|Time Heals All Wounds|
|Summary:||Ser Jarod visits a recovering Ser Rygar.|
|Related Logs:||Eschaton of Stonebridge|
|A no doubt severe and disapproving room.|
|Sun May 06, 289|
Jarod has come to Tordane Tower in search of Ser Rygar Nayland. He's dressed well and somberly, in black doublet with gold threading around the collar and cuffs. It could be taken for mourning garb, but the colors also mirror his 'bastard' heraldry, and it's garb he favors when playing a more formal part among his betters. He asks a servant if the Nayland knight will see him. And will wait to be shown back to wherever Rygar is being stowed if so, presuming the Nayland man isn't ambulatory enough to walk out and receive visitors.
A presumption which proves unfit, as Rygar emerges from one of the side chambers, dressed as befits a gentleman. Although his movements are still, his doublet is buttoned to the collar, and a swordbelt circles his waist. If he required a squire's assistance in getting his boots on, no one could tell by the sight of him. A curt nod and word of greeting are given to Jarod. "Ser."
"Ser Rygar." The Nayland knight is offered a half-bow. "I had wanted to see how you were recovering, Ser, and it looks to be well. Your wounds taken in the duel were not lasting, I trust?"
"Wounds, heal, Ser. It is their nature," Rygar voices in return, his chilly method of speech at least unchanged by the recent violence. "Have you business to discuss?"
"Time heals all things, Ser, save death. Though at times it leaves wounds to fester even when it's long cauterized them." As to the question, Jarod hesitates a beat. Seemingly a little unsure of himself. "I've some business, Ser, yes. Lord Riordan has offered me a place here, in service of Stonebridge, and I was wondering how the idea would stand with you if I did bend knee to this household."
"Yes, I have heard," Rygar notes to the hesitant subject of the present speech. "I say that an oath of service ought not be conditional. Yet, my cousin is more.. forgiving than I would be, it seems," he notes with a short sniff. "As well, it is the duty of a vassal to defend the interests of their liege. Are you honestly capable of that, Ser?"
"I think I could be, Ser, given how matters stand," Jarod says. "The challenge was a judicial duel. Ser Gedeon's claim to Stonebridge, and my family's hope of retaining it, died with him. In the eyes of law and the gods. That should be the end of it." From the way he says it he knows it won't be. "The Terricks might've held the town with Lord Tordane's son, and built something here they could prosper on. But that dream is dead now, and things'll have to change, to my mind. Between my blood and yours."
"Before you bend knee, Ser, you ought be certain that you will," the stern Nayland opines to Jarod's answer that he thinks he could be. The remainder of the once-Rivers' words is met with a short dip of Rygar's chin. "On that we are in accord, Ser."
"I will not unless I am, Ser. I am presently thinking on it very hard, and this audience is a part of that. I want…" Jarod takes a moment to gather his thoughts, as if he's not even sure how to say what's in him. "…we've spoken many times of fealty and honor, Ser, and how you believe them broken in this land. I would like to have believed you wrong but…Good King Robert said he would kill the Greyjoy traitor for his uprising, and for his crimes against the River coasts, and the Wester and Northern ones. And yet he did not, Ser. Balon Greyjoy lives, diminished but still with a son who'll carry on his despicable name one day and sit as a highlord. And we who bled together against the squids return home to bleed each other, like none of it mattered. And I think Ser…if the world was as I would like it to be, and as my father taught me it should be…this would not be the way of things."
"Good," Rygar states plainly to the former assurance, before offering crisply to Jarod's latter that, "The truth is rarely pleasant to look upon, Ser. But to bear the sight of it is necessary in an honest man." At last, he gives his opinion, such as it is, on Jarod's possible service. "I would not cast out as faithless until given cause by future action, Ser."
"Of all the things I am, I do not think faithless is among them. Perhaps I'd live a simpler life if I was." Jarod nods to the minimal and grudging not-quite-approval from Rygar. "I thank you, Ser. I have one last query for you, and then I'll leave you to your rest. If my lord father made an honest gesture to mend things between Terrick and Nayland, do you think the harpy lord would accept it?"
Rygar draws a steady breath before answering. "Prior to the Pretender's elevation, he was prepared to do so, Ser. I have not spoken with the Lord of the Mire since that word, and cannot speak to his mind."
Jarod nods to that. What precisely he makes of it is unclear. "I bore Ser Gedeon a good deal of…sentiment, I suppose. From when we were boys. And both being Rivers as we were. But the law and the gods ruled against him and perhaps that is not wrong. I would like to do…the right thing, Ser. My father is also a man who tries very hard to do the right thing."
"If your father would clear his sight and see truth as you have, perhaps he might succeed, Ser," Rygar offers to Jarod's last. "This support of a corrupt champion ill becomes him." A short, slow breath is drawn, and he leaves off talk of Jerold Terrick. "Is there aught else, Ser?"
Jarod says nothing in defense, or condemnation, of Gedeon Rivers. He just offers the Nayland knight a short nod. "Not at present, Ser. I am glad your wounds were not mortal for you." He offers another short bow and makes to depart.
Rygar nods curtly in parting, offering the same word he had greeted Jarod with: "Ser," before turning away from the spur-less knight and moving with short, measured steps back toward his personal chamber. If one were not acquainted with his habitually purposeful stride, the knight's gain might pass for normal.