Page 286: Coming to Accords
Coming to Accords
Summary: Jarod attempts to be comely and charming in front of his goodsister. He and Rafferdy discuss the recent dueling extravaganza briefly.
Date: 01/05/289
Related Logs: The Jarod Becomes a Nayland saga, and the Stonebridge duel
Jarod Rafferdy Roslyn 
Town Square — Stonebridge
The surrounding terrain has several small gullies and streams that feed into the waterfront area just adjacent to the town square, the sails of the boats visible over the tops of the buildings. The square is floored in the same heavy stone that the east docks and castle are constructed of while the buildings are a mix of the stone, wood, and mortar. There are quite a few fish vendors with their fragrant catches for sale among groups of tables which tend to be busy most of the time.
Tue May 01, 289

A lone noblewoman is of little note in the bustle of the town square, for all that she has stopped to eye the fish for sale among the busiest part of it. She has only dragged along a guard in the livery of Tordane Tower that stands respectfully back from the lady, though Roslyn herself wears no colors that identify her own house, wrapped instead in her familiar grey cloak with white rabbit trim. Her eyes skim over a particularly brilliant colored trout, for all that death has dimmed the sparkle of its scales. She asks a question of its fishmonger, a low, murmured thing that is more curious than if she were seeking a sale.

Also of little note, Jarod (nee?) Rivers exiting Crane's Crossing. Wearing a sword, though no livery or signifier of his house, so he looks not more than a middling-successful sellsword, or a hedge knight minus his armor and spurs. His green tunic is of decent make and reasonably clean, though it has that vaguely lived-in look of one who's been traveling for awhile and probably worn it more than once. He makes his way into the marketplace proper, idly whistling under his breath, though the notes are too sporadic to be called a proper tune. He may not even notice he's doing it.

Roslyn's gaze lifts from the fish at catching the sound of a whistle, flickering over the knight for a moment as she assess where the sound comes from in the crowd of the market. Her look only lingers briefly, a study made as she arrives at the inevitable conclusion that his garb makes any draw. Her slight turn back to the stall is dismissive, even as she shifts forward further down the line of fish. The Tordane man pays more attention to the sellsword, though whether it is recognition or merely alertness to any possible danger to his guard is not clear.

Jarod has spent enough time in Stonebridge, particularly when it was Terrick land, that the Tordane man likely does recognize him. He notes the look, at least, offering the guard a quick, friendly grin. He can summon the expression quite easily to his face. He turns from whatever random wandering he was doing then, and approaches the pair of them. Though he seems more interested in the guard than the lady he's accompanying. "Pardons, my lady. Master." He at least has enough etiquette to address to obvious noble first. "Have you a moment?"

"Ser," Roslyn offers him politely, though it is obviously only that that gives him the title as she inclines her head in a small bow to the man. "May I ask what you need of the moment first?" She shifts away from the table of fish, drawing her cloak all the tighter around herself.

"I am still that, aye, my lady," Jarod says a little wryly, though his smile flashes more boyish at her, and he drops into a deep, flourishing bow. It's all of mummer's show flair. He probably spent hours in the mirror perfecting it. Though his manner is businesslike enough as he straightens up. "I was hoping you might know if the Lord Regent was still in town, or if he'd returned to the Mire?"

Eyebrows drawing somewhat upwards in surprise at the question finding her, Roslyn manages a wry, "I should hope the Lord Riordan is still in town, or I would find myself well abandoned." A smile softens her joke, a light thing that finds her lips for a moment before those steady hazel eyes of hers studies Jarod again. "He has business that takes him away from the town today, however. Is the business you have with him pressing?"

Jarod hesitates a beat, before shaking his head. "Not so pressing it can't wait a day, m'lady, thank you. It is likely not really a thing for me to ask, anyway. Thank you for the news." He eyes her a beat, curiously. And up and down some. But mostly curiously. "Pardon me, m'lady, but have we met? You've a very familiar look about you, but I can't for the life of me recall having the pleasure. I've no head for names but I'm good with faces, usually."

"I do not believe we have, ser, for I would remember, surely. If you know my brother, however, it is likely his look that you feel so familiar with. I am Lady Roslyn Nayland of the Mire," Roslyn replies softly, so as not to be overheard by fishmongers or the crowd that continues their business around them. She pauses, leveling a thoughtful look on Jarod again. "If you are like to wait a day, you will not catch Lord Riordan. We will be traveling home by the earliest time tomorrow."

"Your brother…" It takes Jarod's brain a second to assemble the pieces, though they thunk together while Roslyn is giving her name. "I…oh." His smile turns very rueful. "Huh. Uh. Pleasure, m'lady. I've heard nothing but wonderful things about you." The statement is vacant and vague, so he's probably heard absolutely nothing. "I am Ser Jarod…Um." He trails off and leaves it at, "…I am Ser Jarod, m'lady" without supplying a surname or place of origin.

Roslyn's lips tighten at the given name, but she smiles still with a twist of lips as she sweeps into a more proper curtsy. Her words are polite, though lacking something in warmth as she says, "My goodbrother, I take it. It is a pleasure to finally meet you, ser. I am sorry to have missed you at the Mire, but surely we will have many opportunities to get to know one another when next you visit."

Jarod expects not warmth, so he's hardly wounded by the lack of it. He bows again, all flourishy. "My goodsister!" he replies in kind as he straightens again. "You are even lovelier than Rowenna describes." If Rowenna described her at all, which is doubtful. "I figure we'll be off to Seagard after our business in this town is done. Censure from the Terrick's liege lords is due me for…umm…well. The whole lying about her being a boy squire…thing." That thing. "I expect we shall return to the Mire when that's done. There were some details with our…umm…betrothal?" Which they skipped, so he seems to know he's using the wrong word. "Umm. Anyway. There're a few odds and ends to settle still, I figure."

"Yes, there must be many details for you to see to," Roslyn agrees simply, inclining her head briefly as she offers a softened smile to her words. She adds, "We will await your return anxiously, and only hope that all goes in your favor with the Mallisters." She pauses, adding, "I shall tell Lord Riordan as soon as I see him that our new brother was seeking him in regards to business."

"Yes, umm, that's quite all right. I'll find himself, my lady. It's not pressing, I assure you," Jarod says quick. "And thank you. I hope so as well. Lord Terrick took it poorly, as was his right. It had been his house and on his honor, after all. But your father was very gracious to us. Far more than I expected. To your sister more than myself, I'm sure, but it gladdens me all the same. Please convey him my thanks to your lord father when you see him next, as it'll likely be before we do."

"My lord father is a gracious man, and cares much for his children. If you do right by my lady sister and make her well content, I am sure that will be enough thanks for him," murmurs Roslyn, the weight of her gaze barely lifting from Jarod as if she could find his measure just by her stare. Perhaps that touch of narrowing to her eyes may speak to some conclusions already drawn. "Do you believe your own father will forgive you in time?"

Jarod stands up a notch straighter at Roslyn weighs him. Like he's afraid slouching might lose him points on whatever scale she's using. As to her last question, it's a beat before he answers. "In time, my lady, aye. Time's good for most things. He did what he must, and I bear him no ill for it."

"I must admit, I am surprised you would say such to me. That you would not speak to us Naylands and play on the feelings my father bears towards yours to ingratiate yourself." There is a certain care to her words as Roslyn states this, the touch of a smile to her lips briefly either for his response or the way he straightens. She adds, "If you do not take offense at so bold of words."

Jarod chuckles at that. "To my fault, my lady, I take little offense at boldness. Quite the opposite." Seemingly unable to help himself, he winks at her. Though her first words meet with a shake of his head. "I have ever been well done-by in Lord Jerold's house, my lady, far more than one such as me would've likely been in any other. I'm not…" He pauses a beat, like he's choosing his words carefully. A thing he's plainly not used to doing. "…I had hoped, and wished, for things to go different, but I understood what might be the price of what I was doing. It's my hope, come to it, that with the matter of Stonebridge literally dead and near-buried, that there might be more accord between our families."

"I wish you luck in that, ser, and would find it admirable if you could see such accord brought about," Roslyn answers politely, though her words hold the brush of truth reflected in her steady gaze. "I had assumed you were not the type to be put off by a bold woman's words, if you found little fault in Rowenna's actions."

Jarod makes a short "Ha" sound. "Us getting to an accord with that between ourselves was a little more complicated than that, Lady Roslyn. But she's a fierce, brave girl, and very sweet in her way, and I love her very much." He's rather doofy about the whole thing, really. "As for accord, I'm not sure how much help I'll be with that just now. Apart from the whole…err…reputation-ruining scandal…thing." That thing. "…Rowenna and I don't particularly matter. I'm a bastard, and she at least was disowned and is unlikely to be granted more than her name and some forgiveness by her family. We don't matter, or we couldn't have done what we did in the first place, I don't think." He laughs. "I half-figured we'd have to flee the Riverlands and run away to Dorne or something."

"I would be very wroth with you if you took my sister so far from us, Ser Jarod. She matters to her family more than you may assume." Infact, Roslyn's pointedly raised eyebrow says she means her words where she offers a slight smile. "And her happiness, as well." A pause. "I could only wish her happiness didn't come at such a cost, but I am sure you and her shall work hard to fix what you have caused."

"We shall, my lady, my promise on it. I tire of living a lie. If it's hard now, and I shall admit because of your kin it's less bad than I expected, that's payment for that. We can build something honest now, and I shall try my best to make her happy." Jarod is very earnest about trying his best. "Do you have a betrothed, my lady? Perhaps we can go riding together sometime, or hawking or…something? What do you like to do?"

His question earns a wry smile, for all that his words have softened her demeanor towards him, and Roslyn resists the urge to gesture to herself as she answers, "It has been many years since anyone has proposed any talk of my hand to my lord father, Ser Jarod. Though, it would please me to spend more time with my goodbrother, and I have learned to ride adequately. My brother would give me no peace until I could seat a horse properly."

"Oh." Jarod's at least spent enough time among noblewomen to be aware he's blundered into a topic he should try to extricate himself from. "Well. Riding it is, then! Should be fun. There's much of the Mire I want to see, now that I'm reasonably sure my head's not going to end up on a spike on Lord Rickart's wall. Though he still might feed me to one of those crocodile creatures in a bog."

"He will likely make such intentions known, if he comes to them. Till then, I would assume it is safe enough to ride with me, as I can show you what paths I know," Roslyn replies teasingly, no seeming discontent at the subject that he dismisses with furthered words. Indeed, she does not seem at all upset over her lack of betrothal, if the friendly smile she gives him is any indication. "When you return, then, to the Mire."

"I look forward to it, Lady Roslyn, when we return," Jarod replies. He's stumbled upon Roslyn not far from Crane's Crossing, near the stables, and the pair of them are conversing amicably enough. "We may end up making our lives in Stonebridge, at least for a beginning, though I want to see how things go with the Mallisters first."

"I assume you will send word once the business is concluded? You can understand the emotional investment my own family would have at whatever happens there." There is a quiet concern to Roslyn's tone as she nods understandingly to his plans.

Jarod nods quick to Roslyn. "Of course, my lady. We shall have to come back this way just after, anyhow. Your brother, Ser Riordan, offered me a place at Stonebridge should the Naylands retain it. I am not yet certain if I can in good conscience accept, my heart still being so much with my blood, but it is something I am considering very much. As I said, I pray with the death of Ser Gedeon Tordane that that mess is decided once and done."

"As do we all," Roslyn murmurs, "may the Seven watch over him where ever he has gone." She sweeps a quick curtsy to Jarod with a nod, adding, "I know my lord brother, Ser Jarod, and he would not put you in any position that would strain your conscience against your family."

Rafferdy wanders towards the two, dressed in his typical commoners clothing, and he smirks, "Ser Nayland? Haven't you already gotten close enough with one of my sisters?" He laughs, looking at Roslyn, whom he likely hasn't seen or spoken to in nearly 8 years, save spotting her at the duel.

"I thank you, my lady, and may the Seven keep you as well." If Jarod's about to say more, Rafferdy's greeting distracts him. He snorts. "Ser Jarod'll do for now. Best keep things simple, pisses fewer people off. I was just meeting Lady Roslyn. Who I've heard all those lovely things about." He was probably not completely sure what Rowenna's sisters names were until he stumbled upon her in the street.

"I believe it is appropriate for family to get to know each other properly," Roslyn replies as well, though she is suddenly gathering skirts to draw towards Rafferdy with a sweep of them. Much more warmth and affection lightens her expression for her actual brother than it had for her goodbrother, an almost breathless laugh as she greets, "Little Rafferdy. You look downright threadbare."

Rafferdy smiles, and glances at Jarod concerning the clothing comment, "That's a compliment." He laughs a bit, and he touches her shoulder, giving her a light kiss on the cheek. "You're a lot bigger than I remember. I mean, that's not…" He laughs, "I'm not saying you're fat! Just taller!"

"How's the mood in the town?" Jarod asks Rafferdy. "After…well. Everything."

"It most assuredly was not a compliment, brother. If I could drag you away to a tailor this instance, I would," Roslyn teases wryly, her own fingers lifting to his shoulder in a squeeze as she leans into that kiss. But then she is drawing back as is polite in so public a place, curstying lightly as she adds, "I have things to attend, before we take our leave for the Mire. It was a pleasure, Ser Jarod. Rafferdy, I order you to find me to catch up, as soon as possible."

Rafferdy laughs again, "Not much to catch up on, but… sure." He gives her a smile, and allows her space to leave. Looking at Jarod, he shrugs, "To be honest, I'm not sure. I've been kind of busy. I imagine most of them are sitting around curious as to how Stonebridge will continue to be maintained as contested, what with the marriage revelation…" He rolls his eyes.

"The pleasure is all mine, my lady," Jarod says, giving her another of those mummer's show bows he traffics in. For the girls, at least. He only half-rises this time, reaching out to take her hand, if she allows.

Roslyn does, but perhaps she is too used to only family making such gestures as she moves to only squeeze the man's hand before trying to slip her own away with an offered smile. "Take care, sers," she adds in a last farewell, regardless of her brother's lack of that proper title, before she retreats and drags along her guard.

Rafferdy furrows his brow a bit as his sister leaves, mumbling, "I'm… not a… knight…" He sighs, tilting his head as he watches her go. He shakes his head, and then looks back at Jarod. "Anyway. How are you?"

Jarod straightens up as Roslyn departs, shrugging to Rafferdy's question. "Alive, which is better than the alternative. I am well, I think. There's still whatever waits in Seagard, and I doubt we're done with your lord father. Or mine. But it all seems to matter less now. Or it seems like a much smaller bit of idiocy, at least. And yourself, Fun Nayland?"

Rafferdy shrugs, "Dealing with the fallout of the duel. I hate that Gedeon is dead, and it's for nothing. Stonebridge will continue to be argued over." He sighs, "The same would have been true had Gedeon won and Rygar was dead. It makes it all… Well, it makes it seem like a waist if neither side will just settle on agreeing something, ANYTHING, was the FINAL decision."

"It was a judicial duel. The law and gods decided. It's over and done," Jarod says simply, as to Ser Gedeon. Whatever else he thinks on the man, he keeps it to himself. "Anyone who keeps fighting for it now is just fighting to lose. Lord Tully's got a man on the way. Has to be, as Gedeon Tordane was going to be installed as lord. My hope is, the Lord Paramount's word will put an end to the bickering over it and we can all have some peace."

Rafferdy shakes his head, "Did you not hear? Gedeon married. Supposedly sired a kid." He smirks, "Gedeon apparently didn't think the duel was enough. So… The mess continues."

"I know. To the Lady Danae. Poor woman." Jarod does sound, more than anything else, truly sorry for her. "It matters not. Gedeon Tordane accepted the challenge, before gods and man, and Ser Rygar's blade judged him by the laws of both. She can fight it if she likes, and perhaps serve as a hand to slap Lady Valda from beyond the grave. Which I half-suspect is the main reason he wed her, before the duel was decided, rather than just betrothing himself to her. But it was a dirty fight to begin with, and that'll only give it less legitimacy, all over a name that's perhaps better dead.

Rafferdy furrows his brow, "Why do you say the fight was dirty?"

Jarod shakes his head. "Just meant…it was a messy business, all around. For your family, mine, and for Ser Gedeon most of all in the end. It's done, and I'm glad it's done. Gedeon Tordane was my friend, and this was his father's land, and I think he would've been a good lord to it. But he is dead, and the way it went, that should end it. I pray Lady Danae'll see that soon."

Rafferdy nods, "Well… I have no interest arguing over who should or shouldn't control Stonebridge with you, but, I do believe that if she drags this on and makes the duel pointless, she disrespects his memory and his honor as a knight."

"She just can't win, and I think it was wrong of him to expect her to carry on with it after he was gone. She'll have no other kind of life as it is," Jarod says. But he shrugs. "Anyhow. I should go see to my Rowenna. And…take care of some other odds and ends. Hope the day treats you well, Fun Nayland, and the town stays calm."

Rafferdy nods, "Be well, Jarod. Tell Ro I said she still smells like a boy," he adds with a laugh.