|Oh The Places You'll Go|
|Summary:||Roslyn and Riordan meet with their father to discuss Stonebridge and the Terrick alliance.|
|Related Logs:||Any Terrick Alliance log. Riordan/Anais rumors.|
|Grand Hall — Fortress of the Sevens|
|The Grand Hall is furnished as one may expect for a family that has funneled their treasury towards more practical uses, though the room is certainly deserving of the name. This massive hall is large enough to host a feast for more than one hundred people and still seats the Lord's throne at the head of the room upon a dais. Black iron hangers hold a pair of silver, candle-lit chandeliers in a line from the main doors to the throne. Two doors lead off near the throne, one on each side of the head of the room while a spiral staircase has been built into the wall on one side by an armored door.|
|Thu May 31, 289|
Finally, Riordan and Roslyn have managed to speak to their father. For a second time. The first, as could be expected, didn't go so well, what with the mixed results of the Tournament. Riordan had expected the reaction, for while two of his sons had come away as Champions of the two main events, the Noble Ball had ended in a spectacle in front of their Overlords. And not in a good way. However, Riordan, as he had told his siblings he would, deferred explaining the specifics of that event to Rowenna and Rafferdy, and he took any verbal punches or blows he was due for the rumors regarding Anais, if any were to be had. And now he and Roslyn have reconvened with their beloved Father, to get to the important matter that was brought before him last time. The alliance with the Terricks. Among other things.
Riordan, for his part, is seated at at the table in the small room where they await there father, a tankard of Mire beer before him, as he looks at his sister. "Any last bits of advice?" he asks, his smile wry, but also warm.
"Do not throw anything," Roslyn replies quietly, her own humor only brushed along her words as she keeps watch on the door with a steady gaze, waiting. Her fingers are folded over her lap, no glass at all for herself, tension light in the line of her shoulders and the way she holds herself.
As is his wont, the Lord of the Mire is not silent in approaching the hall. His voice can be heard in its typically bombastic volume speaking with an attendant, and bootfalls are audible even before Rickart Nayland sweeps into the room. "Riordan, Roslyn, welcome back," he greets briefly, aged face drawing deeper lines with a brief smile as he steps toward his favorite chair.
"I make no promises, sister, other then that I do not intend to," Riordan tells his sister with a light chuckle. He knows his temper as well as their father… but having gotten out most of the shouting at the earlier meeting the other day, he expects this one will be slightly more pleasant. At least that is the hope. And then Rickart is arriving. "Lord Father," Riordan says, standing to show respect, and pouring his father a beer, to show his love. The smile on Rickart's face draws an easy on from the son, a larger and lopsided version of the old man's. He doesn't speak further, right now, rather waits to see if their father wishes to guide the conversation first.
Where Riordan seems to be content to let Rickart guide the conversation, Roslyn is not. She rises, her skirts sweeping in a practiced curtsey where she greets him with a polite, if warm, "Lord father." A pause. "Have you thought more on the Terrick matter, my lord?"
"Of course I have," Rickart returns with a shake of his head and huffed breath of mixed exasperation and amusement. Yet his initial answer is hardly of the diplomatic nature some might hope. He regards Riordan and quips, "I hope you do fuck the cripple's wife, my boy. A woman deserves to know a real man, some day." Which, in his crass manner, brings Rickart back onto the topic, "But you were asking of wedding a daughter of my House to a son of old Jerold's, my dear.. I've thought on that, too."
Though not terribly surprised that their father would make such a comment, Riordan was not expecting it now… and so it draws a surprised laugh from Riordan. Which he quickly tapers with a glance to Roslyn. Choosing to hide his face in his mug and take a long draw of the bitter and favored drink of the Nayland household, he remains silent for now, though it's clear he is eager to hear what Rickart has decided.
Roslyn certainly isn't amused by such a comment, but she says nothing of reproval to Rickart, of course. She only draws in a breath and waits, watching her father in a study.
"I'll agree to the old bastard's conditions, officially without reservation," Rickart allows, his voice making it clear that he has more to say. "But between we three, unless he names Roslyn, I'll delay my choice of his sons until we know whether Lord Groves will sell his grain to us, or to the Terricks." Gulping down a swallow of beer, he glances up between his children to note, "I mean to know exactly how much leverage I have over that puffed up old prick before committing my good name to a bargain."
"And we should make it clear to limit the wording, with your permission, to deny any attempts at making a match with Isolde or Rebecca," Riordan says, inclining his head at their father's judgement. "A Nayland woman of Nayland blood, of child bearing years, say," he suggests. As that takes Isolde off the list and the daughter of Rickart that is more Groves then Nayland, but also keeps Roslyn in play - old maid or not, she would still be considered child bearing. Their own mother is substantial proof of that. "Who would you have speak to Lord Jerold in your name for these future negotiations?" he then asks, attempting to keep his tone neutral. "With recent events and me being needed in Stonebridge, it is suggested I attend to my duties as Regent. However, Rutger has also been suggested as perhaps not the right fit for Terrick's court, and Roslyn, though likely the most diplomatic and charming, may well be part of these negotiations." It would hardly be mete to have someone negotiate their own betrothal, is his point. "Unless you wish us to lock you in a room with Terrick until you two can come to terms?" he quips, humor showing in his eyes.
"I do not believe you should, my lord father. The Lord Terrick must know that we would never agree to a betrothal with the Lady Isolde Nayland, but his conditions do not stop him from naming her," Roslyn reasons quietly, slowly, a glance cast briefly towards Riordan before her gaze returns. "Even if Riordan's limitations are accepted by Lord Terrick, we give him too much power. They need us. Instead, we should push to have him agree to a betrothal between myself and his son Justin. It is said that he fancies me, and it would sway his father." She draws to stand, nervous energy in the single gesture even if she does not pace. Merely, she places her fingers lightly on the back of her chair. "And if he didn't name me, what would delaying do? What difference would it make except to provide the Terrick with more reasoning to his rejection of us?"
Rickart snorts aloud at Riordan's suggestion. "to the first, no. The initial wording was loose enough that if I find his suggestion unsuitable, I may reject it. No need to pile on the caveats, or the worthless old shit will think I don't trust him." The jape is followed by a sharp laugh from the Lord of the Mire. He smiles proudly as roslyn states his own thoughts a moment before he himself does. "The purpose then, my dear, would be to remind Jerold of what you say: that he needs us. Lord Groves should decide soon enough, I expect a decision within another week. I'll name Justin Terrick now, if you prefer. But then I'm left delaying my final approval for up to a week. As for negitiation.." He scoffs again. "Why not Rutger? Has he gotten his ass thrown out of a Frey gathering too?"
Reminded of an earlier conversation with Roslyn that he had apparently forgotten, Riordan nods along with Roslyn's words as she reminds him of those points. However, as their father asks about Rutger, the younger of the Nayland knights spreads his hands, and says, "No, Father. Rutger maintained himself quite well, and even showed all humility to Ser Hosteen Frey." Despite the fact that it galled Rickart's eldest living son, his tone implies. "It is just that…" He pauses, cutting off his words as he glances to Roslyn for a second. And then he turns back and says to Rickart, "Forgive me father, my worries are likely unfounded. Should you send Rutger, I merely ask that you advise him to seek my counsel before he finds audience with Terrick, as mine with the Old Eagle went well enough, as a first meeting in this situation goes."
"Ser Jarod does not believe he would be—right to negotiate with Lord Terrick," Roslyn murmurs on answer, glancing to her brother in a bit of apology before she returns her gaze to their lord father. "Then what of me? I was not kicked from the Frey gathering, my manner is above reproach. Let Riordan deal with Stonebridge and Rutger deal with the Groves. If you allowed me, I could go myself to the Terricks."
"Jerold will deal with who I send him," Rickart notes a touch sharply. "What the old man;s bastard thinks of who ought represent my House matters less than a Dornishman;s promise!" he barks briefly, but ire settles soon after. "Roslyn, I will send you, but not alone. Even as excellent a lady as yourself will be disadvantaged in negotiating her own betrothal. No, I will send Rutger with you, my girl." Riordan's suggestion to let him counsel Rutger draws a smile to the old lord's face. "Why, is there something under Anais Terrick's skirts he should know about?"
Riordan had shot a look at Roslyn at her words, but didn't interject. He simply bows his head in acquiessance to their father's wishes… and then rolls his eyes good naturedly at the quip. "I would merely have him know what kind of attributes Lord Terrick favors. However, Roslyn will likely be able to counsel our sister better then I on such, so there is no need." He pauses, glancing to his sister then as he says to her, "Do not tarry overlong if you can help it, however, sister. I will need your advice as well, and there are a few important matters in Stonebridge I must handle that your counsel would be welcome on." Then, to their father, he asks, "There is one other matter I wish to speak to you on, father." And here he shares another brief look with their sister, before taking a breath and continuing on. "When her mourning period ends, should it please you for me to do such, I would pay court to the Lady Isolde."
"Of course. I have invitation to the Lady Rosanna Groves's picnic. I shall attend that, and then join my brother at Terrick's Roost. I hope it will not take long," Roslyn agrees quietly, finally folding neatly, politely onto her seat again. Her gaze draws to Riordan as he speaks, but she does not interrupt him.
"With good luck on our side, Lady Isolde will bear a healthy babe, and be fit to remarry before overlong, Riordan. Stable Nayland rule for another generation will be all the leverage we need to keep Stonebridge until the sun burns out like a spent candle." Drawing another swallow of the beer, Rickart nods to roslyn's picnic plans. "Very good, my girl. Very good."
Riordan bows his head to the affirmative given by their father. "Very well. I shall see to it, Father," he says to Rickart, quiet acceptance reigning on his features. "I believe that is all that we needed to bend your ear on," he then says, though he looks to Roslyn for confirmation of this fact. "And thank you for letting me remain here, away from my duty, long enough to celebrate my Nameday, Father. I will return to Stonebridge shortly, and take back up my post."
There is a quiet flicker of pleasure in Roslyn's reserved expression at her father's agreement, a distant smile tugging for a moment on her lips. But she nods her agreement to Riordan, saying, "Rutger has done all we can with the Groves and their surplus, and the matter of the Lady Danae will be handled when Riordan returns to Stonebridge and consults with our lord cousin. Nothing else need be discussed at the moment."
"Very good, very good," Rickart repeats exhaling a large breath, and turning aside to call for a fresh cup. "Despite it all, we've done rather well, my children. In spite of them all, here we are," he muses with a ready smile. "And if Jerold is too stingy to hold a tournament for his son's wedding, you can be damn well sure I will hold one for my daughter's."
"Who had better appoint a certain brother of her's as her champion," Riordan says, with a wink at Roslyn, drawn back to good cheer, at the prospect of a tournament. Even if the good humor is slightly tempered by all the talk of marriage.
"I am certain I could find appropriate champions to defend my honor," Roslyn replies lightly, that distant look fading away where she pulls herself back to the present to favor both her father and her brother with warm smiles. "We will do better, and reach farther. They do not know how far we will go."