|Decision Is Made.. We Leave Tonight.|
|Summary:||… after a stop to the tavern.|
|Date:||20 August, 2011|
|Grand Hall - Tall Oaks Keep|
|The massive room is not just a dining hall but it presents itself as the throne room too, extending into the second floor with a view of the landing looking down into it, the stairs curling along the front right. There is a plateaud rise of several steps along the back. Two thrones rest there, hand carven out of oak and worn with time. The high windows let in the air and the gentle breezes of the forest that whisper their songs through the large room. But what is more, is the collection of scrolls and books along the left wall, tucked beneath an overhang on shelves. Records, stories, histories, all clumped together in a fashion on a Maester would understand. The long table set in the middle ofthe room is on top of a near threadbare carpet done in the colors of house Camden and each chair looks as if it is used daily, speaking of large gatherings. The Hall in itself is a cathedral to the forest without.|
|20 August, 288|
It's mid-afternoon and the sun rages high above the canopy of the trees with only the slightest of pinpricks of light filtering through and then into the grand hall through the large windows. A soft breeze moves through the room, helping to keep things cool amongst the heat that rises from the ground. Servants move in and out of the room as they tend to their duties and the tasks that have been given to them.
Having sent word for a runner to find and locate Dafydd, Sarojyn had made his way up that plateaud rise and has seated himself upon his 'throne' and judging from the fact that one of the stable workers within, it's clear that something is being prepared, for the worker makes a mental note of things and then bows his head so as to promptly vacated a speedy pace when dismissed. Then, the Lord of Tall Oaks is looking to a scribe, offering a few quiet words which are written down without question.
The summons comes, and Lord Dafydd Camden isn't sure to be surprised or whathaveyou. It is known the journey is in the preparatory stages, and the last few details need still be worked out so that they may move forward on other tasks, but that doesn't lesson that 'huh' factor.
The courrier is bid to tell the Lord that he is on his way, and with a quick cleaning up; new leathers atop clean linen, a sword strapped to his belt, the Captain of the Guard answers the summons. Upon arriving in the Grand Hall, there is very little that escapes his blue eyed gaze.. the first and foremost, the fact that he is received by the Lord upon his seat. That requires.. a certain amount of shift of manner and mien, even if they are family.
Striding down the center, Dafydd pauses, inclines his head and greets, "My Lord.. you asked for my presence." A statement.
Dafydd's entry into the Grand Hall and his greeting draws a shift of Sarojyn's attention, one in which he raises his hand to indicate a moment's pause. Eyes then look back to the scribe and with a few murmered words, he's giving the man a nod of his head, which must be taken as a dimissal, for the scribe bows his head and turns to leave. It's then that Saro looks back to his brother and as he begins to rise from his seat, he's offering the younger Camden a quick smile. "Brother, I'm glad that the runner found you. You and I will ride at sun set for Terrick's Roost." No mention of the ladies, it would seem. Or anyone else. "We have need to speak with them of his request from this Knight. From there, we will make our way to Stonebridge and then to the Mire."
Dafydd may be able to school his expression to anyone in this land, within and without, but never, ever from his brothers— particularly his eldest. Saro's caught him completely offguard, which it seems he is beginning to do on a frighteningly regular basis. Once his greeting is done, and he returns, after a fashion, from his brief, necessary obeissance, he simply stands.. and stares.
It isn't often the Captain is at a loss for words, but..
Here's one time.
"Brother.." a smile begins to crease the younger Lord's face, ".. I will make sure we're stocked appropriately for our ride." Already, he's glad that his sword is at the ready with its edge, his bow.. the newly arrived fletched and pointed arrows in the barrels..
"If I may ask, to what do I owe this bit of good news?" Oh, Saro knows exactly what he's talking about!
Watching his brother, Sarojyn can't help but allow the faintest of grins to cross his lips as he dips a slight nod of his head towards his younger, "I have already seen to provisions and the like, Dafydd. Horses are being readied as we speak, as well. It will be you and I and two other guards." That final question does draw a laugh from the man and it's only when he moves to make his way off that plateaud rise that he finally begins to answer, "Believe it or not, brother, I do listen to your counsel and take it under advisement. In this, you were right and I was wrong and it's for that reason that Damara and Alyse will remain behind."
Well, there goes that bit of busy work, but that's fine, all in all. Dafydd allows for a relieved smile to crease his face, the expression reaching his eyes. Shaking his head, he lets out a quiet chuckle, "Will you, then, brother, not put up such a damned argument when you know I'm right next time?" The lot of them— stubborn!
With Sarojyn leaving his dais, Dafydd approaches again to join his brother, "How are you going to keep them home? Lock and key? Or are we to borrow the cloaks of the lumber traders and depart with a caravan on hacks, meeting up with our horses some distance away?"
"Part of the privilage of being Head of the House, brother, is that I get to decide when I'm right or when I'm wrong." There's a quirk of his lips into a deeper grin and a slight dip of his head that shows Sarojyn is clearly joking with that statement. Stepping off the dias now, he's moving towards Dafydd, only to them offer another soft chuckle, "Damara is fine with staying behind. We spoke, at length, and she was in agreement. I haven't caught Alyse yet and if I don't find her before we go, then Damara will have the task of telling the reasoning. I figure it would be best from her, rather then Micah."
"Not to make it seem as if we were plotting behind your back, brother, but she'd expressed the opinion that I was in the right as well. She didn't care to go on the journey, and if it was necessary, she would see to the Lady Alyse." Dafydd has very few secrets from his brother, whether Saro knows it or not. "I did not press her to speak to you about it, however. It was of her own volition." Because he was even more surprised when she'd agreed with him than he was with his brother only moments ago.
He whistles softly, shaking his head as he pulls his hands behind his back, looping his fingers, the smile still playing. It's not gloating, certainly— he's just pleased. "I don't envy either one of those conversations, brother. Though, I have to say, family life has honed your diplomatic skills. I am content with my life exactly where I am."
"Somehow, I'm not surprised," comes the level reply, the smile still holding upon Saro's lips. "She actually broached the subject with me last evening, just before I was about to broach it with her. She's not pleased that we ride from Tall Oaks once again, but she understands the necesssity and the danger that could potentially be had." Hands come to slip beneath his cloak, no doubt to clasp together against the small of his back. "She's been like a mother to Alyse since her own passed away. She knows how to handle her." Letting his eyes shift in the direction of the doorway, he then looks back towards Dafydd. "The one with Damara was easy going. The one with Alyse .. will not be, but such is how things go." There's a pause and then a slight chuckle. "You really should think of marrying, brother. It would do you well."
So it was a matter of who brought it up first? That puts Dafydd's smile a little brighter, that chuckle sounding once again. He can see in his mind's eye the jockeying..
"No, I wouldn't imagine she would be.. but again, we found ourselves in agreement that there has to be more. I can't see the young Ser keeping his counsel on such an important matter, so questions pop up. Who has he spoken to? What have been their reactions? Has he enlisted aid from another quarter? Are there those who are actively working against him that he knows about?" He shakes his head, "And the questions can go on.. and on." A nod comes, a decisive gesture. "While it's not agreeable, it is necessary. And then track it back."
As Saro's gaze shifts towards the door as if waiting for something or someone, his brothers, too, moves.. and finding nothing, brings his attention back to his brother, though now he begins to pace slightly. Not far off, but it's movement. "Of all the skills Mistress Damara, her ability with the hawks is virtually unsurpassed.. and her way with the young Lady Alyce is even more remarkable. I applaud her skills."
Even the thought of taking a wife causes Dafydd to look towards that door once more. "I can think of none that could begin to warm my hearth, brother, though there are plenty with the skills to warm my bed. And that, I like to think, is enough."
To Dafydd's first, Sarojyn is giving a nod of his head and a simple word, "Exactly." Then, he's giving a soft chuckle, one that lasts a touch longer then the last as he nods his head once more, "Hawking is strong in her blood. It's why her family has held the position for as long as they have and why father trusted her father enough to take with him." Pause. "Not to mention, she's more skilled with a bow then a fair number of our archers. At times, she shoots truer then I."
There's a pause then and when Sarojyn continues, it's with a hint of a humor and a lifted hand to settle upon his brothers shoulder. "One day, brother, the whores are going to be the death of you. Plus, you should be running out of a new ones, for it's not like we have an ample selection within our woods." Pause. Loft of a brow. "Or have a couple caught your fancy enough to be .. regulars?"
Dafydd chuckles and shakes his head, his gaze moving to the floor for a brief second, the smile remaining behind. "Brother," he begins, the fair amusement easily heard in his tones, "it's true there are no new ones. Our woods are locked tightly, though I did have the good luck to be in the Roost this past week.. and now that we've returned, they are vying for position, each one imagining what they must do to out…" perform.. "…wit their perceived rivals." The smile broadens to a grin, and he steps in, his hand coming to rest on his brother's arm, and his voice lowers. "You really should see. The stories they tell of what they've heard.. and what they'd do, now that we think them complacent?" Of course he had a hand in that..
"As for them being the death of me? I would die a million times if that were the case." Well, not a million..
"If we don't have a great deal more in preparations, come with me to the tavern. Just for a couple of hours."
Lifting a hand to his face, Sarojyn can't help but literally facepalm as a soft laugh warms against his palm. Then, when the hand begins to fall away and his eyes return to his brother, he's giving a quick shake of his head before offering, "I will leave them all to you, my brother. I'm afraid I don't quite share your love for them, in that particular fashion." That said, he can't help but offer a quirk of his lips to a grin. The mention of the tavern has him pausing and then, with a nod of his head and a lift of his hand towards the door, he's saying, "There is nothing let to do. So, let us partake in the lull before we leave."