|Summary:||Lord Patrek Mallister summons Ser Solomon Wake, and tells him his plan for the Cape|
|Related Logs:||All of the Ironborn rebellion logs.|
|The Throne Room|
|15th April 289 A.L|
Yesterday saw the men of the Riverlands sail to Seagard and many of them continue on their way down the rivers or along land to reach the homes that eagerly await them. For others, Seagard itself was home, and for some, like Lord Patrek, home was never left at all. But, with the men returned, it is time to look beyond war and see to recovery with new focus. And, perhaps with this in mind, Solomon Wake, fresh from Pyke (well, as fresh as the fellow gets, one might supposed) has been summoned into the throne room where the fourteen-year-old lord waits, in mourning black, to receive him.
When one is summoned, one does not merely remain in an ale house all day. No-one finishes their drink, and tries to get cleaned up before showing up to said summoning. And so the day finds Solomon Wake, a little ruddy in his cheeks, but otherwise, clean. He is dressed in clean leather breeches, a fine doublet and coat. His mustache has been groomed and stubble shaved away, so all and all the knight is presentable.
With spurs on his feet and sword at his hip, Ser Sol does pause long enough to be announced, while a quick smooth of hair is given, before he strides into the hall. Like the Lord, he too is in black, save his only splash of colour is a purple short cape which hangs off one shoulder. A sweeping bow is placed before the young Lord Mallister, before the Captain rises from the theatrics. "My Liege lord, and life owner." Solomon greets in his usual salt rough voice. "Honor to you, and your Kin." traditions and all.
Patrek stands as Solomon arrives, though even so, the privateer has the advantage of height. "Ser Wake," the boy greets and a respectful nod, "thank you for your prompt arrival. I hear by all accounts that you comported yourself bravely on the islands, as is to be expected of a man who nobly sacrificed his ship to protect his home. You are to be commended."
The privateer does smile as he regard the scion of Jason Mallister, with those pale blue eyes of his. "Thank you, my lord. I only hope to haven given those piss poor bastards as good as they gave me." Solomon says with a grin. His hand leaves the post of resting on the pommel of his sword to tweak his mustache one, a grin threatening forth. " My only reward, My lord, is that I get to serve so fair a house and such a good a Lord." And his hand is back down in an easy lean. "You have the looks of your father in you. No doubt you shall carry on his legacy greatly." Despite how nice these might sound to Solomon's ear-the could be perhaps a bit off in delivery, even if the sentiment is honest.
The young Lord smiles politely for the sentiment. Perhaps he's become acclimated to the words and others like them since his father died. Clasping his hands behind his back, he approaches Ser Wake a few steps closer, though not so close that he's required to cran his head back to see the other man's face. "Thank you, ser, but I feel it should be a waste to keep a man so skilled at sea on land for too long, and in truth, with the war over and the Iron Islands laid low, it shall not be long before raiding parties strike again, as they have before. We are especially vulnerable, in our own state of recovery. Seagard shall manage, but I have particular concern for Terrick's Roost and the coast along their shores."
Solomon does lower his head to look at the young Lord, so as it would appear that he is not looking down on Patrek, or from over his nose and wonderful mustache. And as the Lord comes within proximity, the knight steps kindly to the side, with a shift of weight, to allow the younger man the look of leading, if they were to walk around the room. "You do me a lot of kindness, my lord.." Ser Wake responds, before his mouth is given a twitch. A side-nod of his head is given back. "Indeed, my Lord, but the Ironborn's hunger should not be the only one you worry about. Men will take t' ships to seize food shipments, and merchant ships in hopes of bettering their life-or for survival in these lean times." kissing his teeth, Solomon does bring a hand up to pick at his teeth and flick something away. There's a curt nod, followed by. "Indeed, I know their waters well. Not much for costal defense now, I would argue that the Terricks and the land of the dead Camdens will be rather ripe lookin' to the leaner wolves out there." A sniff. "If I were my lord, I would make sure you had a ship or two who could patrol the coast with ease. A fine crew for fighting. Big enough to bring either the captured vessels back here to Seagard, or to the Roost for re outfitting.." Of course, he would talk about building a private Navy up, but now is probably not the best time.
"If I may be bold." The knight starts. "Would you Lord, like an experienced Seaman on this particular mission? I know a few good Captains that still hold ships—Had I one, My liege, I would break them myself."
"In point of fact, Ser Wake, you do have one," the young Lord of Seagard replies. His own manners are too polished to allow for the cleaning of teeth with fingernails or the showing of dismay at men who do clean their teeth with fingernails, though his pale gaze watches the action with careful impassivity. "As part of our war spoils, the king has gifted Seagard with a dozen longships. I should like to send three to the Roost to maintain patrols along their shores, and I should like to commission a fourth to you, so that you and your crew may resume your former duties to the Mallisters along the coasts of the Roost and beyond. Those villains you find who would seek profit from the Roost's losses, those ships or goods you attain in combat, you shall bring to the Roost, awarding the Lord's share to them. Will you accept this charge and duty, ser?"
There is a pause given from Solomon as he looks back towards Patrek, with one eye cocking, or narrowing as it were. " I do?" he repeats, before he falls silent, his fingers wiped along the front of his doublet, before he does bring it back up to toy with his fine mustache. Apparently he has some scruples about what can touch his mustache and what cannot. Likcing his lips once, the captain does take time to clear his throat, before a toothy grin is passed along. Even with one gleaming tooth of some precious metal, showing. "My good Lord Patrek Mallister. This knight would be ever humble- and would take such a commission from you." And there he pauses for a moment, as if trying to figure out how best to say: "Thank you, my lord."
Coughing the knight bows again once more. "I'll see what of me old crew remains, an I'll press in some newbodies from them around the coast. I want good men, an men who know the Cape." So no green guts will be allowed to be spilled on his deck. Well-not many. "A new Feathered Dog is it? An a Ironborn ship too. It'll be a fine fleet you have operating out of there, my Lord."
"Ironborn ships are, unfortunately, much of all the ships we have at the moment," Patrek agrees, "but they are easier to maintain and people than a war galley. I have hopes the Terricks may be able to crew them, and I will send some navy men along with them to train the rest." For Solomon's broad smile, Patrek cannot help but return it. "Good, ser." A pause and the smile grows as he corrects, "Captain. Form your crew with haste, I am eager you should begin."
"I will take a longship, any day o' the week. She may not have the artillery, but she can board an ram, like a whore who knows her business, Lord Pat." And like that there's an ease of familiarity with the Captain, as Solomon has now dropped all formality of court. "Will my new ship be in port, or should I expect her at the Roost, an hurry t' meet her? If so, my boys an yer sailors can catch a skiff out t' Stonebridge an be t' the Roost afore tomorrow." Alright-so his time might be off, but he does get good results. And there does the smile hold and a laugh wrack out of the Sea Captain. "If my lord wishes, We can send for you when th' Sevening of the ships comes t' past, if you like t' be there?"
Blink. It's possible Patrek is not all that used to whores as analogies, but he musters his cool and moves on. "The longships were brought to Seagard's port, you can sail her to the Roost when she is crewed. When you plan to name them, do write. I am not sure I can get away, but I should like to know and hear how things are getting on, there. I expect weekly reports as to the activities on the waters, as well."
There is a nod given from Solomon, before he is grinning. "Well then I'll see her provisioned and make out on the morrow." The knight answers before he is reaching out to offer his Lordship a hearty pat on the back. It'll be once and hard, but then the knight is turning to bow. "Of course my good lord. I am yer man, ever and true. When at the Roost's port we'll name her proper, an have a pennant raised on her mast." And there Solomon holds not sure if he has been dismissed or if he is indeed missing something. "I'll be sure to tuck in Couriers as I come in t' port."
"Captain," Patrek chastises for that very familiar pat on his back, though it's around a smile that can't quite be helped. The bow is returned with a nod before the boyr ealizes he must clarify, "On the morrow, then. Good. You are dismissed, Captain Wake. See to your ship."
Solomon offers a grin right there to the young Lord, before he is nodding. "Thank you my Lord. For th' Cape an For Mallister." he states once before there's a turn on his spurred heels which set his short cape a flutter. If he had a hat, it would be waved. As it is, he is off.