[Log] War and Memories
Tristan comes to Erasmus for an opinion on art for the new bridge over the Oisen.
--[ Tower Observatory ]-----------------------------------[ Royal Palace ]----
You are in a round room, atop the highest tower in Amber. It's not
very large, perhaps fifteen feet across, its stone walls relieved of
monotony by tapestries that hang with bright splashes of color betwixt
the sconces that provide light in the evenings. A small table bearing
a decorative vase abuts one gap between the tapestries, a door leading
downwards stands between two others. The last gap is filled with a
doorway leading onto very small balcony that commands a spectacular
view of the palace yards and the terraces of the city that lie spread
in enduring elegance out to Kolvir's rim. People seem tiny on the
thoroughfares.
Erasmus is here.
--[ views ]---------------------------------------------------[ Exits: D ]----
Tristan has arrived.
The setting sun slants red-gold light through the small balcony and onto the
tapestries. Erasmus, taking it upon himself to rearrange the minimal
furniture, sits before the open air, working closely on a map spread before
him on the now vaseless table.
The footsteps are clearly evident of someone walking up - Tristan doesn't
whistle at this point, but he does appear despite that almost obligatory
factor to his travels being omitted. There is clear surprise that there is
someone else up here, Tristan's art book tucked under an arm. "Erasmus - and
here I thought this was my hiding place." He grins.
Erasmus glances up, sitting straight in his seat. "Oh no, not you too?" he
laughs, drawing a blank sheet absently over his work. "Shall we work out a
time share?"
Tristan chuckles, as he says, "Isabelle and I used to hide up here all the time
as kids." He glances around for the moment, as if remembering, before looking
back to Erasmus and waving his hand dismissively. "It is no worry. Actually,
I had been meaning to find you."
Tristan gestures to a seat. "May I?"
Waving to a nearby chair, Erasmus nods. "It seems to be something of a den of
calm, doesn't it? Wonderful view." He studies Tristan a moment before resting
an arm casually over the back of his seat. "Bringing work into the den?" he
quips. "What did you need?"
Tristan seems amused, as he says, "The map isn't work? What the hell is it,
then?" He takes a seat, setting the book down on the map.
Erasmus eyes the setting of something his hand-drawn map, and shakes his head.
"Just something to pass the time." He reaches to nudge the volume a little
off the parchment.
Tristan says, "I see. Well, in a sense, this is too." He opens his book,
thumbing through it rapidly, a dozen drawings in the fresh book of various
people and places. As he does this, he says, "I'm helping with the bridge
Isabelle is building - she's asked me to design the statues that are to be
built."
Tristan says, "You are a man of war, and I trust you to not be insane. So I
wanted to talk to you about them."
Erasmus's interest is piqued, and he leans in to look. The assumption is met
with a quirked grin. "Well thank you. If you mean sane in the way of simple
and noble views of art, then you've come to the right place."
Tristan says, "Well, I've had so many different ideas. But, I want to show you
the two concepts for each of what she asked for." He flips to a picture of
the bridge, first, just a conceptual rough draft, with the placement across
the river. He says, then, pointing, "These two, coming in from Arden, for
those who enter - the statues I want to put here are meant to be a warning to
those who might attack us again. Symbolic in that sense."
Tristan lifts his finger, and points to the other side, as he says, "And these
two statues on this side are to be memorials for what has already come to
pass, and what may yet. The sadness of the wars that Amber has fought over
her life."
Erasmus nods, listening intently. "Good symbolism," he murmurs.
Tristan smiles, a bit proud, though not of him. "It really was - she was right
about that. It is much better than my original idea. Though," and he flips,
looking for another drawing, "That is where I want your advice."
Erasmus nods, reaching for a small cup of coffee on the perimeter of the table,
which has a small artist brush resting jauntily in it.
Tristan finds the first drawings - statues on pedestals. He says, "I am
thinking of showing. . . different ways we have dealt with things." The first
statue is traditional - a man in armor, a unicorn on his tabard, stout,
determined. His sword lifted up, pointing at whoever is approaching the
bridge. "I want both of these helmed, however. You'll see why, shortly." The
other soldier that would be on the other side is one of Corwin's soldiers,
the furry, odd looking cat like people. Holding a gun, one of those strange,
monstrous weapons that Corwin brought, the butt of the weapon resting on the
ground, held in some manner as if to indicate ease and readiness to use it.
Tristan says, "These haven't inspired me, though. The other two. . . those I've
got nailed down. But not these."
Erasmus nods thoughtfully. "Is the aim to show the many who have aided the
realm?"
Tristan says, "In a sense. But also to serve as a warning."
Tristan says, "And in that, I'm not quite sure how to do it without it being. .
. inappropriate for the honor of the bridge."
"Right," Erasmus confirms. "If you wish to convey the meaning described, I
would... do so in symbolic human forms. I can think of many peoples with
unique features that aided, and choosing one will undoubtably insult any of
them not represented. Just a suggestion, from a political mind."
Tristan nods to that.
Tristan says, "Well, as a warning I can make it more. . . amorphous. However,
for the other statues, I do want specific features. But having that be
symbolic for the warnings. That is fascinating."
Erasmus nods, settling back. "Warnings can be of many symbols. Strength is a
warning to the weak. Arms can be symbolic of readiness, and so on." He sips,
working around the brush.
Tristan says, "Well. That . . . is a good point." He thinks, for a time, as if
studying, and observing things that are going through his mind alone. He
shakes his head, and says, "The other ones I am fairly sure of. However,
again, I want your input on it."
Erasmus rubs his chin, asking, "The memorials, eh? Tricky, with two to sum up
so many memories."
Tristan says, "I know. However, there is one thing that we can count on from so
many wars." He flips the page, again, to reveal the other two statues. Both
are human - the first one is in heavy armor, the sort of armor not
traditionally warn by Amber troops in quite some time. It speaks of older
times, certainly older than Erasmus or Tristan. Even in that massive armor,
the shoulders are sagging, the head is lowered. There is strain, its heavy
sword strapped on the back, walking towards Amber. The other one is a soldier
in modern uniform and armor, his helmet held in hand. His hair is matted
against his face, and there is exhaustion. The free hand holds a sword, held
lowered and across, to keep it from touching the ground. Not looking at
Amber, either, this soldier is looking over his shoulder, grief and
exhaustion etched on every facet of the soldier's features.
Tristan says, "And that is grief."
Erasmus frowns at the image, and is silent a moment. Then, somewhat stiffly,
"That is not how I would want Amber remembered. I recognize it is a
consequence of war, but a bridge such as this, in a sense, writes history.
That is not a manner I would want -my- men immortalized."
Tristan looks at Erasmus, seeming, perhaps, a bit surprised. "You think any of
us want what has come to pass?"
"No, but this is not an exercise in realism," Erasmus replies, looking up at
the young man. "This is an exercise in lifting spirit. Few need a statue to
be reminded of grief, but they dearly need to be reminded of hope, recovery
and triumph."
Tristan thinks for a time. "One of them, perhaps, then? I understand where
you're coming from, but this is not the sort of bridge where I want people to
hear a military marching band whenever they walk across it. One that was
spirit lifting?" He points towards the ancient soldier. "That one could be
removed, and replaced with something a bit more reinforcing."
Tristan gestures towards the one looking over his shoulder. "And I think that
one would be far more tolerable to you as a result, wouldn't it?"
Erasmus nods slowly, though it is hesitant. "It would be more acceptable."
Tristan says, glancing up at Erasmus, "How long have you been a soldier?"
Erasmus furrows his brows briefly. "About four and a half centuries, all of it
in the service of the Hounds and Crown." He sets the coffee slash paint down,
settling back.
Tristan leans back and says, "Obviously, I haven't been a soldier that long.
Hell, not only have I never been a soldier, but I've not even been alive that
long, either." He watches Erasmus as he says this, before inquiring, "Do you
know what I have been, though?"
"I recognize a great number of ways to serve Amber," Erasmus reminds, a small
smile cracking the sudden melancholy. "What have you been, sir?"
Tristan smiles faintly, as he says, "A guardian. In some senses I have the
vulgarity to not understand all of what I am working on. And other hand I
have sacrificed so much, including, I thought, my life, that I feel it does a
disservice for us to not address the personal. In one, we can see the
strength of all, the spirit lifted, as if a crowd were to walk by and observe
and honor, and salute."
Tristan says, "And in the other statue, so that person, in their grief and worn
down nature - so that all may walk by, and he may not be alone in that
moment."
Tristan says, "Because none of us, when we had them - and we all have - none of
us wanted to be alone, looking over our shoulder."
Erasmus considers that in silence, before nodding more firmly. "I see what you
mean. But..." He sucks in a breath, saying instead, "It is a good idea. I'd
be interested in seeing the result. Very interested."
Tristan says, "But what?"
Tristan smiles, faintly, brown eyes studying Erasmus. "We're all big boys,
here."
Erasmus doesn't seem pleased with being run to ground about the unspoken
thought, and shakes his head. "Personal things, young sir. Nothing that
discourages your task here. When do you think you will be able to commission
the sculptor?"
Tristan answers, "Soon. I want Isabelle's approval, as well. And I'm also going
to talk to Gerard about this."
"Very good choice," Erasmus replies. "Prince Gerard has always been steadfast,
much like stone taken form."
Tristan replies, "He's the only one of them I trust, you know. Other than
Isabelle." He leans back, using his foot to catch the edge of the book and
shut it.
Tristan says, "But thank you for taking the time, I appreciate it."
"And thank you for thinking of showing these to me," Erasmus counters
seriously. "It seems the bridge is coming along in the best possible way."
Tristan replies, "It has the best architect possible." He leans forward,
picking up the book and saying, "Enjoy your coffee. Just don't let everyone
know about this place."
Tristan winks, faintly.
Erasmus laughs quietly, crossing his chest with a finger. "It is safe with me.
Good day, sir."
Tristan nods to that. "Good day, Erasmus." He turns and walks out, then,
whistling to himself.
--[ Tower Observatory ]-----------------------------------[ Royal Palace ]----
You are in a round room, atop the highest tower in Amber. It's not
very large, perhaps fifteen feet across, its stone walls relieved of
monotony by tapestries that hang with bright splashes of color betwixt
the sconces that provide light in the evenings. A small table bearing
a decorative vase abuts one gap between the tapestries, a door leading
downwards stands between two others. The last gap is filled with a
doorway leading onto very small balcony that commands a spectacular
view of the palace yards and the terraces of the city that lie spread
in enduring elegance out to Kolvir's rim. People seem tiny on the
thoroughfares.
Erasmus is here.
--[ views ]---------------------------------------------------[ Exits: D ]----
Tristan has arrived.
The setting sun slants red-gold light through the small balcony and onto the
tapestries. Erasmus, taking it upon himself to rearrange the minimal
furniture, sits before the open air, working closely on a map spread before
him on the now vaseless table.
The footsteps are clearly evident of someone walking up - Tristan doesn't
whistle at this point, but he does appear despite that almost obligatory
factor to his travels being omitted. There is clear surprise that there is
someone else up here, Tristan's art book tucked under an arm. "Erasmus - and
here I thought this was my hiding place." He grins.
Erasmus glances up, sitting straight in his seat. "Oh no, not you too?" he
laughs, drawing a blank sheet absently over his work. "Shall we work out a
time share?"
Tristan chuckles, as he says, "Isabelle and I used to hide up here all the time
as kids." He glances around for the moment, as if remembering, before looking
back to Erasmus and waving his hand dismissively. "It is no worry. Actually,
I had been meaning to find you."
Tristan gestures to a seat. "May I?"
Waving to a nearby chair, Erasmus nods. "It seems to be something of a den of
calm, doesn't it? Wonderful view." He studies Tristan a moment before resting
an arm casually over the back of his seat. "Bringing work into the den?" he
quips. "What did you need?"
Tristan seems amused, as he says, "The map isn't work? What the hell is it,
then?" He takes a seat, setting the book down on the map.
Erasmus eyes the setting of something his hand-drawn map, and shakes his head.
"Just something to pass the time." He reaches to nudge the volume a little
off the parchment.
Tristan says, "I see. Well, in a sense, this is too." He opens his book,
thumbing through it rapidly, a dozen drawings in the fresh book of various
people and places. As he does this, he says, "I'm helping with the bridge
Isabelle is building - she's asked me to design the statues that are to be
built."
Tristan says, "You are a man of war, and I trust you to not be insane. So I
wanted to talk to you about them."
Erasmus's interest is piqued, and he leans in to look. The assumption is met
with a quirked grin. "Well thank you. If you mean sane in the way of simple
and noble views of art, then you've come to the right place."
Tristan says, "Well, I've had so many different ideas. But, I want to show you
the two concepts for each of what she asked for." He flips to a picture of
the bridge, first, just a conceptual rough draft, with the placement across
the river. He says, then, pointing, "These two, coming in from Arden, for
those who enter - the statues I want to put here are meant to be a warning to
those who might attack us again. Symbolic in that sense."
Tristan lifts his finger, and points to the other side, as he says, "And these
two statues on this side are to be memorials for what has already come to
pass, and what may yet. The sadness of the wars that Amber has fought over
her life."
Erasmus nods, listening intently. "Good symbolism," he murmurs.
Tristan smiles, a bit proud, though not of him. "It really was - she was right
about that. It is much better than my original idea. Though," and he flips,
looking for another drawing, "That is where I want your advice."
Erasmus nods, reaching for a small cup of coffee on the perimeter of the table,
which has a small artist brush resting jauntily in it.
Tristan finds the first drawings - statues on pedestals. He says, "I am
thinking of showing. . . different ways we have dealt with things." The first
statue is traditional - a man in armor, a unicorn on his tabard, stout,
determined. His sword lifted up, pointing at whoever is approaching the
bridge. "I want both of these helmed, however. You'll see why, shortly." The
other soldier that would be on the other side is one of Corwin's soldiers,
the furry, odd looking cat like people. Holding a gun, one of those strange,
monstrous weapons that Corwin brought, the butt of the weapon resting on the
ground, held in some manner as if to indicate ease and readiness to use it.
Tristan says, "These haven't inspired me, though. The other two. . . those I've
got nailed down. But not these."
Erasmus nods thoughtfully. "Is the aim to show the many who have aided the
realm?"
Tristan says, "In a sense. But also to serve as a warning."
Tristan says, "And in that, I'm not quite sure how to do it without it being. .
. inappropriate for the honor of the bridge."
"Right," Erasmus confirms. "If you wish to convey the meaning described, I
would... do so in symbolic human forms. I can think of many peoples with
unique features that aided, and choosing one will undoubtably insult any of
them not represented. Just a suggestion, from a political mind."
Tristan nods to that.
Tristan says, "Well, as a warning I can make it more. . . amorphous. However,
for the other statues, I do want specific features. But having that be
symbolic for the warnings. That is fascinating."
Erasmus nods, settling back. "Warnings can be of many symbols. Strength is a
warning to the weak. Arms can be symbolic of readiness, and so on." He sips,
working around the brush.
Tristan says, "Well. That . . . is a good point." He thinks, for a time, as if
studying, and observing things that are going through his mind alone. He
shakes his head, and says, "The other ones I am fairly sure of. However,
again, I want your input on it."
Erasmus rubs his chin, asking, "The memorials, eh? Tricky, with two to sum up
so many memories."
Tristan says, "I know. However, there is one thing that we can count on from so
many wars." He flips the page, again, to reveal the other two statues. Both
are human - the first one is in heavy armor, the sort of armor not
traditionally warn by Amber troops in quite some time. It speaks of older
times, certainly older than Erasmus or Tristan. Even in that massive armor,
the shoulders are sagging, the head is lowered. There is strain, its heavy
sword strapped on the back, walking towards Amber. The other one is a soldier
in modern uniform and armor, his helmet held in hand. His hair is matted
against his face, and there is exhaustion. The free hand holds a sword, held
lowered and across, to keep it from touching the ground. Not looking at
Amber, either, this soldier is looking over his shoulder, grief and
exhaustion etched on every facet of the soldier's features.
Tristan says, "And that is grief."
Erasmus frowns at the image, and is silent a moment. Then, somewhat stiffly,
"That is not how I would want Amber remembered. I recognize it is a
consequence of war, but a bridge such as this, in a sense, writes history.
That is not a manner I would want -my- men immortalized."
Tristan looks at Erasmus, seeming, perhaps, a bit surprised. "You think any of
us want what has come to pass?"
"No, but this is not an exercise in realism," Erasmus replies, looking up at
the young man. "This is an exercise in lifting spirit. Few need a statue to
be reminded of grief, but they dearly need to be reminded of hope, recovery
and triumph."
Tristan thinks for a time. "One of them, perhaps, then? I understand where
you're coming from, but this is not the sort of bridge where I want people to
hear a military marching band whenever they walk across it. One that was
spirit lifting?" He points towards the ancient soldier. "That one could be
removed, and replaced with something a bit more reinforcing."
Tristan gestures towards the one looking over his shoulder. "And I think that
one would be far more tolerable to you as a result, wouldn't it?"
Erasmus nods slowly, though it is hesitant. "It would be more acceptable."
Tristan says, glancing up at Erasmus, "How long have you been a soldier?"
Erasmus furrows his brows briefly. "About four and a half centuries, all of it
in the service of the Hounds and Crown." He sets the coffee slash paint down,
settling back.
Tristan leans back and says, "Obviously, I haven't been a soldier that long.
Hell, not only have I never been a soldier, but I've not even been alive that
long, either." He watches Erasmus as he says this, before inquiring, "Do you
know what I have been, though?"
"I recognize a great number of ways to serve Amber," Erasmus reminds, a small
smile cracking the sudden melancholy. "What have you been, sir?"
Tristan smiles faintly, as he says, "A guardian. In some senses I have the
vulgarity to not understand all of what I am working on. And other hand I
have sacrificed so much, including, I thought, my life, that I feel it does a
disservice for us to not address the personal. In one, we can see the
strength of all, the spirit lifted, as if a crowd were to walk by and observe
and honor, and salute."
Tristan says, "And in the other statue, so that person, in their grief and worn
down nature - so that all may walk by, and he may not be alone in that
moment."
Tristan says, "Because none of us, when we had them - and we all have - none of
us wanted to be alone, looking over our shoulder."
Erasmus considers that in silence, before nodding more firmly. "I see what you
mean. But..." He sucks in a breath, saying instead, "It is a good idea. I'd
be interested in seeing the result. Very interested."
Tristan says, "But what?"
Tristan smiles, faintly, brown eyes studying Erasmus. "We're all big boys,
here."
Erasmus doesn't seem pleased with being run to ground about the unspoken
thought, and shakes his head. "Personal things, young sir. Nothing that
discourages your task here. When do you think you will be able to commission
the sculptor?"
Tristan answers, "Soon. I want Isabelle's approval, as well. And I'm also going
to talk to Gerard about this."
"Very good choice," Erasmus replies. "Prince Gerard has always been steadfast,
much like stone taken form."
Tristan replies, "He's the only one of them I trust, you know. Other than
Isabelle." He leans back, using his foot to catch the edge of the book and
shut it.
Tristan says, "But thank you for taking the time, I appreciate it."
"And thank you for thinking of showing these to me," Erasmus counters
seriously. "It seems the bridge is coming along in the best possible way."
Tristan replies, "It has the best architect possible." He leans forward,
picking up the book and saying, "Enjoy your coffee. Just don't let everyone
know about this place."
Tristan winks, faintly.
Erasmus laughs quietly, crossing his chest with a finger. "It is safe with me.
Good day, sir."
Tristan nods to that. "Good day, Erasmus." He turns and walks out, then,
whistling to himself.