|A Sickbed Interrogation|
|Summary:||Riordan comes to interrogate Iulia once more. And also see how she is doing, of course.|
|Related Logs:||A Wonderful Day For a Picnic and search and rescue logs.|
|Iulia's Sickroom — Tordane Tower|
|The room that Iulia is recovering in. It smells of a maester's medicines!|
|Sat Jun 02, 289|
Iulia would be found never alone. When ever she had awoken from slumber there was that servant girl, ever ready to attend to her needs. A very, very odd feeling for a servant girl to experience. While laid upon the bed, her bandaged feet exposed from beneath a blanket concealing her lower limbs she was occasionally drinking from wine. Something to dull the pain as well as dulling the taste of this paste plastered onto her chapped and dry lips.
It's evening by the time Riordan once more makes it to the room that Iulia has been kept in. Trailing behind him is his personal retainer, Stanley, who is garbed in the livery of the Naylands of Stonebridge, though he bears the Regent's personal badge, the harpy quartered, to distinguish him from the others of his kind here in the Tower. He knocks, of course, and waits to be let in by the servant before he enters, and looks to the other servant, the one he is here to see. "Mistress Iulia," he greets, quietly and wearily, though not without some degree of sympathy, before glancing to the girl who has been watching over the injured maid. "Leave us," he says, simply. It is clear that the Regent has not slept, judging by the days growth on his face, and the other indicators that proclaim the utter bone weariness that plagues him.
She was mid-drink once the regent had entered, an immediate reaction caused her to spit the contents in her mouth back into the cup. "Lord Regent." She sputtered though the older woman attending her gave the lord an appropriate greeting. The healing one was a touch inebriated. By his command, Iulia's caregiver quietly takes her leave after offering the young Dewhurst a careful touch on the shoulder to ease her nerves. Watching her elder's departure she now floats her gaze towards the very tired looking lord over the tower. "You look as well as I feel m'lord."
"I'm not sure if that is a compliment or an insult," Riordan observes, and though his mood and expression is hardly that of the normally light hearted and easy going man he normally is, the slightest of raises at the edges of his lips betrays the joking nature of his words. Even though, truly, his heart is not in it. "Are you better then before, at least?" he then asks, a hint of true concern making it through the tiredness, as he moves to take up the now unoccupied seat at Iulia's bedside. Stanley, meanwhile, at some vague signal from his lord, offers the Regent a bow, and also departs the room, leaving the two of them alone.
Let's just say she doesn't aim to run, stumble and walk barefoot for hours as a daily habit. Still her tongue was loosened by the drink and the girl realizes her mistake after it is said. "Forgive me, m'lord." She doesn't catch his upturned lips as small as it was. "A little." Both of her eyebrows wrinkle toward one another as she glanced to her bandaged feet and frowned through her cracked lips. "The maester is good, aye, I think. I am a poor judge with all the wine I am fed. I cannot complain the drink is good, very good. I.." She turns to her eyes to him a touch wide eyed. "Are you thirsty m'lord?"
"I was joking," Riordan explains, for Iulia's benefit, his words quiet. "I take no offense. I've not slept yet since Friday's morn, when I woke up in the Sevens. I am sure I look frightful." He works to make his smile more noticeable, in an effort to put the girl at ease. It's a fragile, forced thing, however, nowhere near his normal easy smile. Clearly, the events of the past day have had an effect on him, if a less bloody one then on poor Iulia. "I'd a hope you might have remembered something more from yesterday's events," he then prompts her, though he clearly holds little hope now, finding her medicated and in her cups. As for the inquiry as to his thirst, the Regent simply gives his head a shake.
Temporarily dismissed from her duties, Iulia couldn't help but fall into habits when in the company of the highborn. "Oh.." She starts, drawing both reddened hands onto her lap while attempting to think. "I think the ladies Jocelyn and Roselyn would be appreciative to know you care for them so deeply. I understand, how sleep is difficult. I awaken at all times, still seeing their faces. So terrified and frightened." But he asked what else she could recall from the encounter. "They must have been watching for a while for all the guards were taken out easily. Quickly. Uh.. four came upon us and the leader was…" He smelled bad. "Not smart, not well spoken as you. These are peasants, men seeking vengeance for their loss of loved ones and livelihoods."
"They are family," Riordan says, simply, by way of explaining the level of care for Roslyn and Jocelyn. And the ladies in question, at least, would probably understand. Meanwhile, her memory of how frightened the ladies looked makes his jaw tense, his shoulders bow a bit. It's nothing he hasn't heard or thought before, but the reminder clearly isn't a welcome one, even if he makes no complaint of it. "I see," he says, then, as Iulia goes on to describe the events once more. "Anything else? Any distinguishing marks on any of the men? Anything that makes one or more stand out in your mind?" he questions, leaning forward intently despite himself.
There's a few wrinkles across her brow while recalling events and lesser so from a panicked state. Iulia fingers absently fingered the fabric across her lap, "The man who approached us had a jagged patch of embroidery pinned to his breast." Well, greeted them at first. "He had a mustache." Then as she recalled suddenly her eyes widened, "Rolf! He called one Rolf."
"Anything specific about the embroidery, that you recall?" Riordan asks, pressing still further. The name, though, draws a look of satisfaction, and the flare of something almost akin to hope as he nods his head. "Good, good, Mistress Iulia. Thank you." He pauses, considering the woman a moment longer, before prompting further, "Anything else?"
"Yeah, the man who was I suppose the leader was wearing it. I may be able to replicate it but I do not know what it would mean." A clue perhaps. "They all had horses, just the four of them that we saw but we had more guards so could there have been more elsewhere? I—I do not know." She frowns through her attempt to remember. "I'm sorry m'lord. It all happened so fast. They made a mention of feeding their families."
As Iulia describes the embroidery, Riordan merely shakes his head. "I doubt it means much beyond that it is meant to signify the leader's rank. Still, I'll see if anyone recognizes the description of this man, and this Rolf, too," Riordan says. The descriptions of each of the men, any and everything that can be remembered by her, will be taken down by a servant later. For now, the Regent seems satisfied. "You've no need to apologize, Mistress Iulia," the Nayland knight says, moving to cover her hand with his own, likely without considering what he is doing. Its an instinctive action, prompted by a woman in distress, while thinking of his own kin who are likewise in distress. "You have been through much. Do not fret further. You have been a great help. Without you, we would not know where to guide our searches, nor what to look for. You have helped your new mistress, and my sister, and all the rest. Take comfort in that."
Iulia wouldn't appear stirred by the comforting gesture, anything to cast doubt on the guilty thoughts she had for not being there and by her lady's side. "I wish I had more to give." But the men were careful, stupid, but careful. "But thank you m'lord. I just wish Lady Jocelyn, and the others, would return. Safely. I could never forgive myself otherwise."
Withdrawing his hand, Riordan simply nods. "They will be returned, and soon, safe and sound. You just focus on getting well. Take your rest, Mistress Iulia," he says. And, with that, the Regent moves to rise, and head for the door.
She nods, turning her frame slightly to retrieve the wine cup that will certainly assist her into some deep slumber. "The Seven watch over you m'lord." Iulia does resettle in her seat, offering at last. "I wish you some decent rest, if only to be in the best state to beat those bandit bastards into the hands of the Stranger."