|Summary:||A contingent of Tordane and Nayland sworn and Nobles seek to speak to the Prince of Pyke. But he has gone.|
|Related Logs:||What is Dead Cannot Die, And They All Fall Down|
|Fields - Stonebridge|
|Copse of trees on a hill to the southwest of the town. Once the Greyjoy camp.|
|Wed July 17, 288|
The duel had done much to fuel the concerns of the Lady of Stonebridge in regards to the relations with the Ironmen. Gathering some of her sworn and seeking added presence of the present Lords of Nayland, Ryker and Rygar, Isolde sets out towards the camp of the Ironborn. All are on horseback and the Lady lets some of the sworn lead while she sets in the middle of them, her Lady Cousin with her. "I am sorry to drag you along on this, Igara. But as my mother attends to those at the tourney, we must attend to the well being of our lands." She offers a faint smile, the plodding of horses mixing togethe, her own grey dappled gelding tossing his head a moment. THe air is hot, the season rather warm and the area they head towards is a small grove to the southwest of Stonebridge.
Rygar's horsemanship makes him a poor jouster, but the knight cuts a dignified figure in the saddle, sitting bolt upright as he guides the horse toward the camp of the self-proclaimed 'Prince of Pyke'. Stern of countenance, Rygar's habitually grave expression is marked by a frown tugging at his brows as the party draws nearer to the hill claimed by the Greyjoy camp.
Ryker has similar concerns for the well-being of both the lands, but most certainly the concerns that the family will be lumped in with the Terricks — an issue he has no problem discussing. His face seems to match that of Rygar's as the future Lord of Stonebridge rides beside him on their approach.
Igara isn't the most skilled equestrian in the lands— she prefers the quieter, less physical pursuits of needlework and weaving. But she's had enough time on horseback to sit primly on a lady's side-saddle on the compliant little pony provided for her, keeping well alongside the Lady of Stonebridge. "There isn't any need to apologize, my gentle cous," she replies, doing her best to keep her voice smooth and her back straight as the little animal clops along, holding the reins wound above her pinky and then up again over her forefinger, down under her thumb in a secure grasp, riding-gloves to make certain her hands don't blister. "You care so for your lands— it is very becoming of you."
It would seem amongst the nobles present, Isolde seems most comfortable in the saddle. A glance is offered back to the two Lords and then returned in time to Igara. "Please, call me Isolde, there is no need for labels when family is present." Though she smiles, there is a dire look to her green eyes as she turns her head forward again, the copse of trees begins to take on more detail as the contigent of Nayland and Tordane with a dash of Frey makes its way up the incline. The odd thing is, there is no smoke from fires or the like yet and that makes Isolde heel her horse forward a bit more. The sworn in the fore take up that distance a little more swiftly to assure that the receiving of the Riverland's nobles is considered by the Ironborn.
Brows furrow deep lines into her brow as she replies, "If one does not care for their lands..they have forsaken the trust given to them in their title."
First to come into view is the circle of burnt out torches and cut hazel boughs in which the duel was fought the night before. There are points within that grassy glade where the dark hues of blood spilled and dried can be glimpsed, but of the main Ironborn camp, there is nothing to be seen.
Rygar turns a keen blue eye over the field and voices to Ryker, "I will ahead, to see if aught else remains of their camp, cousin. But it looks as though the Greyjoys have gone."
No fires at the camp. Ryker glances over to Rygar and then back up the hill while the sworn take off ahead. "It would appear that way. Let us hope that is not the case. Please, ride ahead." The heir stays with Isolde and Igara, falling back to them while his head turns about the terrain protectively.
Igara sets her eyes on the circle and sets her mouth in a drawn line, putting her free hand on the back of her saddle and clutching onto it in a subtle expression of nervousness. She doesn't ask anything further, nor utter further platitudes, but sits in wait upon the pony, a study in refined poise grappling with anxiety.
Her head turns as Rygar moves forward with the sworn that had been at the head of the group. Isolde frowns and presses her lips into a firm line. "This does not bode well.." She breathes and keeps her gaze ahead scanning. "Brein.." SHe calls to the sworn closest to her side. "Take two riders, go about the copse and look to see for tracks or signs. Make sure they have not just moved camp. If not..I want to know where they have gone." There is an edge of an order in her voice but he nods, "My Lady.." She lets out a long breath. Her gaze sweeps to Igara and Ryker, "Excuse me.." She heels her horse and with ease, the thing hammers forward, carrying with her as the Lady seems to shift as one with the gelding, hurrying to join Rygar and look at what is left of the House of Greyjoy.
Rygar nods curtly once to Ryker and guides his horse ahead with pressure from his heels and a flick to the reins. Although the dispatched riders pass out of sight amongst the trees for a time, the depressed grass, cold campfires, and utter absence of any tents, baggage or persons of the Greyjoy camp leave an onlooker with the distinct impression he is not likely to find anything. After several turns, Rygar guides his mount back toward the others, voicing, "Not so much as a smoldering cinder. It looks as though they struck camp and left in the night. South and west, if I were to guess."
Ryker watches Isolde takes off. "Isold- Godsdamnit," he sighs. Rygar will watch out for her. The man waits patiently for the return of the report though and looks off in the direction indicated. "So we have no way of knowing if the Greyjoys intend to hold the Nayland and Tordane name as accountable as the Terricks for that wonderful mess?" He looks back to Rygar. "Think there may be any hope of finding and catching them before they depart back for the Isles?"
Igara lifts her chin, opening her mouth with the beginnings of a protest stifled to a single squeak before she closes her mouth again, unable to keep up with Isolde on her pony nor willing to shout after her. Shouting is hardly ladylike, after all. Isolde's departure does leave her with Ryker, but at the very least they're on separate mounts and with help still bearing witness. And as Rygar returns, her eyes are downcast, she soothes the pony's antsy stepping with a stroke of her hand, and she listens in on the latest developments without comment or opinion. As is proper.
Seeing a bit more clearly what Rygar offers through words, Isolde frowns further and remains, searching the camp that once was. Nothing. Her brows furrow deeper and at Ryker's question, a shake of her head is given. "I was too late in coming…we should have been here last night but I feared our presence would mean we condoned it. I had hoped by absence we might show our lack of support for the Knight's actions." the Lady looks to the southwest, drawing a long breath. "We need a group to go. Towards the coast. Only a few. With fewer men they can cover more ground and hopefully give word to the Prince of Pyke…" She says.
"We could," Rygar answers his cousin's query evenly. "Though I doubt the Terricks will be inclined to permit out riders to cross their grounds." a steady eye passes between Ryker and Isolde. "I suspect that if the Greyjoys wanted words, they would have remained. But presuming that they will listen, and the riders reach them without incident, what words would you see given?"
Ryker shakes his head. "Coming last night would have been a mistake, by my guess. We did not show as we did not support the duel at any level — even socially." He grunts and looks back to his cousin. "You are likely right. As for what I would tell them? That I hope that the Terricks' behavior and attitude towards law does not reflect on the entire region." His voice is flat, clearly not impressed with the duel.
Igara lifts her eyes toward her cousin, glance wide and woeful as she returns without a trace of the missing guests, listening for her answer as to what would be said to the folk, had she the chance.
The grey dapple gelding sidesteps, the Lady shifting in the saddle as she listens. Isolde's gaze drifts back up to the abandoned copse and she catches her breath. "There is little that can be said other than wishing well and distancing ourselves with the Terricks." Those last words seem a bit pressed, but they come out nevertheless. "Either way, for them to leave as they did…it is not a good sign." She turns to Rygar, watching him. "I need to speak to your Lord Uncle and my father-in law as soon as possible. Whether the Terrick's like it or not, the Greyjoys may not have left at all. We need to make sure Stonebridge and those at the tourney are safe. Nayland sworn must be allowed."
"My lady yet has Tordane men she might send," Rygar points out to Isolde. "there are fifty men near at hand, should they be needed. After the marriage, we shall keep a garrison at Stonebridge to ensure any reprisals are prevented. But should words with the Terrick be sought and an allowance gained, it should be you who asks it, Lady." A nice friendly request from Rygar himself being judged counterproductive to compromise.
Isolde's comment about distancing from the Terricks gets a very quick but pointed glance from Ryker to Rygar. It may not even be noticed by anyone else. But his attention stays focused on the Lady and the words exchanged between the two. "Agreed, Isolde. You would be best suited for this. We will deploy the fifty as needed, with your invitation, before the wedding. Otherwise they will wait outside town. But these are your lands and you are a friendlier face than either of us." Another massive understatement courtesy of Ryker.
Igara lowers her eyes again, taking in the plans without interjecting herself in them nor taking one stated opinion or the other. But there's something turning behind those wide witch-hazel eyes— whatever it is kept duly shielded by her long eyelashes.
Regarding Rygar, Isolde gives a slow nod of her head. "I shall speak with them. But this matter of disappearing Ironborn needs to be offered to the Lords of the houses here at tourney. I would ask that you join me in that, along with my husband to be." She gives Ryker her attention before she grasps her reins, turning the gelding about. "Very well." She says, no smile upon her face at this grave find. "Tordane sworn, five of which will pursue the direction the Ironborn are thought to have headed, shall go at full gallop with a word written in my hand. They may not catch them but if they see nothing of boats or the like on the coast, we will be certain that the Greyjoys have not left. In either case…" Isolde draws a long breath, "I wil speak with Lord Jerold myself. Explain the situation. I am sure he will understand the need for safety and Nayland sworn shall find rank with Tordane sworn. They will split off in that manner and patrol the town and outskirts to ascertain we have no fear of an unknown attack." She draws a long breath, as if readying herself for what is to come. "Terrick will have to learn to deal with the changes that are to come and there is no better time than now." There is a determined look to her green gaze.
"There are many better times than now," Rygar opines evenly. "Every day that follows your wedding will be a better day than this to test the tolerance of the Terricks, Lady. Send your men as you choose, with what words you will. That is your right. I had good cause for ordering the Nayland spears to remain across the Stone bridge: their crossing before your marriage could grant Jerold Terrick grounds to occupy Stonebridge, forcing a confrontation." A drawn breath, "Until knowing whether the Ironborn have withdrawn, I do not advise it."
Ryker listens to Isolde while she throws down orders. The man is quick with his reply: "Yes, m'Lady." He intends to follow those instructions from the Lady of Stonebridge. After Rygar replies, he nods. "Whatever you decide, the sworn will be alerted to possibly break camp and ride at your command. However, when you do speak with Lord Jerold, please do try to get across our concern," that is putting it very mildly, "that the Terricks are allowing their ideals to get in the way of Kings Law. That such behavior is inherently dangerous to not just their own, but all noble families." Its a request.
Igara does not lift her eyes from their zone of focus on her pony's neck, keeping Isolde's horse and the others in her peripheral vision while she keeps the flower of her gaze to herself. Finally, after long, demure silence, these words from the slip of a Frey: "If my gentle cous wishes, I will gladly take down a draft of her word for her to copy out in her own hand." With all the commotion, she's taken to speaking to people in the third person, meekly offering her services as secretary.
Rygar's point is noted and Isolde's brow furrows. Silence from the Lady for the moment as she considers the counsel offered. Her green gaze lifts to regard Igara who has fallen to silence for a moment. Her chin lifts and there is perhaps a seeking look then given to Ryker. Trust. Perhaps there is something to it and how the man has gone about earning it from her. "Nayland sworn stay where they are till I have had a chance to speak with Lord Terrick. Once he knows our position and that the Greyjoy's have broken camp, he may yet see the need for added protection. Either way, the contingent to head after the Greyjoys must be off at once. To wait any longer is to lessen the chances." She hesitates, "Let us return to the Hall so as I might compose something to be sent. I will be glad of my Lady Cousin's script. Then, " She looks to Igara. "We shall see to the injured Lord and I can then speak with Jerold Terrick." She starts to click her tongue, steering her gelding back down as the sworn start to fall into place about the nobles. Seems she is not waiting to hear anymore.
Rygar nods sharply once as Isolde assents, guiding his horse about to face back toward Tordane tower, and voices, "The men will be prepared to ride by the time your letter is written, Lady." the Nayland knight seems intent on riding ahead, to prepare the Tordane sworn for their upcoming assignment.
With nothing more to say, Ryker only dips his head to Isolde and turns the horse as he kicks his heels back. He's no slouch on the animal so catching up to Isolde for the ride back is not hard.
Igara pats her little pony with her heel and soon has it tot-tot-totting along after her taller cousin's taller mount, wasting no time as she day is repidly filling with things which need seen to.