The heat of the day is beginning to slake, as the sun glides to its rest in the west. Clouds cast long shadows across the city, even into the Red Keep ... but the great walls raised by Aegon the Conqueror make darker shadows still, and more dominating. In this shaded light, Ser Aidan Dayne oversees the grooming of a horse, the task being carried out by his squire, Danyll Toland.
“Don’t forget to check the hoofs, and pull out any stones caught there,” the Dornish knight from Starfall says to the youth. “You keep forgetting that one. You’ll rue it the day some destrier of yours goes lame, Danyll.”
Ethos Mertyns walks into the stableyard of the Red Keep leading a grey stallion along at a meandering pace. The young knight is thinly dressed, wearing leather breaches that are tucked into his boots and a loose, thin light-grey shirt with the laces hanging open at the collar. He’s wiping sweat from his brow as he guides the mount to a hitching post, but his pale blue eyes watch the Dornishman in a cold, unfriendly fashion.
Raynard enters the stableyard, his right leg limping a bit as he makes his way over to his mount. Patting the mare on the neck he speaks softly to her, pulling up a stool as he goes about grooming her before saddling the horse up for a ride.
“Good day to you, Ser Raynard,” Aidan calls, after looking away from Danyll at his work to see Raynard hobbling to do much the same with his own horse. “How is your leg? It seems better than when I last saw you, ser.” The accent of Dorne is heavy on his voice, and the knight looks very much the Dornishman, from garments to olive skin and long, dark hair. Yet he’s courtly enough, with his straight posture and his pleasantries.
So why is it, then, that the gaze of some knight much his own age should trouble him? Aidan’s violet eyes glance away from Raynard as he’s speaking, narrowing on Ethos. A pause, and then a brief nod of the head, a greeting and no more.
Ethos meets the gaze of Aidan for a moment and bears him little more acknowledgement, then turns his attention to Raynard. “Good day, ser.” He says politely as he reaches to free the bit from his horses mouth. The young man of Mistwood flicks his eyes back to the man from Dorne again, watching him with a wary eye.
Raynard smiles at the Dornish kngiht and nods his head. “Aye, a sight better than it was after they finished shoving that damned broadhead through. Sill hurts like hell though.” He gestures in gretting to Ethos, and pick up one of his horse’s hooves, and begiins inspecting and cleaning it.
“And to you, ser,” Aidan replies briefly, offering a polite smile before turning a more sympathetic gaze on Raynard. “If you do as the maesters say, you ought to be all right soon enough, ser. Arrows can be nasty business, tearing into muscles and sinews with a will.”
Looking back to Danyll, he *tsks*. “Not that way. You’re like to have your head knocked off by a kick if he’s an ill-mood,” he tells his squire, who’s placed himself rather dangerously while lifting the horse’s hoof. “You know better than that!”
“Yes, cousin,” Danyll replies, the meekness of his voice belying his look. “But—”
“But it was faster to do it that way, yes, yes. Your dinner will keep if you take a few more minutes.” Aidan shakes his head and remarks, generally, “To think we were once squires, eh?” And that triggers some memory. Looking back to the new arrival, he asks, “You are .... Ethos Mertyns? Ser Ethos Mertyns?”
Ethos grimaces as hears about the injury, looking back to Raynard with a frown. “That sounds an unfortunate business. How did you end up with the injury?” He asks, and looks as if he would have been content to completely ignore the other knight had Aidan not addressed him. He looks back to the dark-skinned southerner, answering in a terse voice, “Yes. I am.”
Raynard doesn’t look up as he continues with cleaning the hoof before setting it down. “A lucky shot puched through my cuisses in the fight with the Starveling. Didn’t help any that i had to get into foot combat afterwards.”
“I recall you from the king’s tourney, ser, where he knighted you by his own hand,” Ser Aidan explains to Ethos, amiably enough. “And before that, you rode in the lists against Ser Gueren Waters. Very bold.” He seems a consummate expert on tourneys, and those who participate in them, to remember such things from near a year ago. Other than sharing trivia, he seems to have no purpose in bringing it up. As Raynard explains the injury, he shakes his head. “It was bad luck, Ser Raynard, that the warden’s plans went a little awry. It makes victory all the more worthy of honor, though, I suppose.”
Ethos listens with a faint lifting of his chin as Aidan lists off his history in the tourney. “Yes, I thought I might be able to best Ser Gueren. It would have been impressive had I succeeded.” He says, a grin breaking on his face for a moment. “I don’t remember you.. ser.” It’s an almost grudging release of the formality, and Mertyns quickly looks over at Raynard as he hangs his horse’s bridle on the saddle.
“It’s shame you all were not able to catch the Starveling. Now he’s slipped away, I suppose?”
Raynard shurgs his shoulders as he moves on to the next hoof. “For now, but we’re hellbent to catch the bastard. And the name’s Raynard Locke, bout the only people who don’t know me on sight, missed the tourney where Lormon tried to give me a close haircut.”
The claim that Ethos doesn’t remember him from the tourney makes Aidan’s brows furrow. He seems ... dubious, and his eyes are a little harder. “Aye, “the Starveling, and a good portion of his band. We gave them a sound thrashing, however, and killed or captured more than escaped.” ‘We’? It seems the Dornish hostage was actually presented for this skirmish in the woods.” After Raynard speaks, the Dornish knight chuckles. “It was a memorable event, ser. And what of brave Ser Lormon and his son? You rode with them in the first charge.” A moment’s pause, a breath, and then he asks judiciously, “Have you buried the hatchet, or does he still mean to bury it in you?” He smiles at the end.
“Well met, ser.” Ethos says with a nod and a friendly smile. “Have you found serving the Warden of the Kingswood to be pleasurable?” He asks with a wry smile on his face, and then the Dornish knight begins speaking once more and the young man turns his blue eyes back to Aidan with a scowl. Almost immediately surprise replaces the expression. “-You- went along on that battle?!” He asks, incredulous.
Raynard laughs lightly, setting the hoof down and moving around to the other side of his horse, patting the beast on her neck. “You’d have to ask Lormon, though if he still wants to plant it in me, he’s going to find me swinging back this time.”
He turns to Ethos and shrugs. “To be truthful, it’s work. Not necessarily peasurable, but its not unpleasent.” Hearing the knight’s incredulity upon learning that the Dorne’s were present he chuckles picking up another hoof. “Aye him, and several other Dornish Knights put up a good fight.”
The incredulity from Mertyns makes Ser Aidan appear smug. He smiles a shade too brightly for some,and speaks in tones too modest for others. “I and many other knights, ser,” the Dornishman says. He lets that linger in the air a few moments before adding, “The king was gracious in allowing us the opportunity, at the prince’s request. Knights are like good steel: regular honing suits us best.” Glancing to Danyll at his work—the youth seems to be managing at last—he then asks Raynard, “Don’t you agree, ser?”
Ethos’s mouth twists down into a frown again and the scowl returns. “I see.” He answers with heavy displeasure in his tone. The knight of Mistwood remains silent now, though his eyes travel back to Raynard as if he’s weighing the man.
Raynard sets teh hoof down, and after a quick of inspection of the final one he smiles. “Indeed. hard for me to stay in bed when i know there are things that need doing.” Reaching up for a saddle blanket, he pulls one down and throws it over his horses back smoothing out any wrinkles to keep from irritating the horse’s back. Looking out he sees Ethos’s scowl. “Have we said something to offend you Ser?”
The Knight of the Twilight watches Ethos’s reaction, and his expression turns graver. Or perhaps sterner. His smile is gone, in any case, when he looks to Danyll and sees the youth largely done with the grooming of his own horse. “There, Danyll. That’s enough of that. Well-done,” he tells him, offering brief praise. “See that a groom takes him to his stall, and we’ll be on our way to see what we can get out of the kitchen.”
Ethos seems to suddenly become of a different mind, because he quickly shakes his head at Raynard’s question. “No, no. I am not offended.” He says in a reassuring tone as he smiles again, stepping away from his horse now. “Perhaps it is just the heat of the day and the stench of the stable that sours my mood. It was good to make your acquaintance, Ser Raynard. I’m sure we’ll meet again.” Mertyns moves to continue on his way now, leaving his horse saddled, so he must not be planning a long visit at the keep.
With that, Ser Aidan watches Ethos go. And then he shrugs his shoulders, and smiles to Raynard while Danyll hands the horse over to a groom. “Good day to you ser,” one knight says to the other, and then Aidan and his squire depart.