The outer ward of Castle Anvard is a busy, bustling place, with market stalls and the smithy, stables, and kennels lining the outer walls. There are stairs leading to the gate towers on the northern and southern corners of the outer curtain. To the east are the outer gatehouse and the road leading into the realm of Archenland, and to the west another gate leads to the the inner ward and the main keep of Anvard.
The snow has been mostly cleared out of the center of the ward and gathered into several waist-deep piles up against the walls. A large bonfire of fragrant wood, kept burning bright and hot at all hours of the day and night, occupies the open space. Festive greenery hangs all around, amid the icicles.
Myles leads his horse, saddled and geared for the hunt, out of the stable. His squire comes behind him, leading his own horse. Both are dressed warmly, and Myles calls out some high-spirited jest over his shoulder as they approach the bonfire.
Arael walks in beside Lord Sten, very well bundled up. Her cheeks are rosy and her expression is animated as she replies to him.
Aravis leads a dark grey hunting horse from the stables, dressed lightly enough to ride swiftly but still stay warm. A red scarf is draped over her shoulders and over the lower half of her face.
Lune stands near the bonfire with a group of his attendants, dressed warmly for the hunt. He seems in high spirits, chatting with everybody, and his loud, booming laugh rings out frequently.
Continue reading yuletide
Sten is wandering about the stalls this mid-afternoon, admiring the various wares. He’s dressed warmly; despite the bright sun, it’s quite chill. He doesn’t seem to be interested in buying anything, though he has a good word for nearly everything he comes across.
Lanisen leaves the kennels, looping a scarf around his neck. He jams his hands into his pockets and angles his path toward the food stalls. He dips his head to people as he passes and murmurs his good-afternoons.
Continue reading lunch
Sten is at the hearth table again, eyes mostly closed and hands crossed over his stomach. It looks as though his teacup has been empty for a while, and the kitchen staff has begun piling bowls on his table.
Lanisen slips through after supper once again, half-dancing with various high-speed kitchen workers to get through the room to the scrap-bucket.
Continue reading friendly things
You stand in the busy kitchen of Anvard. There is a large hearth with a blazing fire. Over the fire there is an iron pot hanging on the hearth hook.
There is one long table, stacked with bowls and platters and pitchers, used for preparation and serving. There is a large door into the Inner Ward to the north and a set of swinging, double doors leading to the Great Hall. To the east is the Servant’s Hall, and a door in the center of the south wall leads out to the Kitchen Yard.
A son of adam with a lined face is sitting at a small table before the fire, a pot of tea and a plate before him. The plate bears about half a piece of carrot cake, temporarily being given a reprieve.
Lanisen slips into the kitchens, keeping out of the way of the after-supper clean-up. He grabs an apple from a basket near the door and pockets it, pauses to let a maid carrying an empty dishtub in from the garden pass, and heads toward the back wall, where a bucket of meat scraps sits next to the garden door.
Continue reading tea ambush