine was probably about twice as long as the one to Halamshiral—perhaps even more than that, though the average speed of the smaller party was quite a lot more than one where over a dozen people were marching. This one also involved a great deal less fanfare, which was a relief, to be sure.
About five days after they'd set out from Skyhold, they'd hit the boundary of the small town that housed Lady Marceline's estate. Estella had found the trip to be easy travel; the central-southern region of Orlais was flat plain and gentle hills, dotted with large cottages and what seemed to be vacation homes for nobility. They'd been able to see the buildings of the town proper on the horizon for about an hour and a half before they'd arrived. One or double-storied, mostly, with white siding edged in darker wood, suggesting fresh coats of paint. The clay-tiled roofs were gently-sloped, usually in dark red-brown, with small chimneys tucked to one side or another. It was definitely a smaller town, not on the order of a Lydes or an Arlesans, let alone a Val Fermin, but it seemed to trade on that fact to deliver a sense of quiet intimacy.
The homes they passed bespoke a comfortable average wealth; no doubt a town this size could manage it. It wasn't big enough for an Alienage—most settlements this small barely had elves to begin with, as they tended to congregate together in the locations which would accommodate as much. Indeed, the several people passing by on the street seemed to be universally human, a few offering waves to Lady Marceline or Ser Michaël if they were recognized. The presence of a handful of identifying articles picking the party out as Inquisition didn't seem to pose any of the residents any concern, which was perhaps to be expected.
The streets under Nox's feet were cobblestoned; the horses made a fair amount of noise as they clopped along, but the bustle of activity was just voluminous enough that they weren't uncomfortably loud, blending instead into the quaint music of everyday provincial life. She could smell fresh bread and coffee, the scents no doubt issuing from one of the numerous eateries along the central path. The town square, as it were, was actually circular, paved in the same manner as the roads, with a large fountain set at the center of it, featuring a stylized cluster of three owls, which Estella recognized from Lady Marceline's heraldry. She must have kept it after she married.
In all, it was well-maintained; the air it had was... studied warmth. Picturesque, and a little self-aware in that sort of beauty. Estella wondered for an absurd moment if someone watched all the hedges, lying in wait for one wayward branch to dare ruin the image of tranquil symmetry. No doubt it would be cut at once, and discipline returned in kind. She stifled a snort and decided now was a very good time to venture some sort of conversation, before her thoughts took her even stranger places.
"Does the town have a name?" she asked, aiming the question at the three in the party who might know. "I can't imagine it's just called 'West Bank.'"
Being back in her homeland seemed to have put Lady Marceline in high spirits, and the usual controlled countenance she wore was stripped away and replaced instead by a genuine warmth and fondness. Pride was also present in the way a single corner of her lips fluttered upward, but it was subtle and subdued. She had spent the trip through town with a lingering gaze on the buildings and the gentle rolling hills past them, with a number of larger cottages dotting the landscape beyond. She apparently was so immersed in the vista and the thoughts that it brought that she was momentarily surprised when Estella spoke.
However, it wasn't Marceline that replied. "Coeur-trésor," Pierre answered, tossing a glance at his mother for a moment, before looking back to Estella. "Literally, the heart's treasure," he continued, as Marceline nodded approvingly. "We call it that because we like to think it's a little treasure in the heartland. It's a quiet place, but lovely, as you can see," he finished with a proud smile of his own.
A moment passed before a chuckling broke the silence, from none other than Michaël. "Sounds like someone has been working on their sales pitch. Are you going to try to sell her one of those cottages too?" He said, laughing again, before reaching over his horse and ruffling the young man's hair. Pierre for his part, simply crossed his arms and pouted mockingly. "No, the boy is right. It is a pleasant town, far more scenic than the estate I grew up on in Val Chevin," He added for Estella's benefit.
"Regardless," Marceline finally spoke, "If you do find yourself in desire of a summer cottage, let me know. I am sure we can work out a deal," She said with a humorous smile and a playful wink.
“Smells nice." Khari made the observation while unhooking her mask from the lower half of her face, lifting a hand to her jaw to smooth the slight marks the metal had made on her skin. She dropped her hood, too, exposing her pointed ears with seemingly little concern. “But then I guess sewage isn't really an issue in a place this small. Anyone out here farm, or are you just running a tourist trap?" She grinned, as if to reinforce the light nature of the question. Or maybe she just smiled for the sake of smiling. Khari was more prone to it than most.
"They do," Marceline answered, taking the jest with a smile of her own. "We lease some of the land to the farmers. Mostly grains and orchards--" she paused for a moment to point out a small bakery they passed. The sweet smell of bread and pastries wafted from the shop and lingered as they made their way. "Most of these cafes use local ingredients. That one in particular bakes one of my favorite apple tarts." A want appeared in her eyes for a moment, like she wanted to stop and pick one up that instant, but she apparently decided against it as she tore her attention away from it. No doubt that she would be back later though.
"We, of course, also run our vineyard. Because what is Orlais without its wine?"
Estella had a feeling it was only a matter of time before the wine came up; it was rarer to see Lady Marceline without a glass in-hand than with one, particularly once midday had passed. It might have almost been concerning, but no doubt someone closer to her would have noticed if it were really cause for worry.
Slipping out of the conversation for a moment and allowing it to flow on without her, she dropped Nox back slightly so that she was riding even with Vesryn. He'd been unusually quiet on the trip; it hadn't escaped her that his headache didn't seem to have abated, either. It was part of the reason she'd so readily agreed to go in the first place. She wasn't so naïve as to believe that his problems would be solved by a little fresh air and sunshine, but... surely a bit of a break from constant training couldn't hurt anything.
"Hey," she said softly, leaning back a little so she could sling her far leg over Nox's neck, repositioning herself sideways in her saddle. He was so well-trained that this didn't bother him in the slightest, of course, and he kept on following Khari's roan in front of him. "Copper for your thoughts?"
He smiled back at her, though the expression didn't have its usual enthusiasm. "It's beautiful," he said, apparently choosing to state the obvious. He rode light, and hadn't so much as bothered to bring any of his larger weapons or his shield, or really any of his armor. He hadn't donned it since the day Khari had knocked him unconscious in training. Though he was clearly trying to conceal how he felt, he was no expert at it, and Estella could tell easily enough that the pain was not insignificant, and that it bothered him more often than not. Still, he'd had a few more bright moments since leaving than he had lingering around Skyhold, even if now did not seem to be one of them.
"My apologies for the silence," he said, more for the group at large. "I've just been enjoying the sights here. It's been refreshing to travel without having somewhere to be urgently." His hands momentarily left the reins of his horse, and he flexed and stretched his hands and fingers. "We should have housed the Inquisition here. Probably not as defensible, but much kinder weather, and the proximity to wine... excellent for morale, I'm sure."
Khari snorted. “Not as great for skill. Don't think this would work out so well if we all took the field drunk off our arses." She paused, shooting an obvious glance at Asala. “Unless we wanted to kill them with laughter, I guess."
"Or while naked," Asala added innocently, though it only took a moment to reveal that she was valiantly attempting to fight off a grin. A fight she was very obviously losing.
Soon after, the path they followed led them out of the little town and down along another rustic road. Eventually, the fields on either side of the party slowly morphed from gentle rolling hill to hills striped with rows upon rows of grape vineyards. Every so often they could pick out an individual in the distance still tending to the vines, a few even pausing in their work to gawk at them. Once they realized who they watched however, they soon waved which was soon mirrored by Marceline or either Michaël or Pierre.
A few minutes more, and what had to be Marceline's familial estate appeared in the distance. It had the same design as the cottages that had dotted the landscape on the way into town, only... more. A large gateway led into the estate grounds proper, the lettering above made out of wrought iron spelling out Lecuyer Vineyards. Below the lettering, what had to had been their coat of arms was impressed upon even more black iron. An owl perched atop a shield with a vine of grapes wrapping around the base.
The grounds itself felt rustic in nature, but still managed a regal air. The home itself was large, containing who knew how many rooms. A flight of stairs led onto a porch, a row of white marble columns holding up a balcony above. Vines and ivy clung to the marble and brick, causing the home to feel cozy, in spite of its size. Off to the side, a stable waited, that also led out into a clearing-- where a couple of horses could be seen lazily grazing.
Once they crossed through the gate, they were greeted first by a few stable hands emerging from the stables. "Milord, Milady," the oldest one among them greeted, taking both Marceline's and Michaël's reins in his hands.
"Take care of them, Felix. They've had a long journey," Michaël asked, swinging off of his horse and landing on the ground with a solid thud. He then moved to his wife, and where he aided her off of her horse.
Felix chuckled and nodded, "Aye ser, there won't be a more pampered creature than these horses, on my word." The rest of the stable hands also set about their tasks of gathering the horses of the others. They were not the only ones who had come to greet them however. From atop the stairs that led into the house, an older pair watched. Pierre sent a excited wave their direction, which they of course returned and took as their cue to approach.
The man they recognized as Marceline's father. Now that he was out of his armor and he wasn't covered in blood, Lucas seemed far healthier than he had when they first met him. He still walked with slight limp as he approached, but he appeared to be trying his best to hide it. The woman, on the other hand, they had not met, but stood to reason was Marceline's mother, if nothing more than the similarities between them.
Once upon a time, her dark silver hair appeared to have been the same color as Marceline's, though they had matching blue ocean eyes-- age hadn't yet stolen their spark. A thin smile spread across her lips, which only grew as Pierre approached and wrapped her in a hug. "What did I tell you about growing, hm?" she asked, returning the hug, "Not without my permission." She added with a warm laugh.
Lucas on the other hand received a hug from Marceline instead. "It is good to see you are well father. I hope you have been resting," she asked, pulling back from. He opened his mouth to answer, but had his wife answer for him instead.
"Of course he hasn't. Rest doesn't suit him," she said, coming to stand beside him, answering a hug from Marceline as well. "You should know, you get it from him."
Lucas smiled and shrugged. "She is not wrong, rest doesn't suit me, I'm afraid. Idle hands, and all that," he answered, ruffling Pierre's hair as he spoke.
Marceline then then turned toward the rest of her party, "Let me introduce you all," she said, gesturing toward her parents. "These are my parents. Some of you have already met my father, Lucas, and this is my mother, Gabrielle," she said, both inclining their head as they were introduced.
Estella let a little smile linger on her face, a polite one, and curtsied a bit by way of introduction. "Nice to meet you." It was, after all, her first time becoming acquainted with both of them. "I'm Estella, and these are my friends. Vesryn, Khari, and Asala." She straightened, tilting her head to the side. "You've a lovely home. Thank you so much for allowing us to stay here."
Lady Gabrielle shook her head at that, raising her hand perhaps in an effort to ward off any more compliments or thanks. "No thanks necessary, Marcy insisted that our home is your home for the duration of your stay, and I agreed," she said warmly, before turning to nod in greeting to the others. "Come, surely you are tired from the trip here? We will show you to your rooms."
About five days after they'd set out from Skyhold, they'd hit the boundary of the small town that housed Lady Marceline's estate. Estella had found the trip to be easy travel; the central-southern region of Orlais was flat plain and gentle hills, dotted with large cottages and what seemed to be vacation homes for nobility. They'd been able to see the buildings of the town proper on the horizon for about an hour and a half before they'd arrived. One or double-storied, mostly, with white siding edged in darker wood, suggesting fresh coats of paint. The clay-tiled roofs were gently-sloped, usually in dark red-brown, with small chimneys tucked to one side or another. It was definitely a smaller town, not on the order of a Lydes or an Arlesans, let alone a Val Fermin, but it seemed to trade on that fact to deliver a sense of quiet intimacy.
The homes they passed bespoke a comfortable average wealth; no doubt a town this size could manage it. It wasn't big enough for an Alienage—most settlements this small barely had elves to begin with, as they tended to congregate together in the locations which would accommodate as much. Indeed, the several people passing by on the street seemed to be universally human, a few offering waves to Lady Marceline or Ser Michaël if they were recognized. The presence of a handful of identifying articles picking the party out as Inquisition didn't seem to pose any of the residents any concern, which was perhaps to be expected.
The streets under Nox's feet were cobblestoned; the horses made a fair amount of noise as they clopped along, but the bustle of activity was just voluminous enough that they weren't uncomfortably loud, blending instead into the quaint music of everyday provincial life. She could smell fresh bread and coffee, the scents no doubt issuing from one of the numerous eateries along the central path. The town square, as it were, was actually circular, paved in the same manner as the roads, with a large fountain set at the center of it, featuring a stylized cluster of three owls, which Estella recognized from Lady Marceline's heraldry. She must have kept it after she married.
In all, it was well-maintained; the air it had was... studied warmth. Picturesque, and a little self-aware in that sort of beauty. Estella wondered for an absurd moment if someone watched all the hedges, lying in wait for one wayward branch to dare ruin the image of tranquil symmetry. No doubt it would be cut at once, and discipline returned in kind. She stifled a snort and decided now was a very good time to venture some sort of conversation, before her thoughts took her even stranger places.
"Does the town have a name?" she asked, aiming the question at the three in the party who might know. "I can't imagine it's just called 'West Bank.'"
Being back in her homeland seemed to have put Lady Marceline in high spirits, and the usual controlled countenance she wore was stripped away and replaced instead by a genuine warmth and fondness. Pride was also present in the way a single corner of her lips fluttered upward, but it was subtle and subdued. She had spent the trip through town with a lingering gaze on the buildings and the gentle rolling hills past them, with a number of larger cottages dotting the landscape beyond. She apparently was so immersed in the vista and the thoughts that it brought that she was momentarily surprised when Estella spoke.
However, it wasn't Marceline that replied. "Coeur-trésor," Pierre answered, tossing a glance at his mother for a moment, before looking back to Estella. "Literally, the heart's treasure," he continued, as Marceline nodded approvingly. "We call it that because we like to think it's a little treasure in the heartland. It's a quiet place, but lovely, as you can see," he finished with a proud smile of his own.
A moment passed before a chuckling broke the silence, from none other than Michaël. "Sounds like someone has been working on their sales pitch. Are you going to try to sell her one of those cottages too?" He said, laughing again, before reaching over his horse and ruffling the young man's hair. Pierre for his part, simply crossed his arms and pouted mockingly. "No, the boy is right. It is a pleasant town, far more scenic than the estate I grew up on in Val Chevin," He added for Estella's benefit.
"Regardless," Marceline finally spoke, "If you do find yourself in desire of a summer cottage, let me know. I am sure we can work out a deal," She said with a humorous smile and a playful wink.
“Smells nice." Khari made the observation while unhooking her mask from the lower half of her face, lifting a hand to her jaw to smooth the slight marks the metal had made on her skin. She dropped her hood, too, exposing her pointed ears with seemingly little concern. “But then I guess sewage isn't really an issue in a place this small. Anyone out here farm, or are you just running a tourist trap?" She grinned, as if to reinforce the light nature of the question. Or maybe she just smiled for the sake of smiling. Khari was more prone to it than most.
"They do," Marceline answered, taking the jest with a smile of her own. "We lease some of the land to the farmers. Mostly grains and orchards--" she paused for a moment to point out a small bakery they passed. The sweet smell of bread and pastries wafted from the shop and lingered as they made their way. "Most of these cafes use local ingredients. That one in particular bakes one of my favorite apple tarts." A want appeared in her eyes for a moment, like she wanted to stop and pick one up that instant, but she apparently decided against it as she tore her attention away from it. No doubt that she would be back later though.
"We, of course, also run our vineyard. Because what is Orlais without its wine?"
Estella had a feeling it was only a matter of time before the wine came up; it was rarer to see Lady Marceline without a glass in-hand than with one, particularly once midday had passed. It might have almost been concerning, but no doubt someone closer to her would have noticed if it were really cause for worry.
Slipping out of the conversation for a moment and allowing it to flow on without her, she dropped Nox back slightly so that she was riding even with Vesryn. He'd been unusually quiet on the trip; it hadn't escaped her that his headache didn't seem to have abated, either. It was part of the reason she'd so readily agreed to go in the first place. She wasn't so naïve as to believe that his problems would be solved by a little fresh air and sunshine, but... surely a bit of a break from constant training couldn't hurt anything.
"Hey," she said softly, leaning back a little so she could sling her far leg over Nox's neck, repositioning herself sideways in her saddle. He was so well-trained that this didn't bother him in the slightest, of course, and he kept on following Khari's roan in front of him. "Copper for your thoughts?"
He smiled back at her, though the expression didn't have its usual enthusiasm. "It's beautiful," he said, apparently choosing to state the obvious. He rode light, and hadn't so much as bothered to bring any of his larger weapons or his shield, or really any of his armor. He hadn't donned it since the day Khari had knocked him unconscious in training. Though he was clearly trying to conceal how he felt, he was no expert at it, and Estella could tell easily enough that the pain was not insignificant, and that it bothered him more often than not. Still, he'd had a few more bright moments since leaving than he had lingering around Skyhold, even if now did not seem to be one of them.
"My apologies for the silence," he said, more for the group at large. "I've just been enjoying the sights here. It's been refreshing to travel without having somewhere to be urgently." His hands momentarily left the reins of his horse, and he flexed and stretched his hands and fingers. "We should have housed the Inquisition here. Probably not as defensible, but much kinder weather, and the proximity to wine... excellent for morale, I'm sure."
Khari snorted. “Not as great for skill. Don't think this would work out so well if we all took the field drunk off our arses." She paused, shooting an obvious glance at Asala. “Unless we wanted to kill them with laughter, I guess."
"Or while naked," Asala added innocently, though it only took a moment to reveal that she was valiantly attempting to fight off a grin. A fight she was very obviously losing.
Soon after, the path they followed led them out of the little town and down along another rustic road. Eventually, the fields on either side of the party slowly morphed from gentle rolling hill to hills striped with rows upon rows of grape vineyards. Every so often they could pick out an individual in the distance still tending to the vines, a few even pausing in their work to gawk at them. Once they realized who they watched however, they soon waved which was soon mirrored by Marceline or either Michaël or Pierre.
A few minutes more, and what had to be Marceline's familial estate appeared in the distance. It had the same design as the cottages that had dotted the landscape on the way into town, only... more. A large gateway led into the estate grounds proper, the lettering above made out of wrought iron spelling out Lecuyer Vineyards. Below the lettering, what had to had been their coat of arms was impressed upon even more black iron. An owl perched atop a shield with a vine of grapes wrapping around the base.
The grounds itself felt rustic in nature, but still managed a regal air. The home itself was large, containing who knew how many rooms. A flight of stairs led onto a porch, a row of white marble columns holding up a balcony above. Vines and ivy clung to the marble and brick, causing the home to feel cozy, in spite of its size. Off to the side, a stable waited, that also led out into a clearing-- where a couple of horses could be seen lazily grazing.
Once they crossed through the gate, they were greeted first by a few stable hands emerging from the stables. "Milord, Milady," the oldest one among them greeted, taking both Marceline's and Michaël's reins in his hands.
"Take care of them, Felix. They've had a long journey," Michaël asked, swinging off of his horse and landing on the ground with a solid thud. He then moved to his wife, and where he aided her off of her horse.
Felix chuckled and nodded, "Aye ser, there won't be a more pampered creature than these horses, on my word." The rest of the stable hands also set about their tasks of gathering the horses of the others. They were not the only ones who had come to greet them however. From atop the stairs that led into the house, an older pair watched. Pierre sent a excited wave their direction, which they of course returned and took as their cue to approach.
The man they recognized as Marceline's father. Now that he was out of his armor and he wasn't covered in blood, Lucas seemed far healthier than he had when they first met him. He still walked with slight limp as he approached, but he appeared to be trying his best to hide it. The woman, on the other hand, they had not met, but stood to reason was Marceline's mother, if nothing more than the similarities between them.
Once upon a time, her dark silver hair appeared to have been the same color as Marceline's, though they had matching blue ocean eyes-- age hadn't yet stolen their spark. A thin smile spread across her lips, which only grew as Pierre approached and wrapped her in a hug. "What did I tell you about growing, hm?" she asked, returning the hug, "Not without my permission." She added with a warm laugh.
Lucas on the other hand received a hug from Marceline instead. "It is good to see you are well father. I hope you have been resting," she asked, pulling back from. He opened his mouth to answer, but had his wife answer for him instead.
"Of course he hasn't. Rest doesn't suit him," she said, coming to stand beside him, answering a hug from Marceline as well. "You should know, you get it from him."
Lucas smiled and shrugged. "She is not wrong, rest doesn't suit me, I'm afraid. Idle hands, and all that," he answered, ruffling Pierre's hair as he spoke.
Marceline then then turned toward the rest of her party, "Let me introduce you all," she said, gesturing toward her parents. "These are my parents. Some of you have already met my father, Lucas, and this is my mother, Gabrielle," she said, both inclining their head as they were introduced.
Estella let a little smile linger on her face, a polite one, and curtsied a bit by way of introduction. "Nice to meet you." It was, after all, her first time becoming acquainted with both of them. "I'm Estella, and these are my friends. Vesryn, Khari, and Asala." She straightened, tilting her head to the side. "You've a lovely home. Thank you so much for allowing us to stay here."
Lady Gabrielle shook her head at that, raising her hand perhaps in an effort to ward off any more compliments or thanks. "No thanks necessary, Marcy insisted that our home is your home for the duration of your stay, and I agreed," she said warmly, before turning to nod in greeting to the others. "Come, surely you are tired from the trip here? We will show you to your rooms."