(121-04-07) Bread and Combat
Bread and Combat
Summary: Magden and Tameron have a start of A Talk and then reunite with Embry and Mariya.
Date: April 7, 2014
Related: I'm On A Boat
Players:
Tameron..Magden..Mariya..Embry..

Sers Tameron and Osric returned from Dorne early this morning with little further learned than what was known before Tameron left. Still, the trip wasn't a full loss, in so far as Tameron has brought back a young woman, presumably acquired somewhere in Dorne. The early arrival meant the travelers stabled their horses and grabbed a few hours of sleep, and now Tameron's surfaced again, heading down into the kitchens to see about something to eat.

Magden, the young woman in question, never really went to sleep, waiting a polite few minutes after being dropped off whever she's sleeping, then slipping back out again. She's spent the interim meitculously familiarizing herself with the house — all the windows and winding stairs, back passages and servants doors, the trees and vines that reach up near windows and where the chimneys go. She's changed clothes since that last escapade, and made an effort to wash up a bit, but it's possible that when she, too, is drawn down by the smell of breakfast… there's still a smudge of soot on her nose.

Tameron's found some bread that was baked earlier in the day and some butter and jam to slather atop it. He lifts his head to blink over at Magden as the girl drifts in. He blinks again when that smudge of soot catches his eye. "Poking your nose into chimneys?"

Magden freezes, quite caught out, and turns to squint at herself in a seriving tray. She wrinkles her nose and scrubs at it with her sooty nose. "Uhm." She glances over her shoulder at Tam as she abashedly sets the tray down. "Yes?" Her steps carry her to the table, and she reaches for some of the bread — but stops. "May I?"

Tameron nods, nudging the remaining loaf over and passing her a kitchen knife. "Why?" he asks, "What's in a chimney that's so fascinating?"

Magden smiles, happily slathering butter and jam onto her bread. Breakfast is awesome. She seems to forget she's having a conversation until she's crammed the buttery, fruity deliciousness in her mouth. "Oh!" she says, looking apologetic as she chews her ginormous mouthful. "Hydig? Anda woof!"

Tameron just blinks and lifts his brows in silent query. Try again, Magden.

She swallows and wipes her mouth on her sleeve. "Chimneys are good for hiding. And roof access."

Tameron considers and give a small nod. "Escape routes are less of a concern, here," he offers, though after a moment an a small frown he amends, "probably."

"I'll sleep better, knowing where things are," explains Magden, shrugging and taking another huge bite of bread. The average things. Kitchen. Privy. Impossibly small, non-standard express exits.

"Mmm," Tam murmurs around a bite of his own. He chews and swallows before he notes, "There's a marketplace, here. We can get you clothing that fits properly and kit as well."

"My clothing is fine," says Magden. She darts a glance around the kitchen and goes to retrieve a couple of mugs, ladeling them both small beer from a barrel thereof. "We should talk, maybe. Before you spend any more money on me."

"Thanks," Tameron tucks in the last of his bread, chewing and swallowing before chasing it down with several gulps of small beer. "All right. What about?"

Magden perches on a stool, mug cradled in both her hands. "Your knight is very worried."

"Oh?" Tameron asks, taking another swallow. "What about?"

Magden hooks a tendril of hair with her fingers and tucks it behind her ear. "You. He thinks I'm going to cause you harm." She frowns. "You should, I think, seriously consider whether he's right."

Tameron's head cants a little. "Well, you do twirl a dagger very nicely, but I don't think you'd stick one between my ribs without reason, and I cannot imagine Ser Osric presuming otherwise."

"That isn't what he meant." Magden examines Tameron's features. "You know that isn't what he meant."

Tameron's gaze lifts and rests on Magden. "What did he mean, then?"

Magden frowns all the more. "Why are you being obtuse?" She doesn't sound angry, just perplexed. She sighs. "He said a lot of things, but most of it was about how I'm going to ruin your reputation, and that it was almost as important as your honor. That you won't be respected."

"If my reputation can be so easily mislaid, I'm not sure it was worth much of anything to begin with," Tameron replies. "I thought we discussed this, already. Have you changed your mind?"

"No," Magden says, shaking her head. "But you probably should. I know you think he's wrong about a lot of things — so do I — but he probably knows more about this than either of us. Men and their prejudices and traditions — how angry and stupid they can be." She looks down into her mug. "He doesn't like me. He thinks I — he thinks this is my fault. He thinks what will happen to you will be — my fault. That I'm — " She blows out a breath. "I'm nothing, Tameron. Ser. And I know that. I come from nothing and I'll always be nothing… But I'm not…" She looks at a loss. "I would never wish you ill."

"And should I pander to that, then? To their anger? Their stupidity? Is that the kind of man you would see me become?" Tameron asks quietly. "Hang them and their traditions, this was a vow set down between you and me. What is it you wish, Magden Quick?"

"I don't know," says Magden, in earnest, glancing up at Tameron and averting her eyes just as quickly. "I only — if I thought there were gods to hear me pray, I'd wish a city burn to the ground and the ashes scattered." But that's neither here nor there. "If you want me to be a squire, I want to be a squire."

"Mmm," Tameron agrees with her wish with a small nod. "But if I do not want you to be a squire, you do not want to be one?"

"You're the only person I'll serve," says Magden, simply.

Those words cause the corners of Tameron's mouth to lift for an instant before the expression is schooled and half-drowned in another hearty gulp of small beer. "Never mind serving," he tries. "If you… imagine a future that would please you. What would you be?"

"I don't have any practice imagining the future," Magden says, looking embarrassed. Then, with something like a quiet plea in her voice, "…Ask me some other time?"

It's later afternoon and Tameron and Magden are in the kitchen, pilfering bread, butter and jam and speaking quietly to one another over at the table. He gives a small nod and then tries, "How about tomorrow? Can you imagine that?"

From the front door, Mariya enters the Manse. With a sigh, she shuts the door behind her and makes her way to the kitchens in hope of pilfering some food in order to lift her spirits. Immediately, she recognizes Tameron - Magden not so much - but it is the former squire that she focuses her attention on. "Tameron!" She's forgotten his ser for the moment. "You've returned!"

A flash of red and orange fabric appears behind Mariya, the girl within scurrying after the princess. But there is only one member of Dornish royalty in their midst; up close, this dress proves to be less finely made, its style that of a modest Oldtown gown, if more flowing than most smallfolk styles. It draws the eye, more than every other detail of its wearer combined; in contrast, her dark brown hair, though styled with many looping braids, is washed out, and the colours bring out every freckle on Embry's simple face. "Princess— " she hurries, a mix of politeness and true happiness to see Mariya back, all interrupted when— "Tam— Ser Tameron! You're back!" With a guest. She attempts to stand nice and straight and quieter to behave like a proper lady. Or lady's maid, at the very least.

Magden almost smiles, but tucks it quickly into the corner of her mouth, smirking instead. She nudges Tameron's ankle with the toe of her boot. "You're a — " Then enters the princess and her companion, and the pale wisp of a young woman is on her feet and backing up a step, looking like she's been caught with her hand in the cookie jar. She just stares at the two other women. And blinks.

Tameron stands as well, though more for courtesy than because he's startled. Mariya gets a warm smile and a nod. "Hello, princess. Yes, we returned early this morning, but spent most of the time between then and now sleeping. Ser Osric is well and being either coddled or yelled at by his lady wife." It takes him a moment to recognize Embry in her finer gown and looping curls. "Embry? Well, don't you look very fine. Highness, Mistress, this is Magden Quick." A slight turn of his head includes the little blonde in their discussion. "Magden, this is the Princess Mariya Martell and Mistress Embry."

The streak of color following Mariya into the kitchen is enough to garner the princess' attention. With a blink of surprise, she grins at her maid warmly. "Oh! Embry, is that a new dress? It's lovely! I certainly approve of the colors." Then, however, her attention is taken up by Tameron. "I am sure it is the latter. A Trial of Seven, Ser Tameron? I can't tell if Ellia will maim Ser Osric to keep him out of it or everyone else to ensure his victory. Have you the names of the knights who will stand for Lord Blackmont?" In the middle of her inquiry, though, she blinks and nods at Magden. "Oh! Forgive me, a pleasure Magden Quick."

Before the newcomer is even introduced, Embry's smile to Magden cheerfully crooked, showing her gap teeth. Her smile softens modestly toward Tameron and his compliments, and she ducks her head, near to flushing for even being spoken of in the same sentence as Princess Mariya. That dress might be too big for this girl in grandness if not in size, even if it is dull in comparison to anything the Dornish women wear. "Thank you, your grace— " she says in earnest, then nods to Magden, her thoughts a'whirl— she can't seem to help but blurt, counteracting her attempt to be quiet, "A Trial of the Seven? Is it true?"

"Hello. Princess. Miss," Magden awkwards a greeting to both women, stepping liberally back and a little behind Tameron. Not hiding, per se. Just clearly a subordinate.

"Not all of the names, Princess, though Ser Osric and myself will be among those that take the field for Lord Blackmont," Tameron replies. "Ser Osric was more in Lord Blackmont's company. He may know if others have been chosen."

Nodding solemnly to Embry, Mariya holds up the letter that she has with her. "It came by raven from Ser Osric before his arrival." As Tameron answers, she nods once, as if making up her mind. "I intend to test the waters with a few knights in Oldtown to ensure a full seven if nothing else. It may also help to show that it is not simply Dorne versus the Reach." And perhaps the more people who would help Tameron keep Osric safe, the easier it will be to keep Ellia off a warparth. It is not that she has forgotten Magden, merely that her attention is elsewhere and that the young woman's steps to place herself behind the knight has done their duty in allowing her to fade into the background.

Embry's eyes widen a the thought of the battle. A thousand questions run rampant, bright in her otherwise dully hued eyes, but she stays quiet with them, this time; she'll save them for later. She watches Magden behind Tameron from behind Mariya, herself. Two blonde lowborn girls and their superiors, only one of them's wearing a fancy dress.

"Is it not Dorne versus the Reach?" Tameron asks with a lift of his brows and a small curl of his lip. "That notice must have been posted whilst we were trapped on Battle Island, hiding for fear of being mauled and hung in the street." Perhaps he'd say more, but a servant pokes his head into the kitchen, clearly annoyed that he's had to go fishing for the person he was sent to seek. "Ser Tameron, you are needed." Tameron blinks in mild surprise but nods. Glancing over at Magden he says, "Finish your breakfast. We'll continue that conversation later, all right?" He offers Mariya and bow and a 'highness' and then Embry a smaller bow and a 'mistress' before he slips off to follow the servant.

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