|Onward to the Pyke|
|Summary:||Jarod and Kamron consider what glory, and chances at vengeance, await them on the Pyke. Ser Rivers laments boats.|
|Related Logs:||Ironborn war logs in general|
|A ship in a non-storm|
|Wed Apr 04, 289|
Ser Jarod Rivers is spending his sailing voyage to the Pyke much as he spent the one to Harlaw Isle: hanging about near the side of the ship and looking generally green and miserable. He's not puking over the rail at the moment, at least, so there is that. The deck's less crowded now that night has set in, most of the Rivermen having retreated below-decks to be miserable there. So the Rivers knight is left mostly to his lonesome, watching the stars and silently willing to the voyage to end sooner. With limited success on the latter part of that.
Some knights are sailors before they are ever knights, however, and so at least a few of the Rivermen-mostly Mallisters, truth be told-are quite comfortable and at home aboat. Kamron Mallister is one of those, although he has doffed his arming jacket and settled for simple neutral-toned loose shirt against the off chance he finds himself over the rail. He says a few words to one of the few other men above-decks, and moves over toward the bastard of the Roost with a loose, rolling stride that has only grown more loose and more rolling the longer they've spent onboard the ship. As he approaches, he speaks up quietly, "Does it help to look up, Ser Jarod?" A hint of light teasing lurks behind the words, and his teeth are briefly visible behind a crooked grin.
"Folk keep telling me it's supposed to," Jarod replies wryly. "Look up, look at the horizon, chew fucking ginger root. Nothing's done the trick so far. Least the air's clear out here, though, and if I'm sick on my own boots I don't complain." He answers Kamron's grin with a greenish smirk. "How in seven hells do get used to being tossed about like this?"
Kamron shakes his head slowly, "Tossed around? I've -been- seasick before. It was when we were -really- being tossed around, by a storm blowing in off the deep sea. This is nothing, just a little light rocking." He bellies up to the rail—carefully upwind of the other knight in case things -do- get rocky. "Remember I told you that Talon Point overlooks a fishing village? My father had me go out on the boats when I was still a child, to learn what it was that the people did. I actually rather enjoy sailing." He gestures out toward the dark sea with one hand, "As for where to look, seems like everyone's different. Find the one that feels steady for you, and look there. I guess."
Jarod gives Kamron a level look when he belittles the non-storm they're currently traveling in, mutters something under his breath that's probably not particularly kind, and fixes his eyes on the stars again. That, at least, is a thing he hasn't deemed unhelpful. "Went swimming all the time off the coast near the Roost. Few ships in those parts, though. The fishing's done in smaller boats by the coastal folk. Most of what's earned from the land comes from the farms inland, though. Or at least it did, before the reavers wrecked across the countryside. I think I could do without ever setting foot on a boat again after all this is done. Give me a good horse. At least when they buck it's usually because you've done something to piss them off, which I can admire."
Kamron chuckles softly and holds up his hands in front of himself, "I wasn't trying to belittle your misery—honestly." Well, not entirely. Leaning against the rail again, he nods his head, "Even out here on the coast, most knights avoid the sea. I think it's something about sinking if they wear their armor." The chuckle is back at that, but he shakes his head, his voice lowering slightly to mingle into the slap and slosh of the chop below, "I spoke to Ser Gedeon. If Pyke hasn't fallen by the time we get there, we were thinking about seeing what we could do to draw King Robert's attention. Seize the first breach with our forces, find a Greyjoy to take in single combat, something along those lines."
"Maron Greyjoy's mine if my sword comes to him," Jarod says, firmly, like this is something that's rooted in his mind far deeper than any notion of drawing attention. There's a grimness about him as he says that which has little to do with seasickness. "It was him who led the reaving of the Roost, and killed my lord uncle, Ser Revyn Terrick. And countless others. For the rest of it, no objections to putting myself and my men hard and fast against the squids. Battle's madness, though. No guarantee you'll get to where the valor's being won."
Kamron chuckles, although there's a hard edge to the sound, "Only if you get to him first. I'd prefer Rodrik myself, but I'd be happy to avenge the Roost." He lets that slide past like the water below, however, continuing on, "Well, I was thinking, if the Mallister, Terrick, and Valentin men stand alongside one another, we could support one another, and maybe force a decisive moment even without one simply showing itself through the providence of the gods." He looks over at the other knight, "Ser Gedeon mentioned that Lord Nayland has requested you place your Terrick forces alongside his own, so he could watch over your squire."
"I am Lord Jerold Terrick's only son upon the Pyke. I'll make some effort to get to him first. I owe my father that much. His blood to bleed the Greyjoy who bled his land. We'll see how it plays, though." As to the bit about the Naylands, Jarod nods. "Aye." He looks less than comfortable with the notion. Though he looks less than comfortable in general at present. "It was a request Lord Rickart made to me at the Grey Garden. Couldn't think of a good reason to deny it. Rowan's his youngest son, and he's good with a blade, might do for the old Mire lord to see what his own can do on the field under our banner. Not that I'm precisely comfortable fighting so near Nayland men, but we've done it before with no incident. I figure…might even make things easier down the line. We bleed together here, men'll have a harder time bleeding each other over Stonebridge, if it comes to it."
Kamron nods his understanding of the personal nature of the feud, "Lord Jason may have only been a cousin of mine,after fighting alongside him, I feel a rather powerful need to avenge his death." Another nod, this time of agreement, follows the rest of the words, "I don't expect them to do anything foolish on the battlefield. Lord Rickart is a skilled commander, and Ser Bruce has trained their Guard well. I might suggest the Mallisters as the point of any assault we make then, with the Terricks and the Valentins guarding our flanks. That will draw the Naylands in as little as possible, so we have a leg up on them in King Robert's mind." He looks down to the water again, chuckling dryly, perhaps even a little bitterly, "This is all presupposing an opportunity though. If we're ordered the hold the line, then we damned well better hold the line, not go charging off."
"I doubt King Robert'll trust a Frey bannerman with much of the push on the Pyke," Jarod says. "I'm surprised Lord Rickart has the spine in him to bleed, in truth, being Twins-sworn as he is." Pleasantly so, though he admits is grudgingly. "But, aye. We'll fight where we're called to fight. And the men of Seagard can rely on the men of the Roost, as I hope they always have been able to. If I haven't said it before, I share your sorrow in Lord Jason's death. I remember when I first saw him as a boy when I went to squire at Seagard. Proud and fierce and noble, like a hero in a story come to life. He was one of the finest knights in the Seven Kingdoms, and that includes those wearing the whitecloak down in King's Landing."
Kamron nods slightly, "It worries me a little. That if we're aligned alongside the Naylands and the Freys that we may be nowhere near the main portion of the fighting." He chuckles soft and low, "Maybe I'll try to talk Martyn into requesting a more prominent role for the Mallisters and their bannermen. Lord Rickart can't take offense if King Robert or Lord Stark requests our presence elsewhere in the lines, now can he?" The more serious talk that follows sobers both chuckle and smirk, and he nods slowly, "I've never heard a Mallister claim any sort of greivance against the men of the Roost, Ser Jarod, and I never expect to either." Looking back out to sea, the Mallister man takes in a long, slow breath and lets it out, "As for Lord Jason… King Robert may be a fiercer warrior, and Lord Stark a more able commander, but he was both." His lips press together tightly for a moment, "I would even say he was the best the Riverlands have to offer. His presence here will be sorely missed."
"Lord Jason was right beside King Robert when he cut through Prince Rhaegar's bodyguards at the Trident," Jarod says. "Good King Robert remembers, I'm sure. He's not the sort of man to forget those he fought with. Aye. Your uncle's missed greatly upon the field. For my own part, I can't deny I wish I was following my lord father into battle, instead of leading his troops myself. He had to be back at the Roost, though. With the rebuilding, and the loss of his lady wife."
Kamron chuckles again, "Now I just hope that he'll remember that some of -us- were there with our late Lord, rather than with the Late Lord," somehow he makes the two sound different, "Or on the wrong side." The sailor-knight reaches out to clap the Rivers-knight on one shoulder, "You've been doing fine, so far as I can tell, Ser Jarod. Your men are in good shape, have fought well, and none of them has done anything untoward to helpless enemies, despite what happened to their homes."
"Aye. They're good men. Just hope I'm doing right by them, in some way my lord father could look well on," Jarod says. "Never really knew how much went into the ordering of it all. Back during the Rebellion it was just…march here, polish what your knight asks you to polish. I sort of miss it, truth be told. Those were simpler days."
Kamron shakes his head slightly, "I haven't heard any complaints, Ser Jarod. From soldiers or nobles. And that's all -I- could hope for if I were commanding. I'm sure your father'll be proud of you and yours when he hears of what you've done." He glances down at the waves once again, "I can't say that I miss the days of being a squire, but then again, that was just chasing bandits and Blackwoods for me. The Rebellion…" He shakes his head in a bit of wonder, "…that was a bit of a highlight for me. When there's nothing to fight-physically or whatever-things just sort of fade to gray a bit."
"I didn't mind the years of peace, myself, when I got back to the Roost and on as a sworn to Lord Jerold," Jarod says. "Got a bit restless, I'll admit. Think I started taking the place for granted before the Ironborn came. I wish chasing bandits and doing coastal patrols was all that was likely waiting back on our shores. Between whatever the hell Stonebridge'll be, and the state of the countryside even with the squids gone, I doubt you'll be too bored for awhile."
Kamron nods his head, "Exciting for me, bad for the people I'm supposed to be protecting. I'm quite willing to take years and years of boredom if it means that the people around me are safe." A smirk twists his lips, "Doesn't mean I have to -like- it, of course. I think that's the curse of being a knight. You're trained to fight, to strive and to challenge, but if you do your job right, you have nothing to fight, and you can only challenge those around you politically."
"Or go play on the tourney circuit for a few years," Jarod says, cracking a half-grin. "There are worse lots to have in the world, I figure, if you're serving the right lord. Politics I've little head for. But, fortunately, I'm just Rivers. I'll leave that nasty work to you noble sorts."
Kamron laughs softly, "Oh fuck yes there are worse lots to be had. Those poor bastards up on the Wall? Anyone who has to worry about where food's coming from tomorrow? I'll stick with the Ser, thanks." He frowns thoughtfully, "Tourneys are interesting, but I once heard a wise man say that it's not always the smartest idea to let everyone you might fight some day know exactly what you can do." The frown on the Mallister's face deepens, "…or something like that. I may've gotten the words mangled a bit."
"They're just games. No decent man goes in to kill another, save my accident," Jarod says. "When you face your enemies…well. That's something different." He takes a long breath in through his nose, looking slightly less green as he inhales the salt air. "No tourneys likely waiting for us on the Pyke, though. I think I might go below. See if I can get some sleep. Luck, I'll wake up and be off this seven-damned scow."
Kamron nods slightly, then chuckles at the words that follow the talk of tourneys, "Good luck with that, Ser Jarod." He looks up at the moon, "I should probably get some sleep myself. I've no idea how long we'll have ashore before we have to fight." Still, when he turns away from the other knight, it's toward the bow, rather then the ladder belowdecks.