|Summary:||Rygar meets with Wayland to discuss the current animosity towards House Nayland, and about his oath.|
|Related Logs:||Sworn Thrice|
|The entrance to the tower opens into a larger common room for receiving guests. Effort has been made to bring warmth and light to the interior, as well. Rugs have been hung from the stone walls as well as placed on the floor to bring at a welcoming ambiance. There is a large table with several chairs off to the left of the door, a cooking hearth against the back wall, and a wooden staircase that leads up. An antechamber behind the stairs is where the servants live and bed down.|
|August 2nd, 288|
Rygar sits at the table in the common room, several hours after the Household had completed it's dinner. The Nayland knight is eating late, cutting off a cold haunch of the venison, with a heel of bread and a tankard of beer. He sits with his back to the curved tower wall, facing the larger hall.
The sound of steps is what at first will give away that someone is approaching, because of the Tower being so quiet at this time. The man who approaches is Wayland Frey, still wearing the same that he was wearing when Rygar saw him earlier today. He finally steps into the hall and walks straight towards Rygar, not saying a word; after all, the other man knows why he is here now.
Rygar looks up as the Frey knight steps inside, chewing twice and swallowing his mouthful before greeting, "Ser Wayland, good of you to join me. Sit if you wish," he voices curtly, taking a swallow of the tankard to wash down the prior mouthful.
Wayland Frey offers a curt nod to Rygar and then says "Ser Rygar" he looks at an empty chair and then nods again "I shall take a seat then" With that said, the man pulls the chair and sits, shifting a little to make himself comfortable. He takes a quick look at what's on the table and the arches both eyebrows when he looks up and scans. "You wanted to see me in private" offers the man now, looking back at Rygar.
"I do, Ser," Rygar answers, cutting off the next morsel of cold venison from the pewter platter before him. "If you have not eaten yet," he motions from Wayland to help himself, but throughout, the lean knight's tone of voice is cold and detached. "You have been attached to the Tordane Household for some years, Ser. I wish to know what you believe the cause of the lingering animosity toward my family."
When Rygar offers some food, Wayland nods and extends his hand to take just a piece of bread. Holding it with one hand, he pulls a smaller piece with his other and chews a couple times before answering "I've been with the Tordane Household since I was seven years of age." He nods to this and then considers his question for a moment "Lord Tordane was a very respected man and, of course, the people of Stonebridge was already connected to the idea of Tordane and Terrick joining forces by marriage." He pours himself some ale and takes a small sip before adding "And we know that Terrick and Nayland has never seen eye to eye…" He takes a deep breath and studies the man "It is not easy for people to accept such an abrupt change, wouldn't you agree?"
"It is not easy for highborn to accept such change, perhaps," Rygar returns plainly, taking the bite of venison and swallowing it before continuing, "It has been my observation, Ser, that smallfolk care for little other than the degree to which they are taxed, and bickering over the count of sheep, grain, or fish, depending on the peasant. Peasants need good reason to care one way or another what name the Lord they kneel to bears." A drink of the tankard. "What fault have you seen in the Nayland name in your many years in this Tower, Ser?"
Igara has had a little stool with a pillowed top set for her nearby the hearth, there to have good light while she finishes some exquisite embroidery work, a slipper sitting in her lap as it blossoms with orange and yellow flowers on a field of Tordane (and Nayland) green. Her head bowed, she moves with a peaceful patience, not rushing the work, but with a domestic industry that keeps her from seeming at leisure about it, the work moving along at a good pace for such detailed needlework.
"That is because smallfolk don't care about the power game that the highborn play, they care about their families, their houses…" he nods and adds "And of course, as you've put it…they care about the taxes placed upon them." He observes the other man and says "I think that good reason you speak of, is the fact that the smallfolk also loved Lord Tordane…and, I think they just adopted his stance in things" A nod is taken and another piece of bread is eaten. "Ser Rygar, you must remember that I am a Frey…and if I recall correctly, I know both of our houses are connected. Now, of course, I'm not the…" he lifts his hand as if signaling something above him "…high level Frey, if you will…but still" He licks his lips and "As for fault…" he leans back in his seat and considers, rubbing his fingers on his chin "Faults are hard things to measure, specially when fault means different to each person but, if I am to point something…I think the Aggressive style of expansion is what brings a, perhaps negative light?"
"Aggressive," Rygar echoes with detached interest. "Ser Wayland, my family have sttod as loyal bannermen to the Freys for over a century. Where is the aggression we have ever shown Stonebridge? You will pardon my blunt sopeech, I am sure, but tell me: what is the cause of your animosity? Why do you look to the eyes of Lady Isolde and look down to the dirt at the mention of your Lord Ryker? Where is the wrong Nayland has done Stonebridge?"
Igara turns the slipper over in her lap, then over again, giving it a look over for balance and spread of patterning before she continues.
Now, Wayland does show a faint smile "Ah, I thought…yes, after it happened, I thought you would have comments on that." He takes a deep breath and leans forward just a little bit "I don't hold any animosity towards your Household, Ser Rygar. I look in the eyes of Lady Isolde just as I looked into her eyes all the other times I sworn to her. And I wasn't looking into the dirt, when I answered about Lord Ryker, I was keeping my head bowed." He nods to this and says "My Lady's words, I sworn to them, on both accounts…" he leans back again and just shakes his head "I see no animosity in my actions, Ser Rygar. I'm an just a sworn Knight, like I have been for years" He clears his throat and offers "As for, where is the wrong Nayland has done to Stonebridge? Well, I don't know Ser Rygar, I believe you are asking the wrong person. I am a Knight that swore to protect Lady Isolde, once Tordane, now Nayland"
"Very well, Ser Wayland," Rygar returns after a silent moment of musing. "I believe I understand." Another portion of the bread cut off and consumed. "Defending Lady Isolde's interests are now within both of our oaths, Ser. Unless you have any questions, I require nothing further of your time." The thin knight's manner remains chill throughout the offered words.
Wayland nods to Rygar's words and then stands up "It is all I can offer, I do apologize if it's not enough to clarify the animosity you mention when it comes to the people of Tordane." He takes a step back and adds "Just one. Do you know when Lord Ryker would request my presence in order to swear to House Nayland? I know both the Lord and the Lady must have their hands quite busy with all the Tordane sworns and if I'm to interpret my lady's words properly, at some point, Lord Ryker might request me"
"Lord Ryker will likely converse an assembly of the Sworn on the morrow, so as to avoid keeping the House's retainers from their duties. For now, I bid you a good night, Ser." Such is Rygar's answer to the once Tordane knight.
Wayland moves his right fist right below his left shoulder, over his chest and bows to the other Knight "Ser Rygar, I bid you a good night as well." He takes a step back and turns around, starting the walk towards the big doors of the hall. Footsteps echo for a little longer after his image disappears, and then there's nothing.
Rygar nods sharply once to the departing Frey knight, sitting back in his chosen chair, and fixing his cold blue stare on the fire lit in the hearth for several moments. Without looking aside, he raises his voice to note, "Lady Frey. Would you join me." Phrased as a question, but not spoken as one.
It's the Lady Isolde's birthday in the morning, and Igara has had so little time apart from her Lady Cousin that the birthday present she's making still has a few hours' work to it. She doesn't react, in particular, to the chattering of the men at the table, but when her name is called her head shoots upward from her work. She looks to where one of the sworn is standing by, first, as to make sure the pair of them are not alone, and then deposits her work in her little ribbon-basket and stands. "Yes, My Lord," she replies obediently, turning to walk to the table with a measured, unhurried pace, there to lower herself into a deep courtsey at Rygar's side.
Rygar, deep in thought though he is, retains the courtesy of rising to his feet when the lady approaches and seats himself again once Igara has done so. "As Her Ladyship's companion, as well as Ser Wayland's kin, I am sure you have had better opportunity than I to form a picture of that gentleman. What is your opinion of such a Sworn sword with so… singular a loyalty to Lady, rather than House?"
Igara rises from the deep courtsey after a good pause settled therein, and sits, slipping into a chair without so much as pulling it from the table, one hand keeping her skirts all in order the meantime. "I am not sure what you mean, Lord Ser," she replies in a series of bright, girlish monosyllables, like the chittering of a bird. "My kin and yours have long now been true boon companions to one another," she notes cheerily, not going so far as to point out which the vassals and which the lieges, but painting it in the light of a mutual affection, as a young girl might easily do. "If Ser Wayland is the more devoted to Lady Isolde as she is of Frey blood and his cousin by birth, do not so think the chain of friendship between Frey and Nayland to be tarnished. I, too, am much devoted to my beloved cous. But I grew up with many a Nayland in the household, and am fond of all of them, as well."
"I think it not odd that the gentleman is so devoted to his Lady. Knights often are to beautiful women beyond their station, I am told," Rygar answers her cheer with composed gravity. "Perhaps Ser Wayland's ..singular devotion to Lady Isolde shall be beneficial, though such looks less to my eye as bonds of kinship through your great House, than due to personal affection." His cold blue eye regards the prim little Frey girl for a long moment. "It is good that Her Ladyship will benefit from your good council in days ahead, as I would that she should be wary of such affections."
Igara seems confused about the nature of the allegations being thrown against her cousins, both. Confused enough to peep upward toward Rygar and see if there is any hint of it in his expression. There isn't, of course. "A— Affections, my Lord? Surely you do not call my cousin's virtue into question so shortly after she is wed? She and Ser Wayland are bound by blood, and if they have been walking in private with one another, certainly one may do so with a gentleman of one's relation."
"Your good cousin's virtue since her wedding is in no doubt, Lady," Rygar responds with cool composure draining the warmth from his words. "I simply point out that in light of recent baseless slanders directed against Her Ladyship, it would be wise if- though he be kinsman- the Lady Isolde were to have escort in the good knight's company, so as best to safeguard both their reputations. I am sure you would wish slanders to befall neither of your kin, just as I would wish to see their names protected."
"If it be your wish, My Lord, I will go with them, myself, when they go walking," Igara answers. "I have had only a very little time with the Lord my Cousin, and I'm certain that the three of us will go along pleasantly together," she adds, kicking her legs slowly to and fro where they hang from the chair, as though paddling in a pool of water. "Who has been slandering my dear Lady cousin, my Lord?"
"I would not pollute the ears of so delicate a gentlewoman as yourself with such heresay, Lady," Rygar returns, his voice gaining a slight edge despite the gracious phrasing, as Igara inquires after the 'slanders'. "It ill befits a noble tongue to dwell upon such subjects," he adds, in dictating a change of topic.
Igara did not ask after the slanders, only the slanderer. But she won't pick nits nor argue with a noble Lord. "I thank you, my Lord," she replies, for his sparing of her ears. And as he changes the subject, she brightens. "May I be excused from table, My Lord? I would go to the hearth and bring back here my needlework. You may tell me what you think of it."
"You may," Rygar assents with a nod to the request. Once again, the nobleman will rise as she departs, before retaking his seat as Igara steps away and returning to his late dinner.
Igara stands, and courtseys her gratitude to the Lord before withdrawing a few steps still facing him, finally turning and going to fetch up her little ribbon-basket with the slippers nestled inside, returning to the side of Lord Rygar's chair. "These are for my dear cous on her birthday tomorrow. I hope to have them finished to-night, that I may wake before the dawn and play at the birthday fairy, and leave them for her for when she awakes. How fun a game that is, isn't it, my Lord?"
"Is it," Rygar returns evenly at Igara's cheerful 'how fun a game, isn't it' query. "Her Ladyship shall no doubt take great amusement in both the gift and the giving," the stern knight notes upon inspecting the embroidery on the slippers, before taking a bite of the diminishing bread. "Tell me, lady: what manner of entertainments does Her Ladyship favor?" Rygar's eye goes from slippers to slipper-maker, with the question.
"Oh, quiet ones, for the main," Iggie answers readily. "She enjoys a walk in the gardens and some quiet music for afternoon repose. She is such a tender heart that lays of love are wont to touch her spirit." Her eyes light up, "Oh, do you plan on giving her a gala for her birthday?" she lowers her voice into an earnest whisper. "There should be flowers, and dancing, I think."
"Any gift she is given will be sweeter for coming from her husband," Rygar answers with the frosty detatchment that so endears him to no one. "Tell me: would those slippers be fair to dance in, lady?" Hand set again to knife, another sliver of the venison is cut free with a swift stroke.
Igara gives a bright laugh which she stifles down, lest it seem unseemly to jest so at a gentleman. "No my Lord. These are bedroom-slippers. I shouldn't think one would go dancing in her bedroom slippers."
Rygar sniffs sharply at the laughter and answer he is given. "I see. Then Her Ladyship had best hope she has something fit for such an occupation," he notes, with a wry curl twisting his habitual frown for a short moment, before the morsel of meat is taken, shewed and swallowed.
Igara smiles at the hinting. At least Rygar can tell she has a mind. "Oh, there -is- to be a gala," she asserts in a hushed manner. "How exciting. Oh, do not fret, my Lord. If it is meant to be a surprise, she will not hear it from me. Oh, do tell me when it is, I pray."
"As soon as one may be organized," Rygar returns, shortly. Clearly in light of the swift wedding, such niceties as a birthday gift have gone by the wayside. "And as soon as Lord Ryker learns that he is throwing a gala for Her Ladyship, we may have some idea as to timing, lady." The knife is wiped clean and tucked away, as Rygar draws one last draught of tart beer, before setting the flagon again to the table.
Igara is still no little bit thrilled by the notion. "If my Lords need any help in its preparation, you only need ask it of me," Igara offers. "But may I be excused for the evening, Lord Rygar? It grows late, and I still must finish these slippers."
"You may," Rygar assents for the second time that evening. This time as he rises to his feet for Igara to go her own way, he does not retake the chair afterward. his dinner done, his business addressed, and tomorrow's occupation discovered, he directs the lingering retainer to remain with Igara. Proper ladies should not be alone, after all.