(121-04-28) I Don't Think That Means What You Think
I Don't Think That Means What You Think
Summary: Quillian pays a visit to the Targaryen Manse to issue a formal challenge
Date: Date of play (28/04/2014)
Related: The Promise of Anguish to Come
Players:
Quillian..Ryzael..Daevon..

This is a grand and enormous manse maintained by the Targaryen family for royals and their guests when they happen to wish to stay in Oldtown.

The house faces the prestigious Starry Street. The first story is protected by narrow high windows that stop people from seeing inside, but the windows on the back wall and the four upper stories are tall and wide, making the manse bright and airy over all.

The first floor's main hall is brightly lit with lamps to make up for the shortcomings of those windows, and the walls are covered in rich tapestries depicting dragons, and the acts of Aegon the Conqueror and his sisters. There's a grand dining room separated from the entry hall by a great arch formed by carved stone dragons, and another such arch leads to a smaller, though still huge by most standards, sitting room. Everything is opulent, beautifully made, and as luxurious as befits the royal family.

There are other sitting rooms up in the floors above, as well as bedchambers, game rooms, and even private baths. Like almost all of the houses in Oldtown, it shares two walls with its neighbors on either side, but the servants quarters, kitchens, and servant's stairs buffer the house proper from any noise that could possibly leak through the thick stone walls.

There's a large and gracious walled garden in the back, and wide windows open to it. Those on the upper stories have balconies.


The warmth and humidity of the day wears on. This finds many with the idle wealth to do so indoors, no doubt. Ryzael being no exception. He lounges and works in the library, a variety of large texts open with small objects or implements to hold them open just so are arrayed around him. On a seperate table, well removed from the valuable tomes, is a large pitcher of orange-water, chilled, with several glasses. The Prince himself works over some manner of manuscript that he is writing, referencing the many tomes. Several servants are in attendance, some bearing large fans which they lightly work with expert hands, another by the table with the refreshment awaiting any need.

Ryzael takes notes, referencing back forth, as he works. His focus is quite heavily on whatever task he has to hand, just now.

Daevon is generally not found in the library and today is no exception. The heat and the humidity suit him well enough. He's searching, gazing into various rooms rather than send a servant for whomever or whatever he's looking for.

Overcast oft means here in the Reach, that a storm is brewing. And likely, over the Dragon Door Manse, there are clouds gathering-however with them come no thunder to signal any relief. Instead the only rumble would come to the door, before a servant's soft steps down the hall can be heard, and then nothing. After a few moments, a slender young man with black hair is there at the door to the library, softly clearing his throat once. "Ser Quillian Oakheart to see you, Your Grace." and like that the young man is gone before a man bedecked in greens and blacks fills the door of the Library.

For his part, in the heat-the Oakheart knight seems quite at ease, even if there may be some sweat clinging to him, he doesn't appear to be uncomfortable. However the frown the Blackrood does wear is enough to show displeasure, there's a brief glance to where the servant went off towards before he comes further in without. Eyes do slide to Daevon, of who the knight is familiar with-and a nod is given, as one hand slips to the belt where his sword hangs, and the other slides behind his back in an easy perch. "Ryzael Targaryen." he names out in the room. "A word." his tone is not some frothing shout, but likely a similar tone of command knights are oft used to.

Daevon returns that nod of greeting, but he does not speak. This is a matter between these two men after all. He is most definitely not getting involved.

A servant, preceding Quillian and announcing him, does indeed make a departure after the formalities are complete. Ryzael looks up from his work afterwards, making a slight nod. "Show him in." he says. He looks towards the attending servant by the refreshment table, making a 'come here' gesture with one hand. When the man draws closer he says a few soft-spoken words into the man's ear. That finished he puts down his pen, then flips the small lid to his ink-bottle closed with a quick motion. Taking a breath, he leans back a bit in his chair, his eyes opening more widely as he seems to gather his thoughts. "Come in then, Ser." he says mildly. "I hadn't expected you, though now that you have come I am not overmuch surprised either." he says, a mild smile crossing his lips. "I will certainly hear your words."

There's a glance spared in the direction of the incoming servant and then he is looking back towards the Prince. A twist of his lips, before his spurs sound along the carpet in a bit of a jingle, but the knight doesn't come too much further into the room. "Hadn't? Well, I suppose you a fool then, for if I had insulted your sister, threatened her, and had to be restrained from striking her: That I would see meen in Targaryen colours soon enough." Quillian says with a laugh that lacks any humor behind it. A sniff, and the Knight looks around the room briefly, before turning to his side and shifting his weight.

"Aye you will, and if you stop listening, I'll be sure to write them in big letters, spaced apart so you can read them." The Blackrood keeps focus now to Ryzael alone. "You owe my sister an apology, and I would have you give it her, otherwise we will have more than words."

Daevon's silent as any guard as he keeps an eye on proceedings.

Ryzael thrums his fingers on the table before him for a moment, his eyes and expression betraying very little by way of reaction to Quillian's words. After a moment he sighs softly, scratching his chin. "I had hoped matters would not come to this, yet it appears they have regardless." he says. He reaches over amongst the pile of papers on the table and sorts out two in particular. These he sets before him. This takes a few moments, during which the servant formerly by the refreshments table, spoken to a moment ago, makes his way out of the room. "The first you should be familiar with. It is the letter you sent to Ser Daevon, concerning this matter." he says, quirking a brow as he eyes the thing before. "You chose your words rather poorly there, as now." he adds, shaking his head. The servant now returns, sliding into the room to resume his post. However, he does not return alone.

Dyrick, Ryzael's serjeant, and several additional guardsmen become visible waiting at the entranceway to the library. The serjeant eyes all of those present and settles on his feet for a moment, as the Prince speaks.

Ryzael continues. "You, I think, will come to learn to pick your words with greater care. This letter threatens my person, and does not otherwise contain any manner of challenge, legal or otherwise. The same as you have with casual ease threatened me here in now." he says. Slowly he draws himself up to his feet, taking another breath before speaking. "I will then answer you thus. Your sister was rude to me, and deserved the words she received. I doubt however you are interested in discussing that. As for yourself, I give you now, this one chance to withdraw your threat, apologize for having made it, and remove yourself from my presence. If you do not, I will have you arrested and held here, pending further action. I expect your attitude may change after a few days of confinement."

Daevon steps out of the room, still within earshot though to flag down a servant, who he offers a quick message to. And another, who he sends off with a second message.

"I am hardly surprised." A look over his shoulder, back towards the guardsmen, and then over to Ryzael. Quillian glances towards Daevon, and then back toward Ryzael. "I am sorry to see a man, so frightened of ink." A turn there and he looks back towards Ryzael ever so briefly. "As you have me outnumbered five to one-then allow me this: I do apologize for my way with words, as I would never wish to threaten a dragon." his tone dripping. "And do withdraw any threat you have percieved, as that was not my intention. As I would never wish harm on our ruling family." A glance is given there towards Daevon. "And I will excuse myself. However, before I do. Let it be known, that I formally challenge Ryzael Targaryen-over threat to my sister and House, to be answered at the date of his choosing, or he can simply write an apology to her, if he cannot face her and give one. An apology to cover threat of violence and else against her and House Oakheart." There all done in the room before witnesses.

"I'll await your answer on that-and please note that my Household and those of my companions know I cam here, in such a case a challenge would be treated falsely." And there he straightens. "Shall I show myself out, Your Grace or would you rather discuss this percieved insult?" Obviously talking about Johanna's and not the other.

Ryzael 's eyes flick back towards Daevon for a moment, giving the man a nod. "That would be just, do much to repair matters." Then back to Quillian. "Your words wring as hollow as I expected. Mmm." he says, frowning slightly. A moment passes as he considers his words. "I'm not generally inclined to explain myself, but I'll give you this. Your sister interrupted a conversation I was having with someone else. A conversation where I was expressing concern over my then recently wounded Uncle. She did so to express, in quite rude, vulgar, and insulting terms how she wished my Uncle 'had' died, and that he deserved to have done so." he says. There he pauses a moment, perhaps to let that sink in. "Consider your own reaction over such an affront, Ser. I do not think it would be mild."

Ryzael looks down, a slight grimace covering his features before he speaks again. "I do not blame you for your desire to defend your kin. It is a sentiment I laud and obviously hold strongy myself. Your sister however was quite plainly in the wrong. If anything I deserve an apology from her, and you should be concerned about the image of your House over this entire affair. I have given you this chance to withdraw, and not to trouble me with this matter any further. Purely out of consideration for the fact that you act out of similar sentiment as to mine own. I am not generally so generous. Do not make me see such mercy as wasted on you, you will regret it Ser. If things escalate…" he says, motioning to the second document on the table before him. "I will sign and take official action with this complaint of your threats. It will be sent to the Crown, and I will absolve myself of responsibility for what befalls you by the actions of your own tongue. Ser, out of respect for your gallantry and honor, I give you this chance. Bend The Knee."

"Yes, and such words are not a crime to wish a criminal death. Regardless to her feelings or my own on Maelys-that is no excuse to raise your hand to strike a woman, or threaten her with Blood, tears and anguish." Quillian states and there he looks back towards Ryzael. In normal circumstances I would agree that my sister was rude-and would force the issue. However it went out the window the moment you raised your hand to strike her and further threatened her person. To that I challenge you-as witnessed here by these men." Whether words were an affrot or not, Quillian doesn't seem to back down.

"Yes, write the Crown that I challenged you to a duel over the bodily threat of a woman, and then that you had me arrested. I am sure the King will find that all very important. But challenging for a duel is not against the law." Quillian adds before he is looking to the guards and then back to Ryzael. "It is this simple. Apologize for threatening to strike my kin and promising her what you did-and then there is no threat to challenge." Clearly the Blackrood is set in his way. "Otherwise- if you felt Just in needing to strike a lady, then the challenge stands and you can feel just striking at a knight."

Daevon's back to being silent, watching the two men.

Ryzael quirks a brow, frowning and finally shaking his head. "Very well then. On your head be it. You were given more chances than you deserved perhaps." he says, before he leans forward and signs the document. Then his eyes flick up towards Dyrick, the serjeant, as he speaks again. "Take him. Disarm him, confine him to one of the suites as befits his station, and treat him with all honor unless ordered directly otherwise." he says. Then he is already reseating himself in his chair, with no more attention for Quillian should nothing untoward break out.

"No," Daevon says, one word quietly spoken. "You will not be arresting him here. You will not be holding him prisoner here. You should not have said what you did to his sister, nor tried to hit her. She should not have interupted your conversation and wished death upon your dear friend. Both actions were inappropriate. Ser Quillian has already apologised for the contents of his letter. This would be easily resolved if both of you were to just apologise to eachother."

"You're more the fool than I would think." Quillian states before grinning over to the Sergeant. And there, he reaces for his sword belt. there carefully removing it to pass along. "Mayhaps, that is why you did not make your Maester chains as they say…" Whatever rumor that would be Still a brief nod is given towards Daevon. "Ser. I am glad you're no man who hides behind cowardice." And with that sword and dagger are passed over, before he is pausing as Daevon speaks up. A look is given the Serjeant and he keeps his hand on his blade.

Well, we'll see where this is going.

Ryzael 's eyes narrow as his attention shifts towards Daevon, before he frowns at the other man. "It is not your decision, cousin. Though I respect your sentiment. I already gave him two chances. If there comes a third it will wait to brew while he steeps a bit." he says. "I will gladly hear your counsel, yet I will not have you interfere." he says. Then he turns back towards Quillian. "I am neither Knight nor Maester, by choice. I do not value 'feats of arms' as you do. Nor would I wear such an abominable chain if it were offered to me. I am a Wisdom of the Alchemist's Guild, and proud to bear 'that' name." he says, his tone softspoken yet dark none the less. He gestures for the guardsmen to proceed. "Ser Daevon, my complaint and his offense are real and legal. I would call on you not to interfere."

"I value many things, Ryzael Targaryen. And my sister's honor and well-being is chief amongst them." Quillian states, though he's not handed over his blade just yet. Rather he is waiting to see what is decided by the two dragons in this matter. "But, perhaps you should stick to Alchemy, Your Grace. You'll find it less complicated than the law. As in this matter A duel is no threat-unless you are a coward who hits women and hides behind his name." Likely the words do nothing to help the situation. There's a brief look to Daevon. "If I am not being unlawfully arrested, may I go? I have dinner promised my wife."

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