(121-05-08) North in South
North in South
Summary: Vidomir and Maege run into each other at the Fist and Falcon. They discuss Tourneys, bears and the Wall. Also, the ups and downs of decorating with flayed skin furniture
Date: 5/8/2014
Related: None

Fist and Falcon Tavern - Sphinx Street

It is a summer day. The weather is warm and stormy.

The Fist and Falcon's sign shows a gauntleted fist with a hooded falcon sitting on it. The establishment is a tavern only, and offers no sleeping rooms. It consists of a single, large, low-ceilinged room, the timbered walls covered with old smoke-stained plaster. It is decorated with battle-damaged shields and the mounted heads of stags and boar.

There's a single large fireplace along one wall, with a high hearth for seating. A heavy, battered wooden bar stands opposite. The rest of the room is occupied by weighty oaken tables, marred by generations of men picking their sigils into the wood with knife-tips.

The Fist caters to the tourney-ground crowd, being close enough that a man fresh from a fight and with a thirst on him need not go far to satisfy it. It offers meads, ales, ciders, and wines of all types. One can also buy hearty, simple food in large portions — thick brown stew, sausages, hot meat pies, and meats roasted with potatoes and onions.

It has been several days since the host that had set off to end the wildling threat returned triumphant to Oldtown, bringing with them the combined entourage of the Stark and Bolton heads of house as well as a decent showing of Northern men-at-arms and various sworn swords and the like. The Starks were lucky enough to have a foothold in the city and a home in the Weirwood manse. The Boltons, however, are currently displaced until their Lord can manage to find a manse large enough to accomodate them. In the meantime, it seems, Lord Vidomir is content to sample the food and ale and the Fist and Falcon, taking up three of the tables in the far corner of the tavern, two for his men, and one for him and an aid, with whom he seems to be in quiet conversation.

The Mormont's have their own small settlement at the Sailmaker Manse. While Ulyka and Maera were already established there, Maege is getting to know the city and her place in it. The middle Mormont has taken it upon herself to walk the streets and to get a feel for the place in her time after returning. It is all quite different from the North - not to mention oppressively hot - but the bear takes it in as much stride as she can. Stepping in to the Fist and Falcon, she has decided to try her hand at some of the local fare. The tall woman glances about, eyes lingering on the Boltons. She knows them from the march by sight, at least. Unwilling to interrupt, she merely bobs her head in acknowledgement toward the group.

Lord Bolton, for his part, looks utterly and completely bored with whatever it is the aid has to say, but he's dutifully listening to it all as he slowly tips back his mug of ale. As he does, however, he catches sight of someone far more interesting than livestock quotas and sets his mug back down on the table while gesturing for Maege to come join him. The aid glances over his shoulder to see Lady Maege and immediately takes the hint that Vidomir was finished for the day, or at least, for the moment. With a polite little bow and nod, he rises from his chair and makes for one of the other two table that the group has occupied.

As she had yet to order or find a table for herself, Maege nods her head again as she moves toward Vidomir's table. Seating herself, she glances at the other two tables filled with Northerners and then back toward Vidomir himself. "My Lord," she greets. "Strangely, I thought once I was in Oldtown I would not be surrounded by Northerners. It's a pleasant surprise, at least." She signals for a waitress to order herself a drink and a plate.

As soon as Maege takes a seat, Lord Bolton raises his eyes to her and nods his head in greeting. "Lady Maege… Yes, I know what you mean," he murmurs, following her gaze to the Boltons arrayed around them, "It is endlessly preferable to being surrounded by Southron lordlings whose idea of hardship revolves around a duel for a woman." He punctuates his seeming disgust with a sharp bite of the apple in his hand, returning his gaze to Maege. "I would like to see them duel for a Mormont Lady's hand. I'm sure you would be fiercer then the pair of Southern fools combined. You fought well, my Lady." Of course, he's referring to the Wildling outing here, giving her a brief nod of approval.

There's a snort. "If they would duel for a Mormont Lady's hand, they should be prepared for the Lady herself to be dueling." Maege's ale is delivered, though she is not quick to take a drink just yet. "Though, apparently my sister already showed the Southerners what one might expect from such a match." She has heard of the stint in the Tourney. The lady smirks just slightly. "I might argue with you, but am unable as I have yet to truly meet one of the softened lords myself. The Dornish lad seemed able to keep up." That, so far, is the extent of her knowledge of them. "I thank you. As did you. It was a good showing. Though, I must say, I was surprised when you continued South with us."

"The Dornish are another thing entirely," Vidomir admits with a wave of his apple-bearing hand to the side. "They come from a land just as harsh as the North, though they contend with heat and drought rather than the cold and frost," he adds by way of explanation. As for the Tourney? Bolton may be new to Oldtown, but even he has heard of Maera's victory, it seems. With a snort and swig of ale, he rests an elbow on the table and looks to Maege with a bit of mischief in his smirk, "If I have one regret about this entire trip, it was that we did not leave early enough to witness that tourney. I would have given the Dreadfort to see the looks on their faces when Lady Mormont won." When she expresses her surprise that he continued south, he shrugs simply and says, "Lord Stark was intent on seeing Oldtown, and I thought it best to give my men a bit of a rest after the fighting, so I decided to accompany him. I trust the man I left the Dreadfort with, and so I have no worries about staying here for awhile. Besides, I am to understand that half of Westeros has come here for one reason or another. Perhaps I will find something of value here."

"Hotter than here, I can barely imagine." As a woman of the North, she has yet to properly deal with the oppressive heat in Oldtown. Finally, Maege takes a sip of her ale and gives Vidomir a smile at the look of mischief. "You and I both. As her sister, I can say I would bet on a Bear showing these soft seated lords how to win a fight any day. For now, though, I will revel in the tales. And, who knows, there may be another tournament." She gives him a wink and takes another swig of her drink. "It seems there is much to see here. I came for my sister, but I would take in the sights and see what draws so many to this place. Whatever it is, it has yet to be apparent at first sight."

Vidomir chuckles once, then takes another bite of his apple to finish it off. Setting the core down on his already fairly clean plate, he pushes them both off to the side with one hand before he leans fully on the spot they used to occupy. "Yet again, I know what you mean. The idea of a place hotter than here is enough to make me long for the Wall," he admits, glancing aside to ensure that his men are continuing to get along fine without his interference before his eyes turn back to Maege. "If there is, you'll have to tell me if either you or your sister plan to enter. I will be sure to hold back my name from the lists if you do," he says, still grinning very faintly.

"I would not worry, Lord Vidomir, as a man of the North, we would take it easier on you. Or perhaps harder, as we know you can handle it." Maege grins and takes another swig of her ale, perhaps attempting to use the colder drink to bring down her own temperature due to the Southern temperatures. "I have never been to the Wall. The thought is almost a tempting one, just to see it. However, I certainly went in the wrong direction if I truly wished that."

"A roaring horde of Wildlings? That I can handle," Bolton intones, seriously, "Bandits, brigandes, pirates, and rebels? Those I can handle. Rapists, murderers, poachers, and deserters? Those I can handle. Two Bears holding nothing back in a tournament?" Vidomir swigs his ale and sets it down sharply on the table with a raised eyebrow, "I almost certainly can not handle." However, since the conversation is turning towards the Wall, he pushes his mug back from the edge and nods once, "I'm afraid you're correct in that you must have taken a wrong turn somewhere, however I can save you some time and trouble." He leans in close, as if about to impart some terrible secret he can't risk any other patrons overhearing, and murmurs in a low, conspiratorial tone, "If you want to see the Wall, find a large chunk of ice, take several steps back, and squint. It is very nearly the exact same thing."

With a grin of pride, Maege raises her mug in a toast to fearing the Mormonts. "As well you should not be able to. Very few can. And those people we deem worthy." Worthy of what, who knows, but they will be worthy! As Vidomir leans in close, she does the same, buying in to the idea of the terrible secret that she would like to hear. However, at the quip, she throws her head back and laughs deeply. "Come on, there must be something to it if so many people have gone to defend it and pledge their lives and their names to no other cause but to defend it."

Vidomir grins a bit and lifts his mug to return Maege's toast, while a few men from the other Bolton tables do the same — they don't seem to know what they're toasting, but if their Lord and Lady Maege are lifting their mugs, they may as well follow suit. "Oh yes, there certainly is more to the Wall then a large chunk of ice, but it all has to do with what's on the other side, and not how the Wall itself looks. However, if you're going there for a ranging, I think they might have a few things to say about it. Not for nothing are they called the Black /Brothers/. At the very least, the Lord Commander might be worried half his men are going to run down to Mole's Town at the first sight of a woman."

Maege is not about to disdain people toasting to ferocity of the Mormonts - even if they don't know what they are actually toasting to. So, her eyes sweep to those men and grins as she takes her sip. "Why else would one go to the Wall?" she smiles. "You would think they'd have seen the Wildling women while they were out on their Ranging." With a bit of a shrug, she adds, "Though, I guess it a moot point as I am about as far from the Wall as I could get without attempting to fight my way to the end of Dorne. I will have to make do with squinting at a large block of ice. Even if in this heat, I think I'd have to travel halfway back to Bear Island to even find ice large enough."

"You would think," Lord Bolton agrees, glancing to his men as well and nodding once or twice to the few that are looking his way. He takes a moment to empty his mug, and when he sets it down, he signals to the bar maid to send over another round for his entire group, including Maege. "Perhaps I can find one for you to squint at," he muses, looking back, once again, to his table companion. "I'm afraid you will have to wait until I find a place to stable this lot, though. Carrying around a block of ice down here is liable to cause a riot in the streets as every man, woman, and child saught to cool themselves on it." He then flashes Maege another of his scarcely noticeable grins as he adds, "That will also mean you might have to brave whatever manse I acquire for myself. I will be sure to bring out the chairs upholstered with the flayed flesh of my enemies, though, to make it worth the trip."

"With a city this large, I am sure you will find a suitable place soon." Maege grins. "But, do not trouble yourself over finding ice for me to squint at. I am sure it would be worth the trouble to sit in a flayed flesh chair." Even as she says that, however, her nose wrinkles just slightly at that thought. "That truly is a horrifying image." Not one that she is terribly offended by, however, just one that she doesn't particularly wish to think about. In fact, she can't help but add to it. "I assume you'll be bringing such furniture down from the Dreadfort once you have found the space." Finishing off her own drink, she picks up the new mug gifted to her and takes a long swig, attempting to finish it in a hurry. "Thank you for the drink. However, do not think it the talk of skinned furniture, but I must be off."

Vidomir nods once to Maege and stands as she almost certainly does, offering a bit of bow of his head, "Of course, Lady Maege. It's the least I can do after you rescued me from talks of livestock and grain." With this, he shoots a bit of a withering look at his aid's back, but smirks immediately afterwards. "I would send a man to escort you wherever you were heading, but no doubt you would simply end up rescuing him if anything unsavory occurred. All the same, be safe."

With one last sip of her mug, Maege stands with Vidomir and smiles. "Then, I am glad that I was able to rescue you. I am sure we will see each other soon. There are only so many Northerners in this city, despite appearances." As for sending a man with her, she just raises an eyebrow at the idea, seemingly amused. "Perhaps, but I am sure I will be safe for the walk. Thank you for your concerns." And, with that, she makes for the door.

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