[D1 EE] RP Thread: Bread and Salt

[Maester Simon]

Maester Hubert threw the partridge bones he'd just stripped with his teeth into the provided bowl and sucked each finger in turn. With a sniff and a humph he hauled himself to his feet, prowling along the length of the table, looking for something. His search was interrupted, however, as he spotted Simon's chain, manoeuvring himself closer and elbowing another guest aside to make room for his prodigious belly next to Simon on the bench.

"Evening, young man," he reached for the grilled fish in front of him.

"Oh.." startled, Simon turned to the other maester in the room, bobbing his head to greet him. "Good evening good maester. Please have a seat." Not that he really needed to offer him one. "Simon." he simply introduced himself. "Serving lord Tremaine."

[Maester Hubert]

"Hmm," Hubert grunted approvingly, stuffing a strip of white flesh into his mouth. "Good family," he muttered through the mouthful, chewing contentedly. The maester, like Simon, wore multiple links of black iron and silver, but he also had a link of a silvery metal that appeared to have a narrow vein of Valyrian steel twisting through it.

Swallowing, "how long have you been with the Tremaines?"

[Maester Simon]

Simon nodded, reaching for an overtly ripe plum. He rubbed the plum against his robes as if to polish it before taking a bit from it, suckling the juices from his fingers. "Aye, good and proper folks." Though, unlucky. Very unlucky. The fact that Marten's wife had burnt things down didn't mean that Marten wasn't proper folks. Just unlucky.

Simon's eyes glanced over the maester's links, taking note of his achievements, his eyebrows rising slightly as he spotted the piece of Valyrian steel. He might have missed the thing had he not spent his last year with Master Ilmar in his forge. Not that Ilmar had ever bothered to tell him anything about Valyrian steel - he had been more preoccupied with his experiments on alloys. "Few months." Simon wiped his fingers on his dark grey robe. "Still getting used to this." his hand brushed against his chain. "I expected to have a year or two left."

"How are things here?" the question was loaded, but young Simon wouldn't have known that. Yet.

[Maester Hubert]

Noting Simon's expression, "ah, yes, well, we heard. We were all terribly sorry, of course." Hubert carelessly scratched at his beard, getting grease from the fish in it, and used the other hand to clap the younger maester on the shoulder, roughly, "looks like they're getting things back on their feet," he added in a tone probably more cheerful than was warranted.

"Things are cherry and plum here," the maester answered obliviously, "Ser Elwood's been successfully married off," he said of the Meadows heir, "and they've found a man for Lady Lysa. It has been a good year."

[Maester Simon]

"Mhmhm." Simon nodded soberly. "On their feet, yes." Even if one of the daughter's had few bats in her belfry. Simon trusted that her future husband could shake them out, however. The maester at Citadel had insisted that pregnancies had grounding effect on women. Apparently there was anecdotal evidence that ruly and mischievous young ladies would eventually calm down if and when they became mothers. So Simon was not too worried about Jynessa.

"Oh, that's good." he reached for a peach, observing it for a moment before taking a bite. "Whose lady Lysa's marrying then?"

[Maester Hubert]

"Lord Tyrell's cousin had a son of the right age," the stress he placed on the Tyrell name fairly clearly underlined which Tyrell he was talking about: the Lord of the Reach. "The good Septa," he pointed towards the front of the hall where a youthful woman in the plain grey garments of the Faith was watching the goings-on with a stern demeanour and an even stiffer posture, his voice laden with sarcasm, "certainly has some skill in the match-making department."

[Maester Simon]

"Tyrell's." Simon murmured approvingly. Not that fortunes of other Houses were his concern, but Tremaine's were sworn to Meadows and thus their fortunes were tied to the fortunes of his lord. "How very fortunate. I am sure lord Meadows is pleased with the arrangement."

"I see. Do you know how that came to be then? The good Septa knows someone in Highgarden?"

[Maester Hubert]

Hubert scoffed as he flagged down a servant bringing sweets from the kitchen, taking a lemon cake in each hand, "the Septa knows someone everywhere. Watch what you say when she's in earshot, and when she's not!" he chuckled heartily before cramming the entire little cake into his mouth and consuming it with gusto.

[Maester Simon]

He sure has appetite.. Simon thought to himself as he watched Hubert to duel-wield the pastries. Sweets had never suited him well and so he helped himself to an another peach. Mhm.. peachy.

"I'll keep that in mind, thank you." having been never the man of faith, Simon had no issues agreeing with his colleague. "Still, somewhat extraordinary wouldn't you say?" It was usually the mothers and fathers of the great houses that played the game. The faith tended to keep distance to such matters.

"Oh and that..." Simon pointed at the coat of arms he had been eyeing before. "Could you kindly remind whose arms those are? The vert, boot argent."

[Maester Hubert]

“If anyone should ask, I’ll deny it, but I don’t think that one was always a Septa. Far too calculating for my liking. Thank the Gods that she didn’t make Lysa like she is, or we might never have married her.”

The Maester studied the indicated arms, he didn’t have the links that Simon did in heraldry, but his memory was good. “Oh, yes. Ser Nathan Cordwayner. The fourth or fifth son of an upjumped bootmaker. I suppose he thought the boot argent looked a little tougher, maybe people would mistake it for a sabaton at a distance.” He chuckled again.