| Oh Captain, My Captain |
| Summary: | The Charltons chat. |
| Date: | 2 August 2012 |
| Related Logs: | The Charlton and Terrick Accord. |
| Players: |
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| Reading Room, Four Eagles Tower |
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| The room has a large glass window and seat that looks out partially over the cove, in daylight hours the sun provides illumination to the room. Other stools and chairs linger in small groups as shelves along the walls are littered with scrolls, books, letters and documents. The contents are a modest collection of local records, histories, and literature offered to both the family and guests of Four Eagles Tower. |
| August 2, 289 |
Jac Caddock is not a dumb man. Even as he started thinking about how to approach the Knight of Highfield on such a request, he knew that his first step was to bathe. And he did, scrubbing off all the dirt that had gathered over the last couple days and dressing in new laundered clothes. He required little asking to find where he might locate the Lord, and when he steps into the Reading Room, he does so with reverence — perhaps for the books, or perhaps because he's as common as the dirt that usually swathes his skin. He hesitates just a moment, seeking out Aleister.
Most people who would venture to the Reading Room would no doubt use it to lose themselves in one of the many books or perhaps to refresh their memory from the scrolls or documents; not Aleister though. He can be found before the large glass window, clad in the finery of his House's colors, with his hands casually clasped behind his back, the left within the right. A Charlton guard stands off to one side of the room, quiet as can be, eyes directed sharply to the wall that rests opposite where he stands.
Jac acknowledges the guard, even if he perhaps does not acknowledge him. He gives his jerkin a quick tug, hand brushing over the newly attached Highfield crest that lays now over his heart. He clasps his hands behind his back, clearing his throat as casually as possible. "Milord," the Songbird says politely. "Forgive my interruption." He bows, even if it is to Aleister's back, maintaining the angle of his spine until he is recognized.
DUMP: Rafferdy would like to be knighted by the database.
Hearing the greeting behind him, Aleister remains facing that window for a moment, his gaze directed at something out and beyond and when that moment comes to pass, he slowly begins to turn from it so that he can now face Jac. The bow is answered by an incline of his head, followed closely by, "Ser Caddock." A brief pause is taken before he's offering, "What is it that you require?"
Jac straightens at the sound of his name, keeping his poise straight — a well trained posture. "Milord, I had sent along my squire to Stonebridge on a number of errands… as a new squire to the Charltons, he is an unknown." Also helps he's just a stupid smallfolk boy, but that's neither here nor there. "It was an amatuer's attempt at reconnaissance, but he did return with some information." He steps forward, withdrawing a small tube of tightly rolled paper from his belt. He obviously has no intention to share this information outloud.
Listening to that, Aleister allowsh is right brow to loft a touch, though he does give another slight nod in Jac's direction. "Interesting," is all that is offered immediately and when that tube of tightly rolled paper is revealed, a hand extends outwards, to accept it from the other Knight, "Initiative. I do so like such a thing. I hope that something of use was recovered."
Jac steps forward to bestow upon him the tube. When he speaks next, he does so in a quieter tone. "He is not the best of spies, Milord, but he served his purpose well." He clasps his hands firmly behind his back, shoulders squared. "They at least, Milord, are not quite as swift to reaction as I would have expected. It is not as if there hasn't been enough hints, but still they are slow to prepare." He nods his head a bit.
When the tube comes to be set in his hand, the paper is extracted and unrolled so that Aleister can take a moment to look it over. Then, it's rolled back up, placed in the tube and promptly settled into a pocket on his tunic, "Yes, they are. But, I will offer credit where credit is due, Ser Caddock, they can be called up quickly. Much more quickly then most others, for Ser Rygar has drilled them well." A shrug comes to be offered, followed by, "But, it is of little concern. We have little hope of catching them off guard, in all honesty."
"Yes… Ser Rygar," Jac grimaces, remembering his first meeting with the man — it was unfortunately during the apprehending of the Charlton guards at the Stonebridge inn, so therefore an acceptable distaste. He shakes his head a bit. "There is a place for subtlety in war, but I believe we are past that point, yes, Milord." He nods his head firmly. There is a small length of silence, the Knight glancing over to the Charlton guard before returning his somber eyes on the Knight of Highfield. "With our return to Highfield fast approaching, Milord, I was hoping to put forth a small, personal request."
"My recently-widowed mother has been suffering in the wake of my father's passing, so I have sent for her to join me at Highfield," Jac explains, hands still clasped. "She is unfortunately a woman who can not idle without purpose to her life. She served the Bracken House well, managing much of their maidservants and chaperoning several of the Bracken ladies. I was hoping, Milord, that you may find a place for her in the Highfield's household." He taps his fingers lightly behind his back. "
"As it stands now, we are not yet at war, Ser Caddock. Our troops do not yet march on Stonebridge, but rather, they will meet us in Highfield." A flash of a smile accompanies those words and it's followed by a nod of his head, "But you are right, there is no place for subtlety in war, for it seldom succeeds." Turning away a touch, he moves towards a shelf, to look over a couple of the books that rest there as he offer,s "What is it that you would ask?"
"Of course, Milord," Jac says in response to there not yet being a war, yet being the keyword. He lets that subject subside, putting forth his request. "My recently-widowed mother has been suffering in the wake of my father's passing, so I have sent for her to join me at Highfield," he explains, hands still clasped and his gaze remaining forward through the window. "She is unfortunately a woman who can not idle without purpose to her life. She served the Bracken House well, managing much of their maidservants and chaperoning several of the Bracken ladies. I was hoping, Milord, that you may find a place for her in the Highfield's household." He taps his fingers lightly behind his back.
There's little doubt that Aleister has heard the request, but no reply is forthcoming. At least, not immediately, for his eyes remain fixed upon the spines of the books, drifting over the titles for a moment longer before he finally turns from his, his gaze once more finding the other Knight before he's giving a nod of his head, "Send word that she is welcome in Highfield, Ser Caddock. A place can be found in the Household if she desires to serve." Another nod and then he's following up with, "In return, I require something of you."
Jac offers a stiff, but precise bow at the acceptance of the request. It causes a look of satisfaction on his usually dirt-swathed expression, though it is quick to even out as Aleister speaks onward. He nods his head quickly, face wooden as usual when preparing to accept an order from his lords. "I am sworn to serve, Milord. Ask it and it will be done."
"Indeed you are, Ser Caddock, and you have done well to date," is what Aleister offers immediately and it's followed by, "But, your service to the Lady Alys is no longer required and as such, you are released from the bonds of protecting her." There's a brief pause, a flicker of his gaze to the window and then back again before he continues with, "In place of those duties, you will take over as Captain of the Guard for Highfield."
Jac's jaw tightens just a touch at the news he will no longer be looking after Alys, but then it quickly relaxes with surprise at the news of what his new duties will be. It is now his turn to be quiet in the wake of Aleister's words, but his brain quickly kicks back into use. He bows his head swiftly with acceptance. "Milord… I am honored."
Aleister simply gives a slight incline of his head in response to Jac's bowing of his own head and a moment later, he's offering, "It will not due to have my Captain of my Guard clad in a suit of only maile. When we return to Highfield, Ser Caddock, you will speak with the quarter master and ensure that you receive a proper helm, coat of plates and gauntlets to be worn over your maile."
And the surprises keep on coming. Jac blinks several times at this news, and his mouth does a kind of cod-fish impression before he quickly nods his head in firm acceptance. "Of course, and thank you, Milord. I will wear it with pride." He straightens up again.
Now, a smirk begins to dance upon Aleister's lips at Jac's reaction and at the thanks that is offered, there is another simple nod of the Lord's head, "I would hope that to be the case, Ser Caddock." A slight deepening of the smirk begins, though it's broken as he offers, "I expect to hear back from Lord Jerold this evening or in the morrow. It would be wise to ensure everyone is prepared for departure at a moment's notice."
"I will see to the preparations, Milord," Jac says with a nod. "I will send young Darek to gather up those who have perhaps started to get too comfortable here at the Roost." He chuckles wryly. "If that is possible…" He adds, perhaps a bit under his breath. See, even smallfolks can be slightly snobby. He bows, looking as if he is prepared to step away to make it so. He did say at a moment's notice, after all.
Jac and Aleister are standing within the Reading Room, conversing amongst themselves, while another Charlton Guard stands off to one side, quietly minding his own business. With a slight nod of his head, the smirk still upon his lips, Aleister offers, "Excellent, Ser Caddock. Then let us hope that we can leave here sooner, rather than later."
Ser Harold had looked better, truth be told. A slight redness to his eyes, and some shadows beneath them, and there was a decidedly slow and methodical air to his movements, the kind a man who'd drunk far too much the night before might use to keep the little invisible gnomes from pounding on his skull with sledge hammers. Or at least, be softer about it. He paused at the entrance of the reading room, eyes flittering between the unassuming guardsman, who recieved a slight nod of acknkowledgement, and then the two conversing figures a moment after. Again he nodded; a deeper one to Aleister, but with a familiar touch in each gesture of greeting. He didn't quite approach or intrude, just yet, looking as if he was more than happy to look over the various books and scrolls that littered the space about them.
"I look forward to our return to Highfield, Milord," Jac says with a honest grin flickering at his lips though it turns quickly into a grimace. "I once came through here years ago, long before the Reavers. I have not seen a township so quickly lost to despair." He is turning now as if to find that young squire, but he instead looks at Ser Harold. A bit more familiar with the man, he arches up his brows high up his forehead at his state. "Milord, I've never seen a more glowing display of when age meets wine," he says, trying not to chortle. He does bow after his comment all the same, providing a more proper greeting to the nobleman.
"Indeed," comes the reply from Aleister, followed by, "The Roost has fallen far, but they have no one to blame but themselves. After all, who allows an ambassador from the Iron Isles into their home?" A shake of his head accompanies the question and it's then that he notices the entrance of Harold. A loft of his brow comes to be offered, followed by a slight incline of his head, "Well, Uncle. You look like shit."
"Milord's my brother, the Father watch him," Ser Harold said with a dismissive way, while his lips quirked in a half smile. "Ser'll do plenty for me. But thank you for that lovely greeting, none the less. I feel particularly glowing myself." His eyes passed in Aleister's direction, blowing out a snort at his nephew's rather blunter description. "Heh. You can't tell old war stories without drinking a bit. Or much. Besides, apparently it was Erenford mead they'd gotten me, so I felt obliged to ensure the Erenfords had an oppertunity to see a Charlton knight like me, properly happy and drunk. Would've been rude to do anything else." He slapped his stomach. His eyes turned slightly shrewd. "While the youths of the Roost got drunk with me, I heard a few tales of wanting to strangle a certain daughter of our Lord host."
Jac chuckles wryly to Harold, and a grin splits his face. "Alcohol is the best social lubricant around, Ser," the freshly-made Captain of the Guard comments. "It also allows for looser lips and blunt honesty." He nods his head, though his brows do quirk a bit at the conversation hook about Lord Jerold's daughter. He wracks his brain a moment before finding the name, "You must be speaking of Lady Lucienne Terrick, Ser?" He returns his hands behind his back, looking between the two Charltons now.
"So long as it is not having that effect on us, I am not concerned," murmers Aleister with a slight shake of his head, though at the mention of strangling and then Lucienne, the man offers a soft grunt, "It would seem the Lady Lucienne rode to Stonebridge yesterday morning." A faint sniff and another shake of his head, "I allowed the negotations to continue and we came to a conclusion, but I … advised the Lady Anais that should an agreement come to pass between Terrick and Nayland, it will be dealt with."
"Aye," Ser Harold said, and it was agreement with both Jac's words of social lubricant and looser tongues, and Aleister's warning in regards to keeping one's own straight. He scratched at his beard with his nails, then nodded at Aleister. "Apparently she slipped her minders or something, or so they'd have me believe. I do think they were honest about that, though. Some kind of brooding anger is hard to fake, if not impossible." He gave a shrug that said he probably would still have suspicions. "What were the terms in the end?"
Turning his attention in the direction of Harold, Aleister gives a slight shrug of his shoulders, "I care not if she slipped her minders. But, if I catch wind of an alliance between the Terrick's and the Naylands, we will deal with the betrayal." At the mention of the terms that were reached, he takes a breath and then begins:
House Charlton agrees to provide House Terrick with grain, vegetables, and seed sufficient to (amount that more or less keeps our heads above water) in shipments occurring no less than once per month for an initial period of six months, to be reevaluated upon completion of said term.
House Charlton grants hunting rights to House Terrick in the woods of Highfield within (reasonable number) leagues of the border with Terrick's Roost for the term of the loan, not to exceed four hunts of no more than one day's duration each month. In return, House Charlton shall collect fifty percent of the hides from said hunt, to be delivered uncured in a timely fashion.
Should Stonebridge be closed to Terrick's Roost, House Charlton shall allow passage of goods through Highfield to Terrick's Roost free of tariff.
House Terrick pledges that they shall offer neither military nor mercantile support to House Nayland should they come into conflict with House Charlton, save by call of House Mallister. No Nayland troops shall be allowed to pass through Terrick lands in the event of such a conflict.
House Charlton pledges to move neither men nor supplies through Terrick's Roost in the event of a conflict between House Charlton and House Nayland.
House Terrick pledges to provide the services of craftsmen of apprentice and journeyman rank to Highfield on a volunteer basis. Those who volunteer shall serve a period of one year in Highfield with a performance review at six months. Both the craftsmen and their families shall be allowed to travel between Highfield and the Roost four times within the year.
House Terrick pledges that the number of craftsmen shall total no less than five percent of journeyman rank and no less than ten percent of apprentice rank craftsmen currently in Terrick's Roost, subject to rates of volunteer. Should fewer than the specified number of craftsmen volunteer, terms shall be renegotiated to the satisfaction of both House Terrick and House Charlton.
Should any terms of this agreement be violated by either house, or should House Terrick be called by House Mallister to defend House Nayland, House Charlton agrees that all craftsmen sent from Terrick's Roost to Highfield shall be provided with safe and expedient transport back to Terrick's Roost.
Should any craftsmen sent from Terrick's Roost choose to remain in Highfield after their one-year term of service, Terrick's Roost will be fully compensated for the loss of their services. The value of each craftsman who returns to Terrick's Roost one full rank above where he ranked when he left, by judgement of the masters remaining in Terrick's Roost, shall be subtracted from this total.
Supplies provided by House Charlton shall be repaid in kind at five percent simple interest over a period not to exceed three times that of the loan.
House Charlton agrees to make no claims of fealty from House Terrick as a result of this accord.
"To be honest, Ser Harold," Jac begins with a frankness in his tone, "It would be foolish of them to send a Lady as young as her to undermine our business here. It would be equally foolish for them to send any ambassador with us still here." He does look toward Aleister now at the news of the terms.
"Aye, foolish," Ser Harold agreed, then added with a bit of resigned cynicism: "But I find that the world is not shy of fools, Songbird." He turned to listen to Aleister's description of the terms, his head bobbing thoughfully as he swallowed the meaning and consequences. "And now we're just waiting on the approval stamp, then? I still find it an insult that we're not dealing with the Lord directly. Grief is little excuse. You're the Knight of Highfield, now. Still. I guess we're getting what we came for." He frowned, then added another question: "This business with Alys' maid and guards?"
Offering a cluck of his tongue, Aleister gives a slight nod of his head, "The Roost is in shambles. Lord Terrick is losing his hold on things. His own daughter runs freely away." A shrug of his shoulders come to pass, "I will accept dealing with his daughter in law, who I gather will run things when he passes, anyways." A pause is taken, followed by just a hint of a smirk, "Bandits, I'm told, is what happened. A shameful thing."
Jac listens with a dutiful ear, nodding now and then with certain terms. He does not speak his opinions, however, but he does not seem to have any qualms. He then looks over toward Harold at the mention of Alys's guards, and his mouth thins a bit. "Banditry," Jac says to the older of two noble knights. Perhaps because he's slightly out of the loop on the whole Alys affair, Jac hasn't put two and two together — or perhaps he refuses to acknowledge it. "I'm certain Lady Alys will be most upset to hear such news. Sweet Maddy had been at Alys's side for quite some time."
Ser Harold's eyes got a hard edge to them when Aleister mentioned bandits in the same space of wearing a smirk, rather than a call to arms. Yet at the same time, all his response to it was a brisk nod of acceptance. If that was the story, then it seemed that Harold was going to swallow it whole. "Want me to.. ride out and 'investigate' a little? Show just how seriously we take that kind of loss of our sworn men? I've had plenty of dealings with bandits, and hunting for them. Can't always find them, though. Sometimes they vanish like smoke, the bastards." He looked at Jac, nodding a touch. "Aye. I suppose I should go offer my sympathies."
"I am sure that the Lady Alys will be devasted. And the loss of sworn soldiers and servants is indeed a tradegy." Looking to Harold and then to Jac and then back again, Aleister is giving a nod of his head, "Yes Uncle, take Ser Caddock with you when you do and see what you can find." Another nod comes to follow, then, "And see that respects are paid to the Lady Alys. It was hard enough for her to have her maid dismissed. But to know that she perished while returning?" This time, he's shaking his head.
Jac huffs out a breath — the kind a tired hound might release, though it is followed by an easy smile. "The good news is, Sers, after investigating the bandits the last time, I at least have learned quite a bit about where the fuckers like to hide." His voice sombers soon after that. "Lady Alys is a strong lady, Milords. She will grieve, but she will also find the strength to move on." The Songbird is standing with ease with Harold and Aleister, one of Aleister's guards realizing that there's a crack in the reading room wall since he's been staring at it for so long.
"Alright, then. We'll have ourselves a look," Ser Harold said with a nod in response. The right kind of look. He looked at Jac with a nod. "Of course, she's Charlton made. We've got strong cores, but still doesn't hurt to offer a bit of support in a tough time." His words trailed off a little, fingers working along the small of his back where he made little pops come out. Apparently he hadn't been sleepign properly, either. Or might be he'd just been sleeping on the benches after his binge the night before.
While the Lady Cherise and her handmaiden would announcing the arrival more visitors to the Reading Room by a testing call for her husband, "Aleister?" She asked, just as the doors had been pressed open. This is where one of the guards had stated where she may find him. Though on her entry she was not expecting the familiar faces of both kin and Songbird. A smile had curled the corners of her mouth, dawning the instant mask of warmth. "Uncle.. Ser Jac." The pair of women press a touch further in side, the handmaiden Magda draws the door to a close at the edges of their shadows.
A simple nod of his head comes to pass in the direction of Jac and when he looks to Harold, Aleister is offering, "Indeed we are." At this point, a messanger comes forth and angles directly for Aleister, with a slight murmer of apology for interrupting. Whatever is said draws a nod and a flash of a smile and when he looks back towards Jac and Harold, he's offering, "Excuse me. Lord Jerold is ready to meet with me, to sign the accord." A hand lifts and motions towards Jac, "Uncle, Ser Caddock has been appointed Captain of my Guard, as well. Just so you are aware." Turning to hurry from the room, he's offering a nod of his head towards Cherise, along with a smile, "Cherise." But, he doesn't stay to talk. Instead, he zooms out.
"It is easy to see why you squired with the Darrys, Ser," Jac says to Harold. "I see the same strength and pride in both houses." He then looks up a bit as the familiar voice of Lady Cherise touches his ears. He turns to face her, offering a deep bow to the fair woman. "Milady," he says in greeting. He looks after Aleister as he makes his leave, and a glance is cast to Harold now. "I believe that I will have to ensure that Darek is fleet of foot if that smile means what I think it means," the Songbird says wryly. Then he turns his attention to Cherise once more. "Milady, I find myself graced by the Seven's good fortune… I was just about to come seek an audience with you."
There was a fondly welcoming smile growing inside of Harold's bristling beard when Cherise made her arrival, dipping his head in a familiar but still quite the deep bow. "Dear niece," he murmured, skipping the 'good' part and making it as if she was wholely his kin. When Aleister stepped out, he got a nod from his uncle, a look of satisfaction at a deal finally done. "Captain of the guards, is it? I suppose we'll be working together a lot, then, Captain Jac. For now I'll be acting as the Master-At-Arms of Highfield,training the men you'll be leading."
Her eyes swept from Jac, to Harold and back again after receiving recognition. Aleister's departure was noticed and gone for more pressing matters were at hand and the Lady knew this well. "This is wonderful news." She agrees, drawing a touch closer to the pair of men as to be officially included in the discussion. "My husband awards those who are deserving and I have the utmost faith in his decision Ser… Captain Jac (Sparrow)." Magda seemed to be pleased as well, as her lady was. "Were you? I am here now." She tells the Songbird before taking another glance of her uncle by marriage. "The men can gain much from your many years of wisdom and experience. We are so very grateful that you had agreed Uncle."
Jac chortles a bit at the congratulations from the Charlton man. "Thank you, Ser," he says, though there is a small wry note in his tones. "I find myself already creating a list of things to accomplish once we are back at Highfield. I would like to provide Ser Aleister with a review of our current status." As the lady uses Captain, he brightens such a bit. "Thank you, Milady. I promise you as I will promise your Lord Husband that I will ensure that you will always be safe as long as I command the guard." Then he sombers a bit, bowing his head to the woman. "Ser Aleister has just accepted my request to have my mother integrated into the Highfield household. She is lost in the wake of my father's death, and as her only child, I find myself responsible for her happiness. She will need something to keep her busy, as that is the only way she is most content. If I can be so bold, I believe she would serve you and perhaps even Young Lord Aerick well."
"Well," Ser Harold said with a rough bit of chuckle escaping. "I might have a thing or two to teach, than just how to get drunk and then have a nasty hangover the day after." He gave his back another little crank, as if just thinking about the night before had given him some phantom aches. "Though with us likely to soon be leaving, I think I'll ask you both my forgiveness as I take my departure and see about readying all my belongings." He paused, then glanced at JAc's direction. "And we have that ride to make," to look in on the 'bandits' who had so ruthlessly killed Charlton sworn.
Upon his given promise Cherise inclined her forward, just a touch as acceptance. "I should hope you'll forever remember those words Captain Jac." The Songbird had been told before he further shares the reason for requesting an audiance. "Perhaps, see that she does arrive and I shall find a suitable place for your mother. Is she able bodied? Any hinderances I should be made aware of?" Besides loneliness. A feeling the woman was all too familiar with. Though her eyes do switch to Harold now, hands folded before her abdomen as the golden red shawl draped from her elbows. "Of course Uncle." The bandit news had spread wide and her belongings were well packed, all to ready and eager for departure.
Jac nods to Harold. "Ser, I will send Darek out to gather up the Charlton sworn that are still lollying around the Roost so that our departure can be prompt. I will meet you down for our ride shortly, but it may be that we cannot fully investigate until the Charltons are on their way back to Highfield. Ser Aleister was very direct that he intends us to leave shortly after the documents have been signed and sealed." Then he glances back over toward Cherise. "She is a hearty and sturdy woman, Milady. She is also one of high moral character, can turn any combination of ingredients into a feast, and has a far more beautiful singing voice than even myself." What a momma's boy…
A faint smile curved the lady's nude lips. "She sounds lovely Captain Jac." Cherise had summed up just before her gaze followed Harold's departure. "Then it is true, the bandits are invading the outskirts of townships once again?" A look of worry flashed in the large blue eyes of this Charlton woman.
Jac looks after the departing man, waiting until the door has once more settled into place before he looks back toward the Charlton Lady. "To be honest, Milady, I don't know for certain… to be honest, I would be happier if it was banditry instead of some act against those sworn to the Charltons, but I would not turn aside any possibility." He nods his head after a moment. "They would be foolish, no matter the cause, to attack us on our return to Highfield. You will come home without a threat." He bows his head earnestly.
She nods, willing to believe and place her faith in the newly promoted Captain's recent assurance. "It may be the Naylands then? An attempt to cast doubt upon this agreement with the Roost, for our own household was attacked." Too many possibilities. Had they been bandits then the Roost had not fully completed the removal of the threat. Cherise draws a breath, visibly inward. "Thank you Captain. I should return to my guest chambers." For she needed to think and most of all a very strong drink.
"Once, I would have been hesitant to suggest such behavior from any House, but after our pleasant stay at Stonebridge, I find myself unable to maintain that rose-colored confidence, Milady," Jac says honestly, not about to lie to the woman if there is a threat to be had. "We will investigate, Milady… if there is indeed a sinister plot at hand against those traveling between the Roost and Highfield, it will be uncovered." He bows at her thanks, hands still behind his back. "If you require any help in preparing to make leave as well, Milady, I will send along a page to assist your maids."
"I do not fault honesty Captain Jac, particularly yours." A boasting praise from the Lady Charlton. She had listened a touch further before declining visibly, followed by a delicate tongue. "Thank you, and no. I was well prepared to depart this morning." Eager as ever. "We cannot reach Highfield soon enough." After a beat she says. "Captain." Before turning about, signaling her departure.
"Thank you, Milady," Jac says as he bows once more as she starts to depart. He will remain in the Reading Room for several long moments, looking out the window. Then he's off to fetch a page to find his blasted squire to start gathering up the rest of the Charltons.
