Page 025: Pleasant Chats
Pleasant Chats
Summary: Terrick-and-a-Half and their various guests engage in them. Nobody is stabbed or eaten by a lion.
Date: 06/08/288
Related Logs: Minus the Whores This Time and etc.
Rygar Jarod Lucienne Anais Caytiv 
Entrance Hall — Four Eagles Tower
RThe Entrance Hall is more than two dozen feet high with ornate columns hefting the fresco ceiling above all. Plush seating is arranged around one side for visiting nobility while the other has less comfortable slab stone or wood benches for the peasantry. Alcoves dot the walls for more private discussions and sworn Guards patrol this hall at all times and especially during court. Several hallways and doorways lead off to different areas of the castle with a spiral staircase carved neatly into one corner that winds its way up.
Sat Aug 06, 288

Rygar Nayland had arrived the prior evening. The think knight has passed the time while awaiting audience in unhurried walks throughout the free areas of the castle, often favoring the view from the castle's parapet. Yet now, the emissary of the Nayland family is seated, back straight and head held high in an alcove to one side of the Entrance hall.

Jarod strolls into the entrance hall in step with Lucienne. The pair of them appear to be in search of their Nayland guest. And there he is. "This should be interesting, if nothing else," he mutters to his sister as he heads Rygar-wards. Offering the knight another of those somewhat stiff half-bows. "Ser Rygar. Hope you're finding Terrick hospitality up to standard. "Have you met my sister? If not, I present the Lady Lucienne Terrick."

"Shhh," bids Lucienne to Jarod's muttering, concerned it may be yet audible to the Nayland knight. She frowns gently, gradually schooling her expression to something warmer as they approach Rygar. Hers is a curtsy, deep a graceful, though she allows the knight the honor of speaking first his greeting.

Rygar turns his cold blue eye toward the approaching footsteps of Terrick-and-a-half. Rising from his seat as a Lady approaches, the stern knight returns the sharp bow offered him. "Lady," to Lucienne. "Ser," and a second short bow to Jarod. "Your House gives me no cause for complaint, Lady. Ser," he addresses the full blooded noble first. "You approach with purpose. Shall we sit, or have you word of my audience?"

"Thank you," Jarod says. He'll take the seat, though he waits for Lucienne to sit first. "I haven't word. My lord father is much occupied with Lord Valentin, and with the preparations for Young Lord Jaremy's marriage to the Lady Banefort, so his day is most pressed."

"If there is anything further that would ease your time with us, do mention it," encourages the lady, summoning a demure smile for the Nayland. Lucienne gestures for Rygar to sit back down, and drops herself fluidly into a chair opposite. "It is, of course, a busy time for our House," she adds on the heels of Jarod's reply. "And most regrettable that we should keep you waiting." Eyes slide meaningfully wide to her half brother.

"No doubt," Ryar answers Jarod's explanation for Jerold's occupation. The Nayland keeps his feet until Lucienne is seated, then reclaims his own seat in the alcove. "I had the good fortune to speak with Lord Valentin earlier," he notes with a typically chill manner. "I bear a letter for your brother, the Young Lord Jaremy. If word of this might be taken to the young Ser, I would thank you."

"Lord Valentin is an interesting man. I think mostly because he's known so little. Well, he knows how to hit very well, I'll give him that, and we're honored to have him as our guests for a time. Him and his people." There's some emphasis on the last part of that, though Jarod doesn't bring up the issue of who those people are right off. To Rygar, he nods. "Aye, Ser, we can tell him."

Lucienne's eyes flick keenly back to Rygar as he mentions speaking with the Lord Valentin. Transparent interest, though she asks not. She adds her nod to Jarod's aquiescense. "An audience with the Young Lord Jaremy may be easier to come by," says she softly. "If it would please you, we might convey the business of your audience to our Lord Father?"

Rygar nods curtly to Jarod's offer to pass the message to Jaremy. On the subject of Anton, he notes, "I found his insights into the duties of a Lord and Knight most telling, in fact." His steady stare then turns aside to Lucienne. "I had thought it might. The nature of the desired discussion is the Tordane Letters, Lady."

"What were Ser Anton's insights, if I may ask?" Jarod inquires of Rygar. "Need as much help in my own duties as I can get, after all." When the Tordane Letters are actually mentioned, his manner grows less outwardly casual. "Aye, Ser. We figured that was what brought you here."

The lady blinks long at the mention of those letters, saying far more than any words could; chagrin. When her lashes flutter back open, they reveal her eyes still fixed upon Rygar. There is nothing for her to add just yet, having acknowledged the Nayland's business, so she remains quiet for the men to speak.

"If I understand His Lordship correctly, it is his opinion that a knight's obligation is to matter of the present, while the duty of a Lord fixes his sight upon the future. I look forward to discovering which of the two shall drive the Knight of Oldstones," Rygar voices evenly to Jarod on the subject of Anton. On the letters, "It is one cause among three, Ser. And in truth, the least of the lot."

"Duty of a knight is service, I've always taken it," Jarod says to that. "In defense to those he's sworn to, and those who cannot defend themselves. And to do so with honor." He looks over at Lucienne, then puts his focus back on the Nayland knight. He leaves it to Lucienne to ask what other causes there might be, though he looks most curious.

Lucienne is not a knight, of course, so the business of knightly duties is not something she feels qualified to comment on. Convenient, really. It gives her a chance to better study Rygar Nayland and his unwaverable manner. "The letters you seek to deliver to Young Lord Jaremy, and those to squire Rowan Nayland," she guesses in her quiet tone. "Or is there other business you seek to attend here?"

"The Ser is not mistaken," Rygar voices on the subject of knighthood. "Obedience is a most knightly virtue. Yet, in service a knight's decisions govern his own fate. He- by necessity- obeys the choices of his Lord, or defies them. Whereas upon the choices of a Lord turn the fates of entire familes, peoples.. even Realms. A knight may serve his conscience, while a Lord is beholden to the greater good." Again turning his keen regard upon the Lucienne, "The Lady is correct. I shall have words with my good cousin, deliver the writ from my Lord and Lady of Stonebridge, and discuss the minor question of Lord Geoffrey's letters."

"True enough, Ser. Though one must pray one's own conscience isn't wrong, which can be a dodgey matter," Jarod says. He grins as he does, albeit in a decidedly self-deprecating fashion. There's still that underlying seriousness about him, however. "Someone in Stonebridge does not seem to think them such a trifling matter, Ser. Someone attempted to poison Ser Gedeon - and inadvertently your good cousin - over the matter of them. Or so it seems plain to me. I've not had words with the poisoner. Is this matter under investigation by the law of Stonebridge?"

Lucienne is saved once again from speaking by her good brother, whom she looks to as he questions Rygar. If only to avoid meeting the Nayland's scrutiny for any longer than she must.

"One must always be sure of one's conscience, Ser," Rygar states with his typical stiff dignity to Jarod's grinning comment. As to the poisoning, "The judgment of any who would undertake so vile an act as what befell Ser Gedeon, and my good cousin is clearly not to be trusted. The letters have no weight, Ser. They are unsealed, and their contents- even if issued under the late Lord Tordane's authority, are illegal to carry out. It is a plain and direct matter, Ser."

"Men die over trifles each day, Ser, I'll grant you. But they rarely kill over something they, at least, think carries no weight. Someone thinks them worth killing over." Jarod and Lucienne are sitting with Ser Rygar. Having a pleasant chat. Which Jarod is making slightly less pleasant right now.

Anais left Four Eagles fairly early in the morning with her usual retinue of Banefort guards and knights and sisters and ladies-in-waiting. Which could explain why she looks vaguely relieved upon her return to the tower, trailing only one younger brother-cum-squire. Overhearing the topic of conversation, she pauses near the entryway, reaching a hand to Caytiv's shoulder in a tacit hold to take a better gauge of the situation.

And which Lucienne is doing her best not to inflame. "What I'm sure my dear brother means," she pipes up, switching her big brown eyes imploringly back to Rygar, "Is that we would not seek any breaking of the law, Ser Rygar. We only would wish the truth of the matter, and justice for your good cousin and the knight of Oldstones." A beat. "As, we are certain, would you."

"I agree entirely, Ser," Rygar states, an edge barely audible in his nearly level voice. "And what does that say if the letters carry no weight to Stonebridge? Be assured that the honorless cur who undertook such a deed shall suffer mortally for bringing harm against a noble, as well as an anointed knight." None should be surprised that Rygar's chief grievance is with the poisoning of Rowan. The chill knight's severe manner holds ythrough his next words, "There are all too many cowards and wretches in Westeros, Ser. It would be a mistake to judge that the acts of one such villain change the truth of my words upon the Tordane letters." A fresh breath drawn, as Lucienne interjects. His eye goes again to Jarod, "Lord Valentin has said that Ser Gedeon advances no claim on his own behalf. As I know the Terricks would not stoop to rewriting an inconvenient law, as your good sister has said-" A dip of his head to Luci, "I presume the question of the letters is a moot one, Ser."

Caytiv has managed most of the blood stains into a more muted hue down the back of his shirt, and his hair bears the look of someone who's washed it in salt water, arguably clean but somewhat matted. He's in escort of his sister, and yet she seems the warier of them to the tone of the conversation they're about to walk through. Still, he yields as she holds him back, looking to her with brows raised curiously before he turns his attention back to those in the hall.

"Aye," Jarod mutters, exchanging a look with Lucienne, exhaling, then focusing back on Rygar. "I intended no disrespect to you, Ser, and I apologize if I conveyed it. I know you to be a man of honor." He pauses, as if he is going to end it there. But then he speaks on. "When I said in Stonebridge that I knew your face I meant from longer ago than the nonsense at Rockcliff. I remember how you fought at the Trident, Ser. Even though you didn't have to, as your family sent no banners to either side. I recall very little of the day, but you fought clean and well, and you gave mercy to the men who yielded against you. Anyhow. I've thought on it much lately, so I figured I may as well say it while you were in our house. Whatever brings you."

Anais reaches up to quickly fingercomb Caytiv's hair, flashing a brief smile at her brother when she settles back down. There's a brief squeeze of his hand, one more smile, and she takes a breath to continue into the hall. "Lady Lucienne," she calls, her polite face in place. "Ser Rygar. Ser Jarod. I hope you're all doing well this evening?" she asks, clasping her hands lightly in front of herself.

Caytiv gives his sister a faint but warm-hearted smile and lets her go on a step or so ahead, but stays close to her side, folding his arms behind his back for a look aiming halfway between unimposing and stalwart. He doesn't say anything, but once she's come to a stop somewhere he'll hunch his shoulders and dip his head in an artless bow to the assembled nobility.

Lucienne joins her hands together atop the table, thinking carefully on how she chooses to word her next. Quietly, patiently, she waits for Jarod and Rygar to finish their interchange, her expression varying slightly as is appropriate. The audible inhale of a breath signals that she intends to speak, and it is th Nayland that she addresses: "I would assure you, Ser Rygar, that we do not intend to break the law regarding this matter. Be there no truth to the content of these letters, it will be found so and nothing more will come of it. Be it otherwise, it is not for our House to act upon. I would that you -" Anais' call cuts into her sentence, and the Lady Terrick swings her head to place it. A smile forms, and a hand lifts - a wave, but is it an invite, or a bid wait?

Rygar nods sharply once as Jarod offers his apology for a percieved slight. With those words given, the stern Nayland does not slacken his posture, but does sit further back in his seat, accepting the change of topics without further comment. The new topic earns a moment's pause before Rygar answers- the only outward indication he might be surprised by the words- "As I said before, Ser: a knight must be certain of his conscience." A dip of his head acknowledges the compliment. Then the Lady Banefort and her entourage approach, and the Nayland rises again to his feet. "Lady," with a curt bow of the head and shoulders. His cold eye does not stray aside to note Caytiv's awkward courtesies. Keeping his feet until Anais sits or departs, he answers Lucienne standing. "One thing I have never had cause to doubt is the best intentions of the Terricks, Lady."

Jarod dips his head back to Rygar. That seeming to be all he has to say on the topic. At Anais and Caytiv's entrance he rises and offers the Lady Banefort a quick bow. One still lacking in its usual flourish, but it gets the job done. "Lady Anais. Young Master." He offers a nod, and quick boyish grin, to Caytiv. "Well enough. You two still finding the Roost to your liking?"

Anais hesitates a moment at Lucienne's gesture, marring her smile for just a moment by catching the inside of her cheek between her teeth. "Of course, Ser Jarod," she nods to the knight, smile resettling into more comfortable lines. "I was just showing Caytiv the beach, actually. Might we join you?" she asks, looking between the faces. "Unless you're discussing matters of import, of course. I was thinking it past time I send a letter home to Father, as well."

Oh, that's Ser Jarod. Caytiv looks at him long enough to process together the things he's been told about him with his appearance, and returns the grin readily enough, though he restrains his answer to a rough, "Ay, Ser," still standing with arms folded behind him by his sister's side and a half-step or so behind.

An invite, apparently, given the rise of her companions. Lucienne joins them on her feet, going so far as to shift a seat over as a gesture of goodwill toward Anais and Caytiv. "Please, do." Join. "We were only reassuring Ser Rygar that we already see eye to eye upon his business here. Good fortune, of course - you'll have more time to enjoy our hospitality and the view rather than hole yourself up in the throne room, Ser." Quite obvious where the last is directed.

"Quite, Lady," Rygar voices curtly to Lucienne's summary of their discussion. Standing with booted heels close together, back straight as an arrow, in the stiff comfort of a courtier's stance: elbows at his sides, one hand composed at the small of his back, the other resting atop his stomach.

"I'm sure our conversation could only be improved from your sparkling company, Lady Anais," Jarod says, not a little self-deprecating. "I think Ser Rygar's matters of import concern my lord father and fair lord brother. Hardly the likes of us. We should send for some wine and be merry friends for the evening, if the Ser is amenable." There's no trace of wit in the words, hard as it might be to imagine Ser Rygar being merry. Jarod remains standing. Green eyes going to Caytiv. "I don't believe we've met formally. You're squiring for my brother, Ser Jaremy, aye?"

"Excellent," Anais announces at Lucienne's words, smile flashing across her features. "Then perhaps you will come hawking with us tomorrow, Ser Rygar?" she suggests, settling down next to Luci and smoothing a hand over her skirts. "I've been telling Jaremy I'd like a chance to see more of the countryside here, and it seems the perfect excuse." As Jarod turns to her brother, she shifts enough to hold out a hand for Caytiv, smile warm. "I'm sorry, Ser Jarod. This is /my/ half-brother, Caytiv Hill. Cayt, this is Ser Jarod Rivers, Jaremy's brother and I understand his strong right arm as well." She leaves the answering the question to her brother, though.

Caytiv looks over the rest of the assembled in turn, over Lucienne with curiosity, over Rygar with something closer to alarm at the man's stark posture and cold demeanor. One brow lofted a little further than the other in an uncertain expression, no less he smiles to the lot, then looks back to Jarod as he is recognized and introduced, stepping closer and drawing an arm from behind his back to hold out to Jarod to clasp his, if his is offered, "Ay, or shall be soon, I hope. He put me through my paces yestermorn, and this morn your own squire did the same. I hope I have proven myself worth his time. It is good to know you, Ser Jarod."

"I have been called many things, Ser," Rygar notes with familiar sharp sniff. "'Merry' not being one." A long breath drawn as words pass amongst the others, and Anais makes her polite invitation. "It remains to be seen how long I am to await upon audience with the Lords of this house, Lady. If your Young Lord's business is so pressing as to prevent his recieving me on the morrow, I should not object to join the Lady at her hawking."

Seated again, Lucienne draws another smile for Anais. It extends to her half-brother too, and while the lady doesn't comment, she does look on for his answer. It seems Rygar's crisp manner won't see her rattled. It's probably best that she leaves his comment about Jaremy alone, as well, though it does earn a dimpling of that smile of hers. Not lost on her, oh no.

"Master Hill." Jarod clasps Caytiv's hand in his own calloused grip, giving it a firm shake. "You mean to be a knight, then? Ser Rygar and I were talking a little earlier of the meaning of that. Out of a talk he had earlier with Ser Anton, come to it. I found it interesting, at least. Ah, you've been at the yard with Rowan, then? Good. I hope you boxed him around a bit. He put in a good showing during the squire's melee in Stonebridge, but I don't want him getting overconfident. Only way to learn is to get your head knocked a fair few times." While he's still up, he'll flag down a passing servant and ask for wine. Hard to tell if the comment about Jaremy registers or not. No reaction to it from him.

Anais's lips quirk at Rygar's answer. "Ah, and now I feel less slighted to have missed Lord Jaremy the last two days myself," she replies, a touch of amusement in her voice. "Well, if he continues to avoid us, then you and I shall just go and be slighted together. No doubt Gwyneth and Elinor will be happy to join us as well." Because what would Rygar enjoy more than the company of teenage girls?

"Indeed," Rygar notes on the heels of Jarod's words to Caytiv. "In particular we had discussed the less physical qualities of a knight." At Anais' answer, he returns, "It shall be seen on the morrow, Lady Banefort. I trust the Young Lord has not taken ill?" he inquires flatly, looking between those assembled.

"I do mean so, Ser, though I start at it late," Cayt answers. "The Lord Banefort was slow to recognize his seed in me, but now he has, I'll put that recognition to the good, if I'm so able." When talk rolls around of Rowan, Cayt relaxes his posture a little bit, growing the more comfortable around the topic. "We knocked each other about a fair bit, Ser, no worries there," appended in that rich, rolling mountain accent. "I would not boast over him, for he gave me good contest, but I landed a blow or two myself," he reports modestly, then glances to Rygar as he goes on about the subject. Not knowing what to say about the physical qualities of a knight, "Ay?" he restrains himself to asking.

"If he has, I had not heard it so," assures Lucienne quickly. "I am certain he would see you both on the morrow, my lord." Any trace of amusement is gone as the Terrick girl speaks, sincere.

"You're a bit late to squire, but not all knights are dubbed at eighteen. It takes as long as it takes," Jarod says, sitting again once he's gotten that servent off scurrying for summerwine. The good strawberry stuff, even. "Jaremy was well when last I saw him, Ser, though with the heat and the moisture in the air that's making for a summer cold. I'm sure he'll see you as soon as he's able. As for hawking, that'd be a fine sport. I'd like to see your new sworn at it, Lady Anais. Ser Kevan. He keeps an impressive bird, and from what he's told me of her she's a fine hunter."

"I'm afraid I couldn't say," Anais shakes her head to Rygar, pausing to tuck her hair behind her ears. "Though I hope he isn't unwell. Does he?" she asks, perking up a bit at Jarod's words. "I didn't know. Well, then. I shall certainly have to make sure Ser Kevan comes along." Her smile slips crooked and she laughs, shaking her head. "You've almost got me hoping Jaremy doesn't show up now. It sounds a lovely outing."

"Ay, Ser." It's a safe, all-purpose answer, but Caytiv renders it up with a smile that transforms it into something well-meant. He looks to his sister, next, as is about to dare to speak up, before his voice sort of freezes in his throat around a suggestion, having no idea whether it would seem proper or not in this company.

Lucienne breathes the shadow of a laugh at Anais' words, shifting a pointed look to Rygar. Can't fault the hospitality, right? Perhaps it's Jarod who prompt the gentle touch of her hand to her cheek, and Lu to inhale again to speak: "If you all would be so good as to excuse me, I feel a touch lightheaded. Ser Rygar, I do hope to have the pleasure of your company again before you leave us, but if not - please convey my warmest regards back to Stonebridge?"

Rygar's brows draw slightly together, giving the knight the look of a frown, although the Nayland's countenance doesn't otherwise stir as Jarod and Caytiv smile and converse. A short nod to the words of the ladies. Lucienne's words and departure, are answered with a sharp bow, and "I shall do so, Lady Terrick."

There's a flicker of something in Anais' eyes when Caytiv swallows back his words, distinctly guilty. "And of course, I'd be glad if you'd come, Cayt," she offers in a softer tone, though Lucienne's statement draws her attention, brows rising. "Of course, Lady Lucienne. Do you need help to your quarters?" she offers, moving as though to stand if needed.

Jarod remains on his feet, looking to Lucienne. "Want me to walk you back to your chambers? Won't take long, and the wine will keep. Very well, as it's not quite arrived yet. Rygar's frown is noticed, with some puzzlement from him, but he doesn't ask about it. He does refrain from saying anything else for the moment.

"It isn't far, my lady," says Lucienne with a shake of her head to Anais as she stands. "Though I'll gladly walk with you, you should wish to see to that letter for your father." And in the same vein, "I can manage, dear brother, honest. I wouldn't take you from your conversation." The visiting knight is afforded the same deep curtsy as upon his greeting, and a disarming smile to match. "You are most kind, Ser Rygar. Do have a lovely evening." The swish of her skirts carries her away, at a pace befitting a lady taking ill - whether or not this is the case.

Caytiv doesn't seem to have noticed Rygar's case of cloudybrow— or at least he's failed to distinguish it from his general mien of disapprobation. He clears his throat, some, as he looks aside to his sister, speaking quietly, mainly to her, though audible enough if anyone is paying attention. "I was going to say that if the Lord Ser turns up, it doesn't need ruin your plans; he could always go with you. Nothing much you can discuss in a tower that you can't discuss out in the wood, ay?" He quiets down for Lucienne's departure, not adding a third offer of accompaniment to the two already declined, but sort of leaning in her direction in an oddly executed bow.

"All right then," Anais smiles faintly to Lucienne, looking after the other lady for a moment as she departs. Once she seems to be safely on her way, she turns back to Caytiv, smile warming. "I think that's an excellent idea, Cayt," she nods to her brother. "If the others wouldn't mind, of course."

Jarod retakes his seat once Lucienne's safely off, slouching comfortably. "True enough, and perhaps more comfortably in the woods. Tower tends to make things a good deal more formal. Mind, my lady? Hardly. I haven't had a good hunt in far too long. We can make a proper day of it. You do much hawking or hunting in the Westerlands, lad?" The question to Caytiv.

"Hunting, ay, Ser," Cayt answers, "I'm a straight enough throw with a spear. And going up onto the crags to hunt lion is grand sport, but dangerous." A huff of laughter, "I guess the danger makes the sport of it, ay, Ser? Never hunted with a bird, though, Ser. Dogs, ay— never birds. Does the hawk flush the quarry for you?"

"I prefer bows and dogs to birds, myself," Jarod says to Cayt. "Hawking'll just net you smaller game, though I saw a big, well-trained bird take a fox once. The bird hunts for you, or at least finds your quarry. Have you really hunted lions?" He grins at the notion. "Never tried a hand at that. Boars at times, but never big cats. How do you go about it?"

Anais seems more than content to settle back and let her brother answer questions now, a small smile playing at the corner of her lips. "Really, Ser Rygar," she murmurs, pitching her voice so as not to interrupt the other conversation. "I'm sure everything will turn out just fine."

More conversation about stuff Cayt actually knows about, and once more his form slackens, letting loose some of that anxiety born of being around the noble and otherwise titled. "Oh, ay," he answers. "It's rather much like going after a boar, in fact. Best done in a group, get out to the creature's lair. Best let a beater flush the thing, whoever's swift of limb, as a dog is lightly to get mauled. Circle 'round the cave entrance and when the thing comes out, throw at it— the great trick is not missing the cat and hitting one another or your mounts," Cayt adds with a snort of amusement. "Once you've wearied the thing out with a few spears, two or three of you can go in on foot with knives or lances to finsh it off, at which point it's… just like any other melee. Try to stay away from the sharp parts," he adds with a short chuckle.

"Quite," Rygar answers Anais after a lengthy stern silence. "I commend your optimism, and shall excuse myself so as to allow you time to properly enjoy it." A short bow to the Banefort "Lady." A second sharp bow to Jarod, "Ser." And a curt nod to Caytiv, "Squire."

Jarod laughs. "Good part of most lessons of being a knight right there. Or at least, try and make sure you're armored against the sharp parts. Perhaps we'll visit your folk at the Baneforts some time, and we can give it a go. A cloak made out of lion skin would make for a fine conversation piece." He inclines his head to Ser Rygar. "Ser. I thank you for your time. I should be retiring soon myself. Hour's later than I'd thought. I may just do with a drink and then to bed."

"A good evening to you, Ser Rygar," Anais smiles politely to the knight, nodding to his bow. And look! Just in time for the wine. Lady or no, Anais is happy enough to take a small glass. "The sharp parts do, however, make for very impressive scars," she adds for Jarod's sake, smile crooked. "It's hard not to be impressed by a man who points to his scars and can honestly say he got them in hand to hand combat with a lion."

Another rolling laugh comes from Cayt when Jarod mentions the skin, "Ay, and I near to forgot the most important part— the brawl afterward to see who gets the creature's skin," he elucidates with a smile, then, sobering under the gaze of the gloom-faced Ser Rygar, he performs another one of those awkward keening bows toward Rygar as he makes to go. "Ser." He twitches a smile for Annie, thereafter, and looks to Jarod. "I should show you mine, but I would need remove my trousers, and I fear to embarrass my sister in good company," he remarks in a hushed tone.

"Pretty sure I could win the brawl for it," Jarod says merrily. Cayt's bit about the scar just makes him laugh more. "I've got a scar like that as well, though that one wasn't the work of any lion." With a glance at Anais, that story remains untold. He drinks quickly. If nothing else it'll help him fall asleep. "And I'll try not to get any from fighting with a hawk on the morrow. Though one never knows. They can be proud birds, with hot tempers."

With only Jarod left in the room, Anais has no response to her brother's words save to press a hand to her cheek and try desperately not to laugh loudly enough to draw the attention of the departing Rygar. It turns her cheeks a lovely color of red, but at least this time it's more in laughter than embarassment. She coughs a few times before she has it completely under control, wiping a hand under her eyes. "Hawks, yes," she says, though there's still a giggle under the words. "Well, we'll just have to keep them blindfolded, no? Aim and fire when needed only."

"You never do know, Ser. Fighting down a lion will put all kind of determination into a bloke," Cayt warns with a winsome smile, taking of a little bit of wine, himself, since the people who are left in the hall aren't unbearably terrifying, "I'll show you my skin, sometime. I use it for a bedroll when I sleep out of doors, so it keeps its shape. Are the hawks as bad as that? Sounds as though it'd be well to skip their part in the whole thing and hunt them, instead."

"Nah, I'm just having a laugh. It's a different sort of hunt, but it's as challenging as bows in its way, and it's damn fun to watch the birds and handlers who're truly skilled at it," Jarod says. Standing once he's gulped his glass. Anais receives one of those half-bows, Cayt a quick inclination of his head. "My lady. Squire Hill. I also bid you a good eve."

"Good eve, Ser Jarod," Anais smiles warmly to the knight, raising her glass in a salute to the man. "I look forward to seeing you tomorrow for the ride." She takes a small sip of the wine, leaning back a bit with a soft sigh and letting her eyes drift closed for a moment.

"Ay, bows are rough," Cayt assents with a squint of his eyes as though in pain at the thought. "It'll be a fine thing to see, though, ay," he sounds game for the excursion, if nothing else. "Good night, Ser Jarod," he adds with a forward inclination of shoulders and head.