Confusing Reports and Offensive Hairdos

Confusing Reports and Offensive Hairdos
Summary: On the following morning Sir Gauvain reports to Samwell about what happened at night, with Sir Deidra and Lady Claire Sollinger in attendance.
Date: 10/10/2013
Related: Murder on the Road
Gauvain Samwell Deidra Claire 

A camp
Tents, people, trees probably. Horses.
October 10th, 1329

It had been a long morning. Gauvain was now dressed, and once again in his armor. He had to admit, he certainly missed this life. The difference was the braid. Bethany had insisted that the tied back hair was just uncouth when dealing with a Prince. So she had spent a meticulous amount of time in braiding it.

The big knight stopped outside the Prince's tent, as servents and soldiers were preparing for travel. He nodded once to himself and went in, figuring the Prince would NOT be pleased with how the events from the other evening had gone. He stepped in and took a look around, noting the food the the servent shad set for Samwell's breafast, and then looking to the Prince himself. "Good Marrow your Grace." He begins. "I have news, from the Hamlet we stopped near. Aldworth."

Samwell is getting ready to meet the Losthren's in their castle and looking his royal best. All freshly washed blue and white clothes, wavy hair and glittering jewels. "Morning, Gauvain.", he greets the knight, "I heard that there was some altercation last night. What happened?"

Standing perfectly still in the shadows until now is Sir Deidra, but when the other knight enters she chooses to step into the light as well with a slightly sour look on her face. "Sir," the Blue Guard greets with a nod in greeting, not really unfriendly but with little enthusiasm that shows in her sparing use of words when addressing the man. Her dark brown hair is tied back into a pony tail - uncouth that? If so she never heard of it - and she wears the plate armor and the blue cloak that clarifies her station as one of Prince Samwell's elite knights.

"A murder your Grace," The big man replies evenly. Nodding to Deidra he replies, "Sir." He raises an eyebrow at the attire but keeps the comments to himself. He looks at the man's eyes and takes a deep breath. "The Dalen household. They had a ranch that unsurprisingly in this portion of the Kingdom tended and raised Horses. They had a storefront in the Hamlet. The reason is unknown, and we may never know, but a man, named Roland Ferth, had kicked in the front door. Slashed the face of the Wife, Mistress Evelyn, stabbed the husband four times in the gut, and then slit the man's throat." He went outside, and released a horse.

Gauvain shakes his head. "The man's plan worked. We all thought it was jsut Horse Thievery. Turns out, he was our Guide. Evelyn said he had been wearing a cloak and could not make out the features. He tried to mask his innocence in the open. When Sir Jaren worked it out, he drew a dagger, encrusted in blood mind you, and tried to kill one of the Lady Sollinger's guards who ahd acocmpanied us to tend to the Mistress Dalen. Jaren acted quickly and drew hsi sword. He thrusted, and rammed it through the killer's left lung."

Gauvain shifts his feet a little and takes a deep breath. "The Lady Claire…. She stitched the woman up. She'll scar. Aye. But if the Lady hadn't been there, she'd be dead."

For Claire to be crossing the grounds this morning clad in something practical such as trousers and tunic, the latter belted with a thick belt across her waist? The last thing on her mind are formal niceties or intentions of such. Likely borrowed from her maid given the looseness. Not when there are a few pages of paper carried in a loose roll in one hand while approaching the prince's tent. Rather than barge right on in, she pauses to speak with the guards, indicating that she'd like to speak with their commanding officer first. And so she'll wait.

Samwell listens to Gauvain's tale with an increasingly deep frown. "Our guide? And why did the man attack the family? It all sounds like a rather messy affair. What were you doing in the hamlet in the first place? Especially the Lady Claire?", he asks, then looks up when he hears her voice outside. Speak of the devil. "Please enter, Mylady!", he calls out.

With a curt bow on entry, the mere fact that she does so while attired in such a fashion may indicate why the greeting seems out of place for Claire. Nevertheless, with one arm lifted at her waist and the other at her side carrying the rolled report, she enters with a glance first to Deidra and then to Gauvain before settling her attention on Samwell. "Your Highness. I had thought that you might wish to have my medical notes on the matter of Mistress Evelyn. More so given that this was, is a matter of law."

"The murderer came to the Camp, asking for help for the woman who was slashed." Gauvain says easily. "I had the watch. I like the night watch, its quiet." The Knight looks to the other knight in the room. "I went and got Jaren as well as the Lady Sollinger." When he hears her name he turns and nods to the woman. "My Lady. I hope the Mistress Evelyn will at least recover fully?" He asks of the Noble woman as she enters.

Then he returns his attention to Samwell. "The Guide, who was the Murderer, had tricked us into thinking he was just a concerned citizen. We investigated the scene," He shakes his head, "Well. Jaren did. I am not good at investigation. Battle Tactics, sword play. I'm your man. But figuring out who done it? Well. Jaren did that. The man paniced, and then drew blade. One of the lady Sollinger's guards was standing near the front door. Sir Jaren, drew his blade, and stopped the man before he could kill the guard."

Samwell looks even more confused now. "The murderer… did the deed… got away… then came to his camp to enquire after the woman he cut?", he asks Gauvain, "In that world does that make any sense?" He looks to Claire as it for help, staring at the scroll she's holding out to him as if she's offering him a dead rat. "What am I supposed to do with that?"

Gauvain shakes his head. "I … It is a confusing thing your Grace." Gauvain says evenly. "The Lady Sollinger was present and can account for it." He shrugs. "Maybe he thought the Horse he released would throw us off." He shkae shis head. "The Four know what he was thinking. It almost worked, the man was walking out when Jaren puzzled it out."

"The description of the mistress' injuries," Claire explains after a few moments with the offering of the scroll before stepping back with a position of listening. "If it would be needed. Otherwise, it is of no need. Though, I am not sure what else I can add to the incident."

"Well, it all seems fairly odd to me.", Samwell mutters and accepts the scroll to place it on a chest - into which it will probably disappear unread. "Sir Deidra will accompany me to Lord Losthren in a moment. Would either of you care to join me?", he asks.

Deidra had offered Lady Claire a deep bow as required, and noticed Gauvain's frown when he had looked at her but attributed it to her own sour look and chosen to ignore it, especially since he had not addressed what had not pleased him about her attire. Then she had listened, all unobtrusive silence to the confusing account like her superior, not pretending to understand more of the matter than the Prince. At Samwell's announcement that she will accompany him to Lord Lohstren she inclines her head, before she shoots Gauvain and the Sollinger lady an inquiring glance.

Gauvain nods to his Prince. "I should. He is my Liege Lord, I imagine he would take it as an insult if I did not at least give a cursory visit." He rolls a shoulder and nods again. "Shall I have my Squire fetch you a Horse Lady Sollinger?" He nods to the other Knight and gives a friendly nod. She didn't have her hair in a braid. "I am starting to think my lovely Daughter and Squire do not have enough chores…."

Claire may not necessarily care or believe that it really will be read. Not that it entirely matters. "I am not expected, but if he does not mind? I would need a few moments to change and become properly attired for such a visit." Which may give them all the time that they require to speak - without her presence. Still undecided, it seems about this particular company. "If you will excuse me, of course?"

"Of course, Mylady.", Samwell nods to the Sollinger woman, then looks at Gauvain. "Where is Sir Jaren? I am sure he could throw some light on this odd incident." The Prince reaches out for his sword belt to gird himself, then steps out of the tent into the bright morning, squinting against the sun.

Gauvain gestured toward Lohstren's castle. "He's there my Lord. In the Castle. He went to make sure the Castle was ready for your arrival Your Grace." He shrugs a shoulder. "I'm sure he can clear things up once we find him there."

Deidra follows the Prince out of the tent, lifting her hand to shield her steely green eyes against the sun light. As soon as she has adjusted to the bright morning, the Blue Guard lets her gaze wander over the camp site, checking for anything unusual. "I would be interested what he has to say on the matter," she remarks to Samwell's remark about Sir Jaren, her hand resting on the pommel of the sword in her usual routine of always being prepared for the unexpected.

"It was … Inconvient for the Murderer to die." Gauvain says evenly. He looks again at Sir Deidra, and offers her a little bow. "Sir. I forgot myself for a long moment. I beg your forgiveness. I am Sir Gauvain Tarris, vassel to the Lohstren." He nods to the woman and idly taps the pommel of his own sword, more a piece of habbit than being prepared or anything. Though the fingers do play with the favor wrapped on the hilt, catching a bit of breeze and flapping slightly.

The Knight spies the young girl he KNEW would be out and near the tent. "Bethany! Damn you girl! I said ready the Bloody Flaming Horses!"

The Girl hops off a barrel she had been sitting in. Wearing her maile easy enough. "Done Father. And you should watch your mouth in front of the Prince. Frandmother would be APPALED sir." She takes a bite from an apple and lowers herself into a graceful curtsey. Using the cloak she has in place of the ends of a dress. "Your Grace. By your leave, I will fetch my Lord Father's horse." She says toward Samwell as if to silently tell her father: See? I know how to act in front of Royalty.

Gauvain looks as if he's about to pop a vein.

"Sir Deidra… Delmort.", the Blue Guard introduces herself, the hint of a smile playing across her features, as she sees herself being addressed with a politeness that might have surprised her. "Of the Blue Guard.", she adds, although that must have already been obvious, but nevermind. The girl squire gets a glance and a smile even. "This is your daughter, Sir? How unusual to see a girl reprimand her own father and knight before all and sundry."

Apparently the girl's outspokenness does meet Sam's approval, for the prince gives Bethany a warm smile, nodding to her as she goes to fetch the horse. "She's rather delightful, Sir.", he comments to Gauvain… so he might better lock her up.

With time of the essence, Claire may have left the tent with a quick stride but her return is delayed. If nothing else because it does take time for her to become presentable. While keeping her hair in its upbraided affair, the gown is more of a silver set this time with the trim so dark of a forest green to nearly be black. But present, clean and scented lightly with something akin to florals, the noblewoman is far from striding at full speed. It's not suitable, when appearing as such. Instead with a glance to one side for the accompaniment of her maid, even she's taken time to be presentable.

Shooting a look to Samwell and then Bethany as the girl blushes at being addressed by THE Prince, Gauvain clears his throat as the girl runs off, choosing to not remind her father of what she just did. He looks over to the other knight and says evenly, "She… Acts quite a bit like my sister at her age." He says to both Deidra and Samwell. He sighs.

"Girls, eh.", Samwell grins at Gauvain, "I have sisters, I know what it's like. My sister may be heir to the realm, but that doesn't stop her from making bad decisions." For some reason he glares at Claire when the woman approaches, then clears his throat and looks to Deidra. "Well, let us ride! It may be a royal prerogative to keep people waiting, but I don't wish to draw Lord Losthren's ire…"

Once the Horse is brought to him, the big knight swings into Strider's saddle. The big Black, and surly Warhorse prances a little, as if showing off. Gauvain sighs contently. Pleased to be in a saddle and he nods to Samwell. "After you, your Grace." He says with an easy smile.

"Certainly, Commander Sir." Deidra grins as she moves swiftly towards the horses that have already prepared for their ride. "And you are a Taniford Prince. You can surely afford to be a little late, your highness." She chuckles with mild amusement at Samwell's concern as she mounts her steed, reigning it in as it starts to prance a bit. Her steely green gaze brushes the Sollinger lady and she looks from Claire to Samwell a bit undecidedly. "Do you want to wait for her ladyship to join us, my prince?" Gauvain's steed gets a short inspection and an approving nod. "Nice horse you have there, Sir Gauvain."

Regarding the entire gathering under an objective eye once near enough while the horses being led beside her, Claire signals for the guard beside her to halt before moving to mount with the assistance given by the older man. Murmuring words between the two, it may be more of reassurances. Taking up the reins after pulling the cloak about her shoulders more securely, the approach may be tinged with just a hint of 'rushing' - given the mare's slightly increased pace. She may have noted the movement of the heads, but not necessarily the discussion. If evident by her words, "Not too late, are we, Your Highness?"

Samwell mounts as well, the last one of their group to do so and immediately moves to lead the group. "You are perfectly on time.", he assures Claire and nudges his horse onward to a jaunty pace as they leave the field where they have set up their encampment and move on to the road to the castle. "I expect Lord Losthren to invite me to stay up at the castle.", he explains as they ride, "I shall ask for a room for you too, Lady Claire."

Gauvain rides in silence behind Samwell. His eyes scanning the countryside as he goes. There was after all a murder not to long ago, and that doesn't exactly speak well for the intelligence of the locals. He does admire the horses of the knight Beidra and Samwell's own as well.

Claire nudges her mare ahead just enough for speaking distance but still behind the prince's horse to glance alongside to Gauvain and back with the faintest hints of a smile. "Thank you, Your Highness. Are you and your expecting to remain here for some time," she asks, taking time to lift one hand to shield her gaze from the sun's glare. If only for a moment.

"I expect so, Mylady.", Samwell replies, "I plan to inspect the defenses along the border… and most of these are within riding distance from Estermarch. Lord Losthren will certainly be able to tell us more about that. It seems only right that a lady sleeps within the protective walls of a castle. Don't you agree, Sir Gauvain?", he asks the other man.

Gauvain nods his head to Samwell. "Aye your Grace." He says glancing about the area around him. "A lady should be able to sleep in a nice feather bed, with strong walls around her to keep the Autumn chill from her." He shrugs a shoulder and looks to Claire. "I've seen you in the camp My Lady. I believe you could tough it out with the soldiers. But I also see you have a nice dress. So I'm pretty certain where your desire lies."

"Practicality," Claire begins with a slightly higher tilt to her chin as she replies to Gauvain first. "Is a necessity if one is going to be traipsing about the countryside or sailing the seas in a ship. I do hope that you are not questioning my skill, Sir. But I am not one to refuse hospitality when offered," she counters neatly with the faintest hint of a smile towards the prince. "Have you given any thought as to having a healer within your ranks for this trip?" Since, at the moment, she still seems to be more of a guest than addition. "It seems to be quite useful, given that has happened thus far."

"You shall sleep within the castle walls as befits your station, Mylady.", Samwell says and his tone sounds final, "I won't have it said that I'm not treating a Sollinger properly." He smiles faintly at the woman and nods. "If you feel like some adventure and nobody is upset about your absence, why not, Mylady? We could certainly use your skills. But what will your husband say?"

(Maybe someone can add the following poses, as this is all I have)

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