| Information |
| Summary: | Manfryd Qorgyle comes to tell Torren the whole story, or what he knows of it. |
| Date: | Date of play (23/07/2015) |
| Related: | Venom and Misdirection |
| Players: |
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After the appropriate time, Visenya was deemed fit to be moved, though not to move herself. She was carried to her and Torren's chambers, where she is resting now, though not peacefully. Rhaegor had stayed for a little while, though Torren had — gently — asked him instead to make sure that the prisoners were secured, and to have his and Torren's men check the rest of the caravan, just in case. It is something that needed to be done, but perhaps that was not the only reason that he had asked the Targaryen to go elsewhere. Either way, Torren is with Visenya now, the latter having fallen into a fitful sleep, though at least it is sleep, and not just unconsciousness.
Manfryd escaped the inevitable check of the rest of the caravan, it was not his intention to waste any more time before getting the information to Torren. He had assessed that while the others were charged with scowering through the caravan, he could get the time needed to properly talk to Torren. He walked toward the chamber door, knocked quietly upon letting himself in half a step. Unless Torren threw him out on his ass immediately, he would wait with a subtle drop of his stance to give his lord Prince respect and the time to make a decision if he was welcomed in further, "Highness? A word, if I may?"
At the knock, Torren looks up, and when he sees who it is, he hesitates. He looks down at Visenya, then back up at the other man, but she is perfectly decent, and he isn't about to leave her side at this moment. So, he gestures to an empty chair, and says in a voice that's low, though not quite a whisper, "Of course. Please, sit." He doesn't let go of Visenya's hand, though.
Dark eyes pivot to regard the condition of Visenya, his own hesitation not to get back on Torren's bad side helped keep him tight lipped, for this moment. It was a visible struggle not to leap ahead of himself in this and get straight to business. Only for Torren's sake (or his own not to get slapped again) does he rein himself in, moving with quiet steps across the room toward the vacant chair when addressed and given permission to do so. "I have more to say, of why I raced here without a given thought of how I would be received," not that he thinks often before he acts, "More word of why I came. To tell you all of what I was told."
Torren probably appreciates the quiet steps, though Visenya may not be in a state to hear much of anything right now. But apparently 'pardoned' means just that; it's as if they never clashed over the killing of Aelyn Targaryen. If he is planning on saying anything at all about that incident, he isn't going to do it now. "All right," he says, reaching for the glass that's set on an end table with his free hand and taking a sip. "I will hear everything."
The kid welcomes the fact that the incident is not yet brought into light. That old news. All the same he is sitting a little straighter than he might have been, that earmark of betrayal cut into his gaze, for he was about to be shipped god knows where simply for doing what he is honour bound to do. "My source, a servant at Sunspear," kept as that, simple, "She stumbled on the meeting between a Reach lady, as I was saying, one that has accompained the Targaryens, and a man she could not identify. I suppose she said his face was concealed, shadowed. She said, they were discussing killing 'The Dornish Prince' and how it bring the wrath of the Targaryens down on the Tyrells.. and put their house in its proper place." He looks across at Torren, "The lady dropped the pendant. My…" he clears his throat, "My source told me she picked it up and she handed it to me. Here I am, to have given it to you." His brows knit, "Does that make any sense-" and as he recalls, he shifts his weight in the chair to drag out the letter the hysterical girl gave him, "And this letter, should you want to compare it."
There's no interruption as Manfryd tells his story. Torren just sits quietly, his face impassive as he listens to the story. His head cants slightly to one side as it goes on, and a slight frown touches his lips at the mention of the 'source.' Once it's done, he takes the letter that is offered to him, glancing down at it for a second, before he nods, setting it to the side for the moment. "I would have the name of your source," he says after a second. "Though I have no reason to doubt her words." Since that is almost exactly how it played out.
There the young man turns his gaze down, some instinctual shame growing as his liege is asking more about his source, more questions he possibly didn't want to answer. What was done, was done. With a slow exhale of breath with his hands coming together and twisting fingers over one another, he tells Torren her name, "Her name's Raosia. She's, well, a servant, and… I've known her intimately." It was awkward to talk about, especially to his Prince. "I mean, she thought it would help, she had no reason to lie about it. I was on my way out, she was fearful for her own life but knew it may help keep mine, at your service, and at her side. If I left, well, then I'd be gone and she'd be without." His cheeks flush slightly, which could be comical on the young knight's face, knowing he just admitted to having taken a servant for a lover. Not a noble thing at all.
When Manfryd looks away, Torren's eyebrow tics up, but of course, then it all becomes clear. Were the situation not so dire, he might have laughed. As it is, it's probably best that he doesn't, but his lips do turn up just slightly, for the first time since the viper attack. "Ah," he says, though his tone does not give away much of his thoughts. The tiny smirk might do that better, though. "Well, please convey to her my deepest thanks for her part in uncovering a plot against my life." He notes the blush, but doesn't comment on it, though even the fact that he does note it might be bad enough. "If she is able to recall anything at all about the other man, to whom she was speaking, please tell her not to delay in mentioning it."
It is bad! He'll never live it down. A laugh would've been good right about then, but as his gaze snaps up, the upturn of lips was enough to know it was going to be a running joke from now on. There was an light grunt as his eyes showed the exasperation for his admission, the irritation of it coming to that. He puts his hand on his thigh, leaning forward over it, brow lifted, "She told me all she could. If she was caught spying on them, could you imagine what they would have done to her?" There was general concern as his eyes wander toward Visenya, "And how is she doing? What'd they get her with? Viper… I heard?" His chin lifts up to draw his gaze over the bed, then back to Torren, "And you? You're good?"
"Of course," Torren says, waving a hand, "I am not suggesting she attempt that. Just if she happened to think of something later that she did not remember at first. Even the smallest detail might tell us who the other is." Though they might be able to figure it out anyway, considering the conversation. He sobers again at the question, and looks down at Visenya, confirming, "Yes, a viper. She is as well as we can expect. The antidote was given in time, and now it is just a matter of working the poison out. It may take a day or so." His mouth twists wryly then, "I am perfectly well. It did not bite me. Just her." His grip tightens a little on her hand, though she can't feel it at the moment. "I wish I had been quicker."
"I'll let you know if I hear anything, beyond what she initially told me. It was, as you can imagine, given over in a rush, the moment I knew…" he runs a hand through his short black hair, scrubbing it forward with a frustrated sigh. The nearly black gaze shoots toward her after he shakes his head for the confirmation on the viper attack, "Meant for you, no doubt. How'd it happen? How'd they get the viper close enough to strike?" The last is met with an empathic nod, "You and me both. I may have to find a new mount after I beat that one half to death getting here."
"Thank you," Torren replies, and he gives a nod. "You came as quickly as you could. Your loyalty despite the unpleasantness is commendable." As for the horse, he continues, "I shall show you several, and you may choose the most acceptable amongst them." He leans back a little bit in his chair, as though suddenly weary. "It was under the pretense of a gift," he says, "for my wife's name day. The viper was placed in the bottom. I did not notice it until it was already poised to strike. Prince Maelys saw it, or heard it, but also too late." He lets out a little sigh, "At least it was meant for me, and not her." This last is said quietly, almost to himself, though why it should be better for it to have been for him and not her is anybody's guess.
Those unpleasantries he has yet to apologize for. Nor does it look like he will with the brashness of his shoulders squaring and a tightness of his facial expression, namely his eyes as they come to narrow at the sides in a squint. "Thank you, Highness," for the horse, as he watches the other become weary from the day. "Have you trusted men to watch over your rooms?" He glances to see if there are any windows or balconies that could afford the treachery of further assassination attempts, drawn back to hear the answer. As he does wait, he pushes himself from the chair, to give the man some peace, "Those who are responsible will be found, if they have not been captured already."
Torren does not seem to expect an apology, either; at least, he doesn't say anything else about it. The question of the guards for their room gets a nod, and the room they have for their use is an inner one, without a balcony, though they might have had a different room had all of this not happened. "I have positioned several," he confirms, "and once we arrive at Skyreach it shall be easier to keep track." When Manfryd rises, he inclines his head to the other man, and says, "Thank you for your confidence, and your service. I shall not forget it."
Manfryd appears to be satisfied with the efforts that Torren has made to secure himself and his wife further. The knight brushes his hand down the sandrobes and leather, straightening out what bunched up. "Would you like me to stay on with you for the arrival to Skyreach or return?"
It doesn't take long for Torren to reply to this. "Stay," he says firmly. "Most of the closest relations of Aelyn Targaryen have returned to Dragonstone. However," he says, and here his voice is threaded through with a hint of steel, "you must control your temper, and remain as unobtrusive as you can. I understand your actions. Were I my own man, I would have even cheered you on." Since of course, it is common knowledge that Torren's first wife was murdered at the Red Rookery. "But I am not my own man, and I cannot be a slave to my feelings. And nor can you, now. Keep them in check, until we return. There is a time and a place for such things. It will come. But it is not now."
There was a light exhale of breath between the younger man's lips, obvious relief to be allowed to remain on. "Where they should stay," he files that in right before Torren is addressing him to mind his temper. "It is enough to know that, your Highness, of your support in the matter, from man to man," he looks down at his feet for a split second, finding himself shuffling his feet before he draws a line of sight to the Prince as his face lifts. He was proud, wasn't he. Young and proud, and willing to fight for what he believed in. To defend against a slight as what he heard, was enough to believe in. There was a crinkle of delight still within his gaze and upon his lips to recall how that Targaryen looked. "I will, your Highness, be as you require me to be," a common salute is given as he backs away toward the door, "I shall give you space to retire now."
"Thank you." Torren inclines his head to Manfryd, and continues, "I wish you a better rest of your night than it started out." That said, he turns away, assuming that — one hopes — the other man can show himself out.