By Right or Pride?

By Pride or Right
Summary: Alek, Victricia, Sammel and Bryony meet, with the help of meddling. Clear lines are drawn! Was Sir Sammel upset by right? Or merely pride, before his feathers were smoothed.
Date: 21/07/2012
Related: If there are no related logs, put 'None' — please, don't leave blank!)
Players:
Victricia Sammel Alek Bryony 

Laketown - Laketown
Laketown is a series of dichotomies laid out in the open. Grand cobbled stone boulevards feed into winding and cramped dusty alleyways and muddy side roads. The shimmering gleaming halls of polished stone that the merchants, guildmasters, local gentry, and nobles have built hide the dilapidated and grimy hovels and dirt and mud that seems to pervasively linger in a town always under construction. Even at night, the beating heart of the Laketown market square is filled with spectacles and merchants and the constant flow of money, although not always between buyers and sellers. All roads lead to the gold and marble pillars and bright cobalt tile roofing of the Blue Duck Inn, the unofficial hub of the business in Laketown set just across the way from the large, glittering temple.

The town tapers towards the Deep Woods and Wolveshire to the south, the fertile Open Field to the west, Brivey Keep to the Northwest, and the expansive Docks to the east. Laketown never sleeps, the constant clang of blacksmiths, shouting merchants, and the thunder of heavy carts constantly moving about town.

Sun Jul 21, 1329

"Fair cause for celebration I think," Tricia remarked to the guard at her side; a figure of rigid stature, with a face as scruffy as his general disposition. He stood comfortable, at rest outside the Blue Duck in, with a sword on his side and other, perhaps oddly, on his back. The latter wasn't his. /It/ belonged to the Lady with whom he was speaking, for all that it wasn't worn by her on account of clashing with her attire. "Though I hear that Riedel brother was quick enough to fall on his own lance early on. Did you see?" Apparently she hadn't, but Tricia traded gossip the way bees traded pollen, eventually there'd be a grain of truth inside each little nugget. "I think Gilly needs that rear hoof checked though, she's acting like the shoe's coming loose."

The weeks long circus and tournament was slowly winding down. Some were already packing up to head out of Laketown, wanting to get out before the 'rush', others were yet basking in the ability to be somewhere other than where they normally were. And of course there were those running around for those last minute details for the upcoming party that would truly close out the weeks festivities. And amongst all of that hustle and bustle walked a Knight dressed within the colors of Westmark, the House he served. For some it would simply be the colors that are noticed, a few others, especially after the Joust, it was the face that would get noticed as Sir Alek 'the Pretty'. A bag slung over a shoulder as he headed back towards the inn, no doubt upon another errand of some kind for the newly minted Baroness of Westmark.

Sir Sammel Reidel, heir to the Brivey, looked to all outwards appearences to have gotten over the temper he'd shown on the tourney field the other day. There was an easy and charismatic smile on his lips, and his pale blue eyes did not flare with barely contained wrath anymore. He was making use of the concentration of tradesfolk that every joust attracted, walking through the busy market with his coin purse at the ready as he made various small purchases. Some practical; a new belt, some armoring oil that might work better than the one his squire was already using. Some frivilous; trinkets for family back home. He never bartered himself; that was the job of his grizzled arms man companion, who could scowl and haggle and growl at the merchants without it being beneath his honor and station. Gradually they were working their way towards the Blue Duck.

From the east comes a woman in blue with a young man in tow. Her pace is not leisurely but not so quick as to give him difficulty in keeping up with her. He carries a crate for the healer, his attire indicating him to be an apprentice of the healer's guild. "I know that Master Gilfoy does seem difficult to understand at times, and the spitting is… terrible. But you must listen to him," she instructs with a wry grin. "His knowledge is vast. Ask questions. He likes that. Mistress Drue, on the other hand, wants complete silence. It's frustrating to no end, admittedly…" And so it continues as they make their way to the Duck. Bryony runs through the roster of the masters of the guild with the poor lad taking mental note and nodding frantically while his face reddens from the strain of carrying her crate.

Settling into content conversation, the lady reclines beneath the shade of the awning with a glass of wine in her hand, making conversation where there is none and marking faces well enough. "Do you suppose anyone's seen my brother about?" This last question earns the tall blond a flat look a casual shrug of a single shoulder, as if keeping up with that particular task was beneath him and more, unworthy of being looked into. "Oh fine, be that—-oh look, isn't that yesterday's champion?" Really, what /had/ she been doing to miss it? 'Couldn't say, milady.' "Useless man." 'Entirely, milady.' With a roll of her eyes and a grin Tricia reached for the small coin purse at her side and began rummaging through it's depths, though the timing seemed almost absolutely impeccable that it's contents upended and coppers went a'scattering as Ser Alek approached, while the oh so eloquent, "Damnation," littered the air. "Now look what I've managed." Poutyface.

Even if used to the bogs and marshes of the Westmark lands and thus to keeping company with bog crocs and Corsiars, not so much keeping company as it with the later. What one means to infer is that despite all the impressions one might get about one coming out of a place like that and serving those he does, Sir Alek actually seems to have some form of manners, for even as he'd caught the sound of Bryony's voice and was slowing up as the Inn was reached, there was the sound of coins raining down upon the ground and that feminine voice exclaiming about it. thusly, Alek does offer a respectful bow to the lady with one of his charming smiles,"Here, let me help with that, m'Lady." Moving to assist in picking up a few of the coins, deflecting a street 'rat' alredy trying to flich one.

"Once you have finished your apprentice training you will have more duties assigned to you, some of which will pay," Bryony explains, her gaze darting towards the lad briefly to make sure he's still paying attention. "You'll be making enough to pay your own dues then but I will help where I ca-are you sure you don't wish help with that?" The healer reaches out to take a corner and some of the weight, wanting to help. Male pride, however, causes him to step to one side, jerking away rather hard and sending crate corner and elbow into the body of an unwitting shopper.

The last purchase came accomponied with a lengthy tug-of-war between a bleeding heart merchant with too many children to feed, and Sammel's armsman who could find everything and anything wrong with any piece of merchandice put infront of him. Once or twice the merchant sent what must have been a pleading look in his direction; surely a noble was above petty verbal battery of honest traders? Which he was. Which was why he was completely indifferent to any such looks, and infact made a vague gesture to his armsman to finish up in his own time while Sammel himself continued on. His long frame moved with all the time in the world, an unhurried glide through the crowds. With his hand lazily resting on the pommel of his sword, he didn't have to badger anyone to get a free path. It was only out of the corner of his eye that he caught the coin slip, and yesterday's champion playing at knightly assistance. With a quiet snort to himself, he began to approach.. only to be caught out cold. Bump. What had been a lazy fondle of his sword's hilt became a firm grip in a split second, muscles coiled to spring - and draw the sword with it free. Earlier smiles gone. Cold temper in his eyes as he stared daggers at the peasent who -dared- knock him about!

"Oh yes please," Victricia murmurs, crouching in a pool of black and gold and purple, to collect the scattered assortment. "I'd be ever so grateful." With a straight face, she said that too. "Oh my, wait..now aren't you the gentlemen who slew the competition yesterday in the festivities?" Her perch here, makes it easier to watch both the knight and the rest of the crowd; so the apprentice bumbling caught her eye and a chuckle was hidden against the curve of her shoulder. That turn of her head, however, made the subject of prior gossip rise up to her attention as if…oh. "My goodness," Tricia whispered in Alek's direction, "He really does have a temper on him, doesn't he?"

Nodding his head just once before Alek answers,"Yes, I did win the joust yesterday. It seemed the guardians favoured me yesterday, m'Lady. " An easy and ever charming smile offered, the closer space allwoing Victricia to note that thin scar that does touch across the pretty Knight's cheek. Even the pretty can't always come through unscathed. "Had you a favorite you hoped to win yesterday?" Glvoed fingers yet nimbly picking up the various coins before a handful of them are offered back over to her. The drawing of the woman's attention else where does have Alek giving a look to him her whisper speaks. "Yes, it would seem he does. " Pale blue eyes do squint just a little, watching a few moments in seeing Bryony so near the ill-temper one.

Bryony reaches out to catch her young charge. He's just hitting his teens and seems to be awkward and a little on the gangly side. Grabbing for his elbow, she manages to keep him from falling completely and, even more fortunate, his cargo remains firmly in hand. Looking up, her hazel eyes widen at the sight of the enraged Riedel knight. "He did not mean insult… my lord, Sir…" One day she'll figure out how to actually give proper title. "It was my fault. I pray you- Riedel…" As the healer tugs the boy to straightened posture, she grins broadly, all fear of retribution and punishment gone. "I have had the pleasure of meeting Sir Koll. The Hammer, I believe he is called… For his weapon. So I'm told…"

Sammel's laughter was fierce and loud, and it could have been pleasent if there hadn't been such a harsh edge lurking in the depths of his melodious voice. His fingers slowly released their grip of the sword at his side as he took in both the gangly youth and the woman there at his side to intercept. Meanwhile his man at arms and squire had both lost their interest in haggling. The former was a mean looking brute, the sort of thug a noble might keep around to avoid getting dirty himself, and the latter a youth much like the unfortunate soul whose lack of grace had caught Sammel's attentions in the first place. The two men hovered.
The laugh ended as abruptly as it had began. The silence that followed was omnious. "Did I address you, woman? If he meant no insult, he can say so himself. Not that it excuses acting like he owns the street. Do you own the street, boy?" The mention of Koll swung Sammel's head back in Bryony's direction. Harsh squint. "And what is your relations to my kinsman that you would bring his name up?" And, added, incase it wasn't clear: "*Now* you can speak."

"A favorite?" My goodness, he was a handsome devil, wasn't he? "Would you believe me if I said that it was you?" Tricia teased, accepting the coins return and adding them with the rest once more to her purse. "A book most certainly not to be judged by his cover, I would say," she complimented; casting a final look around to see that all the coins were returned before she pushes upwards to her feet. Sharp ears caught a few words that carried, while narrowed eyes took in both posture and stance, before the woman hooked the coin purse back to her side and fisted a hand into her skirts, so that they didn't drag when she started off in the pairs direction. Murmuring as an aside to Alek as she went, "Perhaps, we should join them?"
Though his acceptance of her suggestion, she didn't wait to see and instead with those long legs easily eating up the ground crossed the distance, "Sir Riedel!" Tricia's voice flowed to carry, warm and inviting and at odds to the temper he displayed, "My goodness, it seems you grow more handsome yet, with each time our paths may cross. Surely, there might be some smile in you for my company and I beg, you take favor in it, instead of…," harassing and accosting, you pompous ass, "wasting it on these poor souls. Prince Jerric was speaking such high praises of you to me only earlier this very day!"

Alek chuckles at the answer with a shake of his head and sending his dark blonde hair scatting just a bit,"I fear I likely would not. I have nt spent much time at tournament to be known well enough for many to have pegged me a favorite to win." And those in Westmark lands aren't known for…conventional tactics. Inclining his head a touch as he rises back to his feet as well with the coins once again properly returned to the lady's coin purse,"I common saying, I am told, but one that does ring of truth, m'lady."

A simple nod has Alek stepping along with the Auldholme Lady, a slight murmur,"I do believe it might be for the best, Mistress Bryony has bitten off more than she can chew once again." Ever knowinghis place in the world, he is more than happy to allow Victricia to engage the ill-tempered Sammel, simply offering the man a respectful bow of his head. Though he is soon sending a look to Bryony, a glance towards the gangly youth to Sammel and then back to Bryony,"Enjoying your time in Laketown I see, Mistress Bryony."

Those who know the healer know her to be warm and genial. However, as Sammel's ire fails to fade and his intent on making things difficult becomes clear, a coolness settles over Bryony. The woman straightens and pats the boy on his shoulder. "Go on, now. Take the crate to the Rhaedan pavilion and tell the servants to put it with my things, Gavin." The woman attempts to get the boy away from the scene before answering the noble (no doubt, another mistake). Of course, the boy may not be permitted escape. Her hands clasp together, resting lightly against her skirts as she looks up at Sammel, no amusement in her gaze at all. At first. "Sir Koll I do call friend. It's quite funny, actually. He's such a huge man and, as I hear it, not one you would wish to be placed on the opposite side of the battlefield. I suppose that's why they made him one of the royal guard. And, yet, somehow, he can find it within him to be jovial and quite engaging, even with those beneath him… Coincidentally, one of the Mistresses at the guild did a very interesting study regarding anatomical features and the effect they can have on one's personality. I did not take part, of course, my studies of a different vein but I wonder now if it would be worth taking note…" Her gaze wanders along the man, appraising him and then giving the barest of sniffs. Victricia's arrival gains her attention and, as she curtsies to the noblewoman. Alek's glances send the woman blushing, her jaw setting a bit stubbornly, caught misbehaving. "It's good to be home, Sir Alek. Congratulations to you… Well deserved." The last is completely heartfelt and she finds a warm smile for the man.

The boy was not allowed to leave. Sammel did not have to make any gestures for his man-at-arms to seize initiative and place a very definitive grip to secure the peasent stayed on the spot. AFter all, dismisal from presence was the noble's prerogative. And for every word Bryony made to follow, Sammel's expression turned from temper to cool nobleman's arrogance. "Woman," he said quietly serious. "Unless you are owed sworn protection, frivilously calling on a knight's name in the belief that it alone offers you and me some connection you can draw upon, is mistake. Being lippy, is a mistake. Forgetting your place, is a mistake." The words hung in the air. A look in his men's direction suggested he was done with the matter. And that they could take over, in whatever rough peasent-beating fashion they desiresd.
Yet there was a familiar Lady's voice. Suddenly another laugh errupted, different than the first one. Some of the danger had bled away from his voice, replaced with genuine amusement. He took a deep and steadying breath, filling his lungs and then slowly releasing every last bit of breath. It had the look of rote about it; an excercise that had been part of him for so long that he forgot he was performing it. His two men immediately relaxed, subtly removing themselves a little distance away. "Well," he said, comradly almost, slapping a hand on the poor common boy's shoulder, as if there'd been no malicious undertones before at all. "Accidents happen. Once. Twice and it's a pattern, no?" It was a message delivered not only to the boy, but by look to Bryony as well. But they were dismissed. Can't have peasents beaten infront of ladies. "You're too kind, my Lady. And Sir Knight." A nod as appropriate to satation for the knight, a bow for the Lady.

"Mistress," Tricia offered in Bryony direction, with a faint dip of her head in respect for the step above outright common the woman had earned. Though she was still attemping to mask a grin from Alek's jibbing, Victricia still looked to be in good humor despite the seriousness of the situation, one that was made all the moreso the longer Sammel continued to speak. Thank heaven for small favors, because he took a calming breath and shut up. Quelled the beast.
"Twice it is a pattern, indeed!" The Lady agreed, offering a dip of courtsey to the knight for his status in response to his bow. "And as this is twice we meet, this estranged status must be remedied! There should be wine, involved I think and perhaps ale. This young gentlemen needs to get along with his errands and you and I, why, we ought to catch up, it's been an age!" Talking with Tricia was on occasion, like being run down by a horse. There was no escape. At least not for Sammel, Byrony and her help though, Tric very much meant to allow escape. "Perhaps you'd join me for refreshments?" Hopeful smile.

Inclining his head to Bryony, Alek murmurs,"Thank you. I admit I wasnot entirely certain how I would do, but it does seem yesterday was a good day for me. Prince Jerric saw fit to make it better and honor more than I would have even thought. Though I took notice to some trouble he was having with his hand, I hear a horse bit him. I was wondering how that was fairing, or is another of the Royal Healers assigned to look after him this week?" Glancing to the lad with the box and back to Bryony again,"As I have seen Prince Stefan about as well, and I do know you are often assigned to him in turn. forgive me, I really don't know your schedule of late." Offering a simple and slightly apologetic smile to Bryony as such an admission.

Giving another incline of his head towards Sammel,"Sir Knight, a fair day to you. It does seem you have met Mistress Bryony, I fear she is ever looking for the next person to bandage up. " Inclinging his head to the Lady,"I fear I have not gotten you name, M'Lady to give the proper introductions in turn."

An eyebrow arches and the woman gives Alek her best 'surely-he-jests' look as Sammel's demeanor changes completely. Gaven appears confused and still somewhat terrified. She cannot even muster up a 'thank you' for his kindness in dismissing them. Her own ire seems to be a bit rankled. Hazel eyes shift towards Alek once more as she tugs at Gaven's sleeve, drawing the boy closer to her and away from the others. "Oh, no. It is my turn indeed. We were on our way to the pavilion with renewed stores so that I could, in fact, properly tend to the prince. There is going to be a conversation, to be certain. Perhaps I should speak to his lady first and receive her aide in properly schooling her husband to be on taking greater precaution… around horses." There is a bit of a smirk at the last, wryness in her expression. "Go on, Gaven." She sends the boy on his way this time. "I heard that Prince Jerric did promise you new armor? How ever will the ladies manage?" the woman teases.

"Ale and wine, and good company. How could I refuse?" Asked Sammel of Tricia, something about the offer she'd made making him seem to think there was a joke in the making. Idly he fingered the knife he wore opposite to his sword. It had been a gift from his brother. "It would be my absolute pleasure, my Lady." And with that he pleasently offered her his arm. His manner had gone a complete turn around, become genial and friendly, charming even. In the background his man at arms was looking like he had missed out on an oppertunity. The young squire looked rather relieved.
Beaming a brilliant white handsome smile, he gave a farewell nod in Alek's direction, then began to lead the way towards the tavern. The commoners of before he didn't bother to worthy with a backwards glance. Certainly no courtesies.

"Perhaps it would ease you, Sir Alek, to know that when I was with the Prince this morning, he seemed to be doing rather well beneath the ministrations of the healer that was with him. His hand may be sore, but his mind is sharp as ever." Helpfully offered, before his prodding courts the missing piece from the puzzle. "Oh my, of course. My apologies. Lady Victricia Auldholme," she grants, "And once again, my thanks for your assistance. Perhaps you'll do me the honor of a dance at the festivities? After all, you're quite the champion I should hate to miss a turn."
Yet, even as she spoke she was lacing her arm through Sammels, settling the tips of her fingers atop the grove of his knuckles with the gesture. "Are you very sure?" Inquired, when Sammel made glib question as to his possible refusal. "Because you could refuse you know. No one would blame you, except of course for me and then I fear I should be heartbroken for the rest of my days, left gossiping with the help. My reputation would never recover, I'd have wrinkles from frown lines, turn gray before my years…yes, yes, if you denied me I might well spend the rest of my days pining over what could have been all because one single solitary man, said no!" Yes, yes there might be a joke somewhere in that, but the magpie doesn't put emphasis on it. Instead!
Like the gentlemen he is, she lets him escort her away. "I bid you both good day!"

"It does ease the mind to hear that he is doing as well as ever, Lady Victricia." Alek bowing his head with the name now known,"And a pleasure to have met, my Lady. It would be a pleasure and an honor to dance with you at the festivities later, as you wish. A good and fine day to you til then." Inclining his head to Sammel,"And to you as well, Sir."

Alek now turning back to Bryony,"Prince Jerric did indeed promise me new armor and…I am quite certain they shall manage as they always do, Mistress." Shaking his head a touch at her tease. "Shall I escort you to the pavilion to ensure you manage to keep from trouble the rest of the way," already turning to walk with her and the gangly Gavin," or do you think you can manage?" Waiting until they have walked a bit before he does more quietly note to her,"You really should watch your tongue at times, they are not all so accepting as Prince Stefan, nor appreciating of being spoken to so plainly. "

"I would not have you sacrificing your plans to escort me, Sir Alek," Bryony murmurs politely, her smile not fading in the least. Hazel eyes shift again towards the noble pair and she manages a small curtsy, letting them go before returning her attention to the Westmark man. Her hands are clasped before her once more, the woman quiet for a few paces. As Alek begins, she gives a bit of a sigh. "He was an ass," she hisses. keeping her voice low and gesturing towards Gaven. "He's a boy. What did it serve to treat him such?" Her jaw sets again, arms crossing over her chest as she becomes sullen. "I am submitting his name to Mistress Rufella. I am telling you, there is a connection." She lifts one arm long enough to wag a pinkie meaningfully in the air towards Alek. Her ire lasts for but a moment. "Easy for you to say, of course… Now that you are a champion, how many other noblewomen have requested a dance, hmmm?"

Unless otherwise stated, the content of this page is licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-ShareAlike 3.0 License