Festival of Roses

Kenway blinked as the group approached. Noble ladies of every ilk had been passing through the Twin Gates that morning, many of them attractive in various ways, but this was the first time he'd so much as seen a pair of identical twins, let alone a pair so stunning, and so sweetly demure in the mannerisms.

It was almost enough to make him forget his duty. He cleared his throat and studied the pair carefully. Close inspection revealed that the two weren't carbon copies, but he was certain that the nuances wouldn't be enough for the next time he saw either of them.

He looked at Marten and made up his mind, "very well, I shalln't disturb your pretty things, but you will need to open your cases so I may look inside." He held up his hands, "look, but I won't touch."

Marten's face was an expressive one. Wrinkles were visible around his eyes, both laugh lines and pain lines, in roughly equal measure. Sometimes one set stood out more than the other.

When a man was looking at his two teenage daughters, even if it was entirely polite, it was the scowl lines in his forehead that were most visible.

Still, he offered his daughters a smile. "Come along then, girls. Open your cases. I'm sure it won't take long." That last was said with a bit of authoritative suggestion as Marten brought his own gear forward.

Mari exchanged glances with her sister, turning a little away from the man as she giggled quietly while he was studying them carefully.

"Yes, father," she demurred, complying dutifully. At least it didn't seem like they would rummage through the ladies' belongings, and from what was visible in her luggage was layers and layers of neatly stacked dresses and gowns, a small lap-harp poking out too.


Kevith on the other hand put down his gear for inspection as well, waiting his turn after the twins. "Didn't think ye still haf'ta do this now ye've been a lord for so long, m'lord," he commented, unamused by the entire affair.

Jyn followed along with her sister. Her eyes shined with mischief for the briefest of moments as she held up a palm over her mouth. She then walked forward and parroted, "Yes, father," before revealing he own folded stack of clothing.

Marten smiled, chuckling. "Yes, father." He echoed. He leaned over to Kevith, speaking lower, but not so low that the girls couldn't hear. "See how they 'yes father' me here? Hah. We'll see if that lasts once we're back in Tremaine lands."

He shrugged, his broad shoulders rising and falling noticeably. "Well, no matter. Seems they're searching everyone. A few extra minutes won't make a difference." No doubt that wasn't Kevith's objection, but Marten seemed to be in a good mood.

Kenway peered at the contents, keeping his hands to himself, as promised. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, he nodded, “thank you, ladies. Now, m’lord,” he turned to Marten.

He gave the older man’s gear a cursory look and straightened. “I’m afraid I can’t allow you to have that with you,” he indicated to the gleaming war lance Marten had brought with him. “Tourney lances will be provided for jousting, so I must ask that you surrender this one until the end of the Festival.”

Martin shrugged his acceptance. "Of course. Believe me, I've done all this before." He said mildly.

One of the daughters suppressed a gasp before her palm. "Father," she stated afterwards with a disapproving tone, "We will have to talk to the servants once we return home. How they allowed this to occur is beyond me."

Mari mirrored a similar gesture of suppressing a shocked gasp, though with the other hand so it was like watching a slightly off reflection. "Mhm," she agreed with her sister.


Kevith rolled his eyes at their antics, rather used to it by now, and looked to see how the new maester was holding up with the twins' shenanigans.

He was unmoved by the display from the twins. Kenway had fought in Robert's Rebellion, and he'd be a happier man if the girls never had to witness what a proper steel lance could do to a man. His forehead creased in a frown as he turned and beckoned a scribe to him. The young man hurried over, and made some notes on his slate, moving away to have them transcribed. Kenway passed the lance to another guard, and it was carried away in the direction of the Keep.