The Knight's Journal

The Knight's Journal
Summary: The journal of Sir Wesson is discovered, and nearly sets off a war.
Date: 22 June 2013
Related: The Taniford Traveller
Bryony Coriaria Dalyros Jerric Tylon 

Open Field Near Laketown
An open field and a road on the way south from Laketown to Taniford.
23 June 1329

At least a couple of people have pulled the dead from last night into a line. Dressed in their armor still, there are four bandits in various colored leathers and piece mail armor, and one Taniford Knight, dressed in his armor.

Bryony remains near the tents, away from the dead. While she has helped attend to Prince Jerric, most of her time has been spent tending to Stefan as she is in his employ. At the moment, she seems to be grabbing a breath of air and something to drink.

News of death ain and around Laketown was bound to reach the Temple sooner or later, and thus out to the field comes the Temple Priestess. The dead, no matter what deeds commited in life, did deserve their last rights to be given and send their souls along the way to be judged and sorted by the guardians. Simply making her way towards the non-living to see to the particular duty, Tylon does have a pair of Chosen trailing after in her shadow.

The dead are dead. There isn't much to pose other thna that. They are in state, the bandits lie there. And the knight has his hands folded over his sword, in a state of honor.

Bryony watches the priestess roll in with her followers. A sober expression finds her already weary face. She takes a sip from her cup, hazel eyes studying the group. For a moment she closes her eyes, adding her own prayer to the rites being given to those who have passed. Beyond that, the apothecary takes care to stay out of the way, letting the priestess do her duty. She does, however, 'encourage' a bit of food preparation for when the group is done.

Not wishing to disturb the living to greatly, the Priestess, does keep her hood down….so not going to chance being mistaken as a harpy pretending to be a servant of the Temple. The simple rites and blessings are given over each of the bandits in turn. But when Tylon comes upon the Knight, she blinks and settles closer, a hand moving to quickly wash away a bit of drift on the dead Knight's face and then blinks again,"By Stilltha, I thought he'd never be seen again. By the Guardians…how did he get here."

Yes, Tylon recognizes this Knight. When last she saw this paticular Taniford Knight, he had been in the clutches (willingly) of a Harpy. But now that he's dead, he can't explain how he got here. Or can he? His messenger bag is missing, that clue of clues that may explain much.

Bryony cannot help but notice the odd moment in the rites. Her expression is thoughtful for a heartbeat or two before she finds a sigh. "I am going to regret this," she precicts ruefully as she leaves those at the tents to approach the holy group. There is ground to cover, so it's unlikely she'll go unnoticed between three of them.

At the simple thought of the harpy, one of Tylona's hands absently presses to her chest. it simply aches at the thought of the beasties. It is but a passing moment and the priestess shifts to look over the Knight in more detail, missing injuries and yes, those taken had seemed more than willing. And yet he is here, and dead. Tylon shakes her head, what happened after he left a camp, simply a mystery to be fathomed. Unable to have known there was a bag that went missing.

If Tylon notices the approcing woman, it is an unknown, as she simply proceeds with giving the man's those last rites to speed his soul on. However, the Chosen who have accompanied her do quite notice. Simply watching and keeping alert, poised to act if need be. Simply calling when Bryony comes near enough,"Can we aid you with something?"

Bryony pauses a few yards away and inclines her head in greeting to the Chosen that speaks. "I do not mean to disturb. Forgive me, I pray you. In truth, I wished to see if I could be of help." Hazel eyes shift to the priestess briefly. "It has been ten years since I wandered the halls of the Temple as their charge, but I still recall some of the ways," she murmurs softly.

The Chosen inclines his head to the woman as the other glances towards Tylon as she works over the Knight in the process of preparing the rite for the fallen man. the ever calm woman does speak up, with out so much as giving a glance up. "Help is always apprecaited, I do not need much, though if you would not mind to stay and help to send the soul along when I complete the rite. I find it a more comforting thought in ways when there is someone else to give pause and care for the moving of the soul." Tylon does pause a moment before she asks,"Do you know if there is plan for them? I was only called for to give rites. But we would gladly see that any family is reached." Among other not entirely pleasant taskings.

From the pavilion that had been set up for the Rhaedan in the field, there comes voice. A female's "But, but your Highness, I was told to keep you in your bed…" Then comes the unmistakable voice of Jerric's, although not as strong as is his normal, "Leave me be, I am getting up!." And lo, with out his armor, a bandage about his head comes the Crown Prince out of the pavilion. His steps a bit shakey and he has to grab onto one of the poles that props up the pavilion to steady himself.

Bryony approaches once Tylon gives her acceptance. "Of course. I would be happy to stay." Teeth worry at her lower lip briefly as she ponders the last. "Truth to tell, I do not know. We shall ask after their bodies once their souls have been taken care of." Her back to the pavillion means that Jeric is lucky. For now.

As Bryony approaches, one Chosen take to keeping an eye upon her and the dead as the other keeps watch out for any others approaching, the pair seeming more vigilent than has perhaps been normal when the Priestess has been out and about in just the Laketown area.

"The Knight is familiar to me," comes Tylon's notation on the matter. Explainiang further,"He was lifted from amongst the injured and recovering after the recent….battle." There have only been one of those lately, right? "I had not expected we would ever see of him again. Can you tell me of how your party came upon him?" Ever respectifully does she shift the Knight's armor or cloak, this or that way as she takes more care in preparing him for the rite.

Speaking to one of the guards at the entrance Jerric grins as the words come "Well. Look at that. A dead Taniford Knight. Not a sight I would get to tired of seeing. Maybe I should go over there and offer my condolences." The last causes a chuckle and a grimace as a hand reaches for the side of his head. "Ok, no laughing." And with that he moves slowly, even unsteadily over to where the others have gathered. The slightest of nods, another grimace to the Priestess Tylon and a smile is given to Bryony. "Well he looks done. Anyone check him over to see if he was carrying anything?" Then he seems to remember who is present "I'm sorry, Priestess. Sometimes I speak with out thinking of who might be around." Yea, he looks sorry. Not.

Dalyros is standing near the tent that has been setup for Princess Fayre, who is inside sleeping or fixing her hair, or whatever Princesses do when the sit in tents. Dalyros is talking to another man of the Princess' entourage. He overhears the northern Prince, his brow furrowing as his eyes narrow on the man. "How dare you disrespect the dead. This was a good man." He motions toward the Knight, "I served with Sir Wesson. I know not of a northern man who could have held a candle next to his honour." He crosses his arms, defiantly, as he watches the disrespectful Prince.

Ah, the young. They are so easily distracted sometimes. "Oh!" Cricket coughs from where she's seated, gaze riveted to a small journal in her hands, "Oh… oh MY!" She didn't know /that/ was physically possible. Is she even holding the journal correctly? Is that sketch even anatomically accurate?! Good thing nobody will be looking for this little treasure, lifted from poor Sir Wesson along with the letter that made its way into the possession of Fayre. Goodness, but that parcel had been informative! "AGH," the girl cringes, one of the scrawled descriptors below a sketch causing her to blush even more furiously than before, "By the Four, that's….nooooo…" A hand flies to her eyes, though soon enough she's peeking through her own fingers, unable to look away. Must /not/ let anyone else find this journal. Must use for… scientific purposes. Aye, that's it!

The Chosen both give bows to the Prince, just to the barest depth that yet remains repsectful and yet only after giving a glance to the Priestess who has to give them an incline of her head to get them to do so. For her part, Tylon bows her head to the Prince, hard to do much else while settled down near the body of a dead man.

Giving the Prince a smiple glance with the words he speaks before she goes back to preparing the body, which in some way does require a midly search as everything is set just so. "I beleive the time as past for anyone to rifle through his body for anything worth stealing or looting, Your Highness. Most do see to that before calling for Rites to be given." Ever so calmly and simply noting that as well as what follows,"I believe one might be more concerned by the fact the last time this man was seen he was being carried off by a harpy. And they were quite interested in the Duke at the time, I imagine they would find a Prince more appealing than a Duke. "

Bryony's eyes nearly pop out of her head as Jerric joins the group. A withering glance is sent towards his pavilion. Someone is going to get it. Still, she remembers to curtsy before hissing, "What are you doing here? You should be ab-" And then it begins. Jerric's cavalier attitude towards the southener's death and Dalyros's prickly defense earn an impatient sigh from the herbalist. "He said it without thought. He *does* have a concussion," she explains to the southern knight. "Perhaps we could all stand quietly a moment so that we might make certain his soul is sent off properly and without the indignity of squabbling?" And though he's a prince, she does not hesitate to give Jerric a pointed look.

Jerric looks down to the dead man, then to the Notherners and lastly to himself "Yea, I can see that. Us weak Rhaedan are standing and he is what?" He looks down at the dead man before cutting his eyes to the Southerner "Sleeping?" A smirk fixes upon the Prince before he turns to the reading Coriaria "What have we there? Good reading?"

"All the same, Priestess, perhaps it would be good to see what he has. Those bandits seemed to be wanting more than his meager coin and who would want such weapons as what he carried?"

"I shouild be where?" Jerric asks Bryony. "Oh yes, with out thought. Concussion and all that stuff." Again comes that self assured smirk of his. The slightest nod of his head to the healer, hands clasped infront of him, head slightly down, but that smirk remains.

Dalyros continues eyeing the Prince for a moment, then is distracted by the reasoning from the Priestess. He shrugs once. Damn fool of a Prince. Dalyros won't waste his time with this disrespectful northern scum. He does, however, notice Coriaria sitting with the journal. When the Prince mentions the 'reading' the Blue Guard of Taniford takes a closer examination of the situation. Then, with several long strides and quick steps, the Knight is standing right next to Coriaria, looking down upon her, "What is that Journal? Did it belong to Sir Wesson?" He peers down at the book, "Is that a Taniford seal?" He interrogates further.

Hmm, but it's /warm/ this morning! Cricket tugs absently at the neckline of her tunic, wondering how everything has suddenly become so… uncomfortable. "Poor soul," she murmurs through the smirk firmly plastered onto her features, "Died a happy man, I wager." So engrossed is she in the lurid account that she's unaware if anyone may be watching. The blush spreads all the way down her neck now. On second thought, there's a certain Ravas acolyte she'd like to test these… theories with. If only Alyona would be more cooperative in helping with such matters! "I… I say…" and another flip of the page, another turning of the small book to be sure she's looking at it right-side-up.

Dalyros' arrival is met with a reaction as if her ass were on fire. She shoots straight up from where she's seated, snapping the journal shut and blushing even /more/. "What?!" Cricket asks, finding her throat rather dry, "Can I… help you?"

"Bandits could and often do care for taking such weapons and lesser things, depending on their desperation and need, they will go for anything they can turn into a quick coin, Your Highness. " It is a thing that is noted in the same calm and simple tone Tylon has used to speak every other word. "Though it does seem that someone has perhaps already seen to the searching of him, perhaps you should inquire further with Lady Westmark on the matter." A faint glance sent towards her 'neice' before shaking her head a little and going through the last preparatins for the rites over the Knight.

"Without thought," Bryony echoes dourly. "You should be abed, unless you are planning on joining these few all too soon. At the very least you should be sitting. I know how difficult it is, your Grace, but you'll serve no one if you drop from a sudden brain hemorrhage…" She keeps all of her words pitched low out of respect for the dead and Jerric's position. Her jaw, however, is set stubbornly and there is irritation in her countenance. Hazel eyes dart towards Cori but return to the priestess. She did say she would help and remain.

"It could be a Taniford sigil. But it was rescued by the Rhaedan's," Jerris tells the Taniford. "For now it will remain with in the hands of a Rhaedan." There, done. He turns back to the Priestess "Something tells me these bandits were not after such things, but again that could be due to the slight bump on the head I took." It is next to Bryony he turns "The magic you performed has given me such strength, My Lady, that I just had to get up. For that I am most thankful." Yep, straight of face, even if it is very pale at the moment, "But perhaps a seat would be welcomed."

Dalyros looks toward the Prince, and shakes his head, "Nay. It is a Taniford journal, and it shall be returned. NOW!" He doesn't seem to care for the northern Prince's assessment, as his gaze goes to Coriaria, "Hand it over." He says, his eyes narrowing on her, as he holds his hand out. He doesn't seem to concerned with the Prince, who he could slap in the head right now and possibly kill.

As Dalyros starts to make his demands and that withering look at the Crown Prince, one of the Royal Guards rises. "You are speaking to the Rhaedan Crown Prince on neutral ground, dog. You are but a speck of dried seed on the crack of your whore of a mother. You will stand down and back off, or we will tend to you, boy." The knight, in his late 40s, gestures to the other guards, as they start to rise to their feet as well.

"Nooooo," Cricket counters, stepping back and clutching the journal tightly to her chest, "It's nothing. I…" Guardians /forbid/ that anyone see what she's been scorching her eyes with for the past hour! Suddenly seized by an irrational fear of her dirty thoughts being found out, she puts some distance between herself and Dalyros, hoping the Knight takes the hint and leaves her alone. Oh, good thing one of the guards is insulting him! That'll get his mind off the little book right quick. Go argue with the guard.

Seeing the commotion, a group of southern Knights as well as another Blue Guard in his late forties, moves toward the incident as well, stepping up behind Dalyros. The young southern Knight reaches to the hilt of his blade, sliding it about an inch from its scabbard, leaving the rest of the blade hidden, for now. "This…" he glances toward Coriaria, examining her a moment. Lady? "…/lady/ has looted the body of my man. She has stolen property that belongs to the royal family of Taniford. I mean to have it back." He is firm in his wording, as he watches the men approaching him. "We do not wish incident with you, but should it come to arms, I assure you, we are ready. After all, we weren't picked apart by a small group of bandits. We are in full health and numbers." He glances toward the Prince, a brow raising in his direction, "Lest you wish for an incident over a dead Knights journal?"

"Mistress," Bryony corrects Jeric. "And it is to the healer that you owe your thanks. Your brother gives me coin in exchange for my services. Thanks are not required. Following instructions, however…" Her gaze flickers again towards Cori and Dalyros. "Yes… a fine and noble knight lies dead at our feet and we honor him by screaming over the sending of his soul…" Her head tilts slightly and she leans closer to Jerric, her voice lowering so that only his ears can hear her as everything escalates.

"I can only offer speculation and observation on the nature of bandits in general, Your Highness, not having been here for what was surely a fine fight." The ever calm Priestess simply going about the task at hand and letting the nobles and their company take to squabbling as they so often do. Though there is a faint glance to the pair of Chosen who chose to step in closer and keep an eye upon the growing tention. Given what she heard Sister Alyona tell them…. Tylon just shares her head and begins to speak the soft prayer over the Knight, seeking to guide his soul onwards.

"Lady Westmark is the heir of the Barony." The Royal Guard says as he gestures to his men and they position themselves between the Tanifords, Dalyros, and Coriaria, seperating her from them. "It will be noted that you are the ones drawing blades and threatening blood. And while we dealt with bandits, we are far fresher than you realize. If you attack Lady Westmark, you attack Rhaedan. Do you think your Queen or Princess Fayre would wish such blood on her hands?" he asks and grins subtly. "Or you can let the girl keep her book and walk away to your wedding and party. And live to fight another day. Your choice."

A snap of his fingers as his eyes remain fixed on the Southerner "Sword, armor," Jerric calls. "A fine Knight, threatening a Lady of the North and drawing his sword as he does so. The South must surely be proud." A quick glance is given as he sees men bringing out his armor and sword.

Then as Bryony speaks he nods "Well since it was the North that came to the man's rescue perhaps we should share what was found for the man was chased by bandits and they wanted what he had. It is yours but since we fought for him we reserve the right to view what he carried and what was wanted by these bandits.

He looks to the Priestess "I would be honored to hear your thoughts, Mother."

All the while his men have brought forth the armor and it is being slipped onto the Prince.

Dalyros pushes his sword back into the scabbard. He eyes the retreating lady, then to the Prince. "Very well, but should the Lady attempt to return to the north with that book, we will stop her, whatever it takes." He warns, "I do not serve you, nor your King. I serve Taniford." He says nothing more, before spitting at the feet of the approaching men-at-arms. The Knight then turns toward the tent of the southern Princess, remaining silent. He moves to a tree, leaning against it, he begins to relieve himself.

As Dalyros wanders off to relieve himself, the Royal Guard laughs. "Make sure you're not holding a pube instead!" he calls out after the boy of a knight as the incident seems to break down.

After the soft prayer is said and the rites given over the Knight, inspite of the crazy people who have no respect for the fallen, Tylon finally looks up to address the question directed her way by the Prince. "It is customary that the belonging of the desceased are given over to the family of the deceased, however," a glance goes in the direction of her 'niece' and the trouble that seems to have been stirred up,"as it seems there is some disbute over what he may have carried, simply, it seemes because it was of interest to bandits. I would recommend that a memeber from each party take in the artifact at the same time. That way both learn of what was carried at the same time. If it is of interest to both to hold as their own, and neither agrees," when ever do they," I would suggest a neuttral party that both are comfortable with hold on to it until way that both sides agree to can be taken up to decide whom shall walk away with the item. "

"Sword and armor for one of your knights, you mean," Bryony asserts, her gaze lifting to the prince's face with concern. "Your Grace, do not do this… It is known you are wounded and the nature of the injury is not difficult to discern. One who lacks honor might attempt to goad you into a fight simply to take advantage of that weakness. It is a risk that you owe to your people *not* to take…" Of course, the plea is unnecessary as Dalyros stands down. The woman eases somewhat and nods at Tylon's suggestion, smiling a little.

It's always so nice when the Rhaedans and Tanifords get together. Nice in that terribly akward family reunion way, where the drunk uncle is screaming at one of his daughters about her slutty habits, and the unmarried aunt is weeping in the bathroom because the 18th person just asked her when she's getting married. Oh, and there are dead bodies all around. Musn't forget the dead bodies. As it seems the situation has been defused, Cricket chances a frown at Dalyros' retreating form, none too happy with his threats of the Southerners chasing her to the border. "It's just a /book/," she grumbles, "Why must men like him always be so ready to commit violence over some small piece of property or other?"

With each bit of armor placed upon him, Jerric seems to grow a bit paler. Beads of sweat form just at the bandage line. One of the men look at the bandage and the helmet trying to figure out how to make that work. As the Southern man leaves there is a flash of relief from Jerric. As he listens to the Priestess "I have a solution. Mother, if you would take the items to the temple, keep it safe there we all can come and view it in the confines of the Temple where no bloodshed would be allowed. I ask this of you to help keep the peace. Would you be so kind to do so?"

As Jerric waits for the answer he hears Bryony and looks to her "Wise words Mistress. I stall do as you ask."

"A book that may tell us much. But if you would give it to the Priestess and peace will be assured."

Bryony looks to Jerric's man and motions towards the armor. "Get him out of it and onto a chair. Water. No spirits. Not yet. No matter what he says. And he'll need something to eat. You are going to need your rest if you are going to be in any condition to attend this wedding, your grace. I fear I must insist."

Loath as Cricket is to part with the volume, it cannot be helped. Soon enough everyone will know what is contained therein. "Mother Superior," she sighs, shuffling to Tylon and trying not to look rueful about the whole incident, "It… it was with the letter I found. But I did hand the letter over last night, to that nasty fellow who threatened me just now." She scowls and extends the journal to the priestess, imagining how nice it would be to run Dalyros through with her own blade or perhaps feed him — piece by little piece — to one of the bog crocs, enjoying his screams all the while. "I did not mean to cause any trouble. He gave me a fright."

The book is simply tucked into Tylon's robes after it is handed over. The fold of material simply eatting the thing, gulp and it is gone. "Thank you, Cricket. And there was nothing more than this and the letter you found upon the body?" Double checking with the Westmark Lady. Giving a soft smile to the girl,"I am sure you did not, emotions do have a way of running high in these days. " Turning back to the Prince a moment,"I will keep it safe, and will only provide it when a representative of both parties are present. "

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