|Who Said Anything About Children?|
|Summary:||Rafferdy goes to see his Father about the matter of his betrothal.|
|The Grand Hall is furnished as one may expect for a family that has funneled their treasury towards more practical uses, though the room is certainly deserving of the name. This massive hall is large enough to host a feast for more than one hundred people and still seats the Lord's throne at the head of the room upon a dais. Black iron hangers hold a pair of silver, candle-lit chandeliers in a line from the main doors to the throne. Two doors lead off near the throne, one on each side of the head of the room while a spiral staircase has been built into the wall on one side by an armored door.|
|Wed Jun 06, 289|
Rafferdy is pacing in the Grand Hall. He's a bit nervous. He doesn't call on his father, and yet now, he's been here thrice in as many months. He swallows, and paces a bit more. He's wearing noble clothing. Even went so far as to choose something with sleeves. It truly is a special occasion.
Rickart Nayland comes sweeping into the hall in his familiar attire, and with a broad smile deepening the wrinkles upon his face. "Rafferdy, my boy. Sit, sit! Have a drink before you wear a hole in the rugs." A glance aside commands one of the servants, "Bring a drink for my son, and a pair of drinks for me. Ha!"
Rafferdy sighs, "Yessir…" He moves over to join his father at the table. "I um… Thank you for seeing me unannounced, Father." He sits down. "A drink would be good. Yeah."
"Maiden's tits, boy already with your sighing? Damnation, if this is going to be a dreary meeting, I'll need a third drink." Raising his voice to holler after the departed servant, "Just bring a bloody pitcher!" before settling into his own seat, and cracking a fresh grin. "So tell me, my boy: what is this new business of yours?"
Rafferdy smirks a bit, tapping his fingers on the table, "Sorry…" He pushes a full smile forward then. "You asked me… Last time, when I was here, if I had any ideas for myself for betrothal." He leans forward. "I kind of… have an opinion. I think."
"Oh, have you now?" Rickart prompts with a raised brow and deeper grin. "Well out with it, boy! I've found a few prospects for you, but let's we hear who's caught your eye, eh?"
Rafferdy tilts his head, and he laughs, "Oh, YOU'VE found a few prospects?" He laughs a bit more, rolling his eyes, "I can only imagine the kind of bags you'd have me bed for their land," he teases. "Well," he begins, "I know it's not the most profitable for us, but, to be honest, I'm far enough from the eldest that I haven't much to offer myself, so…" He smiles, and leans forward again, and with a bit of intensity, declares, "Lady Katrin Haigh."
"Ha! Go cry into your beer, boy- If I'm to have more grandchildren, I'd need to set you with a comely piece of ass, must'nt I?" Rickart barks in laughter at Rafferdy's teasing. "Lady Katrin Haigh, you say?" he muses, leaning back in the chair, and idly itching at his bearded jaw. "The Haighs are one family we havn't managed to piss off, just yet. That could be a fit match, indeed."
Rafferdy nods, "They've plenty in terms of riches. Her dowry could be quite satisfactory. A Haigh marrying a Nayland could give their family a bit of a boost in terms of simple prestige and alliance." He shrugs, and smiles kind of playfully. "And she's a helluva looker."
Another sharp laugh meets Rafferdy's last. "Good!" A deeply drawn breath is held a moment as the drinks are at last delivered, and Rickart takes up one. "I'll write up a letter to old Lord Haystacks. After a few words back and forth, I should know within a fortnight or so. I certainly have no reason to say no."
Rafferdy looks a little surprised, "Really? That's… That's it then?" He smiles, and laughs a little, "I um… Thank you." He smiles fully, "And here I was fearful you'd let Riordan sell me off to a Terrick." He finally takes a drink from the mug left by the servant.
Rickart winces, "Fucking a Terrick is a lot like buggering a bird, I'm told: all they do is squawk and flap around a lot." Taking up his cup, he voices, "A toast! To better ties with our allies of Haigh, and to you, my boy: a man isn't a proper man until he's begotten children."
Rafferdy chokes a little on his drink, "Children!" He coughs a few times, "Gods, Father. I'm barely okay with the idea of MARRYING, let's not jump to little ones. Please!" He clears his throat, catching his breath from his slight choke. He lifts his glass, "To… just marriage… for right now, eh?" He smirks a bit.
Rickart chuckles and snorts, downing a long gulp of his drink. "What do you imagine the purpose of marriage is, boy? Fucking is so fine for a bloody reason," he notes with a second chuckle. "It will be a lengthy betrothal, I imagine. So many folk have been so damnabley hasty I dont imagine old Haystacks will settle for less than four months, but we'll see."
Rafferdy furrows his brow as he takes a drink. "Four months." He considers it, and then nods, "Whatever you think is best, Father," he offers with a little smile. "Should I remain here until you've word, or would you prefer I return to Stonebridge?"
Rickart rolls his shoulder in an easy shrug. "Don't see any reason for you to hang about. I'll send word to you at Stonebridge when I have it," he decides.
Rafferdy nods, finishing his drink. "Thank you, Father." He rises, and begins heading towards the door. He pauses once there, turning to say something, but then shuts his mouth. He might just make it out without pissing the old man off this one time, so he heads out.