Festival of Roses

Things were starting to come alive in the pavillions, and in a rare moment of impatience, Kevith approached his lord's pavillion. "M'lord, ye awake?" It wasn't often that Kevith didn't wait for Marten to be ready for the day before bothering him with anything, be it reports of anything unusual or what his daughters had been up to.

It wasn't long before Marten pulled open the front of the pavilion. Marten was in much better shape than he had been the day before, having been careful to avoid overindulgence. He had to be ready for the melee, after all.

"Kevith?" Marten's brow furrowed in surprise. "I'm awake. Is something wrong?" Marten controlled a surge of parental worry as quite premature; Kevith didn't seem to be urgently concerned himself.

"Not as such, no," the large man grumbled, holding a cloth-wrapped bundle, long and narrow, tucked under his arm. "Found somethin' curious by my tent, figured ye should have a look at it."

He glanced around. "Away from pryin' eyes, that is."

Marten frowned, his forehead creasing deeply. "What?" This was mysterious.

After a few moments, he glanced around. "Well, perhaps I'd better take a look, then." Holding open the flap, he jerked his head towards the inside, clear invitation.

Kevith stepped inside, shrinking down as he passed underneath the tent-flap.

Once inside, he began to unwrap the cloth from the bundle he carried, revealing a long, finely made dagger with a hilt of what appeared to be ancient bone. He offered it to Marten, hilt first, to inspect. The blade was slightly curved and perfectly balanced, well suited for combat or throwing, and was clearly of a higher quality than even castle-forged steel. No smithing mark appeared anywhere on the weapon.

"Never seen anythin' like it before... came with a note adressed to me, as well, but only seems to have my name written on it." Kevith turned the small note in his hands, showing his name written in a clean, neat hand. Having never really recieved any education, the large man didn't know how to read, but he had learned to recognize his own name at least.

Marten's frown only deepened as he examined the dagger, although his eyebrows went up briefly as he gripped the hilt. "Bone?" He said. After a bit of testing, hefting it in his hand a few times, he offered it back to Kevith, holding it in both hands.

"That certainly is curious, my friend." Marten said, shaking his head. "Curious enough that I don't know what to make of it. If it's a gift, why give it secretly? If it is a message, is from an enemy or a friend?" He gave Kevith a curious look, wondering if the man had a suggestion.

"Maybe the Maester should take a look." He shrugged. "This could have some sort of significance to someone that he may recognize."

"It was tied with a red cord if that matters," Kevith scratched his chin, not sure what to make of this threat-gift himself. "Maybe someone's scared of me beatin' them up today..."

"Yeah? 'suppose there's no harm in askin' the man, I guess. If it's a gift..." he put a hand on the back of his head, "I dunno, it's too fine a blade for the likes of me, m'lord. I suspect people might think I've stolen it, or somethin'. But yeah, let's have the Maester look at it."

Marten: make an Awareness (Notice) Test. TN9

"They should be." Marten chuckled. "They saw you wrestle." He frowned. "I suppose the ribbon is something to keep in mind, but I doubt it meant much. If it didn't mean anything to you, that is."

Marten frowned as he examined the dagger...

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What's this dagger? Awareness TN9: 3d6 12

"Mhm, maybe," he nodded. "I'll get the maester... won't be a moment."

Kevith bowed curtly before walking out with long strides to fetch, or wake up, Simon.