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Inner Ward
Castle Anvard

Tyren runs a hand through his hair as he walks into the ward, looking somewhat distracted. His boots are rather sandy, as if he’s just spent some time on the beach.

Lanisen seems to be running water-duty yet again. He lugs a bucket back to the kitchen, disappears into its door, and reappears some moments later with the same bucket empty.

Tyren makes his way to the well, leaning against it and looking somewhat tired.

Lanisen, as before, approaches the well from the side opposite Tyren, but doesn’t hesitate to lower the bucket into the water.

Tyren glances up at this, and says simply, in a quiet tone, “Afternoon, Lanisen.”

Lanisen glances to him, bows quickly, and replies, “Afternoon, sir.” He lifts the full bucket from the well and turns to go.

Tyren says simply, “Lanisen, wait a moment.”

Lanisen stiffens slightly, turning warily from the kitchens back toward Tyren. “Yes, sir?”

Tyren replies, “Loc wanted me to send his regards along to you when I made my return. I haven’t yet had the chance.”

Lanisen turns more fully toward Tyren, obviously surprised by this. “Loc? How’s he doin’? Is he all right?”

Tyren nods, giving a small, clearly genuine smile, despite the rest of his haggard demeanor. “He’s settling in rather well. Bound to be a bit of a rocky road to settle in with… well, the reputation he’s made for himself, but he’s handling it better than most would, in my opinion. He wanted you to know he’s thinking about you over there, hopes you’re settling in here, too. And I told him I’d pass it along next chance I got.”

Lanisen listens intently, his full attention on Tyren, looking the man in the face for once. A surprised, happy grin lights up his face, and he shifts his hold on the bucket’s handle. “Thank you,” he says after a small hesitation.

Tyren hehs, dipping a small nod. “Well, I do try to be a man of my word.”

Lanisen asks, “Did he say anythin’ else?”

Tyren shakes his head. “Nothing specific, no. I think he just wanted to make sure you knew he’s still thinking of you over there, and that he’s still hoping the best for you.”

Lanisen nods. He sets down the bucket, working his fingers. “Thanks for… tellin’ me, I–” He rubs the back of his neck and glances around the ward, his head lowered again. “Is anybody going… that is, is there some way I could… you know, send a message back?”

Tyren says, “Not that I’m aware of, but… well, I’ll… I’ll talk with…” He hesitates a moment, rubbing the back of /his/ neck, before he says, “I’ll talk with my cousin. See if something can be arranged at some point.”

Lanisen stares at him searchingly for a moment, then lets out a sigh. “Thanks, sir,” he replies quietly, obviously grateful.

Tyren just nods.

Lanisen hesitates a moment, then bends to pick up the bucket. He bows again.

Tyren says, “Take care, Lanisen.”

Lanisen pauses a moment. “You too, sir.”

Tyren simply nods again. “Go on. I won’t keep you too long, I know how the cooks can be.”

Lanisen half-grins a little ruefully. He raises the bucket in a salute of sorts and heads off to the kitchens.


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