(121-04-22) Appletree Answers
Appletree Answers
Summary: Embry accidentally draws the attention of a few curious nobles who notice her nerves, and her colours.
Date: 22/04/2014
Related: None

Hightower and Citadel Streets Oldtown

Here Hightower Street's course curves from its upper East-West run to follow the river. The narrower River Road continues North, past The Citadel and out the Honey Gates to follow the riverbanks all the way North to Brightwater Keep.

The northern course of the Honeywine is slender and deep. The banks of the river have been improved in a number of places, walling it in to keep it narrow enough to be easily spanned by narrow bridges of stone and timber. Small streams spill into it here and there, some from the surface and some from tunnels running under the streets.

Another cobblestone road leads Northwest to where the Citadel squats alongside the river forebodingly, all stony and thick-walled. Perhaps a quarter mile downriver from the Citadel's narrow Acolytes' Gate is the old Quill and Tankard, that famous inn that has never closed in six hundred years. It stands on a little island not far out into the Honeywine, accessible by a small foodbridge. Most the buildings further South of the inn are far newer, and sparkling clean. Large, expensive manses shrouded in gardens and shrubbery overlook the river.

Hightower Street is wide, clean, and lined on either side with apple trees and stone benches. The river-boats that travel this area are quite finely crafted, with luxurious furnishings, bright new paint, and sound timbers. Looking south, one can see the blazing beacon of the Hightower looming over the city.

The shops here cater to those with rich tastes. Baubles, jewelry, silks, satins, finely wrought armor and armaments, and varies other shiny things meant to catch the eye of well-to-do city-dwells with stags or dragons burning holes in their purses.


Young Embry waits on the cobblestone road near one of the many apple trees. Young is an ambiguous term for this girl, who at one glance looks barely a woman and at another could be ten-and-eight years, her height diminutive and her features naive and youthful on a face that's easily looked over. Her dress is plain and poor, yet her dull blonde hair is woven into the fine, elaborate braids of a lady, intertwined with orange and red, gold-trimmed ribbons, her whole look slightly incongruous; Martell colours, though there are few who would recognize them. Embry looks about as far from Dornish as anyone could.

She also looks about as nervous as anyone could, looking this way and that as though alternately watching for someone she wants to see and wants to hide from, occasionally patting the rain from her carefully arranged hair.

Stepping down the street, from the direction of the River Road, Ludvik pauses for a few moments as he spots the girl near the apple tree, studying her carefully for a few moments now. Noting the Martell colors, and the non-Dornish look, which seems quite curious to him as he makes his way further along the street, about to pass close to where the girl is.

Luecas moves down the street as well looking far more Dornish in skin and hair than the girl in the Martell colors despite his own livery being distinctly a mixture of green, white and golds with the double headed eagle of House Graves across his chest. He walks at ease with a servant in tow carrying a list and various sacks.

Embry appears in a constant state of startle, yet when she happens to catch sight of the Lannister (how couldn't she, looking about as she has been for the past gods know how long), she startles all over again on top of her already frayed nerves. She looks at him a second, more purposeful time, making sure she's seen his colours right, before her head ducks down and her eyes skirt away, yet some ingrained instinct compels her, skittishly respectful, to say "m'lord" quietly as he's about to pass, her voice small and hoarse and low-born.

Ludvik pauses as he sees Embry's reaction, coming to a stop again as he studies her for a few moments now. "Is there something wrong?" he asks, keeping his words quiet as he speaks. Watching her carefully for a few seconds longer, before he speaks again. "You wear the colors of House Martell, yet you do not look Dornish. This makes me a little curious, I must admit."

Luecas stops to consult with his servant a moment before sending the man on his way to see to matters and then he too makes his way towards the apple tree and the two nearby. He stops a few paces away and watches a moment in silence.

"No, m'lord," Embry hurries to answer, clasping the sides of her skirt to quell any nervous gestures. She's yet to look up. "I'm," she hems, eager to explain but wary. Her gaze jumps to the Graves man, though she's hesitant to look away from Ludvik's general vicinity, even if it's the cobbled ground around his feet. She seems to study Luecas, trying, perhaps, to determine his heritage. She tips her chin up as she regard Ludvik again, squaring her shoulders, made more square by the square cut of her gown's collar, seeming to think she needs to look braver. "I work for the Dornish household here in Oldtown, m'lord. For a Martell princess." A few weeks ago that admission might've gotten her beaten in the street, by some. She's not sure that's changed.

Ludvik nods a little as he hears that, offering a brief smile now. "Ah, I see." A brief pause, before he offers a quiet smile now. "Well, your secret is safe with me," he offers, a bit lightly.

Luecas approaches the two further with a small smile on his face ad his hands going to be clasped behind his back. "Forgive my ignorance, but I have just arrived in Old Town. You say there is a Martell Princess in residence?"

"It ain't a secret," Embry insists, personality shining through, a flare of defensive pride for her controversial employ. She looks down after the fact, realizing she ought to be grateful. " — m'lord. Ain't nothin' to be ashamed of, is all, despite what people say," she says, quieter, her shouders shifting. She's glad for the approach of the other man— it gives her something to answer instead of letting her mouth get away on her. She nods, a small and eager bob. "A few, m'lord, there are."

Ludvik nods a little. "That is quite correct," he offers to Embry, before he adds, "One should be proud of one's employers." Turning to offer a nod to Luecas, he studies the man for a few moments now.

Luecas quirks a brow upwards just a fraction. "Why would it be something to be ashamed of? The Martells are an old and proud House.. I am sure they have little to do with the roving bands of marauders along the border." He smiles slghtly as he says this and then looks towards Ludvil to give the Lannister a small nod of his head in greeting.

Despite being so insistent before, Ludvik's response prompts one of Embry's skirting, nervous looks, holding back from speaking her mind, this time. She stares at some detail of his garb and swallows and widens her rounded eyes on the newcomer. "Aye, m'lord. But that don't seem to matter to some 'round the Reach. Ain't you heard about the Trial of the Seven?" She keeps her gaze high (she's so short, it has to be), but her expression utterly falls at the words; the memory. She practically pales beneath her freckles. "My princess's been held by the Tyrells, waiting for a ransom to come through."

Ludvik nods, as he listens now, "I heard about the Trial." A brief pause, before he looks to Embry again, offering a quiet nod. "Which of the princesses would that be?" he asks, after a few brief moment of pause.

Luecas shakes his head, "I have not… I am afraid I have literally just arrived in the city mere hours ago." He glances over towards Ludvik a moment wen he presses for info about the particular Martells and contents himself to wait for the answer as well.

The smallfolk girl can't seem to help the protective, suspcious blink to the Lannister. Luecas waiting puts more pressure — percieved pressure, at least — on her to answer; she looks and feels small, dwarfed by the nobles and the nearby apple tree. She swallows again, and her throat tightens. After a long hesitation, she answers, little voice cracking, "Princess— Mariya."

Seeing that suspicious blink, Ludvik pauses for a few moments, before he hears the name mentioned. "Ah, I do not believe I have had the pleasure to meet her yet," he says, nodding a little bit now.

Luecas nods slightly, "nor I. You'd said there are several Martells in the city? Is there a large Dornish presence then?" His manner is pleasant enough and his tone casual. Though his questions may be probing his body language is non-threatening.

Tytos approaches the intersection, seeing the young lady looking distressed he frowns and begins approaching cautiously, the older nobleman's hand hovering near the hilt of his sword as he does.

"Princess Mariya is good 'n' kind," Embry offers, and it swells with sincerity rather than the practiced manners of a servant. "There're some, m'lord," she answers Luecas, "More, since some've come in to help their kin, what with everything's gone on after Lord Blackmont and all were accused with the Cockshaw thing," she poorly summarizes events. She pauses. " — which— weren't true." The Trial of the Seven said different. Embry wrings the fabric of her skirt.

Ludvik nods a little now as he listens to what's being said, expression a bit thoughtful as he does. He doesn't say much more at the moment, just listening to what's being said now.

Luecas nods as well and then turn to see his servant returning from his errand with a bit more weight in one of te sacks he was carrying. "thanks you for the information." He offers them both a small nod and then moves off with man to be about the rest of his business.

Tytos watches Lucas depart hand still resting on the hilt he asks, "Is everything alright here M'lords?"

Embry nods to Luecas, a tentative smile on her thin lips. She affects a small curtsey as he heads off. Her gaze searches around beyond Ludvik — searching for someone who isn't here — and when a new face unexpectedly approaches from another direction, she partially contains a small jump. She breathes in and out, slowly, impossibly on-edge. She nods respectfully to Tytos, despite her skittishness, and tucks an escaped wisp from one of her braids — woven with sunny Martell-hued ribbons, the start of this all — off her forehead.

Looking over as he hears Tytos, Ludvik offers the man a quiet smile. "Everything seems to be alright," he offers, with a quiet smile. Looking back to Embry again, he nods a little to her now.

Tytos looks to Embry himself, since she seemed to be the damsel in distress a few moments before, his hand has not yet moved away from his belt, "Is that true lass, everything ok?" He raises a eyebrow but his eyes also soften and he allows a smile to creep in.

Embry nods quickly to the new man. "We was just— talking, is all. I were just waiting for someone." She tries to smile at Ludvik. It's thin and lop-sided, but a half-decent attempt. "I'm sorry, m'lord," she regrets the apology as soon as she's said it, as it means she has to explain, "It's been awhile since I saw a Lannister. You are a Lannister, ain't you?"

"I am, yes," Ludvik replies as he hears Embry's words. "Unless my Lord Uncle suddenly decided to kick me out of the family, but I do not think he would do that." Spoken a bit lightly, before he adds, "I should apologize for startling you, though."

Tytos relaxes his hand moving away from the weapon, "well then I apologies for interupting. Lord Lannister, Lass, if you will excuse me." He turns away.

"It ain't no bother," Embry replies, sounding sincere even though she was clearly startled. "I served in the Westerlands before," she adds with a sudden purpose that then fades self-consciously, leaving the statement just floating there. She clamps her mouth shut, lips thin, until telling Tytos, with a slight curtsey, "Kind'a you, m'lord."

"You have?" Ludvik sounds a little curious now. "If I may ask, where in the Westerlands?" A nod is offered to Tytos as well, "Of course, My Lord."

Oh no, now she's gone and opened herself up to more questions. Embry's gaze skirts to its very corners before she catches herself appearing altogether more suspicious than she has any right to be, and composes herself. For the most part. "The— uh— well, it were the Tooth."

Ludvik nods as he hears that, offering a quiet smile now. "I went there a few times when I was a squire," he says, a bit quietly. Nodding a bit as he listens. "A fine place."

Embry tries to nod in agreement, but the motion gets stuck somewhere along the way, and she just goes stiff. "I didn't see much of it," she admits, despite working there; an uneasy contradiction. The pleasantry in her voice is forced. "But I saw some Lannisters and Leffords. And gold. A lot've gold." She backs up a little step, almost unconscious. "I ought to be on my way, m'lord," she tells Ludvik hesitantly, not used to being in charge of her own comings and goings.

"Of course," Ludvik replies as he listens, before he offers a brief smile. "Before you go, would you tell me your name?" he asks.

"Embry," she answers, easy to oblige it, brightening slightly.

Ludvik nods, smiling as he hears the name. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Embry. I am Ser Ludvik," he says, offering her a nod.

"Ser!" She should've been saying that all along, her exclaimation states. She nods deeply, extending all the way into an over-eager curtsey. "Ser Ludvik," she repeats, hurried but pleasant, before turning to scurry on her way beneath the apple trees.

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