Phase 1.3: Where Eagles Dare

Ser Jaime Mallister waited patiently at the top of Riverrow, waiting astride his black courser for Ser Triston Tollet to join him. Mud from the busy traffic was already beginning to cover his steed's eagle emblazoned caprison, but neither that nor the stench of the harbour seemed to both Ser Jaime.

His lord father had told him to seek out knowledge of campaigning from both high and low sources, although he could not yet decide where to place Ser Triston. His house was not large, but it had an ancient lineage, and Jaime's father held the man who had tutored Ser Triston in warfare in high regard. Family matters, but some men are more than their blood and others less. What better way to get the measure of the man than a ride along the harbour, to pick his brain on strategy and test his politics?

He'd seen Watt, one of plentiful purple liveried messengers to ask Ser Triston for the pleasure of his company and the benefit of his views on military matters, as they would be fighting together. The man knew combat against pirates while too many of even the realm's most experienced commanders knew only land-based engagements.

Triston was completely taken aback by the message from Ser Jaime.  He did not know the man and had little to no ties to the Riverlands.  Triston was a Vale man, through and through.  His family were Tollett and Sunderland, hardly a match of great influence or interest to any of the other kingdoms.  These were Triston's thoughts, at least.  

Pushing his raven hair from his face, Triston made his way from his simple lodgings in the city that had been procured for him by his liege.  Triston had essentially been selling his sword for the last couple years now, though he neither enjoyed it or cared much for House Tullison's politics.  

The stable boy led his rounsey to where Triston waited.  With an exchange of a copper penny, Triston took the reigns and pulled himself into the saddle.  "What could he want?" he asked aloud, turning the horse toward the Riverrow and heading off at a trot.

Ser Jaime Mallister acknowledge Ser Triston with a nod, a gesture mimicked by a his well-trained steed.

"Ser Jaime Mallister of Seagard," he shouts to identify himself above the traffic, quite unnecessarily given his garb. To a man familiar with the great families of the riverlands, his blue-grey eyes and brown hair would hint at his identity even deprived of his coat of arms.

"My father gave me your name, though I thought not to ask whom he had it of. Would you favour me with a ride around the harbour to review our ships and discussing ships and warfare on the Eastern side of the Kingdom? We have many fine lords here, but too many only know massed cavalry and land battles. At Seagard we are no strangers to naval landing and ship to ship combat, but these seas are a stranger to me."

The question is asked in a friendly fashion, but with the tone of one used to being obeyed given his rank.

"I'll not have strange seas bring me to the Stranger, if you will forgive me a play on words."

In keeping with his expectations, Ser Jaime has already turned his steed towards the harbour, to bring their inspection and tour.

Triston looked over Ser Jaime and considered. It wasn't much of a consideration, really. "Of course ser, I would be glad to ride with you." The Tollett man follows along with the heir and rides alongside him.

He looks over to the man, and speaks up, "I will admit, ser, that these seas are as foreign to me as they all are, I am afraid." Triston did not know if Ser Jaime was misinformed concerning Triston's skills and knowledge or if something else was in play.

"I am a Valeman, ser, in the employ of House Tullison, but of course you knew that. Forgive me, I am unsure as why someone so low would be sought out by someone with so high."

Ser Jaime sucks air through his teeth in frustration.

"My father told me you had some experience fighting against pirates, but I fear I have rashly assumed that as a Valeman this would mean on the East Coast. We Mallisters have crossed the country and know naval combat, but not the tides and currents of this side of the kingdom."

"I do, I am sorry, I did not understand your line of thinking." Triston rolls his shoulders, wondering if he blundered already. "My mother's people are the Sunderlands in Sisterton. There are pirates a' plenty in the Bite. I saw some fighting there, though mostly as a squire." Triston looks down at his horse's mane for a moment, then up again, "My uncle's ship was involved in three engagements when I was aboard. I am not much of a sailor," he admits, "But I attempted to aid where I could."

Triston was fortunate. Such may have earned a cutting remark from Prince Daemon or outright dismissal from Prince Aemond, but Ser Jaime appeared not to think less of him, or at least kept his counsel if he did.

[OOC: Awareness (empathy) TN 8 if you want to try to read Jaime's reaction]

"A fine thing, for both the fruitfulness of our coming discussion and for our Maester Davyd's reputation as a researcher and steward!"

"No shame in having only been a squire then, we all have to earn our spurs at some point."

The two reached the harbour, resplendent with imposing ships, every second one seeming to bear the Sea Horse of House Velaryon.

The heir to House Mallister enquired as to various military matters - it was clear that he was less experienced than Ser Triston when it came to warfare, but was clearly eager to learn. It was an earnest eagerness rather than a boyish enthuiasm, for while he was but young Ser Jaime was not entirely unblooded. Would Triston be so bold as to venture forth an enquiry about the political questions that consumed the realm, such as the recent campaign in Wyl and the King's attempt to unite the feuding greens and blacks against a common enemy?

Triston attempts to study Ser Jaime, but wasn't sure exactly what the heir of House Mallister was thinking. He paused and took not.

Awareness vs. Jaime Mallister (Haunted): 2d6k2 9 vs. TN 8

"I should tell you, ser, I never earned my spurs. Ser Robert Stone was who I squired for at Ninesisters. He is the master-at-arms. Hardly a great man of Andal traditions like so many others here, and yourself of course. I learned more troop movements and hard fighting than the lance."

He looks out onto the harbor, "I feel as though I've been swept up in a dangerous time. Perhaps I was meant to fight the Mountain Clans and protect the Vale instead of sailing off to Myr."