Herder Log: Inali's Interview

Main Hall
A cavern originally carved out of rock, the main hall has been carefully enlarged outwards, using slate, to make the extension Threadproof and sturdy. A few deep-set windows look out on the courtyard, allowing light in. The rest of the main hall is lit by suspended glowbaskets, a system of pulleys to provide easy changing. A few comfortable looking chairs are scattered around one side, a sharp contrast to the other side, which is clearly a reception area for guests, with a desk and several more formal chairs in a neat and tidy arrangement.
This place is neat and clean, the work of busy Apprentices.
Gliding above is a gold firelizard.
Inali is here.
Obvious exits:
Classroom Clinic Courtyard Kennels Stables Stairs

Rhaenyra is seated at the main desk, a pair of delicate looking glasses perched at the end of her nose as she peers down at a hide she's annotating. The young woman irritably pulls her mass of curls away from her face, and ties it back absentmindedly with a piece of wherhide string; not a heartbeat goes by before the curls are slithering out of the confines. The journeyman appears absorbed in her reading, for the time being.

Inali rushes in from the courtyard, her rather large fur coat wrapped around her shoulders. She pauses just inside the doors and peers around intently. Briefly her gaze stops on Rhaenyra, but then she's scanning the rest of the faces that may come or go through this way. Not finding what she's looking for, she lets out a long sigh, relaxes, and heads towards one of the scattered chairs. She takes off her coat and drapes it over the back of the chair before she sits down.

Rhaenyra glances up, recognizing the girl from a few days before. The journeyman tucks another curl behind an ear and casts a look over her spectacles— an amusing sight, considering the considerable youth of Rhaenyra. "Can I help you find whatever it is you are looking for?" she questions the girl, as the chair she decides to sit in is close enough to talk.

Inali turns towards Rhaenyra with a start, surprised at being addressed. "I'm just waiting for someone," she replies, and turns the chair towards Rhaenyra. "Someone who was supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago. I thought I was late, but apparently I'm early."
Rhaenyra's eyebrows raise and mouth forms an silent 'ah'. "A herder, then, you're waiting on?" she continues her very polite interrogation.

"Yea," Inali nods. "One of the Journeyman Herders from Fort Hold— Roland. He brought me again today, to visit, while he went about some business." She narrows her eyes briefly on Rhaenyra. "I met you the other day, right?"

Rhaenyra glances back down to her hide for a moment, making a definitive mark to keep track of where she was at, and sets aside the stylus and spectacles, folding the expensive reading glasses carefully and placing them in front of her. "I do believe so. We were loading the tithe wagons, if I remember correctly." A thoughtful gaze, then, "Roland, you say?" A brief raise of an eyebrow. "I worked with him at the hall in Fort." Her Fortian accent explains her birthplace, at any rate.

"Oh? What's your name? Maybe he's mentioned you and I never knew it," Inali smiles briefly, but the smile is erased by worry as she glances out the window. "I do hope he shows up soon." She turns back to Rhaenyra. "I noticed your accent. It seems so… different here, than there."

"Journeyman Rhaenyra," Rhaen replies, leaning back in her chair a bit and glancing thoughtfully at the girl. "He and I were on different tracks, however, so I doubt that he spoke of me often." A graceful rise and fall of one shoulder in a semi-shrug, then; "This is the main hall. We do much more business than Fort does, as a rule. That does make for some very particular differences."

Ulaon walks, with a soft step, in from the Sale Kennels.

At the front of the Hall, Rhaenyra sits at the reception desk, turned about on her chair to speak to Inali, who's settled on one of the overstuffed chairs, apparently waiting for someone. {Scene current.}

"I am Inali," the girl states, nodding her head. "And I don't think I've heard a word about you." She crosses her arms, "I see. I'm certainly used to lots of business- my mother and father were both journeymen, so they were always busy. Mom's a Healer, dad's a Harper. Both are posted to Fort."

Rhaenyra lifts an eyebrow a fraction. Born at Fort, mother a Healer, dad a Harper. Now /why/ does that sound familiar… "Then you may have heard of my father," Rhaenyra states, her tone dry, "Master Harper-Legist Targar," she states. Yeah, people may know of him, if by reputation alone as one of the most ruthless legal-specialists at the Harper Main Hall at Fort. She catches herself before stating something else, and shifts back around in her chair. "Ah, Inali, if you have need of anything, please let me know." She picks up her hide, at that point, and reaches for her spectacles once more.

"Your father?" Inali's eyebrows lift more than a fraction, as she instantly recognizes the name. "Certainly I've heard of him. I think my father went to talk to him about some sort of trading scam in the Hold. My family lost quite a few marks." If the fur coat is any indication, they weren't put in the poor house because of it. "Well—" she starts, pausing, "I still haven't heard a thing about the recommendation Roland put in." She slumps a bit in her chair. "How long do you that'll take, for an answer?"
*think that'll take

Rhaenyra has her spectacles on her nose by the time Inali replies, and the Herder lass turns to shift a look to the girl. "Ah, probably. He does far too many cases for me to keep track of them all," she states, her hand poised with the stylus ready to annotate the hide she's reading/editing. "A letter of recommendation?" That classic eyebrow raise from Rhaen, and an almost amused look passes over her face. "What do you expect to happen? Have you spoken to any of the journeymen or masters about joining the craft?"

"Oh! Roland never mentioned…" Inali blushes and looks down, recognizing the amusement. "No, I expected I would be approached, or a get a letter…" Lost in thought, she finally makes eye contact with Rhaenyra again. "So I should speak to someone? Who do you recommend?"

Rhaenyra just blinks at Inali for a moment. "Any journeyman or master can help you with that," she smoothly replies, cocking an eyebrow with a slight smile. "But yes, typically you have to ask for entrance into the craft."

Without a beat going by, Inali replies, "Can I ask you?" Apparently she's a mite desperate. "It's been at least two weeks, and shells, I would've spoken to someone… Maybe Roland simply likes to cart me around."

Ulaon, at this moment, trots in from the courtyard, intent on his task, surely, as he announces his entrance with a rather abrupt, "Rhaenyra, did you have the checklist for the wagon being loaded-" and here it stops, as the conversation at hand is noted. And the boy goes a little red, and straightens his stance, and looks to the ground with a muttered, "Sorry."

Rhaenyra levels a glance at Inali, then. "Of course you could ask me. I was wondering if you were blind or just ignorant on how to read knots, for a moment there." She gives the girl a smile, then, one more remniscent of a Southern feline showing it's teeth more than anything else. Has the girl managed to fray Rhaen's typical serenity? Apparently. Maybe it was just the desperation noted in the girl's tone. The brunette shifts about, then, to contemplate Ulaon. Hiding a smile? Oh, indeed. She allows the moment to draw out— she's feeling vindictive, in this moment— and then finally clears her throat. "Apprentice Ulaon," she drawls out; "I'm going over the manifest now, but as soon as I'm done with it, you can compare it to what's left to be done."

Inali is definitely struck by Rhaenyra's insult. She leans back in her chair, wrapping herself a little with the fur coat draped there. "I'm sorry, I didn't…" She's obviously used to being much more casual with those of higher rank than her— perhaps it is the fact her parents associated so often with those of their rank. Inali is distracted by Ulaon's entrance, and then turns back to Rhaenyra. "May I join the craft, ma'am?" Inali has become much more tight-lipped and polite at this point.

"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am. I, um…" a glance is tossed over his shoulder, the entrance to the courtyard inspected momentarily, and then he's back to looking at his feet rather than Rhaenyra. "I can wait." He does peer up from under curly bangs to peer at Inali, but otherwise manages to continue looking fairly cowed.

Rhaenyra manages to get both of them at once! A twofer. Then why does the journeyman's face flash momentarily with regret? Because she's her father's daughter, and too well, it appears. Enough with the meta, back to the pose. "Of course you may join the craft, Inali," she states, and her voice is softened than her previous harsh tones. She rummages in the desk and tosses a knot at the girl. "We'll worry about the oathtaking later," she continues up, tone strong, but somehow subdued. "Ulaon, grow a pair," she then states, her tone shifting from subdued to annoyed in a heartbeat. Maybe it's that time of the month. A shake of her head, then, and she lifts a hand to press against her forehead. "I'm sorry. Just— wait a moment. We're still a few days off from leaving, unfortunately."

Inali looks wide-eyed at the knot in her lap before taking it. "Oh." She's nearly speechless. She looks over towards Ulaon and then Rhaenyra, confusion beginning to furl her eyebrows inward. "Thank you," she manages. But what's the next step?

Ulaon sends a quick scowl up toward Rhaenyra, but continues to wait. At least he's looking at her, now. "Whenever you're ready," is mumbled, barely making it out from between his lips in any sort of coherent fashion.

Rhaenyra shakes herself a moment, and rises from her seat. "Inali, see Headwoman Rendell. She will show you your cot in the dorms and fit you with a pair of boots. Familiarize yourself with the hall, and you and I will sit down and work you into classes— tomorrow, most like." She shifts a glance towards Ulaon, and rolls the manifest up; "Ulaon, just take my copy— please bring it back to me, though? I need to check it against our inventory here, for Jadall, or we'll never get the wagons rolling." And at that point, she strides out the hall, an unusual scowl plastered on her face.

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