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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Feb 18, 2019 20:08:00 GMT 1
A young, red-headed squire makes his way through the crowds and now half-dissembled corpses of the once grand pavilions that had occupied the Field of Roses for the past fortnight. He moves more confident than when he had first arrived, the grandeur of Highgarden now seemingly lost on him, lost or diminished. Or muddled perhaps. Many ugly things had happen, more ugly things than he had experienced in his twelve years. And now his Master laid bound to a bed, recovering from Abelar's Riot.
But Young Garth's master, Ser Titus had at least, by the grace of the Seven, lived and had been conscious the last few days. He had now sent him to what remained of the Starling encampment to seek out Ser Roland Cordwayner. Captain of a Melee Team, Tournament Finalist and the saviour of Lady Alicent, Young Garth had little issue finding nor recognising the knight but more so when addressing him. Ser Roland was not Daemon Blackfyre, Gwayne Corbray or Redtusk, but he was hero of Highgarden and a hero of Young Garth's. It is a stammering little squire that eventually works up the courage to approach Roland and adresses him, relaying his message that Titus Blackbriar would like to see him again before departing from Highgarden.
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 2, 2019 11:36:30 GMT 1
Roland smiled, remembering the pranks men had played on nervous squires in the Dornish campaign, the memory darkening at the thought of how many failed to come home.
He strode purposefully to Ser Titus's side, making little effort to hide his pace and purpose. Seven be merciful, let us see how much of the man remains after the horrors of Highgarden.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 2, 2019 13:51:34 GMT 1
Just to clarify, this takes place before [Aftermath] True Colours
Young Garth was fairly well-grown for his age, strong and fast as one would expect from a squire and son of a blacksmith but he struggled to keep up with the purposeful strides of Ser Roland. As the make their way to the halls and towers of Highgarden he keeps glancing at the knight but stays silent unless addressed directly by Roland upon which he'd splutter a dutiful and nervous answer. Having reached the chamber Titus had been moved to he knocks and announces the arrival of Ser Roland Cordwayner - a tad too ceremonial one would imagine but such were the boy's ways. "Ser Roland, gods be good that you hadn't left yet. It's good to see you, friend." Titus Blackbriar is laid in bed, propped up to sitting by a few pillows. The major part of him covered in bandages and wrappings, some seeming to keep together cuts much deeper than other. The odd red flash of a fresh scar can be seen between. He looks tired and harrowed, with dark, heavy bags beneath his eyes and his face seems gaunter than Roland remembers. In short, the boy looks like hell but all things considered - not too bad. Despite it all he seems very happy to see Roland again. "No, Garth. You stay." he commands the young squire as he was about to make his exit. "Have a seat, Roland, please." he gestures towards the stool by his bedside. "How are you? How did you fare after the Riot? The days past... it's all a blur. I've heard many things now after though. Seems this tournament was cursed from start to finish." |
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 3, 2019 13:12:14 GMT 1
"It is good to see you awake and hear you. The Warrior still has work for you in Westeros."
Roland took the offered seat, all too familiar with sitting alongside injured comrades. It was still hard to credit that Titus had lived after the horrors of the riot.
"More cursed had you been absent."
"The melee went well at a personal level - it was a fine chance to cross swords with many vaunted knights, but it will not surprise you that this ill-starred tournament continued its bloodshed and scandal."
He solemnly recounted the events in the melee, not sparing the part Ser Symon Starkwood and others from his own team had played in matters.
His tone brightened however when he discussed the valour of House Blackbriar's captain in fighting alongside him.
"Your brother fought well too, and more's the pity, for his undoubted talent was deployed in an unworthy cause, winning a path for the Brute of Bracken to murder his foes until Ser Daeron and his heroic half brother put a stop to his menace."
Much and more followed, with Roland doing his best to inform Titus of all that had transpired, cautious as his betrothal to Alicent Yronwood was not entirely confirmed yet, but beaming with joy that the possibility had support from Lord Tyrell himself and the princes.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 4, 2019 14:30:49 GMT 1
He sat grimly and listened as Roland told of the days past and the events of Lord Tyrell's Seven Sided Contest. The dishonour of Sers Otho and Tommard, the impudence and fury of Symon Starkwood and Balon's alleged involvement in the Brutes assaults. But brightens at the stories of Blackfyre and Wildfyre bringing the Brute down as well as the chivalrous end of it all at the hand of Redtusk and his kin. Knights of honour and quality all.
"Lady Alicent?" he says with a smile and a raised eye-brow. "Gods, it's like a bard's song. Congratulation! Will you be returning to Kingsbridge then and await her Lord-father's approval or will you linger here?"
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 5, 2019 13:10:47 GMT 1
"Never have I borne a wound so gladly."
Roland beamed, pointing to the bandages at his neck where only Starling steel had kept his head attached to his shoulders.
"I shall linger here a while, then travel to Oldtown for Septon Abelar's trial. He is a godly man and seemed penitent and beset by doubt when we spoke after your heroics, but your view on what punishment is merited would weigh strongly with me."
He scratched at his beard with his left hand, his hair at least having begun to grow back beyond irrigating stubble.
Roland was direct here, friendship oft meant frankness and unpleasant truths, though he hoped against hope that some miracle would preserve Titus's jousting career.
"Do they say if you would sit a steed again? The Seven have given you one miracle, but I am happy to wear our another tunic praying for a second one."
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 5, 2019 18:40:00 GMT 1
The subject of Abelar darkens his demeanour. "Septon Abelar was family to me. Now... I don't know. They seem like separate men to me. As for his punishment... Enough blood has been spilled on his account. If I can I will see his Trial in Oldtown. If I can.
When asked of his possible improvment he sighs, "They do not know yet. I do not know yet." A flash of despair in his eyes before he seemingly pushes it away. Not now. He looks to Roland. "I'd be grateful for your prayers, Roland. But there is something else I'd like to ask of you... Garth! Come here." He motions the young squire to approach them. "This is Garth, Son of Gareth. His fathers has been the blacksmiths at Gyldenhaal for three generations. He is hardworking and I fear my injuries does not allow me to see to his continued training. A boy his age must not grow idle." No man should. "Idleness is the death of chivalry."
"Would you take it on you to see to his training? If he slacks off or does not see to his duties, discipline him or send him home. Whatever you find fair." Harsh words but spoken out of kindness. This is how his Father had trained him. "But that will not happen, will it Garth?"
The boy straightens up, duty-like and speaks. Trying to sound as mature as possible but it is clear he has reached the age where the voice does not do what the mind wishes. "No Ser! I will not disappoint you. I promise." He did not know that his master had this planned so tried to conceal the mixture of shock and excitment. Ser Roland Cordwayner was knight of great renown and Kingsbridge bred and trained many fine knights
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 6, 2019 18:22:21 GMT 1
A fine thing to consider his squire even during his own enforced idleness.
"I accept, but on two conditions - firstly, that this is only a loan. You shall have need of Garth again in the future. He shall have need of you too, to correct whatever failures I introduce in his technique."
"I am not normally one to trade favours, but I intend to make an exception here with my second condition."
"Speaking of such, my second condition is that when you are recovered you take a Kingsbridge squire or other suitable candidate I find to learn from the masterful line of Blackbriar tilters."
Roland looked to Garth, aiming for a nod and an approachable looking but not going so far as to favour the boy the with a smile.
"Should the lad prove wanting he shall be disciplined, have no concern as to that. Better that than giving both of us the easy route out and quitting the battle to make a knight of him. Lord Starling's knights are selected for skill and character rather than simply birth, a blacksmith's son will not be out of place at Kingsbridge."
Roland himself was high born, and even as a spare son was more used to dealing with other nobles. However, the results Lord Starling's unorthodox approach had produced supported looking high and low for knights. After all, his own brother and bastard brother both made poor knights, the first by lack of proficiency and the second by lack of character despite House Cordwayners storied history of champions.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 7, 2019 1:14:52 GMT 1
”Agreed. A loan, then.” he nods and smiles tiredly at his friend’s words of encouragement. ”Go with the Gods, Garth. Make Gyldenhaal proud. Start by seeing to Ser Roland’s horse and armour. Go.” the little red-head bows in a jittery, overcompensating manner and sets off. He had thanked the gods hundred-fold when Ser Donnel had suggested his training to Master Gareth, his father as Ser Titus was a skilled knight of honour but Ser Roland Cordwayner, a veteran of The Prince’s Pass and a Companion of Kingsbridge. He would thank the god a hundred-fold more after this.
”Thank you, Roland.” Titus carries on once the boy has left. ”He’s got a good heart, the lad. Kingsbridge might just be the place to make a knight out of him. Who knows, maybe one day you’ll teach him how to unhorse me too!” he chuckles, but sounds worn-out.
”Before you leave I wanted to ask you... without the boy hearing. The rumours of your family. Your baseborn brother throwing his duel. What do you make of it, if you don’t mind me asking?”
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 8, 2019 15:30:46 GMT 1
Roland smiled at Titus's joke - humour was an encouraging sign, so long as it was not of the gallows variety. After all, implicit in the joke was Titus not just sitting a horse again but jousting! Let it be so, let is be so.
When the conversation switched to House Cordwayner's tribulations it was Roland's turn to sound more somber.
"It may well be true. Although I cannot swear to it I shall strain to get to the truth of the matter."
"Lady Maegelle Cordwayner did driven me from House Cordwayner, and at this very tournament I discovered she had been keeping my letters from my niece at Hammerhal. I would not put it past her to do the same to Ser Orton Ambrose if he knew the truth of wicked deeds on her part."
Truth be told, the discovery of Maegell's subterfuge had required a strong degree of prompting from others.
"My brother and I share dark hair, and my niece and nephew resemble neither their lord father nor mother with their golden hair."
"I am no maester, and would want to consult tomes on lineages and heraldry before carry such an argument much further. Our lady mother had light hair, Seven rest her. I always fondly thought of it as her legacy." Everytime I saw our mother, was a bastard's by-blow staring back at me instead?
Roland's previously shaven head had begun to grow back, its near black colour verifying his words.
"Ser Normyn quitting his duel with my whole family's honour at stake was an outage. They would have had to carry me from the field and it was not my gauntlet that was thrown! But if he seeks to clear the path for his own inheritance by some scheme then he is a fool - few would have him now, for his defeat dishonours himself most of all. The Seven have certainly guided us on this matter, and only a fool shuns their judgement."
He shook his head, struggling to make it all add up.
"You sound exhausted, and while it is kind of you to inquire I should not weary you further by recounting my family's trials..."
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 8, 2019 16:03:23 GMT 1
He nods solemnly to Roland's tale - much was as the gossip and rumours had said. A sad state. And a dangerous one, with much uncertainty. No one would question Titus' lineage, the Ser Donnel and Rolandthe Giantslayer blood flowed strong in him but he did not share the eyes and hair of his fathers. Built like a Blackbriar but the flaxen hair and steely eyes of his Peake mother. Yet Lordships could be lost and wars could be started on basis.
And perhaps one was about to.
"We live in treacherous times, Roland. Be careful out there. You're a strong warrior and maybe next in line to your House. Many Lord and schemers would see you seated as means to an end. Or removed." The tournament had hardened him in these matters.
"Gods willing, I shall see you in Oldtown, friend. Or across the lists." He extend his hand, "Thanks for taking time for a cripple." A cynical smile.
/scene?
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Post by Roland Cordwayner on Mar 8, 2019 16:32:06 GMT 1
It seemed Highgarden had done much to disabuse the pair of many illusions. A cynic lay injured in this bed. Was it really only a few weeks past that Roland had jousted against a romantic young knight errant bearing this shade's likeness?
"Doubtless you are correct - I shall be vigilant for those that seek to fix strings to me or remove me from this tragic play."
Roland accepted the hand, surprised at how much strength remained in the man despite the damage done by the mob.
"I see only my future opposition here."
Roland departed, keen to take the measure of Garth and sending a maester to see to his exhausted friend.
[/scene]
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