Armory In The MorningIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | HoldfastGameLogs | Armory in the morning Rhys arrived at the armoury to find Godwyn and Kenrith standing there, having just knocked. Before arriving at the armory, Rhys stops the first Holdfast guard he sees and sends him out to help with the prisoner. The guards dashed off - something in Rhys's expression suggested that showing reluctance would not be a good idea. The door opened and an armourer showed them all in together.. Godfrey and Ser Anders were there together, talking over one of Sewell's maps of the forest which had been sprad out on a table. They looked up as the others were admitted. Godfrey frowned slightly* at the sight of Rhys. "Maester," he said politely. "Is something wrong?" Kenrith glanced from Rhys to the map, then back to Rhys as he answered. Rhys looked about as disgruntled as any of them had ever seen him. His robes were muddy and stained, he smelled of vomit and worse, and his lip had been bleeding. "Ser Anders, may I talk to you in private, please?" Kenrith's head snapped back around to Rhys just as he started speaking as the sight of him interacted with the reality of it as the smell reached him. He wondered who had mucked out what stable with Rhys, and whether Kenrith or Godwyn would be teaching them the error of picking on the holdfast's maesters. For that matter, he wondered why he wished to speak with only Ser Anders. Godwyn stayed quiet, convinced that, as usual, things were going on that everyone understood but him. "Of course," said Ser Anders. He looked at the others. "If you will excuse me ... " "One moment," said Ser Godfrey. "Maester Rhys - your condition. Is this the result of an encounter with the Boltons?" "An encounter with Tamm, though that's not who I blame," Rhys replied. "One of Holdfast's guards is more liable, hence my desire to speak with Ser Anders." "Yes," said Anders grimly. "The sooner we speak the better." "But you'll do it here," said Godfrey. "This seems something we had all best hear. What has happened?" Kenrith listened intently as Rhys spoke. Rhys paused, as if speaking in front of everyone was something he'd rather not do. "Very well," he said, resigned. "This morning I received notice that Tamm was ill, so I went out to see him. Apparently someone fed him rotten meat for supper last night." He addressed Anders. "I was rather short with the guard for not coming to get me sooner. He'd been sick for some time by the time I saw him in the morning." Rhys turned back to the others. "I left orders for Tamm to be moved to a clean spot, provided with clean clothes, and given fresh water. I came back after a bit to see if these things had been done and found the Holdfast guard beating Tamm. "By the time I got to them, Tamm had overpowered the guard and was choking him with his chains. I hit Tamm to get him to let go, but to no avail. Reasoning was obviously not going to work with him, so I tackled them both. The guard managed to get free, but that's why I'm in the state of disarray I'm in right now. "When I questioned the guard as to why he was beating Tamm, he replied that Tamm had stolen the keys to the chains. I thought this a rather audacious claim and questioned the guard further. The guard saw his keys last about an hour ago and they were loose in his pocket at the Rhys paused again, frowned mightily, and continued. "When I found the prisoner this morning, Ser Corryn was talking to him. And when I questioned Tamm about his illness, Ser Corryn approached the guard and stood quite close to him as he whispered in his ear. "I not accusing Ser Corryn of taking the keys, but he had opportunity. I suggest, to be safe, that the matter be investigated--at the very least, Ser Corryn's access to the prisoner restricted," Rhys finished. He watched Ser Godfrey's face. Kenrith was glad that the decision of what to do next fell on his uncle's shoulders. He was also fairly sure the other men would ask him what he thought... so while he waited for the question, he sought an answer. Ser Anders face had gone white, his eyes narrowing with anger. "That insufferable trader has interfered at Holdfast once too often. I'll ... " "Enough!" It was a roar from Ser Godfrey, slamming his mailed fist down on the table. "Your guard is not without blame in this ... " "Indeed," said Ser Anders, his words coming clipped in his anger. "And he shall be dealt with. But who will deal with the Riverwolf, with his mercenaries camped in our meadow, while he swears allegiance to the Boltons? Will you wait until his ar$e is in your brother's chair before you see his true intentions? Or is that to be reserved for the Boltons?" Godfrey ignored this and turned instead to Rhys. "How was Tamm fed last night? Who brought him his food?" Ser Anders looked at Godwyn. "What instructions did you give for the prisoner's food?" Rhys stared at Godfrey. This was part of exactly what he didn't want to happen--He was about to lie. He gulped and replied, "I don't know, Ser." "You saw the prisoner had been fed poisoned meat and you didn't think to ask who had brought it?" asked Ser Godfrey incredulously. Rhys blinked. In trying to cover up for Syndra, he inadvertantly made things worse. Lying was not something he did well. "I'm sorry. His boy brought the food to him last night, the guard said. I'm must still be shaken up over things." A small frown surfaced then sunk below the surface of Kenrith's lordface. "Then we should question the boy," said Ser Godfrey. "Ser Kenrith ... Godwyn ... do either of you know him?" "The boy is loyal to Tamm, but gullible. Perhaps he will recall who gave him the bowl?" Kenrith suggested. Godwyn nodded. "Nice lad," he said. "But dim." He looked back at Rhys. "How ill is Tamm? Will he be able to fight today? Some might say it is a judgement of the Old Gods to weaken him ... but it seems to me that a rather more mortal agent has intervened." Kenrith commented, "I expect he will insist on fighting today, if he can still speak." Rhys nodded agreement with Kenrith. "I would like to go change. If I may leave...?" he asked Ser Godfrey. "I think that would be as well," Ser Godfrey agreed. "Godwyn, d'you think you can find the boy? Kenrith - what of your plans?" Rhys didn't need to be told twice. He left with alacrity. "Aye," Godwyn answered. "I'll find him, all right." And he gave a bow to his uncle, and a nod to his brother and Ser Anders, and departed. Kenrith stepped up to the map table as his brother answered, studied it a bit longer, then knelt in his armor to pick up several small pebbles from the floor. It was not an easy motion to make while wearing armor, but he seemed familiar enough with distributing his weight in such garb. Compared to the plate mail he'd brought with him from the south, it was simultaneously lighter yet more ungainly, but it didn't seem to present him with a problem. "This was where we forded the river yesturday, was it not?" Kenrith asked Ser Anders as he indicated a point on the page, and placed a small pebble beside it. Ser Anders nodded. "After we crossed, we travelled in this direction," Kenrith said as his finger and mailed arm traced a smooth path to a point where he placed a second pebble. "Here, they rested the maester for a time. I continued along in this direction, and was ambushed from a position around here," Kenrith said as he placed a white pebble. "These are not a few wildings that have just wandered through... they have had time to learn the land, such that they could take to such positions in a great hurry," Kenrith said. "What I plan to do depends on how many men you intend to send me with, and indeed... what your orders are. In the absense of instruction, I would take men and dogs to these three locations," Kenrith said as he indicated three fresh springs. "They're most likely at or near one of them, if they haven't struck camp already. Smoke would be hard to hide at this one, so I expect they are near one of these... and this one is partially visible from the road, or was..." Kenrith said as his statement became a question. "I expect they are, or were, near that spring. If they aren't, I don't know where they'd get enough fresh water for a band of men for a length of time. I can approach from this direction, and try to drive them towards the road... tell me if the terrain has changed, but I believe that approach will provide far fewer clear positions to snipe a man at distance. They'll either have trunks in the way, or be standing in the open," Kenrith said as he studied the other men's faces. "I wouldn't mount that sort of attack with less than twenty men in the forest," said Ser Anders. "And we cannot spare twenty men today. If you wish to track, and explore - that can be done with less." Kenrith nodded, then again slowly. He agreed this should not be attempted with fewer than twenty men. Ser Godfrey looked grave. "Ser Kenrith - you realise that what is happening here threatens not only our honour, but Holdfast itself?" "If we are to treat the forest as our outer curtain wall, and we acknowledge that our Lord has given the order that wildings are to be killed, and that there may be other bands of murderers lurking... perhaps even accomplices to those who threaten us closer... If we do not deal with it today, then it will have to be another day... and soon," Kenrith said. "But I see your point, Ser Godfrey, and as I said... what I do will depend on what your orders are. Many things are happening today, and not the least of them will be mortal jousts which would serve as an excellent diversion for the remainder of Evan's band to mount a rescue attempt... or for the Boltons to try to take the castle. I don't believe Ser Corryn means to have anything to do with such plans... he may well challenge Herys to a joust today himself. But I agree with both of you, and Godwyn. Such things are not to be counted upon." "Still... you are within your rights to insist that a majority of the Manderly and Bolton men join in driving out the wildings in the woods. That would be a dangerous gambit, but Herys' reaction to it alone might reveal much. If nothing else... there are fewer hostages in the woods," Kenrith said as his eyes took on a hard look. Ser Anders and Ser Godfrey exchanged looks. "He has a point," said Ser Anders. "Yes," said Ser Godfrey. "But ... " He turned to Kenrith. "Do you realise what you are asking? We cannot send an equivalent force with you, if you're drawing off a number of the Knives and the Boltons. If the Knives were ... "To prove treacherous," supplied Ser Anders. "To act against Holdfast," amended Ser Godfrey, "then your position would be perilous indeed." "I understand," Kenrith said seriously. "I trust the Holdfast men would still be equal in number to either the Boltons or Knives, considered separately?" Kenrith asked. He did not add 'because it would be an insult to do otherwise.' "So long as..." Kenrith said before pausing. "There is merit in either sending me with the bravest and most stalwart of men, or in doing the reverse so that the best are here in case of trouble... but I do not know the men of Holdfast as well as I would like. Everywhere there are men under arms, I think there are some of each type, but I would like to know which sort I'll have. My answer of whether or not to go, however, is the same," Kenrith said stoicly. Perhaps he even favored being sent into the woods with the worst Holdfast had to offer, potentially untrustworthy allies in the Laughing Knives, and certainly treacherous Boltons. "There seems to be very little to choose between our best and our worst, considering those who died yesterday," said Ser Anders sombrely. "I sent two of my best men with the Maester - the others were more questionable, admittedly, but ... " He shrugged. "All I can say is that whoever I send, they will be wary." At this moment, there came a knock on the door. Ser Anders strode across and opened it - revealing Godwyn and a worried looking Garryn. Kenrith nodded as he started to turn, and added "I understand," in case he hadn't seen it as he turned. Godwyn gave Garryn a push on the shoulder, not harshly but not over gentle either, and the young man half walked and half stumbled into the room. Godwyn walked in after him, and closed the door behind him. "This is Garryt," he said. "He was helping Tamm to armour himself when I found him." "Garryn," Kenrith corrected with a shrug. Garryn looked around apprehensively. "What is it?" he asked. "What do you want?" Instinctively, his eyes went to Kenrith who he knew best. Ser Godfrey, watching, gave Kenrith a brief nod. Kenrith cleared his throat, then moved a stride closer to Garryn. Garryn instinctively took a half step back, then returned to his earlier footing. "Do you know who brought Evan his dinner last night?" Kenrith asked calmly. "Well yes, I did..." Garryn replied. As he saw the grimmer look on Kenrith's face, he started to protest, but Kenrith held up his hand and allowed some of his concern to show through his ordinarily stony expression. "You prepared it yourself?" Kenrith asked. "Well, no... the girl from the kitchen gave it to me," Garryn replied. "Which? Describe her..." Kenrith quickly asked. "Well... she was about this tall," Garryn said as he held out his arm. Apparently, he couldn't decide exactly how tall she was, as he moved his hand over a small range of heights. "I didn't see her that well... it was dark. I think she said it was from Cooke," Garryn said before shrugging and wringing his hands. Kenrith looked to Godfrey and Anders. "Could be any one of the drudges," Godwyn muttered. Godfrey nodded. "Was there anything about her - that stood out in your mind?" he asked. Garryn frowned, trying to remember. "Well," he said slowly, "she was wearing a cloak - it covered her, mostly. grey it was but ... it had blue in the weave. It would be unusual for a drudge to have a cloak where colour could still be distinguished, but perhaps it was not this that made Ser Godfrey start. "What?" "What?" Godwyn repeated, staring at Garryn as though he had just grown another head. Kenrith's eyes narrowed, and any softening of his lordface vanished. "I believe we have no further questions?" Kenrith asked Godfrey. "Not for this boy," said Ser Godfrey grimly. "Go and arm your master, boy. And say nothing of what you told us - to anyone." Garryn need no second telling, but scurried off towards the tournament field. Ser Anders waited until the door had slammed behind him and then said, "Forgive me - but I fail to see why the description of a drudge's cloak should have occasioned such a reaction from the three of you." Godwyn looked at the ground, then at Kenrith, then at Godfrey, then back at the ground once more. "I don't believe it is for me to voice our suspicions," Kenrith said, "But perhaps, after I have left to investigate the forest with the Boltons and Laughing Knives, the joust should be postponed until Rhys feels Evan is hale." Ser Godfrey shook his head. "Rhys said he was well enough to fight. Let's get this over. "Kenrith, you and Ser Anders sort out what you'll need. Godwyn, will you help me arm?" "Aye!" Godwyn says, clearly grateful for the change in topic. He begins to assist his uncle is preparing for the coming combat. Kenrith's world slowed down as he decided which path to follow. He could object, perhaps urge his uncle to reconsider. On the other hand, he had made up his mind, and his father had placed Godfrey over him. Evan was hardly defenseless, and hardly innocent... but the gods might well punish Godfrey's decision with an upset. In the end, he gave Godfrey a long pause to reconsider, but when he did not, he nodded his silent agreement to this wrong and revised his future plans. After today's madness was done, after all those he had sworn to see to-- including Godwyn-- were safe... then he had his Hardy for the wall. It even resolved the problem of his own potential sterility... but if the gods chose this day to cash in on their favor, he could honestly say he had held fast to his family and done his duty. That he was as flawed a knight as every other since the world had grown lesser after the Dragon Knight's death did not escape his attention. Spiritually and physically flawed... the gods would decide which path he should have walked, in the end. Ser Anders looked at him thoughtfully. "Shall we go, then? We need to alert the Boltons and the Laughing Knives that they'll be expected to join your party." Ser Godfrey looked down at Godwyn, fastening his greaves. "What think you, Godwyn? Am I wrong in this? Kenrith clearly thinks so, by his face." Godwyn sighed. "I don't know, Uncle," he answered. "Better it were over with quickly, this affair has dragged out too long already. But...." he shook his head and was silent for a while, then continued. "Fighting a sick man... I mislike it." "And if I don't kill him now," said Godfrey softly, "what tale might emerge of a woman in a grey cloak with blue threads within it?" Godwyn looked at him, his face pale and drawn, as though he were feeling physically ill. "It... it could have been someone who found a cloak like that," he said unconvincingly. "Or... maybe... a ghost, trying to protect you....?" Ser Godfrey sighed. "Do you believe in ghosts, Godwyn? Ones that can rise from their graves to hand squires poisoned bowls of soup?" Godwyn looked stricken, but he also appeared to be considering the question seriously. "I... I don't know, uncle," he finally answered. "It seems easier to believe that than..." He shook his head. "I agree," said Godfrey. He reached down and grasped Godwyn's arm, drawing him to his feet, so that they stood face to face. "If someone were under a great deal of strain," he said. "If someone felt harried and trapped into something that they hated and feared, if all the talk of chivalry and honour seemed to do nothing but fashion a cage to trap them in ... they might act ... ill-advisedly. Don't you think?" "Aye," Godwun answered, meeting his uncles's eyes. "And mayhaps we have been..." he hesitated, "...been too demanding, asked an understanding of male honour that she... that someone... isn't capable of truly understanding. Not in the same way we do." "And perhaps too the someone is young," said Ser Godfrey, "and too long left alone .. " He was silent for a moment, then said, more briskly, "Now - the cuirass!" As he spoke, there was a knock at the door. "See who it is," Godfrey said to his nephew. "Aye, uncle," Godwyn answered, setting the cuirass back down and striding to the door. He opened it with a scowl on his face. Rhys stood on the other side, this time in a clean robe and not smelling of vomit. "Godwyn," he acknowledged, raising an eyebrow at his expression. "I'm looking for your uncle. Is he here?" Godwyn's expression softened. "He is," he answered. "Come on in." He held the door open. "I hope you don't have yet more bad news for us?" Rhys looked pained. "I'm afraid I may." He stepped past Godwyn and walked toward Godfrey. "A message for you, Ser, from Winterfell. Came in by raven this morning." He handed the message to him. Ser Godfrey read it, frowning. "I suspect this tells me what we have already learned," he said at last. "But I'll send a raven back to let my Lord Stark have more particulars of what has happened here." Rhys looked like he wanted to ask about the contents of the message, but refrained and left whether or not to divulge it up to Godfrey. "Would you like me to take down your message now?" he asked. Ser Godfrey considered - and then shook his head. "After the contest will do. Godwyn ... a little tighter there, I think. Maester Rhys, have you seen my daughter this morning?" Rhys paused, then nodded. "Yes, I have. She was over at the Laughing Knives' camp." Godwyn's face tightened. "The River Wolf," he muttered. "It's his kind of trick." Rhys raised his eyebrows. "Trick?" Godwyn continued with the business of armouring his uncle, not answering. "The Riverwolf is known for attaining his ends by devious means," said Ser Godfrey. "Yet in this I hold him wholly blameless. His sense of honour may swerve a little, but he wouldn't ... " He broke off, frowning. "How does the prisoner now, Maester Rhys?" "I don't know, Ser. I haven't been out to see him since you saw me last. Would you like me to go see?" "He looked as disagreeable, and healthy, as ever when I fetched his boy," Godwyn said. He stepped back and considered his uncle's armour, then began doing final fussing with it, tightening a strap here and there, resettling a shoulder plate, until he was happy with it. "Whatever ailed him seems indeed to have passed, based on the tussle I was in with him," Rhys said carefully. Ser Godfrey swung (a little ponderously now) to look at him. "Tussle?" he asked. "Yes. I mentioned it to you earlier," Rhys replied. "When Tamm overpowered his guard and started choking him with the chains, I tackled him to free the guard. We tussled briefly before I and the guard got away." Godwyn nodded. "Aye," he said. Then, "You're ready, uncle, save for your helm. I'll carry that for you." "My thanks," said Godfrey. "We best go to the stables. My own horse ... one for Tamm ... " They made their way solemnly from the armoury. When they reached the entrance to the castle itself, a quick step made Godfrey stop and wait until Lady Celia caught up with them. "You are determined to ride, then?" she asked. Godfrey nodded grimly. Another voice spoke from the shadows as Ser Herys Bolton moved forward. "And I wish you joy in putting an end to the misbegotten wretch." His face was pale and a muscle beneath his left eye twitched spasmodically. Godwyn looked at Herys, staring at his twitching eye. He tilted his head to one side to get a better view. He nodded his head slightly in time to the twitching. He smiled, just a little bit. Rhys said nothing, just observed. He stayed close to Godfrey, remembering his promise to Syndra. Godwyn looked at Herys, staring at his twitching eye. He tilted his head to one side to get a better view. He nodded his head slightly in time to the twitching. He smiled, just a little bit. "Your son," said Ser Godfrey, stressing the last word, "shall have justice. And if you will excuse us ... " "I was hoping," said Ser Herys, "to speak with your Maester here." Rhys's eyebrows raised in surprise. He glanced at Godfrey, his expression clearly indicating that he had little to no desire to speak with Herys. Godwyn began tapping his fingers on the helm he carried. Surely it was only coincidence that the tapping was in rythm with the tic in Herys' eye. "After the tournament, perhaps," said Godfrey. Ser Herys cast an annoyed look at Godwyn, but then said smoothly, "Actually, I had heard that the prisoner was sick overnight. I wished to be assured that this would not prevent justice being served. Young Maester here is young ... I wanted to warn him that this illness would be typical of Tamm's tricks ... " "I may be young, but I know my art," Rhys replied sharply as he fingered the silver link around his neck. "Tamm is recovered enough to fight." "Excellent news," said Ser Herys. "I am glad to see we are of one mind in this ... " His voice broke off as he observed a newcomer coming to join the group - Ser Corryn. |
