Winterfell

[The Flint]

Talyn nodded and turned to the young Starks, "I am sorry to hear about your parents. I did not know them, but I knew many who liked and respected them. You have my condolences."

[The Smith]

Lady Beatrice nodded her head regally, "Thank you. I have heard of your parents as well."

[The Flint]

Talyn frowned, "Ah... yes. I imagine so," he surveyed the table for some food to put in his mouth and stave off any uncomfortable questions.

[The Smith]

The trays of food were overladen; but the variety is lacking, mostly breads and dried meats.

Tyberrion studied Talyn openly and smiled at Lady Stark's comment. He was telling a story to his neighbor about a tourney he had seen in his youth.

[The Flint]

Talyn examined the two Stark men-at-arms for a moment. "Have I perhaps seen either of you two good sers before? Perhaps in a tourney or the like?"

[The Smith]

The man with a gray beard looked up and starred ice at Talyn, "I know who your father is too." He glanced at Lady Stark, and grimaced, "You should be down below the salt."

[The Flint]

"You'll get no argument from me on that count," Talyn confirmed, "but since it has pleased the lady to place me here, may I at least know your name ser? It will make it easier, if I ask you to pass the salt."

[The Smith]

The other man with a large scar across his face growled, "Fuck your mother."

The gray haired one's fists clenched, "I am Fredrick."

[The Flint]

Talyn bristled slightly, "You can say whatever you wish about my father ser, and I shall agree and tell you one better. But I'll not hear ill regarding my mother." He caught the man's eye and glared hard.

[The Smith]

The scar-faced man, "Well she fucked your father right. At least once. Fucking whore, how much did he pay her." his voice was low and harsh.

The buzz of Westerman conversation covered his angry words.

[The Flint]

"I'll have your name ser, so that you might answer for your words, since you can't seem to hold your tongue despite a polite request."

[The Smith]

The Scarred man leaned close, "Ser Fuck You." He reached over the table and jabbed Thatcher's chest.

[The Flint]

Talyn slapped the man's hand away, and shot to his feet.

"Forgive me Lady Stark, your lordship, but I cannot eat with this man speaking ill of my departed mother. Do you perhaps have a place where he and I might settle this so that one of us at least, can finish their meal in peace."

[The Smith]

Beatrice frowned, "That is my man Reginold. He has guarded me since my parents died." She leaned forward.

Tyberrion shifted in his seat, "Must you Thatcher?" His eyes turned to scan the hall.

Reginold stood and growled, "There is place outside, Thatcher." He sneered the last name.

[The Flint]

Talyn nodded, "I understand Lady Beatrice, and I apologize for this disruption. If your man is a loyal one, perhaps you can have him give an apology for ill said words."