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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 16, 2009 13:34:18 GMT -5
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The day had almost ended when the Proud Braavosi docked at Arbor's harbor. The sky was clouded and a light rain was falling, but the weather was warm, being two years into the summer. A pleasant change to the endless Braavosi mist and dampness, Alexander thought. He was going to sleep on the ship tonight, but with the first light he planned to visit his uncle and cousins. They were not expecting him, for this he was sure. The selfsame day that he sailed from Braavos, his father's ship that was to bear his letter to Ser Barris hadn't yet entered the port. He took a last glimpse of the harbor and the suroundings and as the sun was setting he returned to his cabin. Tomorrow, he thought.
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 16, 2009 13:43:39 GMT -5
Next morning the sky was clear when Alexander left the ship. He headed straight for a young guard standing at the docks.
"Hey, lad. Mayhaps you can tell me where to find a good horse? I can pay in bright silver."
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Post by Tallahar on Feb 16, 2009 14:48:11 GMT -5
The lad smiled showing horribly yellow teeth. He also seemed to scratch himself a lot. "Oh well I guess you could go try Old Round Drum. Finest Inn on the Island. He always seems to have a few horses. You know dicing debts and all that."
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 17, 2009 6:42:23 GMT -5
"Well, that'll suffice, methinks. And that's for you" he said, throwing a silver at him, "make yourself some dicing debts tonight."
The innkeeper had an old palfrey and a couple of sickly plow horses, but Alexander didn't want to travel throughout the lenght of the Dothraki Sea, just to ride to the castle. He payed him some two hundred stags for the palfrey and rode out of the port town, past the famous Arbor vineyards, headed straight for the castle. At the gates he spotted a man-at-arms at guarding duty.
"May I speak with the captain of the gates?" he asked him.
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Post by The Flint on Feb 17, 2009 11:03:24 GMT -5
"Why, who in bleeding hell are you?" A wily looking old codger of a crossbowman asks from the parapet.
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 17, 2009 11:51:53 GMT -5
"Bleeding hell? You'll be bleeding soon enough if you don't answer me as befits my rank. I am Alexander Redwyne, son of Ser Barris, brother of Lord Foster. I am his nephew and first cousin of his heir, Ser Paxter, and you are an insolent knave. Now, open this bleeding gate and send someone to escort me to my uncle's hall".
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Post by The Flint on Feb 17, 2009 16:03:45 GMT -5
The guardsman was quiet for a moment, and surveyed the man again.
"Bugger an Other. Mayhaps you is a Redwyne milord. Just a moment."
A short while later, the gate opens, and the sheepish looking guardsman stands beside another elderly man, with a white beard, and mail beneath a grape red cloak.
"Alexander? Alexander Redwyne. How good to see you. I am Ser Betram, Lord Foster's castellan as I was his father's, and a good friend and frequent correspondent to your father. Welcome to the Arbor."
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 18, 2009 2:19:25 GMT -5
"Well met, Ser Bertram. I've heard about you by my father. He seems to hold you in the greater esteem. How does my nuncle fares, and what about my cousins?"
Pausing for a moment, he turns to the old guardsman.
"I do apologize for the way I spoke to you. I was just amusing myself. In the Free Cities one has seldom the chance for such a speech."
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Post by The Flint on Feb 18, 2009 11:15:47 GMT -5
The guardsman half smiled through a set of broken teeth. "is no matter ser, I should not of mouthed off like I did. We just don't get much visitors. Those that come by the gates is usually troublemakers or beggars and the like." Ser Betram waved his fingers as if to tell the crossbowman that "that would be enough," and put an arm on Alexander's shoulders, before leading him in through the gate.
"I am sure your father was much too kind. I had some what given up hope that you would join us here at the Arbor. Your brother Luke came by shortly, had some ideas for a trading company, and than shortly afterwards disappeared again. I fear the wanderlust is in your genes as well."
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 18, 2009 11:36:13 GMT -5
"Aye, but I've left my father's service. I just got bored trading at the Free Cities. I'm sure that I can be of service to my uncle. You see, I'm not a knight, but there are other skills to help someone besides the lance.
And may I ask a favor as well? It's been a while since I had a bit of exercise. After I've seen my nuncle, I'm eager to test my Arakh against the skill of your master-at-arms."
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Post by The Flint on Feb 18, 2009 11:44:18 GMT -5
Ser Betram raised his eyebrow. "An Arakh? You certainly aren't a knight are you." He smiles as he says it, as if he knows something and finds it amusing. Lord Foster is in his Solar looking at trading manifests, but I'm sure he'll make time to see you. Would you like to take a moment to get rested and changed?"
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 18, 2009 11:52:08 GMT -5
Alexander laughed loudly.
"No, I told you I'm not one. A Dothraki tought me how to use my blade and, believe me, it's as much good as a longsword. Alas, he died before he had time to teach me the whip.
I think I can have a few time to change before Lord Foster is over with his matters."
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Post by The Flint on Feb 18, 2009 11:56:33 GMT -5
Ser Betram seemed to have his doubts, but said nothing more on the subject.
"These will be your quarters. Feel free to ask a servant to draw a bath or bring you anything you might need. I'll leave you now to tell Lord Foster of your arrival. Any servant can point you to the solar when you are ready." Ser Betram bowed ever so slightly, than departed.
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Post by Borcas Redwyne on Feb 18, 2009 12:08:50 GMT -5
But just before he left the room, Alexander spoke.
"Ser Bertram, I'd like to have a talk with you later on, if it pleases you."
<OOC. Now what? Am I going to see Lord Foster first?>
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Post by The Flint on Feb 18, 2009 12:18:28 GMT -5
"Of Course Alexander, as it please you." He bowed again.
<ooc: Up to you. I'll play Foster whenever your ready for him."
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Hope you all are well and happy.