Post by The Smith on Oct 15, 2008 19:50:33 GMT -5
The newly christened Lord Rupert stood at the exit of Gallowsgrey. He, and a few good men, were all that were going to be leaving their home, headed toward King's Landing. Rupert had only visited twice before, and both times, he had been but a boy. Now, however, he was a man grown, ten and nine years, with land under him, and people, it was time he started looking at the world as a Lord. As such, he knew that he had to do what was best for his people, and that was to rebuild. But the coffers were not nearly as full as they used to be under his father's leadership. He knew that both Eion and Wilm, his elder brothers, would have been able to produce the needed funds to rejuvenate Gallowsgrey, but he had never had much for experience, and so, in his mind, the only feasible solution was to travel to tourney, to try and win at least some of the coin it would take to start the reconstructive process.
He shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, letting the cowl fall back a bit, and turned to the man nearest him. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, with a bristly grey mustache and a crooked sort of nose. Wedged in between his teeth was a stem of long grass. It was Ser Elias Buckler, the Master at Arms. He was always the friendliest of men, especially to Rupert, though now he looked a bit grave. The death of loved ones would do that. Rupert, realizing this, suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. He had never been close with his family, and the saddest of revelations was that perhaps Elias felt the loss more strongly than he himself, despite that it was his blood and kin. Ser Elias spit the stem from his mouth and took Rupert's arm into a rough embrace.
"Go on then, Rupert. Take this mourning into your heart. Keep it there, and use it to great success. Bring us back some coin to rebuild with, boy. Give us some joy during this time of tragedy." His normally warm smile was replaced by a sad firmness, such as the kind you use to break bad news to a small child. Rupert knew that even cheerful Ser Elias felt as if hope was lost. The young lord nodded.
"Aye, I will Ser Elias." He did not know what else to say save that, and so he just turned towards the cold, morning horizon and moved forward, his mount nickering softly.
Rupert silently wondered what would await him in King's Landing. He hoped that whatever it was, was good.
He shrugged his cloak from his shoulders, letting the cowl fall back a bit, and turned to the man nearest him. He was a tall, broad shouldered man, with a bristly grey mustache and a crooked sort of nose. Wedged in between his teeth was a stem of long grass. It was Ser Elias Buckler, the Master at Arms. He was always the friendliest of men, especially to Rupert, though now he looked a bit grave. The death of loved ones would do that. Rupert, realizing this, suddenly felt a bit uncomfortable. He had never been close with his family, and the saddest of revelations was that perhaps Elias felt the loss more strongly than he himself, despite that it was his blood and kin. Ser Elias spit the stem from his mouth and took Rupert's arm into a rough embrace.
"Go on then, Rupert. Take this mourning into your heart. Keep it there, and use it to great success. Bring us back some coin to rebuild with, boy. Give us some joy during this time of tragedy." His normally warm smile was replaced by a sad firmness, such as the kind you use to break bad news to a small child. Rupert knew that even cheerful Ser Elias felt as if hope was lost. The young lord nodded.
"Aye, I will Ser Elias." He did not know what else to say save that, and so he just turned towards the cold, morning horizon and moved forward, his mount nickering softly.
Rupert silently wondered what would await him in King's Landing. He hoped that whatever it was, was good.