(121-01-23) Hightower Holds Court
Hightower Holds Court
Summary: Lord Ormund Hightower holds court for those with grievances or requests to come forward and approach the Lord of the City with them. Turns out a Beekeeper is quite unhappy with the City and there's trouble at the Quill and Tankard that needs a stiff ruling.
Date: 01/23/121
Related: Travails of Ser Daffodil

It is Midday and within The Hightower, court is getting ready to be held, within the throne room. Ormund sits on his black and silver throne, his hand moving through his hair as he discusses a few things with his advisers. Today he is wearing simple silver and red trousers and runic, his arm rests against the throne as he nods, before breaking away from his advisers, his glance lingers on the galley above the Throne room for a moment, as if looking for something or someone, before he nods to a guard to open door with "Let court begin." and a small gesture.

A raven with only one foot swoops around the high high vaulted ceilings of the throne room. It lands on the back of the throne and drops a bit of paper from it's beak onto the Lord Hightower's lap. The note that's written with a bit of charcoal says, "I am here. You look handsome. A man, with yellow cap, Five rows back, very angry. Be careful, my Tower."' It then tilts his head peering at those that are let in and cries, "BOW!" Then the Raven flaps its wings and alights into the air and swoops up to the Galley where it rests upon the shoulder of a silhouette within the shadows. Pale slender hands slip out of the shadows and rest on the railing of the Gallery. The "Sea Witch" is in audience and the superstitious and gossip mongers are all whispering their fresh and even more depraved rumors as they settle in their places to either side of the aisle from door to throne that is woven to look like grey and black mortar stones of Hightower that ends in a blaze of red fire in a round carpet that covers the throne's dais.

A small young man slowly walks into the spacious room after he hears the raven cry. His eyes are trained upon the floor, a small item in his hand.. when looked at closely, it appears to be a bronze seven pointed star inside a sphere with a handle on the bottom where it can be grasped. The boy approaches the middle of the room looking upwards from his feet towards the throne room, he scrapes his right foot backwards as he gives off a bow speaking in a soft but loud voice so it is audible to that of Ormund. "Bless thou, most Noble Lord Hightower, I am humbled to be in your presence."

First into the chamber is the recently arrived bit of trouble from Kings Landing or wherever he came from most recently. Ser Mikhal Bolton adjudicates and handles matters on behalf of the Targaryen crown - a position to which he was 'promoted' to from Kings Justice after proving too brutal for the role. His business? Just to make it known that he was here. Mikhal is a powerful looking brute of a humorless man. Coming into the court after the boy he simply wallflowers and waits his turn.

Ormund picks up the paper reading it for a moment, his gaze moving back towards the Galley. As people begin to enter he nods and sits forward on his throne, "I am thankful for your presence, boy. Without the words of the people of Old Town I am only a man in a chair." he says nodding slowly, his hand moving up and rubbing his chin, "What is your name boy and what is your business with me today?" his tone is pleasant enough as always, he never seems to be in bad spirits when it comes to holding court. His eyes move and watch as Mikhal moves to the side, quietly waiting his turn.

Walking into the throne room comes Derrioth, in his dark-tinted armor along with his black cloak with a purple rampant unicorn upon the back. After he enters and settles within the large room, not too far from Mikhal, crossing his arms across his chest as he awaits his turn as well, keeping silent as he shifts his gaze to the boy, and then the lord of Old town himself.

The boy looks eye to eye with the man as he speaks, looking at his feet.. unprepared it seems, before he looks back up towards Ormund, "I am Jebediah.." he says, pausing for a moment before talking again, "I am currently in-training for Sub-Deaconship at the Starry Sept, and after my training I shall attempt to pursue the task of becoming a Septon.." he nervously says placing his hands behind his back, grasping his wrist with one hand. "I come to speak with thyself today about the Starry Sept of which rests upon Starry Street. In regards to that, my topic of conversation is a matter of grave concern.."

Mikhal casually picks his calloused fingers with a small pearing knife as the boy speaks. Not really interested in formal religion the warrior merely passes time in his own world.

Ormund nods slowly, "I am familiar with the Starry Sept, Lad." he says slowly, "Jebediah, you come before me today as a man, seeking my presence in a matter." he says nodding slowly, "Do not be timid, we both put our trousers on in the same fashion in the morning, spit out what you view as a grave concern, in need of my concern." he says nodding, with a smile, clearly trying to make the young lad feel a little less nervous.

Derrioth raises his brow, tapping his right index finger against his upper-left arm slowly, his gaze shifting from the boy and back to the lord occasionally before muttering to himself, "Maybe I won't regret this too much.".

A man in a yellow cap that's several rows back and also waiting for his turn rumbles towards Jebediah, "Come on lad, some of us have pressing matters. Man up and speak. The Lord of the city knows about the Starry Sept. Get on with it!"

The boy, Jeb, lets off a brief smile upon his face, turning his head towards the man who outbursts several rows back.. he looks at his feet and then back at Ormund, "As you know, the Starry Sept has had several attacks placed upon it in the past.. and I ask that more surveillance and attention be brought to the matters, and that guards that roam the town and guard manses and stuff perhaps be stationed in clumps around the area.. the Sept has taken many blows, and I would hate to see another one be placed upon it."

Mikhal continues wall-flowering his presence casting a dark shadow over the proceedings.

Ormund leans in and speaks with a few of his advisers, for a few moments in hushed tones, quietly, before he turns back to the boy, his hand runs through his hair slowly, "I will not pull guards from Oldtown to focus only on the Starry Sept, I will however increase patrols in the area, for now to see if that curbs some of the dangers." he says with a small nod, "If that does not curb the activity seek my presence again in court, Jebadiah." he says with a slow nod, "Your concern has been heard, thank you for your voice." he nods and one of his advisers next to him, says, "The next person who requests the Lord's presence may approach." the aide making a dismissing gesture to Jebediah.

The boy half-step backwards, giving a head-bow.. "Thank you, m'lord.." he turns his back upon the thrones, walking out the doors.

Ser Mikhal Bolton approaches the throne. He bows respectfully but the gesture seems a little out of place in such a monster of a man. "Ser Mikhal Bolton my Lord. I am just here to inform you of my presence in the city - acting on behalf of the Targaryens. I have yet to learn what business the crown wishes me to action." The brutal man's voice is cold but astoundingly erudite for a professional warrior. In one hand he carries a book in deference to his eloquence.

The man in the yellow cap watches the boy leave with a roll of his eyes. "Maybe if the sept wasn't filled with women and sniveling little boys, it wouldn't be such a prime target." If someone else approaches they'll find the man in the yellow cap is also approaching without much care for line order. But he does hang back, arms crossed and grumbling when Mikhal proves to be a bit more important than he is. But the rest of the line is intimidated and the grumpy man is given his cut in line.

Derrioth glares back, "Or maybe if the people of Oldtown weren't such cocks they wouldn't swings blades around as much as they fling their shit." he taunts, staring at the man with a dark, annoyed gaze, his armor perhaps adding to any intimidation factor he may have. After staring towards the man for a good moment or two he'd look back forward, digging his fingers into his arms as he maintains them crossed across his chest.

Ormund nods slowly, "Yes I received a raven about your presence." he says with a small nod, not giving the man in the yellow cape much mind at this time, people tend to get rather heated during court. "I certainly hope you have found Oldtown welcoming enough." he says with a small wave of his hand, "Let me know if Hightower can be of any aide to the Crown." he says softly with a small nod, "However remember who you are representing and act accordingly." he says before another small outburst happens, he stands up from his throne.
One of his aide reaches his hand out and Ormund simply pushes it away walking down, looking at everyone, "Am I not a fair Lord?" he says looking at everyone, "I hold court and I listen, something many have forgotten it seems." he says running his hand through his hair, "I offer respect to the people of Oldtown and anyone who seeks my presence." he says, his face straight his tone a little cold, "Though the only thing I request in return, is respect, not for me, but for Court itself." he says, "If another outburst happens, you will not be heard." he says looking between various people, before moving back and sitting back down, "Ser Mikhal, do have any any other busniess for me? If not, you are welcome to seek me out within Hightower when you do require my aide." he says with a small nod leaning back into his throne slightly.

"No other business My Lord - but I hope you don't mind if I remain and observe you holding court?" Mikhal has noticed Yellow cap and wants to see what this rude man is about.

Derrioth shifts his gaze over towards Ormund, grinning slightly, muttering to himself once more, "I suspected more of an ass, what a nice surprise I've gotten.". Derrioth quietly adjust his cloaks, waiting.

Ormund nods, "My court is open to any and all." he says before leaning back to his aide, who nods, "The next person who requests the Lord's presence may approach." the aide making a dismissing gesture to Mikhal, but it is not as coldly done as the one to the boy who had spoken before him. "Safe steps Ser Mikhal." he says with a small nod, waiting for the next person to approach.

Instead of an adverse reaction to Derrioth's condemning words of the town he's in the man with the yellow cap only snorts and nods. "Well said!" Seems this man isn't from Oldtown himself and couldn't agree more with making fun of the people of said town. Upon hearing that Mikhal's business is done he steps right on up. "I am ruined your lordship, and it is the roads that need better men. I come from Honeyholt Province. Some idjit from Oldtown thought it would be fun, or cute, or it was done in out and out malice to go burning the field bordering my property. Destroying my livelihood m'lord! What's going to be done about that!? Oldtown is responsible. Probably one of those Red Priests you let settle here. Burning up some virgin sacrifice that got spread and has COST ME EVERYTHING!"

Ormund sits quietly, his head resting on his hand connected to the arm leaning against the throne. When the man finishes, Ormund remains quiet, silent, staring at the man, for a good long moment. "Well I understand and am deeply concerned for your lively hood, if one thing can be said about me, it is that I am a fair man." he says slowly nodding, removing his head from his hand leaning forward, "However, you come to me with accusations, in your words." he says closing his eyes for a moment taking a deep sigh, "What proof do you have that it was a citizen of Oldtown or anything along those lines?" he asks curiously, tilting his head, "Also you state the field bordering your property, was the field not yours to sow?" he asks curiously, tilting his head, his tone is level and calm, with every word he says, his gaze never leaving the man as he speaks.

Derrioth lightly chuckles as he listens to Ormund, staring at the man in curiosity. Perhaps he's wondering as to what he'll say in defence? Who knows.

The yellow cap makes the red in the man's face look even more sickly with rage. He huffs and puffs while Ormund keeps a level head. "It's /yer/ land m'lord. Hightower Land. No one works it. It's an open field fer miles. Was meant to stay that with it was. Based on an arrangement with yer brother-in-law. May he live a long and honey'd life! If it weren't for me and my family the fire would have spread to my plot as well. Do you know what too much smoke does to bees m'lord? Kills'm stone dead. I bet you also know that bees don't see property lines. So it's that field that they gather their food from. No field, no food, no honey, no money. There was promise that the field would be left alone. Not burned black and barren. M'wife is sick from the smoke, my bees are dead and it was them burning Red Priests! M'son heard chanting and drumming that night." Another raven cry from the Galley of, "Burn!" Which makes the supersticious smallfolk add, "Or maybe it was a Witch. Hear you got them here in this heathen loving city. I demand justice m'lord! … Or least compensation. That's only fair, you are a fair man. It's fair."

Ormund listens to the man slowly and nods, "As it was my land that caught fire, I will send a Maester to aide in the recovery of your beloved." he says nodding slowly, before leaning in and speaking to one of his advisors, before waving his hand at the advisor he was talking to, "As I have no control over vandals, I will not pay for the dead bees." he says nodding slowly, holding up his hand to stop the man from talking if he tries before he can continue, "However, this is suitable as the field is burned and as you stated, no field no honey." he says his eyes level on the man.
"Instead I will grant you, permission to sow the land, as it has been burned it should be ripe for seed, and I will provide you the seed, for one harvest, this should allow you to collect, replace the bees and create a healthy field." he says nodding, "However if through voices I hear you are or have lied in any way, I will not only burn the field again with my own hands, but sow it with salt so that you may never, taste a drop of honey again in your life." Ormund says rather slowly, "Or if you ever return to my court again, making accusations you can not support, instead of the simple facts and…" he says glancing up at the galley, "Insulting those I call my guests." he say clicking his tongue against his cheek, "I will cut out your tongue and feed it to the crows." he says with a small nod, "I believe that is fair." he says slowly.

Derrioth scoffs, raising his right brow as he listens, clearly amused- if not impressed by the lord. He'd bring his right hand up to brush away a few strands of hair from out infront of his face, before lowering his hand again.

Mikhal has heard enough and leaves quietly.

The man in the yellow cap was going to bark at the unfairness of no money. But he's angry not stupid, so he is silenced by the raised hand and his anger turns to surprise at the compensation that is offered. He even smiles and is about to praise Ormund, but that's when he's threatened and the clack of his teeth as he shuts his mouth echoes in the silent hall and then comes a very audible gulp. The silence is however broken by the raven again crying, "Tongue!" His yellow cap practically flops off of his head as he nods rapidly. "Yes, m'lord! Very wise and fair m'lord!" He starts to back away bowing his head again and again, "Thank you m'lord!" The raven swoops out of the galley and shits on that yellow cap on its way to drop another note in the Lord Hightower's lap before returning to his mistress in the galley. Hightower's strong defense of the Sea Witch has more murmurs and gossip mongering going on.

This note reads: 'Don't thr What is your thing with tongues? We shall investigate.' There is a mark of the berry stain from her lips on the note. Hinting that the investigation isn't going to be bad at all and will probably entail their tongues. Naughty little Sea Witch!

Ormund nods slowly, his eyes still focused on the man, before he leans in and says something in whispered tones to one of his advisors, and nods. A smirk flashes across his face at the raven, "I will have the seed brought to you, just remember I require respect for as I said, this Court when it is held." he says not saying anything else to man, before leaning in to the same adviser he speaks with who announces the next person may approach, and the adviser does just that, as Ormund picks up the note and reads it silently, as he waits for the next person to approach, his gaze moving up towards the Galley for a moment before falling back on the court.

Derrioth yawns, walking forward as he stretches his arms outwards above his head in a casual manner. Once he draws close enough, he'd lower his hands, pleasantly folding them behind his back as he bows his head in respect, "Greetings my lord, I hope your day has fared well so far. I am Derrioth, a mere sellsword in service to Lady Vivian of House Brax, who holds an estate within your esteemed city." He says, with a grin as he raises his head to look up to galley, towards the acclaimed sea-witch, giving her a friendly nod before looking to Ormund, "My lord, I have recently come into possession of the knowledge that…" He'd chuckle pausing for a second or two, "Frankly, your city guard is quite laughable, in all honesty." he says, tilting his head over to the right with a smirk, "No disrespect intended…" He'd pause again, as he begins pacing from left to right, situating his gaze upon the floor as he speaks, "You see my lord, starting from what was about, oh I don't know, two or three weeks ago or so, I've been attacked numerous times by armed men, within the open streets no doubt. And even before then, I've witnessed morale wavering from the city guardsmen for some things that, believe me, a child should be brave facing." he states, pausing again as he lifts his gaze from the floor to the lord upon the throne, tilting his head over to left with a pleasant smile, "Your men arrive late when crimes and the sort are committed, and if they do arrive all they do is sit and watch, hell I think I might have seen a few placing bets on some of the fights I partook in, when I was attacked, of course." Derrioth states, "You see my lord, your men need a proficient leader, someone they can look up to and place their trust in, patrols must not be simply more frequent around the starry sept, rather they need to be improved in general." he admits with a light shrug, his eyes trailing off to the right as he looks around, "When a man is attacked in the streets, or has a tankard thrown at him when he's minding his own business at a tavern, a rather famous one at that, it's ought make him wonder…" he says, before allowing his eyes to travel back over to Ormund, raising his right brow, "Wouldn't you say so, my lord?"

Ormund sits and silently listens to the man speak. His gaze on him as he listens curiously, though his face stone and still. When Derrioth finishes, he sits silent for a long moment, clearly thinking his brow furrowing slightly, "Well within anything there are those that are far from examples." he says slowly nodding, his hand running up and moving through his hair, his gaze returning to man before him, "It also seem as if you are suggesting you would be the man who would lead these men to be fine examples?" he asks curiously tilting his head.

The sellsword shrugs, raising his brows, "/Perhaps/ I could, perhaps, it depends on a number of things my lord. It depends on your men, would they be fine with someone who was but a sellsword earlier leading them? It depends on my employer, would she be willing to give me up? And.. It depends on you, my lord. Do- or rather, /can/ you entrust me with your men?" Derrioth asks, but quickly continues on, possibly implying that the questions aren't to meant be answered, "You see my lord, who you choose is up to you, your beliefs, and perhaps even your honor. I can't, nor do I want to, influence any of it to have you make a decision. I simply ask of you to make one, not now, not later… But if you /do/ have someone in mind I'd be gracious if you could bestow upon me his or her name." he says, before looking over his shoulder back at the people behind himself, "Oh, and make the people behind me stop whispering and bickering about the 'sea-witch', witches of blood, fire, and water- No matter what magic they use they're still very much people," he says, turning his head to look back to Ormund, "As are you and I."

Ormund chuckles slightly, shaking his head, "You are a humorous man, indeed." he says slowly leaning forward in his chair, "I like how you word things." he continues with a small nod, this causing one of his advisers to let out a small chuckle, which he tries to stifle with his hand. "You see my good Sellsword." he says nodding slowly, "I am a fair man, I believe a man can be measured, by his deeds and actions, not titles and blood." he continues nodding slowly, "While the Watch may not be perfect, nothing is. For every one that does wrong there is another that does right." he says nodding slowly, "And by that I must do them right, if I punish those who have done right because of those who have done wrong, I am not being fair." he says slowly nodding.
"Now if you wish for the position of Captain of my Watch, this is my recommendation for you." he says nodding slowly, "Quit selling your sword and try to earn a place in the ranks among the Watch." he says slowly, "Then whilst in the Watch earn your keep, set the correct example and one day you may just become the Captain, because you are correctly, I will not entrust my city to a Sellsword, over those who have proven their loyalty and adherence, to the laws of Oldtown." he says softly nodding.
"Now I thank you for you concern with the Watch, I will bring it to the attention of the new Captain when he is appointed, as far as your name, if you wish to make it noted among the new Captain, I have already given you the best advice I can, to be noticed by him." he says slowly nodding, "I believe my advice is both fair and sound. Now do you have any other business for me today, Sellsword?" he asks curiously.

Derrioth stares to Ormund as he speaks, a impressed grin upon his face. Once Ormund finishes, the sellsword himself lets out a quiet chuckle as well, bringing his hands around from behind his back to clasp together in front of himself as if going to clap, "Nice answer indeed my lord, I can see why this city is doing so well." he states, raising his right brow, "Now, I wish not for position of captain of the watch, I simply wished to sound my concerns, my lord." he says, bowing his head again to Ormund, "That is all I have for this day, my lord. I bid you farewell." he says, turning upon his heels as he brings his head up once more, gazing up to the acclaimed sea-witch again, bowing slightly, in a clearly purposely exaggerated manner, but not as if being sarcastic, "I bid you farewell as well, lady witch." he says with a chuckle before proceeding to exit the tower, reaching back with his left hand as he pushes open the doors with his right hand, drawing his black hood over his head.

Sometime later as Court is dwindling down to a close…

Garvin is trying his best to get free of his Leash, the aging knight Lord Tyrell sent from Highgarden to ensure his son remained innocent and pure, or at least alive, but Ser Marcys Hale dogs the young lord's heels. "Begone with you, Leash!" Garvin whines, walking swiftly down the stairs from the upper levels. "I am a man grown and perfectly able to fend for myself against the likes of those who patronize the finest tavern in Oldtown. I have no need for escorts nor babysitters!"

Ormund rubs his forehead softly, it seems that Court has finally finished for the day, then he hears Ser Hale and Garvin moving down the stairs from the Galley, "Why is it you wish to frequent the taverns, Lord Tyrell?" he asks curiously waving a dismissing hand at his advisors as he stands up and starts to move towards the bottom of the steps, "Has my wine and ale run dry?" he asks curiously, this causing a small chuckle from a couple of his advisers who are preparing their own departure.

Garvin suddenly freezes, his eyes wide as he turns toward the sound of Ormund's voice. Hale quickly bows, and Garvin remembers to do the same, putting on a pleasant smile. "I did not think to meet you here, Lord Hightower," he says cheerfully, sweeping off his absurdly large hat festooned with plumes and fresh flowers. "You are most generous with your wines and ales, as with your entire household, and my siblings and I are very grateful for your hospitality. But I have found the most amusing inn, where the people are as entertaining as can be. 'Tis called the Quill and Tankard, and one never knows what might befall of an evening. Do you know the place, my Lord?"

The Silver Mask Archmaester comes striding in, looking cross. He's an old man and he uses a staff, but at the moment he doesn't seem to need it. He seems to be dragging quite a party of folks behind.

Millicent remains in her shadows for the while. Though as court dwindled to a close and as Ormund starts to stroll so does she so they are relatively in the same area just with her in the story above in the galley. The cloak she wears and the shadows she keeps to still has people's tongues wagging but said gossip quickly quiets when Ormund passes by.

Trystan follows the Maester, along with a large number of guards. Only one is armored as a knight, the rest appear to be rangers, following their Lord. His face is serious, as are those of his men.

Mikhal follows the Maester in carrying his book on etiquette that it apparently is near lethal to interrupt his reading of if last nights' example holds.

Two of the rangers following Trystan are tasked with holding a Jeb, the one holding him from the front of his body has a rag clasped against the boys forehead. The boy is bleeding profusely from his head, blinded in his own blood, "What do I do with him..?" the ranger asks who carries the front part of the boy.

Ormund rubs his forehead for a moment, "You are most welcome to anything, you require and yes I hav…" he starts before Luckin arrives with people in tow, his head turning and his attention now on the new gathering, his hand moving up and running through his hair slowly, his eyes move across everyone slowly, "Archmaester Luckin…" he says slowly his eyes moving between everyone, clearly waiting for someone to start telling him what is going on.

"My Lord Hightower!" says the Archmaester. "Begging your pardon, there has been a /slew/ of violence at our most famous tavern these past few days. I am seeing entirely too many broken bones and lost teeth." He indicates Mikhal with a motion of his staff, a little jab. "This man is in part responsible, at least for the mess I had to bind up last night. I do not know what it was today, but look at this boy." Now he gestures to Jeb.

Garvin turns to see the newcomers, eyes widening at the sight of them. He falls silent, letting Lord Hightower deal with uch matters, but there's a flicker of recognition when he sees one or three faces, one brow quirking with curiosity. Ser Hale stands behind Garvin's left shoulder, being his usual silent, grumpy self.

Rona saunters in behind Archmaester Luckin and his entourage, looking entirely out of place in a court environment, wearing trousers and a blade at her hip. She spends a great deal of time admiring the scenery, but keeps an eye on Luckin for social cues.

Millicent's close presence above is revealed in the one footed raven that is perched on the shoulder of her cloak crying out, "Storm! Storm!" A pale slender hand lifts from the cloak to take the interrupting bird's beak and lightly clamp it shut.

"I think Lord Hightower already knows of the incident in question Archmaester as well as my proclivities. The incident stands as a typical example of the natural consequences of attacking me." Mikhal is unapologetic.

Trystan smirks a small smirk at Mikhal's comment, but the smirk disappears at once. He looks to Lord Hightower and bows before continuing. "A number of men came into the tavern and immediately set to accosting the lad being carried by my men. As I know the lad and consider him a friend, my men and I went to prevent any form of fight by blocking the men from the boy. However, one took a bottle threw it at the poor lad. Hit him straight on the head. They then tried to flee, and my men and I… stopped them. After he…" he gestures to Mikhal. "Blocked their path."

Luckin gives Mikhal a skeptical look, then moves to inspect Jebediah's head.

The ranger holding the front portion of Jebediah moves the rag-aside, revealing numerous embedded pieces of glass stuck in the boys head. The boy has his eyes closed tightly, he'd be gritting his teeth. One of the pieces of glass embedded in his skin shakes slightly, before some blood around the glass spurts onto the surface, running down the side of his head. The ranger places the rag back over his wound after the Archmaester takes the good look he needs.

Ormund rubs his forehead for a moment before his hand goes down, "Well, I see faces that spoke at court today." he says slowly, his hand going through his hair slowly as he moves back towards his throne, his face straight and his tone even, "Archmaester Luckin, you of course have my thanks for your diligence in the matter of the last couple incidents." he says slowly as takes a seat in his throne, listening to Trystan, "Okay." he says slowly with "Archmaester Luckin, and Archmaester Luckin only, please tell me what you know of these recent incidents." he states slowly.

Rona moves up into Luckin's view, so he at least knows she is present as requested. But she keeps her lips sealed, as per the Lord's wishes.

"I was not present, My Lord," replies Luckin, bowing slightly. Then he leans on his staff. "What I know is that I have seen injury after injury come to my halls, and the men sporting these various wounds say they have acquired them at the Quill and Tankard. Several most grievous ones from last night told me that Ser Mihkal was responsible. I went to the tavern to find the man, and what do I find? Yet another brawl, yet another half-dozen men with wounds to treat." He shakes his head.

Garvin jumps a bit at the sound of a raven, peering around to find the source of the words.

"Several men? I injured two men last night and no men today. Is mathematics not on the Archmaester's chain," Mikhal japes dryly.

Luckin casts a scathing look at Mikhal.

Garvin opens his mouth, as though about to say something, but remembers that Lord Ormund wishes only to hear from the Archmaester just now, so his teeth click closed again.

Ormund nods slowly, listening. His hand moving through his hair again, "Thank you Archmaester Luckin. Once again your services to the Realms is much appeciat…" he starts, before he suddenly stands up from the throne, he actually looks mad. "Did I or did I not, just say that I only wanted to hear from Archmaester Luckin right now?" he says his tone rather cold and his eyes narrowing on Mikhal, "Ser Mikhal, are you perhaps deaf or perhaps you would like to take my place?" he says his hands gesturing to the throne.

Trystan says nothing, having expected some sort of outburst due to Mikhal's comment. He simply stands with his hands behind his back, as do his men.

"Apologies my Lord but calumny raises my ire. I will be silent." Mikhal delivers the apology as tersely as one can. But he is as usual emotionless.

Rona pinches the bridge of her nose, shaking her head.

"If you recall correctly, I stated you needed to also remember who you represent, earlier in the day, Ser Mikhal, due remember the words I speak." Ormund says slowly, "Now if I am to be fair and truly understand, what is going on in Oldtown, I will hear people, I am fair I will hear all, when it is their time to speak." he says taking a seat again, he points at Trystan, "You have explained what you saw today, were you present for any of the previous events, also can you tell me who threw the bottle?" he asks slowly.

The ranger holding the front portion of the boy's arms looks to be getting tired.. he nods towards the other ranger, they crouch slowly.. setting the boy down upon the floor, kneeling beside him - one continuing to hold the bandage.

"I will not be mocked," says Luckin, casting a searing look at Mihkal. The old man is fearless, it seems, and his kindly blue eyes can get sharp when he feels it. "The accusation is unacceptable, Ser. What you did and what I was told may well be two different things, and I have told our Lord what the injured men told me, and to hells with your ire."

A bit of whispering goes on as a grand occasion has happened, for the first time the Sea Witch drifts down from the shadows of her gallery and the shadowed cowl stares back at Garvin as she passes. The cloak makes it hard to see if her feet actually touches the floor as she glides to the dais, off to the side so she's not between the Lord and his subjects. She waits for bidding to speak before she'll actually step onto the dais, approach the Lord and whisper to him. "I am sure none involved want to be responsible for being the cause of the most beloved tavern in Oldtown to be closed down for the first time since it originally opened." She is forced to pause to take a long breath before she can continue whispering, "They would be the most reviled person in the city and also lose their most favorite place to drink. So let it be known that there will be peace at the Quill and Tankard, or there will be no Quill and Tankard.'

Trystan shakes his head. "No, m'lord. The man who threw the bottle is being watched over by some of my men, as are the rest of his group. They won't be able to leave the tavern until the City Watch arrives."

The ranger adjusts the rag slightly, a small pieces of glass slipping out of his wound dropping to the floor.. Jeb stomps the heel of his foot on the ground, grunting slightly in pain.

Mikhal pointedly ignores the Archmaester - still believing the man sympathetic to his assailants. He folds his arms and watches the parlor game of court justice in front of him with detached indifference. Not confident his turn to speak would ever arrive.

The Braavosi woman, Rona, stifles her chuckle at the back and forth between the fearless old man and the brutish knight. But her amusement is all too evident in her eyes.

Garvin can't help but flinch a bit at the Lord's sudden anger, shrinking in on himself. And when the cowled woman glides up to the throne, a hard shiver travels down, then back up his spine.

Ormund, of course gestures towards the Sea Witch to approach, when he notices she is waiting. "Archmaester Luckin, as you well know you are well respected by me and my court, Ser Mikhal's lack of…" he says clicking his tongue against his cheek, "Tact, will be handled once I truly understand what is happening and resolve it. Also when will the boy be able to speak?" he says offering Luckin a small nod, leaning in to listen to the whisper Millicent offers him. "Thank you, Lord Banefort." he says as he gestures towards one of his Advisers to come to him, saying something in hushed tones to him, before the Adviser leaves. Then he looks towards Mikhal, "Now Ser Mikhal your view of the events that transpired?" he asks slowly.

Jeb speaks softly, a shakiness in his voice, caused by the pain of his wounds. "I can spe-eak.."

"You would have heard reports of it. Seven men set upon me last night. Two of them were related to a man I executed in discharging my duties as King's Justice. I incapacitated them - some would think in a manner too brutal." Mikhal looks at Luckin at this point. "One of the two I incapacitated fled with the rest of the men after a few seconds of combat." Continuing, "AS for the events today I merely stopped the offending parties from leaving the Tavern. I was not involved until just before the bottle was thrown. I did not know what precipitated the conflict but I assisted Lord Banefort in subduing the men by merely blocking the door. Not fighting." Actually kind of a dull week for Mikhal - and if this big a deal was being made of this kind of week… well… he was thinking that things might be about to get interesting.

Ormund nods at Mikhal slowly, "Thank you Ser Mikhal." he says simply, his attention now going to the boy, "Then speak, tell me the events that transpired to bring you too this state." he says slowly, his hand running through his hair as he waits for a response, leaning in and whispering something to Millicent for a moment, "That is my currently line of thought along with posting two watchmen at the Tavern, despite the drain on resources that it will create." before his attention is back on the boy.

Jeb nods slightly speaking in a somewhat loud voice so that Ormund can hear him - "I walked into the tavern.. spoke to the barmaid.. had a few laughs, and then walked to a table at the end of the room.. I sat down and just relaxed.. and three men who I know-.. not on good terms, walked in with bladed weapons.. and threatened to hurt me, because I fell short on a gold-dragon I was supposed to pay a fortnight ago.. I was paying the men because they had threatened to destroy the Sept, and they had already stabbed me once before in the leg, so I knew they meant business." The boy swallows deeply, taking a breath before returning to speak, "I gave them payment of thirty gold-dragons a fortnight, and with my last payment.. I miscounted and accidentally only gave them 29. Banefort and his men got up after the men tried to start a fight with me.. the men backed off, and one of the bad men chucked a glass-bottle from the barstand at my head.. in which it made contact.. and a brawl took place, and all the bad men were incapacitated and plundered by Banefort and his men."

Ormund nods slowly, "Thank you." he says to the boy, his hand running through his hair slowly, letting out a deep rather frustrated sigh, his brow furrowing as he rubs it. "Now does anyone else have words they wish me to hear?" he asks looking around the room, "If so please be orderly around it, I will not have chaos in the Court." he says nodding slowly, "If not I have come to the conclusion, in which I feel will be best for all." he says leaning back in the throne.

Millicent's pale beauty can be seen by Ormund within the cowl at this angle and closeness. "Force them to not act like Wildlings. They will behave or they will lose their favorite place to act like imbeciles. I am sorry to give unsolicited advice, I just couldn't watch you grow so angry from afar. Would you like me to stay?" It's clear this sort of level of interaction was not in her carefully laid plans. But her emotions got the best of her and she wished to be at his side while he was so vexed. But she's not his wife or adviser so she is very willing to be shooed off of the dais. Millicent also adds, "Just no ripping out of tongues, hmm?" When Ormund leans up and whispers back softly, all anger and frustration seeming to leave him when he talks to her, "You are fine and your advice and presence is always welcome in my court, love." The Sea Witch remains where she is beside the throne to his left.

Rona steps forward, bowing to Ormund with a flourish of her arm. At the Lord's signal to go on, she speaks in a thick Braavosi accent. "Lord Hightower, seeing as I was brought here to speak, I may as well. I am Rona Vielo of Braavos. I have kept a room at the Quill and Tankard for many weeks now, and I was present for the incidents both last night and tonight. I cannot add anything to what you have heard about tonight's incident. But I saw what Ser Mikhal did to those two men. It was brutal, yes. But he was outnumbered six to one. I am a woman, my Lord, but I am also a warrior, and I know that those odds can easily fell the greatest fighter. Ser Mikhal took the only option he had, which was to attack so ferociously that the other men would not dare risk the same from him. By maiming two men, he spared the rest." She bows again, "Thank you. That is all I have to say."

"If it please my Lord," Garvin says, stepping forward after Rona has finished. "I was present in the Quill and Tankard last night as well, and Bravo Vielo has the right of it. Ser Bolton was minding his own affairs when he was accosted by seven men, some of whom bared steel until he barkeep cried them to sheathe. Even then, Ser Mikhal gave the men ample opportunity to depart, but they refused and insisted upon harassing them. I agree the knight's actions were brutal, but also that it was the best way to handle the situation, before it became out of hand. If I'm not mistaken, the one ruffian may even live." He neglects to mention that it was his gold that bought a room for the unfortunate man, and he that send Bryn to the Citadel after a maester to tend the man's wounds, but none of that is really at issue here.

Mikhal regards the testimony given in his favor with a neutral expression. Though he gives Gavin and Rona a nod of appreciation.

Ormund rubs his forehead for a moment, listening to both of those who have more to add. When they have finished, he remains silent for a good long moment, before simply saying, "Thank you both for your words." he says slowly with a small nod, before standing up from his throne with a small sigh, "This is my ruling." he starts looking at everyone, "I feel it is both fair and just." he continues, "First on the topic of the Quill and Tankard." he says starting to walk towards everyone, "It seems to be creating a good deal of trouble, as I keep hearing things about it." he says nodding, "Perhaps the wise thing to do would be to have it close it door's permanently."
"However, I feel this can be resolved by other means, from tonight forward, two Watchman will be posted at the Tavern, the tavern will have the option to close it's door if it does not comply and will be charged an increase tax, due to pulling resources from the city." he starts with a small nod, "Since they can not seem curve the violence on their own, this action will also happen at any other Establishments that can not seem to handle it's patrons." he says slowly with a nod, "Next any establishment that even after Watchman are placed that seem to be incapable of curving the violence will close it's doors… permanently." he says nodding slowly looking at everyone, "Now if people wish to take their violence into the streets." he starts shaking his head, "Now I will not have that either, I will not have Oldtown turn into a brawling pit, if one wishes for violence they can take it to the Tournament grounds."
"Violators, will be jailed til either Archmaester Lukins states the grip of bloodlust or grip of drink leaves them." He says nodding, "Any damages created by violators, will be paid for, the Fine will be determined by case paid to the city, if one can not pay, they will be jailed for the amount they have remaining on their balance." he says nodding, "Now the events that have transpired tonight, those guilty will be punished by these standards." he says with a small wave of his hand turning to walk back to his thrown, "That is my ruling." he says before sinking back into the Throne.

Ormund, nods as no one says anything on his ruling. "The violators of tonight's incident, will be imprisoned, as stated til the grip of bloodlust or drink leaves them." he says slowly with a nod, "They will return all money extorted from the Sept once released, then will pay for all damages from the incident. Then they will be require to pay, 20 Silvers, each to the City." he says with a small nod, "If they are short any funds, they will be imprisoned, a day for each silver they lack." Ormund says, as he gets up, "Court is dismissed." he says, saying something to one of his advisors before simply moving to leave.

Millicent has remained at Lord Hightowers side for the rest of the ordeal. There will no doubt be new sorts of rumors swirling around that the Sea Witch has the Lord Hightower enchanted now. But she drifts along behind Ormund on his exit.

Trystan nods at the Lord's ruling. He and his men then move to try to assist Jebediah, see if they can help in some way.

Garvin seems satisfied that Lord Hightower's judgement is a just one, giving a small nod and bowing when Ormund leaves.

Garvin sweeps the ridiculous hat back onto his head, then falls to silent bickering with Ser Marcys. "But you heard him! There'll be watch guards in the tavern now, so there won't be any more violence. And I was never in any real danger! If you don't believe me, ask Lady Mormont or her man, Eonn." The Leash doesn't look pleased, but can't come up with a good excuse for forbidding his lord from his folly.

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