1278/Green Thumb Tanuki

Green Thumb Tanuki
Date of Scene:	06 January 2015
Location:	Dun Realtai
Synopsis:	Yunomi visits Dun Realtai to discuss plans for a greenhouse.
Cast of Characters:	272, 303, 482

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Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Welcome to Dun Realtai. Although it was a bleak place in autumn, winter seems to paint this place with an especially bleak brush. Barren ground has given way to deep snow drifts, piled high beneath leaden skies. More snow promises to come, and the air is so cold and crisp it almost hurts to be exposed to it – for the more modern, the temperature is easily hovering near zero.

Somehow, Bedivere knew it was going to be a harsh winter unlike anything in Camelot, but even he hadn't been expecting this kind of nonsense.

He's been spending the day... sleeping, uncharacteristically. It's too cold to do anything else, and he's still healing from the wounds he'd sustained at Odin's hand; slower than most Elites by far to heal. He also has the matter of so much lost sleep to recover from, in the years after Camlann, which is just another toll on his much-abused body. He should be in his prime, but some days it seems as though his broken body is good for very little.

Still, he's grateful for the rest, and his king has been plying him with drugged tea to ensure he stays asleep, and recovers. Sometimes, the best thing there is for anything is rest – and the weather is perfect for that.

That probably explains why when Yunomi arrives – she'll find that servants let her into the great hall, where a fire roars in the hall's enormous hearth – that Bedivere doesn't arrive right away. It takes him several moments to untangle himself from his blankets, untangle himself from his king, and then find something warmer to wear than peasant clothing, because even inside the castle it's cold, unpleasantly so, away from the hearths.

So it is that the knight eventually makes his way down the stairs, having made himself presentable; somewhere he'd managed to find modern clothing, pulling on a heavy, subtly-patterened sweater and jeans, as well as boots, because only an idiot wanders around a stone-paved castle barefoot in winter.

He's left his hair down, although it looks combed, and it's quite a bit longer than it might seem; enough that he has to give his head an irritated toss on the way down the stairs to clear it from his eyes.

"Ah, Lady Stadler." His voice is as soft as ever, and also husky; he's not really awake, and it's a bit obvious. He does manage a smile, though. Notably, one hand is held over his front and side, and it stays there once he's descended the stairs, suggesting it still pains him. "Be welcome; please, warm yourself by the fire. I am sorry; I have been good for little these past weeks."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi arrives her usual way, descending from the bleak wintery sky with puffs of steam coming from her scarf. She's bundled up, a heavy hood drawn up over her head as she makes her way down along the great tree in the courtyard, circling through its branches as if to say hello before flitting over the deep snowdrifts, and settling at the enterence of the hall, shaking snow off her boots – some of it in prismatic shades from her previous encounter with winter this afternoon, and gives a smile to the servants as she's let in. She allows her heavy mantle to be taken off, showing the brilliant reds and blues of her bangs, fading to the deep, rich burnt browns of her natural haircolor. She keeps a large folio of papers under one arm, and goes to stand by the fire to warm her chilly hands.

Fingerless gloves look cool, but man, do your fingertips get cold!

The calm in the hall was soothing, different from the usual Izzet backdrop of hammers ringing and the chaos of the magewrights of her guild. Her fingertips spread out, reaching for the warmth of the flame – and then she hears the decent of the good 'lord of the land' on the stairs, and she turns to greet him. Her smile is warm, spreading across her face as she gives a bow to Bedivere.

"I thank you for your warmth and your time, Sir Bedivere... and trust me." she gives a soft, understanding smile. "I know the feeling of needing rest... if you would rather another time to meet with me over the plans, I can certainly leave my drawings in your care and return when you are feeling stronger, my friend."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Long strides take the pale-haired knight in front of the fire, warming his hands before it as well. He may not have gone outside, but the stone stairwell isn't much better than the deep freeze outside.

He really would have preferred someplace much warmer than this, but beggars can hardly be choosers, and for good or for ill this place is now his home.

"I hope the trip was not too cold for you. I fear the winter here has some teeth to it, and that is with Lady Alaia helping mitigate the worst of its effects. A favour to her people, I think, that they might survive in such a harsh place." He shakes his head, rubbing his hands and shivering slightly. "No, think nothing of it. You may call on me any time, and there are not many I would say that to. Better to have these details ready, that we may begin construction when we are ready..."

He has the good grace to at least cover his mouth when he yawns, hugely; too tired to stifle it properly. His head feels like it's in a fog, and briefly he considers asking Arturia not to drug his tea quite so much. If he does need to be awake, it wouldn't do to be so foggy-headed. He was never fond of that sensation.

"Let's have a look at those, then," the knight of Dál Riata finally manages, with a half-smile. "Do not worry about me. Perhaps Odin gave me a thrashing I'd not soon forget, but it will take more than that to put me down. In the meantime, the work that needs doing here will wait for no one."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"Telling someone not to worry about you seems to be the first thing that causes people to have concern." Yunomi gives a smile, and she leans back a moment on her heels as she watches him, trying to decide to take her own leave or not.

She's come so far, she decides to stay, and show off what she has. At the smile, she returns the look, a sort of clumsy half-smile on her face before she turns back to the table, and begins to lay sheafs of paper out. She's in the possession of a good eye; detailed plans of the south walls of the keep are shown, with optimal places to put the green house's footstep running from south to around the west corner, with numbles and careful script detailing what plants should go where, along with a small picture of the medicinal herb, fruit, or vegetable – in case there might be someone who can't read her looping script.

As she lays each one out, she counts, and then she brings her right hand up, closes her eyes, and lets blue mana circle it once – and then she splays her fingers.

Like inks spreading over water, the magic trails in a hazy sort of smoke over her drawings, and then the drawings rise up, in a translucent three-dimensional diorama of different designs. They range from steel and industrial glass, listing the materials with ghostly letters in the air, to organic substitutes, trees grown and bending over, cascading down from the parapets of the keep to the ground in organic butresses, branches heavy laden with fruit or flowering vines.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The knight sighs, reaching up and rubbing the back of his neck in decidedly un-knightly gesture. Every so often there are hints that he's something a little less than the dutiful marshal or the stern and unyielding knight that once served an integral role within King Arthur's court. Traces, here and there; small tells, suggestive of the shy and slightly awkward man behind the armour and the mask... such as his uncomfortable expression when Yunomi mentions people worrying about him.

"Truly," he says, as though he were genuinely unsettled at the notion. "I am fine. Perhaps I am not fit for battle, at the moment, but I am healing..." Fortunately, he's more than happy to let that particular subject go.

Bedivere follows the tanuki to the table, looking on with interest as she spreads out her sheaf of papers. He studies them with keen interest and an expert's eye, though he does seem to have some trouble parsing Yunomi's script – not because it isn't meticulously neat, but because the language isn't one that he understands. Although he knows Irish and Welsh, he only knows the ancient forms of both. It's not something one runs across too often in the Union.

Before he has a chance to point at a page and ask, he's left pointing at the nearest page with his jaw hanging open as they suddenly spring to life. Mouth still hanging open, he looks from the model to the page and back to the model again, and then after a moment he remembers to close his mouth; and then he finally remembers to drop his pointing arm.

Witchcraft, he tells himself; even as a small voice in the back of his mind reminds him that he has no right to spurn such things any longer.

He still looks a bit unsettled, and after a moment slowly eases himself down onto a bench, grimacing slightly and holding his side with his arm. It's not a raw wound any more, nor is he even in bandages, but the pain will take some time to fade. "Impressive," he finally manages, still staring a little blankly at the model. "Quite impressive."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi blinks as Bedivere's mouth hangs open, and she blinks, and then sheepishly, she rubs the back of her neck, her shoulders rising. "I apologize, Sir Bedivere – sometimes I get so used to Ravnica that... I forget not everyone is used to my... ah... talents." she states. She gives a cough, to clear her throat. "I should have warned you." she adds, softly, and she takes a deep breath, and coguhs into her hand.

"As you can see, I took into account several designs for the greenhouse itself, ranging from traditional and Victorian-era ... that would be the late 1800's in London, England, where iron and glass and the industrial look was in – to more organic means, as a way to preserve medicinal herbs and fresh fruits and vegetables. I've conferred with some gardening specialists in Ravnica, as well as several mundane books for varieties of fruit that would do well in cold boxes outside the keep as well as varieties of tree and vine that would do well in the a vertical style gardening situation, nestled against the keep wall and accessable by ladders." Yunomi begins, and she brings up one of the display greenhouses, bringing her hands up to it, and then 'pulling' at it to make it bigger.

Bedivere may not be able to read Japanese, but he could clearly see the fruits and herbs growing in the boxes, so detail is the display.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"No, no. Do not apologise." Bedivere shakes his head, raising his hands in pacifying gesture. The movement briefly bares the command seal on his left hand. "In truth, Master Merlin is capable of such things, I have no doubt. But it is still... unusual, to me, to display such things openly."

Merlin was the great open secret of the court; that the wizard was the king's advisor, but some still thought he was only a wise old fool instead of the magician he was. More the fool they, if that was all they thought Merlin was.

He tilts his head, looking down at the greenhouse designs thoughtfully. "Good. What kind of scale would you be able to produce with this? Enough to feed the entirety of the village? I would estimate there are... mm. Less than three hundred, at present. Less than two, actually; when this place fell under attack, I would say the population was decimated. These lands would be capable of supporting many more than who survives here."

The knight cants his head slightly to one side, studying the diagram, before finally pointing to what looks like a tomato. "What... is that?"

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"With cold boxes for more hardy vegetables and roots in the keep or around the village, I could boost production with my powers with a weekly trip that would proide fresh fruits and vegetables to keep everyone in the village fed with minimal effort; just basically to keep the plants at full production and enable to get a reasonable store for drying and preserving in case something happens and I can't make it out, but not much in the way of grains. Unfortunately until the weather clears, grains and the repair of the earth outside the keep will have to wait. All the more reason to get these started as soon as possible." Yunomi replies, and she blinks. And she tilts her head, and looks at the fruit.

"OH! It's a tomato – ah, a new world fruit, from the Americas. It's an edible berry that's part of the nightshade family. It's robust and juicy, and ranges from sweet to tart, and I can produce cold-hardy varieties."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The description of where it comes from doesn't seem to help the knight very much, but at least there's some recognition. He knows where America is, and there are a few different instances of such that he's had occasion to visit. (In most cases, he decided fairly early on that he preferred Dun Realtai, or Wales, or even Dál Riata. Modern cities just don't agree with him.)

"Tomato." Bedivere repeats the unfamiliar term a little awkwardly, leaning closer and squinting at the thing. "Hm. That would be helpful, aye; cold-weather strains."

Folding his arms, he straightens, regarding the model from an angle, his head canted to one side. His expression is calm, but if Arturia were present, she might know that such regard is his way of expressing that he's a little dubious. Normally he looks at things straight-on. "Hmmm. And you are certain such a thing would withstand the cold? As you can see, winter here is fierce, fiercer than anyplace else I have ever known..."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"No colder than the winters I'm used to in Japan." Yunomi gives a smile. "Or in Maryland, for that matter." she shuffles a few papers, and begins to show numbers and displays. "By my calculations, with only the sun and insulatative glass, the greenhouses should maintain temperatures to about eight degrees celcius – or about a paticularly chilly fall day – even with several days of no sun ... provided the vents aren't opened and let in the cold." the tanuki replies, one of her ears giving a wiggle as she considers. "It's well enough above freezing that most of the plants shouldn't be affected too strongly by the chill. And if it becomes an issue, I could always suggest a wood-burning furnace to suppliment the heat." she replies, and she waggles her fingers a moment, considering different fruit that would be able to withstand the cold outside.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Hoh?" The knight raises a pale brow, regarding Yunomi somewhat dubiously. "Your winters must be cold, then. Camelot did not have snows so high, or cold so fierce, although conditions were worse." His expression darkens. "The poor always suffered the most; the nights to freeze were the ones that many did not awaken from. And that is not even including the Saxon raids... winter was a treacherous time in Camelot."

His attention turns back to the diagrams, listening to her advice. Installing a furnace would be wise, considering how much of a threat the cold will be. The fact that such a structure can be built at all is still a thing of wonder, to him, and it shows in his expression that he's almost giddy over that prospect. Imagine – fresh fruit for the people in the dead of winter.

Part of him almost considers waking Arturia just to tell her this, but the rest of him wisely decides to let sleeping lionesses lie. She needs her rest as much as he needs his, and it isn't as though any of this is actually built just yet.

He forces himself to focus once more, violet eyes flicking to the diagrams. "Hmm. Do not worry about the grain, to return to an earlier point. If you and your magic can help me to sort out the fields, once spring has come, we should be able to regrow crops. These hills would be well-suited to barley and wheat, once the days are longer and the nights warmer." He folds one hand over his chest, the other rising to crook his index finger over his upper lip in thoughtful gesture. "Actually, I wanted to talk to you about that, as well."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"Yes. There are winter walking shoes, which have platforms sometimes as high as even your knee." Yunomi replies, "And that is for when the snow was gentle." She boasts, but there's a friendly sort of smile to her face before she turns back to the diagrams. The tanuki was paticularly proud of the displays – it took her weeks to get them right. At the crooked finger and thoughtful gesture, Yunomi's brows rise up and her ears prick up, giving him her undivided attention. In one of the displays, a tree goes to flower, white and red blossoms opening up in miniature.

"About fixing the land around here?" she inquires, leaning back on her heels.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Hm." Bedivere glances down, as though to gauge a shoe platform at his knee's height. Evidently he decides it's not worth the effort of imagining it, and that it must be both horribly impractical and also really silly-looking. "Perhaps it did not always fall deep, but it was harsh in Camelot all the same. Those who lacked suffered the most."

The way he says that suggests he took every one of those casualties and struggles personally; and much like Arturia, he did.

He regards the display with narrowed eyes. "Yes. It is my intention to raise barley and wheat in these hills, once the winter is passed. Do you think that you could use your talents to heal the damage? The earth and soil are barren, here, and I do not think that seeds alone would grow, but it would take more time than can be afforded to restore the soil, I think."

Violet eyes flick to Yunomi, thoughtful. "Hmm. Is that something within the realm of your capabilities, do you think...?"

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"... the ones who have the least often do suffer the most... but... that's not going to be the case here in Dun Realti. All you have to do is say the word, and I will come running." Yunomi replies, and she leans back. ">.. what I should do now is do a cover crop. Alfalfa, clover, something to plow into the earth and give it some respite, stuff that grows easily." she ventures, and she sits down. She begins to map out the lay of the land, starting with the hsape of the keep and its walls on a peice of paper, using her fingertip to draw blue-gray line for buildings, and concentric circles from hills. Dun Realti from above, a tanuki's eye view.

"Can I make the foodcrops grow? Yes. It will take time... and I might have to set up managenerators and converters to give me more 'oomf' to repair the ground and force the crops to grow better, but it might take years of cover crops and rains between making the crops grow to make them... self-sufficient I suppose is the right word."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"It has not been the case thus far. There are plenty of resources to last the winter, and supplies last much longer when there are fewer ways in which they must be divided." Bedivere rests his arms on the table, resting his head on his folded arms as he regards the diagram thoughtfully through hooded eyes. He still looks tired; the subtle light of the display casts shadows beneath his eyes. "Hmm."

"Cover crops." That's a wise enough notion, and if there were more time, it might be a good recommendation. "I do not know that there is enough time. Our current foodstores will last only through the winter. That does not include the time to grow a harvest before the real harvest. Not before the stores run out."

He narrows his eyes, considering. "And I agree, which is why I ask. I would prefer to do things... naturally, but that requires time that I fear we do not have." His fingers drum, considering. "I think that your 'mana' will be the best method, in this case. We must repair the soil as quickly as can be done... though I would not mind seeing clover." He smiles, a little faintly. "It grew well, in Dál Riata, though I sometimes had to range far afield to find it. The village in which I was raised was remote, and nestled in rocky cliffs on the sea."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi gives a little smile. "The village of Namamura was at the harbor of the Nama river, where the river met the sea there were harsh, pebbly beeches and sun-bleached trees whose roots had found salt water. There were yokai, like me, that made their homes high on the rocks in the tiny, twisted trees that grew in the crevases there..." Yunomi gives a wistful smile. "So clearly can we see home in our mind's eye, ne?" she questions to him. And then gives a grin. "I could grow you clover, right now. A carpet of fresh clover in the main hall to warf off the cold of the stones. It would be a wonder." she teases.

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Dál Riata was never home to me, truly." The knight's violet eyes slide to the fire, lidding. "I was born and raised there, but it never felt home. Not like this place does. True, I miss certain details, sometimes, but... this place is my home. I feel more... more at ease here than I ever did in Dál Riata, or Camelot."

Truly, Camelot was less a home to him, and almost a prison; a cage of his duties and the impossible dream that had both sustained and cursed him.

"Hm?" He raises a brow at her teasing, almost alarmed for an instant before he seems to realise that she is, in fact, teasing. "Oh. N-no, Lady, do not trouble yourself. I do not think it would survive; clover is most resilient, but its roots would find no nourishment in solid stone."

He looks up and out, as though his eyes were piercing the solid stone of the citadel. "But if some could be grown, to soften some of the fields, and restore the hills..." He offers a faint, almost shy smile. "I would be much obliged for such a thing, Lady." Bedivere looks to Yunomi again, voice dipping down low. "Actually, I have but one more request, for those places that will not be sown or harvested..."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi sits down at the table, and her ears relax, her tail goes limp a bit, and she takes a deep breath, remembering her many homes.

And she looks to the fire, roaring in its confines of the hearth.

"Name it, Sir Bedivere, and it will be done. You brought solace to my spirit in a way that burrying myself in my work hasn't." she turns back to him, brown eyes settling on the thin form of the knight.

"When I lost Namamura, everyone wanted to talk at me. They wanted to say how smart I was, how great I was, every platitude under the sun for the sake of letting me know that I was wonderful..." she leans back a moment, and glances back to the fire. "... you listen to me and offer me counsel, but not emptiness. That's a balm that there is no value gold or fresh produce could provide... so you name it, and I will do everything in my power to make it happen."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
Bedivere looks off to the fire as Yunomi does, regarding it silently. While the warmth is a comfort, sometimes he sees something else when he stares into the embers – swirling embers behind a black sky, and the flash of steel. His eyes close; he has no wish to go back to that place just now.

"Gold? I would not ask so much of you." He shakes his head, faintly. "Nor do these people have especial need of such a thing, nor desire for it. A steady harvest; that is what they want, that they might not starve the next winter, or be forced to slaughter and eat their own draught animals. And the ease of mind of a good harvest is what I want for them, as well."

Perhaps some kingdoms might be content to conjure gold out of the aether, but he is not so foolish a ruler as that. Wealth comes in other, very different forms, as far as he's concerned.

"Are you familiar with a plant called the lily-of-the-valley?" he asks, softly. "It is a flower native to the region Camelot was in... quite a beautiful flower, and it has some medicinal value, as well; although it can be poisonous, unchecked. But the flowers are beautiful in the mist of a spring morning with the sun just beginning to rise over the fields..."

His eyes flick to the empty shadows of the hall, and after a moment he allows himself a hesitant smile, dropping his voice conspirationally. "More truthfully, my king is fond of them. I should like to offer her something to brighten her spring, if it is not to much to ask. But I understand, if not; it is simply a foolish thing..."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"To wish a little happiness for someone else? Foolish? Peh. Then I've been foolish this whole time through, Bedivere." Yunomi chides gently, reaching up to put a hand to the tall man's shoulder.

"What places aren't made for food crops or for animal fodder, I will see if I cannot make some of the lillies of the valley bloom." she smiles.

"And any other flower you should want... clover included."

Loros (303) has posed:
There is the thump and howl of wind that heralds a door opening in the precincts of the castle closer to the outdoors. Soon followed by the heavy thumping of someone jamming that said door closed.

A few moments later a heavily cloaked and hunched over figure thumps into the hall, leaning on a staff. The top cloak appears to be made almost entirely out of the skin of a dark furred feline of some sort.

Master Sorol, or rather, Loros in his 'Old Wizened Guest' disguise thumps his way over to one of the fires, tucking the staff in close as he holds his hands out towards the blaze. "Miserable weather."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Ah, no. It is a foolish thing. The welfare of the people must come first; forget that I asked." Bedivere smiles that soft, slightly self-derisive smile and shakes his head faintly. "Better to focus on the crops. Perhaps something else will grow here, once the land is restored, something of equal value."

Of course, one wonders what they would reseed from. As it is now, the land is dead and barren. Even before the snow fell, something had destroyed the vegetation, and the wildlife had fled. Part of him misses the sound of birdsong.

"But... thank you—"

The door bangs open. Bedivere glances over, raising his brows at the sight of a traveller staggering into the castle and then barring the door shut again. And then in comes a hunched figure that looks... a little familiar, actually, but on the tip of his tongue. Is Merlin playing him for a fool? No, Merlin would be more direct than to come into the hall in disguise. A traveller? He must have come well out of his way to come here, if so...

Bedivere is already on his feet and offering the traveller a place by the fire, moving to steer Old Wizard Loros over to the room's single broad hearth. "Come, warm yourself by the fire." Those violet eyes linger on the old man while he's standing near, though, piercing; and perhaps he suspects that 'Sorol' is visiting once more.

Heh.

"I will not argue that point. May I offer you something? Water? Tea? Wine, perhaps, to put a little fire in your blood on such a cold night? There is mead, as well." Where it came from, he can't fathom, but there it was in the cellar one night when he was taking inventory. He almost suspects Merlin. "What brings you to this barren place?"

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Quickchange. With the thump, the demonstrations and magical display of the various greenhouses sink back to their paper in a soft puff, and Yunomi's ears and tail vanish in an instant, replaced by human ears and a very-much un-tailed backside. She draws to a stand – after all, it's terribly impolite to be seated if someone higher rank than you is walking in, that much she knew, and she turns to regard the stranger, dark eyes setting on the strange cloak he wears, her head tilting a moment – but she can't place it.

Yunomi does give a friendly smile though. "Awful weather." she agrees, and turns to Bedivere as the older knight and lord of the castle offers sustenence. She goes to clear some of her greenhouse plans away from the table, surrendering her place by the fire for the stranger to warm his bones. "Here, take this spot – it's the warmest, I think." she offers to the traveler with a gentle tone.

Loros (303) has posed:
The old man waves off the offering of refreshment with a soft chuckle, returning his hands to their position wrapped around his staff.

"Why, Lord Bedivere, it is your hospitality that brings me here, as before. This isn't even really a test, I'm just trying to avoid alarming the villagers and servants overmuch." Turning his gaze to the young woman, his eyes seem to twinkle for a moment as he regards her. "And thank you, young lady. I think I will, if it doesn't interrupt your conversation."

Thumping over to the offered spot, he settles down into slowly. "Might a rather old man inquire as to the discussion my arrival disrupted?"

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Oh." The knight seems to deflate, just a little. Indeed, he blinks owlishly at the old man, squinting as he studies him more carefully. Those features look a little more familiar in the light. "Ah. I should have known. My apologies for not recognising you. I have been resting for much of the past few weeks, and my wits are somewhat..." Bedivere gestures loosely.

Well, he'd at least suspected it was Loros, but he hadn't wanted to be foolish and make assumptions. Bedivere is too careful to do that, in most cases. He knows better than that. Even in the dangerous waters of Camelot's courts, he was quiet and reserved, and preferred to observe rather than tip his hand.

Still, he doesn't give him away to Yunomi. The Wizard can do that all by himself if he wants to make introductions. "I have been practising, though, do not fear." One hand is raised almost pacifyingly, and the knight looks uneasy for a moment.

It's hard to imagine why a bent old man like this one would inspire unease in someone as stoic as Bedivere...

When Loros describes himself as a rather old man, though, Bedivere just stares at him blandly, very blandly, for a moment.

"We were discussing what might be done for old men who are brave enough to make the trek here, amidst wind and weather, whilst suffering no ill effects of the cold," he says, completely blandly. "Surely there must be some reward appropriate enough to commend such inspiring fortitude."

He continues to stare at Loros, blandly, for a moment more. And then the corner of his mouth twitches, faintly.

"Actually, I was discussing with Lady Stadler the matter of the spring's crops. As there are only stores enough to last the winter, and not until the next harvest, it is imperative that the fields be restored to their former fertility. I am thinking that cereal crops would do splendidly in this region. Barley and wheat will be hardy in this cold, and a number of vegetables and fruits can be grown in a... what was it? 'Green house?'"

Apparently he's still unfamiliar with the terminology – the words he uses are in fact old Irish, literally for 'house that is the colour green.'

"I welcome your advice, if you have any, but do not feel compelled. I believe we have this matter well in hand." Bedivere inclines his head, politely. "I had planned to speak with Lady Stadler for some time about this. Though, I meant my question. Would you like tea or water? Wine, perhaps? I imagine even your constitution must be affected by this foul wind and weather."

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi notes the deflating, and a thought passes that it might be Merlin hidden beneath that mantle... but it passes. She could feel the unease off Bedivere...

But her thoughts are disturbed by Bedivere and the subject at hand. "Ah, yes, kindness, flowers and – oh! Ah... green house, hot house, a structure made from wood or metal frame with clear, layered glass to keep the inside warm. The terms can be used interchangeably." she gives a small smile, and rocks on her feet a moment.

"I could fetch the kettle for some tea." she gives a small smile, and tries to remain pleasent in spite of the tension. Poor Bedivere. He won't be happy when he wakes up fully... but she regards the traveler with a careful eye and a slightly pursed lip. Poor old guy could fall over dead from hypothermia, any minute now!

Loros (303) has posed:
Master Sorol actually arches an eyebrow at Sir Bedivere's dry wit and observations about old men in winter who are far too hardy. Then he laughs out loud, in a much younger sounding voice that Yunomi's probably heard on the radio a time or two. If you've seen footage of The Wizard of the Confederacy in action, the same lines are visible under all the aging.

"I'm familiar with greenhouses, milady. And in truth, I don't suppose I would object to a glass of wine, although I expect his Lordship to rest, not go running about to fetch it himself. Becuase, in truth, yes. Even I suffer the bite of wind and cold. And don't get me started about the damp and my bones."

Leaning back in the chair he settled in, he pulls the arms of the skin making up his cloak about himself and stares into the fire. "Re-invigorating the land, hm? An admirable goal, and one best served if you stop getting mortally wounded. As the Lord, so the Land. As the Land, so the Lord. You both need to stop bleeding vital force all over the place."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Heh. If you expect me to rest, you are mistaken. I would be a poor host if I did not see to the comfort of my guests before my own. No, Lady Stadler, do not trouble yourself; you are also a guest in my hall. I would not impose such on you." Bedivere pushes himself to his feet, making his way to the kitchens for a few moments.

He moves stiffly enough to suggest that he's still healing from his death-dance with Odin, one arm holding to his side. If Arturia were here, she would probably be nagging at him; just as well that she is, to his knowledge, still asleep. Without the reserves of mana she once had, she needs her rest as much as he does.

As ever, though, he doesn't even consider his own health.

When he returns, it's with a tea service tray, and a glass of wine neatly balanced amidst the piping hot porcelain. He sets it down on the table, handing the glass to Loros and regarding him blandly at that admonishment.

The knight then sighs as he eases back down into his own seat.

...Kindness and flowers and–ugh. Bedivere winces, slightly, glancing back at Yunomi as though aggrieved. Fortunately, the explanation of a greenhouse is enough to distract him. "I see. Clever," he adds, approvingly. "That would do well to feed the townsfolk through the winter, I think, if fast-growing vegetables and fruits could be planted. Something with a quick turnover rate, I think, that would be ready before the spring, if such crops, or fast-growing strains of other crops, are to be found..."

To the matter of wounds, Bedivere snorts, quietly. "It is hardly intentional. Do you think I enjoy being wounded so? True, I may not have to hide my condition as I once did—" There were plenty in Camelot who would have pounced on him if they'd thought him compromised or weak, "—but that does not mean I enjoy such things." He exhales, leaning back a little and sipping from his teacup.

"I only wished to drive off Odin. I had no intention of crossing blades with him any longer than need be, and I failed in even that." He sobers quickly; the change in mood is evidently obvious. He frowns, considering. Had that been a brief flash of gold in Arturia's eyes he'd seen? "It was troubling, actually. For several different reasons. And..."

Violet eyes flick briefly to Loros. And he was given the opportunity to see, first-hand, what Saber had become – to see Excalibur, unleashed in all of its Otherworldly glory.

...And then he felt what it felt like to have such a monstrous draw placed on his system. He hadn't been on his feet for long after that.

Bedivere sighs. "No. You are right. But I cannot simply avoid battle. That would be the coward's path, especially if there are those who cannot defend themselves under threat. I have spoken with Master Merlin about that." Well, that rules out Merlin for who this old man is. "He has spoken with the Tylwyth Teg, as well, on my behalf." He looks like he's bitten into a sour lemon just speaking of the Fair Folk.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
"I can go to fetch it if you tell me..." Yunomi begins, and trails out with "... where it is..." and she looks a bit crestfallen, letting the injured man tend to her like a guest instead of... well.
"... stubburn. The lot of them." she accuses in a gentle manner, but sits to the other side of the mage, and in this case, she narrows her eyes at the laugh. Oh. She knew that one. And she felt her hackles raise and her muscles tense, realizing where she had heard that laugh before... but she doesn't call him out. This place was not hers to defend... and hell. He wasn't doing anything other than drinking a glass of wine.

She does not, however, let Bedivere service himself tea. After the wine glass is set down, she plucks up the teaset, and holding her hand over the top of the pot she pours for Bedi, filling the cup with the hot tea. ANd she levels a knowing look at him before she pours for herself, and gently sets the pot back on the tray. She was about to raise the teacup to her lips, fingers lightly pressed against the side when she looks up at the weird words.

"Tylwy... Tyle... what are those?" she inquires, her eyes going to the knight, and giving a look of concern for his tongue.

Loros (303) has posed:
Loros picks up the glass of wine in his right hand and sips very carefully. "The Fair Folk. Those who dwell Underhill. The Fae, sort of." Taking another sip he smiles at Yunomi. "Relax. Our host knows who I am, and I'm under guest oath. And since I imagine you are also a guest, the rules apply to you as well." Lowering the glass again, he swirls it slowly as he gazes through it into the fire.

"As for stubborn... you have no idea. But then, the best knights always are." He sighs softly, lowering the glass once more. "And yes. Greenhouses would help, extending the growing season. But the soil here... mm. It can wait until spring, I think." Making a casting away gesture with his other hand he shifts to settle more deeply into his chair.

The old man seems lost in thought for a few moments before he turns his attention back to the other two sharing the chamber with him. "I can't expect you to be something you are not. All I ask is that you take care and remember that it is not just you life that hangs in the balance. As for Merlin taking that up... Well. Better him than I, I suppose. Unless you'd prefer the Erlking and the Queen of Air and Darkness take up interest in you." There is a long pause, and then the old man smiles widely at Bedivere. "No, I've just been planting rumors that you might be a bard in the making, and encouraging them to hear you play. None of the great powers, just the small spirits of the land. The rest will handle itself."

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
The pale-haired knight blinks when he finds himself relieved of the tea service, but he has the good grace not to call her on it, letting her fill his cup and her own. He does sigh, though, in a resigned sort of way that suggests he doesn't enjoy being fussed over.

For a moment Bedivere seems content to watch Yunomi over the rim of the teacup he balances in those long fingers. Harper's fingers, despite the calluses from years of swordplay; strong and precise enough to pluck a string as to swing a blade. He has the look of a harper, really; too delicate for a knight, although he's proven he certainly lacks no courage. That soft voice probably doesn't hurt that image.

Ironically, in another lifetime, he would have been one – the filídh of Dál Riata, bard and advisor to kings. While he served in an advisory role, of a sort, it was more of an unspoken agreement between himself and Arturia... and he wielded a sword, not a harp.

"Hmf." A quiet sound, almost amused. "Aye. I am aware of who Master Loros is. Indeed, I sought him out, but please do not make light of this among the Union, for I think many would not understand. He abides by the ancient laws, and we have an... agreement." He turns his hand, briefly baring the intricate knotwork at the back of his left hand. "He is knowledgeable in the ways of magic, and I am not; yet I must learn if I am to be of any use to my king." He lets his hand fall, shrugging and sighing a little. "I would sooner you know now, from me, than find out later through other means."

Merlin comes to mind, and he'd rather not the bored old man starting a diplomatic war for giggles.

The knight closes his violet eyes, briefly. "I trust you both to remain civil, for while I have not declared it formally as such, I consider this place neutral ground in accordance with the Old Ways, and under Brehon Law. It is a place of sanctuary – for all."

"Ah... the Tylwyth Teg. They are the Fair Folk, the Fey, the Ever-Living. For even if their bodies are not always so fair, they are vain, and it appeases them to call them such. Call them what you will, but they are ancient. Spirits of the land, some. They were here long before us, and I suspect they will be here long after us. Lady Alaia, the winter-witch whom this land belongs to, is one such. Although she began as a mortal, I believe." His eyes fall to half mast, and his eyes drop to the tea in his cup. "They are treacherous, and I have no love or trust for them, Lady Alaia aside. They do not think as we do."

His eyes lift, turning to Loros and studying the magician for what seems like a long time. For a brief instant, he looks almost worried.

In fact, when the Erlking and the Queen of Air and Darkness are mentioned, he looks distinctly pale, swallowing. For just an instant the shadows under his eyes seem so much worse. Sorry; he'll be a moment recovering from that horrifying thought.

He looks a little jittery when he raises his cup to sip from it, and it takes him a moment to set it back down on its saucer accurately, the porcelain clinking quietly.

"Er." And then he finally computes what Loros just said. "What?" His head swivels to the Wizard, and he blinks again, this time owlishly. "I am no filidh. Why would you tell them that? I would prefer no dealings with them if it can be helped, but..." He sighs. "God's blood. I suppose I will have to demonstrate to them I am no warlord, as Master Merlin said... but I wish you had asked me before doing that. I do not know the temperament of the Tylwyth Teg who dwell in this place, putting aside Lady Alaia. For all I know, there is a kelpie in the bottom of the lake waiting to drag me under, one day, when my judgement grows soft. Or faerie-lights in the woods, waiting to lure me off, to be devoured by something else."

He considers, drumming his fingers thoughtfully on the table. "Come to think of it, I thought I saw a white horse, standing on the shore of the lake. It was watching me... perhaps it was one of the farm horses, escaped from the village," he murmurs, but he doesn't sound very convinced. In fact, he sounds a little worried.

Yunomi Stadler (272) has posed:
Yunomi had given a smile at the look from the knight; she knew the feeling. She hated being fussed over herself... but in her case, it's because it made her feel weak.

However, Yunomi appears to have taken insult at the insinuation that she would start a fight, here, in someone else's house and as a guest, and she expresses it with her ears re-appearing, pinned back.

"Even if we were not under any oath of guests or truce of the holiday... that's a fight I would lose before I lifted a hand." she admits, and her attention falters, but she brightens, forcefully.

"I suppose then I would leave you to your discussion; these dealings are none of my business, and I may be better off not hearing of them. I could neither betray our friendship, nor the people who have given me my life." she states gently, and sets her empty teacup to the tray, and hesitantly draws herself to a stand, giving a smile to Bedivere. "I'll see myself out, I know the way. Don't let the winter get into your bones."

And she looks to Loros. "Either of you."

ANd she turns to make her exit, leaving the portfolio of designs on the table for Bedivere to look through at his leasure.

Loros (303) has posed:
Loros waves off Yunomi's concern. "It is not a fight I would take up, even if I were not bound in oaths." Fixing his attention back to Bedivere, he actually frowns thoughtfully. "I would advise you to stay well clear of that pond, Lord. At least until you and I have had more time. Those I have spread word to are the small spirits of the land, neither dark nor light. Most will follow the direction of the witch for now, as suits their own nature. At worst, the odd prank."

With a sight, he drains the last of his wine. "Soon, we will need to teach you to take and give power. I want you healed and hale first, since we will have to travel to a place with an abundance of such. For now, however... you are my Student. That involves obligations and ties that even the Twyleth Teg will recognize, and should serve as protection unless you trespass upon the good will of some of the greater." He sighs, and struggles to his feet. "All the same, I should seek my bed. Winter is one of those times I begin to feel my age, just a little."

Wrapping his cloak and furs about himself, he takes himself back out, rather than just vanish. The distant sound of the heavy door opening is followed by... is that the ocean and the sound of steel drum music?

Sir Bedivere (482) has posed:
"Hm?" Bedivere looks disappointed for a moment as he regards Yunomi. "Oh. No, Lady, you misunderstand. Forgive me; I fear I misspoke. I really do trust you to remain civil, for you are among the last I would expect to break truce in this land or any other. Even though you are not of this place, or the place I am from, you nonetheless understand and respect Brehon Law, and I in turn respect that. I was merely saying that you both respect Brehon Law admirably, and I do not expect trouble from either of you."

He shrugs one shoulder, faintly. "That is all I meant by that. Else, I would not have told you that I am taking lessons from him, or that he is sometimes a visitor here in this place." He fixes those violet eyes on Yunomi, briefly; a brief acknowledgement that yes, Loros is dangerous, but the knight knows what he's doing. Well, for the most part.

Although he doesn't relax, he does bow his head to Yunomi with a faint smile. Oh, dear. He's going to have to smooth some ruffled feathers, later. "Thank you for visiting and discussing your plans for the greenhouse. We would not mind seeing more of you here, Lady Stadler; please do feel welcome to come when it please you. There is no 'bad time' as far as I am concerned, and there is nothing to betray, but go if you feel you must. You will be welcome back any time, of course."

The usual.

To the last comment, he only chuckles. "I do not plan on it."

Those long fingers reach over to slide the portfolio back towards himself, and he looks down at the designs briefly. His gaze only flicks back to Loros when the Wizard speaks again.

He pales, just slightly, when talk turns back to the Fair Folk. Bedivere shivers; makes the sign of the Cross over himself. Faerie lights or pixies are one thing, but to see a kelpie in the lake right beyond the castle's bounds is a chilling thought. Vicious creatures, those; dangerous, hungry, and above all, cunning.

"I rarely have reason to visit it, but I will have less reason to visit it if a kelpie has taken up residence there. Lord God preserve me. I have heard stories of such creatures. A lovely white horse, come to wait for some poor fool to climb upon its back; and then straight into the lake it takes them, to devour them. If they do not drown first." The knight shudders. "Some say the creature will become loyal to the victim if they command its respect, but between the drowning and the devouring... well." The poor fool hasn't got much chance of that, now, has he?

The knight swallows, dryly. "Besides," he adds, a little faintly. "I do not know how to swim. What purpose have I to be near a lake?"

Take and give power? Bedivere cocks his head slightly; dubious at that description, but he doesn't pry. He'll find out in due time.

"Road rise up to meet you, then, Master Loros, and wind be at your back." A blessing of his folk; Bedivere suspects that the more Christian blessing he's inclined to say might not settle too well. "Foul as it may be."

He waves the pact-mage off, too weary to see him to the door.

Only after the others have left does he consider the plans on the table for a few moments, but he doesn't open them or look through them. Instead, he simply scoops them up in his arms, grits his teeth a little at the jarring against his side, and begins the long and wearisome climb up Dun Realtai's five flights of stairs.

Rather than invite more scolding, he's smart enough to leave the plans on his desk, shuck off his extra sweater and boots, and climb back into bed. The warmth of curling up with a blanket drawn to his chin while wind howls and snow falls is a temptation even he can't refuse.