Breakfast in ClearwaterIndex | HomePage | GameLogs | Pre-GameLogs | ClearwaterPre-GameLogs | Breakfast in Clearwater TrailIndexPage | HomePage | GameLogs | Pre-GameLogs | ClearwaterPre-GameLogs | Breakfast in Clearwater Derron was still stretching and yawning as he entered the kitchen. The cooks glared at him, still a bit angry over last night's meetings. The chief cook's glare was the steeliest, but Derron met her gaze with equanimity. They stared at each other until finally Derron said, "I'll just grab a plate and head back to the forge." The cook scowled and replied, "First, I've sent Alanna to town to buy flour with the money gave us. Second, Ser Tomas wants you at the High Table with your meal. Now." One of the serving girls already was heaping a plate with scrambled eggs, bread and some meat. He could see it was a rather fatty piece, but he didn't complain. When he tried to take the plate from the girl, she turned and led him to the Great Hall. He began to regret not making himself more presentable. All he had done was dunk his head in a barrel and comb his hair. His clothes were his usual working garb. The girl set the plate by a chair, next to Ser Romas who was already finishing his meal. It was well-known he was among the earliest risers in the manor. Derron felt acutely self-conscious as he sat down, aware of every small tear in his clothes, and tiny stain. "Good morrow, Derron Thorne," said Ser Tomas, who was starting on what looked to be a heartyy bbreakfast. "I shall not pain you by using your new title, though you be as well to get used to the sound of Steward Thorne, I fear. "How was your gathering last night? I hear you acquitted yourself well against the Clerk of Works." Derron reddened slightly as he began to eat. "The fool tried to attack someone who revealed where he had hidden some of the money he stole. He's no fighter." He swallowed a few bites quickly, used to eating as a soldier does. As if you may not have a chance at a decent meal for some time to come. He then said, "Things went well enough. Many are less than pleased I am in charge. But they are all currently accepting of it." He drank some weak ale then added, "I hope that I have also found a deputy, one I can train to take over for me." "Oh?" said Ser Tomas, dipping his bread in the bacon fat. "Who's that? Do I know him?" "A plasterer named Linnel. I intend to ask around and learn more about him. If his character is good, I'll make him deputy," Derron replied. "A local or someone from Barrowton?" asked Ser Tomas. "The name seems familiar ... But doesn't set the alarum ringing." Derron shrugged slightly. "He said he came from the south. I guess having one Northman and one Southman might not be a bad way of doing business." Ser Tomas smiled. "It would make a certain sense," he agreed. "Well, if he's a Barrowton native by bith, have a word with the Sergeant. He knows most of the men who came with us - and their families too." He paused for a moment and then said, "The Maester came to see me last night. He is troubled about the Lady." Derron nodded at the mention of the Sergeant. But at the mention of the Lady, he looked puzzled. "I see. I suppose I am troubled as well. Has he any insights?" "He was more anxious to understand the reasons than to offer solutions, which I found somewhat comforting. The last thing we need is for a callow young Maester to rush in and make judgements ... Clearwater, Derron Thorne, is anything but its name ... " Derron sighed. "Never has been, Ser." He paused, then added, "But with any luck, things will become crystal clear." "Indeed," said the Master of Arms. He hesitated and then said, "You may have wondered why I am prepared to let Aerin train at arms. I have hopes that it might encourage uyoung Rannulf to emulate her. It is time and past he should learn to weild a sword, rather than sitting in his room all day, making pictures." "Hrmph!" Aerin snorted as she sat down next to her father at the table. She reached and grabbed a roll from the basket in front of her and the platter of eggs, pushing two onto her plate. Derron decided that his plate was very interesting at this moment. He did not wish to get involved in this conversation. "Um, I should be getting to work. My new work, that is. Um, good morning to you both." But for some reason he just sat there, feeling uncomfortable. Aerin snagged a slice of ham and dropped that onto her plate as well. "Father? What does it mean to take the Way of the Sword?" she asked conversationally. "I should imagine its a Braavos phrase," said Ser Tomas. "Is that the name our young sellswords gives to his training?" At this point Merivel appeared. Words of greeting seemed to hover upon his lips, as if afraid to be uttered for fear of disturbing the question Aerin raised upon his entry. Ser Tomas rose respectfully and waited for the Maester to take a seat, signalling the serving girl to come closer to see what the Maester required. "Oh, I think I see everything I need right here." Merivel replied with a quiet smile to the serving girl, helping himself to a slice of ham, and an egg in the bargain. "I was just wondering," Aerin said idly, cutting into her ham with her belt knife. "It's just the Sellsword seemed to think it important I understand that before I accepted training with him," she announced, then popped the slice of ham with a piece of fried egg into her mouth with her knife. "And he gave you no more details than that?" asked Ser Tomas, before saying to the Maester, "I suggested that Aerin receive some training from our visitor from foreign parts." "Martial training." Merivel considered this for a moment as he cut a slice of ham. "I don't know much about the swordsman to commend or warn you against training with him, Aerin." "I myself am no expert with a blade, but I do know its more than putting the pointy end into the other guy." Merivel chuckled at his own jest. "I could watch him, if you like. See if he really knows his way around a sword." Merivel said. Aerin looked at Merivel with curiosity. "I need to give the sellsword an answer by dinner tonight. I would go with you to watch him." Ser Tomas smiled. "He might find it less intimidating to be observed by the Maester than the Master," he said. "If anything intimidates that young man at all. But still, Maester, I'd appreciate your insight into this." Merivel nodded his acquiescence. "Then, perhaps, after we finish breaking our fast, we shall go." Tomas glanced at Derron Thorne next to him. "Have you heard about the changes in Clearwater, Maester?" Merivel blinked in surprise at Tomas' turn of phrase. "Changes?" he responded, trying to keep uncertainty out of his voice and not completely succeeding. "Derron Thorne has been appointed Steward," said Ser Tomas, gesturing towards the man beside him. "We can hope that the Castle will be brought back into good order at last - and that the quality of provender reaching our tables will improve too. I am of the opinion this sausage had but glancing acquaintance with a pig, at best." Derron shrugged and said, "Come now, Ser Tomas. An experienced soldier such as yourself must have eaten much worse in his day. I know I have." He chewed and swallowed some, then said, "But rest assured, if the food is of this quality, we will forthwith pay only what it is worth." He grinned for the first timer in a while. Ser Tomas smiled, watching to see how the Maester responded to the changed arrangements. Merivel blinked his eyes and nodded toward Derron. "While I have to say that the choice is unexpected." Merivel replied. "I have to say that the choice was made well nevertheless." At the same time he added, "And what did your new instructor tell you about the way of the sword, daughter?" Aerin looked down at her platter. "That it would hurt, and it would be long," she said, pensive. "What happens if I say yes, but the Lord doesn't offer him a post? Do I leave with him?" she asked Ser Tomas. Ser Tomas smiled. "He'll offer him a post," he said. "And you had best decide if you want to train with him - and if you are going to thank the Maester for his offer and ask Derron Thorne if he will allow you to use one of his practice blades." Merivel smiled, preferring to let father and daughter speak, rather than interrupting. To outside appearance, he was far more interested in his food. Aerin sighed. She hated it when her father reminded of her of protocol. But it was a necessary thing for a warrior to understand it. She put down her fork. "Thank you, Maester, for offering to go and evaluate the sellsword," she said formally. "It is appreciated," she told the Maester. "Steward Thorne?" she continued, turning to Derron. "If it's not a terrible imposition maybe there's a training sword I can use from your shop if the sellsword accepts me as a student?" she asked carefully. Ser Tomas looked on approvingly. Seeing the look on the face of Ser Tomas, Derron said, "Aye, lass. After we finish eating, you find Niko. Bring him with you, and we will choose the proper blade for you." Merivel nodded in agreement. Ser Tomas started to choke on the piece of sausage he had been attempting to swallow, his face turning bright red. Derron laughed aloud, then tried to stifle his laughter at the look on the face of Ser Tomas. He managed to catch his breath for a moment, then chuckled again, but softly. Aerin looked up at her father when he started to make choking sounds. She reached up and hit him sharp across his upper back. "Better?" she asked, mildly concerned. "I will be better," said her father testily, "when you don't come out with tomfool ideas in the middle of breakfast. Yes it will hurt and yes it will be long if you want to train to any standard at all. But no you don't leave with him. You're my daughter and you'll stay here until we find a man reckless enough to take you off my hands." The fiereceness of this was undercut by the note of affection in the last words. Aerin gave her father an askance look. "Then... I can't accept his offer if the lord doesn't offer him a post today?" she asked bluntly. "I mean... you told me to ask him, and I have to give the sellsword an answer today." Ser Tomas smiled. "He'll offer him a post," he said. "And you had best decide if you want to train with him - and if you are going to thank the Maester for his offer and ask Derron Thorne if he will allow you to use one of his practice blades." Merivel smiled, preferring to let father and daughter speak, rather than interrupting. To outside appearance, he was far more interested in his food. Aerin sighed. She hated it when her father reminded of her of protocol. But it was a necessary thing for a warrior to understand it. She put down her fork. "Thank you, Maester, for offering to go and evaluate the sellsword," she said formally. "It is appreciated," she told the Maester. "Steward Thorne?" she continued, turning to Derron. "If it's not a terrible imposition maybe there's a training sword I can use from your shop if the sellsword accepts me as a student?" she asked carefully. Ser Tomas looked on approvingly. Seeing the look on the face of Ser Tomas, Derron said, "Aye, lass. After we finish eating, you find Niko. Bring him with you, and we will choose the proper blade for you." Merivel nodded in agreement. "Thank you Steward. Thank you Maester," Aerin said dutifully. Then she picked up a thick slice of the last of the bought bread, slathered some honey on it, put the ham and egg on it and folded it on itself in a hot, steamy mess. Then took a huge bite out of it and started to chew. "Anytime you're ready," she told Merivel through a full mouth. "Immimently." Merivel said in response, after clearing the remnants of his place. "Imminently, my lady Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, Clearwater |