| Idle Morning Rides |
| Summary: | Knights kill time hurrying up and waiting on Harlaw Isle. Past in Seagard, present in the Roost and future in Stonebridge are all passing topics of conversation. |
| Date: | 31/03/289 |
| Related Logs: | Harlaw logs in general. The Stonebridge saga is covered a bit at the end |
| Players: |
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| Harlaw Isle — Wilderness |
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| The labrynthine fortress of Grey Garden sprawls atop a bare, rocky hillock commanding the south-eastern quarter of Harlaw Isle. The countryside is largely bare, with thin soil over weather-worn rock. |
| Sat Mar 31, 289 |
Though the bulk of the army has moved into the Grey Garden proper, Jarod's still taking his rest in his tent - and spending what hours in he can - in the outer encampment. He's there as the morning dawns, already breakfasted and now in the makeshift paddock where the Terricks are keeping their horses. He leads his sturdy brown charger out of it by the reins, giving the beast an idle pat on the nose as he heads into the more central part of the camp. There's a spring in his step, though it seems less a product of enthusiasm than restlessness.
Kind of hard to be entirely enthusiastic in some ways. Keelin's been travelling between the inner camps and the outer, mostly because he's keeping an eye on Martyn, as well as on the rest of the fighting fit. With dawn arising, he's up himself, ready to head back into the thick of things. Breakfasted, armoured, and having already checked on Ser Martyn, he now is starting towards the inner edge of camp, to head in and see what fun has transpired while he was off shift.
Jarod is headed in the same general direction at Keelin, and he slows as he comes to pass the other knight. "Ser Dorsey. How's the morning find you? Figured I'd go have a ride out to the edge of our lines, see if the scouts saw anything interesting during the night." He adds with a half-smirk. "Doubt they did, but better than sitting about that pile of rock while the Freylings divide up the furniture."
Keelin pauses as he hears the steps coming up, glancing back and he smiles as he sees who is there. "Ser Jarod, well met," he greets. As Jarod speaks, he glances over towards the rocks in question and then at the horse that Jarod is leading. "Not a bad idea that, certainly better than hanging around doing nothing," he agrees. "And this morning finds me well, thanks. You? Apart from a little bit restless and maybe wishing there was some good clean fighting to be had. Or we could just go home. Are the Freys going to garrison the place?" he asks, curious to know if there's any word on that as yet.
"Just feel like a ride, really. Helps me get my head in order. I'm all right. But, aye, wish I had my feet back in the Riverlands. As for the Freys I don't think they're putting down roots, unless Lord Piper or the other high commanders of the army order us to. They are getting the lion's share of the conquerer's coin, though." Jarod squints at the Nayland banners which fly from the Grey Garden in the distance. "My squire compared it to a bear pissing to mark their territory. That's about right. Anyhow. How's Ser Martyn?"
Keelin glances up at the flags, recalling Kamron's idea and still thinking it sounds good, if only someone would actually give it a go. There's a thoughtful look on his face for a long moment as he looks to the banners. And then a glance back to Jarod. "Seems to me there has to be some banner that we could put up there to share the glory. Even if not a Mallister one so as not to stir up too much trouble." Yes, he is thinking about it, which is a sad reflection that the men here have too much time and not enough to do. "Ser Martyn is getting restless and tired of being unable to move too far. I doubt it will be much longer before he's out and about, even if he's not up to a fight." A pause, "Which is really why there's a guard on his door. It's not to keep folks out, but to make sure he doesn't get lost."
"Lord Rickart took the keep, without much blood shed for us, and his terms to the squids were fair," Jarod says, grudgingly but with a sort of respect in his tone for it. "Bet he figures he's earned a bit of pissing. Not really wrong. I'll not begrudge the Mire hags their honor if it gets us home quicker. Still. Won't mind looking in the opposite direction awhile this morn." As for the guard on Martyn, he nods in sudden understanding. "Aye. Good notion. That Ironborn lord near killed him, wouldn't do to push himself and finish the job for them."
Keelin nods to Jarod at that, a grim look on his face, for a moment. "That was my thought, and it seems I'm not the only one since nobody's countermanded the order." A shrug, and then he eyes the banners flying again. "It'd be figuring out which - wouldn't it be something to fly, wait, there was a keep that got razed, yes? I'm sure I heard that? A final touch for them, maybe?" He's not even sure who they'd be, but he doesn't much care. At this point, it's obvious he's not entirely serious, just considering ways to stir up a bit of talk without getting anyone in too much trouble. He turns back to Jarod and then shakes his head. "Not mine, unless it's a Mallister banner, and that I think would keep us here longer rather than get us home soon. And like you, I'd rather get home sooner." He pauses to look over Jarod's horse briefly, and then he says, "Far as the Mire hags go, s'pose they did at that." It's a thought, and he's not opposed to giving the credit where it's due. Mostly.
"Don't know what you're assigned to this morning, but I'd not mind some company," Jarod says, nudging at the reins of his horse. The charger paws the ground, but he seems less restless than his rider. "As for banners, the Naylands can have the Grey Garden. I'll concern myself with honors when we sail to the Pyke. There're some Greyjoy heads calling my sword."
Keelin laughs, and then he shrugs a bit. "Was going to go see if Ser Kamron needs some help. With Martyn injured, the two of us have been picking up the pieces, but I think he's probably got it covered. Want I should go get Tiny? It's probably better to scout in pairs, even if we don't expect trouble," he says, sounding almost serious. At least, he's serious about going along with Jarod, if not about what he's assigned for the day.
"Tiny?" Jarod chuckles. "Fearsome name for a warhorse. Aye, let's be off, then. Proper knights, spurs on, seeing to the countryside in a foreign, enemy land and all of that. Just like in the songs. Save minus glory and beautiful maidens, but we can make those parts up later."
"Nobody will ever know if we make it up, after all," Keelin says drily. He turns on his heel to go get his war horse. Who of course, is the opposite of his name. He returns quickly enough, having rousted out a squire to get the horse geared up, especially since they aren't so much use for a lot of the island action. As he returns, he adds, "Though really? We have to be proper knights? Are you sure? I'm thinking there's not so much fun in that proper bit."
"Well, we aren't lords, so I guess we can short the propriety," Jarod says with a grin as he mounts up. His own charger is a utilitarian sort of mount, though he's muscled in a way that suggests speed and durability, if one has an eye for horses. "Let's off!" And, once Keelin is mounted, he will ride. Setting a quick trot out of the camp, as if eager to get some distance quick.
Keelin mounts swiftly enough, having had lots of practice, and he's more than willing to head out as well, keeping pace with the other Knight. He waits a bit, until they're moving and once more getting used to being on horseback before he says, "Aye, Tiny. Because folks then expect him to match his name, and he doesn't." A bit of a shrug. "And it tickled my funny bone back a while ago. What about your warhorse then?"
"He's a big one, right enough," Jarod says, slowing a little to ride next to Keelin, though the pace he encourages is still brisk. He's shorter than the other knight, on the more medium-sized courser as he is. "Where'd you get him? I got my Symeon after I returned home from the Rebellion. From Lord Terrick's stock of horses, after I became a proper sworn to Lord Jerold. He's named for the bloke in the legend. Symeon Star-Eyes." He barks out a laugh. "I still had some delusions of knightly heroism left back then. Think I've about sanded those off myself, though."
Keelin chuckles at that. "From Seagard," he says. Which of course makes sense, given his allegiences. "So does the horse outdo the bloke in the legend?" he has to ask, curious to see what answer he'll get. "I think you might have missed sanding a spot or two, and that's not a bad thing, Ser Jarod. Nothing wrong with a little bit of heroism."
"Man needs his delusions in life," Jarod says with a snort. The question gets a shake of his head. "Hardly. He's a good courser, though. Never did me wrong. Better than the nag I rode when I was squiring. I think the damn thing was some sort of old cart horse the knight I was serving'd repurposed. Mean bastard. Bit me a few times. Got me through the Rebellion all right, though, so I hope he had a decent life back in Seagard after I was done with that." He stays within sight of the camp though he rides toward the outer edge of it, trotting more carefully as they get farther from it. The ground on Harlaw Isle is more treacherous for horses than the turf of the Riverlands.
"Some delusions work better than others," Keelin says. He considers the old nag that Jarod's left behind, and he nods. "Likely," he agrees to the notion. Though he too slows down, and his horse is built for endurance and fighting, but not speed so much. "If you had to do it again, would you do it the same?" he asks, glancing back to keep track of where they are at and where they are going. Heroism is one thing, alertness just the ticket for allowing the hero to survive the heroic act.
"Same name for my horse? Aye, suits him as well as any other, not too many letters to spell correct," Jarod replies, raising his chin to scan the countryside. It's the same dreary, rocky island they've been stuck on for weeks, stretched out empty before them, save the men in the picket spots that dot the outskirts of their line. Manned less than they were before the fall of the Grey Garden, and the relatively pacified state of the island achieved. More seriously he asks, "Which bit of it you asking on? The knighthood? The years since I got it? This campaign on the isles?"
Keelin slows his horse, as he considers the question he's asked and what he really means by it. "All of it, and none," he says with a bit of a shrug. "I guess - the knighthood. Does it mean what you thought it did?" He shrugs, and then adds, "It's funny. That sanding you were talking about, I think we all end up doing some over the years. But for some reason, this godsforsaken island has me asking questions that are far too serious. I think maybe it's the lack of good ale."
Jarod has to think a beat, before he answers that. "I've come to figure it's built up into more than it is, in truth." Another pause, and he explains some, "I mean, you figure it'll change you. Make men more honorable. Put you higher in the eyes of the world. Doesn't really, though, and most who wear it're just highborn sods who count on their gold and title to act as their honor. Does most places, too." He shrugs. "It's been a good lot for me, though, even if it's not a story. I was raised at the Roost, with my trueborn half-brothers and half-sister, which Lord Jerold didn't have to allow. It's given me a way to pay him back in some fashion, and it's as good a life as one who tries to make theirs with a sword can get. What of you?"
"Started out at Riverrun," Keelin says, with a hint of amusement. "My parents are still there, they are, though not so active as they used to be. Actually, my sister and brothers are also sworn to the Tully's." A bit of a shrug, as he then says, "But I managed to run afoul of a noble and ended up shipped out to Seagard. And there I've been loyal ever since. That would be when I ended up squired to Ser Greencloak, in fact." He looks around again, still keeping their supposed mission in mind. Not to mention their safety. "But the Mallisters have always done right by me, I've no complaints."
"Riverrun?" Jarod is curious. "Seems an exciting sort of place to grow up. More than the Roost, at least. Only been there once, when Lord Tully was hearing Ser Gedeon's claim to Stonebridge." He smirks. "Had a rather poor time at the place, truth be told, though I guess things went more our way than not in the end. Only saw a bit of the city, though. I figure it's a finer place if you've time to see it proper. Afoul?" More curious. He turns a little in the saddle, grin taking on a conspiratorial quirk. "What'd you do?"
Keelin thinks about that. "My father teaches sword," he starts, slowly. "And being his son, I rather picked it up fairly young. Ran across a pompous young Tully squire who thought he'd show off by beating on a commoner, just to show how tough he was. Only - I beat him instead." Keelin's a little bit sheepish as he admits that. "Didn't think back then to just throw the fight, and he pricked my temper he did. Alas it was in front of a lady he'd been hoping to bed, and she threw in with the winner for the night." Ahem. "Turns out he was in favour with the Lord Tully that week, and managed to get me kicked out, more or less."
"He a knight as well, your father?" Jarod asks Keelin. "Always a more interesting story, how those who weren't born lordlings come to it. I'd like as not have gotten the chance had Lord Jerold not been sire to me, bastard or no." He listens to the tale, smirk going wider, and finally laughing at the end. And nodding. "Sounds like it was worth it. At least, so long as the girl had nice tits." Man of priorities, he is.
"And a talented tongue," Keelin replies with a smirk of his own. "And aye, my father's also a knight. He'd been a hedge knight before he swore to the Tullys. I think that was when he wanted to marry and didn't figure a wife would like sleeping under hedges. But if he hadn't been, I don't imagine I'd have ended up squired to Ser Greencloak, but rather out on my ass in the street, and lucky if I wasn't naked to boot."
Jarod nods. "Completely worth it," he concludes, after the part about the girl and her talented tongue. More seriously, "Aye, you were lucky, I suppose. Nobles don't take kindly to embarrassment. Think they're more offended by wounds to their pride than ones that actually bloody them. Well, Seagard's not a bad place to end up if you've been tossed. Had some good years with the Mallisters when I was squiring there." His grin broadens again. "Learned a thing or two about girls' tongues on the waterfront, as well as how to handle a sword."
Okay, but who didn't? Keelin laughs, a knowing look on his face. "Aye, no doubt. I'm sure they'd find you handsome enough," he says. The horses by now are just walking slowly as the two knights get out of the camp a bit, patrolling the lines and checking to see if there's anything going on away from Grey Gardens. "But luck does seem to play into it, somewhere or other. S'almost the only thing that puts us here. In the middle of nowhere, a step below the nobles and a step above the rest. Or so they say, at least." He shrugs, glancing to check the sky if there's any sun to be seen this morning. "Guess that's why we can safely tell propriety to go fuck itself, and not get all offended if we get embarrassed."
"I even got one without paying now and then," Jarod says brightly, as to the water-front girls. "Met my first Westerlands girl there. Merchants daughter. Bit on the thin side and I'm not much on blondes, but she had qualities to make up for it. Minx, that girl."
"I even got one without paying now and then," Jarod says brightly, as to the water-front girls. "Met my first Westerlands girl there. Merchants daughter. Bit on the thin side and I'm not much on blondes, but she had qualities to make up for it. Minx, that girl." As for propriety, he shrugs. "Sometimes we can. That's the trick, you've got to act the part of a highborn sometimes if you're living among them, while showing them they're all above us. I don't fuck propriety much. On occasion, though, when it's worth it. Or just when it seems like too much fun to pass up." Chatter aside (and the bastard knight can chatter), his attention is on the countryside. They're trotting closer to one of the picket outposts now, where the men are standing guard. Also looking at the empty, barren rock that's been even quieter than it was during the siege, since the taking of the Garden by the Westeros army. *re*
With the morning mist hanging as it is, it the sun itself seems to be fucked to show it's face. Still, soon enough another rider can be seen. A tall and dark sight unto itself, upon the grey courser, the man rides coming from the still mist and gloom held wilderness along the outskirts. Helm tipped back on his head, the man himself doesn't seem to be alert for a confrontation. Instead he seems to just hold in the saddle.
As he becomes for visible and the other knights themselves become more visible, one hand raises up in a solitary salute. "Mornin' Sers." comes the accented and hoarse voice of Hollister Slane. After all there is no reason to have the sentries or in this case-knights get any further worked up. He's had that happen before on this campaign, given his own visage. Like a damned ironborn raider in the midsts. "I hope this weather find you well." clearly it doesn't find the Terrick sworn too well. But then, that scowl is usual.
Yup, the bastard knight can chatter, and Keelin usually is the quiet sort, though Jarod does seem to be bringing out the tales that Keelin can tell. At least some of them. He chuckles softly, but lets the topic drop at the sound of a horse coming along, and then the sight of the rider, distracted more than a little from the amusing chatter. "Morning," he calls out, in return, once the Terrick sworn shows up. "The weather is the same old thing. Almost enough to shrink our armour and leave us all weighted down like turtles. Any movement at all out there?" he asks.
"Ser Hollister! Morning!" Jarod calls, raising a hand to the older knight. Terrick-sworn as he is, he at least hasn't mistaken Slane for an Ironborn. "Just figured we'd ride out and have a look at the line. See if the scouts saw anything interesting in the early hours. Anything interesting?" He asks like he doubts it. Whatever existed of rebellion against the Crown on Harlaw Isle has been subdued in the past weeks. "Weather finds me rusting with these mists. Least we can see a bit of what's in front of our faces, unlike on the beach."
"I saw a dog taking a shit, Other than that I do not think there is anything interesting going on outside of here. I believe that this island's on it's knees." the taller and older knight replies. Turning the knight does expels some red sluice out to the ground, and away from his surcoat and armor. "Soon enough, I imagine we'll either be for home or for hell." Or pyke which ever comes first. Still Jarod is given a half grin. "Ser Rivers, always a pleasure to see you." One could easily imagine this campaign's done some good for Holly. After all, his hatred for the people over here is well known amongst the house he serves.
Jarod has soldiered through the campaign with more determination to get it done and get gone from the island than any thirst for vengeance. The Pyke is ahead, the Riverlands waiting at home. The bit about the dog gets a chuckle as he reins his horse in, to pause near where Hollister's keeping watch. "Surprised the creature didn't get shot, bored as some of the men are. That's good for us, though. Means they'll like as ship us out soon. Perhaps straight to the Pyke, perhaps back to the Riverlands for a stint, haven't told us yet. I'll let the Terrick men know soon as I do."
"I think he's been one the Groves grabbed up. Either way he seemed none to disturbed in his morning movements than I was." Hollister remarks with a faint chuckle before he's shifting in his saddle. "I trust you will Ser, and I don't think there are any in our ranks that are necessarily quarreling." Hollis reports before he's wiping at the stained beard on his chin. "As long as I get another crack at them before we return, I'll be happy asa hog in slop-Really Ser. Don't think I'll be happy till we've gotten them all to their knees." A brief pause and Hollister looks towards Keelin. "And How do your masters, Ser Keelin? I've heard the mumbles in camp regarding your lords..I do hope they aren't taking it to heart."
Keelin listens to the Terricks as they briefly discuss the situation. The dog gets a smile from him as well, though Ser Keelin of the Key stays quiet, at least until he's directly addressed at the moment. "I think they're keeping the source in mind," he says simply, "and paying the mumbles and such as much need as they see fit. Lord Martyn is healing well, and Ser Kamron is leading the men in the meantime. They've both got good heads on their shoulders." A pause. "Thankfully."
"Was just thinking, there are some Greyjoy heads on the Pyke my sword yearsn to meet," Jarod says to Hollister. Though he listens more seriously as the knight mentions the state of the men. "Good. That's good. The men've held up well throughout all this, to my mind. Lord Jerold'll be proud of our lot when he hears the news back home, I figure." He turns to Keelin as the man speaks of the Mallisters. "Glad Ser Kamron's still keeping his head up, after how the duel with the Harlaws went. He'll take some knocks from the Frey-sworn and their ilk, but fuck 'em, I figure. Saved his cousins life. If it'd been one of my brothers up there, not sure I'd have done any different."
Hollister sends a shrug. "It's war." And leaves it at that as to the goings on of the duel or whatever happened. Still he nods to Ser Keelin. "That's fine and good. One good thing about moving over to Pyke is that we'll be under Lord Blackwood and thus this little competition between Freys and Mallisters will cease for the time being. Pride an all will be fixed as we fuck over Pyke." An optimistic view from the tall knight. "Or we'll all kill each other on the boats before we make it over." and grim sweeps in like that. Still Ser Slane offers a grin to both the men as he continues to fuss with the red leaf in his teeth. "I reckon, Ser Jarod, that there are many back from the Roost, that'd love to bleed a few of the Greyjoys dry. Seagard too."
"Oh, that's for sure," Keelin agrees easily. His horse is solid and even tempered, the big thing standing there, without fussing even if there's no grazing. Keelin himself just shrugs now, willing to let the topic drop as it seems to want to do. "Bet we don't run into any more sea dragons though." That's more than a little satisfied, given the little trick the ironborn threw at the landing party. "And ironborn blood's red enough, whichever family or island it's on. I wouldn't mind a chance at a few heads myself."
"I reckon so," Jarod agrees, though his tone is more low and grim that particularly fierce. He cranes his neck to look back at the now-more-distant Grey Garden. Nayland banners flapping in the breeze. Not that the Terrick bastard seems much put-out by that. "Nobles don't lose their prize easy. I think some from the more inland lords just look at this as a way to win some glory. They never had the reavers on their doorsteps, not like the coasts. But, aye. Any Riverman, even Freys, are ten times a squid. We'll see the task done, at the Pyke more than any of the other isles. I wonder if Good King Robert himself'll join the fighting on the Greyjoy isle. He was a fearsome force during the Rebellion, cut through the Royalists like fury itself."
"Can't imagine our good king wanting to sit at home, while everyone goes to war." Hollister adds. "I saw how he was at the Trident. He was a bloodier than a badger defending it's hole. You see that sort of love for the fight in a man-you know he won't pull from it." And there comes the cracked leather gauntlet up as he's pulling the nigh depleted wad from his lip and tossing it to the poor earth below. "Either way, our hosts adding to those on Pyke should hasten the end of the War. No matter how many good fighters you have, you will surely succumb to the numbers."
Keelin's gaze follows the movement, though he then looks out to the lines again reflexively. "Seems like we might well just head back to camp," he says after a moment. "And start sharpening our swords for the next battle, which hopefully won't be too long from now." He actually does take a moment to wheel Tiny around, before he glances at the other two. "I should likely go find Ser Kamron and make sure he's not needing me for anything."
"Warrior willing, it'll be so soon enough," Jarod says with a nod to Hollister. He inclines his head to Keelin. "Thanks for coming, Ser. You owe me more stories about the Seagard waterfront one day." He winks. "I should be getting back soon myself, though I think I'll linger on the outskirts a bit longer. Feels good to stretch my legs a bit. Well, ahorse, as it were. Can't stand being inside the keep. Thing's not so much a castle as great piles of rock stacked up like a maze. I'll be glad to be gone from it, wherever we go." At mention of Robert at the Trident, he grins. "Robert Baratheon was a force as a general. Felt like we could do anything, when he set us to doing it. Aye. They'll drown in our Rivers in the end, along with the rest of what the Seven Kingdoms sends to subdue the Pyke. Doubt any Westeros man will want to miss their chance at it."
"It makes you forget that you're about to shit yourself when you go into a fight." Hollister remarks with a grin. "He was a good general. And I imagine if he's anywhere he'd be on Pyke. It'd show the Ironblood that he takes it seriously at least." But, who knows who is leading that army, could be one of his brothers for all he knows. "Give me a chance to breach whatever hold they have there, and I promise you I will cut my way through everyone amassed." A bold statement there, but then he's nodding all the same, while his hands grip down onto the reins. "I hope also though there's better ground on Pyke. Our horse has been greatly limited given how shitty this island is. I almost rode into a damned hole upon doing my first bit of outrider duty."
Jarod dismounts when Ser Keelin heads back to camp, for his part. So he's no longer looking down at Hollister from horseback. Apparently he means to hang about awhile longer. "Ah. You can ride on this ground but you've got to be careful at it. Wouldn't trust a cavalry charge, not unless I didn't have much care for the legs of my charger." He pats the horse's nose, as if to assure him he won't casually break the courser's neck. "We'll see how it plays. The Ironborn aren't much on fighting on horseback. Perhaps because their country isn't good for it. Don't mind fighting on foot, myself, though it gets bloodier when you're in the thick of it like that. Well, it'll be so for them more than for us, Warrior willing."
"I'm better on foot to be said, Ser." Hollister states as he looks on to where Keelin has headed off for. And only then does the tall knight slide down from his courser, and grab a hold of the reins. There's a jerk of the horse towards the camp, even as it seems Holly is content to linger for a moment more. "Well, I hope it doesn't end as Seagard did for them. Imagine throwing all our might at Pyke and then being tossed back into the sea." A shake of his head. "Warrior willing indeed."
"Not sure what they were expecting from their attempt to take the mainland. That we'd yield and bend the knee to King Greyjoy?" Jarod snorts. "Fuck that. Maybe just that they'd come so fast and hard that the 'soft' Riverlands'd fall straight to them. Proved them wrong." Though he still sounds more grim than proud. "And we'll make the Pyke regret it. You finished on watch, then?" He nods to Hollister's courser. "I'll head back to camp with you if you're going that direction. Shouldn't be out too long. Just needed to…run for awhile, y'know?" He looks for a moment like he's searching for a better way to put it, but doesn't quite find it.
"I am. I was at the forward-well rear now line and just came trotting back to break my fast." Hollis admits, before he is nodding on back to camp. "And I do understand. I can hold for you, if you need a bit longer, Ser." A half smile-which is the best one will get from Ser Hollister is passed along, before he is reaching to rest a hand on the hilt of his sword. "Did you have something you needed to think on Jarod?" And now the polite pretenses gone. one man to another seems to settle in. "You know, I can help the best I can, if you like?"
"Nah, I shouldn't flee for too long," Jarod says, mounting up again. He does seem to relish being on horseback. "Always seems like there's so much to see to, with supplies and drills and such, even entrenched here as we are. Never really thought on it when I was just another knight in Lord Jerold's service." The death of Lady Evangeline kept the Lord of the Roost in Westeros and put the bastard knight in charge of things, for better or worse. "Aye, let's be off." As to that last question, he considers it. "Been thinking on a good man things these days. No short of those, either. Are the men doing all right? I mean, there anything they need, terms of supplies or the like. The stores in the Gardens're pretty thin, but might be able to get a bit from them before we all move out."
"We're for the most part fine. I think some of them miss their sweethearts and wives. Others are just ready to be done with war. " Hollister adds with a faint shrug as he walks his horse along with Jarod's. "The supplies gotten will be enough to spark some smiles, but I don't think it will matter too much." At least the older knight is being honest as opposed to trying to prop the young half eagle up. "You've done good leading the men. They trust you. You ask, and they will follow." A tug of the reins get's his horse to step through a small tricky patch of ground, before the knight is looking back up towards Jarod. "What else, is on your mind?"
It's another mist-covered, dreary morning on Harlaw Isle, the clouds in the air suggesting the mist may turn to rain shortly. Jarod fled camp after breakfast this morning to 'check the lines.' And do a bit of riding while he had a free moment. He's headed back now, though, with Hollister. Slowly, as if to savor the moments of relative freedom. He nods some at the older knight's words, seeming gladdened by them. "Good. They've held together solid. Good soldiering, even after all that was done to the Roost. I meant it when I said you lot're doing Lord Jerold proud. Just wish he was here to see it." As for the last question. He frowns. "Had a meet with Lord Rickart yesterday, to talk over us getting our share of the conquerer's coin. Still trying to puzzle out how it went. Dealing with Naylands always makes me suspect there's a trick to every other word I can't quite see."
The ability to ride again without worrying about being jumped by Harlaws is a wonderful thing, and Kam is leading his grizzled gray horse out of the city for a morning ride. He's out of his armor now, although still wearing the leather arming jacket that is worn beneath his steel. The ties dangle from his shoulders and hips, but he doesn't seem to notice them. Spotting Jarod and a rather huge knight returning, he raises the hand not currently busy with his steed's lead.
That brings a bit of a snort from Hollister as he continues to trod along. "I suspect everyone uses a trick where money is concerned, Jarod. Specially when you are trying to divy up amongst the Houses during a war. Oh, I bet the coin or such will favor the holder, just as history shall ever favor the victor." And he nods. "Well, your father would be proud, even if he might not say it. Don't worry. As for Lord Nayland.." And Hollister does allow a bit of a sigh. "He led us well, but I don't think we will see much for our part in things."
"Say what you will about Rickart Nayland, but he's an able battle-commander," Jarod says, a grudging sort of respect for the Lord of the Mire in his tone. "I got what I wanted out of him, actually. What I asked for, at least, though he bargained for it. That's the barb, I'm looking for the trick in the offer. Don't want to trade away something the Naylands can use against my family without realizing it." As for his father being proud of him, that makes him grin, perhaps in spite of himself. He has a boyish sort of grin, though after the last months of war it no longer makes him look quite so young as it once did. As he's spotted, he spots Kamron as well, raising a hand to wave to the other knight. "Ser Mallister! Had to get out of the city too, eh? Even if we do hold it, still don't like the feel within the Garden walls."
Kamron drifts to a stop, his horse butting a shoulder against his and rocking him forward. He shoves back, doing absolutely nothing to the stolid horse's stance, "Watch it, Three." Looking back up to the mounted knights and slinging an elbow onto the side of his saddle, he nods at Jarod, "Like King's Landing after the Sack." He pauses for a moment, and then adds, "Without the burning and the reprisals and the cowering smallfolk. The reavers don't do cowering very well." He gives another nod to the big man unknown to him and introducing himself, "Ser Kamron Mallister."
There's a shrug there from Hollister. "I doubt, you'll be able to know, Jarod. Unless you know the exact figure of coin we were to recieve, and for our needs if the cost was worth it." But, then again Hollister isn't defending Rickart Nayland. "Most likely, we got cheated, but I don't think it'd ruin your father's honor. Specially when we return with building supplies." And there's a look given as Kamron rides up. One hand is raised before he is nodding on towards the camp. " I will diverge with you here Ser." quick to fall into formality as a noble arrives. "Get a page to help clean down the horse.." A nod is given to Kamron. "Ser Hollister Slane." replied evenly. "If you both shall excuse me.."
"We're getting shorted on the coin, anyhow, as it's being divided up mostly to those sworn to the Freys," Jarod says to Hollister. "I did get an offer of supplies for rebuilding, though, as well as food from the stores and assistance in transporting it. Seems…well, if we're getting cheated, there are worse ways to be cheated, I suppose. I'll see you later, Hollister." A pause and he adds, "Thanks" to the older knight. For what, it's not quite clear, but he seems to mean it. Kamron's comment about King's Landing draws a curious look. But something else does as well, and seems to take precedence. "Three?"
Kamron frowns at the talk of coin, then adds, "Seagard will do everything we can for the Roost as well, of course. Even if we have our own rebuilding to do. 'Odd' that the Freys are getting the majority of the coin, when their lands suffered next to no damage." Shaking off the thought, he grins over at Slane, "Don't feel like you need to go on my account, Ser Hollister. But enjoy yourself if you need to." Back to Jarod's question, he jerks a thumb at his horse, "Three. I lost two in one battle, and just didn't feel the need to come up with a real name for the second one… or this one. Although he's lasted a good long while."
Jarod shrugs, as to the coin. And he has to do more grudging admission, "Our force isn't one of the larger ones in the host. Hit hard as we were by the Siege of the Roost. Besides." He smirks. "Would Seagard give the Freys the best pickings, if Ser Martyn'd still been at the head of the army when we took this place?" He shrugs. "I'd wanted supplies for rebuilding, which I got when I bargained for them. That's what's got me puzzled, really. Doesn't seem like too poor a bargain the Mire Lord gave me, so I'm searching for the trap in it. Two in one battle?" That last a comment on the horse. And accompanied by a low whistle. "That back during the Rebellion? My horse's never fallen in battle, thank the Seven. Nasty blow for a knight, in arms and the coin it costs to replace them."
Kamron shakes his head, "Not the best, but fair. If they were the ones who got burned out of house and home, I'd like to think that we'd give them the lion's share of the coin." Probably self-delusion, but he sounds like he believes that. There's a chuckle of laughter, and he adds, "Although I suppose that'd be whatever share was going back to the Lannisters." Moving on to the mention of the horses, he nods, "Glory died at the Trident. Picked up some dead knight's horse on the battlefield—called him Two, 'cause I didn't have time to get acquainted. Three's another dead knight's horse. Needed a new one so I could keep on to King's Landing."
Jarod smirks at that. "I do wonder if the King's sent the Westermen against any of the other islands. Their coasts were hit as hard as ours were, and Tywin Lannister is the sort who strikes me as one who'd be eager for vengeance. Bet them stripped any castles they took down to the floorboards." Speaking of the Lannisters. "I missed King's Landing. Went back to the Roost after the Trident. They needed men to ride back with our dead, took up the chance to go home." He doesn't sound like he much regrets it.
Kamron nods his head slowly, "Fucking Lions and Freys." The words are quiet, just in case someone might be riding past. Pays to be at least a -little- careful. "King's Landing, Storm's End… I even ended up on Dragonstone, which was a stone cold bitch. Just looking for another adventure." Leaning back against Three's shoulder, he grins, "Kinda missed it, since then, truth be told." A grimace paints his features, "Okay, not King's Landing, that was real ugly. But the rest of it. The Bells, the Trident, Dragonstone, even Storm's End—it was something to see all those Reach Knights. They're as pretty as a gold-dragon-whore, most of them." There's another snort of laughter, "Speaking of gold dragons though. Floorboards are valuable. I bet the Lannisters leave nothin' but empty patches of land where there was anything to see beforehand."
Jarod and Kamron are speaking a short distance outside of the Grey Gardens in the morning mist, the Tarrick-sworn knight ahorse and the Mallister knight standing alongside his own steed.
"I heard the stories from King's Landing," Jarod says, tone somber as he speaks on it. "What was it like, seeing it done like that? After the Trident, I think we all pictured Robert Baratheon riding into King's Landing and storming the city, slaying Aerys in the Red Keep as both held sword-in-hand, like he'd done with Prince Rhaegar. Didn't know what to make of what we heard after it was done, of the Kingslayer and all." As for missing it, he shrugs. "Never thought on it like that. This feels different, though. Parts of the rebellion were ugly but…this seems different. Or maybe I was just younger then, too young to see it. What do you think now, that war's come to the Riverlands again?
And there's another person out riding at the moment. Having healed up enough to be allowed to be out and about again, Martyn has decided to take his horse out for some exercise now. He's approaching where Jarod and Kamron are, stretching out a bit from his position on the horseback. Still having a bit of a distance to go before he reaches the duo though.
Kamron shrugs slightly, "Well… King Robert's never been one for a sword to start with." He gives the mounted man a smile with the words, but it's thin and quick to melt away into a look of disgust. "The Lannisters did most of it. The Mad King opened the gates for them, thinking they were allies, and…" For a moment, it looks like the Mallister might spit in disgust, but he refrains, "…they decided to prove to King Robert that they weren't loyal to the Targaryens. I was riding with Lord Stark's men by then, along with the rest of the Riverlanders who went south. We showed up after the Sack had already started. Some people threw in…" Kam shudders a touch, "…some of us stuck to guarding important parts of the city. I was at the Mud Gate most of the Sack." He gestures slightly toward the Grey Gardens, "Sieges are always different from real fights. At least from what I've seen. I don't much like seeing war -in- the Riverlands, but seeing war again… it's kind of nice."
"I just keep thinking on all there is to do at home, with the rebuilding of the town and all of it," Jarod says. "Can't say I'm sorry I returned when I did. I do wish I'd seen Storm's End, though, and the knights of the Reach. Before all this happened I was thinking I'd like to do the tourney circuit down there for a few years. See if I could make some coin at it. And spend a bit of time in King's Landing, I hear Good King Robert gives good coin for the joust and the melee when he throws one. Don't figure I'll have the chance at that for awhile yet, but I'd still like to one day." He focuses a little more on the approaching figure, squinting in effort to recognize Martyn, and raising a hand to wave when he does. "Ser Mallister! Good morning!" Not that it's a particularly fair one. Misty, and the clouds in the sky hinting at drizzle soon.
Martyn brings his horse to a stop as he sees the two out there. "Thank you, Ser Rivers," he offers at the greeting, offering a nod and a smile. "I trust the day finds you well?" Turning his nod a bit in Kamron's direction, "And you of course, cousin." He then shrugs a bit, "Any morning that finds me not having to be laying down to heal anymore is a good morning, I'd say."
Kamron raises a hand to greet Martyn when he approaches, looking back to Jarod as the other man speaks up. "I didn't see much of any of those places… besides during combat." He nods up to Martyn, "It's good to see you up and about, coz." He gestures between the two, "I was never much for the joust, although I tried a few times. More the melee. But I heard that King Robert was big on the tournaments too. I pondered going down to King's Landing myself—just too many memories from the Sack, I suppose. I never made it there."
"I'm better in the melee myself, though I was trying to train up for the joust," Jarod says. "That's the only way to make money at it. Purse in the melee's smaller, and there's only one sword who can be top. Joust, you can still make a bit of coin if you do decent, even if you don't win the final tilt. I don't figure King's Landing is much today like it was after the Sack. My squire's got a sister down there who works in a mummer's troupe, and says Good King Robert's free with his gold for entertainers and tournaments and the like. Keeps the city dancing, drinking and fucking. More before the war, of course, but outside the coasts not much of the land's been touched. Still figure it'd be a thing a man should see." His easy grin broadens, though he flushes some as he turns to Ser Martyn. "Just…err…reflecting on the splendor of the capitol, m'lord. Glad to see you're up and about. Looks like you're healing clean."
It's early morning on Harlaw Isle, one of those misty, gray mornings that hints at rain to come in the mid part of the day. It's still dry now, though, and Ser Jarod Rivers had ridden out after breakfast to get a bit of freedom from camp. He's met up with Kamron and Martyn, and the three of them are presently killing some hours on the outer edge of camp, with some breathing room from the stone monstrosity that is the Grey Garden.
Martyn chuckles a bit as he listens to the others. "One of these days, I wouldn't mind seeing the capital mysef, if there's time," he offers, efore he offers a bit of a nod. "Thanks, both of you. I must say they were glad to see me go from the tent now. I fear I haven't been that good a partient these last few days." Offering a shrug and a grin.
Kamron nods his agreement with Jarod's words, although he grimaces slightly at the mention of King's Landing again, "I suppose everyone should see King's Landing at least once… and maybe Oldtown too. Haven't made it there yet myself. Maybe I'll find some tournament with a melee down in the Reach." Kam grins over at Jarod, "Don't lose your armor in a melee." The grin is transferred over to Martyn, "And Talon Point isn't so rich that I can just throw armor away, not like Seagard." Martyn's words draw a laugh, "You mean besides the fact that you've probably tried to get out of bed ten or twelve times in the last day and a half?"
"The flowers and maesters of the Reach. Would be a hell of a thing to see," Jarod says. "Someday. When the war's over, the Roost rebuilt, every squid straggler on the coasts dead and…well. Someday. What is Talon Point like, anyhow? Never did manage to get there in the years I spent at Seagard. The Terricks haven't many cadet holds, save Middlemarch now I suppose, which is willed to my sister Lady Lucienne since the passing our her lady mother."
Putting on his most innocent expression for a few moments, Martyn offers a bit of a grin, "Yes, aside from that. And it was fifteen times, I think." He then quiets at the mention of Talon Point, but keeps quiet at the moment.
Kamron nods at Martyn, "Fifteen? Really. I think that loses me the pool. Too bad." There's a teasing sound to his words, but it fades away as he looks out to the east, "Talon's Point… not much, really. Sleepy little fishing town with a watchtower overlooking it." There's a hopeless roll to his shoulders, "Not much, but it's home." Rolling his neck, he grimaces, "You bastards are too tall up there on your horses." Turning about, he pops one boot into a stirrup and climbs into Three's saddle, "And here I was trying to spare Three the extra weight."
"Feels good to be in the saddle, if just for a bit," Jarod says. "Wouldn't chance riding far from camp in the fog, even if the ground's a little better here than it was closer to shore. Still…feels good. Sleepy fishing town? Sounds nice, really. Might have to stop next time I'm down Seagard-way. Roost was a fine place before the squids came. Tower near to the coast, so you could swim and fish if you had a mind to. Good inn, good wine, soft whores. Some of them are still in town, too. When this is all over, you fine Mallister lordships should pay a visit. I think we can still show a good time."
"What can I say, I was a bit impatient," Martyn remarks to Kamron, before he nods at Jarod's mention of visiting the Roost. "Already have it planned, since my sister's going to be staying there for a bit longer," he offers, with a bit of a grin.
Kamron settles down into the saddle, padding Three's flank as if he had to settle the horse. The gelding, however, doesn't show any signs of high-stepping, shifting, or anything. "No whores in Talon's Point. Some loose women, sure, but no professionals." He shrugs his shoulders a bit, "I was thinking of going up toward the Roost anyhow. Help out with reconstruction however I can." A hint of a self-depreciating smile touches his lips, "Besides. More likely to be bandits out that way anyhow, with the wide-scale rebuilding."
"I'll not lie, we made need a few extra swords about that corner of the Riverlands anyway even after the war's won," Jarod says. "If things go Ser Gedeon Rivers' way and Good King Robert legitimizes him, he'll gain Stonebridge. And we've his oath he'll swear it back to the Roost. I somehow doubt the Naylands'll let go of it quiet, even if we're all bound to be allies now." Serious business, this. Though something Kamron says distracts him. He blinks. "No whores?" Blink blink. "What in seven hells does a bloke do if he doesn't want to hang about and have to talk after?"
"Take of on a run?" Martyn comments at Jarod's question, before he sighs. "I should be getting back again. Even though I'm all healed now, that time spent on my back can be felt. I'll see you two later," he offers, before he starts riding back towards the Grey Garden.
Kamron nods at Martyn, a crooked grin touching his lips, "And hope you can outrun the husband coming home." His grin fades away, however, at Jarod's words, "And the Naylands aren't going to let loose of Stonebridge without a fight. Probably literally, unless Lord Tully sides with Ser Gedeon." A faint frown replaces the last vestiges of the grin on his lips, "I haven't paid much attention to how that's going…" Blue eyes twist around the area, then back to Jarod, "How deep are you in on that?"
"Never fucked a married woman before," Jarod says. "Whores seem cheaper than that sort of trouble. I've gotten in pretty deep to a few of the Roost girls, though." He grins. Oh, perhaps Kamron was talking politics. "Balls deep in the Stonebridge affair as well, so I'm rather hoping it doesn't end poorly or sharply. You want the long of it or the short of it? Not sure how much word of that whole mess reached Talon Point, though we did get Lord Jason Mallister's support on it before he was killed."
Kamron shakes his head, chuckling softly at the 'confusion,' "Me neither, honestly." Going back to politics, however, he nods his head, keeping his voice low, but not whisper-low, "I'm sure Lord Patrek'll follow his father's lead, especially giving his connection to your father." His fingers gather up the reins and drum lightly on the horn of his saddle, "I only heard the most basic details. Disputed inheritance, swooping Naylands… just the most basic."
"I'll give you the long, then," Jarod says, keeping his voice low, but winding himself up for it. "Started…fuck. It's been near six years now. Anyhow. Starts with the Rebellion. Funny how many things seem to come back to that. Even some of the reasons for this war, some claim. Lord Geoffrey Tordane, the old Lord of Stonebridge, died at the Trident. Along with his trueborn son. That left just his daughter, Lady Isolde, and Gedeon Rivers, his bastard boy. Ser Gedeon had been squiring for his lord father, but he seemed to disappear into thin air after the Trident. He'd always been treated poorly by Lord Geoffrey's wife, the Lady Valda, and says he just couldn't see a place for himself at home. He ran off to Braavos with Lord Ser Anton Valentin, and we all figured he'd gone forever. Lady Isolde went back to Stonebridge Lord Geoffrey's only heir, still promised to marry my elder brother, Ser Jaremy. And we all figured things were settled. The Tordanes were our vassals and the marriage between her and my brother'd just seal that more. Only…didn't quite work out that way." He pauses. To wince, mostly. There's more story.
Kamron shifts in his saddle, and again Three doesn't so much as twitch an ear. He nods at the set-up, grimacing about the deaths at the Trident, "Heard about that part." He keeps his voice quiet, however, letting the other man lay out the background. "Right. Ser Jaremy. Definitely didn't work out that way." But otherwise, he keeps quiet, letting the story unfold beyond background.
"You ever meet Jaremy?" Jarod asks, making a face. Like he's trying very hard to think of the best way to say what he's trying to say. "He was…err. I love Jaremy, don't get me wrong. He was always as fair and loyal a brother to me as anyone could have. But he…err. Well. Um. He sometimes didn't make the best decisions." He clears his throat. "He always wanted to join the Kingsguard, never mind that he was heir to the Roost. And that…only the best knights in the land end up joining the Kingsguard and Jaremy was…err. Anyway. He spent years dithering on that and put off the marriage and by the time he actually got around to admitting he was never going to be a White Cloak, Lord Geoffrey was long dead and his widow, Lady Valda, was pulling the strings in Stonebridge." He frowns. "Lady Valda nee Frey. She always wanted to put Stonebridge taxes into the coffers of the Twins. And Lord Geoffrey and my lord father'd been such good friends, they'd never bothered to put any marriage contract in writing that Lord Jerold knew about. So Lady Valda went behind our backs and arranged a match with the Naylands. And Lady Isolde…" He sighs. "…lovely girl, but she never could defy her mother. So she become Lady Isolde Nayland, and Stonebridge switched its allegiance to the Mire." He smirks. "We figured we'd lost it for good, until Ser Gedeon showed up back in the Riverlands, and made it all the more complicated."
Kamron chuckles softly at the question, "Never met him." The dithering and prevaricating causes him to make a 'get on with it' gesture. 'nee Frey,' on the other hand, causes him to grimace, "I knew how Stonebridge went Nayland… or Frey, as it were." Once again, his eyes flicker around the area before returning to Jarod, "But Ser Gedeon… I haven't heard much about."
"He came back to Stonebridge…just appeared like a ghost out of the air, on the eve of Lady Isolde's marriage," Jarod says. Tone growing thoughtful, and eyes going to the fog. "Back from Braavos with the Valentins. Lord Ser Anton had returned to the Riverlands to build up his holding but for Gedeon it was more than that. He had these…letters. Old love letters, some of them, written between Lord Geoffrey and Lady Valda." He makes a face. "Rather gross to read about the Nee Frey, really. But the dates…they were during the months when Lady Isolde would've been conceived. Lord Geoffrey'd spent that time traveling to tournaments in the Westerlands, away from Stonebridge. The other letter'd been written to Gedeon, from his lord father, written after Lord Geoffrey'd received his hurt at the Trident. Before he died. It said…that Lady Isolde was no natural child of his, and that Ser Gedeon was his last surviving heir. Wanted him legitimized, and given all the old Tordane lands."
Kamron whistles low and soft, "Holy fuck. Probably another one of the other Freys. There's gotta be a way they procreate so damned fast." He frowns again, tapping his fingers on the saddle horn, "And Lady Isolde has never even acknowledged the letters, and Lady Valda has said in the strongest terms that they were so many forgeries." He thinks, then adds, "Either that, or that the conclusions drawn by Ser Gedeon were flat-out wrong. And obviously King Robert never saw the letters, because he undoubtedly would have come down on the right side." A frown touches his lips, "Did Lord Tully hear the situation?"
"My squire's sister was betrothed to a Frey man. Couldn't stand the idea so much she ran off to be disowned rather than marry one," Jarod says. "He told me people said that the Frey sons…shared their women with Lord Walder." He grimaces, hands making fists on the reins of his horse. "Haven't seen it first-hand, but nothing about that family'd surprise me. Anyhow. Aye. They aren't just conclusions from the love letters. In the letter Lord Geoffrey wrote to Gedeon he admitted he'd known Isolde wasn't his natural child, but had kept it quiet so as not to shame her. I guess as he lay dying, with no heir, he couldn't abide the idea of Stonebridge leaving Tordane hands. I saw the letters myself, but unfortunately for us Ser Gedeon had the decency to show them to Lady Isolde before he took his case any higher. She took them from him and never gave them back. But we managed to push the Naylands to taking them to Lord Tully, anyhow. Got Lord Jason's support for Ser Gedeon's case, too. The whole thing we eventually heard-out at Riverrun. Lord Tully sided with us in the end, as much as he could. At least, he agreed the letters should be sent to Good King Robert. Since he's the only one who can make a bastard legitimate, he's the only one who can decide it. Far as we know, King Robert was still considering the whole matter when the war hit. Not sure where it stands now."
Kamron groans and drops his head at the 'show them to Lady Isolde,' rubbing his temples, "She's a Frey. You don't show things to the Freys." The words are said with laughter, though, and he shakes his head in amusement. "I'm sure that King Robert will deal with the situation as soon as he's back from the war." He gestures off toward the west, "Because I'm damn sure that he's over there on Pyke right now." There's a faint frown on his lips now, "If we go there too, we might try to remember ourselves to the King. I mean… I saw him kill Rhaegar, you were close by yourself. He's got to remember the heraldry from the Trident at least."
"She's not a Frey…entirely," Jarod says, jumping to Lady Isolde's defense…kind of. "She's just…doesn't want to admit her whole life might be…a giant lie." He seems to dither over saying more, but ultimately does not. Pursuing the Pyke thing instead. "Aye, hope we get a chance to. The Tordanes fought under King Robert's banner in the Rebellion. Unlike the Late Lord Frey, who only showed up to try and pick at the winnings after the bleeding was done. I hope he'll have more feeling for the Roost and Seagard than the Mire or the Twins. But we'll see how it plays. Not sure how much longer the lot of us here'll be allies, when the fighting stops with the squids." Which he does sound regretful over.
Kamron blinks, "You don't really think?" He gestures back toward the Grey Gardens and the orange-and-green banners over the gatehouse, "You don't think they'd actually -fight- for Stonebridge, do you? I was just joking earlier." His fingers toy with the leather laces hanging from the seams of his jacket at his hips, where his maille leggings hang when he's fully armored, "Lord Tully would crush them if they tried to go against the King's word and his. Absolutely crush them. To say nothing of Robert himself." He gestures back to the Gardens, "I mean… seven hells… we've all seen what King Robert does with rebellion."
"The Nayland words are 'Reach beyond your grasp,'" Jarod says with a shrug. "Whatever King Robert's command, King's Landing is very far away. I think we'd have Lord Tully's sympathies if it came to that, but we've little between our lands and Riverrun but Frey holdings. I don't think they'd rebel openly against the king's law but I think if they figure we're not strong enough to hold it…I don't figure they'll make things easy on us, is what I figure."
Kamron's features twist into something between a sneer and a snarl, "No matter how the reavers may have damaged our," he gestures between himself and the son of Lord Terrick, "homes and people, those Frey-lovers will find us no easy meat." At this, Three actually flicks an ear, and Kam leans forward to pat the horse's shoulder. "No, you're not dog-meat yet, Three. And the Naylands are getting -way- too grabby for their own good, as far as I'm concerned. Soon they'll be thinking they're the equals of the Mallisters and the Terricks."
Jarod looks up at the banners, his expression having settled more around pensive than fiery. "I don't want to fight my fellow Rivermen. Not after all this. And not against those who took the field at Alderbrook and helped free the Roost, Freylings or no." Not that he sounds particularly optimistic, for all that. "My hope is, after all of this, everyone'll be tired of fighting enough to abide by the king's decree, whatever it is. Don't know, though. We'll see how it plays." That's his fall-back saying for all this, apparently. "Anyhow. That's the long of why might be good to have more than a few Mallister swords hanging about the Roost is all. Should be interesting times, Ser Kamron."
Kamron nods his head decisively, "I don't want to fight them either. But they're -not- going to back off from what I've seen." He turns his hands up in a broad shrug, "I hope I'm wrong… but I'll definitely come to the Roost after we're done here." Bracing himself in his stirrups, he reaches over to hold out his hand to Jarod, "I'd like to meet Ser Gedeon some time, but I should get Three moving again. Lazy bastard—" he pauses a heartbeat and shrugs apologetically, "has been just standing around eating this whole time."
"Should be getting back as well. I should settle things with Lord Rickart today, about the Terricks share of the take from this place," Jarod says, urging his own horse back to camp proper, finally. And not without a trace of regret. Much work awaits back at camp, tedious as army-at-rest work is. He chuckles. "Ser Gedeon's more a productive bastard than a lazy one. Aye. We should all have a drink sometime. That'd be…interesting."
Kamron snorts, "I meant -this- lazy bastard." He pats Three's shoulder again, then shrugs, "Most of the rest of you are actually pretty damned enterprising." Laughing at that, he gives a wave, "You know where to find me."
