Gwen smiled at the welcome they received and nodded at the offer. "Thank you for your hospitality. We are hungry as you surmised, and would enjoy both mutton and ale." Gwen had her own mixed feelings about strong drink, given her father's difficulty with it, but generally managed to enjoy without overindulging.

The Blackfin heiress meticulously loosened the fingers on her left riding glove before pulling it off, then repeated the movement on the right side. She deliberately moved toward one of the recently cleared tables, but gave others the opportunity to take action in advance of her sitting.

As the party entered the inn, Gerhart held position for a moment, surveying the room to see if anyone looked suspicious. He sipped gently as his watered juice, then quietly nodded at Thoren to indicate that he had spied no obvious threat.

As the tables were forcibly vacated to make way for the nobles, he rose and allowed his table to be free to accommodate those displaced. He then waited for the nobles to sit before joining them at the table.

Berion's expression was decidedly neutral as Valen hurried over and began almost tripping over himself in an attempt to forestall the punishment that both the squires knew was bound to be coming. Giving the boy a curt nod, the knight quickly dismounted and handed the reins off to Valen before adding "While you two are at it, see to the men's mounts as well."

Extra work for the squires meant that they likely wouldn't be able to join the others inside, but given the boy's recent display, that was likely the point.

Spinning on his heels, Berion turned and followed the other members of the traveling party inside, giving Thoren's squire Meryn an appreciative nod as he did.

Only when they were well inside and out of earshot did his stern mien crack, a hint of a smile playing around the edges of his mouth.  He wasn't mad at the boys, not truly at any rate.  But both of them needed to learn some self-control, especially around women.

Valen took the reins of both Ser Thoren's and Ser Berion's mounts. While doing so, he remained bowed as his knight and liege's words spilled over him. Mother's Mercy! All the men's horses as well? That was six more mounts! Yet, Valen fought to maintain a neutral expression. He knew the knight would be hard on Jerom and him, but this was even worse than expected.

"Aye Ser! It shall be done." he said without emotion.

Valen remained so bowed until the party was out of earshot, then rose. He gathered the men of Knollwood's mounts and left those of Blackfin to Jerom. As he did so, he shot Jerom a sour look but said nothing as he led eight horses to the stables. Once inside, knowing the dirty business that lied ahead, eased out of the Knollwood livery, not wanting to soil it.

Seeing the sleeping lad no older than himself, he shouted! "You! Stableboy! Up for there is work to be done. The Mother's mercy has shone on you this day! We will see to the brushing, remove saddles and whatnot, and see all the horses watered. All you need to do is make the stables ready, fetch the water for us, and see the all the horses have good hay and oats to eat thereafter. If you do so, Lady Gwendolyn has bid us reward you."

Though the squires would do most manual labor, the lad still had his work cut out for him. The sudden arrival of these many steeds would take many, many hours of work; the lad maybe even late for supper.

Valen dug in his own pouch and produced a silver Stag. He flipped it to the lad. "That is from me and Jerom here. To show you the Father will judge us and our words true. You shall have Lady Gwendolyn's coin once we judge you worthy."

Not waiting for the lad to rising and aid them, Valen began to take both the knight's mounts' saddles. The boy may be late for supper, yet he and Jerom would most like have none at all.

Without
The stableboy opened his mouth as Valen began to speak, but closed it at the first glimpse of silver. He nodded an, "Aye sir," and set to work eagerly, having pocketed the coin.

The steeds proved less biddable. though some were used to Valen's hand, the guards' horses were a surly lot and would need a firm hand.
[OOC- Animal Handling check required here from Valen]

Within
In short order the hearth was tended and food and drink prepared. The barmaid introduced herself as Dori and waited on Lady Gwen personally.
[I'll take a knowledge: streetwise check from anyone looking to gather local news]

After a few moments, when the inn had settled, one of the knights toward the back of the Inn made his way forward. He was a hulking specimen, with a trio of black dogs adorning his tunic. Behind him, the other two knights remained in seats, drinking and mocking their squires. he did not seem to notice Gerhart, or that he had preceded the main group

"Lady Gwendolyn," the specimen drawled, bowing in a courteous, if somewhat graceless greeting, "We did not expect to meet you on the road, but only at Lychester castle. Though this one," he began to chuckle, as he glanced toward Ser Berion, always did complain of a sore arse after the first mile marker."

Giving a slight chuff of amusement, a smile flitted about the edge of Berion's mouth as he replied.  "If I did, and I'm not saying that I did, then it was only because I had to put up with you being such a pain Naton."

The fact that Berion hadn't used Ser Naton's proper title wasn't surprising, as the two had a relationship not too dissimilar to that of Valen and Jerom.  That was to say a friendly enough rivalry.  To make matters worse, they had both been knighted at the same time for their valor on the field of battle, which only further contributed to things.

Falling silent to allow Lady Gwendolyn a chance to speak, his gaze shifted to the two knights at the man's side as he began silently sizing up the pair.  After all, they were potential competition.

In reply to The Many Faced God (msg # 23):


Valen said a quick prayer to the Mother for mercy and the Crone for wisdom as he began the task at hand. Some of the horses appeared to be far less cooperative than others. Yet, this did not stop the young squire from doing his best. Using a firm hand and a serious demeanor, Valen tried his best to take control.

After taking off the saddles and storing them nearby, he brushed down each horse once stabled. As they cooled down from their long march, the squire gave them water. As the stable boy brought forth both hay and oats, he watched that each horse was fed properly but not overmuch.

---

07:53, Today: Valen Vance rolled 12 using 3d6.  Animal Handling Check.

Gwen had been in a few places similar to this one and planned to work the room a bit this evening. Perhaps she would discover a few interesting bits of information.

OOC: 22 Knowledge (Streetwise). She can hardly do better...

15:39, Today: Gwendolyn Blackfin rolled 22 using 5d6, dropping the lowest dice only ((3,6,4,6,6)).

For the time being, she turned her attention to the interaction between Ser Naton and Ser Berion. Her face didn't betray any emotions, as per usual for her. She did recall what her father had said about Ser Naton, and was not particularly surprised by his physique given that conversation. The Blackfin heiress tipped her head forward in response to the courteous bow. "Meetings on the road are often by chance, Ser Naton, though in this case it can provide an opportunity to make acquaintances without so many eyes and ears about. How have your travels been thus far?" She did offer a soft smile at the conclusion of her question and her gaze was fixed on the knight who had made his way to her table.

Thoren remained by his niece, ever a stalwart companion, though his eyes were more for the rest of the tavern than they were for the immediate conversation with Ser Naton. He looked particularly for any that appeared like to make trouble, or for the presence of any other house than Serbera.

If satisfied that nothing was particularly amiss, he'd return his attention to the Serbera heir.

OOC: Awareness (Notice) 14

Just taking a look around the place...

12:07, Today: Thoren Blackfin rolled 14 using 5d6, keeping the 4 highest rolls.  Awareness (Notice).

Naton chuckled as Berion returned the barb in kind. He seemed in a good mood and elaborated magnanimously "rest easy then, Ser Knollwood, for we can test our skills on the tourney field, and shed blood together on the battlefield without passing every idle moment together, and be none the poorer for it."

To Gwendolyn, he replied in a deep gravelly rumble, "Aye, fortune plays its own part, and destiny as well. Perhaps the gods have brought us together lady, before you and your men find yourself knee deep in Mistwoods and Wyldes at the Lychester boy's wedding."

"As for my own travels, well..." He paused for a moment, waylaying the Innkeeper's daughter for a mug of ale, and took a hearty swig for his trouble, planting a playful slap on the girl's rear as she extricated herself. "Some fool robber knight had set himself up on a bridge near Sallydance, charging a toll for travelers, and even farmers looking to mill their spare seed-grain. He knew enough of mounted combat to survive the first pass with the lance, but three clashes of my sword and his had the man reeling and blubbering like a child. Naturally I ended him rightly," Naton clarified. "The farmers were well-pleased, and the miller too, but none so pleased as the miller's daughter," he chuckled, 'or perhaps she was just more prone to demonstrate her gratitude," he glanced past Gwen to her handmaid Myranda and offered her a wink, before adding, "for she was surely prone when she demonstrated it."

Without waiting for a response, he laughed to himself and took another long draught of what was clearly not his first ale of the day.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:22, Thu 11 Feb 2021.

Within

Thoren readily observes that although a few patrons wear daggers at their hips, the only plausible combatants in the inn for House Blackfin's knights and men-at-arms are likely the small group of knights and squires from which Ser Naton had emerged.  He notes at least one of the squires sporting Naton's colours, but the rest bear mixed heraldry of pots or winged beasts. He sees two younger members of the group leave by way of a rear entrance, one of them clutching at his face where he had been struck by a thrown mug. The smallfolk seemed to shy away from the Blackfins, judging the risk of noble ire greater than the chance of of patronage.

Without
The boys soon begin the work of seeing to mounts, and Valen demonstrates a competent hand. However, one of the already-stabled mounts, no doubt belonging to another patron of the Inn begins to snort and whinny, its nostrils and eyes flaring wide as though perturbed by the Blackfin mounts or squires.

Rumours
This message was last edited by the GM at 10:52, Tue 16 Feb 2021.

Gwen listened attentively to the story from Ser Naton, and nodded at the important bits throughout. Her gaze went briefly to Myranda when her handmaid received attention and a wink from the Serbera heir. When she looked back at the knight, Gwen responded. "Your travels have been much more eventful than ours, ser. Unless our outriders kept all the fun to themselves. Good that you cleaned up that bridge, though the man was indeed a fool for not turning tail at your approach."

She tipped her head slightly to the side. "Are you planning to stay the night here before finishing the ride on the morrow?"

"'tis why I travel lightly Lady Gwendolyn.” Naton boasted.  “A small company invites greater trouble. A great flocking entourage of ladies and outriders scares off the small game, and the great adventure."

"I'd planned to travel this morning with my brother Timos but the Kettleblacks and Heddles make for better drinking companions than Old Lychester," Naton snorted, though Lord Lychester was little over forty. “Add a few Blackfins to the mix and Lychester Castle seems like a graveyard by comparison. The boy and I can rise before the dawn and ride off the ale, with plenty of time to greet the Lychesters and hunt some food for their welcoming feast in the evening. Gods but that Lyman is a stinge, ” he chuckled, before trailing nodding to Berion, “Not like Riverrun after the Tumblestone, eh Knollwood? Never an empty mug or bowl, and by gods the girls. Why I’ve never…” he glanced back at Gwen and her ladies, somehow managing to catch himself despite his alcohol-induced haze “well, enough to say that I don’t expect Lyman Lychester to arrange such a party as Edmun Tully.” He scratched his chin in thought, at the prospect of matching the victory celebrations at Riverrun “I don’t even know if he could find a set of Dornish twins this side of the Red Mountains.”

A little unsteadily, Naton dragged himself to his feet, making ready to leave the Blackfins to their privacy “You’re welcome to stay the evening as well. There’s fair room for all hands. If you’d like, I’m sure Ser Desmond and the Kettleblacks would fall over their damned feet for an introduction,” he shrugged, pointing over his shoulder to the knights and squires across the room “but they’re knights of the hedge, so they’ll take not offence at being given short shrift.”
This message was last edited by the GM at 04:20, Wed 17 Feb 2021.

Eventually, Gerhart took his place at the table. When the opportunity arose, he spoke quietly to the nobles. “I hear that House Lychester has a hunt organised, down near the Lorrentine Hills. That area is rich is game, especially boar and deer, and not a few wolves too.” He didn’t venture an opinion as to whether or not they should try for an invitation to join the hint, it was not his place to make such a suggestion, but it was clear from his tone and face that he would be keen to join in the hunt, should the opportunity arise.

The Blackfin cousin considered  Gerhart’s news before responding. “Joining in the hunt would give us a chance to mingle with some of the other wedding guests that arrive early, Darvil suggested, and if what Ser Naton says is true, bringing down a trophy such as a boar or stag would win us Lord Lychester’s thanks.

He shook his head ruefully, “though I am not sure how much use I will be in the task. I am better suited to the deck of a ship than the back of a horse, and more comfortable in the middle of a roaring torrent than within the forests or fields of the Lorrentine ranges.


He shrugged and looked to Gerhart and the nobles for their thoughts on the Gerhart's news.

Giving Gerhart a tip of the hand in acknowledgment of the man's news, Berion smiled at Darvil as he spoke.  "I'm sure we could manage an invitation if we so desired.  And I do think it is something we would want to consider.  After all a hunt is always an excellent opportunity to spend time with the peerage in a relatively private setting.  And while I can't pretend to be anything but passable at it, it is certainly an enjoyable way to spend an afternoon."
This message was last edited by the player at 12:56, Tue 23 Feb 2021.

Gwen smirked at Ser Naton's response. "Yes, I have often heard that any group containing ladies has a difficult time finding adventure of any sort. A shame that I will never be able to enjoy such." She nodded at Ser Naton's parting words and watched him retreat.

Her attention switched to the discussion of the hunt. "Joining the hunt seems a good way to make connections and enjoy the beginning of the festivities. I think it would be best if several of you joined. Even those without hunting skills can provide good conversation and an extra pair of eyes for those who do."

She looked around for other opinions as they waited for both food and squires to find their table.

Valen was both hot, muggy, and tired. The riding leathers, though normally comfortable, were not the ideal clothes to muck stables and care for mounts. By The Crone herself, Ser Berion was a wise man indeed. So much so that Valen would think twice before allowing himself such an outburst. Or at least the squire thought, though deep down, he knew Lady Gwendolyn would be hard to resist.

Upon hearing the horse's distress, Valen stopped what he was doing and sought out the stable boy. Nodding to Jerom as he did so. "You! We have done the better part of your work this day and rewarded you for it. Here! Let all know that Lady Gwendolyn is... well, is kind and just. She treats all with an even hand. These coins plus the one I gave you is a reward. See that horse receives the same as the Blackfin mounts! Fetch it some oats and an apple as well. Tis your stable, but if I were you, I would remove it from its stall and see some distances from our mounts. Mayhaps that and a treat will calm the horse."

Valen dusted off his hands. "Do you need help doing so? I could lend a hand if you wish. Who's mount is that leastways?"
This message was last edited by the player at 06:51, Wed 24 Feb 2021.

Thoren remained largely silent during the encounter, dismissing Ser Naton as something of a swine, though potentially a useful one in the future. His boorish antics were nothing that surprised him.

"Yes, I am sure that 'old' Lychester," he said dryly, as the man was only a couple of years Thoren's senior, "will appreciate our efforts in the hunt." He smiled wryly at Darvil's comment; clearly the boy had taken after his own preferences and inclinations. "I've never been much for it either, though Gerhart here will see that we make a good showing of things, surely. Many only go on these hunts primarily for the opportunity to see and be seen. We need not actually do a great deal. If the others find one, we can help to stick the pig."

Without
The stableboy nodded, his eyes growing round at the sight of good coin. Nodding agreeably he muttered that he could handle the other horse easily enough, that it belonged to one of the knights inside, and went to fetch some oats.

Jerom gave Valen a knowing smirk, "If you're shedding coin to have Lady Blackfin notice you, it'd be better spent on a minstrel than some fool peasant boy. Come on, it's cold and the hearth is more inviting than the smell of horse shit and hay." And with that, Valen's fellow squire moved toward the main doors of the stable, considering the bulk of their work now done.

Behind Valen, toward the far side of the stable, a the creaking sound of another door being opened could be heard. There was the sound of a few quick footsteps on the stable's earthen floor, and an accusatory, "Stranger's arse, get away from that horse, you peasant shit," followed by the sound of a meaty blow and the stableboy's pained cry. Turning back, Valen could see the stableboy lying prone on the earthen floor.

Two squires had entered the stable from a second, smaller door on the far side from where Ser Berion's squires had entered. One was short, clad in brown and green and wore the sigil of a winged beast on his jerkin, and hung back a step or two from the confrontation. The second was taller, and had a harsh looking bruise obscuring the side of his face. He wore cheaper traveller's garb of brown and grey, but had the sigil of a black pot woven into his jerkin. He rubbed the knuckles of his right fist, as he loomed menacingly over the stableboy he had just felled to the ground.

Distracted by the whinnying of horses and their confrontation, the two new arrivals had not yet noticed Valen or Jerom, who stood near the main entrance of the stable.

Within
The inn grew only warmer and more welcoming as minutes passed, with its proprietor eager to offer every comfort to House Blackfin and its vassal knights.

Myranda Cooper nodded at her the words of her Lady and Ser Thoren. "Perhaps lord Lychester intends to offer his guests the chance to hunt with birds as well. It might better suit those of us less inclined to such," she blushed, as her eyes strayed towards the corner of the room where Ser Naton and the other knights enjoyed another round of drinks, before flicking back to her her Lady and glancing down in embarrassment, "manly pursuits."

Gwen smirked at Myranda's statement. "You are likely right, Myranda. And you are welcome to join as well."

She looked toward the door, then back to those at the table. "I was hoping the squires would join us before too long, but as this is our last rest before the wedding pulls us all in varying directions - I'd enjoy hearing a story from each of you. Perhaps of a time you were away from home and found or did something interesting."

Gwen took a long pull from the drink that had been set before her, and changed the direction in which her legs were crossed before settling back into her seat with a questioning smile for her companions.

He smiled wryly at Myranda's comment, but took a pull of his ale to mask any amusement that might be outwardly apparent. Fortunately, Gwen's follow up preempted a long silence that might have speculated any dwelling on which manly pursuits were most on her mind.

"Once when I was in the surrounding environs of Seagard, exploring just a bit, we ran across a ship. Not uncommon in Seagard, you might say, and you'd be right. But the ship was in the forest. She wasn't seaworthy by any stretch - some hundreds of years old. We scoured its ancient hull, boys thinking of treasure, but didn't come across much but a clutch of copper coins," he said, fishing something out of his belt pouch and presenting it at the table, passing it first to Gwen. The old copper coin had an indecipherable script on it, and a face the finer details of which had been lost to time.

"The Maester said this coin was from the Golden Empire of Yi Ti, and that the vessel as we described it for him was vaguely Qartheen in make, though could tell us little more with any certainty."

Following Thoren's lead, Berion hid his face in his mug, taking a deep pull of the stuff as he listened the older man spin a tale about shipwrecked treasure.  Quirking an eyebrow towards the coin, obviously intrigued, he chuckled softly before speaking. "Well now I'm not certain that I have anything nearly as interesting, but if the good lady insists, I shall endeavor to do my best.  Most of my stories aren't fit for polite company, because as Thoren here can attest, soldiers are a crude, rather crass lot I'm afraid, and most of my travels have been in that capacity.  That said, I once met a traveler who claimed to have survived the Doom.

He said that on the day of the Doom, every hill for five hundred miles exploded, filling the air with ash and smoke and fire, which killed even dragons. Earthquakes destroyed palaces, temples, and towns, while lakes boiled or turned to acid. The Fourteen Flames, the fiery mountains of Valyria, sent molten rock a thousand feet into the air, and red clouds rained down dragonglass. Valyria was rent assunder with only the Smoking Sea an some small scattered islands being the only remnants of that once proud land and its people.

Now I'm not sure if I believe a word of it, for obvious reasons, but it was still an interesting story." Berion finished, giving a slight shrug of his shoulders as he took another sip from his mug.

As the Blackfins swapped stories the hour gradually grew later. In time the hedge knights gradually drunk themselves into a stupor, but it seemed as though a hard edge in the atmosphere of the room that had preceded the Blackfin arrival seemed to gradually recede into a comfortable hospitality, as if the regulars were reassured by the presence of a second armed group.

Indeed, many of the locals hovered nearby the Blackfins, interested in tales of far off lands  they themselves might never visit; for many of them even the towns of Saltpans or Stoney Sept might as well be the moon for all the chance they would have to see it in their lifetimes.

Gradually the wicks grew low and men stumbled off to their nearby homes or rented rooms, with a few muttered predictions and promises for the morrow. The knights of pot and winged-beast took their rest on the tavern floor, loud snores giving away their position even in the dark.