|Summary:||Jocelyn and Tyroan have questions for one another. But they're polite ones.|
|Related Logs:||Trial By Combat|
|Map Room, Tordane Tower|
|This room used to be the smallest of the guest rooms in Tordane Tower, but all of the previous furniture has been removed save a small side-table that holds two or three tankards and a pitcher of bitter Mire beer. Several other small tables have been added around the walls, holding a selection of books and parchments brought in from the library. Additionally, a standing table is centered in the room, surrounded by tall stool-like chairs built to its height. Atop that table is a large map of Stonebridge and its surrounding area, with colored blocks placed across it in the troop positions from the last Battle of Stonebridge.|
|15 November, 289|
Some whisper that the Steward of Stonebridge lives in his little map room. It's true that he rarely finds himself elsewhere unless talking with prominent merchants around town, overseeing levy drill, or on another specific errand. And it's also true that he's currently in the map room. He's not, however, going over books. Instead, his little squire is perched up on one of the high chairs, and the two are looking over the map with its little blocks representing troop deployments. Tyroan points to one, "And what if these levies had broken?" And he tips the block over, drawing it back from the entrance to the town. The little squire frowns, scratching at his head, then his ass, then points, "Uh… we'd be fucked, Ser?"
When she'd asked around as to where she might find her Uncle, Jocelyn should probably have known that she was going to be found in the map room. It seemed to where he was everytime she wanted to speak to him. Making her way up to the door, her maid had been left to tend to other things. She wasnt going to get into too much trouble stying within the tower walls. Outside the door she takes a deep breath and smooths out her skirts before she lifts a hand and knocks on the Map Room door. She'll wait until she hears indication that she can or should open the door, and then it will be pushed open slowly and she will slip inside the room. "Good Day, Uncle." a smile bright on her lips as she walks in and pauses in order to give him a curtsey of greeting.
Tyroan oh-so-casually swats his squire in the back of the head, "Watch your fucking language. But yes, if they broke, the buggery would begin. A good commander could have still saved…" he trails off as his niece knocks on the half-open door. Eying the squire still rubbing his head, Tyroan waves him out, "Go on, scram. Go clean my fucking armor." The squire grumbles, but obeys, and Tyroan gestures for Jocelyn to join him at the table, "Come on in. Have a seat." He doesn't sit himself, evidently prefering to stand around the high table. "What can I do for you, niece?" A tight smirk stretches across his lips, "And what's this I hear about you bringing a fucking boy home?"
Giving the squire a sympathetic look, Jocelyn moves out of his way so that can best leave the quickest way possible. Coming around to the high table, she takes one of the seats that are indicated. "Well, I was-" she stops short when he asks about a bring a boy home. Staring at him and blinking, her finger fiddle with each other and then her skirts. Of course he'd heard about that, he heard about everything. "Indeed, Lord Perrin Haigh was kind enough to escort me to the Mire after the wedding at Highfield and then saw me home to Stonebridge to ensure my safety." taking her time to gather it her thoughts, she lifts her head to look at him and keeping her chin strong, "I thought it best to befriend a Haigh. Considering the damage that was previous done between that House and our own with Cousin Rafferdy. I thought that if I could open a doorway just a crack, I might be able to pave a way for our Houses to become friendly again."
Tyroan lets his smirk spread, "Good thinking." He reaches out to prop the little bit of wood representing the Nayland pikes back up, then moves around to refill his tankard of bitter Mire beer, holding it up slightly in question after he's done. "And inviting him to the Tower too. Sorry I was too fucking distracted with that little fuckwit," that would be his new 'pet' name for his recently-cleared nephew, "to meet with him. Get Lady Sabriel here is a good start, but it's going damned-well take time and effort to get on their good side." His smirk tightens again, and he chuffs a laugh, "And for them to get on our good side. So then. What's on your fucking mind?"
A soft laugh spills out of Jocelyn with the title of 'fuckwit'. Lowering her gaze and realizing it wasnt meant to be funny, she keeps her eyes cast down until the laughter has subsides. When she lifts them again, they watch her Uncles movements, nodding slowly, the amusment still lightening her eyes. "Its alright, Uncle. I told him how busy of a man you are and he was at the Trail by Combat, he understand that our House is dealing with much. Things that require your time and energies to be spread thin." She wasnt flattering him, she was just speaking as she saw it to be. There was much to do and it required that her Uncle be a very busy man, "It takes time to pick up all the pieces." sighing, "Actually, Uncle, what is on my mind has to do with this very thing." Straightening a bit more in her seat she says, "Its going to take much time for both sides to feel that we could all be in each others good Graces. But its not impossible." Tilting her head, "With your permission, I'd like to go to Broadmoor. I've been invited to stay and I should like to go. The door has been opened and I'd like to see what I can do to flatter and smile my way into that Households graces." There was determination behind her words, "I can do this."
Tyroan arches his brows at the laughter, but he shrugs a little helplessly, draining off a measure of his beer as he comes back to the big table. "Wonderful. So he saw that fucking fiasco. Never should have made it an open affair." He's grumbling now, but that's a soldier's sacred right, after all. Harrumphing a little, he sets his tankard down and braces his forearms on the edge of the table, thinking in silence for a long moment. Steel-grey eyes measure his niece, and then he nods sharply, "You'll take two of the Guard with you. Keep in fucking contact while you're there. Should be plenty of fucking merchants between here and there to send letters with." He gathers up a pair of walnuts from a small bowl on the table, rolling them against each other within one hand, "We'll fucking need that dowry from Lady Sabriel once we can get it. Wouldn't do to have anything fucking that up."
Nodding once, Jocelyn response "Of Course Uncle. I'd like to take the same guards I had with me for my Travel to Highfield, they did an exception job, especially when I was around all those Ashwoods." A shiver runs up her spine and she has to shake it off before allowing it tight to take root in her, completely souring her mood. "From what I understand, his family will all be returning to Broadmoor for a time. It will allow me the opertunity to get to know his cousins, sister, brother and parents a like. Doing so, I'll be able to be privy to some matters that might very well help us." she smiles slowly and softly, "He trusts me. I'll of course keep you informed of anything and be in contact. He mentioned wanting to have a tourney there, with his Fathers permission. You very well might be given another chance to meet him and see what I can do." licking her lips she nods, "It wouldnt do any good to have anything f-uhhh..ffffumbled about right now. I'll be happy to ensure that Lady Sabriel is happy while I am here. I could make a mission of mine to befriend her before I leave."
Tyroan squeezes his hand tight around the walnuts at the mention of the Ashwood name. There's a bit of near-silent strain from the shells, and then one cracks and crumbles in his gnarled hand. Plucking the whole one free and tossing it back into the bowl, he begins picking the meat out of the shell fragments. "She seems to be making friends well enough. One more can't fucking hurt though." He smirks a little, "And you won't fucking offend me if you curse in private." Brushing hthe remaining shell back into the walnut bowl, he looks up from under his brows, "In public… well, there's some things you've got to be fucking old to get away with." The Steward offers out some of the nut, popping one piece into his mouth and chewing, "You know we've got fuck-all for a dowry right now, right? Unless they want grain instead of gold, and I'd be godsdamned insulted if they did."
With amazement she watched as the walnut had cracked and broke under the grip of his hand. How-those-what? Those had hard shells. Never underestimate a Nayland, again she learned and again it made her glad she was on the right side of things. "I seem to have knack for making people trust me and confide in me. If I could get to a point where she did the same, well, I could possible prevent things from happening that would prevent us from getting the dowry that we so badly need from her." A blush creeps on her cheeks when its pointed out about her cursing, "I promise you, I've only cursed out loud at Ashwoods when I was held captive. I've not done so in public that so many could hear. It eases me to know it would not offend you, because in private its usally when my temper reaches its boiling point from having to smile ever so much and smooth over rumors." as if they hurt right now, a hand is lifted to her cheeks and rubs at the soft pads rose white plush skin. "You're confidence in me is very encouraging, But I do not think he is ready discuss a betrothal as of yet. But, yes, I know." sighing, she glances up that the ceiling or heaven. "If the alliance were to happen, he better fucking love me, cause we wouldnt have anything else."
Tyroan finishes up the walnut, brushing off his hands and then taking a swig of his beer, "If anyone's stupid enough to take you captive again, you've got my fucking permission to curse the shit out of them. Because they won't be alive fucking long enough to tell anyone what you said." He snorts softly at the mention of betrothal, "If we've already got a fucking link to the Haighs, it doesn't pay to make another anyhow." Grunting softly, he admits, "Although that one'd be a whole lot better than some girl Lord Haystack doesn't want. After all, Ser Perrin's only one haystack from the top. It's the Erenfords we'll have to try to marry you or Meri into." There's a pause, and he admits, "Or Vis, although I don't want to fucking force that on her, not so soon." Of course, he has no problems forcing Aeron into a marriage 'so soon.'
"If I get taken captive again, I very much down I will be saying anything other than curse words for a long period of time." Jocelyn informs her Uncle. It'd already happen twice, if it happen a third… welll… "I'd begin to think I was cursed myself. Some spell on me." Nodding her head slowly, "It is true, there is already that link. Though, if Lord Harys were to die…" she tilts her head and casts her eyes up toward her uncle. "Perrin would be the next in line. There have been so many deaths recently. Bandits. Murders." ticking off all the types, "Even some poisons. Even Erenford is the way of it, The only real answer is Ser Nevan. Both Ser Otto and Ser Brennart are married. And at that Ser Nevan is the third child son." moving her head back and forth as if weighing the choice, "Though, I'm sure there are a man other cousins somewhere in the line that are still single." She does not even touch on Vis for now, there was no point the poor girl was still so heart broken.
Tyroan snorts at the mention of the curse, "Nonsense. Ana fucking likes you." He nods his head at the possibility of a dead in the Haigh family, "The Haighs are fucking due." He pauses, then snorts a laugh, "Unless you count that fucking buggery with the burned girl, but I'd roll that up with the fuckwit's problem, myself." He nods at her reading of the Erenford situation, "Suppose we could get one of their daughters married to one of your fucking brothers. Or one of the less idiotic of Rickart's sons." He grunts softly, "You'll be going through Heronhurst on the way through. I should send them a letter. We're due a fucking Heron to watch over our docks, and it'd be good to see if something could be worked out with a marriage."
Shakes her head, "I think that girl got what she deserved if you ask me." which he didnt, but Jocelyn gave her opinion anyway. "She was asking for trouble and finally got it. I dont count that towards the Haighs, I count that towards a girls stupidity." Her fingers come together and grasp each other on top of her skirts. "You know I'll do whatever is best for the Family, and if you dont know that, I'm telling you now. I'm only trying to think of more possibilties consider the situation we now in. We owe the Erenfords much for their support during the war, so if they are our salvation to this…This mess, then we'll and I'll do whatever is required of me. and I'll of course be happy to ride through and deliver whatever message you have for them. Lady Aemy has invited me to stay any time I wish, and it would be good resting place if I've need to be there."
Tyroan nods his agreement with the first point as he takes another drink of his beer, "Oh, that's just about how I fucking figure it too. Besides Old Haystacks being too fucking full of himself and looking down his nose at a Nayland." There's a moment's pause, and then he snorts aloud, "Probably for the fucking best now." He lets that die, however, nodding, "If you want to spread some smiles around with my fucking letter, that wouldn't go amiss either." A dry smirk twists his lips, "Ana always says I write 'curtly.'" Taking another swig of his beer, he adds, "She's just lucky I don't write like I fucking talk."
"Most of everyone has been looking down their nose at Nayland for far too long. Its about time that things are set straight and that even if they dont look like us much, they dont look down at us. They have as many screw ups in their family as we have." a beat of pause, "Ok, maybe not so many, but a decent amount of them." Jocelyn laughs again, her smile returning, "Why, spreading smiles and laughter about is what I'm espcially good at. Its what keeps me in the good graces that I am now with certain ones. Do you know, I had one of the cruels of men that were in camp while I was held captive with the Ashwoods, he came and apologized. I think I could have pushed him over with a feather when I accepted his apology. He was expecting to for me to slap him I think. Which I very well wanted to." Shifting in her chair, she says, "There is a difference between a mans letter of business and a womans letter of business. The men do not see a need for flowery words that will be a pillow for what is to follow. Its either good or bad. Thats it."
Tyroan smirks at the screw-up comparison, "The same fucking percentage, at least." He gestures to himself, then around the room in general, "There's just more of us." Still, he nods, then chuckles dryly at the description of gendered letters, "I don't know about that. You should see the fucking letters the Reach knights write. I got one from some Ser Tyrell, one of those fucking Flowers or another, back during the Nine-Penny War. It had more fucking prithees and thences and whences. I thought I was going to fucking puke. And all he wanted to do was have us move a hundred paces to the fucking left."
An idea sparks inside her, "Perhaps I should look into the percentage in the Haigh family." Jocelyn smirks, "Its always good to know these things before you walk into a House, the more you know about them, the more you know which moves to put into motions where." The fact that her Uncle just chuckled at something she said made her both surprised and happy, eyebrows rising at the sound. "From the sounds of it Uncle, I think I'd rather not read those letters. I'd more than likely doubt the men that wrote them, and thats never what you'd want in someone that defended us so."
Tyroan barks a laugh at her suggestion, "They're Haystacks. They're going to have plenty of fucking idiots. Might be more important to know which of them are the dumbshits, so we can avoid them." He shrugs at the mention of the letters, "Oh, the Flower-fuckers are brave enough when you get them out there with a sword to swing or a lance to charge with. They're just fucking pansies around camp. More purfume than an Essosi whorehouse," not that he's ever been in one, since he's never been further afield than the Stepstones, "prettier than half the girls in the Reach, and more fucking interested in honor than just kicking the shit out of their enemies." There's a pause, and he adds, "Which isn't a bad thing if you're fighting against them."
"Hmm." Jocelyn grins at him, "I'm sure I'll have the time to ask many questions and see what I can find out. You might be right, the idiots, if we know them, we can either avoid them or use them, depending on their purpose." moving back to the mention of flowerly letters, "You're creating an awfully off picture in my head." she tells him with a laugh. "At least they smelled nice." commenting on their purfume, whether he was being serious or not about that. "Being more interested in honor is something that I think most are now lacking, and their attention is now more interested in killing their enemies. Wouldnt it be nice if there could be some sort of happy middle ground for them now?"
Tyroan huffs a laugh at the 'at least they smelled nice' comment, "So long as you didn't get too close." He finishes off his tankard of ale, frowning in thought at the half-question that follows, "Honor's fucking fine for most of the time, but sometimes you just have to fucking make someone disappear. Then it's better to just do it and be fucking done with it. Pussyfooting around doesn't do anyone any good." He presses his right fist into his left palm, popping each knuckle in turn, "I'm not saying you should just kick the shit out of anyone who pisses you off, but if you have to do it, you should just damned well do it."
Slowly Jocelyn stands from her chair that she has been occupying since her arrival. Smiling her sweet smile, "I much agree with you. However, I think that those that kick the shit out of someone that deserves it is honor. Its honoring the other that would have had to deal with that person if you hadnt take care of him. And that… is another reason why I feel so deeply for our Family." Its true that she thinks so fondly of her family and it reflects in her voice, even if someone of them annoy her tears at times. "I'll leave you to your business now, Uncle, I thank you for hearing me and providing me with permission to take me leave. Inform me or have someone send me the letter you wish to have passed on to Heronhurst and I will make preperations to leave just after that." Bowing her head she gives him another curtsey. Then, after she has straighten she walks toward him and leans up on her tip toes to kiss him fondly on his cheek. Promptly after that she walks to the door and opens it, letting herself out.
Tyroan chuckles at the response to his point of view, nodding once, "Most people don't see it that way, Niece. Reach knights'd fucking call someone out in the middle of a square, facing them one on one with bright fucking sword and armor." He smirks hard, "me, I'm too fucking old for that shit." He nods his head in response to the curtsey, tilting his head to accept the kiss on the cheek, "Take care of yourself, niece. I'd rather not have to march to fucking Broadmoor to get you back. I'll get you that letter by tonight, so you can leave in the morning." And then he's looking back to his books, digging one out and opening it up to study the lines of cramped script within.