|Summary:||Justin, Catryn and Gerry at the Inn; talkin' permits, houses and charters.|
|Related Logs:||Lookin' for a House|
|The Rockcliff Inn is one of the better inns within the town and it shows with the well-lit interior and the relative cleanliness to the other locations in Terrick's Roost. The tables are polished with oils and the floor regularly swept. A set of booths towards a darker rear of the Inn's bottom floor, just beneath the staircase, are where whores generally socialize and eye prospects from when not waiting tables. Signs over the undersized bar area advertise prices for ales and wines as well as several different choices of food to be served at the small eating area by the bar or in the main open area in its comfortable seating. A door behind the bar leads to the kitchen and cellar while another near the staircase leads to a private room that would appear to be off-limits to the 'wait staff' except for food and drink service.|
|Aug 22, 289|
Once they arrive outside, Justin helps Catryn down from his horse and secures the grey at the water trough. He steps on up onto the inn's porch, spur rawls to jingle faintly with his bootsteps as he opens the door to let them in. "Tomorrow perhaps I can show you more locations. You need not decide upon the first without seeing the other choices, which may suit you better."
"Were there any that were closer to the cliffs, or settled so in the ground as that one was?" Catryn inquires, offering a little smile when he holds open the door. A rare change, for the number of folks who tend to let the doors hit her in the -face- when she trails behind.
Justin remembers his knightly manners and holds the door for her, "That one is very close to the cliffs. Gerry'll need watch his step if he's laid into drink, even in daylight." Amused, he lets the door go once she's entered and Justin tugs off his gloves, "Some are fairly close. Most are that were build with stone because no one cares to haul it far unless there is need enough. But the other places are in rougher shape. Some are partly dug outs like that, being easier to build, cooler in summer and warmer in winter. Safer when the winds blow in. A few more inland though have better earth for planting if you wish for a garden. A good storm will bring in salt with the rain and it makes it hard going to grow anything by the sea." Justin looks then to see if Gerry is here, since the man is his reason for coming to the inn.
Gerry was tucked into the corner that had become his favorite spot, an ale in his hand and a pitcher of more next to him. He was sprawled in relaxed comfort as he drank, rolling between his fingers a lovely hair pin, a beautiful bit of metalwork that just needed a little oil and polish to be as good as new. Quality work, of the kind that suggested it should have belonged to a noblewoman. On impulse he pricked his finger with the sharp end, then instantly regretted doing so when blood oozed up to the surface in dark crimson.
"Whatcha think I plan on using tha stone for?" Cat inquired, humor in the tone. "Iffen the's no places closer'n that, then, I aint need te even look. That'un'll do." A firm little nod, committed now to the task of fixing it upright. "Whatda I need te do te make it ours?" The girl asked, looking up Justin even as he scans round for Gerry. So they both spot him at almost the same time and Cat takes off at a bounce headlong in his direction. "Guess what, guess what, guess what!"
The Terrick knight wanders over to the table where Gerry is seated. Justin opens his belt pouch but instead of coins, he draws out a bit of folded up parchment, which he drops onto the table, "There's your temporary hunting permit, Master Taken. You show that to Master Huntsman Kain and he'll set you up with areas you can hunt, your game limits, and a man to show you around the area and help you with how to set up your record keeping." As for Catryn's surprise, Justin's gaze slips to watching her bounce to Gerry but leaves her own news for her to share with her father.
Gerry looked up as Catry and Justin approved, sucking on the finger he'd just pricked. The hairpin was put aside. "How the hells should I know? Jus' feckin' tell me already, ye damn chit," he said with a roll of his eyes. "Besides," he added, pointing an accusatory finger in her direction, "iffen I actually guess an' get it right, ye'll jus' deflate like a sheep bladder ball, 'cause I'll have ruined yer feckin' gran' revelation." He snorted, thent raded his finger sucking for his tankard sucking, swallowing down a few mouthfuls of ale.
"Ser Sheriff," humble-as-you-please was his nod, if not his stare. "Good, good. Tha' sound blood well, then. I'll be makin' me way up te the Four Eagles an' have meself a talkin', then."
Catryn plucked up the hairpin, quick as you please with deft little fingers, while one hand bound her own tousled locks back and shoved it through into a tight little haphazard knot at the base of her spine. It really was nice for him to bring her a new present! But of course, Gerry /was/ right about just how she'd deflate. So Cat ignored his bitching, slipped round to squeeeeeeeze those skinny arms around his neck and then announced, "We found a house!"
Justin gives a negative movement of his head, "You won't be finding Master Kain up at the tower. He's around the Roost or out in the woods but if you ask around for him, he'll know you are looking for him and he'll find you." The Terrick doesn't move to take a seat, waiting for Catryn's news to be shared. Justin then adds low, "I'll make certain it's recorded. The land belongs to my father, but you may hold the abandoned goat herder's house as long as you pay your merchanting tithes, assuming my father nor my brother have some reason to overturn what I will record." Just so that they understand that Justin is far from being the final word on such matters.
Stepping past them, Justin almost puts out a hand to trail it over Catryn's shoulder… but no, he remembers and instead simply walks past the table to go over to the bar. He'll check for messages and get himself an ale while Catryn catches Gerry up on her happy news.
"Tha' ain't yers. I'm fixin' it up te be sold. Yer already gotten more'n yer feckin' share o' jewelery o' late," Gerry told her somewhat sternly, though the way she squeezed him tight did take some of the edge off his grumble. Some of it. "A house? I suppose'n I'll have me a look at it, then, an' see wha' kinda state it be in." Becaues ultimately it wasn't the girl's decision, even if he was playing along for the moment. He hmphed. Scratched his cheek and then looked thoughfully at Justin. "Tha' be fair enough, tho' I'll be wantin' a tradin' charter. Iffen I'm te pay as a roost man, I'd be wantin' the Roost's protection, too, as I move me goods 'round. Good Ser. It ain't as iffen ye ain't be needin' the merchantin' trade comin' in. I be thinkin' o' makin' 'nother circle, soon. Proper goods tailored te yer lands, those kinds a tools an' needs ye can't produce yerself, but be needin' te see the rebuilin' prop'r."
Casually he slung an arm around his daughter's waist, and dragged her down onto the bench next to him. Put a kiss on her cheek, and then offered her a taste from the tankard
Cat'd watched the Sheriff as he passed, a small thoughtful little smile at the corners of her lips; one that was cut short for the suddenness of her father's arm about her waist as he cut the look short and planted her down on the bench so that he was suddenly between them. The kiss to her cheek with the addition of the tankard, helped nurse the flash of annoyance that had threatened for the warning that she couldn't keep the hairpin. Even if she did grumble, "Well, it aint like I've got nothin' fer te wear in my hair, anyway." And she didn't. True in that. The merchandise was always well, for the custom, not for her. But there was no room for grumbling, not as they were talkin' business again. Besides, with Gerry lookin' towards Justin, no harm in havin' a look herself.
A tankard of ale and his few messages from the afternoon in hand, Justin wanders back to join them. He tastes his drink, first, "I don't expect setting you up for trade will be any problem though that may need Jacsen's or my father's signature. I'll find out. You'll have our protection as our citizens, though that doesn't extent to armed escorts unless you pay your own guards. We sometimes run wagons to Stonebridge or back under armed escort if things are bad enough, but we haven't the men to spare for doing it regularly." Justin considers Gerry before he adds, "We can see how well you do and what, if any trouble, you run into. But aye, we look after our own. It's good for both sides, as long as you don't provoke trouble."
He lifts a chin to Catryn, "If you don't care for the place I showed her today, there are others. It's small, cramped, but right above the cliffs. Defensible, has a low stone wall that built up more, could contain your mules. Some protection by the shoulder of the bluff from storms. A few places slightly more inland are more fertile, easier ground and roomier but they'll need more work."
"Ye can have a feckin' ribbon, lass, iffen yer feelin' like yer hair ain't doin' ye no good. But naught one o' 'em nicer ones." The cheap ones, then. That hairpin was too nice for the like of her, though, unless someone bought it for her. Which seemed to happen quite often these days. His fingers lifted up lazily stroke the back of her head, and down the lengthing fall of blond, gathering up some of the hair as if considering whether it really -did- need a ribbon.
"Tha' ain't the reason I be lookin' fer a charter. It be easier when passin' through other lords' lands, iffen ye got a piece o' paper with a seal on it, sayin' yer legitimate traders o' a lords' hold. Tha' be worth payin' a tithe fer. Otherwise yer always runnin' tha' risk tha' some feckin' cunt o' a lord's bailiff or somethin' gonna decide yer a thief or somethin', an' the goods be his te seize. Ain't happened te me yet, tho' once I had te feckin' pay a bloody bribe tall as a man, te avoid bein' robbed."
He snorted a little. "Wel, I like a bit o' a view, I do. Lookin' out atte the ocean, tha' be a nice thing."
The girl had little doubt, that when Gerry's hand pulled away, the pin would go with it; as
evidenced by the way the weight of her hair shifted in the wake of that coarse hand's passage. But she didn't complain. "I aint gonna ruin ye wares, Pa, promise. Ner take somethin' as we could sell." For all that she huffed about the reminder and proceeded to latch both those small hands onto the tankard to ensure that he couldn't in turn, take it too as she geared up for a debate about keepin' to the house she'd picked, even if it was hardly a house at all and more than a hole in the ground with a roof and a broken door. It would be her hole. That's what mattered. And they were still talking business. But it didn't mean she couldn't offer the nice sheriff a smile over the rim of her tankard.
Justin tries not to watch how Gerry plays with Catryn's hair. Hair he himself likes very much to sink his hands into. Yes, sip his ale as he watches them before he nods, "Aye, that I can understand. A letter is easy enough, but a charter … that covers a bit more. I'd be thinking my brother would want to wait and see how you do and then he'll want references before he goes to putting the seal to a charter. There are different levels to such things and no offense, but you are new among us and new at merchanting, so I know you haven't references for past trade much to offer, as yet. One thing at a time." He studies the man but his gaze goes back to meet Catryn's as she watches him in turn, over her drink.
Catryn was right in assuming that when his hand came back he'd taken the hair pin once more into his possession. Perhaps he could have let her have it for a while longer, but then.. "Ye've a way o' gettin' attached te things." No reason to make the break more cruel than it had to be, when the jewelry had to go. He gave her hair one last stroke, then settled his attentions back to Justin.
"Heh. Perhaps. But when I was dumped on Pyke, I'd a handful o' coin an' a bit o' loot. Next time I'm comin' in this direction, ye'll find me with a wagon an' several mules." He tapped his nose. "Aye, might be I'm new te bein' feckin' official like in the tradin' business, but I ain't new in sellin', or judgin' value."
His eyes slid in Catryn' direction. "Give me the feckin' tankard already."
A little purr rumbled forth for that last stroke; half lazy and content, half huff of complaint for the reminder. "Aye. An aint te be attachin' te somethin as we could sell. I'll do witout tha ribbon." And the pin. For all that…with the little sigh that followed, her hands rose up and touched on the pendant too, unclasping the bit of gilded glass from her neck and this too, was plunked down on the table before Gerry, with a little nudge that he should take it.
Though she was still listening to he conversation. "Can ask Nedra fer a recommendation iffen ye want, an Lord Wayland an Lady Jocelyn. But Pa's right. When we come back, it'll be wit more proper an set fer the purpose. Gods help us managin' all the mules." That was worthy of a groan. And a drink. So when the minx gave Gerry the tankard back, frothy amber glittering at the curve of her lips and against her chin…there might have been one teeny swallow left somewhere lurking there at the bottom; with her licking her lips like a cat who'd been given a fresh bowl of creme.
Justin takes another pull from his own ale, about half of it left. He sets the tankard down on the table and scoots it over for Catryn, "Finish that off, if you like. I need to get back to my work. A few things I need to check on and then I'll have my evening free to do what I like." If she follows his drift. A curt nod to Gerry, "Get your reccomendations but it's not in my hands to issue a charter. You'll have to approach my brother or father for it. It requires the use of the Seal to make it valid with other Houses."
"Naw," Gerry said as Catryn revealed that beautiful bit of myrish glass, a sunburst pendant that somehow managed to catch all the light in the room and reflect it back with a firey intensity. Worthy of lesser nobility, in truth, rather than a common girl. His fingertips stroked over the smooth surface, leaving small stains of fleshy oils. He frowned, tugging his shirt's sleeve down so he could rub it clean again. "Naw," repeated slowly. "I nearly got killed fer tha' bit o' jewelery, among other things." His mouth thinned, the shadow of a murderous frown stealing into his roguish features, and his eyes glittered with deathly malevolence. In that one moment, imagining Gerry slitting throats with a smile, wasn't very hard at all. Licking the blood off his fingers, too, for that matter. Not particularly gentle, not particularly peaceful, not particularly forgiving. At all.
"Yer keepin' it. Iffen livin' be worth one thing, it's seein' yer happy now'n again. When I can manage. So yer bloody well better put that feckin' thing back over yer head, 'fore I cuff yer."
He sniffed as he looked down into the near empty tankard. When he poured another with the pitcher, it ended up light and hollow, empty as a whore's heart. "Blasted," he said at his half empty tankard.
"A charter I'll be wantin', but in the mean time, a letter from the Sheriff o' the Roost, sayin' I'm an honest trader an' a resident o' the Roost, it'll be helpful fer me next run. Iffen it don't be too much te bother ye with."
Catryn beams up a bright smile at Justin, when he slides over and deposits that tankard in front of her, the girl's eyes glowing in quiet pleasure; though she's careful to make sure that her fingers don't touch upon his own when she reaches out to collect the tankard. "That's right nice o'ye, Sheriff," the girl replies sweetly humble. Before it rises up and she takes a small drink; offering him a wink over the rim that's almost half hidden, to show she got the message.
Though when the tankard lowers again, her focus has slid towards Gerry and a good measure of her glee has left for the dark nature of his words. "Aye." It's solemn then, that sound, with a hard frown for the memory. "I'll keep it then, an wear it always," she promised, reaching up to slip it once more round her scrawny little neck. It fits like a charm though, and her fingers brush against the pendant at the end with affection as she smiles, a hint of that joy returnin'. "No cuffin' necessary, Pa."
Justin smiles faintly at Catryn, "Well, enjoy your evening." His messages he hasn't even looked at yet, but he tucks them into his belt and moves to step on out of the inn. He'll not be going to his horse right off but down to the stables to check on the rumor of a new and unusual foal born.