(514-05-25) Call Me Sir
Summary: Letha may have missed the last day of tourney, but Bradwyn's happy to accommodate her.
Date: 25 May 514
Related: None
bradwyn letha 

The Wedding Tourney has come to an end, knights and nobles parting ways to their various holdings. Among those still behind to pack up is Sir Bradwyn, his royal gift finished and delivered, the six foot Idmiston now has to find space for his nice new pavilion among his various belongings. Dressing in his traveling clothes, after all why wear armor to pack up gear? The abnormally tall man is currently trying to find a good spot to tuck in some of the extra poles that are on the longer side without disrupting the movement or sight of the poor horse having to carry it.

Letha has missed the majority of the tourney, and is admittedly rather disappointed about it. She's leading her horse through the winding path that forms of the slowly dropping tents, a redheaded adolescent padding along on the other side, youthful enthusiasm occassionally prompting him to skip ahead before receding back. The woman holding the reigns is tall and blonde and armored, taking in the tents the way one does when taking in the scenery of passing travel. What else is one going to do?

Adjusting the longest pole back and forth for a bit, it seems to finally meet Bradwyn's satisfaction as he makes sure the straps are still tight around the bundle, then secures the bundle more securely to the horse's harness. Bradwyn hadn't made the best showing, though he was given an honorable mention for his part in the grande melee where he not only defeated all he faced but also was one of the few to not be unseated even once… Even though he was in the joust o his first tilt.
Standing to his full height, which will no doubt make him easier to notice, also the fact he seems to have no squire of his own. Either they have gone ahead which is doubtful, he's not been given one or he simply didn't bring one along for some odd reason. Moving to the other side of the horse he kneels down to double-check the straps on the canvas is properly secure before lifting the heavy bundle to secure it to the horse's other flank.

The blonde woman pauses a moment as the large man tries to deal with the tent. "Ian, take the reigns." she orders the ginger boy in a low rumble, before stepping a touch closer. "Sir. Do you require assistance?" Offered to Bradwyn, perhaps obviously, or perhaps not.

Striking blue eyes glance up as the woman approaches and is offered a respectful nod as he lifts a leg to support the bundle with his thigh and carefully moves to secure one strap saying, "I believe I have it, though assistance is rarely something to turn down. Especially from a Lady of martial skill. Sir Bradwyn de Idmiston."

"It is a very large tent." Her voice is low for a woman's, but still feminine. There's a tilt of her head in acknowledgement. "Sir Letha de Stapleton. My squire Ian is with the horse. The knight I once squired to had a large pavillion of size as well, and I used to assist in packing it for travel."

Bradwyn nods and says, "Then please join my Sir Letha, feel free to show me how to make things better." offering a charming smile with a hint of flirtation. Oddly however he doesn't seem to have any traces of being condescending in his tone. As though he believes her words and accepts them and is actually willing to accept help from a woman with more experience.

Letha hesitates a moment, and when her eyelashes flutter, it's not coquettish. It's more like her eyeballs are stuttering. Like she doesn't know what to do with that hint of flirtation. But he does accept her help, and she can work with that. "Ian," she says over her shoulder, "Take her to get some water. Not too much, I don't want her foundering." With that, she steps closer. "Well met." she offers, and then inspects the pavillion with a furrowed brow. "Do you see these seams?" she reaches out, running a strong finger along one of the aforementioned areas of strong stitching.

Bradwyn nods and says, "I do, I was assured it was properly packed down and secured, and of nice craftsmanship. Are you saying it is otherwise?" in a curious tone as he shifts his grip to hold the canvas instead of trying to secure it to the horse.

"Not at all. The stitching is excellent, the material, from what I can see, is fine and strong." Letha attempts to reassure. "Is it a recent purchase? I wouldn't wish to slight whomever you purchased it from, but if they want to keep their good name, the tent will be of the quality their customers should expect. But the easiest way to make it smaller and condensed for traveling is to fold it along the seams."

Bradwyn nods and says, "I thought it was already, as to who provided it. It is a gift from the king and queen to celebrate their wedding. They had workers prepare it for me, it was only recently completed. Would you like to show me how to handle it?" there is that flirtation again, suggestive, but he makes no movement or actions towards her, likely some odd attempt at humor. Right?

You check your worldly at 10, you rolled 2.

Letha does that stutter-blink thing again, and this time her expression turns faintly incredulous. Surely…surely that wasn't what that sounded like. People - men don't talk like that to her. Obviously it's a mistake. "I'd be happy to." she says slowly, reaching for the ties. "Why don't we remove the bindings, spread out the material, and check it for damage? The king and queen would not intentionally give you a gift of poor quality, but accidents happen."

Bradwyn chuckles softly to himself about something and nods saying, "As you say." then works on removing the straps so they can unfold it fully.

Letha patiently assists in unstrapping the pavillion and spreading it out on the grass. Bending int a crouch, she peers at the fabric of the pavillion with a scrutinizing air. "What did you do to earn such a gift? This pavillion is especially fine, and quite costly."

Bradwyn nods and says, "As I said, it was a gift to celebrate the royal couple's marriage. All in attendance during the wedding we able to request a gift prior to the tourney. I assume you arrived late then?"

"I did. I was actually headed for Stapleford but discovered on the road that the wedding and tourney were being held." There's a heavy sigh. "I did not arrive in time even to place my name in the lists for personal duels." She's visibly disapointed.

Bradwyn nods and says, "Not my best event personally, but a shame you couldn't make a showing."

"I should have liked to get on the board. Even at a loss." Another sigh. "Well, then. Let me show you how to fold this behemoth, shall I?"

Bradwyn nods and says, "Show me anything you wish Sir Letha." there goes that flirtation again, but at least he seems more attentive to the task than his tone implies.

You check your worldly at 10, you rolled 7.

Letha glances at him askance, her expression shifting vaguely into something sour before she gestures with her hands. "It's very simple. Just fold along the creases that the seams create, first." She begins to do so, folding it over a few times before gesturing. "Now you."

Bradwyn nods and even as she starts to adjust her side Bradwyn is doing the same with his own so that when she tells him it is his turn, his side is already in place and he is moving about to make the minor adjustments to remove wrinkles and the like to create the most crisp, clean folds possible.

"Very good." Letha rumbles. "Now fold it from the bottom to the top, and secure the tiesThe poles have their own case of course, but in a pinch you can cut some wood and make them if needed. It'll still take up a goodly amount of room on your horse, but it'll fit more smoothly and the weight will distribute better."

Bradwyn nods and does as instructed. Once all is said and done he asks, "What do i owe you Sir Letha for your instruction?" He may or may not be serious.

Letha rises to her feet. She's quite tall for a woman, as tall as many men, but he's taller and that's not a common thing for her. "Owe me?" she echoes, a look of confusion crossing her face.

Bradwyn nods and says, "Services rendered. Not sure how much I have to offer, but we can figure something out I'm sure." as he hefts the folded canvas to move it back to the horse to secure it there.

"I did not help you with the expectation of reciprocity, Sir Bradwyn." She's clearly kerfluffled, even as she moves to take the other end of the pavillion material and help to heft and secure it to the pack horse. "That would be against the principles of chivalry. One aids a fellow knight because it is the right thing to do."

Bradwyn smiles softly and says, "As you say Sir Letha adding, "Though you are a lady as well as a knight are you not? Is there anything you would ask as a lady then, even if not as a knight?"

Letha's mouth curls into a frown. "Sir Bradwyn. I assure you, there is no manner in which I care for repayment. Had the tourney still been going on, I might have asked for a match, but that would be the only thing I would desire."

Bradwyn nods as they finish securing the canvas and says, "As you wish. With or without armor?" Now there is no doubt he is serious.

Letha blinks at him. "I beg your pardon?" She isn't sure how things got from where they were to where they are now.

Bradwyn says, "You seek a challenge, you were denied it by your tardiness, you might as well have at least one chance at a sparring match if nothing else. We can pull our blows easily enough, shall we face each other in armor as you are, or without as I am?"

Letha pauses a moment. "It's easier to take it off than put it on. A moment." She calls to her squire, calling fo him to also bring her spear. Assuming Bradwyn is patient, her armor is removed, and she secures a grip on her spear. After all, she's the Spearmaiden of Stapleford, unless Bradwyn insists she change her weapon.

Bradwyn nods and gets his sword from his things and waits in his travel garb. When she returns with a spear he asks, "Sure you wish to risk damage to your weapon for a spar Sir Letha?" he doesn't seem bothered clashing with different weapons, perhaps it is more the possible expense of having to have a new haft prepared. "Care to make a wager of the sport? If so name your terms."

"I will have many spears in my lifetime, Sir Bradwyn, though I am grateful for your concern. First to three?" she suggests affably. The prospect of combat, even mock combat with abated blows, cheers her considerably.

"I will have many spears in my lifetime, Sir Bradwyn, though I am grateful for your concern. First to three?" she suggests affably. The prospect of combat, even mock combat with abated blows, cheers her considerably. She considers. "I have no desire other than the prospect of a good fight. When are you getting on the road? I can offer to buy your meal this evening, or your morning's provisions, if you win, if that's amenable."

Bradweyn nods and asks, "Should your weapon fail or one disarms the other in some way does that end the match, or shall we reclaim our weapon or a replacement as needed? As to departure I intended to depart when I was packed and ready to return to Idmiston. A good proposal, though I assume you lack the time to cook it yourself." chuckling softly in a good-natured tease before adding, "All the better, I doubt i could match a personally cooked meal with my skill. Though with my size a meal could set you back more than knights such as ourselves can easily spare. What if this instead, if you win I will accompany you till our paths part if you can tolerate my company, if i win then you honor me with a kiss?"

That draws her up short. "Why in Mary's name would you want that from me?" She looks, well, fairly affronted.

Bradwyn lifts a palm as though to calm and says, "No offense intended Sir Letha, but you are still a Lady, and you are not misshapen. Though given the name you speak I take you for one who worships the Christ, I understand such views are more restricted than those who follow the Old Ways so I rescind the request."

"I take no affront to your pagan ways," Sir Letha says a bit stiffly. She's not lying about that, but the prospect of a kiss is so far out of her comfort zone that she's quite unsettled. "But if you saw my sisters, you'd understand that by comparison, I am quite misshapen." There's a low rumble of a laugh. "Best it just be a meal, Sir Bradwyn. For my win, payment in kind. Agreed?"

Bradwyn nods and says, "Beauty lies in more than just a face Sir Letha, but that is your wish so be it." He then moves a bit away after securing his horses so they can face each other without disturbing the animals as he readies his sword and shield.

You check your spear at 16, you rolled 19.
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 1.
Bradwyn rolls 5d6 and gets (4 6 2 5 1) for a total of: (18)
Critical Fail!
You check your dex at 10, you rolled 20.

Clearly the Spearmaiden is thrown off her game from the very start. A kiss! How preposterous. "You don't know me well enough to find any beauty beneath my face, Sir Bradwyn," she says with a grumble, and steps in, swinging the spear in a wide arc. She misses by a wide margin, clearly distracted and spinning somewhat wildly. It gives him an easy opening.

Bradwyn's shield comes up instinctively to bloc but proves needless as he spins about under the wide swing to deliver a hard block. He holds back from preventing any true damage, but it likely will leave a good bruise as the tall woman finds herself on the ground after only a single swing as he takes a step back to allow her to gather herself. This after all is for sport not a true fight. He does however add, "If you keep falling for me like this Sir Letha, it might seem as though you wish me to kiss you." in a playful, teasing tone. Perhaps trying to keep her distracted, or perhaps to anger her to rash actions.

You check your spear at 16, you rolled 19.
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 6.
Bradwyn rolls 5d6 and gets (3 3 1 5 3) for a total of: (15)
You check your dex at 10, you rolled 11.

Letha is rolling to her feet - ooh, he's got her mad, now. "Why, you…!" She takes another wild swing. Apparently she's too proud to give up at this point, or maybe too valorous to give up. And once more, the momentum trips her up.

Bradwyn once more ducks the blow and lands another blow knocking her to the ground, or at least her rump, "Why I believe you are still falling for my Sir Letha. Were you simply being coy then and deep down you wish to be kissed?" in that same teasing tone and that charming smile. He is clearly having too much fun with this and needs to be given a good strike.

You check your spear at 16, you rolled 7.
Bradwyn checked his sword of 15, he rolled 8.
Bradwyn rolls 5d6 and gets (4 2 3 4 5) for a total of: (18)
You check your dex at 10, you rolled 17.

Letha must be genuinely upset, and when so her third and final thrust with the spear comes with a snarl, she's completely lost her head. Her grimace of effort has her upper lip lifted, showing her teeth like a wild animal.

Bradwyn once more rotates away from the spear, though this time it is the pommel that strikes her square in the chest and sending her once more on the ground. Bradwyn then steps over, presumably to gloat, or make another joke about kissing her, instead however his expression is calm, casual and his sword held in his shield hand as he offers his sword arm. Clearly offering her aid in standing, she has taken three hard blows, even if held back after all, and without armor as well. "Three strikes well taken Sir Letha. No easy thing without armor, sometimes even with armor." His tone is actually respectful as though impressed she could take the hits and still seek to fight on. Could this be what he meant by other forms of beauty, or is it simply the respect of one knight for another regardless of gender?

Letha sits up from her sprawl. She takes a few measured breaths, because she knows that she's starting to react rather than back, and in her mind that is not knightly. Then with determination she kicks up to her feet and stands, lifting her chin. "Thank you, Sir Bradwyn. And well fought, the victory is yours." The taunting has stopped, he's being respectful, she has to admit, it's a clever tactic and she fell for it. "Would you be wanting dinner then, or coin for your breakfast?"

Bradwyn doesn't seem bothered she didn't accept the assistance to her feet and simply drops his arm and says, "Unfortunately for me the offer of a kiss wasn't agreed to. Dinner or coin is suitable. If you are willing, if it is to be dinner will you join me for it, and if coin would you travel with me till our paths part ways?" There is that charming smile again, yet there is no flirtation in his tone, the respect is still there. Could he have been serious about her beauty, or that he enjoys her company in some way? Or is it that scar of his has made him so unappealing he will accept any woman as a 'beauty'?

Letha seems far more at ease when he drops the flirting. In fact, it's just what he needs to get his way, if it is in fact, what he hoped for. "I would be honored to join you fr dinner, Sir Bradwyn." There's a pause. "But I hope, if you are expecting maidenly display and manner, you will be sorely disappointed. I am not one for such things except under the expectation of family, liege, or ceremony. It is tunic and trews, as you see me now."

Bradwyn chuckles softly and says, "I have lived in the company of female knights before Sir Letha. Attire matters little in comparison to the enjoyment of the company." He then goes to store his shield and sword after cleaning them off, then walks back over and offers the crook of his arm as though they were at court and dressed as proper nobility instead of knights in traveling attire, "Shall we Lady Letha?" Addressing her with respect, and seemingly treating her like a proper Lady instead of a knight. It doesn't seem to be a joke or mockery, perhaps he is trying to show that regardless of her attire she is still a Lady and he'll treat her like one, or perhaps as he has already treated her like a respected knight he now intends to treat her like a Lady because she is both of those things?

He's being kind. That's what she tells herself, and so there's no anger, but there is a firmness in her tone. "We shall. But please. I served long and faithfully for the honor of being called Sir, and I far prefer it."

Bradwyn nods and asks, "Shall we to dinner than Sir Letha?" as he remains roughly a foot away, his arm still offered. She may take it, or simply move on without as he doesn't seem bothered nor trying to force her hand either way.

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