(121-05-09) The Bear and the Bastard
The Bear and the Bastard
Summary: Maera and Tameron have a brief discussion on the training field.
Date: May 9, 2014
Related: None, directly
Players:
Tameron..Maera..

Tourney Grounds — The Reach

The Tourney Grounds stand just outside of the walls of Oldtown. There is a raised platform of several levels for noble viewers, with space for comfortable chairs and little tables to be set in place, and tall posts for canopies to be hung to keep the sun off. Not far stands the great board where the lists are kept. On the far side of the grounds rough tiered benches are available for the smallfolk, and past them there's a flat field for the knights to erect their pavilions in the grass.

The long log rail for the jousts stands right before the Lords' and Ladies' platform, with the space for the melee just beyond it. The archery butts are mounded at the Southwest edge of the grounds, where a great meadow of purple-red fireweed spreads off into the distance. The rough little narrow road to Blackcrown cuts through it.


It's near sunset, and the heat of the summer day has cooled enough that a training session isn't out of the question, so Tameron Sand is out on the tourney field, tilting at windmills. Or, really, tilting at stuffed men made and mounted for such a practice. He rides his black mare, cleverly dubbed Horse, and has a sword in his hand, an axe strapped to his saddle behind him. He leads Horse in a wide circle before guiding her into a charge that lets him take a swing at the stuffed dummy. A crunching sound and a few bits of scattered straw mark a successful swipe.

The cooler evening weather has drawn out more than just Knights. Lady Maera Mormont, mistress of Bear Island, arrives accompanied by several Mormont men and women at arms. The Mormont warriors break up into sparring partners while Lady Mormont herself makes her way towards the archery targets. She spots Tameron, and recalling him from the Wildling crisis of a few weeks ago, she lifts her hand to greet him as he tilts.

Another pass is made before Tameron realizes there are others joining the field, and one is saying hello. He lifts his own hand in a return 'hello' before taking Horse in a slower circular trot to cool her down. Heading her over to a post with a bucket of water beside it, he swings down and tethers the mount there, rolling his neck and he puffs to catch his breath.

Maera watches the Dornish Knight for a brief moment before she unstrings her bow, and takes aim at the archery target.

Horse gets a pat on the side and an apple, and then she's left to drink her water and catch her breath as Tameron makes his way over to the archery targets. "No sparring partner today, Lady Mormont?"

"Not today." Maera says as she pulls back her bowstring again to take aim. She hesitates a moment before releasing it, and turning her head to look to Tameron. "Have I met you somewhere before?"

Tameron's mouth quirks in a small, bemused smile. "The wildling hunt, my lady," he replies. "I was the Dornishman present."

"Yes, I recall." Maera says with a faint smile. "You struck me familiar the first time I saw you is all." She puts her bow on her back, and looks over Tameron appraisingly, "But I was mistaken. I'd ask you how you are finding Oldtown, but I imagine worse than I am, and I don't particularly like it."

"Well, I also fought in the duel of the seven, perhaps you recognize me from that?" Tameron offers with a small lift of his brows, "Or perhaps we caught glimpses of each other in the marketplace. It happens in cities like these, sometimes. You take note of a face and forget that you have until you see it, again." For how he finds Oldtown, the young knight answers, "I find it much as I expected it, my lady."

"I didn't see the duel." A pause, and Maera says, "I was sorry to hear of Ser Osric. We only met briefly, but he seemed…" She smiles lightly again, "He seemed like what they say Knights ought to be. Not what they really are." She nods briefly to this.

"He was," Tameron replies, "and he is missed. It was suggested to me that the seven claimed him as they did, because what better way for them to take a true knight than in a sacred duel." His shoulders lift and fall. "I suppose that's comforting in its way."

"I keep the Old Gods." Maera murmurs, "But perhaps they are right?"

"Old Gods, New Gods," Tameron replies with another small shrug. "I have found them all to be silent, whatever ones get prayed to."

"They don't say much I suppose." Maera's tone sounds wryly despite the lack of inflection in it. "Thank you. For coming with us."

Tameron nods. "Ser Arrick meant to ride, but his wounds were too grievous. I offered to go in his stead, since he had already pledged his assistance. And I admit, I find the North curious."

"So I heard? In a duel with Ser Laurent?" Maera smirks at this, "I heard he gave that pompous arse a good work-over. Too bad he didn't kill him. Then my poor cousin would be a widow and free again."

"And the duel of the seven only shortly before," Tameron adds so as not to belittle his comrade's wounds. "And he did win," he agrees with a small chuckle. "Is Ser Laurent at odds with his wife? I had not heard."

"She is living with me. He caused her to miscarry, and consorts with whores and noblewomen alike." Maera's nose wrinkles, "I understand the first, but not the second. Whores like money. What good would it do for a noblewoman to ruin herself with an ugly married man?"

"Do you presume money is the only motivation for anything, my lady?" Tameron asks. "Power, control, boredom… when you have food, shelter and wealth, you begin to notice all the other things you are lacking. Women in your North take up the sword. The noble ladies south of the Neck must find their risks elsewhere."

"I suppose it isn't, but it's a hell of a motivator all the same." Maera shrugs, "And money is power in some ways. But, even if you want power instead of boredom do you really think they'll get it raising their skirts for that big?" She shakes her head before smiling lightly, "I've said too much. Goodnight Ser."

"It's no matter what I think, my lady, it's what they think that matters. And if they do raise their skirts to him without coin, then there must be some advantage for them, or they wouldn't." Tameron dips his head into a nod as Maera says her goodbyes. "Good evening, then, Lady Mormont."

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