Page 262: Opportunities
Summary: On the island of Pyke, Ser Gedeon gets some interesting offers from Naylands, of all people.
Date: 08/04/289
Related Logs: None, directly.
Rutger Gedeon Martyn Senna 
Wilderness — Pyke Isla
The inhospitable coast and cliffs outside Castle Pyke
8 August 289

As the siege here on the Pyke continues, men come to and fro from the lines. Amongst a gaggle of courtier knights in their various colours armors, is one Rutger Nayland, moving albeit a bit slowly than the others. Followed by his squire and an Armsman in Nayland wear, the Knight is making a detour from heading towards the central area of camp, and is instead angling his way along towards where the Riverlanders have made their own space.

Eyes catch the glows of fires, and his nose the scent of food cooking. A mild frown before he is looking back towards the poor man at arms with him. "How long have you all been eating that? It smells like an eel's miscarr-" the rest is lost as he pauses looking for a banner trying to figure which camp he is indeed entering.
Martyn has partially disconnected.

There are a couple banners up in the area, if only because one of them belongs to a house too small to claim the entire chunk of space. A device of Oldstones waves above a cluster of tents, the men settled around some of those campfires that are emanating those oh so aromatic aromas. Among them, one blond knight who is speaking to a few of the men, nodding, chuckling at something else that's said. A few of those heads turn for Rutger's pronouncement, and Gedeon Rivers arches a singly brow. He watches the Nayland, but says nothing just yet.

Making his way back from the lines at the moment, Martyn looks to be rather tired at the moment. Moving slow, back in the direction of the Mallister part of camp, he mutters something under his breath now. Pausing before he reaches his own part of the camp, as he notices Rutger, he reamains where he is at the moment. Eyes on the Nayland for the moment, a bit thoughtfully.

Very few women followed the soldiers to the Iron Isles. There's being a camp follower, and then there's just plain folly, and the Iron Isles are just plain folly. That means that there is a good deal of work for Senna to do, as both a woman and a healer. The up side is that with healers in short supply, people are willing to pay dearly for their services. Of course, when she ducks out of a tent, it's only the traces of blood on her hands that suggest she's been doing that rather than the other coin-worthy task of a woman in an armed camp.

Whether or not he is being stared at because he is a Nayland, or because he is whom he is, Rutger seems to keep his normal casual composure. There is no tightening of jaws, or seeming awaredness of all the eyes upon the Nayland heir. A slight pause goes as he looks back towards Martyn for a moment, before eyes are upon the device marking him in Oldstones territory. A pause and he nods before he is looking back over to the Blond knight and his men.

"Ser Rivers." said with an amused look on his face, before he is moving directly for his path. One arm out and offered the other knight. "I am glad to see you made it out of that charnel house that was the bailey in one piece." There's a glance to his Armsman who seems tense, but with a shrug, Rutger is continuing. "Do you mind if I share your fire for a moment? I've been on my feet under the wall all day. A little rest would feel fine." It appears that Ser Nayland, doesn't notice Senna's approach, for the most part.

Gedeon makes note as Martyn arrives and then one of the few females in their camp. (And, really, Gedeon is hardly the only one whose eyes trail Senna for a moment as she appears.) But then he's being directly addressed, and he considers Rutger Nayland as the man approaches. Ser Rivers is even good enough to clasp Rutger's arm. "Lord Nayland," he offers politely, "Are you? Considering the views of your family, I confess I find that a little surprising. But certainly, if you can stomach the taste of miscarried eel, sit you down and be welcome."

Still studying Rutger for a few moments, Martyn then shrugs a bit, stepping the rest of the way over in the direction of here Gedeon and Rutger are, moving a bit slowly for now. Offering the two of them a bit of a nod. "Lord Nayland, Ser Rivers. How are you two today?" he offers, a bit politely. Otherwise keeping quiet for the moment, though.

Senna stops to squirt a solution from a waterskin onto her hands, carefully trying to work the blood out of her cuticles in her usual, fastidious manner. Only once that's accomplished does she look back up, catching a few of those gazes and meeting them with smiles or stares in return, judging each man for his own potential. And then she looks toward the fire, clearing her throat before calling over. "Ser Rivers. Do you know who's looking after Master Donovan here?" she asks, pointing a thumb toward the tent she left.

Rutger grins back as his clasp is matched. "My family, you must understand is looking out for the interests of my late brother and his widowed wife, your half sister.." the knight states, "It is not personal, to me at least. I am merely doing my duty to their end." Rutger allows a faint chuckle before nodding. "Aye, I can, but the crownlanders have been spoiling me on pork and mutton." also a tuber of potato quality, but that is unsaid. "And most recently a squid's sword." There's a small frown on his face, but it vanishes quickly. A nod is given to Martyn as he arrives. "Lord Mallister." he intones. And then an amused grin crops up as he spies Senna. "Mistress, Delacourt."

"My Lord," Gedeon greets Martyn with a nod. "Well enough, thank you, though eager enough to have the Pyke taken and return home. I expect that's true for all of us, though." There are a few nods and murmurs of agreement from the other men around the fire. To Rutger, he says, "Well, naturally, those serving with the Crownlands would be a bit spoiled, wouldn't they. I hope you're not letting the luxury soften you too much, my lord." For his mention of Isolde, Gedeon sighs softly. "Would that she were my half-sister, though I feel a bond of kinship with her, even so." And then, calling over to Senna as he is addressed, Gedeon returns, "Master Farlow said he'd see to him. How's Donovan faring, mistress?"

"We all feel that eagerness, Ser Rivers," Martyn offers, before he looks to Rutger at the mention of the food. "No wonder they needed us to come here to help take the castle, then. Do they have time for warfare in between the meals?" Spoken with a bit of a grin, before he looks over to Senna. "Mistress Delacourt," he offers. "You found your way out here after all?"

"My lord," Senna sinks into a curtsey at Rutger's greeting, one that wouldn't be out of place in a castle hallway but certainly doesn't quite fit the wet and rocky shores of Pyke. Still wiping her hands on a cloth, she moves toward the group. "Master Donovan lost a lot of blood," she answers Gedeon. "But he should keep the arm. Master Farlow will need to make sure he gets plenty of fluids. Broth should be fine." There's a flicker of a smile for Martyn's question. "With some of the resupply, yes. Haven't you heard? It's bathing in blood that keeps a woman's skin firm and clear, and no better place for it right now."

"I know it has been true for us to the South and the West. King Robert has not rested till we threw them back. I doubt he'll be pleased until we've gutted our way through all of the Greyjoys in order to get Balon to bend the knee." Rutger states agreement with Gedeon. As the Rivers gets a nod he does each out to place a hand on the young man's shoulder. " I know the bonds one can share with a sibling. Right now my youngest is off somewhere where as I have lost my oldest brother and dearest friend." Again the frown threatens through, before Rutger is clearing his throat. " I pray you get to see Isolde when we return. She needs family around her right now." he adds. "And if Lady Valda should complain, I can see to her." generosity and sincere at that.

A glance is spared Martyn, before he is offering a half smile. " I suppsoe you can ask Bronze Royce that if you are serious Ser. I heard how the siege went on Harlaw." a look given to Martyn. " I'm glad they chose to surrender despite whatever mistrust they felt." A turn and he spits something out of his mouth. Hand coming up to catch his tongue beofre nodding "Pardon me. I am also tardy in my condolences, Ser Mallister. Lord Jason was a good man. I wish he was here with us now."

For Senna a smile is passed as he bows his head. "I'd listen to her, Ser Rivers, she got my side as right as there is rain here on this island."

"I am well familiar with the Mistress Delacourt's tender care," Gedeon informs Rutger calmly, though he spares a slightly too-long glance on that hand that clasps his shoulder. "We shall see, when we're returned home, what comfort I might be able to offer my once-sister. I do not know how much she still considers me family, these days." He leans forward and away from Rutger's hand, though perhaps that's only so he can speak to Senna without needing to shout. "Thank you, mistress, and if Donovan hasn't given you his thanks as well, I'll extend another in his stead. I'll make sure Farlow understands your instructions."

At the mention of the siege on Harlaw, Martyn's expression hardens for a few moments, before he nods a little, "Yes, that was quite fortunate. Thankfully they did, which saved us a lot more bloodshed there." At the condolences, he offers a momentary smile. "He truly was. I think most people around here would have wanted him here now. Thank you, Lord Nayland." He then offers a bit of a grin at Senna's words. "Ah, knew you women had a trick for it…"

"I'm beginning to think I've done stitchery on half the forces," Senna smiles faintly at Rutger's words, considering her fingers and brushing at a chapped spot on her hands. The constant washing and rinsing has not been kind to her hands. Maybe she should just let the blood soak in. "Thank you, Ser Rivers," she nods to Gedeon. "Luckily, the bleeding is the worst of it. The vessels run close to the skin there. He should be in fighting shape zoon."

What It's not as if he put his hand around Gedeon's neck, or such. Still when the young man leans forward, he reaches his hand off of Gedeon's shoulder with a faint pat, before it is sliding down to rest upon his sword belt. There's a shift so as not to be so close to the Oldstones knight,as if following some unwritten cue given by the other. "As for your once sister, I hope better comfort than I can give. When I last left the Riverlands she was holed up in her room with sickness from being with child, I suppose." There's a slight shrug "I hope she won't hole herself up with grief this time."

Rutger catches the look, but there is no smirk to come with the other man's uncomfortableness. " I know the King thought highly of him, from what he has said to me. I did not know him well, but his deeds and loyalty to King Robert speaks volumes. I wish I could have been at Seagard with the rest of my house to help." Despite all the things Rutger may or may not be, he certainly can be polite and honest if he wants.

"Your poor hands, or eyes. Seven know you've probably seen some hideous sights, beyond the wounds I mean." The Nayland lord teases, before he is looking back towards Gedeon. "Ser Rivers, part of my being here, besides being summoned by my Lord father, is that I was hoping to run into you. I was going to request your company for dinner. I feel that this Stonebridge business has put ill waters between us. I would like to remedy that, no matter how the King decides on this issue." There that's done with he's looking back to Senna. "Mistress Delacourt. I have one evening patrol tonight. I do hope I can come by after and have you check my progress? I admit to being on my feet sooner than you recommended, and I hope I haven't fucked my side worse."

Gedeon glances over at Senna, a corner of his mouth lifting for 'stitchery on half the forces'. He is, of course, far too much of a gentleman to inquire what it is she's done for the other half. "I thank you again, then, mistress, for Donovan's life." There is another smile, a little more pen but rather sad, as Martyn speaks on the late Lord of Seagard. "He was the best of us," the blond knight agrees somberly. His attention drifts, then, back to Rutger, listening to the other man's friendly words and very friendly offer of a meal. "My lord," he begins calmly, "If you've something you should like to discuss with me, I should be pleased to hear it. But you must forgive my wariness for all of this sudden, brimming kindness you offer; I would not currently feel at ease dining with you."

"Your words are appreciated, Lord Nayland," Martyn replies, before he nods both to Rutger, Gedeon and Senna. "I fear I have a few things to take care of at the moment, so I hope the three of you will excuse me for now…"

"I've no plans for this evening, my lord," Senna dips her chin to Rutger, knees flexing in a slight curtsey. There's a nod for Martyn as well as the man takes her leave, and she takes half a step back, not quite dismissing herself from the conversation.

"I understand your wariness, but please know you have nothing to fear. After all if you believe rumors, then you are the wrong sex for my own tendacies." A frown there, small displeasure, but still Rutger nods. "Well I would like time to discuss this with you, further. Perhaps a drink then? Despite kindness for a brother in arms being odd. Allow me this one, Ser?" A raised brow there for a moment before he nods towards Martyn. "Of course, Lord Mallister. Seven guide your steps." offered before he looks back to Gedeon awaiting a response.

"Good. I shall see you then. If you both may excuse me, I do need to understand why I have this tag along with me." A nod to the armsman before he is heading along himself. There is a pause though, as he looks back towards Gedeon. "I know, Ser-you have no reason to trust me. But, I do mean my words with you, and am not nearly the bastard I am painted to be." A tip of his head. "Come and find me when you wish to talk, I am currently camped with the others of the King's court. I can introduce you to a few of the other knights if you like?" He let's that hang before moving on.

Gedeon offers Martyn a nod as he departs and an easy, "Good day to you, my lord." As Rutger also stands to depart, the blond bastard adds, "As I said, I am more than willing to speak further with you. Until then." And then he glances towards Senna who seems to be the only one of his current conversation partners who's not yet in a rush to leave.

"And to you," Martyn replies, both to Rutger's words, and the ones of Gedeon. He then starts heading off toward the Mallister tents, moving a bit slowly at the moment.

Senna watches the others depart from beneath her lashes, features composed as glass, if far more opaque. It's only once they're gone that she looks up again, summoning up a small smile for Gedeon. "Opportunities await, Ser Rivers," she murmurs, looking after Rutger with a faint arch of her brow. "A bit overconfident of him, inviting you to the King's tents, isn't it?"

"A bit ballsy to invite me to dine with him in public if he's some plot to make sure I never return home again," Gedeon replies around a faint smirk. "Come, Mistress, would you sit a spell and rest? take something to eat? We haven't the feast the crownlands apparently do, but we've fish that are cooked and hot. And a few that are raw, if you wish some oil for your hands." He glances down toward said hands, dry and cracked as they are.

"Oil would be a blessing," Senna admits with a soft sigh, rubbing her hands together as she approaches the fire. "It's been some time since I found myself treating so many men in a row that I didn't have time to let my hands recover. It's good for business, but there won't be business if my hands don't work." She adds a small smile for the men around the fire as she joins them, grateful. "But no, I wouldn't worry about being poisoned in the king's own tent. More wonder what potential embarrassment might await."

"Is war making you a wealthy woman, mistress?" Gedeon asks, his mouth curled up in a teasing smile. "I don't suppose you've any advice, cleverly gleaned while you were sewing Lord Rutger shut?"

"I wouldn't say wealthy," Senna chuckles, shaking her head. "There aren't many men carrying coin here, and I'm not foolish enough to take more of it than I can keep safe. But favors, promises, goods in trade…These are all useful things for someone who prefers a little independence to laundry duty." She shifts her skirts a bit as she settles in, rubbing at a stain on one hem. "I can't say Lord Rutger shares his plans with me, Ser Rivers. But if he's confident enough to essentially grant you a chance to argue your case just as he's had? Then I can't help but think there must be something else as well."

"Certainly there's something more," Gedeon agrees with a small thoughtful nod. "It's one thing to be civil, quite another to be… chummy. Either he wants something he thinks I can help him get or, as you say, it's an opportunity to undermine me, somehow. Still… I am curious what sort of game he's playing. I'll go see him, I expect."

"Of course you will. Because it's an opportunity too good to resist." Senna's smile is crooked as she lifts one shoulder, an idle sort of shrug. "Such are the games you'll need to play if you win out, either way." Her gaze sharpens on the young knight, more specifically on his midsection. "Any trouble from the wound now?" she asks, glancing back up to his face.

He shakes his head, "Not there. Not really. I find I'm more prone to colds, coughs, the like these days. I suppose there's a toll to pay for three rounds of firemilk and an infection. Now," Gedeon muses, "is that genuine concern or the pragmatic interest of a studious healer?"

Senna chuckles softly, tapping a finger to the end of her nose. "Women keep secrets, Ser Rivers, and it's terribly rude to ask after them. Perhaps I only wish to return the favor of you offering a seat at your fire with a little bit of care." Her smile curves as she looks around the fire, a glint of humor in her eyes. "Though I'm sure it's a terrible hardship for you and your men to have a woman at the fire for a change."

"It's your enormous girth," Gedeon replies somberly. "Forces the rest of us to scrunch up in a corner while you get the choicest seat." Grinning a little, he adds, "We will yet save you a place by the fire in Oldstones, should you find you wish it."

Senna arches a brow at the answer. "Isn't that my line?" she drawls, drawing it out for the humor. "You make a kind offer," she says after, dipping her chin. "But for now, I'm comfortable with where I stand. The Naylands did me a great service at the Trident, and I owe them something for that. Still," she sighs softly. "This has been a very different experience than that was."

He laughs for Senna's joke, smirking as the chuckles ebb. "Clever," Gedeon approves. "How has it be different, for you, I mean? I assume you're referring to more than the locale."

"Ah, well." Senna pauses as one of the men passes over the promised oil, making a soft sound under her breath as she starts to smooth it over her hands. And hey, if the slow show keeps the men at the fire happy and not focusing on her words, all the better, right? "At the Trident, I was all of eighteen. Didn't know much of anyone except my father, didn't have quite the same skills I have now. I was afraid, I was all but alone, and I didn't know how to protect myself alone. Now? Now I know a good deal more than I did then. And whatever people may say of the Naylands, being a part of their entourage means much more than being the daughter of a failed tourney knight."

"Being part of any entourage will offer some protection," Gedeon allows. As the men pluck their fish from above the fire, most of them drift off towards their tents, though a couple linger, with hopeful gazes on Senna. "As will being older, wiser, more cunning."

Senna lifts a hand, shifting it from side to side. "Perhaps," she allows. "Though with Lord Rickart leading so much of this, it holds a little something more to be in the Nayland entourage. Besides," she continues, dabbing a little more oil into a chapped spot, not quite hiding her wince, "It's one of the more well-ordered forces. And I rather appreciate that." There's a small smile for the lingering men, though no promise in it. "I haven't heard much of Lord Anton of late. Was he injured?"

"If he was injured, wouldn't you have heard a great deal of him?" Gedeon points out, brows lifted playfully. "No, he's well. I think he's just trying to let me step into the sunlight a little, gain some notice or glory or… well, whatever I can grab. But he's doing his duty, same as the rest of us."

Senna laughs. "Fair enough," she agrees. "It seems there aren't nearly enough maesters to be had here, and some people just don't have the good grace to die of their wounds before they can be treated." She arches a brow then, teasingly. "And you've been holding back on the glory-gathering out of modesty, then?"

"Opportunity is not a lengthy visitor, and often arrives rather late to the party. My chance, if it's coming at all, hasn't been spotted yet, how gracious of you to notice, mistress," Gedeon answers with a smirk and a shake of his head. "But I do mean to take advantage of it when it does."

"Consider me opportunity's herald," Senna suggests with a faint smile. "He comes, but not for long. This war is coming to a close soon. The Ironborn have holed up, and all the might of the mainland stands against them. I'm not sure exactly what Greyjoy ever thought he was going to get out of this in the long run, but he's finding now that there will be little enough in the end. And unlike the Disputed Lands, wars are few and far between here."

"If you are staunchly in the Naylands' camp, I'm not sure what you get out of telling me this," Gedeon answers, regarding Senna thoughtfully, "except, perhaps, some sort of heroic attempt that's as like to leave me dead as famous."

Senna's lips quirk as she leans forward, setting her elbows on her knees and clasping her hands together. "A more interesting fight, at least," she murmurs, amused. "And perhaps I have a different view of what brings the Naylands success than they do. Perhaps I think there are dangers in overreaching one's grasp and falling short."

"And do you think they've fallen short with Stonebridge?" Gedeon murmurs, matching Senna's posture and leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees.

"I think I'm not exactly qualified to make that judgement," Senna answers diplomatically, smile faint. "But I think if you put up a decent fight and lose, then they'll hold it more securely than if you give it half an effort and then fade off into obscurity."

"Ah, I see. So, let's make it a good fight. An interesting a noteworthy fight, and hopefully a fight I'll lose, ultimately," Gedeon murmurs, resting his chin on his palm. "I admire the way your mind works, even if said mind does refuse to work for me."

Senna tilts her head to one side, considering. "I'm not sure I hope that you'll lose," she muses. "After all, if you win, then the attempt to take Stonebridge wasn't strong enough to hold in the end, and you're doing the Naylands a favor anyhow. And," she continues, smile curving again, "Having Stonebridge under someone else's control will certainly give me plenty of excuses to visit. And I rather like getting out of the Mire now and then."

Gedeon chuckles softly, and if he doesn't look entirely convinced of Senna's magnanimous goals, he at least doesn't look especially put out, either. As the last of the men slip away from the fire, giving up hope on Senna slipping into their tent with them for a different sort of healing, the blond knight sighs and straightens. "I should find Farlow and look in on Donovan if I can't. Thank you again for his care. Keep the oil."

"The benefits of being unimportant," Senna sighs softly as she stands, "Are sometimes that it's much the same to you, no matter who's on top." She pauses, smile deepening at one corner. "Much like being a whore, really." And with that and a wink, she moves away from the fire. "Take care, Rivers."

Gedeon opens his mouth, but Senna reaches the punchline before he does, and he just laughs. "Take care, Mistress Delacourt," he replies in kind before pushing to his feet and going off in search of Farlow.