Pyke Hall

[Erik]

Tyberion nods. "A fine point. Well then," He raises his mug, "To picking a flower."

[Ollie]

Being an uninvited guest, and unsure of the proper ironborn protocol, Lord Belmore decides that a short knock followed by a pause should suffice before entering. The heavy door announces the valelord's entrance, a gust of summer evening air sneaking in before Edwyn closes it behind him. He makes no illusions about his presence, and makes a casual beeline for the bar, as his knowledge of ironborn custom dictates.

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

Probably uninvited and unwanted, the Lord of the Crossing makes his way to sit beside the only other Andal in the room.

Assuming he's not booted out, of course.

"Hello." says the well-groomed young man who couldn't even be twenty.

[Ollie]

Edwyn threw a leery glance at Victor and huffed. "You're lucky Smallwood didn't take your lands back there, Frey," he said over his untouched ale. "Or your head."

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

He laughs at the idea. "No, not really... he knows we're good at making money and he probably would be surprised if I hadn't asked for the job. What's your drink, Belmore?"

[Ollie]

"Ale," he replied curtly. "I wouldn't trust the wine here unless I saw the grapes mashed myself."

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

"Water. I wouldn't trust the ale unless I saw another man drink it." He orders ale and water. "So you must be pleased... I didn't hear Vale history get rewritten today."

[Ollie]

Edwyn takes a conservative sip from his mug, and gives a large roll of his shoulders at the comment. "You also didn't hear the Vale speaking up to make asses of themselves. With a man like Rodrick, one ought to sit down, shut up, and kneel often."

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

"Freys don't make asses of themselves, they just wait for the shit to fly so we don't smell as bad." He raised his cup. "To Lefford and Vance... for letting us look so much better in comparison.

[Ollie]

Belmore does not raise his mug in toast, clicking his tongue contemptuously instead and sipping his ale in silence.

[Fel]

Dec 8, 2008 22:02:17 GMT -5 Erik said:

Tyberion nods. "A fine point. Well then," He raises his mug, "To picking a flower."

Wulf raises his mug, "may it always be so easy."

He notices the other lords sitting at the bar, and nods to Rodrik to go see to them.


Rodrik approaches the two men, "not many greenlanders find their way in here," he says, sitting beside them, "did the king finally drink the city dry and you sought the last refuge of ale?"

[Lord Gaspard Yronwood]

"Something like that. Victor Frey, Edwyn Belmore. He's a bit gloomy right now. I don't think he enjoys his work, though he might just not like me. Freys get that a lot."

[Fel]

"And who can blame him, eh?" Rodrik asks, clapping Victor on the back, "you Freys are contemptible lot after all, almost as bad as the Boltons."

[Ollie]

"Butchering a man and eating his flesh, or doing the same and selling him for gold and rank," he mused. "Can one really say which is worse?"

[Fel]

Rodrik chuckles, "though I suppose having a bad reputation is better than none at all. Never heard of the Belmores, what's your family known for?"