(122-12-31) A Chance Encounter
A Chance Encounter
Summary: A chance encounter in the garden. Talk turns towards recent troubles.
Date: Date of play (31/12/2015)
Related: Related Logs None
Players:
Daevon..Vhaegor..

Daevon's finished training, at least for the moment, and is sitting with a pitcher of lemon water, lounging in the garden.
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"Ah, Ser Daevon," comes a voice, one swiftly and easily matched up to Vhaegor as he steps from the door leading out into the garden, "I did not realize you were out here." He wears a stoney expression as he approaches, coming to within just a few feet of Daevon's general vicinity before he stops and offers him a nod. "Where might your Northern Sword be?" he asks, looking around as if expecting to see him training somewhere nearby, "I thought he was always by your side."
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Daevon smiles at Vhaegor, it's actually a warm smile, for all that there's a faint flicker of hesitation there. "Ser Vhaegor, how lovely to see you. I might ask you the same about Ser Rhaegor? Where is he? I thought that you were his shadow." He shrugs. "Which of my swords? I've no idea where either is. Doing their own things I would imagine."
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"Have you gained a new one? The only one I know of is Ser Desmond, the Bastard Knight," Vhaegor responds, his tone lacking any sort of emotion. However, when he's named Rhaegor's shadow, the stoney expression cracks to reveal a hint of some misdirected anger. In an instant, it's gone again, but it's existance was, for a moment, perfectly clear. "Rhaegor is out," he finally answers, glancing towards the wall of the garden, "Likely attending to some business or another. I am not privy to all of his comings and goings."
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"Eonn of the Rills also works for me," Daevon says. "He has done so for years now. His daughter Keli serves the house as a messenger. Have you met her yet?" He does note that anger. "You jousted extremely well. It was an honour to be matched against you."
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Vhaegor takes a moment to calm himself, attempting to cover it by simply clearing his throat, before he nods once or twice, "Ah yes, of course. I almost forgot about that one. I'm sure I've seen her about, but I've not yet had a name matched to a face." As for the tourney… "Not well enough, Ser Daevon. Had I given a better showing in the finals, we wouldn't have nearly faced a riot."
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Daevon shakes his head. "If it was not that then it would have been something else." He frowns as he says that. "I keep hoping that things will improve, but it's as bad as when I first came here."
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Vhaegor takes a moment to brush something off the front of his tunic before he folds his hands behind his back. "Incidents like the bathhouse only make the situation worse, I'm afraid," he responds, "Setting back any positive work by twice as much as we have moved forward. It is within the nature of men to hate, so it's easier to do than to forgive and forget. When a Targaryen prince and knight is said to have words with a Dornish lord, the smallfolk take that as approval to do the same. It is… unfortunate."
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"He attacked the owner of the bathhouse, threatened her business," Daevon says. "And he immediately assumed we were attacking him when we entered. The only person who raised a hand to him, or acted in a threatening manner was Peri. As a Knight it is my sworn duty to protect women, to protect them even from other knights, even from Dornishmen. But she didn't need my protection. He was the one who… he just went crazy at our presence. And yes, we'd words, but words were all they were, and Peri was trying to kick him out."
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"Yes, I've already had the full story from Peri," Vhaegor replies with a slight nod, "Something that spreads rumors as quickly as dragon fire draws my attention quickly, especially when it claims there was a fight between a Dragon and the Scorpion." With a slight grunt, he offers Daevon only a shrug, "That Dornishman is a volatile creature, for sure, and I have little doubt you tell the truth, but the truth doesn't matter so much as what the smallfolk are saying. What they think happened in the bathhouse. It's unlikely to calm any nerves."
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Daevon's frowning now. "What his friends are saying, and what everyone else is saying are two different things." He sighs. "He shouldn't have been brought here. Certainly not have left here. He shouldn't have been allowed to run wild, raping, and threatening, and attacking people as suits him."
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"Why do you think his friends are saying it?" Vhaegor asks, still calm and emotionless since his brief showing of anger, "There's doubt. You are well liked among the smallfolk, and he is not. They like to let there imaginations run wild, and to them it's far more exciting to think of their brave Maiden's Knight driving the vile Scorpion away from a poor woman in need at sword point. If you think this is mad, then you are not wrong, but you are in for a surprise if you believe people to always be entirely rational."
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"Because he lied to them," Daevon says. He's clearly unhappy with the conversation.
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Vhaegor breaks his stoic mask for a brief smirk before he drops it and nods, "Yes. Because he lied to them. I meant, what do you think their motive is? He is volatile, not stupid." After a moment he breathes out deeply and reaches a hand up to rub at his temple, "I apologize if I seem rude. I'm simply expressing the truth of the matter as I see it. It's a… delicate situation, no matter which way you look at it."
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"Because he's their friend," Daevon says. "And they're probably used to being treated badly. I've seen how the Dornishmen are treated in this city. I remember the riots. I remember them being arrested, and forbidden to walk the streets, I remember the Trial of the Seven. I remember the lynchings. I'm aware the situation is delicate, and his presence is doing nothing to improve matters. He's just confirming everyone's worst fears. That if we have peace, then Dornishmen will be free to act as he does throughout the city with no fear of repercussions. Never mind that most of the Dornish are nothing like he is."
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"And your solution for this? As one who remembers much," Vhaegor asks, one eyebrow raised as he regards Daevon calmly. "No doubt you hope for peace, and no one is arguing that Manfryd threatens that peace with nearly every waking moment, but I'm curious as to how you would handle it were the choice exclusively yours. Would you arrest him? Make an example of him? Or try to win him over? Or perhaps something else entirely…"
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Daevon considers this. He's looking somewhat guilty. "If it were exclusively mine? What's the point of thinking of that, since it's not. What would you do?"
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Finally Vhaegor actually laughs, though it's shallow and short, "I see. Fair enough, since I asked the question, I may as well be prepared to answer it…" He doesn't really have to think very long on his response, for he takes only a moment to collect his thoughts. "If it was my choice exclusively, I would have a word with Prince Torren. With luck I'd convince him to… deal with his man. The simplest and most efficient way this will end is if Torren personally puts a stop to the Scorpion. It will win Torren more popularity with the smallfolk and open their minds a little more to the idea of peace, remove the annoyance that is Manfryd Qorgyle without drawing the ire of his friends any more than we already have, and hopefully lead to lasting peace with Dorne. The only outstanding issue is that it might make the crown look weak if we allowed it to continue without stepping in. Then again, if it were my choice exclusively, it would have been over and finished with long before now."
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"They are close friends, I thought," Daevon says. "But yes, that seems like a good plan. A very good plan. If only Torren were available so we could enact it."
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Vhaegor nods once in response, "Perhaps, but then, I don't care /how/ he's handled, just that he's handled." After a moment, Vhaegor looks around once before turning back to Daevon, "Well… I have taken up enough of your time. I will let you return to whatever it is that you were doing. I have a need to locate someone and it's obvious they're not out here." With a polite nod, Vhaegor turns and begins walking back towards the manse eyes forward and his steps quick.

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