|Summary:||Lord Rygar rewards his Serjeant|
|Date:||31 January 2012|
|Related Logs:||Seagard war stuff|
|Nayland Encampment - Seagard|
|Nayland stuff all over|
|31 January 289|
Assemblies are not uncommon among the Nayland levies. Every morning they are mustered for review and inspection, excepting of course those few who are too badly injured to be mustered among the others. Today, at the time of the morning muster, Einion finds that his daily exercise has been comandeered. No sooner has he stepped out of the medical pavilion that he finds the ranks of the Stonebridge levies gathered. "Serjeant Wycliffe," a level, polished voice is raised to intone.
Enwrapped in bandages, and still very stiff, Einion exits slowly and gingerly. Stopping the moment he hears his name, he.. freezes, his face falling. If he thought he was afraid to see the Ironborn lord bearing down on him with an axe? Nothing in comparison here, except for the fact that he'd gotten a 'heads up' from Ser Tam that his Lordship might be looking for him. It's.. not looking like gold… "My lord?" It begins as something of a whisper, but he clears his throat and tries again, this time, a little less.. whispery, but no less concerned. "My lord?"
Rygar nods curtly once at Einion's greeting and inquires, "Are you able to continue standing, Serjeant, or shall a stool be brought?" The stern knight wears his familiar stoic expression, closer to a frown than a smile.
Stool? Standing? There's that moment of indecision, read easily upon the tanner's face, and he tries to stand straight, "I can stand, my Lord.." in the presence of nobility, is there really any other decision? As much as Einion would like to sit, there's nothing that anyone, short of a noble command, that'd put him down. "If it pleases you, my lord."
"It does," Rygar answers with a curt nod. "I am aware that the practice of a levy is yet new to the men of Stonebridge. But in Hag's Mire, the smallfolk have embraced a certain tradition. It is well known that each man of the levy is obliged by law of fealty to present themselves for muster with a sidearm at their own expense." Most peasants obey the obligation by simply bringing a knife or a hatchet. "Those smallfolk of means carry weapons equal to their quality." Although he does not look aside from Einion, he holds a hand out to one side, and from behind him, the knight's squire steps discreetly up to place a short sheath across Rygar's open palm. The weapon is a rather fine example of a dirk, hilted with brass and carved bone. The scabbard is of leather, throated and tipped in brass. "It suits me to see the Serjeantry of Stonebridge armed in keeping with their leal quality." The weapon is held, hilt first to Einion.
Einion listens carefully, the words beginning as a buzz.. and listening more carefully, he can feel eyes on him from the others. He can't move, frozen in his place. His expression moves, however, from fear to .. surprise, again written upon his face. He fights the brightening on his face, but it can't be hidden from the gleam of his eyes. Slowly, he licks suddenly dry lips, and he looks at his lordship, and back at the dirk, and back.. and stammers, "M-my lord.." He reaches for it, taking it, feeling the balance. "Thank you, my lord.. I.." is speechless. "I am your man, my lord.."
Rygar acknowledges the tanner's reaction with a slow nod. As it should be. "Your good service and example to the men of Stonebridge has well deserved such, Serjeant." A short look aside again to the crisp ranks of the levy, to prompt, "For the good men of Stonebridge, and for House Nayland. Three cheers."
Einion grins suddenly, his eyes bright, and he sheds a tear of pride. It's of great workmanship, and he can't wait to go and look at it more closely. He tries to bow, and gets only so far before he simply can't push himself further.. "Thank you, my Lord.." and to hear the cheers from the levy? If he father was here, he'd be proud, as his mother and sister.. There are some cheers that rise in the form of 'Green!!'.. echoed by calls of 'Orange!'.. but they're (mostly) for the tanner.. and their home.