D1: Weeping Woods Mid-morning

[Yoren longshore]

The godswood is weeping from the heat. In the godswood there are some devout, but to the side on a big Root sits a tall, lanky man with an abacus and a piece of paper murmuring to himself pushing the small balls on the abacus with very experienced hands.
He shakes his head several times as if in disbelief, as if what he sees may be kept out of his mind if he simply shakes his head enough.
For a long time he sits there, eagerly speaking to any passerbys, as if he is eager to let his mind rest.

[Tristain Croson]

A large man dressed in simply brown and green traveler's clothes, still somewhat dirty from travel or labor made his way through the godswood. He seemed troubled at first, running his thick fingered and brawny hands through his shaggy dark brown hair as he went. When at last he though himself away from the bustle and with a moments peace, he took a deep breath of the wooded air and let it out and long calming breath, eyes closed. When he at last opened them and glanced to the side to see the man with his abacus, apparently having missed noticing him when first came upon the spot.

"
An odd place to be running your numbers is it not?"
Tristain said as a form of greeting, his tone was coarse but it seemed that was the nature of it rather than a show of his attitude towards the man on the root.

[Yoren longshore]

The man rises to shake the other mans hand showing a very spare, lean frame, although only the arms and face is visible, as he has on a robe in bright red.

"
When you first have to run your numbers, i find it to be wise to do so in a place where someone wiser than you may correct your numbers, and who is better than the old gods, who has stayed in this place for centuries? They have probably learned quite advanced algebra in that time. What has brought you to these woods"
The man smiles broadly, but with an attentive glint in his eyes that belies honest curiosity: "
But where are my manners? My name is Yoren Longshore, and heir to that house, may i ask what your name is?"

[Tristain Croson]

Tristain took the man's hand firmly and shook it, bowing his head. "
Ser Tristain Croson, a knight in the service of House Bartheld."
Tristain's voice was a deep, terse voice but calm and without malice. "
There are few things I would entrust to the gods, if they chose to aid you in your numbers then I feel their priorities are more askew than I already believed."


"
I needed a breath of air and to attempt to find some space from the rest of the bustle of the events. It helps to level my thoughts. You are Ironborn, are you not? I did not know the Ironmen wielded abacus alongside axe."

[Yoren longshore]

Yoren simply chortles at the first comment: "
That is probably why I do it in front of gods I have little faith in then, to distract them from ruining for the true god."

"
If ironborn would wield more abacuses and less axes the world would be a much better place for it. The bustle will probably last till this tourney is done, have you written yourself up as a contestant? You certainly look like you know your way around weapons.'"

Yoren smiles: "
Might I enquire who your lord is, if he has knights with this sharp wit, i cannot imagine how the lord would be!"
Yoren says, with a twinkle in his eye.

[Tristain Croson]

Tristain snorted, possibly as a laugh since the corner of his mouth seemed to form the start of a smile, "
I wonder which world you speak of, the world of the Ironmen or that of the Iron Throne?"
The question didn't seem to be asked with the intent of requiring an answer and neither was it meant as an instigation, more of a pondering.

"
I have enlisted in the joust, though my horsemanship is likely not to win me any great prestige. As for who my lord is, well that seems to be of a dilemma of late. Lord Brom Bartheld has stepped down from his seat, Davain Bartheld stands as the heir."
Tristain couldn't help but smile as he mentioned his friend, "
House Bartheld will do well under Davain, he's a good man with a level head. He might well be with abacus in hand like yourself as we speak."

[Yoren longshore]

"
Ah, although I think that he would be a goor lord, but if I'm not mistaken his claim is very contested, has it been resolved who will have the lordship yet?"
Yoren looks for a moment "
as a matter of fact I am in the same predicament right now, being a contestant for the next lord of the longshore."
Yoren smiles: "
Maybe people in the same situation migt do well helping each other out of it?"

[Tristain Croson]

Tristain nodded, a bit a perturbed scowl on his face, "
Aye, it's still contested. Davain and uncle are not of a like mind as to the best interests of the house."
As Yoren eludes to the possibility of mutual benefit Tristain ponders for a moment. "
It is possible that there could be something to gained by aiding each other. I am not one to speak for Davain, he's a man of his own right and mind. But if you wish I could speak to him for you...depending on what it is you wish in turn."


Tristain was unsure if an Ironborn, any Ironborn, could be trusted. But if this one spoke truly about wishing most Ironborn would put down their axes...it could go somewhere, even if it was just one Ironborn house making the movement. Why not test the waters and see what this man is about?

[Yoren longshore]

Yoren smiles: "
You are bright, always look for what others want in return before drawing conclusions. My information where Bartheld is concerned is very slim. What I do know is that Davain is not one to follow in the footsteps of his forebears, this will shrink your house's list of friends considerably, I want our houses to both have the others name on that list of friends."
Yoren flashes his teeth. "
As I called you wise you may probably counter that words are wind, which they are. I wish to cement this alliance by blood."
He flashes his teeth again. "
We certainly trust our allies, but it is a good principle to never have more allies than your wife may produce, that way you will always be able to push significant aid, if any of your allies needs it. This will also ensure that you will ve able to mediate any other houses disagreement, without stepping on anyones toes."
He claps on the root next to him
"
Of course, if you have any other suggestions, sit down and we may talk."

[Tristain Croson]

Tris eyed the Yoren for a moment, "
For Ironborn he talks a lot with plenty of flattery, that can be good or bad. He finally took the seat, hesitantly, next to Yoren. "
Wise isn't how most would describe me,"
he said plainly, "
House Bartheld stands to grow in respect and power under one lord, or be treated as a winery and brothel under another. Davain has the mind to turn the house into an influential and respectable noble house. He only needs the support and the means."


Tristain placed his hands, scarred and calloused, on his lap and leaned forward slightly on his seat as spoke more to the point, "
You seek support of your own claim to your house. And what could Davain expect to receive in return for aiding an Ironborn house and seeing you upon the seat of House Longshore? Forgive me, but Ironmen don't have the cleanest reputation and I will not stain Davain's name."

[Yoren longshore]

"
Your young lord stands to lose the lords when he stops the brothels. Barthelds influence relies almost solely upon their streetwalkers and their wine."


Yoren bends slightly, so that the two sits closer. "
Davain may be the rightful heir, but does he have enough support from the lords? Most lords would want to have the Barthelds serving them their wine, which Davain is agains. He stands without any houses backing him. You talk about him not ruining his reputation, I am afraid that I will stain MY reputation by supporting him."
Yoren smiles at having turned the situation around.

"
Davain supports me, then I'll support him. He is my ally, I'll be his. I may rely on military support from him, he can expect the same from me."
Yoren smiles. "
My terms are fair. We may discuss the finer points once you realise that Davain needs me more than I need him."
Yoren has gotten a hard look in his eyes, gone is the scholarly curiosity.

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