The 'Guest' Chambers of Meraxes Frey

[Ollie]

A small, windowless room, but well furnished for all its faults. Several lanterns hang from the wall to provide adequate light, and a small candle sits on a writing desk equipped with pen and ink. A large closet in the corner is filled with various styles and sizes of clothing, though none are quite so sewn to fit a man of Meraxes Frey's shape.

[Ollie]

A ruddy looking crannogman with crooked, yellow teeth stands attention at the room, and cocks his head quizzically as he is given the letter.

"... 'Ey, wos this then?" he asks through the wide, rectangular peephole, leaning on his spear in the hallway.

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

"A letter for my host." Meraxes wondered what the chances were of the letter being read and how much would be comprehended.

[Ollie]

"Oh... oh,"The guard instantly held the letter at arms length, as if they very words it contained would give him the bloody flux. "I'll sees it to 'im, Gerard, watch milords guest will ya?"

With that, the yellow-toothed guard scampers down the hall, and is replaced by a no-toothed man with crow's feet framing his flint-hard eyes. The new guard says nothing, but simply stares forward at the door, unmoving. He stays this way for a time, a long time. Finally the sounds of footsteps are heard, and Olander arrives with Yellow-Teeth in tow.

"Master Meraxes," he murmurs, with a short incline of his head. "I trust your apartments are well enough?"

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

"Well-enough..."He slowly attempted to stand up again, but eventually decided to remain sitting on the bed. "I was pleased to see your consideration of putting me into a cell without bars. It is very hard to sleep with all that gawking from passersby." He placed his large hands on his knees as he spoke. "Has my Lord Tully arrived yet? Sadly I did not come solely to irritate your soldiers."

[Ollie]

"You were given quarters as befit your station. I was unconcerned with sparing you the stares," Olander said, opening the heavy wooden door and standing in its frame. Yellow-Teeth and Crow's Feet stood off to the side oblivious to the conversation, intently studying the brickwork of the walls before them.

"What I am concerned with, however, are the comments you made beneath my gates. Why is it that you have such intimate ideas on an attack of the North?" he asked on, ignoring the question of Tully.

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

Meraxes resisted the urge to laugh. The Freys had ruled their end of the Neck nearly as long as the Reeds and taking Moat Cailin was not a matter of idle discussion in the Crossing. Still he had asked the question... "The Riverlands have not been a safe place in many years, Lord Reed. Many houses still desire the Blackwoods back in power and others desire vengeance for having past exploits turn to ash. The Freys are neither, but I have kinsmen who believe a single Tully is an ill choice when their family has controled so much for so long." He shrugged a shoulder. "I personally have no interest in politics since no man would ever follow me. However, though my head may not be handsome or soft-spoken, I would still like to keep it attached to what passes for my neck. That is is why I am here in Moat Cailin, where my Lord and I may speak away from treacherous eyes."

[Ollie]

Had Meraxes Frey spoken aloud his thoughts, there would not have been an eye dry of laughter between the three crannogmen. House Frey was relatively new, not only compared to the Northern houses, such as the Reeds, who had existed for dozens of centuries, but rather compared to even their own countrymen, who saw the Freys as an up-jumped house, grown powerful only by the taxes the bridge between their castle had gathered. And while some Freys might have dreamed of taking the Neck, they had always failed.

But of course, they had just been thoughts, and the crannogmen remained stoic.

"It speaks poor of you and your cause when you attempt to coerce your way into my home with empty threats and unwarranted boldness," the Lord Reed spoke, crossing his arms over his slim chest. "But in any case, you've made it here, one way or another. You may speak to me what you like, and I will listen attentively, but you will continue to remain here until I am confident in your purpose."

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

If that conversation had ever taken place, indeed if any of the any of the amazing psychic observations referenced by Crannogmen so far in the Frey's visit were accurate, Meraxes would be astounded to learn of the impressive education system of Greywater Watch... and then would say something terribly mean like, "If you're so smart, why do you have such poor hygiene?"

As for the conversation that did take place, Meraxes merely responded, "And we likely will exchange words in more detail at some point, but not until my true lord arrives."

[Ollie]

Olander ran a hand through his neatly trimmed hair, smoothing down any rogue strand. With a moment of consideration of the Frey's words, he stroked his well-groomed goatee, freshly cut, dirtless nails scratching his clean skin. Finally, he flashed a rare, white-toothed smile that failed to reach his eyes, and nodded.

"Then we will fetch you when he does. Until then, Master Frey," he said as he sketched a bow, and left. Yellow-Teeth would later go on to remark that Lord Reed's breath smelled particularly like spearmint. No, Crow's Feet would explain, more like wintergreen.

[Ollie]

Yellow-Teeth was happily picking his nose up until Crow's Eyes gave him a slap upside the head and a reproachful look.

"Yer lords 'ere, Frey," the older crannogman gummed.

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

Meraxes is examining a folded piece of paper, which he carefully replaces in his boot and stands.

[Tytos]

Pieter enters Meraxes' chambers, and when the guard closes the door he frowns in disdain. "I heard you made quite the entrance, Master Frey." Pieter stated coldly.

[Ollie]

Yellow-Teeth chuckles lowly to himself, until a disproving glare from Crow's Eyes silences him.

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

Hands at his side, Meraxes bowed his head, "My apologies, but I know of few men who could be ccompletely amicable in the place where an honest cousin was murdered for his beliefs. The man who would become Pylos was not a violent man exceot in the manner we revere kings and knights. I never supported his beliefs, but he was an honest man and Olander burthered him like a yiiping dog. I would have preferred to have seen one of my few honest cousins treated with more respect." He raised his head, "My Lord Tully... I know who is funding the rebels and placing them at your throat."