|Judgment and Demand|
|Summary:||Rafferdy demands trial by combat rather than face The Wall.|
|Related Logs:||Arrested Development, Spies Among Us, and Bootleather and Archer|
|Guest Chambers, Fortress of the Sevens|
|4 November, 289|
It's not a long trip from Stonebridge to Hag's Mire, but it's not one that Tyroan has been making very frequently. Now, however, he's back, and he knocks on the door to Rafferdy's chamber/cell. He waits perhaps a count of ten, then opens the door, stepping inside. One of the Hag's Mire men-at-arms lurks in the open doorway behind him. Tyroan looks to his nephew, then nods his head in greeting. "You look like shit, lad." By the man's tone, it's not meant to be an insult, just an observation. And he doesn't hang around on ceremony, continuing on, "I hope you're packed. You're going north."
Rafferdy pushes to his feet, and turns to face Tyroan. "I'm not packed because I didn't bring anything. My things are all in Stonebridge. I wasn't intending to stay here." He scratches his head, and watches his uncle for a moment. "What's north?"
Tyroan shrugs off the suggestion, "I'm sure we can get together enough fucking clothes for your trip." The question, however, draws a snort, "The Wall's north." Pressing his right fist into his left palm, popping each knuckle in turn. His voice hardens and takes on a formal tone, "Rafferdy Nayland, for the crime of treason against House Nayland, and in the name of Lord Rickart Nayland, Lord of House Nayland, you are hereby sentenced to take the black and serve on the Wall for the rest of your days."
Rafferdy's brow furrows in surprise, then bewilderment. "What?" He tilts his head a bit. "This is some kind of joke, right? Where's Father?" He looks out the door, then back at Tyroan.
Tyroan shakes his head, "No fucking joke. It may be cold as fuck up there, but at least you'll be alive, and you'll still be a fucking Nayland." Shaking out his right hand, he gestures back out the door behind him, "Rickart's behind the choice, even if he couldn't make it his own damned self."
Rafferdy just stands there, clearly stunned. "So… You decide my entire life by one single ten minute conversation… I've spent the last nine years pretending to be with the enemy to get Father information. And every time, he was happy to get it, and now, after all that time, he does this to me?" He shakes his head a bit, and then, sounding almost childlike, he asks, "And Father didn't even care enough to do it himself?"
Tyroan narrows his eyes at Rafferdy, "No. I decided your fate from one of three Rickart was considering. After what…" he pauses, frowning in thought, "…six people questioned. And a couple of them questioned others." He lets out a breath of air, "Are you going to be throwing a tantrum now? Rickart's got better things to do than come let you cry on his fucking shoulder. So do I, matter of fact."
Rafferdy shakes his head, "I've done nothing wrong. I've certainly done less wrong than all my brothers and sisters, who have apparently all been magically forgiven." He exhales slowly, "This is a farce."
Tyroan shakes his head, "No. You betrayed your fucking family. You tried to sell us out, then when you realized we actually had a chance, you tried to weasel your way back into the light." And here his smile takes on a wintery cast, "And no, your brother who thought with his fucking balls, and the one who thought with his ass, they aren't getting off scott-free."
Rafferdy stands a bit straighter then. "You are wrong in your accusation of treason. And as such, Ser Tyroan Nayland, I demand trial by combat."
Tyroan shrugs one shoulder, "That's your right. Personally, I'd just suggest you take it like a fucking man." He crosses his arms over his chest, "You're not a fighter. Life on the Wall might do its best to freeze your balls off, but it's still life."
Rafferdy just stares at the man. "You don't know me at all. There is no life for me there. I AM taking it like a man. I'm standing up for myself. And since I wasn't granted the dignity of a formal trial under you and Lord Rickart, I demand this." He lifts his chin just a bit. "Now, do you accept?"
Tyroan shrugs his shoulders again, "You've been judged. And if it weren't for the Erenfords, we'd've fucking lost Stonebridge, in part because of you. But trial by combat's your fucking right. You'll face the knight who wants to champion the House."
Rafferdy laughs, "We kept Stonebridge because of me. But of course, you wouldn't know that. You swept in out of nowhere to claim the prize after the rest of us did all the work." He shakes his head, "So, you don't have the balls to face me yourself then?"
Tyroan shakes his head, "You're either dumb as fuck, boy, or you really like lying to your family. Me, I'm thinking dumb as fuck. And if Rickart wants me to knock your head out of your ass, I will. It's his choice as to who'll champion the House." And with that, he turns around, heading back to the open door with the guard standing in it.
Rafferdy just shakes his head, and sits on the bed, letting the man go.