Page 251: Mending Mallisters
Mending Mallisters
Summary: Kamron finally comes by to visit the wounded Martyn.
Date: 26/March/289
Related Logs: Two Men Enter, Not Ded Yet, other Harlaw logs.
Players:
Kamron Martyn 
Harlaw Isle!
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.
March 26, 289

Kamron has been 'busy on the front lines' every day since the single combat and the sortie by the Harlaws, although his squire has stopped by the Mallister areas now and then in order to make sure that Ser Martyn is alive and well (being careful not to actually enter into the Mallister's presence during that time). Now, however, Kamron has apparently decided that he really should man up, and so he comes down to the camp outside the Gardens. speaking to the soldier on guard outside the tent, "Ser Kamron Mallister to see Ser Martyn, if he's awake and willing."

It wouldn't have mattered much if the squire had entered into the presence, since most of the time, Martyn has been asleep and out of it. He is awake now, at least, keeping busy by looking around the tent from his bed. Pausing a bit as he hears Kamron speaking to the guard outside. "Enter…" Spoken just loud enough for it to reach outside.

Kamron looks up at the word from inside, nods to the guard, and ducks into the tent, pulling off his helmet as he does. The younger Mallister's steps are slow, but he doesn't actually hesitate. The cloudy, misty weather outside actually helps in that his eyes don't have to adjust so far to the interior of the tent, and he approaches the other man's bedside, "Ser Martyn." There's a definitely sense that he wants to keep talking, but he keeps his greeting simple, straight-forward, and polite enough to leave him room to be defensive or joyful, depending on the other man's response.

Martyn's blue eyes turns to the other Mallister now, studying him rather carefully for a few moments. Keeping quiet for a while longer, before he offers a bit of a nod. "Cousin," he offers, a bit quietly. Keeping quiet for a while longer now. His expression is kept carefully neutral as he keeps quiet, waiting to see the other man's reaction now.

Kamron hangs his helmet over the pommel of his dirk, sliding the nasal behind his belt as he does. Coming to a stop a pace or two from the other Mallister's bed, Kam's hands fidgit a moment before he finally clasps his right in his left in front of him, "I'm glad you're healing well. I hope that you haven't been touched too much by the derision that the vassals of the Late Lord Frey have been showering on me."

"Would you mind telling me, cousin," Martyn begins, raising an eyebrow slightly. Voice kept quiet and calm for the moment as he keeps his attention on Kamron. "What possessed you to do what you did out there?" Raising his voice a bit as he asks the question, as he sits up a bit further in his bed.

Kamron's features shut down at the question, but he nods, "You had fallen and obviously lost the fight, Ser Martyn." He uses the most formal of standard addresses with perhaps a little bite to his tone, but it's not anger. "You were unmoving and incapable of continuing. You had not agreed to a fight to the death that I heard, and so I took it as Harlaw," the ironborn does not get the benefit of his own title, "striking a defenseless foe—especially after I declared you defeated and the combat over."

Martyn nods a bit as he hears that. "But you did it knowing that you could have died right there as well?" he asks, studying the other man rather carefully now. His voice just kept rather neutral at the moment. "There are some that would say you've not only damaged your own honor, but mine as well…" He goes quiet again after having spoken those words.

Kamron shrugs his shoulders, "My duty as your second was to protect you from treachery by the Harlaws, wasn't it? You were unconscious, as far as I could tell, and Harlaw was trying to chop off your head. I consider that part of that duty." There's a bit of challenge in his voice then, although he keeps it low and quiet. His lips press together tightly at the final words, "And how many of those people are Frey-lovers looking for any excuse to tear down the honor of House Mallister, cousin? If my own honor has been tarnished, I'll accept that, but there is no reason that your own should be touched by my actions. You fought bravely—and harder than most others would have."

"Some of them," Martyn admits, before he shrugs a little bit, expression softening a bit now, "And for what it's worth, I really appreciate what you did out there. For some reason I'm rather attached to my head." That last part is offered a bit lightly, with a bit of a grin now. "But I suspect you did it because you were afraid my sister would hurt you when you told her…" After speaking those words, he glances around the tent again for a few moments, then back to Kamron.

The softening of Martyn's expression releases a bit of Kamron's tension as well, if only a little. He nods at the thanks, then actually manages a grin at the comment about the other man's sister, "Mallisters are terrifying, even the women." There's a pause, and then he notes, "Perhaps especially the women, because there are fewer of them." He draws in a long, slow breath, and then lets it out with a hiss, "I know that I'm going to get a lot of shit, especially from the Naylands and the Charltons, and I may even deserve some of it. I know I cut honor close to the bone, but I'm damned sure that I was in the right, and if you want to be religious about it, I would say the Seven agree, given how things turned out. Either way, I'll do everything I can to take the hits for what I did, and keep them off you."

Martyn nods a little bit as he hears that. "One more thing you should do is thank your squire for not dropping me on my head. It took a hard enough hit back there," he offers, before he adds, "How was things after I… passed out?" Grimacing a bit at the words passing out, before he looks back to the other man.

Kamron laughs at the last, "With Percy, it's entirely in the Seven's hands. I've seen him drop his own mace, and I've seen him catch a falling goblet without even thinking. He must have been concerned enough that he wasn't thinking." The words 'passed out' draw a laugh, "I think you should claim that your armor was so battered that it choked you of air. You took a lot of hits before you went down. The Harlaw," that would be the Lord, still without title, "and his second came after me when I stopped him, but they fell back quickly enough, and they sent the majority of their forces out in a sortie. Our troops took some losses, but Ser Keelin kept them mostly together while I was passing you off to Percy, and we pushed the reaver bastards back."

Martyn chuckles a little bit as he hears the part about Percy, before the rest of it makes him nod, expression a bit more serious again. "Bastards would probably have attacked no matter what, right?" Grimacing a bit again now. "I heard talk that they might be willing to surrender now with the change of leadership…" Another brief pause, as he studies the other man a bit more carefully now. "And you, cousin. Did you get wounded during the battle? Or when you saved my stupid self out there?"

Kamron frowns thoughtfully at the first question, "I'm not sure. Probably. They were certainly in position for it. As for them being willing to surrender to Naylands rather than Mallisters, more fool them. I heard about what Ser Aleister did with the prisoner earlier on, and none of the Frey-lovers are all that different from what I've seen." The question about his own welfare, however, draws a smile onto his lips, and the younger Mallister pats his breastplate, "The Harlaw fetched me up a blow dead center that bruised the hells out of me, but beyond that and a couple of scratches and scrapes not even worth getting bandaged, they couldn't touch me." He pulls over a camp stool and carefully settles down into it, "Next time, you might think about getting a champion to do your fighting, cuz." The words, far from being the insult they could be, are spoken in a light, teasing tone.

"Ser Aleister is… one of those people that I'd think twice before offering any kind of friendship. Thankfully what he did was done while we were fragmented, with no real command," Martyn offers with a bit of a frown. He then grins a bit as he hears Kamron talking about his own well-being now. "Always knew you were slippery like a fish…" The part about a champion gets him to shrug, grimacing a bit. "So they say…" He then looks around very briefly. "You know, back at the Trident and those battles around that time, I didn't really get hurt bad. In fact worst wounds I've taken in battle before was back when I was a squire. Out there… I had resigned myself to my fate…"

Kamron shakes his head slowly, "Harlaw's no laughing matter, that's for sure. He's strong and fast. I wouldn't mind a crack at him myself, but I doubt that'll happen, and I'd -much- rather a chance at a Greyjoy." There's a pause, Kamron considering for a moment, and then going ahead with what he was going to ask, "Why did you take up the challenge, anyhow? When our forces from the rest of the island gathered, we could have taken them by numbers, or we could have starved them out. Why risk it all on single combat?"

Martyn shrugs a little bit, "If you'd asked me before things happened, I'd have said it was complicated. Part of it because it could have won us the place without much bloodshed, if it had worked. In part because when we confronted the man with the news from the other parts of the Island, it felt like he was looking for a way out. Didn't count on an old man such as him being that good a fighter still." He leaves out what the answer would have been if it was asked now, it would seem.

Kamron nods his head at the reasons given, a slow, mischevious smirk growing there as he trails off, "Okay… so who is she?" Teeth flash as the smirk spreads into a cheeky grin, "There's gotta be a girl to drive you to accept single combat on a bridge, with two armies watching and the fate of a citadel in the balance." Leaning forward, he makes beckoning gestures with both hands, "Come on… spill…"

Martyn eyes Kamron rather carefully as he hears that. "I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about," he replies, after a few moments of pause.

Kamron laughs quietly, shaking his head in amusement, "Alright… keep your secrets, for now." He shakes his head, "Once I won't feel bad about pressuring you into telling me, we'll revisit the discussion." Resting his hands on his thighs, the Mallister man adds, "You know that the Naylands have put up two of their own banners over the gatehouse? Just their banners and no others." As he speaks, his amusement fades away entirely, replaced by hard disgruntlement.

Martyn shakes his head a bit at Kamron's words. "You're lucky you're out of range for me to hit you," he remarks a bit lightly, before he frowns a bit as he hears that part about the banners. "I didn't know that. Not surprised though. They tend to be like that, I've heard. At least they, and the rest of the Frey bannermen are here this time, right?"

Kamron holds up his hands defensively at the 'threat,' but he nods, "They couldn't very well avoid it this time. Not with their forces nearly already gathered." He's quiet for a moment, then lowers his voice, "I've been thinking of doing a bit of balancing. See if we can't get a Mallister banner up there in place of one of the Nayland ones." He rolls his shoulders, "It might be a bit petty, but no more so than putting up only Nayland banners."

Martyn nods a bit as he hears that first part, before he pauses a bit at the part about the banner. "Got any idea there?" he asks, after a few moments of pause.

Kamron shrugs slightly, "Nothing solid. Just figured I might talk to a few of our outriders and archersbetween us and the Terricksgo in some night, lower one of the Nayland banners and raise one of our own." He blinks, then grins, chuckling darkly, "Or maybe lower both and replace them with ours and the Freys. Then even the Naylands couldn't -really- complain."

"Good thing that you don't have anything solid yet. When you do, don't let me know what it is," Martyn offers with an expression partially a grin and partially a grimace. Because then, if Lord Rickart comes to complain, or sends anyone to complain, I can honestly say I had no idea about it."

Kamron nods his head sharply, "Will do." He pauses, frowns a moment, then corrects himself, "Or rather, won't do. Because nothing will ever come of it. It's just talk." Really. Kamron has a horrible poker face. Either that, or he's just not trying. Changing the topic, he adds, "Is there anything you need in here, Martyn? There's been a bit of ale and mead found by the men, but not much, and nothing good."

"Good," Martyn replies with a bit of a nod, before he adds, "Ser Rivers was here…" Pausing a bit as he tries to think of when it was. "A while back. He brought some of that mead." Another pause, as he tries to figure out what he might need. "I don't know, really."

Kamron shrugs a shoulder, "I could hunt down a book, or someone who can play an instrument. Or just send an increasingly inane stream of squires through here to hear your accumulated wisdom." His grin is back there at the end, once more ribbing his cousin.

Grimacing once more as he hears that part about the squires, Martyn looks around for a few moments. "Now that you mention it, maybe some rocks or something I can toss at cousins making crazy ideas while standing out of my range from here," he comments with a bit of a shake of the head.

Kamron chuckles, "Rocks? I'm offering to get you most anything on Harlaw Island, and you want -rocks-?" He kicks at the ground through the floor of the tent, causing two rocks beneath to scrape off one another audibly, "Is there anything more common on this island?" Gesturing toward his laid-up cousin, he adds, "You didn't even ask for a girl… you -must- have someone in mind. Hells, I bet you haven't even made two of the eight, and you're already looking to get married."

"Ever seen the girls around these islands? Very few of them are much to look at," Martyn replies, before he adds, "If you can find one that's pleasing for the eyes, and would not try to plant a dagger in my ribs, go ahead." He shakes his head a bit at that getting married part, before he adds, "No, not really. But it's one of the things that are inevitable for people like us, right? Unless we get killed, or head off to the Wall or something like that, of course."

Kamron shrugs helplessly, "Point. And if there is a good-looking woman on the islands who wouldn't be likely to plant a dagger in your ribs… well, I'm sure she's been found already." A grimace paints his lips at the mention of his probably fate, "I'll stick to a sword to the throat some time when I'm old and gray, thanks. There are plenty of other Mallisters to carry on the family name. Leave me to soldiering and tournaments and hunting down bandits and I'm happy. Set me at a high table or make me dance with some great lady… that's not for me."

Martyn nods a bit, "I'd say the same, but then again, it's rather inevitable, I'd suspect. Especially for those of us without older siblings…" He shakes his head a little bit, "But hopefully we'll have this thing taken care of soon, so we can go back home, right?"

Kamron nods his head, "Us lesser Mallisters might actually have that option," there's no bitterness in the words, just amusement, "Assuming our mothers don't get their way." Grunting softly and shrugging his shoulders, Kam doesn't -quite- verbally agree with the last point, "It would be nice to get out of armor for a while. I think I'm starting to chafe. But like I said before, I'd rather have a crack or two at the Greyjoys before I go home, not that that'll happen."

"But then, one day in the future, I imagine you with a wife and kids," Martyn comments, before he snickers, "Quite a sight, really." He grimaces at the mention of the chafing. "Well, at least you're able to wear your armor at the moment," he comments. "When I get home, I think I'll work a bit on my swordfighting, just to be safe."

Kamron snorts softly, "Just throw me in front next time. Your sister barely knows me, she won't kill you if I die. And then you'll save me from those wife and kids." He reaches down, hefting up his breastplate a moment and grimacing, then rising to his feet from the camp stool and pulling off one of his leather gauntlets. He reaches out with the freed hand to gently clasp Martyn's, "I should get back up front. I don't expect them to try another sally, but we could get lucky. I really am glad that you're getting better though. You gave me a fright and a half."

Martyn chuckles as he hears that, "But that would make you get off to easy, cousin," he replies, before he nods a bit as Kamron takes his leave, "It's all because of you," he replies to the part about being better. "Thanks." And then he leans back a bit more, trying to find some sleep again. At least he'll be well rested when he gets well again.

Kamron snorts again, "Naw. If the Harlaw chopped off your head, you'd just keep yammering away at him. Be well." And then he's turning about to head off back to the citadel.