(121-02-01) The Streets of Oldtown
The Streets of Oldtown
Summary: Ser Viggo Cockshaw and his squire, Kevyn Cockshaw arrive in Oldtown under the duress of memory and the black of night.
Date: 08/02/2014.
Related: None

It is late when they arrive after two day's ride and Oldtown's misty streets nip coyly at exposed skin. The chill of the night settling on cloak, and glove, and cheek as they ride through the aged buildings towards where Ser Viggo Cockshaw recalls there being a tavern of well repute and better cider. "Just this way, I believe," he directs from atop his chestnut destier, patting the beast's neck. It is the third time this has been said, each turn weaving them deeper into the city's fold with the scent of the ocean biting the air with salty breezes. So directed, he takes another sip from his flask.

Kevyn is growing dubious of his Ser's recollection. He sits in the saddle with his cloak hunched around him, to give him as much protection from the misty night as he can manage. His horse is a plodding, utilitarian gray mare. No war animal, but he's not earned that yet. Or much else in the way of gear, save what essentials he's borrowed from his brother's old things. "I'm sure we're getting close, cousin," he says. He doesn't sound like he's being sarcastic.

Squinting into the dark of the night, his Ser cocks his head to one side as he hears a strain of music. "They add new streets every fortnight, young cousin," Viggo lies amiably, dipping his face with a tip of his hat towards his squire. Turning his horse in the direction of the sound, he urges it on through the street. "They can do that with cities so grand. I will admit, however," he adds, voice solemn and mouth not at all with a roguish curve, "That I have never found it sober."

"Aye, Ser. It's difficult work, I'm sure. Making up new streets, in the middle of old streets." Kevyn still doesn't sound sarcastic. The bit about sobriety earns a "Heh" from him. "There must be a hundred places to rent a room in Oldtown. Perhaps we should just find one that'll give us a dry bed for the night. I can find this Quill on the morrow while you're…err…sleeping." He adjusts the reins to jog his horse after Viggo, as the knight makes that turn toward the sound of music. "Sounds a merry city, at least."

"Terribly. It's how they get so many learned men in one city, giving them such a puzzle to attend to, lest they dull," Viggo counters calmly, scatching the side of his nose as he follows the path of a young maiden across the street. "There must. This one will do, though, Lad." It'll do. Provided they can find it, that is. "Tis, aye."

"Will we be taking rooms at the inn, Ser?" Kevyn asks. "Or do you plan on staying with…someone in the city while we're here? One of the noble houses, I mean." He tries to keep the question vague and casual. How successful he is at that is questionable. He's not a dumb lad, and he knows Viggo has a number of reasons drawing him to this city. He turns in the direction the knight is looking, watching said maiden, bobbing his head in an awkward nod to her. Whether she sees him or not.

The slight angle of his head causes his hat to shadow chipped features as Viggo turns to regard the road. It is a nod, but only a slight one. "We'll stay at the inn for the time. I would like to keep an ear to the city while we are here, harder to do such cloistered in a fair manor," he offers finally, lifting his flask to his mouth. His attention is not on the maiden for more than a minute, leaving her to bob girlishly for his squires appraisal in her full glory. Giggling she scurries out of the street and away from such fine gentlement.

Kevyn flushes when the maiden bobs at him, nodding again and smiling at her. As his horse moves on, following Viggo's largely of her own accord. She's a steady thing, even if she'd impress precisely no one at a tourney. The movement of riding finally jostles Kevyn's attention back to the road. He nods at the reply about the inn. "Fair by me, Ser. I've spent no real time in Oldtown since I was a boy too young to properly remember it. Jace says it's grand. With the Citadel and all the foreign lords and merchants from across the Narrow Sea."

Viggo's horse turns its head to look back at Kevyn's, checking in to see that the pair are following as he continues down the street. His tail flicks with a low whicker, jarring his knight's attention back to the conversation at hand. "Aye. Aye, it is grand. It's hard to see at night, all the colours of the ship's sails and the scent of the market. Your borther," Viggo pauses, swallowing and taking a drink from the flask at his side. "He told you true." Their path around the corner brings them within sight of an inn with its placard reading 'The Quill and Tankard.' A sight the knight misses momentarily for the comfort ofh is flask.

"Aye," Kevyn mutters, squinting as he sees something that might be their destination ahead. He tries not to look too surprised. He's behind Viggo, fortunately, so he has opportunity to hide it. "I…I think this is it, Ser." He dismounts, patting his mare's neck. "Looks a respectable enough place." He's not quite so good at hiding his surprise there.

"Ah! It is," Viggo agrees with a proud smile, looking every bit as if this was percisely where he intended to be at this Seven Blessed moment. "See cousin, only a few turns wrong." He dismounts in a swing of limbs, landing gallantly and promptly foisting his reigns onto his young companion. "Very proper and appopriate lad, wouldn't do to be too much otherwise," he opines. Never mind the places they've stayed in the past. This is Oldtown.

"Not bad for all the new streets, cous," Kevyn says, with the slightest of smiles. He leads his horse toward the stables, still talking a little behind Viggo. "I heard talk of a tournament on the road. Do you figure you'll enter?" He adds quickly, "Jace gave me a list of all the things a squire should do to see their knight prepared. I can manage it."

Mustache lifting with the edge of his smile, Viggo slaps his cousin on the back with a familial brusqueness. Cheeky. "Is there? I imagine I will. It'll be good training for you," he decides. Kevyn's addedum just leads to his nodding. "Well enough. I will see to our rooms. I'll expect you look to getting the details for the event on the morrow, lad."

"Aye…" Kevyn tries not to sound too dubious about it as a training opportunity, but he does add, "Looking forward to it, Ser" with a modicum of enthusiasm. "Aye, my lord, I'll see to it. I'll make sure our horses are properly stabled before I take to the rooms." And that the gear is unpacked and in decent condition, and that sort of thing. If nothing else, Kevyn works hard at the more drudgery-intensive squire tasks.

"It'll be good for you," Viggo says decisively, dipping his head at this certainty with a bob of feathers on his hat. Proper squire-type stuff tourneys. "Let it be done." Turning on his foot with an unsteady swirl of his cloak, the Ser Cockshaw strides towards the inn to purchase them rooms for their time in Oldtown. A flagon of that oft-spoken of cider will be awaiting his squire, trusting that the horses will be well cared for.

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