[Day 4, EM] Hunting the Leopold (semi-closed)

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

(OOC - The scene's between Gwyn-in-disguise and Maester Leopold, but since it's happening in a public place it cannot be entirely closed. )

The sun was just breaching the horizon, and Gwyneth was at the end of her endurance. Riverton had bloated far beyond its normal, modest boundaries with merchants and worse, all there to glean their little piece of the tourney-goer's lucre. Searching for someone amidst that chaos was nightmarish for her. Though good with people, she simply didn't know who to ask, who to approach. And unescorted, she was constantly aware...possibly over-aware...of the danger of approaching the wrong sort.

Worse still, her description of her quarry turned out to be horribly vague. She hadn't seen the erstwhile maester in a long time. 'A thin old man' turned out not to lead to helpful advice. And even describing the exact nature of his bald spot, or the mole on his chin, didn't help. Those were details other people would never recognize even if they had seen him.

She'd avoided the Huntsman though. It was frequented by nobles and non-nobles from the tourney, and she was concerned about being recognized. By dawn however, with the search proving fruitless, Gwyn was no longer nearly as concerned by that possibility. She went in as much to find something to lift her spirits and give her strength for the journey back as to look for information.

Even so, she gave the man at the bar the description she'd managed to work out over many many failed attempts, and he gave her an amused look and nodded to something behind her. "
Like him?"
he asked jovially.

When Gwyn looked back and saw Leopold there, she'd have crushed her mug in her hand if she'd had the strength to. She paid the bartender double her drink's cost, got up and went over.

"
Mind if I share your table?"
she asked in her best 'smallfolk' accent...which would have sounded rather muddled to an actual smallfolk. Without waiting for assent, she took a seat, then took a long swallow of her drink. "
Thanks."

[Reader]

Maester Leopold regards Gwyneth coldly. He'd always been thin, but now had has passed gaunt and seemed in search of whatever adjective came next.

"
Let an old man drink in peace. Heavens don't reign here."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn blinks, taken aback, then leans closer.

"
It's me,"
she says in a hushed, but normal, voice. "
Gwyneth."
She beams at him, a little giddy with her own naughtiness and tiredness. "
I'm in disguise. Looking for you. Don't you want to know why?"

[Reader]

"
What good could come of it?"
he breathes all over Gwyn, beerily.

"
When has good ever come of involvement with Marstens."


He's beyond drunk.

"
Wait, it's you, Gwyn."


He moves to hug her, drunkenness overcoming etiquette. His embrace will be a test of Gwyn's nasal fortitude, if she can bear the breach of good manners.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn suffers the hug for old times' sake, holding her breath through it. When he settles back down, she asks, "
Maester, I came looking for you in hope that you were still interested in working for House Marsten...but...are you? I have an opportunity, and some good news, but I can't force you. I assumed you'd only be here if you wished to return."

[Reader]

"
I'm here for the conclave, and because there are many Lords here."


"
That I'm not welcome in House Marsten was made more than clear to me."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn leans over the table a little, trying to meet Leopold's eyes.

"
Not welcome to a Marsten,"
she corrected intently. "
Just one. No one else in that House has any ill will towards you. Quite the opposite, really. And while Isobel is currently in charge, the wind of change is blowing. Corrine has been asserting herself in the tourney, and the future belongs to her, not her mother."


"
The House needs a man of education, Maester. The Septa means well, and is an intelligent woman, but she hasn't your mind, nor your skill. And maybe more importantly, what she offers comes wrapped up in the trappings of faith in the Seven. Who can say what she'd do if she ever thought the Seven did not wish her to perform her duties?"


She reaches out to put her hand on the older man's arm.

"
I know hope can feel cruel when you've given it up. I know it too well. But it's what I am bringing you. The tourney...we have knights in the joust, in the melee. Injuries are inevitable. The Conclave as well, we need someone to bring us news of the goings-on, so we may benefit from their, and your, wisdom. In short, we need a Maester, even if the current Lady disagrees. You have to understand...Corrine's never really seen what a Maester can do for a House. She barely remembers."


"
I'd like to ask you to demonstrate. I will help as much as I can. In fact, with your leave, I will relay everything you learn from the Conclave to her directly, so you don't have to risk Isobel seeing you."

[Reader]

Gwyn's mixture of kindness and flattery seem to sober him, at least partially.

"
Coin and discretion. That is all I ask. I have, uh, run up some debts securing medicinal supplies and book."


Securing beer, by the smell of him.

"
About, uh five dragons worth of supplies."


He coughs.

"
Bring your injured to me here, to keep them from Lady Isobel's blame."


"
I will share what is appropriate on the conclave but no more. You must understand that giving a full rundown on citadel business risks shedding more heat than light. I shall distil only the verdicts that are important, rather than the full discussion."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Five dragons? How did he yet live?!

Easy there. He's not demanding it from your pocket. Not yet.

"
Very well,"
she said. "
But, for the sake of whoever we bring...and yourself..."
Gwyn reached out and moved the man's mug away from him. "
Save the medicine for your patients from now on?"

[Reader]

He gulps down more ale.

"
It steadies the hand Gwyn. I cannot help, I cannot heal, without my hands."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Damn it all, this is going to be harder than I thought.

"
Maester,"
she said gently, "
I believe it steadies your nerves, and I understand why you might feel like you need it. But I've never known drinking to steady a man's hands. Take a sober thought now and ask yourself what impression it would make on Corrine...and your future with House Marsten...if we brought a wounded knight into a tavern for treatment and found a drunk man ready to cut into him?"


Gwyn reached over to put her hand to his cheek and make sure he was looking directly at her.

"
What happened to Lord Marsten was not your fault. No man could have saved him. The Seven brought him home. I believe that with all my heart. You can still save lives. But not with this."


Again, she tries to take the ale away from him.

[Reader]

Master Leopold makes no move to reclaim his prized ale.

Instead, he suddenly seems weary.

"
Gwyn, my dear - the light? Is it near morning or near night? I suddenly feel, very tired."


He catches himself on the table.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
The sun's newly risen,"
says Gwyn softly. She could definitely relate to being tired. "
Here, take my arm. Where are you staying? I'll see you back there."

[Reader]

He weakly gestures up the inn's stairs towards his room.

"
Bring my patients here, although they'll have to traverse the thoroughfare."


The journey up the stairs is a truly heroic ascent, with Maester Leopold pausing to vomit in to a vase only once. His time with the Marstens has at least taught him to vomit away from a lady, rather than across her.

With Gwyn's help, he is at least able to make it to his room.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn helps him across the little room until he is near his bed.

"
Get some sleep,"
she advises him kindly. "
And when you awaken, make what preparations you must. And no more drink."


She pauses, then adds, "
I'm glad I found you. Sleep well, Leo."


With that, Gwyn heads back downstairs and goes to the bar to talk to the innkeeper.

"
The man at the table I was with, the Maester,"
she said, "
What's his tab now?"

[Reader]

Masha Heedle beams with joy at the thought of the wild debt being made good.

"
Ah, you must be from one of the noble houses he was courting, he swore to the Seven one of you would be good for the coin for lodgings, food, drink and "
supplies"
."


"
Five gold dragons, plus a silver for the most recent vomit. I'll have to clean the damned thing myself, that daft Brenna will burst in to tears if pushed to do it."


She rolls her eyes unsympathetically.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
Five dragons,"
Gwyn repeats. "
If he'd spent it on drink, he'd be dead. I can't imagine lodgings are that much, since the tourney's been less than a week. What supplies are you speaking of? If I'm to get the coin for this, I'll need to know. Also, one condition. Sell him no more drink. Water, milk, juice...but no more spirits."

[Reader]

"
He's a maester. It were for milk of the poppy and other strange 'erbs, poultices and potions."


"
Not a drop shall pass his lip that is alcohol. It is no business of mine what he drinks, as long as he drinks and pays."


[OOC: persuasion TN 10 to get a little more out of her]

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn nods at the woman, relieved. "
I thank you for that much at least. In truth, he's been having a very bad time of things...I am concerned for his health. Some of the things he bought may have been for himself. If you could give me a fuller accounting, I'd be able to get some more for him."


"
He's a sweet old man, and he means a lot to me. I'd very much appreciate it."


[url=Persuasion (Charm) to cajole the barmaid to spill about Leopold][/url]: 6d6k4 19

[Reader]

Masha Heedle leans in close.

"
I don't think all of the milk of the poppy be for the patients m'lady."


She then conspicuously busies herself in rubbing pots clean and ordering her staff about.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn felt her heart sink, and she nodded.

"
No more of that either. Unless someone else is with him."


Part of her wanted to run back upstairs and hold Leopold to account right then and there. Part of her wanted to just leave and not come back;
leave him in the pit he'd apparently dug himself into. But she did neither. She left to go get some sleep, and try to think about how she could help her old friend find himself again.

(and /scene!)

[Reader]

[/scene]

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