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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 1, 2011 11:21:01 GMT -5
"Yes, quite, quite," Sybil agreed. "It is well known. I have heard tell also that Ser Erik Tyrell is quite the lance,"
A subtle intensity grew in her eyes as she gauged their responses.
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Post by Edric Stark on Jun 1, 2011 13:02:20 GMT -5
Ser Rylan nodded. "So they say."
Jaymes shrugged. "I don't even know who that is. But pardon my earlier rudeness, my lady. I just feel like I have to tell you that you look exceptional," he grinned.
Rylan looked somewhat apologetic.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 2, 2011 10:47:58 GMT -5
Sybil smiled politely at Rylan.
She looked taken aback by Lord Jaymes' statement. She smiled, her lips quivering slightly in the corners.
"Why thank you Lord Jaymes. You shall make me blush."
She turned away to her daughter.
"Dacey, I believe Septa Deana wanted to see you. You should go to her."
The little girl trotted off and Sybil turned back to her guests.
"You will forgive me sers, I have business to attend to at present - the servants will show you to your quarters. The men will arrive back from the hunt this evening."
She curtseyed and turned to leave.
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Post by Edric Stark on Jun 2, 2011 12:12:27 GMT -5
The Costaynes waited until Sybil departed and Jaymes scratched his head. "I thought they were going to show us to food," he told Ser Rylan who shrugged in response.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 5, 2011 8:30:47 GMT -5
//////////////////////
The hunting party returns to Brightwater Keep, tired but it good spirits. The haul is modest but significant enough to feed the assembled guests at the evening's feast.
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Post by Horas on Jun 5, 2011 14:21:30 GMT -5
Lord Redwyne did not take the first stag, but he pays his wager to the winner in good spirits. He settles in for the feast at the high table among the other noble guests. He looks at a pair of men he does not recognize, who appear to be among the guests and not Lord Florent's retinue.
"Have we met?" Lord Hugo asks Lord Costayne, leaning over with a smile. He is a large man, broad of shoulder with a sizable belly and a curly red beard gone mostly to grey.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 8, 2011 14:45:53 GMT -5
The Feast for Lady Dacey's nameday takes place - a festival of Florent flavours. The game caught during the day's hunt makes up the bulk of the fare, all marinated in fine wines from the Arbor and stuffed with exotic herbs and spices bought from traders at Oldtown. The hall is filled with a warm, spicy air so thick you could almost hack at it with an axe.
A trio of red-feathered Summer Islanders catch the eye as they dance, sing and juggle for the assembled guests. Lady Dacey herself is particularly enamoured with one of these, giggling as he performs her favourite songs for her.
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Post by Horas on Jun 9, 2011 15:25:18 GMT -5
When the feast is winding down, Lord Hugo leans over to Lord Alphonse. After some general compliments on the quality of the food and the entertainment, he says, "What do you think of my grandsons, Alphonse?" he gestures at the two boys, who watch the juggling Summer Islanders with interest. They were both healthy young boys, a little unruly but not unduly so. "I had hoped I might leave Ryam here, to squire for you, as your son has done for me."
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 10, 2011 14:19:41 GMT -5
Florent eyes the boy critically for a few moments before turning back to Hugo.
"How old is Ryam now?"
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Post by Horas on Jun 10, 2011 15:00:21 GMT -5
"Eleven," Hugo replies, pointing him out. The boy is almost indistinguishable from his brother, aside from being a few inches taller. "My son Ranulf's oldest boy. I figure it's time he leaves home to squire, and I would be honored if you took him on."
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 11, 2011 13:11:31 GMT -5
Alphonse switches his gaze to Ryam, having been looking at the shorter twin. He nods firmly.
"A good age. I would be pleased to return the favour. The Seven know I could certainly use a squire." He rubs at his back dramatically and feigns a look of pain before breaking into a grin.
"Summon him over, I would hear his opinion on the matter."
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Post by Horas on Jun 11, 2011 13:34:07 GMT -5
"Ryam!" Hugo shouts. The boy scrambles over in short order. "You're to stay here and squire for Lord Florent, as we talked about."
Ryam nods vigorously. "Yes, Lord Grandfather. Yes, Lord Florent." He is tall for his age, with dark hair and a smattering of freckles across his nose and cheeks. "Will I get a sword?" he asks, "A real one, I mean."
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 11, 2011 14:04:36 GMT -5
Lord Florent laughs heartily.
He turns to Hugo with a smile. "He's certainly eager."
"In time Ryam. And in time, you shall become Ser Ryam and you shall defend the virtues of the Seven. But there is a lot of work to be done before that point. Serve well and you shall get there. Are you willing to serve well?"
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Post by Horas on Jun 11, 2011 14:13:08 GMT -5
"I can serve really good, Lord Florent," the boy replies with the surety of youth, "And if someone tries to hurt you, I'll stab him right in the belly." He mimes doing just so with an imaginary sword.
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Post by Quenton Baratheon on Jun 11, 2011 14:29:04 GMT -5
Florent laughs again at the boy's attitude.
"I'm sure it'll never come to that Ryam, but I'm glad to have your protection. Just so long as you don't protect me well enough to put Ser Ryan Norcross out of a job." He jerks a thumb over at his personal guard.
"I don't think he'd take that very well."
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Hope you all are well and happy.