|Tavern Night to Remember|
|Summary:||There is beer and conversation (of a sorts) in the Rockcliff Inn, interrupted only by the arrival of Lady Kathryna after her meeting with Lady Evangeline.|
|Related Logs:||Clash of Wills|
|Rockcliff Inn, Terrick's Roost|
|The Rockcliff Inn is one of the better inns within the town and it shows with the well-lit interior and the relative cleanliness to the other locations in Terrick's Roost. The tables are polished with oils and the floor regularly swept. A set of booths towards a darker rear of the Inn's bottom floor, just beneath the staircase, are where whores generally socialize and eye prospects from when not waiting tables. Signs over the undersized bar area advertise prices for ales and wines as well as several different choices of food to be served at the small eating area by the bar or in the main open area in its comfortable seating. A door behind the bar leads to the kitchen and cellar while another near the staircase leads to a private room that would appear to be off-limits to the 'wait staff' except for food and drink service.|
|Mon Dec 12, 288|
Evening in Terrick's Roost finds Ser Jarod Rivers at the Rockcliff Inn. Hardly uncommon. He even gets a familiar greeting from the barkeep as he bellies up to take a stool. It's moderately crowded, so he's going to have to wait a bit to actually be served. The atmosphere as the dinner hour turns to the post-dinner drinking hour is a busy and jolly one. The tables are full, the ale flows freely, and girls of ill repute but good reputation are readily available should one desire such.
Nares is starting to get to know the Roost given he's now been here a few days. With no particular plans for the evening, he's defaulted to the easy option. Beer. Not that he's found the beer to be like proper beer, but then that’s probably the price he has to pay for being in foreign parts. As he enters the inn he takes his usual moment to scan the crowd for anything that looks like it might be trouble before heading over to the bar himself. He'd been hoping for a table, and the thought does cross his mind that he'd probably be able to clear one just by sitting down at it, but for now he'll be content to just get a drink.
"Ale, if you please," Jarod orders when the bartender finally gets around to him. A few sitting near him to turn to give Nares a look as the man enters, and the young knight's gaze curiously follows theirs. Though, for the moment, he doesn't pay the man much more notice than to offer a polite, "Good eve." And wait for his drink.
"Ale," Nares orders as he reaches the bar, only then turning to look at the young man who greeted him. A brief look up and down, taking in the clothes and weaponry. "Evening," he replies, mostly for form's sake, his accent clearly marking his origins as Ironborn. Pleasantries completed he leans forward so he's resting on the bar and watches the barman until his drink is served.
It doesn't take too long for their drinks to be delivered. Jarod takes a gulp of his before he does anything else, though the tone of Nares' greeting - or his accent more specifically - was certainly noted. The man is given a second look. It's still more curious than impolite. "You don't know a local. You here with Lady Harlaw's retinue?"
Nares doesn't seem to mind the second look, it's almost as if he's used to it by now. Tankard in one hand he snifs the ale first, before drinking it suspiciously. No, definitely not what he's used to, but it'll do. At the question though he barks out a laugh, then turns to the other man, "You don't know Ironborn do you lad. The Lady Harlaw is not like your Riverlands Ladies and does not require a retinue." He takes another sip of the drink before him before adding, helpfully, "but yes, I am currently here with her."
"Seems semantics to me, as you come as the Harlaws come, but as you like," Jarod says with a shrug. "The lady is impressive, though I think she likes little our mainlands. And knows us not so well as she might think. But, neither us her, I figure. I'm called Ser Jarod Rivers. I'm Captain of the Guard over at Four Eagles."
Nares could explain, but, given the day he's had, he really can't be bothered so he'll let it slide. Besides, there's no way to be sure a Riverlander would understand even if he did. Another swig of ale is taken before he returns the introduction with a brief, shallow nod, "Captain Nares. It'd be your lads that have been oggling me these past few days then?" It's just about conversational really, it wouldn't pass in polite conversation, but at the bar in a tavern it should pass well enough.
Jarod is certainly not put off by Nares' choice of words, his own manner casual enough. Friendly, even, in a two-blokes-in-tavern kind of way. He crooks a grin as he takes another swig of ale. "Aye, I figure they are. You'll forgive us not being all open arms, Captain. But the Cape of Eagles was built as it is to be a first line of defence for the Riverlands against the Iron Islands. Even in times of peace…well, we are not easy neighbours, I think you'll agree. Still, no reason to be rude. Have my men shown you any discourtesy?"
"None that I've noticed," Nares answers without even pausing to think about it first, "Although I managed to share at least some of the road with a party of Camdens, so that might have played a part." Speculation of course, but there's nothing quite like not arriving on your own in such circumstances. "Wouldn’t the Mallisters contest that though?" he asks, setting the tankard down for a moment, "Wouldn’t they claim that right for Seagard? Or the Baneforts for, well, Banefort?"
"The Roost serves Seagard, and as they defend so do we," Jarod says with a shrug. "Everyone serves someone. That comes parcel with ours to the Mallisters. As for the Baneforts, different coasts. But, aye, perhaps. They see more reavers in those parts than we do here, for certain. You say you're a captain? Did you bring your ship to port in the Riverlands? Seagard would be the natural place, though I can't imagine they'd be too hospitable to it."
Is that the faint hint of a smile that crosses Nares' features as Jarod mentions the high rates of raiding in Banefort? Who can say, maybe it was just a trick of the light. "My ship and it's crew remain at my Lord's bidding," he replies after a moment, choosing his words carefully lest he give away more information than he intends. Taking up the ale again he downs what remains and calls for another.
"Huh." That sound is made, with a nod, as Jarod kind of turns over that reply in his head. It's muttered into his ale cup, though, so he doesn't seem to take offense at the reticence. His outward manner, certainly, remains pleasant. "As it should, I figure. We all serve somebody. Always seems to come back to that. Have you been long in the service of the Harlaws? I'm ever curious, when I meet a fighting man, how he came to carry it."
With his tankard refilled Nares turns back to Jarod and his question. His answer is a simple one, straight forward, "Ever since I was given to the sea to be drowned." Well, oaky, that’s a straight forward answer if you're Ironborn. "And yourself?" he asks, turning the conversation away from himself, "What brings you to Terrick colours?"
"I am the Rivers of Lord Jerold," Jarod replies, as to that, pushing his own tankard across the bar for a refill. "His natural son, that is. Seemed the proper path to take, to serve my lord father's house, and I took to working with a blade passing enough well. Given to the sea?" This does make him curious. "Lady Kathryna has spoken a little of this. How your priests…drown themselves when taking their vows. Have you done the same?"
"Ah," Nares replies as something obviously clicks in his head, "you're one of the bastards this lot are always talking about." He indicates the room at that point, although he's careful not to have emphasised the loaded word he's just thrown casually into the conversation. As for the priests, he shakes his head at that, "I'm no priest, but they don't drown themselves, the other priests do it for them." See, isn't that much clearer now.
Kathryna stalks into the room and, injured or not, it's like there is a storm cloud over her entire being. Her arctic eyes have turned to pure ice. She's moving with more angered force than one's seen her walking with in a long time. She's fully dressed and carrying her little trunk that she brought with her from the Iron Isles behind her.
"I am a bastard sword, aye," Jarod says. He takes no offense at the word. Or, if he does, he's learned to cover it well in wry jolliness. "Rivers here. Pykes where your lot are from. Hill in the West, Snow in the North. We all fall from different places, but we're all of us bastards. Are they talking on Rivers in general or me in particular?" He's at the bar, drinking ale and talking up Nares. It's a more or less hopping evening at the Rockcliff, most of the tables full and the place ringing with the sound of many conversations as the dinner hour turns to the drinking hour. But, chatty as Jarod is, he can't miss Kathryna's entrance. Low whistle. "Oh, look. There is the lady who you serve, if not as her retinue. Looks…huh." He takes a moment to think on the possible import of this.
Nares' eyes flick from Jarod, then to Kathryna and finally back to Jarod. He almost says something for a moment, but then thinks better of it for one reason or another. Instead he just answers the question posed, "From what I've heard I couldn't say, but multiple. That done he turns back to Kate, ordering another ale from the barman loudly enough that she should hear and be able to home in on if she chooses.
Kathryna is still looking a bit glassy eyed, most certainly not fully recovered from the day before, but she also looks like she might gut someone who accuses her of not being one hundred percent. "I need a room." She growls at one of the bar keeps, "Yes. The one from this weekend will be fine." She orders flatly, offering over her trunk — clearly there is no sensitive material inside, or she never would. Her eyes then flicker around the room, searching for anyone who even tries to dare lock her gaze in a challenge. Does someone -want- a fight? She looks very well like she'd be willing to give it at the moment, injured or not. Fortunately, it's Nares and Jarod that she catches sight of in her search. She growls lightly to herself and stalks over towards their table. "Two ales… a whole bloody pitcher, that is… all the fucking ale in the land for this table." She hisses.
"M'Lady Harlaw." The greeting from Jarod is just a touch wary. "You…err…tired of the tower?" Not much else he's going to say. He's treading carefully.
Nares watches Kathryna as she so delicately reserves herself lodgings. With Jarod next to him he can't ask what he initially wants to but he figures he'll see how she responds to the Knight and match his own actions accordingly. "Evening," he offers as she approaches, "I take it you told the Maester to fuck off after all then." His tone is faintly amused, but he's keeping it well in check, hoping Kathryna gets the reference.
Kathryna looks over towards Jarod at his greeting, her normally raspy, husky words more of a growl right now. "No. I told the Lady Evangeline to fuck off… though in more polite words." She answers to both of them, moving to sink down into a chair not quite so jarring as she might normally sit. She grabs the back of it and turns it around so she can straddle the thing before sitting. "She kicked me out because I refused to cease training with the men. I told her I'd sit proper. I cleaned up my language. I wouldn't take men to the Tower, which I never fucking did anyway… but the line is drawn when it comes to training. I stop with a sword here and I'll never be able to go back home. Fucking bitch!"
"I'd appreciate it if you refrained from calling the Lady of the Roost names like that in public, m'lady," Jarod says. Though his request lacks any real ire. "In private…well, that's your own affair. Did she now?" He makes a 'Huh' sound. "The men're really none of her business, in terms of what she can order for their training. She and I will perhaps talk on that." He gets thoughtful, drinking on his ale. "Not that it'll resolve matters between the pair of you, but she should respect my place as I respect hers. I'll tell my lord father and young lord brother you can be found here, in the meantime."
Nares taps his palm on the table twice, a 'hear hear' gesture. "It's mostly men you end up fighting," he replies with a flash of a smile, "it's stupid not to train with us too." Maybe not right now, given the bump on her head, but in general principal. Takes another drink "Your uncle would be less than impressed if your skills were lacking when you returned." He drops a mention of Lord Harlaw in there for Jarod's benefit, just incase the younger man needed a hint that this is indeed a cultural thing, and not just Kate being, well bloody minded for the sake of it.
Kathryna is about to say something more to Jarod, but then she catches herself and she just nods. "Aye, Ser Jarod. Forgive my words…that was… Unkind. I am just… Frustrated." She does actually seem genuinely apologetic for being so crass. She doesn't wish to cause a diplomatic issue, she just… Is beyond livid. She grabs at her ale and gulps back three long drags of it, letting it soothe her throat and mind before she sets it down and breathes out slowly, managing not to belch. "…Aye. Alright. Goodness. Better. Thank you, Ser Jarod… I would very much appreciate if you might put in a… kind word for me. Asvard here is right. I… would very well possibly not -survive- returning home, if I let myself slack in training. I genuinely don't do this just to be an affront to Riverland sensibilities. Fuck, if the woman wants me to put on a dress, I'll put on a damned dress. But don't ask me to let my blade rust."
"That's nearly beside the point. How you conduct your affairs in the training yard should be none of Lady Evangeline's say," Jarod says. "If Lord Jerold or I or Ser Revyn don't care for it, that's another matter. But that is not her…sphere of influence. Anyhow. I shall have words with her. Perhaps spending a few nights at the Rockcliff would not be poor for diplomacy, however." He's done with his ale, which he forks over a few coppers for. "I should be headed home. Interesting conversation, Captain." That to Nares. "M'Lady. Hope your head is faring better."
Nares glances across to Jared and gives a brief nod to back up what Kathryna says before taking a moment to do another quick glance around. Fortunately, the outburst seems to have been largely smothered by the conversations of others. How much so? Only time will tell. As Jarod makes the depart he lifts his tankard in acknowledgement of the parting words then takes another drink. "So, you're hear for the night then?" he asks to Kate, not really expecting an answer, "do you have a tab running already or shall I get one started?"
Kathryna frowns a bit more at Jarod's words, but she doesn't look quite so worried or pissed as she was, as he mentions it being his purview and not the woman's. "Well, Ser Jarod, I would be quite…. Appreciative if you would speak on my behalf. And send my apologies as well. We all have tempers. Be… be safe out there. Have a good evening, Ser." She bows her head respectfully to the knight, her temper mostly quelled by the prospect of maybe not being in the wrong… and probably by ale. She looks back to Nares. "I've got it. And aye, I'm here for a night… or a week, or however long this all takes. Though, if you feel like playing politics, perhaps you should be the damned diplomat." She smirks quietly.
Jarod offers a flourishing bow to the pair of Ironborn, which draws not a few looks. Still, one of them's a lady. And he seems to bow as much for performance as anything else. He takes his leave of the Rockcliff, on that note.