|Summary:||Both Ser Rivers ponder the question, as it relates to one Rowan Nayland. What answers they come to, about the squire and each other, aren't quite clear.|
|Related Logs:||Melee at the Roost; On the Mend; Visiting Hours|
|Sept of the Seven — Terrick's Roost|
|The Sept of Terrick's Roost is not a grand spectacle but achieves its power through the feeling of community and peace within. Like any Sept, the mood is generally quiet so people might offer prayers or thoughts without interruption. Along the sides are the seven statues in life-size form of the seven Gods, each in its own particular pose familiar to anyone who knows of them. All but the statue of the Stranger have small offerings lain at their feet or candles lit. At the very head of the Sept is a large window that faces out across the water, the altar rising in front of it. Directly to its front are a few rows of pews and behind that is the standing room for the peasantry. In that area the floor is lain out with a bright seven-pointed star in representation of the Gods.|
|Tue Oct 25, 288|
The day has been busy enough with the large number of people to speak to or drink and eat with, as well as regular training. So, Gedeon is away from the Sept for the day, but come dusk, he's quietly returned, glancing about to see who else, besides the proe squire, is in residence.
Jarod is in residence, and has been since the early part of the afternoon. Mostly visiting the beaten squire form of Rowan Nayland, though he's recently migrated to the Sept prayer area itself. A few candles lit to the Warrior and the Mother, and he migrates again, stepping away from the altars and heading out. And it's on the way that he meets Gedeon. Ser Rivers of Terrick has a tired look about him, and he didn't bother to shave this morning, plainly. It's quite likely he didn't actually sleep the previous night. "Ser Rivers," he greets the Tordane bastard wryly.
"Ser Rivers," Gedeon returns with a faint smile. "How is he, then? For that matter, how are you?"
"I'm a bit battered, but I'll live," Jarod replies to the second part of that question first, returning the faint smile with a tired but easy grin of his own. "Yourself? Rowan's doing…better. I think. I'm not a septon, how the hell do I know? He's sleeping now."
Gedeon lifts his arm to show off its bandage. "Not to poorly in body," he says, arm dropping again. "If he hasn't gotten worse by this point, I think it's safe to assume he's on his way to recovering. Thank goodness for that, at least."
"Aye, thank the Seven for it, hard as he tried to foil them." Jarod's tone is wry, and touched with worry. "He should've yielded long before he did. Didn't need to come to this."
"No, he didn't," Gedeon agrees softly, "but he was trying to prove something, and I don't think good sense really registers when he gets something between his teeth. Still, I will have Ser Alek hear my piece on it. It was poorly done."
"Poorly done all around," Jarod agrees, though he speaks not on Ser Alek. A pause and he asks, "Do you seriously intend to knight…him? I heard…" But Jarod doesn't bother to say what he heard, or where he heard it. "He's not ready, Gedeon. This well proves it, and not because he came away from the field downed. He doesn't have the discipline for it yet, and he hasn't learned to respect his fellow knights enough to know when to call them his betters. That'll be the end of him. *Him* moreso even than most other stupid boys who were dubbed before they should've been."
"No," Gedeon answers. "I had hoped… but no. Not after that showing. He made a name for himself at the joust, I thought if he could hold his own in the melee, witnessed by so many, were he knighted based on that, who could contest it? Even in the future if things… changed." He shakes his head. "Sometimes, I feel the only thing that will teach him discipline is his own mistakes. Seven knows he rarely heeds anything else."
Jarod smirks. "I figured that's why you pressed him into it. To teach him a lesson. Show him the reality of what he was facing. Anyone can get lucky on a tilt, and what he was was *damned* lucky. Not that I'm not grateful for it, saved my family some shame but…In the melee it's the bare of you as a warrior, against men who are well eager to show you precisely how good you aren't. I might've done the same, were he still my squire."
"I hear you've a pair of them, now." Squires, Gedeon must mean. "I did hope he might prove himself ready, he's doing very well in training. He might had had a better chance, if Alek had not…" there is a small scowl and a shake of his head.
"If Lord Banefort keeps young Caytiv Hill on here, I'll certainly take him," Jarod says. "I need to settle that with his lordship now that the tourney's over. I've been letting him do for me to keep him busy but…serving a bastard knight isn't the same as squiring to a young lord, and that's what young Hill was granted the chance at when he was sent here. If the Lord Banefort can find him a better opportunity elsewhere, I'll not call it a a slight." As for the latter, he shakes his head. "It wasn't Ser Coope. Not from where I sat. He wanted a piece of the splindy boy who thought to stand on a man's field, I'll grant that. But the rest…it was Rowan. He…just makes things harder on himself. I think without even knowing how most of the time."
"Perhaps," Gedeon allows with a small nod. "Certainly, he's a gift for the dramatic."
Jarod snorts at that, though it's accompanied by a smile that's warm, and something more than fond. "That's an understatement. Not that that's so bad sometimes." He clears his throat, looking down for a moment, then up at Gedeon again. No longer smiling. "What is going on between the pair of you, anyhow? I mean…what now?"
"He'll come back to Oldstones. Perhaps the change in location will help things a little," Gedeon replies.
"Perhaps." Jarod doesn't sound convinced, but he doesn't really argue it. "She sure as seven hells can't stay here. My lord father might shield her from the Naylands, if he knew what she was, but she'd never be…what she wants to be at the Roost. Wouldn't have worked even if she'd stayed my squire."
"Yes," Gedeon agrees with a soft sigh. "I think we're all aware that had things but fallen another way, Rowan would have remained at the Roost. As it is," the blond knight musters up a smile, "I am sure you will be a regular and welcome visitor to Oldstones."
"My lord father hopes Lord Ser Anton'll swear his fealty to us soon. If he weds Luci," Jarod says. "That'd make mattters…simpler in some ways. At least while Rowan's still a squire. Do you honestly think she'll ever be ready for the knighthood, Gedeon? There'll always be a Ser Alek. Most ten times worse than Ser Alek."
"Most aren't, in fact," Gedeon says wryly. "Ser Alex is one of the more skilled men I've seen with a blade, and he's spent these last five years honing it on true battlefields. Many men have been knighted who could not yet defeat him. But I do think, with more time, Rowan could be ready. The lessons needed have less to do with skill, for the most part. More to do with patience and planning."
"You and I couldn't beat Ser Alek on the field, Gedeon, you know that isn't my point," Jarod says. "But the discipline, the patience, the planning…those aren't such simple things to teach as sword forms. And they're more important for her. She'll get herself nothing but dead without them and I…" He trails off, letting out a long breath.
"Neither of us would see that happen," Gedeon assures quietly, "and Rowan won't be knighted until he can prove himself ready. You've my word on it."
Jarod frowns, though the expression isn't really directed at Gedeon. "Rowan staying your squire is probably the best situation he could be in for now anyhow, all things considered. Whatever comes of it." He shrugs his broad shoulders. "I should be getting back to the tower. Let Rowan known I'll be back around tomorrow eve, aye?"
"I will," Gedeon agrees. He fetches a chair to carry it over to the "lad's" bedside. And there, Gedeon will wait, until morning.
Jarod casts a long look over his shoulder at Gedeon making camp by Rowan's bedside, expression hard to read. Not that the other Rivers is looking his way anyhow. Finally, he lets out another long breath and turns to stride out of the sept.