A slightly windy autumn afternoon lays its lambent warmth over the practice fields. Guardsmen are practicing in pairs and threes, the clatter of wooden practice swords against each other rises and falls. 'Captain' Roesone is practicing by himself, a whirling dervish of flashing steel as he flows through the forms.

The First Prince usually gets more then a few glances as he enters the practise yard. Some would know of his public training here, and the way guards sheepishly begin duels with the First Prince, that end up in full-length battles of skill. Theowyn would be among the better men here in the sword, no doubt, though certainly not the best. The warder walks with his Guardsman that frequently serve as both protection and administratation, in some cases.

Turail winds down the last few motions of the forms set, and returns to starting, remaining meditatively still for a moment before sheathing the blade and casting his eyes around the practice yard. His eyes pick up the motions of the Prince's guards, and then fall on the Prince himself. He strides that direction with an easy rolling gait.

Theowyn's eyes set on Turail as he approaches. More spin occurs around the practise yard, as the First Prince typically comes here to keep his sharp. The other Queen's Guards that are with Theowyn begin to step away, giving the two some privacy. "Captain Turail, I see," he notes the ranking on the uniform, a pleased smile coming to his features. "Friend, I see you were well placed within our ranks."

Turail bows himself rather formally to his friend, and now, superior officer. "Yes my Prince." His mouth twists upwards at the corner with a hint of wry pleasure. "It seems yourself and the Captain General anticipated my thoughts much more than I expected. He has assigned me to the First Division of the Infantry. I have yet to speak with him on certain matters of my duties, but I am pleased with the responsibilities I have been given thus far."

"Indeed, I do believe we had issues with the previous Captain," Theowyn states we a wave of his hand, dismissing those issues. "I will leave specifics to your duties to the Captain-General, though at summary you of significant and well placed trust." Theowyn concines past Turail, his hand coming across Turail's shoulder to lead him in Theowyn's intended, and unobvious, path through the practise yards.

Turail turns with the Prince's light pressure on his shoulder and follows with him through the practice yard. "I am honored by your trust." He lets his hands fold together at his back as they walk, turning his face towards Theowyn briefly, "Any news yet on the this Renford's identity?"

"None. I do wonder how long he expects us to stand around and wait for this 'evidence' he is confident he has," Theowyn ponders out-loud. "I'm almost inclined to believe that he felt the seal would be enough evidence, and that he is now stalling for time. Do not worry about the investigation on-goingg in regard to House Roesone. It is being handled by a different division that you will have no contact with." Theowyn makes it almost seem like this division would be far too unobvious.

"I will not interfere, as I told Chancellor Engest." Turail turns to Theowyn's direction, his gaze direct. "I will abide the decision of the law." He turns his gaze off rather aloofly, "What is done is done. I move on to new duties in the service of Andor."

"Though it warms my heart that Murandy means Andor no harm," Theowyn smirks with that, obviously in reference to the words from Lord Renford. "There is still," and to this, Theowyn's voice goes to a lower whisper, "concern in some of what was stated at the High Court. Something that we've had suspected for some time now. There are men in the Queen's Guard that are not loyal to the Queen. That man that placed a visit at House Roesone with information of the souther noble Houses was indeed a Queen's Guard. One in a division that had been sent on this investigation with anonymous direction from within the Guard. At least, anonymous to us."

Turail turns towards the prince again, one black eye brow ascending on his face. That got his attention certainly. "Which investigation?" he rasps softly, keeping the tenor of his voice low as well. His brows lower and pull inward slightly then. "I have been thinking on this Renford business somewhat myself. And a few things have occured to me. It ought to have been known by... who ever is behind this, that certain houses would almost certainly bring the information of the investigation to to the attention of yourself and the queen. Roesone and Hune among them. Perhaps that was the intent?"

"The investigation that yourself and Duchess Rennar informed me of some while ago," Theowyn responds to the first question, leading onward through the practise yard. "At least the investigation to the matters in House Roesone were commissioned by myself, though for a different reason, in hopes that the motive would be found within. Instead, the results came up as they did, and were rather unexpected. I am open to suggestions on the matter, Turail."

If only, if only. The banner cry of the man who knows things are not as they seem, but cannot prove it without injuring a friend, and maybe more than one. Turail holds his silence on the later issue with a slight shrug. "The wheel weaves, we run with the shuttle." He reiterates his philosophy once more. "But on this matter of the investigation we notified you of.. I've become fascnated with the number of times that House Trigoran seems to be involved in some way.. if only coincidental ways with recent events." Turail pauses as they step around a fighting pair, his hands still folded at his back. "Does it not strike you as strange, the simple number of times the House's name has been mentioned? First Lord Magnus was involved in bringing Sydelle to Andor, then Trigoran was acccused of treason in this mystery investigation, and now Trigoran was mixed up in the Renford matter at High Court."

"There is more there," Theowyn agrees, spying out a few Guardsman as he leads Turail through a less crowded path. For the most part the Queen's Guard flanking the two walking keep people far enough away for their conversation to still be private. "Lord Magnus believed in Queen Sydelle, he sheltered the heir-apparent, though he did not know at the time. The heir-apparent was killed on his property when a handfull of assassins took to Magnus' estate." Theowyn sighs at that news. "Then there is Master Ian, the man that worked for both sides. I would suspect he was a spy of sorts for Lord Magnus. I fear Lord Magnus knew too much and paid with his life."

Cende arrives from the southeast, following a path of stout flagstones.

Cende has arrived.

Cende steps in, scanning the area. She stops uncertainly when she sees Theowyn, before very slowly making her way in his direction.

Turail mulls over the information the prince has just shared with him, his hands still folded easily behind his back over his crisp red guards tunic. "Mm.. I was not aware of certain portions of those events. Indeed, enough to make one uneasy."

"It would seem that someone has gone to great lengths to implicate Lord Magnus. Of course, if we believe Lord Renford, then Lord Magnus is the enemy. I refuse to believe this, he has been a trusted friend and noble of Andor for decades." Theowyn and Turail have been picking their way through the practise yard, their conversation rather quiet. Two Guardsman flank them, and apparently are doing a good job at keeping most away from hearing range of the pair. Then again, one does manage to catch sight of Cende as she is making her approach, and he leans to the side to inform Theowyn. The First Prince does stop in his tracks, twisting at the waist and then completely around as he watches the approaching woman.

Approaching the Prince, Cende keeps her head up, although one who knows her might see a widening of the eyes, a faint paling under her sun-streaked skin. Her whisky-smooth voice is soft and low as she asks, upon coming into hearing range "Am I still welcome here, Th.. my lord?"

Turail backs off a step, to let the pair speak, with a solicitous bow.

"Of course, Cende," Theowyn's voice touches on strained, though that passes as he steps further. "I understand that yourself and Lord Turail share a common manor?" he begins, an attempting to draw the subject away from the thoughts on his mind in regards to Theowyn and Cende. Though that attempt seems to fail. "I do thank-you for the corresponse, it is well received, and appreciated. My thoughts linger on the subject still." The look he gives Turail when he turns in that direction would seem to indicate that having the Blademaster take a step back is the last that he wishes. Within those under-currents are deep.

Tilting her head, Cende raises one slightly confused eyebrow "I was given to understand that you sent Lord Demonder to me, for the Duchess' protection? You knew I would agree, all things considered." She makes no mention of the corresspondance, although the faintest hint of a blush creeps onto her cheeks at the mention of same.

Turail glances at Theowyn, catching a scintilla of that strain in the prince's voice. He offers from his one pace back position, "I had the pleasure of meeting Cende at Hune Manor recently, yes."

"The Daighter-Heir's safety is a concern in these times, yes," Theowyn answers the question that was not asked, his eyes having no place to distract themselves but on Cende. Thoughts linger to other matters, though he clears his own throat and goes on. "I knew you would agree, and hope that you value the position. It is one of importance to Andor, Rennar's safety, that is."

Eyes and voice both snapping, Cende speaks rather more sharply than might be expected "Light, Theowyn, you knew I would do it and do it well, the Oath I swore to you and my skills both insure that - or do you need me to remind you that I am skilled in my own right?" She half turns away, and takes a breath, visibly attempting to reign in a deep anger.

"Perhaps, /Your Highness/", Cende's voice bitterly accents the formal title "perhaps you would prefer if I simply took myself off now. I can offer you the names of a half dozen or more qualified men in your city to do the job you have asked of me. That you could not even ask of me yourself."

Turail glances between the two, perhaps startled at the briskness of the switch from unsurity to anger in the blonde bodyguard. Whatever runs between this pair is obviously a matter of some discomfort.

"Cende, I do need you here," Theowyn states, his voice almost void of emotion, sounding far from despirate, though perhaps the words will speak more to her? "You could not give me the names of a half a dozen men that I will trust as I trust you. I promise, that once the immidiate dangers to Andor are cleared, once we settle who this Renford is and what Murandy's true intentions are..." Thoewyn stops, briefly, "or for that matter Illian's..." again, more left unspoke, though he does take another step forward. "Cende, I do need you." That, hinting more on an emotional level.

Remaining half-turned away, Cende's eyes unfocus, seeing perhaps something in her memory more than what is in front of her. Softly, something neither anger nor uncertainty nor bitterness remaining in her voice, she replies, again less to what was said, "I could not leave her now, regardless." A faint quirk of a smile "I like her, actually. And I think I understand a little of how she feels sometimes, with her own ability." Her eyes focus again, and the brilliant green of them turning onto the prince "Theo.. Let me help. Yes, I can keep Rennar safe, but let me help you, as well. We can deal with.. other things.. once your immediate difficulties are permanetely removed."

Cronus walks onto the Practice Fields from the barracks.

Rudra arrives with Cronus.

Cronus enters glancing about the field, to see who all is about and to which recruits he needs to torture or leave alone...

Turail remains relatively silent, perhaps somewhat uneasy at the personal nature on the conversation going on within his hearing. His eyes rove the field, resting on Cronus briefly and then moving on, the red of his tunic rippling slightly as an afternoon breeze is kicked up.

The three stand off in the distance within the practise yard, Theowyn's personal escort of two guardsman a little off in the distance to allow Turail, Theowyn, and Cende to speak privately. In reaction to Theowyn's words, the First Prince does not smile. Far from it. He does nod, taking a deep breath as though feeling the edge of duty. "There is still much that needs to be discussed, yes, and in shorter time then the matters of Andoran security will resolve themselves."

Cende looks at Theo for a long moment before shaking her head, and taking a few steps towards one of the nearby ranged targets. Picking up a set of the practice knives there, she calmly and professionally tosses the first pair well - having them land as they are aimed, within the man-shaped target's throat and heart. Her voice comes back to Theowyn and Turail lowly "I will do what I can, as long as you tell me what you need done. I can do more than you in some ways." She picks up the next knife, and switching to her offhand manages a credible throw. Her second falls short however, and she winces in pain as she rubs her shoulder and adds on slightly ruefully "As long as you don't ask me to throw anything from the left for a while longer.."

The First Prince follows Cende the steps that she takes closer to the target, and then a few more steps closer then he was previous. His hand touches upon her shoulder, the healthy one. "Patience, Cende. Patience." The words are soft, lightly spoken for only those immidiately nearby.

Frowns as she brings her hand away from the shoulder, a light stain of blood now visible on the shirt, and a few drops that soaked through on her hand "I had no idea it would take this long to heal" she says softly, "and this is the fourth time it's broken open again." Her eyes are tight as she looks up to the Prince, the emotional pain deep in them now covered by the physical pain. "I.. think it needs to be bandaged. Again."

Theowyn's eyes avoid Cende, for the most part, as he steps away. "Come, Cende. We will insure that is treated here," he comments quietly, that tension still on his voice. But there is concern as well, especially at the sight of the blood. Taking a deep breath, he begins to step toward the front courtyard. "I'm sure a Wisdom will help with that."

Nodding quietly, Cende follows the Prince towards the Palace, the bloodstain on her shoulder standing out brilliantly against the light fabric of her shirt. She holds her arm at an awkward angle as she moves.

Wisdom's Room: Royal Palace of Andor, Caemlyn(#1581RJLz$)

Cende comes into the room.

A wisdom follows the pair into the small chambers she has arranged for healings. The smalll room is rather comfortable, though clearly just barely enough for three or four to function. At the end of the chambers a bed spreads across, and to this place the Wisdom leads Cende. Theowyn stands at the door, a concern set in his eyes.

Following the wisdom, Cende sits on the bed. As she reaches to untie the laces of her blouse, the Wisdom turns, to shoo the Prince out. "It's okay.." Cende's low voice is firm "He can stay, he.. it's okay." The wisdom frowns, but allows it, and wraps a blanket around the injured woman's body to preserve her modesty. The injury on her shoulder is messy, the arrow that went through was barbed, and it has not yet been completely healed. Several of the stiches through mangled flesh have torn, and it is these that are weeping with blood.

Theowyn finds a wall to lean up against, his eyes briefly drifting in the direction of the women, though he otherwise stares blankly at the empty wall. "It has likely been too long for an Aes Sedai to take a look at it, though if it still bleads it may Heal better," Theowyn suggests, his voice strained as they are nearly alone, but for the Wisdom.

Cende shakes her head, watching as the Wisdom cleans the wound and tuts over the state of it. "No, it's all right. There are other people who more need their hel.." She stops, and blinks, remembering where she is now. Her hand wraps itself in a sheet, straining hard to keep from making a sound as the Wisdom places neat, firm stiches once more into the wound. The dark leather of her wrist-sheathes stand out against her paler skin, and the thin metal wire wrapped around her wrist glitters lightly.

Though not instantly aware of the stitching, on the next sweep of Theowyn's gaze, he does become all too aware of Cende's pain. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath, before pushing away from the wall and heading toward the bed where Cende and the Wisdom are. "It would be but a moment of their time," Theowyn tries to downplay the matter, wishing her to get Healed. He offers his hand to her, eyes just above her so not to accidentaly spot out what he has before been privledged too, just in case that blanket doesn't cover her well.

The Wisdom pauses in her stitching to make sure the blanket *is* firmly covering Cende. Cende gives a small, tight smile and places her hand into the Prince's, her fingers tightening as the healing woman begins once again "It's.." a soft gasp "allright, Theo, it'll heal naturally, and I'm sure the Aes Sedai have better things to do than to fix someone who was stupid enough to put herself in the way of an arrow. Besides, it's mostly healed, they just said it had to go from the inside out, and if those idiot footpads hadn't tried .." Another gasp, and her voice fades as she tightens her jaw.

"I read the report," Theowyn does acknowledge that much, finally looking down to Cende when he has convinced himself doing so would not be inproper. Theowyn's fingers spread in between her own, as he grasps the hand tighter with the next wave of pain. "Rarely would one be able to put themselves in a way of an arrow on purpose, my..." Theowyn stops there, features darkening. "Cende, I am glad you have returned."

Waiting until the Wisdom has finished the stitching and bandaging, Cende thanks the older woman, and grimaces at the bloodstain in her shirt. Looking up, she attempts to meet Theowyn's eyes "I wasn't sure, anymore." A tremulous smile "You have a princess now. She's beautiful." Her voice drops, then as she changes the subject, she attempts to tease, although her voice does not reflect the tone of the words "Do you still read all the reports, then?"

"Certain reports are well marked for urgent reading," Theowyn notes, returning a half smile that touches his eyes. But there is concern too, the flow of his feelings for Cende being the source of his anguish. And there is far more anguish to bare, though he accepts this above everything, in hopes of seeing Cende. "You have seen the Princess?" Theowyn asks, the tone as meek as he could manage, considering the subject.

Cende drops her eyes, releases the Prince's hand, and attempts to redress herself wincing as she pulls the shirt over her head. A light moisture on her cheek could be explained away as tears from the physical pain, should they be noticed. Finally slipping off the bed, she stands, still not raising her eyes "Only once, at night. I was in the garden, watching over Rennar. She was on the balcony, talking to Renford. I only saw her briefly, in profile, before her guard escorted her in.

"Leave us," Theowyn's voice is a bit too commanding as he addressed the Wisdom, his eyes reaching for Cende's gaze. He retrieves the hand that she had pulled away once Cende dresses herself. Only then does he look to the Wisdom, offering a reassuing smile. "My apologize Wisdom, if we could use your office for a short time, it would be appreciated."

The Wisdom, old enough to know perfectly well that men and women together in a room with a bed cannot be trusted, looks for a long moment before murmering "Yes, Your Highness", and stepping out, pulling the door closed behind her.

They would be far too close to the bed for anyone's liking, but to think the Prince would be driven by lust to such extremes to take her within this room, so small, and while the woman still stuffers from the pain of stitching? In truth, the room of the Wisdom does make the man a touch uncomfortable, though not as much as a room would filled with the sick. Taking Cende's hand, he lifts it to his heart, pressing her touch against his chest. "Talking to Renford?" The question is but a whisper.

Eyes, sheened with moisture, flick up to Theowyn's face briefly, then drop once again. She sighs softly, and answers his unspoken question softly "All I heard was that he addressed her as Princess, and said he would be returning to his home. She said.. she was sorry. I believe that it was if she made him uncomfortable. I wasn't listening to them, I caught the names only because I was trying to make out who they were." A faint smile "I have become more suspicious of folk since.." She stops. "But my charge was Rennar. They were not a threat. I did not listen to them, merely watched out for herself and Lord Turail."

Theowyn's hand rests on Cende's cheek, as he brushes away a few tears with the stroke of his thumb. "The protection of the Daughter-Heir is of priority, Cende. If there is a threat for the position of Queen, Rennar will be in as much danger as Aislynn, and without the benefit of protection that Aislynn shares. At least not until now." Though his words are of business, his thoughts are elsewhere, and it shows by the tone in his voice. Even as he brushes her cheek, he does at the same time hold her at that close distance. "Those of the Kandori party keep a close eye on me, Cende, as well as they should. I do not think they believe all of them feel ties with Andor are the best route to go, as a marriage between myself and Elyse would tie together an alliance that would be of benefit in the war. If only their border disputes could be settled as well, though I am working on that." Theowyn pauses briefly for another deep breath. "I am beginning to believe that Illian will join Murandy in this war. This attempt of Renford to show otherwise points more to the obvious."

Accepting the discussion as it is, Cende stands quietly

Accepting the discussion as it is, Cende stands quietly at the distance dictated by the man she loves so. Head slightly bowed, she listens as his words flow over her, only turning her cheek to press it against his hand.

"Rennar will be protected, by her husband, by her husband's cousin, by myself. You seem to trust Turail, I believe she does as well. It's good that she has those surrounding her to watch for her. I suspect she may be one of the sorts that attracts trouble, based on what Turail said. The Kandori.. if they do not believe you are good for their Princess, then they are blind" She says this with some heat, although at the same time a tone of unhappiness underlies the words "As of the time I left, though, Arafel and Kandor had declared a cease fire. That was the only reason I was allowed.." She stops once again. "But this Renford. Theo.." She swallows, and starts again "I could.. see if there's anything.. in his apartments.." She trails off.

Theowyn's fingers curl across Cende's cheek, those intense blue eyes quietly watching. "I will come to see you, I promise, when I know my thoughts to be clearer." Again, more whispers as though someone would be listening just outside the door. To ask her to do anything of the nature she suggests is obviously a strain on him, as his eyes both fill with warmth and pain. On the one hand his duty to Andor urges him to use whatever means accessible at his hand for the safety of his sister... but at what cost? Theowyn closes his eyes briefly once more. "I could never officially ask you for that, Cende."

A simple nod is all the answer she gives to that subject. A different, closer to her heart, causes her to look up, her eyes wide as she attempts to keep the threatened tears from falling once again. "Theo." The name is softly whispered, but it is enough to make her turn her cheek away from his cupping hand. She attempts to step back, her hand dropping from his chest where it had been over his heartbeat, "I.. it's hard, Theo." A small, slightly bitter smile "I should go. I know how you feel about scandal."

"Be careful in your search," Theowyn finally resigns to that matter of duty, one that sets his heart screaming for a different resolve, not wishing to place Cende in a position of danger. As she steps away, he releases her cheek, eyes coming to her own. The pain twists inside him. "We will have better opportunity soon," he promises once more.

A soft, quiet whisper "Don't make promises to me anymore, Theowyn." She turns away. "I will send word, if I find anything of note" A pause, and then she slowly steps towards the door.

The assassin twists the knife into his heart with those words, Theowyn taking a few steps back until the back hits the wall. "Light, Cende..." it is a pleading, perhaps that for mercy, or for something else. He does not look in her direction, knowing far too well her words are true.

Cende glances back over her shoulder, the tears that had been threatening now falling. She attempts to raise her chin in pride, clearing the tears from her cheeks before reaching for the door "You know, as always, where to find me." With that final, softly spoken statement, she quietly steaps out.

Theowyn's hands go over his own face as Cende steps out, the anguish enough now to set him on the bed with that deep seeded concern. It is still some time before he manages to rise again, eyes flooded with concern as he too heads out the door.