Caravan Insurance

Log Title
Summary: Gauvain offers to send armed accompaniment to the caravan returning to Rikton with goods to replace those lost to bandits in the last shipment.
Date: 29/10/2013
Related: (coming soon)
Gauvain Myrana 

Windmill Inn - Common Room
A bright and cheery inn frequented by the hosts of trade caravans passing through Wolveshire, with clean scrubbed tables and polished floorboards and fresh bread and ale. The common room is full of sunlight and breezy during the day, with stairs leading up to rooms on the second floor and a door into the kitchens that keeps swinging with the passage of servers with trays of good food.

It had been an eventful day. Gauvain is in his armor, and had sent Bethany to send the bird with the information needed to warn the Lady Felicity fo his coming and to get the Garrison armed and prepared for travel. Now he just needed to find a certain merchant and make the seond half of the arrangements. So he waited at the Inn, where he knew she frequented when she was making her rounds on the trade routes.

Eventually, Gauvain's patience is rewarded. Myrana and her brothers are well known at the Windmill Inn, and the Innkeeper is more than happy to provide the knight with ale and some dark bread and cheese while he waits, assuming that he means to speak to Myrana's brother Markys.

Myrana walks in ahead of her brother, dressed in an airy silk bliaut the colour of the sky at twilight thats belted with wine and brass. Her walk is still affected by the bandit raid of but a little while ago, but in the company of her older brother the memory of violence and death is wiped from her mond as she smiles and laughs at a joke Markys makes, dancing a portygul between her white fingers. Markys is dressed in a fine doublet and breeches, and carries a basket of fruit easily in one hand as they make their way in.

"Of course its true," she says. "She really is a sea captain! She promised she'd tell me all about it if she gets her ship back."

"That's not a very good reason to speak to father on her behalf, Myra," says Markys with a laugh. "What if she's tricking you?"

"No, I'm sure she's honest. She's tan like a sailor and she has long legs and I saw her speaking to the southern princess here a few weeks ago."

"All southerners are tan. You just want to write more convincing pirates."


Noting the woman and who she comes in with, the Knight sighs, and fingers the favor for a moment as he considers how to go about this whole thing. With a roll of his armored shoulders, he moves forward and stops in front of Markys and says through non challant eyes, "I need to speak to your sister." He says very gruffly.

He nods to the man as if it is settled, and moves to stand in front of Myrana. "Mistress." He says by way of greeting. "As always a pleasure to see you. I don't have much time Myrana. We're returning to the fortress. In force. I need to purchase some trading supplies to leave in a few days, and I have nearly forty men to garrison them. They'll be heading to Rikton. The village we went to at the base of the Fortress."

"Ser Tarris!" Myrana exclaims, then blinks, taken aback. She didn't expect to see him here, and what he says surprises her more. "You're going back to Rikton?"

"You again!" says Markys. "Whatever you're up to, leave my sister out of it. Come on Myra—"

"Hold on, Markys," says Myra, planting her feet even as her brother grabs her arm and moves to tug her toward the door while shooting a glare at the innkeeper. She looks up at the knight, blue eyes burning through him as her mind whirrs. Rikton! That's the town governed by the loathesome southern knight who set the bandits on her caravan and— Markys tugs on her arm insistently and she snatches it away, giving her brother such a black look that he lets go.

"What sort of supplies?" she asks.

Gauvain gives Markys a look that says very silently and deadly all at once, don't touch her again. Then he looks at Myrana and nods. "Aye." He says softly. "We going to remove him. By force if need be. The supplies are simple. They're for Rikton, so just things that are needed for that town. You were there. Food, medicine, some creature comforts. Gather the supplies. Bethany will be traveling with the Caravan, she'll have the funds to handle whatever cost isn't covered from the trade with the Vilalge."

Myrana fingers the needlework at the edge of her sleeve. "You can't just take Guild goods without a representative there, Ser Gauvain… but… But the bandits did take most everything…Those villagers needed the medicines especially, I know."

Markys scowls and folds his arms.

Myrana chews her lip, looking down at the portygul in her hands.

"We can sell you medicine and goods, Knight, but not if you're going to be impersonating the Guild in some way. It would come back on us," says Markys.

"What if I went with Bethany?" Myrana asks.

Gauvain looks to Markys and glares at the man. "We're NOT impersonating your precious Guild. We are protecting our investment. There has been Bandit attacks. By all means, feel free to supplament the guards I am dispatching." He jabs an armored finger into the other man's chest. "Those people are part of my DUTY. That is to see them safe, and sound. They need those supplies. I'm paying for them. I am seeing them protected. If you wish me to get a Royal decree, watch how fast I make sure you never do bussiness in this town again." He narrows his eyes. Is he bluffing? The Four only know, but in all that armor he is VERY imposing and he is clearly upset. "You have a problem with me. Fine. You and I can settle up after I return. But do NOT presume to think I am going above my station, or performing a dishonor. You will not like the consequences."

He clears his throat but doesn't take his eyes off Myrana. "I would advice against it. If there is another Bandit attack I can not guarantee your safety. True Bethany will be there, so will thirty five other men. So they won't be the cake walk that happened LAST time. I also can not stop you. It IS your caravan."

"W-well actually it's my father's caravan," says Myrana, but Markys talks right over her, riled even if he is intimidated. He and Myrana could be twins though he's a few years older than his little sister and almost as tall as the knight.

"You're bluffing," he says, sucking in a breath at the threat. "Your town needs our trade just like anyone else—"


The young man jerks, startled at the lash of Myra's voice.

"Don't make threats to nobles," she says, her northern accent sharp in the inn full of southerners. "You know where that leads."

Myrana looks up at Gauvain. "We were going to be bringing another delivery that way to… to /repay/ the losses to the manor lord." She swallows, and then lifts her chin. "If Bethany will keep me company, I will make sure there is no misrepresentation in this. She's my friend, and I would feel better in… in her company. Considering the attacks last time we brought a shipment to Rikton, it would be irresponsible not to accept your help. We have a few men with us, more than before, but they are hired new. Markys and I do not know their mettle, and…" She pauses and looks aside, swallowing down an ugly memory. "I would be lying to say I was not afraid to go back into the mountain pass after what happened to Master Bektis."

"You're going to get us into hot water with this, Myra." Markys warns. "What are you thinking?"

"I'm protecting our father's name, Markys! How does it look that we cannot prevent the theft of medicines and grain?" Myrana gives her brother an acid look, eyes flashing… then softens with a flush of remorse, biting her cheek and looking down at her hands. Her brother stiffens. But then he sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks at Gauvain, gaze boring into the bigger, older man. "I take it you will not be with the caravan? I do indeed have complaint against you, but my sister is right; the road to Rikton is more costly than I like. If it were not for our debt with Rikton's master we would not be going." Still, its obvious that if Gauvain IS to be with the caravan, Markys has no intention of accepting the knight's offer of guards.

Gauvain looks over to Myrana and eases off the darker look before looking at Markys. "I will not." He sighs again and then nods once. "I will be escorting His Highness the Prince elsewhere." He clears his throat. "However it is imperative that the Caravan leave on time." He produces a parchment and hands it to Myrana. "This has all the details, and my seal for payment."

"We are never late." Markys looks slightly mollified by Gauvain's assurance that he will not be with the Caravan. Turning to his little sister, he puts his hand gently on her shoulder.

"Bethany is good company for you." With the loud but unspoken: Despite the soil she sprang from. "We will go, and then return to Laketown."

"Of course brother," says Myra, her tone gentle again, meek. "I never thought different." Looking up at Gauvain, she meets his gaze with a wry smile as she takes the parchment. Her cool fingers brush his hand. "My brother and I thank you for your assistance, Ser Tarris. The shipment will be on time."

Gauvain almost reached for her. Almost. He had no idea if he was going to die in a few days. Finally, he simply closes a fist and says, "Myrana." He bows his head as if she were a noble herself. "Thank you mistress. I…" He takes a deep breath and then lets it out. "I'll … see you. Later." He then bows, and heads out of the Inn.

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