(121-04-09) Learning and Calumny
Learning and Calumny
Summary: Carolis and Amadys, two learned gentlemen, meet Sera, a new arrival - and each other.
Date: (09/04/2014)
Related: None


It's hard to miss a fine lady and a meat mountain. Carolis, curious fellow that he is, angles in their direction as though he just happened to be going that way. When he's within a polite distance to do so, he inclines his head to Sera and says, "Good day." Gromm gets a glance, and his brows lift. Not a greeting per se, but there is an unspoken 'daaaaamn.'

Riotous laughter. Extravagant garments. A certain spoor in the air, heady but not altogether unpleasant, of the sort exuded by mildly drunk, generously pursed young men. Amadys Baratheon, acolyte of the Citadel, and three or four of his usual crowd of malingering squires and impressionable novices are at hand. Their 'captain' himself sports light blue cambric today, with a slash of gold across the shoulders to remind the observant viewer, along with his stag signet and everything about the way he looks, speaks, and acts, of his origins.

Detaching himself slightly from his 'friends', Amadys glances about with darting, fitful dark-blue eyes. The enormous wildling is a common enough sight about the city streets by now; not so the…foxy lady…no other words for it…or the Stark scion, whom Amadys has heard of only by repute. He approaches their gathering with a broad, thoughtless smile and a light nod.

Gromm looks over his shoulder to the approaching northerner, taking note as the pirate at his side shrugs, "It's accurate..". Gromm looks back over to the woman, tilting his head over to the right as his eyes drift off to the sky, "Only time will tell." he simply says, the eagle resting upon his left arm looking over to watch Carolis as he drifts over with a piercing, silent gaze.

"Man of many words," Sera returns towards Gromm with a light chuckle. As Carolis offers his greeting, Sera flashes him a brighter smile as she tilts her head, "Good day, my lord." Her eyes flick up to Gromm, realizing they probably make an odd pair. "If you could tell me your side of things, Gromm, I would greatly appreciate it. I will gladly pay you for your time." She doesn't notice Amadys' approach just yet.

"It has already gotten a bit brighter," Carolis says to Sera with a warm, somewhat wry smile. His gaze flits to Gromm when the meat mountain's name is mentioned. "You're Gromm," he says. He considers the wildling, quick and calculating without ever really losing that warm smile. "I've heard of you. Good things."

"Really? Cause I haven't." Says Gromm as he looks Carolis, before looking back to the lady. "I would, but it is becoming late, and I must return to Peri," he says, lifting his left arm so the eagle using it as a perch may take off, the only sound it makes is the small, thunderous sounds of its wings. "Perhaps another time." He offers, the pirate at his side beginning to make for the other direction, past the lady as Gromm turns on his heels, glancing to Amadys, considering him for a second before looking in-front of him once more, "Until we meet again." He simply says, as he begins making for Harbour Street, to the north east.

"My lord of Stark!" The acolyte's voice is rich and melodic, but already altered by the toll of dissipation, though from his looks the Baratheon can scarcely be twenty as yet. "We of the Citadel have heard much, guessed more, of your coming," he adds jovially, swinging long, light arms at his side; his right hand flashes with that signet, and a single copper link.

"I rode with your lord brother not long past, in search of Cressen Glover. They say you have an interest in the study of the past? History's the only discipline I'm on top of myself. But forget the past, what of the present? I'm Amadys, born to House Baratheon. And I'd be honoured and delighted if you'd introduce me to your radiant friend over here."

Amadys smiles again, this time with obvious directness upon the Damsel of the Vulpine Pelt…!

As Gromm sets off, Sera turns towards Carolis. "That went better than I expected," she murmurs mildly. At Amadys' approach and announcement, Sera grins widely. "Acolytes then, how marvelous. You both must know of my brother, though he is still new he is very eager. Lord Ryce Florent, the ears give him away," she teases lightly, her grin turning wicked.

Carolis's shoulders shake with a silent laugh as Gromm takes his leave. "Is he an acquaintance of yours?" he asks Sera. Then his attention turns to Amadys, and his brows lift in pleasant surprise. "Did you?" he says, "I wish I'd seen him long enough to hear the story. We crossed paths on the road and only briefly, I'm afraid. You'll have to tell me the details." His quick eyes look to the rings, signet and copper. "That's right. History, in fact, and languages. What a pleasure to meet you, Lord Amadys. To Sera, he adds, "I've not met your brother, Lady. Perhaps you would arrange an introduction?"

"The Citadel's a sprawling place, my lady, but I shall watch out for such a promising young man. House Florent were firm allies of my late father, …wasn't there even a wedding somewhere in't?" Amadys rattles off vaguely. "And the valour and…ardour…of your kinsman Ser Abram are already renowned." Though the compliment is fine enough, Amadys's pale features go just a little paler as he touches on that subject, and moves on swiftly.

"Aye, my lord Carolis, 'twould be naught but a pleasure…but it's a damned queer story, and, as yet, one without an ending. As it happens, I fished Glover out of the marsh myself, with scarcely a breath left in him. My arts are humble," he goes on, without a trace of humility, "but I was the only leech of any kind with the party…save the wriggling sort…and I got him back on his feet. They say his mind remained broken; a harder sickness to cure, and above my little skill, to be sure. So," he concludes slyly with a slightly sharp question, "are they to set you to forging a chain too, my lord of Stark? Or are you to have the fruit of learning without its…limitations?"

"Not much of one, I'm afraid," Sera returns about Gromm before shifting the focus back onto her brother. "I would love to, if I coud pull him away from the books and scrolls long enough. Maybe you would have a better chance at that than I did. I am Lady Sera Florent, please excuse my manners." At the mention of a wedding, her eyes widen before Sera smiles. "Why yes! My sister is married to a Baratheon. She has been treated so well, your house has been nothing but welcoming. I hear she may be praying for another child soon too." She prattles on, but his paleness is noted. "My cousin is a character, I hope all is well…?" Her tone lifts up questioningly at the end before she quirks her eyebrows at the story, her eyes flicking back and forth between the Stark and the Baratheon.

Carolis clucks his tongue and says, "If only the mind were as resilient as it was broad." At the question of chains, his glance goes again to the copper and he says, "Goodness, no. I'm afraid until my brother weds and blesses our House with a half dozen sons, I must keep my options open." He offers a tight smile. "Which is to say keep them closed for a very specific misfortune, may it never come. I merely come to broaden my mind." To Sera, he says, "Lord Carolis Stark, brother to the Lord of Winterfell. Perhaps we can lure your brother away from his books with the promise of more books? I've brought a few from home I don't think they've got here."

"I don't your cousin personally, alas. But I'm told he's a lion in the field and a lamb in the chamber. Or mayhaps a fox in the both," Amadys quips drily. "It's more of a question of whether things will be well…but I think the betting men are by and large in Ser Abram's favour. Ask Wulfred the Dunner, should you meet him. He's habitually drunker than I am by a gallon or three, but he'll know the latest odds for this Trial, on a certain…"

His answer to Carolis is more rueful. "My brother has only daughters, so far, but I am still considered, by and large, dispensable to our noble line. Our new Lord of Storm's End somehow got it into his head that I was trying to father a son myself…on my good-sister. So here I am; but it's not a bad sort of place, so far. Beats being bruised by hulking fools in a dusty yard, anyway."

"Well that is good to hear. I should participate in that bet, though I know my cousin will decimate his competition, like a fox in the chicken house." She continues the imagery with a grin. Sera then blinks at the mention of Amadys and his brother's wife, her eyes widening before she winces and shakes her head. She remains quiet however, glancing towards Carolis.

Carolis's lips part to speak. Then he snaps his mouth shut. He just needs a moment or two to process that. He clears his throat delicately. "Yes, well. I'm sure someone is exaggerating somewhere along the way, Lord Amadys. Still, if it keeps you off the bit chair, hmm?" His gaze drifts about the street, and he says, "This isn't a bad place. It's a bit warm." He grimaces up at the sky. He's still lily pale. He hasn't been outside in the day often enough to get any color to him yet. When he glances back to them, it's with a warm, guileless smile. Innocent Northerner. "Lady Sera, perhaps you would enlighten me about this Trial of which you both speak?"

Hitherto so blithe and confident - his courage possibly slightly supplemented by good gold wine - Amadys now looks just a shade dismayed as his new and comely Florent acquaintance evidently shrinks back; too late, he is aware of having said distinctly too much. "Calumny is a poisoned blade," he mumbles. "I pray, my lady, that you never have felt, never shall feel, its touch. But if you have, then I have no doubt you will understand my plight…such as it is…" He trails off at that, his Durrendon blue stare directed, uncharacteristically, at the ground.

Watching Amadys' reaction, Sera's grin returns softly. "Lord Amadys, I have had more experience with calumny than you can ever realize. Its how I learned that blades are far more cleaner in their violence than words are." She glances back at Carolis, answering him after a moment's thought. "Unfortunately I am just as ignorant. All I have heard is that there is a trial, to deal with the incident involving the Cockshaws and the Dornes. All I know is that my cousin has been one of the selected, along with Ser Laurent Tyrell, Ser Kevyn Cockshaw and…another Lord Cockshaw, I don't recall his name at the moment. However they are still recruiting." Sera slides her eyes back towards Amadys, "Perhaps you have heard? I don't recall who will be on the opposing team either." Noting just how dark it has gotten, the Florent lady raises her hood up and delicately covers her intricate hair. "If you will expose me, my Lords. I hope to see you again, but alas it is late and I would rather not worry my poor cousins."

Recovering most of his composure, and flicking a stray black lock from his line of sight, Amadys shrugs unconcernedly. "Maybe that hotheaded Hightower, Ser Brynden, upon your cousin's party? And for their foes…Dornishmen, of course…spears and so on…but, well. It depends. Ser Osric Dayne and his magic sword and a Targaryen prince or two might cause a certain amount of trouble. And most of it, indeed, involving words, not swords."

He shrugs. "Forgive me, I scarce intend to be a cold comforter. I shan't witness the wrangle myself, and if I were you I'd keep out of its way too. The best we can hope for is that someone fails to find their seven, and the whole affair falls to pieces." He nods with easy gratitude to the Stark cadet, "Aye, I know Lord Pansy of old! Who could forget his brief interlude of power as Voice of Oldtown, eh? It has been a pleasure to mingle with you both. But I am keeping much less exalted, if older, acquaintances waiting. Until some other tide!" He bows his leavetaking and rejoins the other tipsy young revellers…

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