[SRP] So, You Meet in a Tavern...

[Victor]

Everything in The Horse and Rider seemed smeared with grease. The tavern was poorly lit, with the afternoon light coming in from a few small, boarded windows, but it was stuffed to the rafters with farmers and mercenaries alike. Pikes clanked against pitchforks left at the door, and the roaring fire entranced the tired bodies crouched and huddled around it. Many hunched around tables and benches stacked high with filthy plates and silverware, and banged and shouted for more.

Roland tried his best to blend in amongst the rough and tumble crowd. This was the only place to eat and rest around for miles, and it did wonders to have a roof over his head. Still, the fact that his clothes weren't a mess of patchwork along with his well-polished armor set him apart from the vast majority of the patrons here. It was a right dump, he thought, and he'd gotten more than one good jostle trying to make his way to the fireplace.

The knight finally wedged his way to the fire, sticking out his hands to warm them, instead finding them warmed by the stench of hot bodies around him. The wind had turned unforgiving, and it would only get worse tonight.

[Andy]

Ambrose hunched on a stool, smoking his pipe with his head full of dark thoughts. A loud voice called to a friend, interrupting his trains of thought. He looked for the source of the sound and his eyes caught on a person that didn't fit in with the rest of the patrons here. His clothes were of goodly make and he wore armor that was not only polished, but free of dents. How had he come to be in this place?

OOC: Sorry for taking so long to post, some keys went kaputt, so give me a while to find a replacement keyboard/get my laptop repaired or something.

[Victor]

Roland looked about, curious for the voice, but it didn't seem to come from anywhere. He must have been too tired to think straight, and the tavern was too crowded for him to process anything. He rose from his place by the fire, trying to find the owner or another worker to order some food. On his way to the counter, his armor clanked against a man on a stool, smoking. The man seemed to be one of the only other armored people in the place.

The knight steadied himself, and offered an apologetic glance.

[Andy]

"Don't worry about it," Ambrose replied to the unspoken apology. "Have a seat, man, you look miserable," he gestured to the empty stool beside him, one of the last ones in the crowded place. At least until the wind abated. That was the reason it was so crowded. The wind was as chilly and unforgiving as the mountains of his homeland of Bern.

"Satisfy my curiosity, if you wouldn't mind," he said to the knight, absently breathing the smoke away from him. "What's a knight of the empire doing in this hole in the mud? The people haven't lately been a concern of your peers. Why are you different?"

[Victor]

Roland breathed easy, taking a seat next to the man. He was totally and completely worn, and at the very idea of having a roof over his head for the night, it seemed his body had inadvertently shut down. He slumped onto the table, leaning his head into his hands. It would be a trouble to muster up any sort of eloquence tonight. At least these were commoners. Otherwise he would hope he wouldn't be in such a sorry state.

"Thank you for the kind words and the seat," he said, slouching down further. "You've caught me at the wrong time, sir. Former knight of the Empire, if you may, but don't say it too loudly. I have nearly been run down in making it here tonight. Alas, I have come to this place. And I possess naught to show for it save a broken heart and a withered spirit."

[Andy]

Ambrose looked at the man, concern and confusion warring upon his face. "Wherefore has your heart cause to be broken? Whatever is it that has so withered your spirit?" He breathed another pull of smoke in, blowing a smoke ring to the ceiling. He pulled his stormcloak about himself. The chill was easy to shut out with his cloak, the stifling warmth, and the drink all working together. He thought he could see the answer to his question in the man's stricken expression, but wanted to hear it to confirm.

[Victor]

Roland felt his stomach growl when he saw a large platter of stew pass him by and land a few tables over. He turned towards the man. He seemed honest enough. Gruff look about him, most likely not wrapped up in any sorts of politics or had any secret allegiances. At least, he hoped not.

"Love, that force which moves mountains," Roland sighed, trying to keep himself from waxing poetic, "She has removed my obstacles and rearranged them atop my very heart. I had to tear myself, break an oath. The covenant of beauty and love is much stronger than that of the sword. Or so I tell myself."

[Andy]

Ambrose smiled. He puffed on his pipe, sending more smoke into the air above their heads. "Ah, yes. Love, that spring of happiness I have never tasted, so prevalent in the words and deeds of the common man. So, you broke your oath of fealty for her, and are now landless and, to the courts of Lycia, honorless. Lovers, I hear, do things that do not make sense to those outside their bond in order to see each other. But what a woman, to have beguiled the heart of such an honest man as you."

Now he was waxing poetic. He didn't know why, perhaps it was the cold that made him introspective. "But come, tell me of this lady your heart is set so strongly upon. She must, of course, be beautiful, yes?"

[Victor]

Roland sighed loudly and grabbed his new companion's shoulder. "Aye, more beautiful than the moon and the stars. More beautiful than power itself, than the lands one could rule over, than all the hearts of men." He sighed again.

"Her beauty and wit drove me to treason. That cannot be said of most women. Ah, she was a true flower. It was truly a shame that she should be of such a monstrous family."

[Andy]

"Ah, they didn't agree with you, eh?" Ambrose replied, missing the knight's implication at first. "Yeah, I've heard of that. The callow youth of the field often have arguments and feuds with the parents of their sweethearts." Then, he raised a brow, catching something wrong with his theory. He'd said, 'treason,' not 'rashness' or 'foolishness.' He was nearly run down in making it here. All for the sake of a woman he could not obtain on his own merit, whose kin had been described by the one most likely to exaggerate on their behalf as monstrous. "Blessed Saint Elimine," he swore softly, then addressed his companion in a whisper barely audible in the din of the reeking, stinking, overfull tavern. "Kin of the Emperor? You fell for the kin of the emperor?"

[Victor]

Roland wearily smiled as the man put all the pieces of his story together. He jolted back into wakefulness at the man's revelation. The knight somberly took his hand off of his new companion, and folded both arms onto the table in front of them. He shrugged, and folded into himself.

"Yes," he said, in a complete hush, looking the man right in the eyes. "Yes, she was the Emperor's kin."

Roland turned away instantly to take a long stare at the fire.

[Andy]

Ambrose sat there, looking at the younger man with something like awe. He smiled after a bit, and turning to the fire, he said, "You're possessed of some mighty stones, lad." He looked at the fire, scrunched his brows, and thought for a bit, before ordering a bit of food. "And some of the stew for my friend here, if you please." He clapped the former knight on the shoulder, looking at him as the waitress scuttled away. "You know, I've a proposition for you that might be able to net you your woman, if we can accomplish the task. I'll be needing many folks, so having some as skilled as to be a Knight to help would be a monumental aid. Would you be interested?"

[Victor]

Roland salivated at the thought of stew. It was kind of this man to order him food, and he was more than ready to eat. He was stunned by this man having a proposition. What sort of person had he managed to come across? He seemed more than moderately armored, and battle-worn.

"What kind of proposition?" he pondered, looking at the man once again. "If I'm going to be executed for treason, I'd rather not have it be without lack of trying."

[Andy]

"'Rather not have it be without lack of trying...?'" Ambrose repeated confusedly, confused by the double negative for a moment. The waitress came by with the food and left after the sellsword paid her. He made sure he could be heard only by the knight amid the crowded room.. "If you're willing to die for a false charge, be my guest, I suppose. But my proposition is this: Join me. I am forming a group, modeled after some legendary people, the goal of which is to set right the nobles who have overstepped their bounds. The Emperor is on my list of those, but I don't yet have enough men to attempt that.

"You have skill as a fighter, and you know the ins and outs of Ostia's royal castle. My gain in having you by my side is clear. Your gain is your lady friend. I don't look to topple Lycia with an army, just its head, so that it can be replaced by someone more sensible." He grabbed the end of the mutton leg on his plate and ripped a piece of it off, chewing once it was in his mouth. He swallowed, asking, "What do you say?"

[Victor]

Roland set in at his food as soon as it was put down. If what this man was saying was true, he could actually have a shot. Some sort of way to see Lenora again. The man had bought him food, had graced him in conversation... He had to be true to his word. And Roland would once again have purpose. A quest. A creed.

"Yes," he said quietly. Then much louder, "One hundred times, yes!"

He smiled and banged his fist on the table. "Sir Roland Summer," he proclaimed, sticking out his hand to finally give his companion an introduction. He hushed again. "Pleased to pledge you my sword."

[Andy]

"Pleased to receive it," Ambrose smiled, shaking the knight's proffered hand. "The name's Ambrose, but call me Fred. Middle name's easier." He bit off another portion of mutton, chewing it thoughtfully. "There's a fort, hidden in the mountains twixt Lycia and Etruria, that I'm using as a base. We'll depart for it first thing in the morning, if you're able, that is. Sound alright?"

[Victor]

Roland finished another mouthful and clapped Fred on the back. What a companion he had found in the depths of this horrible inn.

"Agreed, Sir Fred. At the break of dawn we will ride."

[Andy]

"Good," Ambrose affirmed, swallowing another mouthful of mutton. At least the stuff was seasoned properly. Taking a look at his still smoking pipe, he dumped the remaining cinders onto the floor and stamped them out with his boot. He tucked the pipe away for later, continuing to eat. "Roland, you are certain you weren't followed here?"

[Victor]

"Followed?" Roland put down his own mutton, glancing around as best as he could. He lowered his voice and leaned in close to Fred. "I was sure I'd lost them earlier." He pulled away and continued his scan of the crowd.

Hushed, he again turned to Fred. "I assure you that while I am a turncoat, the Knights of the Three Covenants are a brotherhood based on a strong code of chivalry and would not attempt any underhanded means of submission." Roland shook his head. "No, I am proud to have lived by that code," he stated more loudly, thumping the telltale scarlet armor that all members wore. "Nothing would happen in a place like this, I assure you. An assassination would do no honor to a former brother in arms. You must best him in single combat. A duel. And only then will he submit.

"I have bested quite a few, I'll have you know. Not long ago, as I was resting in a luscious meadow contemplating my love, one of my former brothers rose to threaten a nearby maiden under guise of his attempt to capture me, and I-"

A flash of red armor. It was there, under an overcoat. Roland held his breath.

"There. Table closest to the wall. Black cloak, red hair."