(514-02-16) Unexpected
Summary: … is the token Lysanor has for Bryce, to bring him luck on his upcoming mission.
Date: February 16th, 514
Related: Happens on the morning following after this.
bryce lysanor 


Baverstock - Salisbury


The next morning has dawned, after the late night arrival of a wounded Sir Landon de Baverstock had been brought in by his older brother Sir Bryce and the Lady Lysanor ded Dinton; and while the head of the manor had to withdraw to see to various arrangements, leaving his brother to the care of the skilled healer who is also a good friend of the family, the hour had grown late, and opportunity such as Bryce had promised for Lysanor and him to talk simply had not occurred, the former appearing only briefly to wish the lady a good night in the chamber set aside for her (which usually was occupied by his mother Lady Meredith), and voice his hope to see Lysanor in the morning.

The lighting in the hall is slightly dimmed on this morn, grey skies outside obscuring most of the sun, and so a number of torches have been lit, causing a play of vivid shadows on the walls. Seated at the table in the center is Bryce de Baverstock, attired in tunic and breeches of unobtrusive darker tones, before him a meal of bread and cheese, beside a mug of ale. The hall seems to be far from crowded at the early hour, rather the opposite. Especially Landon seems to be absent for now.

Knowing that she would have a very busy day come morning, Lysanor rises early, dressed in her traveling attire to make the short distance down to Dinton after breakfast. That shock of red hair is tied into a loose braid which hangs over her left shoulder and at her side, she wears the pouch which most likely holds some of her main medical supplies. Leaving her guest room well-rested, she makes her way to the main hall to find not both of the Baverstock brothers at the main table, but the elder alone. Lowering herself into a graceful curtsy, she graces the man with a light smile, "Good Morning, My Lord. I've had a lovely night's rest. Enough so, that I now believe I can handle what the rest of the day has in store for me." Moving in to join him at the table, she asks, "What of yourself? I hope that the evening has brought some pleasantries and sweet dreams at least?"

Dark eyes lift slowly from the meal before him, when Bryce sees himself suddenly greeted in such a charming manner. His angular features twist into a smile and he moves to stand. "Good morn to you as well, my lady. I…" He pauses, when the flow of words suddenly comes to a halt, and he exhales. "I am glad to hear you got your well derserved sleep after tending to my brother. The hour was late. I had wondered when you would rise, and had hoped I'd be able to catch you for… breaking the fast with me…?" A gesture there to the food on the table, plates and mugs already placed there for others as well. "Would you do me the honour…?" The Baverstock's tone is all politeness, his courtesy flawless, apart from the pauses in his speech. There may be a slight restlessness about him, a hint of nervousness. But then again, that may be due to a number of causes. "Ah… yes," this Bryce replies then to Lysanor's polite inquiry, "I've slept like the dead, I fear. But I feel much better rested now. So." His gaze shifts from her face to her attire. Waiting for her to sit down before he does. "You will ride home to Dinton, after the meal? You will require an escort." The latter statement as well as half-question.

"Have you seen your brother this morning?" Lysanor does ask, having noted the young man's absence. That light gaze of her eyes looks over the various foods being served, many of which seems to delight her by the hint of that smile on her lips. Though with Lysanor, there tends to be a natural warmth on her features, smile or not. "All of this looks delicious." She would then comment, "I barely know where to even begin." Taking a warm roll from a basket, her eyes then lift, their vibrance looking up and over at the young Lord when she next speaks, "Have you finished your preparations for the journey to Tilshead? The time is drawing so near."

"Oh… I'm sure Landon is still asleep," Bryce states with a chuckle, fond amusement there flashing in his mien. "And given he is still recovering from his wound, I will gladly grant him a few more hours of rest. No, I haven't seen him yet, but I've sent a servant to his chambers with some food and drink." His hand is extended to claim another bake roll, carrying the scent of cinnamon, when Bryce hears Lysanor's second question. "I have, and I'm ready when Cyndeyrn tells me to. I am actually looking forward to it." His brows twitch upwards, and he gives her a faint smile. "Tourneys and challenges may be one thing, but… I prefer the purpose of a task as this mission will be." He takes a bite from the cinnamon roll and washes it down with a swig of ale, lifting his eyes then to meet hers. "Will you accompany us?"

Lysanor shares in Bryce's laughter, her own, a gentle sound. "I believe he would have healed nicely over time without my aid." She begins after buttering her bun in a graceful manner, her eyes on the task, "But he definitely would be feeling it today, far more than he is now, with the poultice. And the following day." Taking a small bite from her roll, her bright eyes finally lift. "Sir Caerwyn truly did strike out in such a ferocious manner. I was not sure whether it was mere house rivalry tradition or something more, but seeing as your brother and he barely knew one another." The braid at her side swing gently when she shakes her head, "I am sure it was nothing more between them, but the love of combat." She nods slowly now when Bryce speaks on both tourneys and important missions such as the one he is about to go on alike. And to his final inquiry, she shakes her head once more, though the smile on her lips remains even if her lips purse just a touch. "I'm afraid not on this journey, My Lord. My brother feels that this one may be more dangerous than he is comfortable allowing me to join. The distance far greater than the woods near our homes as well." Her gaze now lowering, she decides to mention, "I am, however, traveling with him to Exeter… this new mission is not his to lead, but Sir Acwel de Woodford and he has requested my presence." Then something comes to mind and here she quickly adds, "Have I not mentioned the Holiday Miracle to you yet?"

"A broken rib can be painful," Bryce states thoughtfully, glancing towards Lysanor above his mug of ale. "Not much to tend to, perhaps, but even so we are glad for your assistance." Then she continues about the heir of Burcombe, and the Baverstock cannot help suppress a slight smirk. "Sir Caerwyn's and mine paths are bound to cross some day, and mayhaps I can pay him back for his impertinence," he remarks, his eyes going distant for a moment, as the amused smirk remains - which takes some of the inherent threat out of the words he has just uttered. "I can very much imagine how tempting my brother must have looked to him… so new… so… tall." A slight shake of the head there, as the smile deepens. This Baverstock obviously aware of his shortcomings in impressive built and height. "When he should face me," due to old family traditions, "he might be in for a surprise…"

Lysanor's reply to his question of whether she would come along to Tilsbury makes a bit of regret flash in Bryce de Baverstock's gaze. A sip of ale is taken as he digests the news. "While I very much understand your brother's motiviations of keeping you out of this particular mission, it would be a lie to say I don't regret it. As now I will have to accept that I will be riding with a group of knights alone." He shrugs, a slight roll of his eyes there. "Topics tend to always be the same… sparring, fighting techniques, the upcoming wedding tournament." Even so, the other mission she mentions draws his attention. "To Exeter you will be heading? Hmm… I haven't heard of this Holiday Miracle yet, Lady Lysanor. But I'm sure you will enlighten me on what this was about?"

Definite concern does mar the usual lightness of Lysanor's face when Bryce informs her of his own feelings regarding her absence on his particular mission. "From what I've heard, you will be riding out with a good group of knights, but yes, I don't believe there will be a healer present at all." Believing this to be the man's true concern. "My hopes are that you will not need one and that my Lord Brother's concern is misplaced." Her lips draw up into a genuine smile once more, despite her own worries. Seeing as she may not have told the man of what had occurred at the abbey, it is her turn to look regretful, perhaps for what she has to say does bear some importance. "This is far too… miraculous to have let slip my mind, especially knowing why I shall be journeying to Exeter." In a calmer, less flustered tone, she relays the events, "At the White Abbey for our holiday feasting, several of us met a jolly man who told us a tale of how he had lost his son to a raid, several many years ago. The knights who had heard all wished to take up sword and free the child… from where he is now being kept and supposedly, being raised by our visitor's enemy." And here, her body tenses and she even crosses herself gently when she continues, "It was not until my Lord Brother arrived that, well, we realized that the one whom we were speaking to and sharing a meal with was not a man at all, but an appiration of sorts. We believe in his words that he is a good Christian man, or else his spirit would not have sought us out within the abbey. Now Sir Acwel and the others who were present have further decided to come to the spirit's aid, so that his son may be rescued to claim his true inheritence rights."

"No healer will be needed perhaps," Bryce echoes lightly. "And if such indeed be the case, some of us are versed in the first means to treat a wound as well. Even I," he puts the mug of ale down onto the table and leans back, studying Lysanor with the ghost of a modest smile, "know a bit about starightening bones and applying bandages." But then he falls silent, listening attentively as the lady gives her account on what occurred at the White Abbey. "What a wondrous tale," the Baverstock comments after a moment of consideration. "A spirit who send you on a mission to save his son. An apparition. Cyndeyrn will be coming along there? I shall be eager to hear his and your tales upon your return."

There is still a morning chill despite the quick approaching spring, thus Lysanor warms herself with some tea, taking a long sip of the drink from her cup. When Bryce reminds her that many a knight, since the time they were squires even, have the basic knowledge to help heal those wounded on the field, the young lady feigns mild insult when she retorts, "There you have it then. The only reason for me to attend any mission, I'm sure, is for diplomatic purposes. And we know that those are rare." A wider smile crosses her lips now, when she says more seriously, though keeping to her light-hearted tone, "I am sure that you all will be fine and I need not worry so much."

To the Miracle tale, Lysanor nods, her features growing a touch more sober now. "Yes, Cyndeyrn will be in attendance, as well as my cousin, Kamron and, Sir Acwel's younger sister, Lady Seren." Here, she cannot help but wonder aloud, "I do worry for Lady Seren as gentle and sweet as she is. I fear the journey may be too long or the mission slightly difficult. But if Sir Acwel truly believes that our presence would be a boon to the mission, then I will not say otherwise."

"Oh, I didn't mean…", Bryce attempts in feeble protest, noting the feigned insult there. But then Lysanor smiles, and he exhales. "Even so… I am sure, we shall miss your… diplomacy, even if it may not be needed in that particular mission." As for the other, he offers: "If Sir Acwel takes his sister along, she may be good company for you during the travel. It is also a sign that he doesn't expect any difficulties to occur. If this apparition occurred in an abbey, one would think it is a holy mission indeed, and that the Lord above will watch over you all and bring you safely back from your journey." Words befitting a knight of the British Christian faith. The Baverstock's light tone fading into a more proper attitude of polite courtesy. "So… I believe we have both some stories to tell, after we have returned from our knightly errands."

The young woman nods slowly to the Baverstock Lord's words, though there is this distant look within her eyes as she mulls over a thought. Rather uncertain of her own decision, she does finally state, after finishing up her roll, "The meal was delicious as one would expect. Though I truly must be off, though I do hate to run so quickly." Rising from her seat, there is a moment of hesitation, before she reaches at her throat, shifting her thick braid out of the way so that she may remove the necklace which she wears — it's a simple thing, made of copper with a small opal at its center; something which she's had since childhood. " This she hands to him, "Please take this for good luck." Very much like a favor, perhaps, "I feel that it is only right due to my absence." Though she's never offered such a thing before and she's never gone on any of these knight's missions before the last as well. She doesn't dare try to place it over his own head, rather allowing him to do so himself. And with that, she very quickly turns to make her own departure, "I'm sure that I will hear of your success on your return, My Lord. Thank you again for your hospitality."

Bryce nods to his guest's comment on the food, even if the remark marks the end to their brief shared meal. There is hesitation in the smile he offers Lysanor as she moves to stand, and he as well, taking the few steps about the table, while she is already in the process of… taking off her necklace and handing it to him? His dark eyes widen with astonishment, even so his hand moves to accept the offered token, resting there on his palm as he stares at it for a moment. "I shall… I mean… are you sure?" His eyes lift to meet Lysanor's gaze, and a faint awkward chuckle escapes him, a brief sound of it that more or less sums up his bewilderment. And something else. "I am honored by your gesture, Lysanor.", Bryce admits then with a smile that holds some warmth, unable to comment any further on the implications, "and I shall return this to you, when we meet again." Completing the task she had shied away from, he dons the necklace, with the pendant vanishing below the upper seam of the tunic. "This I swear, by the Lord above."

Bryce will be staying where he is this time, by the table, his dark eyes following Lysanor de Dinton with their gaze as she moves to the door. Once it has closed behind her, he will allow a bit more of his emotions to play over his angular features, astonishment, relief and an odd giddiness, as the fingertips of his right hand rest on the fabric of his tunic, reassuring themselves and him that it all really happened - that he has just received a favor of Lady Lysanor de Dinton!

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