|A Bump in the Market|
|Related Logs:||Liberation of Seagard in general|
|Market Place, Seagard|
|The sight of the heaviest fighting, and lengthiest Ironborn occupation, the streets are still littered with broken barricades and bloodstains. Flies have begun to swarm, making a kerchief over the face a necessity for travelling between the street of the Ropemakers, and the street of the clothmakers.|
|Thu 15 Mar, 289|
The siege is broken, the Lord of the Mallisters sent to his Gods, and the Mallisters and Seagard both grieving and preparing for the assault on the Iron Isles. The Market is a busy place of rebuilding, salvaging, and preparation…in short rather chaotic. Into this mix are blended troops and nobles from other Houses far away. It is not long now before the soldiers set sail to bring destruction to the Ironborn Houses.
With a shake of her hair, in a spirit of moving forward and good cheer, Muirenn has forgone the black for one of her favorite gowns. A black token knotted about her upper arm is a stark reminder against the white and silver that she is yet in mourning. Accompanied by a pair of guards, her maid, and her brother, she pauses frequently to speak with those smallfolk she knows trying to do what she may to encourage even if it is just listening to their plights. It is during one of these moments, a five minute discourse about the difficulty of preparing mortar to patch a wall, that redheaded teenager is more or less stranded in the market by her generous and polite nature.
Moving along with his sister, Martyn studies the people they encounter rather carefully every now and again, but also stops to talk with people. Nodding and smiling as he talks to people, he seems to be helping with the 'making people feel better' work.
With the planning for the invasion of the Iron Isles well underway, the Flint troops have been spending several hours a day drilling down by the waterfront in preparation for any possible beach assaults. It is from there that direction that Einar enters the market place. He's on his way back to the camp outside the town, but has enough time to make the slight detour and explore the city a little. And, possibly, more importantly, dry off a little. Seems like it was his turn to be with the 'attacking' troops, that or he just got dunked. He's wearing his warm (and more importantly) dry cloak to evade catching a chill and his his crossbow slung across his back. The only bolts in evidence though are training blunts. Moving slowly through the market area itself he's taking the time to look around and try and get a feel for the place and not judge it simply by the destruction the reavers have left in their wake.
Another of the masses being herded like cattle one way or the other through the sluice that is the markets, would be a man clad in the tell tale green and black of his particular coat of arms. Pausing long enough in the movement- the man bends down to stoop up, and pick a rather large bit of rock. Probably from one of the burnt out open stores. Still it's tossed back into the husk before, he is moving a little further as he goes through the motions of following the tide of humanity
"Even after a bloody invasion the market's traffic is as long as a service at the sept. Bloody fucking hell." Ser Quellyan mutters through his teeth as he dodges around some smallfolk. " I only pray it clears out by the time we try to get on the boats, else we'll be fucking our own asses onto those galleys.." And he turns to look for whom he was talking to only to frown. "And I lose Squire Fat..Brilliant.."
Finally extricating herself from the conversation, Muirenn ponders a moment turning and fleeing but manages to turn and instead make a ladylike rush, murmuring "Brother, I didn't ever think to learn such a large amount about mortar ever before." With a soft oof, she rushes head long into Einar. With a gasp, "Oh my heavens! I am so very…oh my apologies!" Her cheeks flush a deep shade of scarlet at the mortification of actually having run into a stranger.
"Interesting things you learn at times like this, dear sister," Martyn remarks, with a bit of a grin. About to say something more, he blinks a bit at the collision. "Are you alright?" Offered both to Muirenn and to Einar now, looking between the two, a bit carefully.
Einar had spotted the Mallister party, it's hard not to at that range after all, but he he hadn't anticipated Muirenn's sudden change in direction. Taking an instinctive step back his cheeks do not turn the same colour, but there is a similar look of mortification on his features. "My Lady," he offers, quickly, "my most sincere apologies, I must not have been paying attention, are you hurt?" He gives her a quick visual check over, not expecting to see anything, but still.
However, sometimes the market does indeed pay off, for visiting. Whether finding some need or bauble the market has everything you could possibly need. And right now the market is providing Quellyan with some much more valuable than drink- or his fat little squire. Instead it is giving him entertainment. Right now it is in the form of nobles being mortified. Still the Charlton knight is not chortling out loud-no his laughter is a quiet chuckle followed by an amused smirk. As the contingent Mallister and party of one Einar, figure out there wounds beyond social- Quellyan takes the time to navigate himself closer for a better view.
"Oh no, the fault is my own." Muirenn gasps. She nods abruptly to the questioning "I am fine." she murmur's blushing and moves back towards her brother, "Please forgive me, I was not paying attention at all." Her gaze is lowered as she finally looks up and gives Einar a shy smile, "I should pay more attention."
Looking between his sister and Einar for a few more moments, as if making sure they're both fine, Martyn looks around for a few more moments before he looks back to his sister. "You okay?" he offers, a bit quietly.
Einar is disinclined to allow Muirenn, a Lady, to accept fault, but his alternative is to, however politely, imply that she's wrong. Decisions, decisions. It's only a moment or so though before he answers with a respectful nod. "A Lady should not have to be constantly on the look out in her own market place, the fault is mine." He glances then to Martyn, and offers an apologetic look. Quellyan is not yet even spotted.
The Charlton knight manages to remain on the periphery, all the while taking in details. Such as Einar's state and the fact that Muirenn has moved from formal mourning to the simple armband. Eyebrows tick up at that before he is looking towards Martyn. The amused smirk remains on his face as eyes slide back towards Einar as the little drama plays itself out. One hand moves up to idly rub at his jaw before he is muttering to himself. "I never knew the Northmen had such manners. I always imagined them with drinking horns and covered in furs." A slight pause in his mumbling before he is appraising the Flint man entirely different than he did the Mallister woman. "Though, this is close.."
A subtle nod is given to Martyn and the teenage girl murmurs "Yes brother, I will live. It is my pride that is injured, not my physical self." Muirenn gives a small smile and returns her gaze to Einar. A wide smile is given to Einar, dimple appearing in her cheek. Her green-grey eyes twinkle, "A politic answers that allows all to save their dignity. I thank you for that." Taking a step forward she says graciously, "I am Lady Muirenn Mallister. Might I be forward enough to inquire as to the name of the person who is so diplomatic?"
While the gaggle of Nobles gather together to speak, a lone Knight baring the colors of House Mallister begins to approach from the north at an almost leisure pace. Hands have been slipped behind Trystan's back and clasped together and although his forgone his armor on this particular day, he is wearing a simple tunic and trousers ensemble beneath the livery of Mallister. Glacial eyes survey the street as he moves further into the market and when they settle upon the Nobles as he begins to draw closer, he's offering a bow of his head in respect to them.
Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that, before he looks to Einar again, studying the man a bit carefully for a few moments, before he looks around again. Quellyan is noted at the moment, but then he looks to Trystan, offering a nod in the man's direction. Then back to Muirenn and Einar now.
Einar had intended his statement to mean that he accepted full responsibility, but as the Mallisters seem to be taking it as some stroke of mutual dignity restoration he doesn't press the point, figuring it to be counterproductive. "Lady Mallister," he starts, "I am Lord EInar Flint, down in your city with the levees from the North." Trystan's arrival is greeting with a brief nod, although he's glad that things seem to be going well as the number of Mallisters increases, if things had turned ill he'd have been feeling somewhat surrounded by now.
Eyes catch the look from Martyn and the other man is given a bit of a nod-but still the other knight is polite enough not to overtly voice his thoughts. Just mumble jumble them into his hand. Still Quellyan is being nothing more than a voyeur of this particular debacle. Meeting. What have you. And as another comes in there's a look over to Trystan- "Ah another Mallister." Quell announces-though given he is the only audience in this particular drama it doesn't really concern anyone else. Still the other night is looked over and nodded to all the same. How is that for politeness?
"Oh! You are kin to Lord Anders Flint then?" Muirenn's face lights up, "Please give him my kind regards. I enjoyed getting to know he and his wife at The Roost some days back." Looking more pleased she glances over her shoulder as Trystan appears. "Ser Connors! I hope you are well?" About to say more she gives a soft laugh as Quellyan approaches and makes his pronouncement, replying drily "Of course, it is Seagard my Lord Charlton. I fully expect you to be inundated with those of my House. Should you be surprised it would make me question your sanity."
Drawing closer and catching the nods from the others, Trystan gives a polite incline to each in kind, though Martyn is warranted a, "Lord Mallister," while Muirenn gets, "I am, Lady Mallister. And you?" Footsteps begin to slow and once he's a few paces away from the group, he pauses his movements entirely, standing outside the ring of the nobles, but close enough to speak when spoken to.
Martyn nods a little bit. "A pleasure, Lord Flint," is offered to Einar, before he looks over at Quellyan again. Studying the man a bit more carefully now.
Einar smiles at the question from Muirenn, as well as the dropping of the unfortunate incident. "Yes my Lady, he answers politely, "I am both his squire and cousin and I will gladly pass on your regards just as soon as I return to camp." With the tension level now noticeably lower he takes a moment to glance round and Quellyan is both spotted and recognised. "Lord Charlton," he greets with a nod, then Martyn is greeted properly, "Lord Mallister."
There's a look given back towards Muirenn as now he is called out. And like that his time as an idle watcher is done for. A faux sigh before he is coming further in to join the conversation. "Oh. Lady Muirenn." he begins, "I am sure my sanity is in tact, despite what horrors I have seen." his own dry reply, before his smirk quirks up. "It is a game I play when I visit your lovely city. How many Mallisters do I spy- thankfully it is an easy game lest I fear I would not be good at it." A chuckle before he is nodding his head. "However, may I say it is good to see you." a look given to Einar before he offers the Northman a bow of his head as well. "Lord Einar. "
Despite the study he is given from Martyn, Quell keeps on grinning. Though he does look down almost self consciously and pick at some invisible lint in order to flick it away. A brow raised towards Martyn. 'Better, Ser?"