|All Assignments Now Given|
|Summary:||Dafydd gets with Ser Tylur and makes his assignments.|
|Date:||26 December 2011|
|Town Square - Tall Oaks|
|The town is nothing impressive to the eye or built up like many of those to the south, but the square is edged by placed rocks and the central area is a large pavilion for what looks like announcements. The scent of smithies and tanning fills the area and more often than not a line of freshly drying yew bows can be seen. Smalls houses and a few shops are set up, but most are for basic crafts and convenience rather than for things of leisure or finery. Everyrhing is overshadowed by the tall pines and hardwoods that loom as ever present guardians overhead. Light streams down through and only Oaks Hall stands in a clearing large enough to allow enough sunlight through.|
|26 December 288|
Tylur emerges from the smithie carrying an old piece of misshapen baffling. His hands are dark with soot, and there are a few smudges on his face as well. He looks tired, and is heading to the mittens to get rid of the old baffling from the forge that he just finished replacing.
There is a pile of swords, too, that await the swordsmith, dropped there last night by the hawks' mistress and an apprentice. Mustn't forget those either. It's time to check on the work; time is, after all, of the essence. Dafydd is outside, ready to go in as the knight emerges.. and he pauses.. "Ser Tylur.. good."
Tylur lifts his brow, and clears his throat, "Ahem… Um… Captain." He straightens a bit, which looks perhaps funny given how dirty he is. "My Lord. What um… How can I be of service, Captain?"
In defense of the poor young knight, the Captain isn't looking a whole lot cleaner. Dafydd has a few days worth of growth, and he's looking a little rough around the edges as well. He's got those 'tired' lines around his eyes, and his voice has something of a weariness, even as he is all curt business. "There are swords for you to look at. If you can't clean them and grind them down for an edge, smelt them and make new ones." He pauses, then. "When that is done, I will need you to take the bow and get some practice in— and while you are pulling your arrows from the butts, you need to look over a map that I will give you to study. I will expect that it's memorized before tomorrow evening. That map is of Tall Oaks, with areas marked out for individual hunters and rangers.. with tree-stands to offer added visibility. On there, as well, are fall back positions for each of those areas in case of.. difficulty."
Tylur straightens even more, if that's possible, though it only really just makes him look younger than he already is. He nods, more serious, "Of course, Captain. I um… I can fire a bow, my Lord. I'm not as skilled as with my sword, but some archery was part of my squireship." He tilts his hand a bit, "This map. Are we expecting trouble?"
"I want you better with a bow, Ser." It's a statement, and one that says that all he expects there is a 'yes sir'. "I am not as skilled with a bow as my sword, and so that means more practice is required." And that's all he'll say on the matter. "As far as trouble— are we expecting trouble? No.. however, with our foray out into the world at large, there could be. I don't know when, why or how.. from what direction." Dafydd puts a hand up, "But before you tell me that I'm being paranoid, or rather, before you start thinking I am paranoid, we offered trade with the Iron Isles and it has been some time since we've sent the offer— and have heard no response. That concerns me. That, and the behavior of the Lady Kathryna. She is in some distress, though she won't divulge to me as to why. She and I have had conversations, and I've left them unsettled." Inclining his head, "And so, if I am wrong, then we are left better organized and better planned. If I am correct.. we are better organized."
Tylur nods, "As you wish," to the instructions about archery. "I'll be ready with the map. And if things with the Isles go afoul, we'll be ready for them, as well."
Dafydd nods his pleasure, such as it is. "Perfect. If there are any questions, you may also speak with Mistress Kells. She is working on training the hawks to fly for us as a message system. Nothing more than flying— not carrying messages as the ravens do." He looks to depart, but pauses in his step and twists around, "There is not to be a word mentioned of any of this around Lady Banefort. Am I clear? If you have need to speak with my Lord brother, then do so in her absence."
Tylur furrows his brow for an instant before nodding once more, "Of course." He smiles just a little, "Thank you, My Lord."
"Good." Dafydd makes to leave again, "I bid you good evening, then.. and I know that it is much I ask, but it is nothing that I, too, am not doing." Now, the Captain departs, on his way towards the armoury once again. Tylur isn't the only one going to be putting in long hours…