(514-08-20) A Christian in the Fold
Summary: Following Kamron and Arian's discussion with Cyndeyrn, they go to the next step: Arian's cousin.
Date: August 4, 514
Related: A Pagan in the Fold
arian trystan kamron 


Sir Gallaloc's only daughter has returned from an extended stay in Sarum — or at least that is where Arian told everyone she was going. She has stabled her rouncy and dropped her saddle bags in her domicle, and then went to seek her cousin. She didn't even stop to grab a snack from the kitchens. She is obviously a woman on a mission. Her skirts still dusty from her ride, and her hair still drawn back tightly with a coarse ribbon, she follows the directions a young page has given her to find Trystan. The look on her face spells one thing: determination.

The directions given will lead Arian out to the training grounds, where Trystan is working with two squires on their techniques when flanking a single target. In this case, Trystan is the target being flanked. They are working through slow motion routines for now, strokes and counter strokes. As Trystan blocks one attack, he instructs the other squire to seize that moment.

He stops them then and starts it over, this time full speed. They put forth effort, but lack skill and one ends up hitting the other on the top of the head with his blunted sword when Trystan side-stepped a slow thrust.

The Knight and Head of House Laverstock sighs at the two and waves a hand at them to leave, "Three laps around the grounds with sword and shield. The loser has to clean up."

Arian tucks her hands behind her back as she bounces right up to the fence guarding the training ground. She watches her cousin exchange blows with the flanking squires. She waits for the inevitable send off, and then she brightens at her cousin. "You're abusing the squires again, coz?" She asks, her voice almost too casual. She drops her hands from behind her and rests her forearms across the fencing rails. She tilts her head, watching as the squires go hustling off. "I bet one of them will collapse at least twice before they're done." And she smiles, nose slightly wrinkled.

Trystan eyes the squires as they huff off on their run. He drops his blunted sword off by a pile of shields. For the squires, obviously. Trystan moves off towards Arian, shrugging once, "What doesn't kill 'em…" he offers quietly. Trystan runs a hand through his hair and gives a quick glance at the squires again to make sure they aren't collapsing just yet. "I rather doubt you came out here just to watch us practice. Looking to get some practice in? Or did you have another reason for coming out here?"

Arian glances over her shoulder, as if trying to track something, and then she looks back at her cousin. She intakes a breath, again trying to maintain a casual air that just isn't quite cutting it. "I wanted to let you know that… Sir Kamron de Dinton is on his way here… he should be arriving in oh…" She glances around. "A few moments now." But this is the head's up she's giving him. "We wanted a moment to speak to you…" And she dimples at Trystan, hoping that he falls for her wonderful smile.

There are good times to spring things on Trystan and there are bad times. Much like there are good times for dimpled smiles and bad times for dimpled smiles. Anytime other than a few days after Elrick brought home a suprise bride would have likely been better than this time. "A few moments?" Trystan intones with a frown. "Speak to me about what exactly?"

Arian hesitates, realizing exactly where Trystan's mind is going. She puts up her hands immediately, as if to reassure her cousin before he lets his anger flag fly too high. "I swear, we did not marry. I know better… and I wouldn't dare put that stress on your shoulders after Elrick." She casts a glance over her shoulder, and then she takes a deep breath. "But it is in a similar… vein as that." She gnaws a bit on her lower lip. "I promised I would wait for Kamron to be here so we could speak to you together."

Kamron was waiting a few hundred yards up the road, speaking with Newt. Figuring that he's given Arian enough time, he nudges his horse forward. Walking easily through the village, Kamron nods politely to those villagers he sees. As he approaches the open yard beyond the manor, he lifts a hand in greeting. And then he notes Trystan's expression, blinking sharply and glancing to Arian, and then laughs easily, shaking his head. When he greets the head of the Laverstocks, it is with a nod of his head, "No surprises, Sir Trystan, I do not believe."

Trystan relaxes just a bit at that. Not another scandle, he doesn't have the energy for that. "A similar vein?" And then Kamron arrives. Trystan eyes him as he arrives and then looks back to Arian, "I am not finding myself filled with confidence about where this is going." He pauses a moment and then sighs, "So let us get to the point, shall we?"

"Yes, yes…" Arian breathes. The similiarities between Trystan and Cyndeyrn is quite impressive. She brushes her fingers across her skirts, trying her best not to grasp them like a nervous child. She casts a glance toward Kamron, offering him a small smile, and then she looks back at Trystan. "We would like you to arrange a match… between House Dinton and House Laverstock…" She hesitates. "For Sir Kamron and me." Her eyes remain on Trystan, weighing her cousin's reaction.

Kamron kicks a foot free of his stirrup, dismounting from his horse in a smooth motion and offering that crooked grin to Arian. While he took the initiative to the west, here, he allows the lady knight to take the lead, keeping quiet as she speaks, handing off the reins of his horse to his squire, and turning back to the Laverstocks. Only when Arian has made her request does he add, "Hopefully, my Uncle," actually his second cousin once removed, but… "will be sending word to Laverstock soon to the same purpose, but we," here he looks to Arian once again, then back up to Trystan, "thought it only fair if both sides had some warning and time to think on it."

At least they brought it to him first? Trystan eyes Arian, then Kamron, and then Arian again. Apparently he's going to marry off his whole family one right after the other. He sighs once and looks over to the squires, now on their second lap of the yard. The pudgy one looks like he may collapse at any moment, his arms danging by his sides, sword and shield dragging in the dirt.

"Hold your sword high! And get that shield up to defend yourself! You are embarassing me in front of our guest!" Trystan looks back to Kamron as the squire yelps and falls down trying to hoist up his shield. Mean? Perhaps, but if they can't learn to keep that shield at guard position, they'll get skewered in battle.

"Dinton wouldn't have been my first choice…" Trystan admits, looking to Kamron, "And I mean no offense by that, Sir Kamron. You've been nothing if not a gracious guest, and stout warrior in my presence." So it's likely the religion thing. "Your house is well regarded. If you both feel this is a good match for our houses, then I am willing to entertain the idea. Of course, I will need to see what your uncle says and terms will need to be discussed." A beat pause and he looks to Arian, "Plus there is your father to consider…"

Arian shifts her gaze beyond Trystan to note the squires, and she smiles softly at the sight of the almost-fainter. She's been there. Trystan probably learned this technique from her father after all. But then Trystan mentions his own hesitations, and Arian intakes a breath. "I know, Trys… but Sir Kamron will not ask me to sacrifice my faith for him… the Dintons will want a traditional wedding, of course." Then she shifts her feet slightly when Trystan mentions Sir Gallaloc. "Yes… I know… I… thought I would speak to him first… alone." She casts a glance to Kamron. "To save you, of course." Then she smiles weakly at her cousin. "And I do think it is a good match… and a show that matches can be made regardless of faith."

Kamron watches the squire yelp, stumble, and fall, shaking his head in amusement, "You're lucky you've been good, Newt, or I'd have you trying to match them." The squire blinks, opens his mouth to say something, and stops, simply nodding and not interrupting the important discussion going on at the moment. Trystan's response draws a nod from Kamron, and again he waits for Arian to speak before he does, "I understand that, Sir Trystan. I had been thinking that there were not enough matches between Pagan and Christian families in Salisbury." Glancing over to the Laverstock woman, he chuckles softly, "I understand wanting to face your father on your own, Rhi." It's the first time that he's used the nickname in front of others, and a hint of pink touches his ears.

A brow is quirked and Trystan nods to Arian, "Bold. I approve." he then frowns and rubs at his chin, "Meet with your father. I will meet with him after." And then he looks to Kamron, "Once I have your Uncle's intentions, we can discuss terms." He seems willing to at least explore this. And then he looks over to the squires then to Arian, "And you get to monitor the squires and make sure they clean up this mess." He indicates the piles of shields and swords. "I'm going to have a drink and attend to some matters inside."

"Of course, coz," Arian says with a small smile and the threat of laughter. "I will look after the squires." She casts Kamron a dubious look, and her smile turns impish. "I'll make sure that Sir Kamron helps out… he should pull his weight around here a bit, particularly since I assume we're offering him guestright for the evening." Then she starts to step forward, aiming to climb over the fence in her skirts to see to the squires. She has done this so often that she makes it look incredibly easy.

Kamron nods at Trystan's response, letting out a little breath and then nodding again, "Thank you, Sir Tryst — " he stops as Arian throws him under the wagon wheels, "Thank you, Sir Trystan. Consideration is all that we can request." A little chuckle lifts to his lips, and he nods over to Arian, "Your cousin may push harder than that, but consideration is all that we can request." And then he's following Arian to handle the squires, offering her an entirely unnecessary hand over the fence.

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