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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 11, 2019 2:39:43 GMT 1
The Greystone Chapel was a small religious retreat within the confines of a bustling city. It had none of the majesty or history of the Starry Sept to add to its lustre, and numbered a single decrepit Septon and a handful of silent sisters among its paltry staff, but it made up for those lacks in privacy. It was maintained primarily by the tithes of a dozen wealthy merchants and the patronage of a handful of Houses that maintained nearby townhouses. House Daverhyl was among those Houses, though none of her Dornish uncles had every shown an inclination to visit the Chapel, having higher priorities than mere piety. She had prayed here often as a Handmaid to House Hightower, and the septon had greeted her warmly, despite her new wardship to House Blackbriar.
Her uncle, Lord Jon, had lent her a trio of men at arms for her pilgrimage, who stood watch on the Chapel entrance, and would not permit any unexpected surprises. She hoped.
Lynesse both feared and needed these moments of peace as she knelt upon the smooth stone floor, head bowed in solemnity. She had prayed to the Seven for guidance more and more these last twelve months, but found less and less reassurance in it. In these quiet moments she could acknowledge how fractured she felt herself, into seven broken parts.
Standing smoothly from her final prayer, she lit the last of the seven tapers and placed it beneath the last of the seven statues that encircled the lower dais of the Chapel. The Stranger was rarely prayed to, and on this day she had not found the words. Feelings she had in plenty. Sorrow, Despair, Rage, and perhaps a tiny sliver of Hope. She wondered if the gods could hear the feelings behind a prayer, or simply its words.
She hoped they did, and would hear the words she could not bring herself to say.
She heard footsteps echo in the anteroom of the chapel, and then abruptly stop, as a hushed conversation ensured. Hastily, she dabbed away the tears she permitted herself only grudgingly. She left the tapers burning on the lower dais and turned to meet the new arrival, here, she presumed, at her invitation.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 12, 2019 21:22:23 GMT 1
The three men that stood guard outside the chapel's inner sanctum bore The Charging Knight of House Blackbriar and were no strangers to Titus. He had left the service of his birth-house but was still on friendly terms with many of it's men. He greeted them and being expected, was let through.
The small chapel was silent, solemn and eery with nothing but the smattering of light summer rain outside disturbing the silence. Before joining her, Lynesse's cousin takes a few, small candle and left what seemed to be a gold dragon in the small, unmarked wooden box that stood for donation for the temple. Holding the candles, he joined her by the Stranger and smiled. Titus' cloak was damp from the weather and his hair crowned with ringlets of rain, lighting the candle he places it underneath He Who Greets Us Last and briefly warms his hand over the little flame.
"It is good to see you, cuz. How are you?" Lynesse and her brother, Kyle had come to Gyldenhaal nought but two moons before The Black Tourney and he had not seen them since departing to that cursed event. Now he had a new lord and a new home but for the short time they'd known each other, he had grown fond of his cousins - orphaned by tragedy and treachery.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 13, 2019 22:33:31 GMT 1
Titus seemed more battered and worn than when had wished him farewell and good luck for the ill-fated tourney at Highgarden, but she smiled to see him nonetheless. "I am glad you could come Titus, I worried that your new liege would have you run off your feet with chivalrous deeds in his service." She greets him with a peck on the cheek, though the Stranger loomed over them both.
She moves closer to him, placing her right hand on his forearm in a chaste gesture of sympathy, "I was so very sorry for your father, Donnel was a great knight, in character as well as ability. We ladies of Gyldenhaal held a vigil for him soon after your departure."
She gathered her thoughts, seeking to reply to his initial question without letting forth the torrent of melancholy that had gripped her moments ago. Such things would not do in the days ahead. "I... I am well enough, given how things stand in Mustard Hall. I fear that my Uncle Eustace means to seize control of my house, having locked Lord Karl in some cellar or tower room for his final days.I have had word that he he acts as a regent now, and will continue to do so after my grandfather's passing. I do not believe my grandfather would ever put Kyle back into the clutches of that man, so I can only presume that Eustace has forged this authority, and hidden my grandfather away for his final days."
She steps away from the Stranger, back into the centre of the lower dais. The statue of the Father is the largest and most central. The most revered and oft the most prayed to, especially by high lords, who saw more of him in themselves than they had any right to. "I came to Oldtown in part to see if I could raise my brother's case with the Hightowers, who after all, his liege and kin. Alas, there seems to be no-one to talk to as yet, or perhaps too many willing to listen, but no firm hand yet to push the issue.
"
"I worry that things will only grow more chaotic in the months ahead. Half the Reach seems already at each others throats. By the time Eustace informs the realm of my grandfather's passing, it may be too late to act against him.
I have petitioned the gods, but they seem to have decided to withhold any revelation from me."
She has moved away from Titus now, to the first taper she had lit in her prayer, the Warrior. The flame was burning, hungrily.
"I know little of the affairs of power, Titus. Of lords, and knights, and such. But you are a man I trust, for you have always upheld the chivalry your father embodied. What should I do?"
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 14, 2019 0:06:28 GMT 1
He remains standing beneath the cloaked visage of The Stranger as his cousin reveals why she had called for him. He knew that Eustace, her uncle was a shrewd and ruthless man that things had grown so bad he had not expected. The Vulture of Mustard Hall seemed hell bent to prove all ill that folk said of the Dornish true. He listens to her plead for help before slowly joining her under the aspect of The Warrior. What did he know of the affairs of power? Of political manoeuvring and schemes? He considers his words as he lights a second candle.
"The Hightowers are still recovering from the murder of Lord Jon. Poisoned at Highgarden his grand-son now sits as Lord, but the boy is but five and the question of his Regency is still in the air. While a united House Hightower might very well have proven ready to hear your plight and brought justice, they might prove too divided to act before it is too late. The Gods..." he looks upwards the carved stone faces looking down on them. "...seem to fall silent when we need them the most. Perhaps that is how they test us?" He places a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Speak plain, cuz. Do you believe your uncle had anything to do your parents death?" If so, it was a serious accusation. No man is so accursed as the kinslayer.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 14, 2019 7:12:52 GMT 1
Lynesse felt a pang of frustration in the moment. Not at Titus, but at the vexing incommunicability of simple truths demonstrated by a host of tiny factors. She leaves the Warrior holding his longsword pointed downard, and moves around the edges of the dais, passing her hand over the feet of the tall statues as she circles the room back toward Titus..
"Eustace all but admitted it to my face, the blackguard, though I doubt he had any direct hand in the deed himself. He and my father were always at odds, and seldom showed restraint where one another were concerned. Eustace was attending my grandfather when the news broke. " In truth the man was often one step ahead. Seeing the world as a cyvasse board, and the people in it as little more than pieces to slide about with his manicured nails.
"The timing was damning as well. His younger brother, my uncle Sandor, returned from years abroad in Dorne the very next day. My grandfather said it must be an intervention of the gods to send him home when we needed him most. I think the the coincidence more malevolent. The deed itself was done with bows of war, not hunting or sport, and at least a score of combatants. It was certainly no mere brigands as Sandor insisted when appointed Master of Arms. The man knows more of war than I, but even I can see his explanation did not fit." She ticks these notions off on long and elegant fingers as she reasons through them. A series of circumstances that painted a picture of sorts, but not clear enough to her liking.
She sighs, placing both hands, palm-down on the stone ledge below the statue of the Maid."But do I have proof? If witnesses survived, they are those who did the deed, and unlikely to make themselves known to me. I feel certain of the truths I know, but unsure if I can prove his guilt."
"If Hightower's resolve is soft, could we find some way to harden it? If they are divided, could they not be united? My brother will, godswiilling, be among their Bannermen in the years to come. I do not know who we might call on in Oldtown, with clout in such matters and decisions. I made some acquaintances in court, but..." she trails off, uncertain at how she might leverage friendships between handmaids and daughters of noble houses into some meaningful aid for her brother or House Hightower itself. Still, the though grips her. There are challenges and obstacles, but such things were perhaps not impenetrable or insurmountable. Not with the right allies.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 14, 2019 11:11:07 GMT 1
He crosses his arm. "So no proof other than certainty." This was a delicate matter. Not one for a blunt blade. Accusations of kinslaying where serious and could cause more harm to his cousins than good if thrown around carefree. "When your grandfather passes, that seat belongs to Kyle. By laws of gods and men. The only way Eustace can claim it is through breaking the King's Peace. And the God's. And The Hightower's." As long as the boy is alive that is, but Titus did not feel the need to say it. It hung over them like a justicar's axe. "Where is Kyle now? Does he remain at Gyldenhaal?"
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 14, 2019 22:44:56 GMT 1
"I fear the peace may be broken so many times in the coming months that many will not care if Eustace does the same, only if he can put swords in their host, and gold in their warchest." Lynesse replied grimly, before softening.
"But you are right to counsel caution, cuz. Kyle is at Glydenhaal now. My Grandfather's letter to Lord Jon made clear the existence of a threat to Kyle's life, so he has his own guard. The letter also requested that in time, Kyle might squire for Ser Donnel, as he was known in Mustard Hall to be Lord Blackbriar's most stalwart blade and counsel. But..." she trails off.
She stood directly in front of Titus now, meeting his eyes with her own, though he stood far taller than she. "In truth I would see my brother squired to one of Donnel's sons. Despite my experiences at Mustard Hall, I trust family more than sworn swords, and if he is to survive the likes of Eustace, Kyle needs to grow into the man he is meant to be, and soon. But you and Balon are gone from Gyldenhaal now, so I thought if I were to ask Lord Jon and Lady Erena to allow it, I should know how such a request of one of those sons might be received." She left unsaid the rumours of a growing rift within the family. One which, politics aside, she did not wish to see fester or worsen.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 14, 2019 23:07:00 GMT 1
"Ofcourse! I'd be honoured, Lynesse." His response is swift, far too swift to have considered the consequences and potential threats of it. But it was the right thing to do.
"If Lord Jon allows it." The rift was growing and in truth Titus did not know what Lord Jon thought of him any more... or what he'd ever thought of him... or anything for that matter. And would it even be Lord Jon's decision, or would Lady Erena see to the matter? But out of Donnel's two sons (yet a squire, Wart did not count) he was he one they where more likely to concede to.
"Of the Hightowers..." he returns "it is foolish not to act at all, or officially involve another house." Titus had though of bringing the matter before Lord Gormon. Whilst seeking his advice could prove fruitful it would be unwise to ask him to act. "Daverhyl are sworn to The Hightower and it could be seen as a slight to bring the matter of justice amongst their bannermen to an outside force. I have heard rumours that Lady Melera, young Lord Brynden's grandmother and the late Lord Jon's wife, is amongst those favoured to lead during the regency. We could bring the matter before her. As a wife, a mother, a widow and an Andal she might hear your plight." Lady Melera was born of House Costayne, who supported Blackfyre - there could be a commonness found.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 15, 2019 11:00:01 GMT 1
"You are wise to say we should not involve other houses. I would have thought to lobby like minded lords, but it would weaken my brother's case as a loyal bannerman if they were Hightower's peers or rivals." So many possible missteps, Lynesse wondered to herself. How to even begin to navigate such a maze, where a boon might become a poisoned chalice at a moment's notice?
"I will speak to Lady Erena about Kyle's squiring. She knows Lord Jon's mind far better than I, and in truth I feel it easier to bring such matters before a Lady closer to me in age, than the lord of a noble house."
"But enough of my dark fears, cuz. I have heard tell of daring exploits on your part at the tourney. Such daring deeds breed interest you know, Has some lady caught your eye as yet? Have several? Would I know them?" In the blink of an eye she transforms from overwhelmed lady to gossiping handmaid. It was a role familiar to her, during her two years as a handmaid to the Hightowers.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 17, 2019 15:58:42 GMT 1
"If you are to seek out Lady Melera or any of her kin, just say the word and I will accompany you if you so wish." Titus did carry some goodwill from House Hightower, something that hopefully could aid Lynesse in her cause.
When the subject changes to that of ladies and courtship he gets visibly uncomfortable and shifts his weight awkwardly. Unsure what to do with his hands he folds them across his chest - a poor attempt to appear confident. Aimlessly he wanders around the small chapel, speaking to the statues as much as Lynesse.
"There... might have been one or two, I carried Lord Durwell's sister, Lady Daena's favour in the lists and we... talked and danced on a few occasion." Titus had a habit of leaving out the Flower part of Daena's name. It did not do her justice. "But she is of King's Blood and the sister of one of the most powerful... and I am coming to understand, most cunning Lords of the Reach. I doubt a Second Son of a Second Son, no matter how many laurels he wins in the lists, can hope for such a match." It was not necessarily that Titus did dream of such a match - in truth he did not know what he wanted.
"I crowned Lady Janna Queen of Love and Beauty in The Uplands, a smaller tournament where I unhorsed Ser Dennis Hightower!" Excited at the still fresh memory, it's clear he is much more confident talking about swords and lances than women. "Mother might have me peruse an allience there, but she also wishes me to seek out Ladys Lysette Starling and Deana Roxton, both of whom would make the husband's Lord Protectors of their holding." He sighs, having stopped underneath The Mother, seemingly looming above him, the tall knight seems very small for moment.
"To be honest, cuz, part of me still dreams of wearing a White Cloak... that dream seems to be drifting further and further away though. But part of me still clings to it."
He clears his throat, dismissing whatever thoughts occupied him. "Will you attend the tribunal?"
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 18, 2019 6:51:59 GMT 1
"Only fools would discount you on account of being a second son of a second son. You a cousin to the lord of Starpike, and now his sworn sword. Lord’s low and high will seek to bind themselves to him through you. But you are also more than Gormon’s nephew, or Donnel’s son. You are your own man, and men of honour are worth more than their weight in gold, or some lofty title. I do not know Lady Janna well, but the Hightower women have always struck me as more grounded than one might expect of the greater houses. The others I know less well, though Deana Roxton’s father strikes me as a dependable and valorous sort.
"
She smiles wistfully at his comment about the white cloak. His colouring would suit it well, she can tell, though many a young lady in the reach would be heartbroken to see him don it. "I think I dream of a Septa’s robes the way you might of a white cloak. It would be a simpler thing, to don such colours and see a clear unbending road before me, knowing the righteousness of my place in the word. She shrugs. But the clear unbending road is a narrow one, and unsuited to those who are not called to it.
"
Her opinion on the trial are mixed, and she is conscious that a great many important folk have a grave personal interest in its outcome. "I will attend this tribunal. I saw little of Abelar before the Black tourney, but know him better by reputation. My mother often read to me from his histories of the faith. I can see how such a man grew so wroth with the realm, though the outcome saddens my heart.
"
"You know the man so much better than I, and have lost so much more because of him. How do you hope this will end?
"
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 19, 2019 14:42:20 GMT 1
That was what he dreamed of. A simple, unbending path. Narrow it might be but clear. Oaths were supposed to make things easier but it seemed, with time they only proved the opposite.
"Abelar is... or was a good man. Stern, hard and absolutely unrelenting, yes. But to me he always proved just and wise. Yes. above all, wise. When I was to be knighted, after my victory in the Squire's Joust at Horn Hill I was... I was so frightened. I wasn't ready. I spent so many years as my father's squire and make no mistake about Ser Donnel Blackbriar, in matters martial he was an impossible man to please." He smiles at the memory. "He told me on the road home. That he was proud of me and that I was to stand vigil in the Sept at Gyldenhaal when we returned. That I was to be annointed with the Seven Oils and take the Oath. That I was to become a knight.
I didn't know what to say so I just nodded... but inside I wanted to scream, turn my horse around and gallop through the Marshes, over the Red Mountains and into the Deserts of Dorne I was so scared. I wasn't ready. What is winning a few squire's jousts to becoming a knight? Now... when he's gone, I think I was afraid of the change. I wasn't to be his squire any more, but a fellow knight. Be an equal to him? I could never be as him. I was his child and I wanted to stay as such. Balon was always different. He couldn't wait to become his own man but it frightened me.
But the way father looked at me, of course I couldn't run away. So I just nodded and we barely spoke for the rest of the journey.
Mother thought it could not have come sooner, Balon congratulated me and Wart was so jealous. But mere hours before my vigil would start I was in the sept, by myself... and I wept. I prayed for guidance, I prayed for courage, strength, I prayed for death!" He chuckles at the absurdity of it. "I prayed that the Gods would strike me down with a bolt of thunder, anything!
And then... I wasn't alone. Abelar was there. A soft, yet firm hand on my shoulder he sat down next to me. Didn't say anything for the longest time. He just sat there and let me weep. Then when there was nothing left he said "Fear, Titus. Fear is the greatest gift the Gods can bestow upon us. It's only in Fear that Courage can be tempered." then he rose, squeezed my shoulder and said he'll see me shortly. The next morning he anointed me with Seven Oils as my father charged me with the duties of knighthood.
That man. The man in that Sept, was a good man. And will never cease to be a Septon. But how he became the man standing trial... I don't know. But I need to see it through. I need to see him."
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 22, 2019 7:46:15 GMT 1
"He is a man who seems to have the courage of his convictions, to spit fire at great lords for the transgressions of which he considers them guilty. It seems strange to me that one man could be held responsible for the actions of a rioting crowd. He is not a lord to command them, nor are they hired help, paid with his coin. Were his actions so different from a man raising the hue and cry when a crime is committed? Is such a man responsible for the actions of every man that hears him?"
Lynesse cuts herself short. She is deeply curious of this man Abelar, and the righteous fire that seems to burn within him, but she must not forget the very human losses that should not be overshadowed by her idle fancy.
"I would hear the man speak, I think, to better understand him. I am glad that I am not among his judges, for I think it would be hard to find an outcome that does not threaten either the security of the realm, or the sanctity of the faith. To strip him of his rank seems a folly though, for surely he has not preached against his faith, but perhaps that is the outcome seen as somehow safer, for privileged few who are to make it, at least. Often a man who asks hard questions is seen as a danger or weakness among men who dare not do so."
"Thank you for your many offers of support Titus, with the Hightowers, with Kyle, and for my own sake. I fear that the tumult in the realm will only sow further discord in my own tale, and am gladdened to know that I can rely on such a stalwart knight as you. That you doubt, and worry shows you to be a man of conscience, and to lose that would diminish you."
Lynesse's words have an eerie quality to them, due in part to the acoustics of the chamber, and in part to the sense of impending doom she can feel swelling around her, a flowing tide that cannot be stopped but could perhaps, with great fortune and divine will, be endured.
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Post by Titus Blackbriar on Mar 22, 2019 13:05:05 GMT 1
"Do not worry, cuz. We'll see it through. And my offer stands, the men outside are fine soldiers but should you require my escort or protection while here in Oldtown, just say the word."
He buts a comforting hand on her shoulder. They were kin and kin stands together.
/scene unless you have more you'd like to broach?
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Mar 22, 2019 13:39:10 GMT 1
“I would be glad for it,” she replies honestly, and with genuine warmth.
/scene
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