Cillian takes high quality leather Chest of the wilds from a waterproof brown canvas pouch.

Cillian takes High Quality leather arms, of the wilds from a waterproof brown canvas pouch.

Cillian puts woolen socks with embroidered cheese wheels in a waterproof brown canvas pouch.

Cillian puts Black Rose's Nocturne Leather Frock Coat in a waterproof brown canvas pouch.

It seems there's trouble at the Rogelivitti Vineyards again, once more potentially threatening the production of Leonisan Red wines. This time a section of the vineyard has caught fire, destroying some of the anticipated crops for the growing season. The vinters are beside themselves and have asked for help in finding the culprit, as they are almost certain it was a case of arson. House Velenosa has asked investigators from near and far to look into the matter and report back to them with details, as they are just about done with treats to their vineyards. On top of being paid, a bonus offer of several bottles of wine per person was made, sweetening the incentives, for those who like wine, aid in the investigation.

Those answering the call would have been given room and board at one of the inns in Velenosa, a fine establishment with a good bed and equally good eats. When the group has all arrived to the city and is ready to travers to the vineyards, a carriage arrives to bring them to the premises. As they roll in, the damage to the vineyard is clear; one of the sections of the carefully crafted grape arbors shows obvious signs of fire damage. Those sections that survive the fire immediately surrounding the obviously damaged areas show signs of secondary damage, but unlike the original area they should eventually recover and survive. That harvest, however, is ruined, leaving the vinters to wait until the next batch of grapes are ready for harvest.

There are workers in the field tending to the various other arbors, with supervisors carefully watching for any signs of untoward business. None seem surprised to see the carriage. One supervisor awaits the group's arrival near to where the carriage stops.

It's no secret Lady Eirene is looking for top wines and liquors for a fundraiser, so it's not surprising she'd offer to help track down the arsonists. Free and/or discounted wines are a good thing when you're trying to host a gala tasting event. She watches the countryside roll by until they arrive at the vineyard, where she lifts a hand to greet the party awaiting them.

It is, fairly, a good while since Patrizio Pravus has been in this portion of the Lyceum, not since... well, long enough. The view of the burned sections of vines draws a hint of a scowl from him, and the shake of his head, before he murmurs softly, "I often enjoy a hint of smoke in my drink, but that'd be whiskeys, not wines. Seems a grand shame for one to have decided for some reason that this was an appropriate course of action."

Standing in front of the fire damage to the vineyard, Medeia is left with a deeply saddened look on her face. She had come to help as best shae can, lending whatever expertise a fellow vinter can lend when faced with malicious acts against one's livelihood. To those greeting her party of helpers, she turns a soft smile, summoning it from years of experience having to reassure the sick and grieving. She glances from Eirene to Patrizio. "Even the fruits on the vine will transfer a smoke finish, if used..." Her head shakes gently. "The soil will be beneficial, though." A small scrunch of her nose, then, as she looks around more.

With winter well and truly set in at Arx, Grady is not at Arx, having chosen (well, been sent) to vacation somewhere warmer in the hopes of him not getting seriously ill, like he does almost every winter. It's hard to tell how well this plan has worked; he looks, as he always looks, thin and fragile, wrapped up in warm clothes and a very warm wool scarf, enough fabric to all but swallow his emaciated frame. But his hazel eyes are also bright, his thin features animated and mobile, a warm smile coming and going around his mouth by degrees, never quite vanishing entirely. He was supposed to be here for a tour, but finds his arrival to be a considerably less happy occasion. "And so disheartening, yes, for those who have worked for so long cultivating the vines. I am told, aren't I, that it rather takes years, and a great deal of expertise. Such a tragedy, to see the, ah, the fruits of their labors, as it were, consumed by the ravages of fire." His ever-present smile is at an ebb just at the moment, a hint of sadness softening his eyes. "I cannot imagine, really I can't, who could have been so callous as to do this. Are they certain that it must be arson?"

Cillian nods his head as he hears Patrizio, "I agree, your highness." he had heard of what happened and with his resent friendship with the Archdutchess he felt he should come see in what way he could help. He watches the hill sides pass by and does not say much more till they arrive, seeing the damage he shakes his head, coming from understanding how important crops can be. When they are ruined its devastating.

The person greeting them is a shorter, stocky man with some heft around his build. He's dressed for working out doors, in a simple set of garments that are partially stained with either grape juice or wine. When one works on a farm, one is not too picky about their wardrobe. His fingers are also likewise stained, suggesting he might pull double duty between supervising and being a hands on worker; although it could be a special circumstance int his case. "Greeting and welcome. I'm Frescio," he introduces himself. "Thank you for coming as quickly as you did. I know some of you had to travel from afar. I have been assured that you are most skilled and experienced in dealing with these sorts of situations." Even if they are not, he seems to surely believe that they are. "What would you like to do first? Speak with the workers or take a look at the grounds?" It seems Frescio is there to serve as their guide around the vineyards or maybe as their watchdog. He looks to Grady at his question. "We believe it so. We've questioned our people and none seem to know how the fires started. There were no storms and no other way for it to happen, that we can see."

Eirene glances at the others as if asking ' who wants to go first?' Eyerbrows raised, posture slightly forward. But she decides she may as well. "Maybe if we look around firstt? But what other wineries are you in competition with? Or have there been any disgruntled employees recently?" she interrogtes Frescio. "Someone either stands to profit or get revenge if it's unnatural."

"Messere Frescio, well met," Medeia dips her head. "Lady Medeia Saik, Voice and Minister of the Hearth for Saikland Greens." She looks to the others around her when the question is asked. "I would like to take a closer look at the grounds and the damage, Messere." When Eirene asks her question, the Saik lady tilts her head with curiosity.

Patrizio nods, as if to agree with Eirene and Medeia, as he's kneeling briefly to dip his fingers into the earth, rubbing some of it between his palms as he's contemplating it for a few moments. "I think, to agree with the good ladies, that we should definitely look about first. Let us see what there is to see, that our questions to the staff would be more informed. For those of us who aren't vintners, but only enjoy the results of their labours and patience." A soft sound before he murmurs lightly to the others, "At last, my predilection for use of Fire comes in both handy and useful, without fear for others' safety?"

"Such a pleasure to meet you, Master Frescio." Grady radiates a warm and gentle concern as the group disembarks from their carriage and advances to meet with Frescio. That, and a certain amount of nausea, visible as a slight pallor to his features; it was a rough and jostling carriage ride on the way over. "I, ah. I don't suppose it would be asking too much to request a little bit more of the history of this place? Just while we walk, of course. A bit of narration accompanying our tour of the grounds. I wouldn't, would I, want to hold up any more important investigation through such an overview, but do you know, one rather likes to, ah, to have a bit of a study, yes? Before one is called upon, as it were, to perform. Goodness! How fortunate we are, aren't we, to have placed at our disposal such a capable guide." A warm smile is growing across his features as he speaks, starting small, but overtaking, by degrees, mouth, cheeks, eyes, until his entire countenance radiates that smile. "Incomparably capable, I am quite certain. I feel myself to be in good hands."

Cillian nods his head to Frescio, "Lord Cillian Blackwood." he speaks with a heavy northern accent. Cillian eyes the prince, he nods in agreement with Medeia and Patrizio, "MY friends here are correct." the scout in him wants to get out there to look, "My worry is, with people being out there can the evidence already been lost?"

Frescio bows his head as they make their wishes known. "If you would follow me?" he queries, taking them all in before he turns to lead them in the direction of the destroyed fields. He pauses to give Grady a look when he asks about the history of the vineyard, not quite certain how to respond to that. Finally, he decides on the truth, which may be a rare countenance for a Lycene. "The Rogelivitti Vineyard is steeped in scandal, I'm afraid, one which we all thought came to pass after the last interloper was sentenced to death by drinking copious amounts of wine by the Archduchess. He sought to destroy the trade of the Velenosian Red and during that crisis there was a steep shortage felt all across Arvum." It's the sort of truth that is already out there, after all, and easy to find should anyone wish to dig it up. "Since that time, things here have been well and truly settled and everyone has gotten back into a good pace of work. All have been in good spirits, until this happened. Which is why this is so baffling." And he well and truly looks baffled in that moment as he tries to contemplate matters.

It is a short walk to the area, through a whole other field first before they get to the one they need. For some that walk might feel like a breeze, others something never to be endured again. It is a farm after all, and farms tend to be vast. It is easier to see the damage done to the vines up close and personal. "As for evidence, we have done our best to keep people out of the area until someone could arrive to do a proper investigation. The loss of the vines affects all of our livelihoods."

Medeia checks perception and agriculture at normal. Medeia is successful.

Eirene checks perception and agriculture at normal. Eirene marginally fails.

Patrizio checks perception and investigation at normal. Patrizio fails.

Cillian checks perception and investigation at normal. Cillian is successful.

"Not particularly my preferred way to die. Though I'd not heard of such - was this a recent sentencing, or sometime in our historical past?" Patrizio himself doesn't seem to mind the walk, as if such a thing is old-hat to him from his campaigning days as a soldier, though the jade eyes scan this way and that while they move along. "And better that we get to the root of this now. It's not just the matter of how this kind of problem festers, but one field burned is a problem for a few seasons. I'd suspect the one we're seeking is liable to repeat, if this is what we think it is." Though he does look about, as if to appraise if others think as he does.

Eirene lets out a single bark of a laugh. Yeah, she remembered that event. but she doesn't appear to see anything which catches her attention so she just follows the foreman and nods as she listens.

The description of the sentence Jaenelle pronounced on the person previously in charge of the vineyard makes Grady's smile falter and his face pale a bit more. "Oh. Oh, my. That, ah. Hmm. Well. Rather a poetic punishment, yes? How... how long ago was... How much time has passed since? I'm afraid I'm rather not up to date on the gossip of the industry." Someone as frail as he is might be expected to be wilting through the long hike, but Grady is also a native to one of the deepest parts of the gray forest, and clearly accustomed, judging by the evenness of his long stride, to long hikes. His attention is on Frescio more than the grounds.

Walking across vast farmland? Medeia may be short, and not exactly athletic in build, but the doing doesn't seem to bother her at all. She listens as the group moves, her attention straying once or twice toward Grady - just making sure he is okay, physician's instincts. Half a smirk comes to Patrizio's quip about preferred ways to die. "Past," She confirms for Patrizio and Grady. Her eyes continue to scan to vines and grounds as they go.

Cillian continues to walk along, he understands sometimes those in the leading position have to make hard choices and sometimes others may not understand but it is what it is. He understands this in a way as a general and sword for house Blackwood, he remains silent as they all continue along. His hazel eyes looking around for any signs of anything odd as they move along.

Medeia frowns and moves away from the group, having spotted something at the far end of the field that she wants to look at more closely. When she gets to the charred - but not entirely burned - vines there, she leans in close frowning. "Have there been any reports of animals in the vineyards?" The question is called out to Frescio before she stoops over and retrieves something off the ground. It is held up and looked at against the sky. Glass. Broken glass.

Cillian reaches a hand out to touch Patrizio's arm and leans in to whisper something, his eyes have become intense and he is watching things a bit more kind of like a hawk does to its pray.

Eirene keens her head at Medeia and goes to join the Saik, humming thoughtfully. "Any residue on it? Like oil or alcohol?" She offers a gloved hand to take the shard for inspection.

"The incident happened in the later half of the last decade," Frescio replies in response to the question on how long ago the original incident happened. "I believe the Archduchess made herself quite clear what would happen should any further incidents such as that occur," he adds conversationally. He casts a sideways glance over at Eirene at her laugh, but carefully obscures any reaction he might have to it. "Our biggest concern is making sure there's no further damage done to the vineyard. It'll strain things a bit, but it shouldn't hamper production too much - if we are able to curb any future issues." He furrows his brow. "It is my hope that even in the destruction, something good can come of it. As someone noted, the fire will have at least helped the soil, somewhat. Not that this particular section needed the help. They were some of the best growth we have." He gives pause at Medeia's question, then shakes his head. "Not that I'm aware. At least, not those that are out of the ordinary. Fox, field mice, the occasional raccoon we need to chase off, snakes..." he goes on to list other smaller animals, nothing large is listed.

Pausing half a step when his arm is touched, Patrizio does nod a bit, though he's intently turning his gaze to see what it is that Medeia's lifting to contemplate against the lighter sky, though his lips move, his voice clearly lowered so as not to let it carry as he's responding to Cillian.

Though in the wake of it, listening to Messere Frescio, the prince of Pravus nods slightly and he's scanning the edges of the field. "It would seem very... interesting that it's the best producing area that was burned, of all the areas of the vineyard."

The shard of glass is handed off to Eirene after Medeia gives it a quick sniff. "Lantern oil?" She looks to Eirene to confirm. "The damage here... These vines are broken. Dead, unfortunately, but they were broken as if by something crashing through or landing on them? People, large animals, a cart?"

Grady is long a veteran of being the subject of a physician's concern, and, recognizing such in the look Medeia casts his way, takes a moment from chattering and questions to give her a reassuring smile. The bracing walk has put small spots of color on his cheeks that would probably be a comfort if they didn't give him a slightly feverish cast. But looking in Medeia's direction to reassure her does also put him looking in her direction when she retrieves the broken glass from the ground. "A broken lamp, do you think? It would not, would it, be the first time such an implement should cause an unfortunate inferno. During my youth, there was a story in a nearby village, yes, a gentleman... goodness, I think his name may have been Bertie or Bernard or Barrymore -- something with a B -- who, or this is the story conveyed to me, at any rate, had the misfortune of breaking such a lamp on, and I know the irony here is rather unbelievable, but I really have no reason to doubt the honesty of the person who told me this story, a pile of papers that were to be his memoirs." His voice is starting to take on an almost hypnotic cadence as he wanders into this story. "Worse, he had, yes, this rather, ah, eccentric... uncle, I think? Or cousin. At any rate, there was a rousing tradition of moonshine in his family, and as one rather would expect, throwing a jug of strong spirits on a fire thinking one is dousing it in water winds up having rather the opposite effect..."

Eirene also sniffs the suspect glass and nods as she confirms with Medeia. "Glass bottle full of lantern oil, or a lantern itself. Maybe a cart they rode through and chucked the bottles out the side." She nods to Grady and goes 'FWOOM' complete with accompanying hand gesture of stuff going up in flames.

Cillian checks dexterity and stealth at normal. Critical Success! Cillian is spectacularly successful.

Ever one to consider all angles, Medeia looks in the direction of the damage, then the direction the damage may have come. "Could this... Have been an unfortunate accident?" She looks toward Frescio, a deep frown darkening her expression. It's Grady's chatter that has her considering the possibility.

Cillian checks dexterity and athletics at easy. Cillian is successful.

"It's terribly, unlikely, of course, for it to be the same sort of accident," Grady muses. "Bailey, or Bowland, was a toymaker, yes, and I can't imagine the fire here should be spread by a cart full of clockwork parrots and joke cushions and teddy bears set alight. But one rather imagines these not to be necessary, yes?"

Cillian nods his head to the prince at something and well, then Cillian was gone? It can be that hard to lose a Northerner is it? The man is just not with the group anymore, he find himself moving back around to where they had past the vines a few feet back something caught his eye or was it someone. The scout move along out of sight along where he watched the man duck to hide himself and well that's where the Northern Lord pops back up, "HI, I like to talk to you." before the man can ask Cillian is on him and wanting to give him a bear hug.

Patrizio turns his head when there's the motion on the edge of the field there, that faint turn of a smile that finds Patrizio as if he might well know /exactly/ where Cillian's gotten to, though he's keeping at least half-an-eye, and an ear, on Grady's contemplation of what it is that's at least a possibility that needs be ruled out or in.

Eirene says, "Wait a sec," as she turns to see what Cillian is up to. "Who's this?" She glances at Cillian before asking Frescio. "One of yours?"

Frescio is completely unaware of people disappearing as he's raptly watching Eirene and Medeia making their calculations about the broken glass. "There was a lantern that went missing recently, but we never tied that to this. Some of the workers who are out late at night often take them home so as not to walk home in the dark. They always bring them back the next day though. This one, though, never came back." A bewildered look falls upon his features as he never before concerned that lantern to be a connected thing. This is also why they called in investigators. He gives a small shudder at the idea that someone might chuck bottles of flaming oil at their vineyard fields "I should hope they would not do that!" he calls out shrilly, looking around hastily as though to see who might think of doing such a thing. Not seeing anyone in particular that fits that bill, he shakes his head. He gives Medeia a look and opens his mouth to respond to her question about an accident, and then Grady is surmising that it's not. And, before he can think to respond to both, another distraction arrives. . .%
"What the?! Get off me! Help! HELP!" comes another shrill call, this time from a younger man, who looks to be fresh out of his teens and into his twenties. He is, at present, being held tight by Cillian in quite the bear hug and seems to be unable to get out of the other man's grip. "LEAVE ME ALONE!" His voice is clearly panicked.

"Then it /could/ ha-" Medeia is thinking that it could have been an accident when her words are cut short by the yelling and sudden appearance of a young man in Cillian's arms. She just sort of gapes at the turn of events for a moment.

Grady was almost certainly not intentionally providing Cillian a distraction through an outlandish story of some poor toymaker's fiery doom, but intentional or not, the high-spirited patter of the tale does leave a lot of room for someone to slip beneath notice. Nor has he distracted himself so much that he's not able to change his focus on a dime as soon as there's something more important for him to turn it towards. "Oh. Goodness! Oh, dear." He picks up his pace to a trot that has absolutely no right being as graceful as it is, given how overlong his arms and legs are compared to the rest of him. "Ah. Hello. Hello there." He smiles at the panicking man for all the world like this is the most ordinary situation in which one might find oneself. "No one intends you harm, my good man. Not the least Lord Cillian. But you do know, yes, the northerners are such an affectionate people. Incorrigible, but of course that cannot be so much a comfort when such affection is expressed out of nowhere, yes?"

Grady checks charm and diplomacy at normal. Grady is successful.

Eirene grunts a little and folds her arms over her chest. "Cillian may be the hugging type, but I'm..." She stops as grady trties to be more charming than she can be so she just lets him take point with this.

Cillian holds the man and brings him over to the group, "Hugging type?" the Northern lord asks as he places the young man down on his feet but still holds onto him.

"I think you should just go with it, my lord," Patrizio offers softly to Cillian when others are making apology for the matter, though the prince himself is keeping some eye on Messere Frescio while the others are attempting to calm their new companion, his hand alighting briefly as if natural to rest on the pommel of his sword. "Hopefully this helps to allow us to start to narrow down the possibilities of what's happened here."

The young man is practically half dragged, half picked up as he struggles to get away from Cillian, still quite unable to break the lord's hold of him. "LET ME GO. LEAVE ME ALONE. HELP!" he calls out once more, certainly catching some attention of the others nearby. However, those others do not seem to come to the young man's aid. Rather, they seem intent on stopping what they are doing and just watching. They are Lycene, after all, and a good scandal can be as entertaining as some other enterprising affairs. It'll be gossip fodder for weeks to come in these parts. "STOP HUGGING ME!" he belts out the last part when everyone keeps talking about hugging, which may or may not bring some amusement to a few faces. However, Grady starts talking him down and talking about how northerns act and so he starts to listen and some of his struggles become a bit less. Then he's set down on his feet before the others and he goes still, looking for all the world like a deer caught in a very bright light, uncertain of what to do.

Frescio, for his part, is watching all of this happening very calmly, not letting the slightest bit of upset or reaction fall upon his features. He presses his lips a moment as he gauges the situation, then turns toward Eirene when he is asked if the young man is one of his. "I'm afraid so," he says with deep dismay, in such a way that suggests that the young man might just be connected to Frescio in more than just the worker to supervisor sense. There is, in fact, a familial resemblance between them.

Grady removes a waxed paper packet from his pants pocket and offers it towards the subject of Cillian's 'affectionate greeting'. "I don't suppose you would like a piece of candied ginger, good sir? It does wonders for the digestion, yes, and, ah. And the nerves. It is, isn't it, perhaps a bit on the sticky side, yes? But a treat for the palate, nonetheless. Please do take some, Master... ah. Oh dear. How terribly careless of me. I've forgotten to ask your name, haven't I?"

Medeia stares at Cillian and the young man for a long moment before she realizes how very calm Frescio is in all of this. Her gaze flicks from him to the younger man, then back again. "Oh dear." Her lips press thin. Then she begins to walk toward the group again, coming to a stop a few steps from Patrizio. "I believe we have found our culprit."

"We'll see." Patrizio's tone isn't one hundred percent convinced as he nods to Medeia at her assumption, all while he is keeping an eye on Frescio to some extent, as if he too has marked how the supervisor's conducting himself in the heat of the moment. "Nothing's settled truly until it all is, and I've heard in some quarters that the truth's often more strange than any fiction we could dream up."

Eirene continues to glare, silently, expectantly. Waiting for answers. She looks at his hands and clothes, looking for traces of smoke, soot, or oily stains.

Cillian feels the young man calm his arms come from around him. but his hand has a death grip on the young man's shoulder. his eyes narrow slightly looking over at Fresco and back. He looks between them all.

The young man seems to wither under Frescio's dismayed look. There's definitely a guilty look about him. He glances to Grady once more and seems to edge toward the man that feels 'safe'; meaning he's also edging away from his own father as well. He doesn't take the candy that's offered, he's too nervous to even look at it except in the brief moment he glances to the crackling paper than back to the others. At Grady's question on his name, he stumbles out a very stuttered, "Martello." He swallows quickly afterwards and looks for all the world like he wants to shrink into the ground, particularly when he spies the piece of glass that has been passed around between Eirene and Medeia. He does not look like he's about to readily spit out any information though, even under all of those stares.

Frescio continues to stare down his son. The longer his son doesn't talk, the deeper his dismayed expression becomes. "Martello. . . " he begins to say, and that's all it takes.

"I didn't mean it. Please don't turn me into the Archduchess!" Martello breaks. "I don't wanna die!" he cries out, more than a bit melodramatically. This causes some of the workers to roll their eyes, of those who are left standing around to watch everything.

Eirene gives him a 'mom' glare "What did you do," she prompts, using the voice which says 'I'm gonna find out, better if you tell me first'.

The exclamation from Martello has Grady putting the candy back in his pocket without generally offering it around. "I can't imagine that the Archduchess is in the habit of punishing honest mistakes," he assures the young man with an encouraging smile. "Tell us what happened, and I'm certain this whole mess can be sorted out, yes?"

Medeia moves - cautiously - closer to Martello, her expression softened with concern for the young man. She's about to ask a similar question when Eirene speaks up. Instead, she reaches out to place a steadying hand on his arm and give the young man an encouraging look. "Please tell us what happened. We cannot /fix/ this, but we can take steps to minimize the impact of the damage. I am certain the archduchess would be understanding if you promise to assist - and do so in earnest."

Given that he is not /of/ the Lyceum, Patrizio clearly cannot speak to any assurances against death, but he draws breath, and lets it free before he speaks. "But moreover, honesty is a better course than holding a thing to oneself. Because lies breed in darkness - leaving things unsaid just leaves us to assume the worst."

Cillian sighs as he shakes his head, " If it was a accident why hide it if you knew people would come." he looks to the boys father.

Frescio doesn't seem to be offering Martello any help at all. Rather, he crosses his arms and simply waits a killer look of disappointment.

That look of disappointment, combined with the mom voice from Eirene seem to crack Martello even further. He can't stand it any more, so he blurts out to Cillian first, "Because I don't want to do!" As if that was the most obvious answer. After all, the last person who caused big trouble at the vineyard had to drink himself to death. Martello looks to Patrizio next and his shoulders sag a bit as he clears his throat. "It was an accident," he admits. "Jezzie and I were just out, trying to have a bit of fun." He casts a quick glance at Frescio, who doesn't seem to react at all. "And one thing led to another and ah.... er.... " his cheeks go a dark, flaming red color. "The lantern got knocked over, and then the oil spread, and ....." he averts his gaze, not looking anyone in the eyes. "ItAllHappenedSoFast!"

Eirene aahhs as the truth comes out.. "Well. There we go." She gives Frescio a faint grin. "Looks like this was a really dumb accident. I'm glad it wasn't anythinhg more malicious."

Grady's nod to Martello (and everyone else) is just a little too solemn and knowing; he's taking the situation too seriously to REALLY be taking it entirely seriously, but it's a subtle, easily missed distinction, at least as long as one doesn't catch the warm golden amusement in his hazel eyes. "I seem to recall unlucky old Billiam the toymaker, as the fire brigade were rolling in, saying something rather similar," he muses. "Oil lanterns can be terribly dangerous things, even when one does not find oneself surrounded by dry memoirs and dryer sherry. Ah. And clockworks and things. Windup monkeys. We'll have to talk to, ah. Jezzie, did you say? We'll have to talk to your friend as well. Perhaps over a cup of tea?"

Martello's words bring Patrizio's gaze back to Frescio, who's clearly looking disappointed and... "I would think that it's a relief to know that this was an accident, truthfully. We've all had youthful indiscretions. That it clearly got well out of hand is hardly a reason we see a heavy hand of punishment that doesn't fit the harm done - no lives've been lost, after all." Though he's certainly agreeing with what Grady's saying, before he offers his own two coppers. "Preferably without anyone who knows this Jezzie from speaking to any details, and perhaps with a false one or two sprinkled in to see if it changes the story."

Cillian hmms. "I remember when I was younger I once." he stops..." Nope bad one to tell." he looks to Patricio nodding in agreement. "Yes."

Medeia tries hard to hide a smile that comes as the details become known. Her head ducks, a hand lifting to adjust her scarf /just so/. She clears her throat and takes a step back. Murmuring, she notes, "The offer to assist in repair remains, Messere. I would speak to the archduchess on your behalf, if you promise to make good faith efforts." The lady is still not looking up to keep her amusement from showing, but her voice is soft and true.

"You can't!" Martello screeches the moment they interject and say they need to talk to Jezzie. "I'm really die then. You think her day will let me live once he founds out who was responsible for her hair getting burn clean off?" He looks like he's ready to bolt.

"Son," comes a sharp voice from Frescio. "Not only can they, but you're going with them to apologize. Then, you're going to speak to Lady Medeia here and accept her help on those reparations, which /you will fully pay/. Do you understand me boy?"

"You can't!" Martello screeches the moment they interject and say they need to talk to Jezzie. "I'm really die then. You think her day will let me live once he founds out who was responsible for her hair getting burn clean off?" He looks like he's ready to bolt.

"Son," comes a sharp voice from Frescio. "Not only can they, but you're going with them to apologize. Then, you're going to speak to Lady Medeia here and accept her help on those reparations, which /you will fully pay/. Do you understand me boy?"

For someone as high strung as he is, Grady takes Martello's sudden yelling a lot more calmly than might be expected. He lays a comforting (or possibly restraining) hand on the young man's shoulder. "I have two daughters, myself. I can't imagine her father being more unhappy about whatever happened to her hair than she is. My Zelde would have given your shins a sound kicking, I expect, in Jezzie's place. If it were me, I think I should rather be more afraid of her."

Eirene comments to Medeia, "My kids will be glad they've never done anything quite so catastrophic as burning down our livlihood." But she realizes this probably won't help the kid much with his self-esteem so she tries, "Your father is probably glad you didn't get hurt, kid. So take your punishment like a grown-up and do what you can to help rebuild."

Cillian gives the boy a low growl sound in his throat as he starts to yell and whine.

"I shan't speak to parenting, seeing as I don't do any, and treating with my cousins' children doesn't count." To his credit, there's not a twitch of a grin when Patrizio pronounces it so, but he nods at least in part to what's been said by others. "A learning experience, and one imagines that it's a sharp one. With harder labour to make up for the loss over the next several seasons." Those jade eyes glance to the father and son, before he muses, "And perhaps better watches set upon the vineyard to ensure that there aren't future... repetitions, yes?"

Medeia finally gets her expression under control and looks up. "I would expect the same of my own children were they in your shoes," She says to Martello. There's a look to Eirene and Grady, then she's just sort of shaking her head over it all, relieved it isn't a worse situation.

It is physically impossible for Martello's shoulders to sag even more when his father tells him he has to go apologize. With all of his fretting over Jezzie's father, he didn't even think about how Jezzie might feel and his face turns sheet white at Grady's revelation about who will be more upset. He mumbles apologies all around and mumbles to Frescio. "Yes sir." He looks like one miserable young man, about to face the walking death march of doom when it is clear he has no other choice. He gives Medeia a furtive glance, then looks to Frescio, and with a sigh he says. "I suppose we should get this over with now."

And that's what he does, with everyone around him to bear witness. Jezzie's father is unhappy. He expectedly warns Martello off from ever seeing his daughter again. Jezzie is distraught; her hair is singed all over, in misshapen monstrous way that would be all too amusing if it weren't such a serious affair. She informs him that she never wants to see him again. Frescio comes up with all sorts of ways to keep his son busy to keep him out of trouble and ensures that he goes to Medeia for the help that is promised, closing the case of the burned vineyards.

Grady's final words on the subject are for Frescio, given in a quiet tone during a moment the two of them find alone together before it comes time for him to depart with the other nobles: "Foolishness is the greatest luxury we can offer the young, yes? All of this is going to turn out alright, and he has an experience to motivate him to be so much more careful than he would have been, without it."

Cillian nods once this are done he falls back to being silent on their trip home.

Eirene says, "I sense someone will be mucking out stables for a long long time..."she gives a wry smile before watching the apologies commence. "Don't forget the part where you grovel."