|Haystacks and Harpies|
|Summary:||Tyroan and Perrin finally get a chance to talk about politics.|
|Related Logs:||Tordane Tea|
|Stone Walk, Tordane Tower|
|Set at a slight incline, the stone pathway leads up a slight rise northeast out of the town square towards the single tower of House Tordane. Grass grows thick and plush along the side though it is well maintained. Private shops and stables are located up closer to the manor with the family's private stables attached directly to the exterior wall of the small castle.|
|9 January, 290|
Tyroan has been locked up in Tordane Tower for much of his time at Stonebridge, but he makes a little bit of time each day to get his maile and coat-of-plates on and beat his squire around the training grounds. Today, he's put aside his shield and helm, and had the youngster gather up a pair of blunted two-handed swords. The Boothleather Harpy has worked up a good sweat, his bald pate shining in the late afternoon sun as he demonstrates an overhead parry with the heavy weapon, "Get your godsdamned arms out to your left. Drop the fucking tip, slide out the the other fucking side. It's not stitching up a fucking stomach-pocket. It's just moving your fucking arms and your godsdamned body." Sure, he's cursing a lot, but he's not doing it with any particular venom. And it seems to be working, at least somewhat. When the aging Steward brings a slow, two-handed hammerblow of an overhand sweep down at his squire, the youth shifts his hands to one side, catches the strike, and lets it slide off as he skips out in the other direction.
With his own armor on, the small bits of black horse hair clinging to his Haigh surcoat, Perrin makes his way towards the tower. Seemingly lost in thought, his brows knitted up as they are want to do at such times, he would have missed the sparring had it not been for the colorful instructions given to the squire. Looking over he spots the pair and a slight smile comes as he alters his path towards the two. He crosses his arms over his chest and watches. Just in time to see the squire dodge the blow. "Not bad," he comments "but what would have happened had it been in full battle speed?" He gives the squire a wink before turning to Tyroan and dips his head "Ser."
Tyroan glances up at the interjection, and his squire — scamp that he is — tries to stab at Tyroan's stomach with the dulled point of his practice blade. Tyroan guffaws, choking up on his sword, he bats aside the thrust between crossguard and his grip halfway up the blade, "HAH! Cheeky little bastard!" Dropping the tip of his practice blade to the dust of the training yard, he swats the back of the squire's head with a newly-freed hand, then looks over to the newly-arrived knight, "If it'd been at full fucking battle speed, Ser Perrin, I'd've smashed his blade into his own fucking shoulder." Snorting with amusement, he adds, "Then again, it's not his fucking fault he's thirteen."
Perrin can't stop himself laughing as the Squire attempts to take advantage of the distraction and the results of it. "Well done lad. Get your opponent distracted, take advantage." His eyes dance from Squire to Tyroan. Still with a grin he nods "Might have lost a head as well, Ser.
Tyroan nods his head at Perrin's response, flipping his grip on the hilt of his practice blade, then tosses the heavy tool to his squire, who bobbles it and his own blade and just barely manages to not drop them both. "We're fucking done for now, boy." Plucking up the bottom of his tabard to mop at the sweat on his face and scalp, he adds, "Might have. How're you enjoying Stonebridge? Getting in enough training?"
Now that everyone seems to be done fighting, well sparring, Perrin drops his hands and moves a bit closer. He shrugs his shoulders a bit "Can one every really have enough training, Ser?" He asks before looking around "Stonebridge is interesting. Hard working folks here. Been out to some of the small villages as well." He turns his eyes to Tyroan "Everyone takes pride in their lands. Rebuilding and what not. It's good to see."
Tyroan drops his now-sweat-stained tabard, knuckling at his back through the coat of plates beneath, "I don't know about you young sons-of-bitches, but when you get to be my fucking age, yeah, you can have enough training. Too much, too." He nods at the last point, "The levy system my nephew Ser Rygar brought up from the Mire's been good for that. You march a man in formation, you give him a real fucking sense of identity. Do it often enough, it sticks." A dry smile splits his weathered face, "One of the few things any of my nephews did here that wasn't fucking idiocy."
With a hint of a chuckle "Come now, Ser Tyroan. You may fool those kids about but to me I would think you a formidable foe. Even at your," Perrin grins openly "older age." He listens a bit to the methods used here "And being right here in the crossroads of everywhere a good defense is essential." He doesn't comment on the nephews part though. "I haven't had the pleasure of meeting many of your kin. Not formally that is. They leave you pretty much to do with Stonebridge as you see fit?"
Tyroan snorts, "You can fucking say it, 'even if I'm fucking ancient as all fuck.'" Not that the other knight would put it that way. He nods slowly at the question, "I'm the Steward of Stonebridge, Ser Perrin, in the name of Lady Isolde Nayland, Lady of Stonebridge." That smirk returns, "And I get to talk to her oh-so-fucking-often, too." Some sarcasm there. Just a little. Maybe a lot. Either way, he's making it clear that he's in charge. Putting his hands on his hips, he adds, "You're not just down here because you enjoy my niece's company, Ser Perrin." Despite the knights, squires, pages, and men-at-arms sparsely populating the training group, he continues without any slowing, "What is it House Haigh wants from Stonebridge?"
Perrin dips his head as Tyroan makes it clear who runs Stonebridge though a smile is given as the sarcasm is caught. "It must be hard all the same. Everyone wanting a piece of Stonebridge. Who do you trust and how do you know you can trust them, eh?" The smile never fades as the question is put straight forward. "I would say, Ser, we want your trust. Your trust in us so that we can open up trade directly with you and the folks here." He lets the words settle, watching the reaction of Tyroan. "We want to cut out the middle man and come directly to you. Truth of the matter, it would bring more profits to us, though the roads are a bit longer to bring the goods and so the difficulties and hazards increase. But it would also bring more profits to you. You don't have to negotiate with many, just us." Then he tilts his head "And I do like spending time with your niece as well. That is also the truth of the matter too."
Tyroan waves that off, "I trust my family to do exactly what I know they'll do." Shrugging his shoulders with a shift of stiff leather and plates, he responds directly, "Shouldn't've marched on the town then." At least he's being straight and honest. "From what I've seen of the fucking ledgers, there's still some trade between the Haystacks and Stonebridge." He gives a half-shrug, "Most've it goes through Heronhurst, but I don't know that there's much we can fucking do about that. You have some ideas?"
His expression never changes, not one bit. "The past is the past, Ser. I don't dwell on it. Can't change it but I can move forward," Perrin responds to the marching on Stonebridge. "There is some that still trickles from us to you through Heronhurst. I," his eyes wrinkle up a bit "don't like trickles." He thinks a moment "We just bypass Heronhurst. We open the roads so that we bring our good straight to you. If the Terricks don't like it then Father can deal with that. My position is to do what ever it takes, with in reason, to bring our goods right to your door steps. Put it straight away on the ships or transfer it to other wagons to be sent along it's way. Then those folks that want the goods come to you to negotiate the best deal they can."
Tyroan nods at the response, "And when you get to be fucking ancient as all fuck, you've got a lot of past. Some of the younger sons-of-bitches in Stonebridge don't have a lot of memory to help them fucking forget." He frowns at the thoughts, nodding slowly, "Building a new road… and a new fucking ferry system or something across the fucking Green Fork…" Shaking his head slowly, he runs a hand over his bald scalp, "That's fucking expensive. Always good to have more trade routes open. But Stonebridge can't afford it." Many men wouldn't be willing to admit that, but Tyroan doesn't even hesitate.
Perrin only chuckles "And then there are some of us in between that have the memories and wish to not have them." His smile slips a bit as he nods "It will be expensive. A cost that I am not sure my Father will appreciate. That is unless for the longer term the profits from our trade with you offset that cost. Though the timber that would have to be cut can also be used where needed and sold as lumber too. If there were places to cut it up that way." He pauses just a moment "You don't happen to have a saw mill here do you?" If there was one Perrin would have seen it in his daily rides through out the country sides. But he won't let on if he had. "So we agree that to bring our goods to you will be costly at first. Very costly. I am sure that a favorable deal could be worked out between Broadmoor and Stonebridge if we were to absorb that cost, yes?"
Tyroan shakes his head at the question, "No sawmill. They're around the Cape though." Still frowning slightly, he responds to the rest, "You can be godsdamned sure that if you lot could build the fucking infrastructure, we'd be in favor of more trade." Scowling hard, thinking hard, he adds, "Lord Frey might not like it. I'm sure he enjoys the fucking tariffs coming through The Twins. Might have to promise him a cut."
"of course we would include the Frey's. I woudn't think otherwise. But two strong allies can only serve them better, yes?" Perrin thinks a moment before leveling his eyes once again "I know I would rather have a strong allie and weaker foes than the other way around." He smiles that half smile of his "Ser Tyroan, I offer you what my father has instructed me to. And since we are being so straight forward he swore he would not pay more than any others. That was the only condition he gave me. We meet those conditions of his I think we can come to terms between the Naylands of Stonebridge and the Haystacks of Broadmoor. Already our houses are soon to be linked by marraige. While this is good, even stronger ties can come to be. True allies we can become. YOu would be able to count on our aid should you ever need it. That is my promise to you." There comes another pause before he continues "I shall let you think of it, Ser. Speak to whom ever you trust in consul. I shall remain in Stonebridge, if you allow it, and wait your thoughts or other questions. Just know I have spoken truthfully and straight forward." He then dips his head again, repsectfully.
Tyroan nods his head again at the mention of becoming closer allies, "We might have to boost fucking tariffs in general if anything unexpected blows up, but I can give you a fucking promise right now — if all the tariffs go up, yours won't go up more than anyone else's. If no other tariffs go up, yours won't either." He shrugs roughly, "I can't promise anything more than that. But I appreciate your honesty." He raises his eyes to meet the gaze of the other man, "It's good talking to someone who doesn't fuck around. I may think your father's a rich old fuck — and don't we all wish we were also — but you're welcome to stay in Stonebridge as long as you want, Ser Perrin." And he holds out his gnarled right hand.
"I thank you for your compliment, Ser," Perrin says "True allies should know where each stands. I shall send your promise to my father. But for me a man's word, your word, is good enough for me." He accepts the hand and grasps it firmly "And one day we will have to show these young'ns how real sparing is done," he says then chuckles "Good day, Ser. I shall be at your call should you have any questions or concerns."