|Summary:||Ser Jarod has one for Raffton Howell.|
|Related Logs:||The Kathryna @ Roost logs|
|The Green — Terrick's Roost|
|Grassy. Horses. Targets.|
|Tue Dec 20, 288|
It's just after morning drills for the Terrick House men-at-arms. Those not occupied with other duties at this hour, at least. They've focused heavily on cavalry drilling of late. Lots of hitting stationary targets with spears. Though there's still the standard blade-work as well. Jarod has just dismounted and is handing his sturdy brown courser off to a page to be watered and led back to the stables. It's warm, though far from as hot as it'll get as the day winds closer to noon. The Captain of the Guard prefers to get the meat of drilling out of the way before the full heat of the long summer weather sets in.
Raffton hasn't the best seat of the men-at-arms, and he's more comfortable with a spear on the ground than on horseback. But years of training has made some difference, and he works diligently along with the others, and a bit after, as well. Red-faced from sun and exertion, pale hair tied up in a short queue to keep it off his neck, he's one of the last to dismount and return his spear to the rack. He wipes at his face with the inside of his shirt as he leads his horse back to be stabled with the others, bobbing his head to Jarod as he nears, "Captain, Ser."
Jarod goes to water himself from a convenient barrel at the edge of the grass training yard after his horse is seen off. He dips his skin in, filling it and then proceeding to glug from it. It's only after he's had a healthy gulp that he addresses Raffton. "Howell. How were you feeling on your mount out there?"
Raffton takes up the dipper from the barrel after Jarod's filled his skin, drinking deeply and then splashing some on this face. He shrugs at the question, nodding a bit, "Bout as good as ever, ser," he says, "Never going t'be as good as Flannery or Miller, I don't figure, but I can see to holding a line well enough as anyone."
"Keep at work on it. Only way to get better, and at least you're putting in the extra time to improve," Jarod syas.
"Keep at it. And putting in extra time at it. You're still rough, but it's improving. Though, come to it. I've got a rather different assignment for you in mind. Doesn't involve horses." Jarod pauses for another drink, then asks, "You met the Lady Kathryna Harlaw since she's been at the castle? The Ironborn woman."
Raffton nods obediantly, agreeing, "Will do, captain. Ser?" Brows rise at the pause, and the swipes a hand over his hair, shoving loose bits back from his face as the warm breeze whips them about. His gaze narrows a bit as Jarod goes on, and he shrugs. "Seen her 'bout," he says.
"Now that she's back at the Roost, I'd like you to meet better with her," Jarod says to the diffident guardsman. "See if you can figure out, better than the rest of us at least, what she wants from us. Lord Jason Mallister thinks the recent quiet among the raiders from the Iron Islands might be due to fighting amongst the Islanders themselves. If that's true, the Harlaws have the closest ties to the mainland of any of their nobles. Perhaps she's looking for allies. Or to deal in some fashion other than she's being open about."
That narrowing of eyes is now accompanied by a lowering of brows, Raffton frowning a bit at the assignment given. "Don't know she'd want to talk to me, Ser," he mumbles, "Can't think she'd look kindly. Guess I can try if you want."
"She seems to bristle at much familiarity from anyone else. Perhaps because we don't know her ways. Or she looks down on ours, I'm not sure which. Except the Camdens, oddly enough." That incongruity makes Jarod laugh. And smirk. "Well, she's getting something out of that from one of their lords, you believe the rumors. Anyhow. I figure it can't hurt. Not asking you to spy on her, precisely." Not precisely. "But she is a strange presence in this house. I've not quite gotten a handle on her, and I mislike things I don't have a handle on. Give it a go. She'll talk or she won't."
Raffton scrubs at his jaw and lifts the ladle from the barrel for another drink, and then nods. "If y'like, captain." He doesn't sound terribly enthused about the idea, but he'll do it.
Jarod reaches out to clap Raffton on the shoulder. He's a touchy fellow, in a back-slapping kind of way. "I appreciate it. Now, to your liberty for the afternoon. And let me know how it goes with the lady."
Raffton doesn't seem to mind, no doubt used to Jarod's friendly ways by now if nothing else. He nods again, and then again shoves hair out of his face. "Aye, ser," he says, saluting before he heads off.