RP:Frostmaw Welcomes Alvina As The New Royal Blacksmith

From HollowWiki

Part of the Hour of Wolves Arc


Summary: Hildegarde officially offers the job of Royal Blacksmith to Alvina and gives her more information on the Black Ice Material safe guarded by Frostmaw Giants for ages. Alvina vows to keep the secrets and serve only Frostmaw. Lionel is just there to be Lionel. Alvina also makes a crack about Macon not being cute, which Hildegarde laughs at. All's chummy on the Frostmaw Front. It's too much to hope that things will be good forever.

Frostmaw Fort

Alvina finds her way into the throne room with the assistance of the guards posted outside. They have her a very mean once over before allowing her to pass. She wondered if being the Royal Blacksmith came with some kind of emblem she should be wearing on her cloak. In retrospect, it made sense that they didn’t trust her after the almost terrorist attack on Frostmaw Towers. The Engineer assumed that was why the Queen had requested her presence. She’d arrived alone, dressed in her navy blues. Cloak and high neck-lined dress, white boots. Crimson curls bound in an endless braid at her back. She approaches the throne with a cautious air. “G-Good morrow!” She calls, with a weak wave of her palm. Courtly manners are not her strong suit.


Hildegarde had already been consulted by Lionel when it came to all matters Alvina. In fairness, she didn’t need Lionel to tell her about Alvina’s skill for she had witnessed it first hand and knew of it well enough to make her own decision! But it was always good to have another voice lend weight to her thoughts. As Alvina enters the fort and makes towards the throne, Hildegarde descends the throne with a polite smile. “M’lady,” she greets warmly, a sharp contrast to the freezing cold of Frostmaw, “Let us sit in the hall. It’s warmer there, we can have a bite to eat,” Alvina was a mother, after all. She needed her strength. “Come,” she bade her gently, extending her arm as if to gently guide Alvina back into the main hall where they could sit and eat in a less formal manner. “You needn’t worry about why I have summoned you. It should be good news, I hope.”


Lionel has a spring in his step today and it's bound to be from coffee. He's dressed in his regal red uniform -- unusual for the man to be wearing anything so stiff except in formal events -- and his Knight-Commander's silvery vambrace keeps catching torchlight and shimmering. All told, it's the most genuinely 'knightly' Lionel has ever appeared, and it's causing his soldiers to stand up and take notice wherever he goes. Odd that a fellow in charge of the army should loft brows when he looks the part, but then again, no one has ever said Lionel is normal. He whistles, an old Catalian tune of course, and he keeps tabs on Khitti's condition via impromptu meeting with a medic. Once the medic's filed his report, the Hero of Hellfire bids farewell, rounds a corner, and happens upon his queen speaking warmly with Alvina. Nothing quite like bumping into the two most important (albeit for very separate reasons) women in one's life. It takes a few seconds for Lionel to gauge the reason behind Alvina's visit, which is half an eternity for a guy so quick-thinking, and then he smiles pleasantly in realization... until, barely a millisecond later, he remembers the incident at the tower on the other end of the city. Right. Alvina must still be in turmoil. Bitterness overcomes joy and Lionel briefly entertains the notion of sidestepping them both. He thinks better of it, straightening his posture and strolling past as if by chance. "My queen," he greets. "Alvina."


Alvina sighs with relief when Hildegarde steps down to meet her. It’s intimidating speaking to someone on a throne, always. She’d never get use to it, no matter how close she was with someone. “I would love that,” The sound of her laughter blooms into a solid smile. “I hear you important people forget to eat often!” Though, to her Hildegarde was still just in charge of the Eyrie and the officer she reported to. This Queen business felt odd, even if Alvina would cheer her on eternally. “Good news? My, I am in need of that.” Their path is interrupted by Lionel, who addresses them. It takes the bard a moment to realize he is greeting them separately and not calling Alvina a Queen because, why would he? That’s weird, even for him. “Knight-Commander,” comes her chilled but smiling reply as Hildegarde continues into the hall. Alvina prattles off some silly story about Luna and Harper on the way. Babies made small talk and bridging gaps effortless. They were cute and most people indulged her. They could crawl now, it’s the darndest thing. The bard takes her seat at the table, exchanging glances with Hildegarde and Lionel, feeling like the odd one out. She holds an anxious smile, hands clasped on the table top before her before so rudely asking “How is your heart these days, M’lady?”.


Hildegarde graciously invites Lionel to join them at the table because that’s the polite thing to do! She has no idea there’s a thing called ‘feelings’ between them. As Alvina chats animatedly about her babies, Hildegarde nods here and there, smiling and chuckling along even though she doesn’t understand a thing. Babies were babies, they didn’t do a lot except make Hildegarde very nervous. They were too little. It was unnatural. No fangs or claws, how do these human babies defend themselves? Unnatural. “I’m glad that you and the children are doing well,” she tells her with a fond smile, “your family is my family!” That was simply the Eyrie way. Hildegarde’s way. But when Alvina suddenly asks her about her heart, her expression falters for a moment. She sometimes forgot it was cold steel in her chest, rather than a relatively warm beating heart. “It’s fine, thank you,” she answers, uncertain how else to answer. It worked. It was her heart but it still felt wrong. “Anyway. Today is not about me, it’s about you!” she tells her, swiftly changing the subject. “Lionel has consulted with me about offering you a proper job and title here in Frostmaw. I trust he has spoken about this with you?”


Lionel is pitch-silent during Alvina’s story of offspring, and in fact it would be difficult for him to find the words to speak. After all, he’s entered into something of a zen state, a conscious disappearing act that allows him the facade of presence whilst blocking potential emotional reactions. It’s one of the handiest tricks in Lionel’s arsenal, although he’d only learned it during his six-month stint in the dungeons of the Underdark. The things folks do to survive. On this particular occasion, it is not some white-hot pincer to his flesh from the daily drow torture procedures, but rather, Lionel had been present for the births of Alvina’s children, he’d even cut the cord on one of them, and that kind of connection does not fade but it has no place between them now. So the facade continues, not out of negative intent but from fear, and he smiles politely, chuckles when it’s expected, and every aspect of the man seems aptly-calculated for a fellow who would react to a gap-bridging smalltalk baby story. Every aspect but for his eyes, which drift. If ever there came a day Lionel O’Connor could learn to control his too-passionate, overly expressive eyes, he’d make for a fine actor at any theater, but until then he’s merely passable. Anyway, the author digresses. Some words are said and Lionel is soon seated at the table, as per the queen’s gracious request. Talk of hearts feels almost ironic at this juncture. Not wanting to break the back-and-forth between Hildegarde and Alvina, Lionel remains quiet but attentive.


Alvina immediately feels bad for asking about the mechanism, what kind of question is that to ask someone, and waves her palms at the other occupants. “I-I’m so glad!” It’s so cute, how nervous she is to be here. As if her quiet life afforded her to go through without being noticed. Then Hilde asks about the position in Frostmaw and if Lionel has spoken with her. She blinks. “Y-yes. He mentioned that I was being considered for a position in the ranks of blacksmiths for Frostmaw. Though I hope you’ll still charge me with interesting inventions in the downtime of making standard weapons.” A laugh to dissolve her nervousness, before she clears her throat, afraid she’s looking too comfortable and not the least bit professional. “I-I received the plans for Khitti’s bow and that Black Ice is something else to work with...I never thought I’d be thankful for metal fingers but by the Gods here we are.” She’s trying to read Hildegarde’s expression but she can not truly. Lionel’s is no help, beyond his puppy dog eyes that she purposefully ignores for reasons. Valid reasons. “W-was I mistaken about the position? Do I need to be on a trial basis beforehand? I completely understand if that’s the case! And the salary portion isn’t important, if triple the normal rate is too outrageous.” Oops, that’s what Lionel had offered her right? But he’d offered her a lot of things, she couldn’t remember them all. And if she paid enough attention she’d know he wasn’t keeping his part of what she’d specifically requested. For shame.


Hildegarde doesn't mind Alvina's embarrassment or the way in which she mildly panics at asking such a question. It's just Alvina's way and Hildegarde knows that perfectly well, she doesn't think badly of Alvina for it. She nodded along as Alvina spoke of what Lionel had said and the designs that she had received for Khitti's bow. "Black ice might require cold forging," she tells Alvina, "which is a closely guarded secret of Frostmaw's." Yet as Alvina panics and asks about the position and whether or not she was mistaken, she merely regally raises her hand as if to hush the engineer and wave her worries away. "I am happy to offer you the position of Royal Blacksmith, Alvina, but it comes with some conditions and perks. I will only give you the position if you agree to these conditions. I cannot allow my Royal Blacksmith to be someone who will not abide by my conditions after all," she said with a little smile.


"Oh my yes, it took no shortage of miracle work to pry that tidbit!" The odd thing was Alvina didn't mind having to ask a Frostmaw Blacksmith / Frost Giant how to manipulate the material. She was nothing if not eager to learn. The Frost Giant was less than pleased to divulge the information. The bard has wondered if it was because she was human or a woman. No matter. Alvina could keep the secret. "I am excellent with secrets!" Her left metallic limb juts out, a silent example of a secret she's kept for a very long time. No need to explain. Lionel had not mentioned any conditions, so this request catches Alvina off guard. Her service was happily Frostmaw’s and Hildegarde's, but the complexity of 'conditions' made her pause to inquire. "Of course," the Engineer agreed, "All roles require rules." It's possible the Knight-commander thought the Queen the best person to present the rules to the bard, since she was effectively entering Hildegarde's employ, and not his. Not directly. "What are you conditions?" A bright smile holds her face, more comfortable to discuss terms than make idle small talk. She's tempted to throw a polite title or two in but the informal atmosphere dissuade her.


"As Royal Blacksmith, you would be privvy to many secrets. Secrets that involve my own weapons and my own armour, that of my guards and those that are of the utmost importance. If there was a particular weakness, someone could find that out if you were so inclined to share." The knight has faith that Alvina would never share such secrets, but it's something that must be said. Alvina is being afforded the respect any applicant to the job would be. She is being treated like any other individual would. "To become the Royal Blacksmith, well... it requires a more formal pledge of fealty. If you are my blacksmith, I cannot have you then blacksmithing for Larket. I will not say you cannot perform services for others. But you cannot commit yourself to another city, particularly one that has bad blood with Frostmaw. Do you understand?" she asks, not terribly sure she was making much sense herself! "If you want this role, there will be a wage and other benefits offered to you. You will be taught the secrets of cold forging, a gift only one other non-giant knows.


Alvina keeps Hildegarde in her gaze, listening intently. It's hard to imagine a world where she might not offer Josleen assistance. Her dearest friend, now Queen of Larket. She hesitates. The Queen's words are fair, certainly. There's no question there. The bard replays the words. She can help others but not commit herself to another city 's cause. That's the same reason the previous blacksmith was let go. It makes sense. "I understand." The smile slips from her face. The exchange is regarded with the importance it deserves. The responsibility was not taken lightly. "I can't say it will be an easy thing, to say no if Josleen should ask for my help..." Though, why would she? Surely Macon had his own blacksmiths. They could kept their jobs separate and still remain friends... Right? Was she too naive to think that she wasn't picking sides, here and now, for things to come? The Eyrie, Frostmaw, and Hildegarde had been good to her. It was not a personal decision, to agree. The internal struggle ends, bright emerald eyes flick momentarily to Lionel before returning to Hilde. "But my heart and soul is with Frostmaw. And so then my loyalty and everything else I have to offer is yours."


Hildegarde knows that it is not an easy decision to make. "Josleen will understand, I'm sure," she says, not too sure if Josleen really will understand. She can only hope her Thane and friend does. But these are dark and trying times, trouble continues to brew within the realm and Hildegarde must gather those she can to her side. "I am relieved to hear it," she says in reply, a smile gracing her face. "In exchange, you will always find a room within the fort. A steady wage. Protection. There's other things but... well, I can't really describe them. It's hard," she admitted. "You get our love and strength in return for your service, amongst other things."


Alvina continues to nod but her smile is brittle, heavy with the weight that she doesn't think Josleen would understand. She can only hope it never comes to that. "I've always been grateful for what you've afford me and my family. Your love and strength is welcome. I've grateful for the chance to do something good, for you and Frostmaw." Alvina isn't looking at Lionel, because he's trying very hard not to look at her. Hildegarde was right to say it's hard to describe. The man couldn't begin to describe what could be offered in Frostmaw's service if he'd been charged to, even by his Queen. "Just say the word. I'll build the best damn...everything or my name isn't Alvina." This battle cry of sorts lifts her spirits, even if it's temporary. Trouble and darkness flooded the land in spades. Smiles and friends? Far more valuable and difficult to find. "And if I'm honest that Macon guy isn't even that cute." A forced laugh, not a credible opinion. Just a light joke to try and lift the somber mood. She can't imagine how serious it might have been to stay in the throne room. At least here their was wood beneath their hands, and the kind of lighting that one might nap in after a hearty meal. Her hand is extended towards Hildegarde, to shake on the appointment as she'd seen others do. As they may have done, all that time ago when she became the official Engineer for the Eryie. "I won't let you down."


Hildegarde smiled at Alvina's proud declaration of loyalty and being able to build the best damn whatever she required! "I would advise you to speak to Master Gikal when given the opportunity, he will teach you the secrets of cold forging. A secret that must never leave Frostmaw," she reiterates. Cold forging was a precious secret rarely taught to any who was not a giant. "Only one other human knows how to cold forge," she tells Alvina, as if this will emphasize how precious the secret is. As Alvina says Macon isn't even that cute, Hilde chortles away evidently very amused by the fact. Macon wasn't cute, that was true. But something about him obviously attracted Josleen. "I know you won't," she replies firmly, extending her hand and grasping Alvina's forearm in the traditional warrior's shake; the traditional shake of Frostmaw to welcome her into the fold.