|Take Your Own Leave|
|Summary:||Ryker tells Igara and Rygar of his travel plans. A disagreement ensues.|
|Tower Hall - Tordane Tower|
|The entrance to the tower opens into a larger common room for receiving guests. Effort has been made to bring warmth and light to the interior, as well. Rugs have been hung from the stone walls as well as placed on the floor to bring at a welcoming ambiance. There is a large table with several chairs off to the left of the door, a cooking hearth against the back wall, and a wooden staircase that leads up. An antechamber behind the stairs is where the servants live and bed down.|
|9 August, 288|
Igara might not be the most able-bodied girl in the Riverlands. Put her on a horse and she's feeling tired within the hour. Nevermind having her run or dance or otherwise exert herself beyond the minimum. But for all of these facts granted, she is no less industrious about a house, modest and unintrusive but with a fine hand for the feminine crafts. She sits in the hall in a day-dress which would hardly make her stand out from the crowd as a noble, something of practical fit and more than modest cut, covering her not only to her wrist but with sleeves that come to a point at the tops of her hands, attached to simple silver rings on her middle fingers, and covering nearly her entire neck. In such garb she's settled herself down in the hall, there weaving on a small loom, taken up in the task once meant for servants, but which has come also very much the image of noble feminine chastity and household management. Certainly this is a girl to make someone a fine wife.
Newly returned from the west is Rygar. A brief word with his cousin Tenysa on the road, and he is direct to Tordane Tower. Striding inside with his typical stiff composure, the knight's bearing cannot conceal that his attire is dusty from travel, and his cold blue eyes are bloodshot as he steps inside. "Lady Igara," is the first to draw his eye and word.
Ryker steps down the staircase slowly, the man already dressed to look more presentable for a crowd in a swordcape and respectable clothing that befits a Lord. He nods to Rygar and then to Igara as he steps over towards them. "Cousin. Lady Igara." Its the latter he has his attention on. "You may wish to prepare yourself for a ride. We're to travel for four days. I have Milicent already packing some of your belongings."
Igara pushes the weft up into the warp with a firm but still seemly packing motion, then turns her head when Lord Rygar comes in all dusty from the road, mouth open in a brief expression of surprise. She sets the shuttle down gingerly and stands, lowering herself into a courtsey of greeting and staying there for a long moment in respect. "My Lord," she stands, "I hope that the road has been well to you." Because other hopes cannot be chastely spoken in his company. "I will have water brought, if you should bid me do so." And then her attention pivots up toward Ryker, wide-eyed, sort of confused. But she's not the sort of girl to argue or ask questions when she's told a thing. "Yes, my Lord," is her standard answer.
Rygar inclines his head and shoulders to the rising Frey girl. "The road has served it's purpose. I have been bade inform the good Lady that my cousin Rowan is flattered and honored, and asks your patience for a few days in order to compose his thoughts into a letter worthy of a Lady such as yourself." The words are not unkind, but the Nayland's cold manner leeches any warmth from the words. Then Ryker arrives and announces his imminent travel. "Has some word arrived from the Fortress of the Sevens, cousin?"
Ryker listens to the freshly arrived Rygar, eyes on the man as he speaks about Rowan. A nod to Igara before he speaks, "My brother is a good man. A bit taken with the Terricks, but a good man nonetheless. But rather than force him to write you a letter I think it would be best if we introduced you. After all, having your wedding orchestrated and announced to you without having met your bride tends to be..unnerving." There's a short smile before he turns to Rygar. "No. As far as I know Rickart is still decreeing from his throne without saying anything to me. I have decided that Igara and I and a few swords will travel to the Roost to visit for a few days."
To think of Rowan writing her such a letter must put the kindness back into the coolly reported words, for they call the bright flower of a blush into blossom on her cheek, and makes her to lower her eye in fear of seeming immodestly pleased. "I yield to him my patience, as he bids me, and give you my thanks for bringing me his bidding," is rendered up in a chastely paced series of syllables, the young girl already seeming well-intending to be obedient to her husband's will. When Ryker offers up his plan, instead, so opposite as it is to her betrothed's charge for her patience, she looks to him, briefly, and then to Rygar, to see whether he thinks it appropriate.
"My Lord," Rygar begins. "Such would hardly seem wise. Terrick's Roost is not friendly to our cause, departing the new seat of your Lordship unneccessarily removes you from the sight of your smallfolk, and- Seven forbid- should anything befall you, there are no heirs of your blood. Surely instead Rowan and his knight could be invited to Stonebridge in a more appropriate gesture of good faith?"
"I am not concerend with how friendly their cause is. If we are lucky, they might even try to ignore the law again and place me in their dungeon." Ryker gives a short smile. "Four days is hardly the epic journey, cousin. I believe that the smallfolk will hardly notice my leave. Lady Isolde will be here to ensure things are running smoothly. Besides, I do not believe for one moment that his knight would brave Stonebridge right now by himself. He probably fears it will cause him hives simply to cross inside. No, we will go to him."
A small swallow is all the hint of alarm Igara allows herself to show as the two Lords discuss dangers and dungeons. She places a hand upon the shuttle and steadies herself against the loom with its half-woven cloth. She does not give any opinion upon the matter, but waits for the final decision to be made so she will know whether to prepare for the journey or no.
"That would hardly be luck, cousin," Rygar returns to Ryker stiffly. "The inheritance of Stonebridge remains uncertain until Her Ladyship bears Your Lordship an heir. Though we would raze the Roost to the ground in revenge, we are running short of unmarried sons." A fresh breath drawn in past a displeased frown. "Besides, what does it say if Terrick knights are so suspicious as to dread your House, if not that you ought not pass into theirs. I do not fear the Terricks, cousin, I worry that whomever has sought to sow dissent between Terrick and Nayland might- in your misfortune- to give us cause to hazard our gains with uncertain war."
Ryker looks to Igara and nods once to the woman, his voice calm. "We will be going no matter what. If you feel prepared to travel to see your future husband as you are, then so be it." He then looks back to Rygar and his voice goes back to the same low tones as before. "Well it is going to be a year before that happens and if you think that I am going to sit in this tower and never leave because it might be dangerous than I regret to inform you that you're quite wrong." His brow lofts as he delivers that point. "I am unconcerned with not crossing into their territory. This is not an invasion. One does not bring Igara to such potential slaughters. As for who has sought to sow dissent? All the better to see for myself who is around. Unless your trained eye were to spot any dangerous individuals?"
Igara is startled from her hesitation by the sudden declaration, and, bobbing in a short courtsey, "Yes, my Lord," she answers him, "By your leave, my Lord, I will go and prepare myself to visit." She lets her hand off of the shuttle and clutches them both in front of her, ready to skitter off when the gentleman or gentlemen grant her leave to do so.
"Ryker, there is too much riding upon your life for mere boredom to excuse such folly," Rygar returns shortly. "The Terricks will never strike at you directly, but to travel with such scant escort is to err grievously." Already wearied by an overnight ride, the stern knight's bloodshot eyes look an even more stark blue as he fixes his stare upon the Lord of Stonebridge. "If you care naught for yourself, spare a thought for the Family behind you. If aught befalls you, the Naylands will suffer and your wife will suffer. If- knowing that- you are yet so determined to indulge your boredom with this folly then that is Your Lordship's right." He leaves the dismissal of Igara to Ryker.
Ryker nods to Igara. "Take leave if you are required." He then looks back to Rygar and his face seems to slowly sour. "'Boredom' is not the point I would place on this small journey, Rygar. I wish to speak to several people over there and get my own vantage of their town. You would have me sit in this tower and simply follow your advice for the rest of this year without ever bothering to look at the other players involved? I do not consider the attempt to learn this political landscape to be folly, either, so if you are done with that line of points I'll be quite pleased to not hear them again." The man does not sound happy. "While I am away I may receive a guest. A knight by the name of Bruce Longbough. He is a trustworthy friend from Riverrun and he will be, hopefully, staying to serve this house and help with our militia. He will also be advising me. Send him along to the Roost if he desires, otherwise he is to be given space here for the time being."
"I would have you behave as a Lord, rather than a rootless knight errant," Rygar snaps back at Ryker's increasingly sour mein. "Wise generals do not skirmish, and wise Lords do not undertake journeys such as this." Jaw tightening with restrained ire, he prompts, "How much silver will you be drawing from the treasury for this.. exploration of yours?" The name of Bruce Longbaugh and his intended service here is met with a sharp nod of acknowledgment, but goes uncommented.
Igara nods her head in gratitude to Ryker, with one more look toward Rygar before she does move off to the stairs, betaking herself to her chamber in order to make sure she has time to get into a presentable gown from her common-looking day-dress, and to make sure through conversations with Milicent that her little riding-carriage is being prepared for her, as such a ride would certainly make her ill.
The Lord's mood cools immensely. "Allow me to apologize for not behaving in a way the suits Ser Rygar perfectly well," he deadpans. "How much silver I take is none of your business." Not much for words right now.
Rygar stares hard and unflinching back at his cousin's chill reply. "Many people have worked very hard to place you in this advantageous position, my Lord," he states tight and low in tone. "Do not squander it." A slowly drawn breath. "If you will not even take a strong body of guard about you, I ask Your Lordship's leave to be about my business and yours."
"And that is the hand you have dealt yourself, Rygar. If I want to squander it, then I will. As it stands, I have my intentions and you have yours so I will tell you one time that this discussion is over and is to be left there. Your protest is noted." Ryker own voice is bone dry. "I will take the guard I require. Take your own leave."
Rygar hears those words out, with his own countenance hardening. He says nothing further, simply bending his neck in a short, sharp dip to the Lord of the house and stepping with crisp, purposeful strides up the staircase.