|Pleasantries and Profanity|
|Summary:||Saffron, Solomon, Justin, Martyn, and Kamron have a chat.|
|Related Logs:||Stonebridge, Siege of the Roost, and others|
|Courtyard, Four Eagles Keep|
|The Courtyard of Four Eagles Tower is floored with a fine grey stone that match the color and tone of the interior structure of the castle's yard. Plants have been potted and placed around the entrances to add some color, the greenery accompanied by several trellises of flowers that climb the support columns. The most prominent structure in the area is the set of large slab steps that lead up to the great oak doors of the Great Hall. Several hallways and accesses lead off into different sections of Four Eagles which makes this the hub of noble activity when court is not being held.|
|23 April, 289 A.L.|
With the coming of midday, the sun shines down into the courtyard and brightens the pots of greenery and flora that litter the area. There appears to be a lesson going on between the redheaded Banefort daughter and her withering, dried up escort—the latter is reading from a book, her droning voice only pleasant as background noise. Saffron appears to be listening though her head is half-cocked and gaze focused somewhere beyond the old hag. She has mastered the art of interested responses that are also exceptionally noncommittal. Either Mistress Morla has come to accept that her charge never listens, or she is just too focused on her own bored voice.
Making his way out of the keep itself, Martyn looks a bit thoughtful. Pausing as he hears the voice reading, and looking in that direction now. Pausing a bit as he sees who it is, he moves a bit closer to the two just to hear what's being read at the moment. Offering a polite nod and a half-smile in Saffron's direction if she should look over in his direction.
Sails had indeed been seen from them on the costal watch, but with them came a standard sigil flown, which was good enough to identify the long and lean ship as one belonging to the Cape's defenders. With the alarm down as opposed to raised, it has only been a small bit of time since the sails were noted-but a figure armed with sword and dressed in salt stained leathers is let on to pass through the gate.
A rolled up bit of parchment in hand, Captain Solomon Wake, doesn't really give the guardsmen behind him a second glance, as he struts easily into the courtyard. Eyes slide to the lesson taking place, and hesitates. A brow arching., before he is turning his head to the other incoming Mallister. "Ser MARTYN!" yes, he yells to be louder than an old person.
The approaching Martyn causes the strawberry-headed Banefort to look over toward him with the most casual of glances. Currently, the old Mistress is droning on about the various heraldries of Dorne, though she has managed to make them sound about as entertaining as watching stone weather. Saffron straightens up, raising her voice meaningfully as she meets smile for smile with the Mallister. "Good day, Ser Martyn," she says, loudly and pointedly. It is enough to cause the woman to stop, turning to stare crisply at the Mallister knight. Fortunately for Martyn, whatever grumping Mistress Morla was about to bestow was immedately silenced by the bellow of Captain Solomon. Saffron chokes back a sudden burst of laughter at the sheer look of aghast from her guardian, pressing her palm against her mouth to snortle softly.
Justin has been in doors too much today, working on some studying up for himself to try and catch up with currrent events, politics, law, and what's going on with the tower's administration. Such as his elder brother or his father, or their advisors are willing to inform him. Thus far it's been slow going and tedious. So a break is needful. The dark haired young Terrick Lord comes out of the tower and into the courtyard, carrying several items in arms or over his shoulder, most notably a suit of mail. Just finds a place that is shaded and simply takes a seat upon the ground to lay the mail out over his legs that he might start inspecting it, a leather satchel to the side with various tools and things he'll need within it. Grey eyes look over the others gathered in various placse within the courtyard, himself placed where he can lean his back against the wall to work quietly. Justin's gaze goes to the man who shouted (Soloman) for Lord Mallister.
"Lady Saffron, how are you today?" Martyn offers, before he looks to Mistress Morla as well. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He looks about to add something more, but hearing the yell from Solomon, he turns in that direction. "Captain Wake," he offers, greeting the man with a nod. "You have returned from the sea?" Looking around for a few moments, before noticing Justin. "Lord Justin," he greets the young man, a nod for him as well.
"Have I returned from sea?" Solomon asks, before he simply glances down to himself, and places a hand to his chest for a few moments. "I do believe I have, otherwise, I'd be a ghost with my body down in them watery halls for all time." A sniff there, before the Captain looks over to the banefort lass, and there's a faint if not what he supposes to be a charming grin passed along to the red headed girl. One hand comes up to tweak at his mustache, before he is moving closer. So far, there is no move to introduce himself to the young woman, as Martyn's greeting of the newly arrived Terrick has him looking back over in that direction.
Kamron has been out-of-doors probably for as long as Justin has been cooped up inside, and he is not far behind Solomon in coming through the portcullis. He smirks faintly at the bellow from the old salt, reaching up to — quite unnecessarily — calm his horse. One of the two Mallister armsmen with him does need to calm his mount, and so Kam hands his reins off to the other armsman, exchanging a couple of quiet words with the man before the two armsmen lead the trio of horses off toward the stables and Kamron moves quickly to catch the common knight up, grinning crookedly, "You'd best have some news, Ser Solomon, to go shouting about the courtyard like that." As he catches up with the man in a soft chime of mail and plates, he offers Martyn a nod, and Saffron and her minder a nod that comes somewhat closer to a bow.
Justin has seated himself and begun to go over his mail shirt carefully. His pale grey eyes glance up at Martyn's greeting, his light baritone to reply in kind, "Lord Ser," before his attention drifts over the others to settle upon Kamron. He studies that man from where he sits.
Saffron's guardian is looking about as bristled and wary as a threatened cat, though her charge is looking quite pleased at the attention and the diversion from her bored studies. She brightens quite considerably as she turns on her cushioned stool to look at the Mallisters, the common knight, and then the Terrick Lord. Her hands are lightly folded in her lap, fingers twisting up together though not at all from nerves but more of a comfortable habit. She inclines her head gently to Kamron at his near-bow, and she taps the side of her nose briefly before she speaks in purposeful airy tones to her minder. "Mistress Morla, perhaps we can put our lesson aside for now? You've always said that ignoring possible avenues of conversation can be seen as rude." All her Mistress can bear is a glare in her charge's direction and a disgruntled snort of agreement—or is it just surrender? Saffron now focuses all of her attention on the Lords and Knights.
Martyn chuckles as he hears Solomon's words, "Sorry, just had to state the obvious," he offers to the man, before he nods at Kamron's words, "What news?" he asks, greeting the other Mallister with a bit of a nod and a smile now.
Solomon glances over his shoulder to Kamron and there is a bark of laughter from the man. "My news is my own, that there are no varlets upon th' seas at this time. But I suspect as th' summer rolls an the seasons melt we shall see them soon enough. Specially as th' call for the early harvest is given. They will come like rats to a dead boy, lookin' for the parts that be th' meatiest to sink into." A nod as he rubs his nose. "I have all detailed here my findings on th' Cape round the Roost ways t' the Flint Cliffs. I plan on settin' a raidin' schedule in which we are here on land t' lull them an let them come to be fat, before we fuck them up their-" And it is at this time, he becomes, re-aware of the Lady in their presence, and he pauses for a moment. "That is to say, we will keep them from raidin' while benefiting dear Lord Pad." Nice save.
Kamron gestures over to Solomon as he responds to the inquiries, although the profanity causes him to squeeze his eyes shut for a moment, just shy of smacking his own forehead — which is good, given that he's still wearing heavy leather gauntlets. He gives a crooked grin to the sailor, "Much the same on the roads, if less profane than on the seas. Whoever the bandits are, they don't seem interested in getting found by armed men." Looking over to Saffron, he smiles, "Although I hasten to assure you, Lady Saffron, that they should be absolutely no threat to you, so long as you travel the countryside well protected." Finally, he turns his attention over to Justin, offering another nod, "Ser Kamron Mallister. Which of the Terrick knights do you squire for?" A polite — if totally misjudged — introduction and inquiry.
Justin starts to give Solomon a sharp look at such language before the young lady but the man hastily corrects himself. There's a glance to the young woman he doesn't know, then back to checking his maile. There, a damaged few links which takes his attention to start putting them back into proper order. Justin glances back up when Kamron has some news of the bandits. The inquiry though makes him blink, the set his tool aside with a hint of wariness. Justin shifts his maile off of his legs and moves to stand since it is a Mallister whom addresses himself, "I /was/ Squired to late Lord Ser Haffrey Tully until he was slayn by the Ironborn, Lord Ser. I am Justin Terrick, newly returned home."
A quick glance is afforded to her minder, who has only tried to tighten her lips to the point that they fuse together—and wouldn't that be a miracle. Saffron merely arches up her coppery brows, opening her expression with the most innocent of looks — and as none know her best, all can assume it to be genuine. "Certainly, Ser Kamron. My escorts and I ran into our share of bandits during our travels here… I found that steel is one of their greatest phobias." And the Banefort daughter ignores the warning glare from her minder as she continues to brandish a sweethearted smile. However, she winces just slightly at the mistake from the Mallister, and she sweeps in with a graceful save — or at least a hopeful distraction. "Welcome home, Ser Justin. I am Saffron Banefort, cousin to Anais Terrick, and this is my guardian Mistress Morla."
Martyn nods a bit as he listens, pausing for a few moments at the language from the sea captain. Looking back to the others at the moment, nodding a little bit. "Good plan, Captain," he offers to Solomon, listening to the others as well now.
Justin gives a faint negative movement of his head to Saffron's address, "Not Ser, only Lord. I must Squire to another to finish earning my spurs." Or better gear for that matter, being of a relatively poor House.
"Man is a profane beastie if I e'er did know. Certainly th' fine Lady will excuse a man fer speakin' his heart on matters of utmost importance." The Captain offers with a glance back to Saffron. A short bow in her direction. "My somewhat honest apologies, dear Lady. I shan't be talkin' about murdering or fucking within' yer ears." And there the Captain rises up. "Cap'n Solomon Wake at your service." given that he does don spurs as a sign of office-one could denote he is a knight-just not a highly chivalrous one.
There's a glance to Martyn for a moment before he is waggling the parchment in the Lord's direction. "If'n you have a Courier, I'd send him with this as soon as able for Seagard. So that Lord Pad knows of our situation." a nod there before he is looking back to Justin, and one hand tricks back up to play with that amazing mustache of his.
Open mouth, insert foot. Kamron clears his throat as he's corrected by the Terrick scion, a blush — and a rueful grin — rising onto his lips. "Well, I've done my damage for the day. My apologies, Lord Justin." One hand gestures helplessly to the maile in the man's hands, but he makes no verbal excuses. The Banefort's words about bandits draw a laugh to his lips despite his embarassment, "Most people are highly allergic to steel, Lady Banefort. The more intelligent are well afraid of it as well." This from the man who volunteers for anti-bandit patrols and charges ironborn lines without pause. "I do hope that none of your party discovered their steel allergies, Lady Saffron."
Saffron brightens at Ser Solomon with the smallest shake of her head. "Please, Ser… I have heard much worse, even if I am not allowed to talk about the quality nor quantity of such. But—" And then she is promptly interrupted by the old hag at her side in a firm and gruff voice, "But, thank you, Captain Solomon," Morla says firmly, earning a slight terse expression from her charge before she nods in stiff agreement. "Yes, thank you." And then she inhales through her nose to focus herself once more, and she smiles a bit to Kamron. "There might have been a few reactions, but they are doing just fine now, thank you, Ser Kam."
The young, dark haired Terrick gives Kamron a nod, "No offense taken, Ser Kamron." Justin looks down at the maile in his hands and wouldn't think to ask anyone else to repair it for him, when he has no squire and knows how to do it for himself. His own hands are not those of a courtly gentleman. The young Lord seems preferable to watching and listening to the others rather than running his own mouth, lest he has something to say or ask. So Justin observes.
"That probably says something about you, cousin," Martyn offers a bit lightly in Kamron's direction. "But yes, I can say that the steel allergies can be quite bad." One hand moving to his neck as he speaks, a bit absently. He then nods a bit at Solomon's words, before he reaches out for the parchment. "I will make sure someone is sent with it today, Captain," he offers.
Solomon snorts once as eyes slide to the guardian before a dip of his head is applied in Saffron's direction. "Aye, I kin see that. perhaps whatever blush ye've had has gone to your fine hair, My Lady." A grin and a lazy half broken wink is slopped out, before he is looking over to Kamron. "Most men be allergic t' steele an iron. I suspect many more t' fine salt water." Perhaps implying drowning, but surely the Captain is not so cruel. Parchment is handed over, before Solomon's hand slides to rest on his sword for a moment.
"If you need a knight, Yon Terrick. I kin promise ye a place on my boat." Oh God. "Ye kill a man with fine armor, y' can keep it unless I find it finer then me own." A smile flashed and his gold tooth shines a bit under the sun, before it's hidden back under lips.
Kamron grins at Martyn, "I never claimed to be intelligent, coz." He bows his head in silent thanks to Justin's words, chuckling faintly at Solomon, "I'll take salt water over steel any day, Captain. I can swim in salt water — rather enjoy it, in fact — but I've yet to find a man who can swim through steel." He smiles at Saffron's use of the diminutive form of his name, gesturing to Solomon as he speaks up, "There's a bold man who seeks to charm a Lady and a squire almost in the same breath." An amused grin, very crooked indeed, lights his lips, "Compliments to the lady and offers of good armor to the squire. At least he's gotten the right offer for the right person, eh?" A slightly helpless shrug is sent Solomon's way, as if in apology for teasing him.
Justin does not look precisely roused with interest at the Captain's offer, be it due to the Captain himself or the sea and ships. Or the very 'fine' offer of gear he could keep, or not as the case might be. Justin lifts his chin and raises his young baritone, "I be thank'n ye fer th' offer, Captain. But me thinks I nae be o' man of th' sea." Mischief is in his pale eyes, replying in something like a mock riverman's accent if not a seaman's. Back to his own way of speaking, Justin adds low, "I prefer a horse or good solid earth. I know nothing of ships." With a hint of a smile, he turns when a manservent of the tower comes to speak to him. Justin listens and nods, then tosses his heavy maile shirt over his shoulder. With a little stiffness of a recent wound mended, he picks up the leather satchel before he looks back to the others, "Excuse me Lords, Sers, Lady." Apparently something inside requires Justin's attention so he moves to follow the servant sent to fetch him.
Saffron laughs despite the look from her minder at the words from the common knight, and she even awards him a small wrinkling of her nose. "I accept your compliment pleasantly, Captain Solomon." Then she listens to the back and forth between the men, though she tilts her head a bit at the words from the Mallister knight. "It sounds as if you swim for enjoyment sake, Ser Kam, and not just for survival? My father tells me I was terrified of the water until I was seven, but I honestly just thought that there's nothing pleasant about being wet." She then looks toward Justin as he makes his leave, bowing her head gently. "Good day to you, Lord Justin."
Solomon snorts back towards Kamron, if the Knight is unused to such teasing, he does not show it. Instead he snorts and laughs. "I know what pressure applies t' which thing I want, Ser Kam. A fine woman, require fine words, an a good squire requires good steele. I know me limits on both." A dip of his head there before he is reaching over to offer a thump of leather gauntleted hand to the other knight's shoulder. "Now, one thing ye cannot do, is swim with steel on. You'll sink quicker than a whore will go down for a silver." On what-remains unsaid.
There's a glance at Justin Terrick, and he turns his head, to hork and spit a gob of something to the earth. "Don't think you'd be able t' look down to see it." he mutters back before he is looking to Kamron with a faint shrug. There's a glance given Saffron and his mouth drops, open before he recovers a quick grin. "I find that statement t' be quite true my lady." Teeth flashed again.
"Good, good," Martyn offers to Kamron, a bit lightly. Nodding to the part about swimming. "It's not that bad, swimming," he offers. As Justin takes his leave, he offers a bit of a nod, "Take care, Lord Justin." Then looking back to the others.
Kamron nods to Justin as the man departs, chuckling softly at his immitation of a riverman's speech. Solomon's words about swimming and steel begin to draw a nod from the nobleman, and then he coughs at the analogy drawn, covering the cough with a balled fist as his eyes dart towards the hand-hag hovering alongside Saffron. Recovering slowly, he adds, "I quite agree, Captain. I would never try to swim in my armor." His words are carefully chosen to guide the conversation away from whores and silver, and he starts to nod at Saffron's words, and then he blinks. The Mallister's head tilts slightly, looking from Banefort to Banefort's bane (Mistress Morla) and back for a moment before he once again speaks very carefully, "I've heard many say that, Lady Saffron. Usually those without experience," there's an almost imperceptible pause, "with the sea and swimming."
Saffron cannot hide that flash of amusement that flickers in her pale eyes, and she tilts her head toward Morla who has settled into a look of pure disdain—obviously the youth of the Kingdoms will never be acceptable, that men and women from her youth were far more refined, and other such crotchety commentaries. The Banefort merely smiles in a smooth, casual manner with her head slightly tilted. "Well, perhaps I will have to gain more experience before I can cast judgement on the activity on whole. We are still close to the coast." And then she casually moves the conversation onward and maybe even upward, but its hard to judge with these four. "Has the Roost been treating you well regardless, Sers? I hear we should be getting quite a bit more help from Stonebridge." She looks between them, as if preparing to judge reactions.
Solomon pinches at the end of his mustache for a moment, before there is a faint shrug. "Th' roost is just fine. Tis no Seagard my lady, but our hosts here are hospitable enough. An' their tavern in th' village sells fine enough wine an ale for any man looking." Indifferent the Captain is about the holdings on the land. "It is no ship, but it serves it's purposes." Like whoring, docking all the things men need from land. As for the bit about stonebridge there's a faint snort, before he's scricthing at his cheek. "I doubt them Naylands will help over here. They're in a right snit with the Terricks. Oe'r what? Fucks if I know." But the two families do not get along. Not in the least.
Martyn nods a little bit, "Like Captain Wake said, it's no Seagard, but it's rather good." He smiles a little bit as he adds, "Got good people here, and such." A bit of a grin, "And besides, after the Iron Islands, anyplace solid, with a good bed, is a good thing." The mention of Stonebridge makes him pause a bit, "Really? What have you heard, Lady Saffron?" Sounding a bit curious now.
Kamron shrugs helplessly at the question about the Roost, starting to gesture toward Solomon to take his answer as well, and then swiftly changing the gesture toward Martyn with an amused smirk at the sea captain. The mention of Stonebridge, however, draws a grimace across his features, even if it is fleeting. He responds first to Solomon, "Most recently, about Stonebridge itself. Further back…" one armored shoulder rises and falls in half a shrug, "I would have to say that it's personal." Then he looks back to Saffron, "I actually have high hopes for one or two of the Naylands," there's a pause there, a glance up to the Keep above them, a grimace, and a retraction, "Make that one or so of the Naylands. If it's assistance from Ser Rutger, I say it's probably for the best. Most of the others, I'd look for the hook." Another shrug, this one helpless, is followed by, "But I'm sure that Lord Terrick, Lord Jacsen, and your cousin are watching for that, Lady Saffron."
Saffron considers the various answers to both of her inquiries, and she smiles at the apparent acceptance of the Roost despite its state. She remains seated on her cushioned stool, her skirts flowing around her like a stormy sea wave. She frowns just a bit, though it is neither too deep nor too shallow and does cause a small frinkle into her brow. "I'm not doubting their abilities, Ser Kamron… but that doesn't mean there isn't plenty of worry and suspicion running around." She looks over toward Solomon now, tilting her head a bit. "I've never actually been on a boat… or do you prefer ship?" She raises both coppery brows curiously.
Solomon looks back towards Saffron, for a brief moment. And there is a faint grin, given the woman before he is bowing his head. "Ship is preferred. A boat would be like a skiff or barge that rivermen use down their rivers." Apparently, the good knight, despite being a Riverman enjoys considering himself Seaborn. "If you like, dear girl. I could take ye an yer fine set of eyes." A nod given to poor Molda "On a jaunt around the cape. Let y' feel the sea an th' wind in yer hair. See how ye take to it. Though I was of th' impression that ye of house Banefort were sailing folk."
Martyn nods a little bit as he listens, unable to hold back a bit of a grin at Solomon's words. "It's nice to be out on ships. Except for… certain people, of course." Not going to name any names this time, it would seem. He nods a bit at the part about worry and suspicion, "Only natural at this point in time with the suspicion, I fear…"
Kamron inclines his head at Saffron's words, then grins over at Solomon as the captain is asked a question. He adds his own, "Definitely 'ship.' 'Boat' makes him feel small." Of course, alongside the seaman, the younger Mallister isn't exactly a giant himself. Martyn's words, however, draw the levity out of him, and he nods to his cousin, "Until Good King Robert makes his ruling on Ser Gedeon's legitimacy. And then we'll have more than suspicion. We'll have whatever the Naylands choose to do to Stonebridge to keep Ser Gedeon out."
The Banefort woman looks between the Mallisters and the seaborn knight. She offers a small laugh toward Solomon and shakes her head a bit, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. "Now, Captain… its not fair to assume that all Baneforts are the sailing kind… you should talk to my sister Claira though. Her idea of scaring my father to his grave was 'running away across the sea.' At the time though, they just shuttled her around until he could catch up with her." She then sobers a bit at the words of Kamron and Martyn, frowning a bit. "And what do you think they would do, Ser Kamron?"
Martyn shrugs a little bit, nodding at Kamron's words. "Let's hope it won't come to fighting, although I wouldn't be surprised if they'd do something like that," he offers after a few moments of pause. "Knowing a few of those…" He trails off now, shaking his head a bit.
Kamron frowns slightly at Saffron's question, obviously sidetracked by that discussion from talk of stymied damsels on the run. He nods slightly at Martyn, "I doubt it will come to fighting. The Naylands aren't fool enough to stand against the word of the King, not directly." His fingers tap on the head of his axe, an unconscious gesture as he thinks, "We may have to call the levies to ensure they leave peacibly though. I could easily see them taking everything of value from Stonebridge, or perhaps even damaging the bridge itself." His frown deepens, "I certainly hope that Ser Gedeon isn't in Stonebridge whenever the ruling comes down. They might try to do him harm."
"Then I suppose it might be worthwhile to see where Ser Gedeon is—" And then there is a stern gruff from Morla, and it draws Saffron back around with a small frown. There are times she finds it quite easy to forget her guardian is present. "But that isn't of my worries, I'm sure," she says in a plain, uncertain voice. "Though, I could see the benefit of making a trip to Stonebridge." Then she sighs as her guardian starts to stand, signifying that it is time for her to go. She slowly begins to rise herself, collecting the light, clapboard stool from its spot. "If you will excuse us… other lessons call," she says in an automated tone. And she starts to be stepped away under the guidance of the old stump.
Martyn nods a bit, "Probably, yes," he replies to Kamron, before he nods a bit at Saffron's words, "Of course, Lady Saffron. Like the last time, it was a pleasure to meet you."
Kamron frowns slightly at Saffron's suggestion, cutting his eyes over to Morla as she clears her throat. He looks slowly from Mistress to Lady, stating quite directly, "That may indeed be a very good idea, Lady Saffron." He bows his head, "As my cousin says, it is as always a pleasure, Lady Saffron, Mistress Morla." He offers that last in with a wink meant for the Banefort lady, a crooked grin that is almost hidden by his turn back toward Martyn, "What do you think, coz… shall we extend a patrol to Oldstones to see where Ser Gedeon is?"
There is a last, lingering glance over her shoulder to the Mallisters as she is herded off. She catches the wink and starts to smile, but then there is some chiding whispers from Mistress Morla that draws her lips thin and there are some obvious muttered retorts that lead them back into the main hall.
Martyn shrugs at Kamron's suggestions. "Might be a bit long…" he replies after a few moments. "Would be easier to move closer to Stonebridge, maybe ask some people not far from there if he should happen to be there or something like that…" Looking a bit lost in thought for the moment.
Kamron frowns slightly, tapping at the head of his axe again, "I don't know that Mallisters or Terricks are likely to be all that welcome in Stonebridge. Then again, I don't know if Ser Gedeon would be either." A faint smirk replaces the frown, although it is bitter, "I certainly shouldn't be the one to go to Stonebridge. I heard that Ser Rygar the Bitter was appointed Sheriff, and I don't think he would be inclined to interact with me."
"Old Smileyface has been made Sheriff?" Martyn offers after a few moments of pause, unable to hold back a bit of a grin. He shrugs for a few moments. "If I went over there, I'm sure that at least a few people could be willing to talk to me. Met one of them out on patrol yesterday…" A brief shrug as he looks around for a few moments.
Kamron nods his head once, "That's what I heard. The stiff-necked…" he stops there, biting off whatever undoubtedly harsh words he was going to add, "Nayland has been named Sheriff." An eyebrow goes up at Martyn's news, however, and he gestures over toward the entrance hall, "Why don't you walk with me while I find Percy and get this armor off, and you can tell me what happened where fewer ears can hear?"
Martyn shrugs, "Well, nothing much happened, really. Met a group that was out travelling from Stonebridge, not someone in control of the city. Travelled with them for a while. Not much more than that." There's a brief shrug, before he adds, "But walking for a bit sounds like a good idea, anyway."
Kamron nods and starts walking toward the entrance of the Keep, "I doubt that the Naylands would much like to talk to us anyhow. Not any more than their lords the Freys would. At least not now that the war is over and done with." Pulling off his leather gauntlets, he tucks them behind the helmet hanging from his belt by its nasal and the pommel of his dagger, "I almost wish we had a common enemy, so that we could not strive against one another once King Robert makes his ruling." A grimace flickers across his features, "Of course, I suppose that would just mean that the Naylands would hold on to Stonebridge for the duration 'so there was no interruption in support for the war.'"
"They probably wouldn't," Martyn agrees, before he adds, "Unless it's to gloat over something, I guess." A brief pause as he hears the part about the wish for a common enemy. "Sounds like what we'd all need. Someone to focus on so we won't have to fight each other." Walking along with Kamron in the direction of the entrance of the Keep.
Kamron nods his head, "But then we would be ever at war." Tilting his head to one side, a grin flashes across the man's features, "And while that might be good for excitement, I think it would leave little time for repopulating, or even talking to the fairer sex." A chuckle lifts on his lips, "Which can be quite entertaining, I've discovered. Even if not so exciting as war or the tourney."