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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 16:39:38 GMT -5
The afternoon following the rather unfortunate maester-to-be-suddenly-dying-during-some-minor-interrogation incident, Quentyn, Morgan, and five guards approached the Citadel. He was dressed in the finest clothes he had available, along with more secondhand jewelry than he usually wore. He cast the occasional glance down at his "salt wife" as they walked, not used to seeing her in women's clothes.
"Keep your eyes open," Quentyn said quietly to his men, "and follow my lead. If it goes south, these maesters aren't fighters, but they're too clever by half. Who knows what defenses they've concocted."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Jul 13, 2015 17:19:10 GMT -5
Morgan leaned close to Quentyn and whispered "I think you had best do the talking, at least to start with." She hadn't bothered to brush her hair, letting it hang loose around her face and shoulders. Often it fell forward to obscure parts of her face, but that would make her a bit harder for the maesters to recognise. She had insisted on keeping her dagger with her, convinced they were going to run into some sort of trouble.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 17:26:19 GMT -5
"Of course, my dear. As far as they know, you're just along to make sure the maester can help you manage the household." He told her with a wink. "Stay quiet as much as you like."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Jul 13, 2015 17:32:43 GMT -5
She rolled her eyes at him. "When we find the men who hurt me, I won't hold back." she warned.
She gazed ahead towards the buildings of the Citadel with mingled hope and fear. It felt strange to be back there.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 17:38:31 GMT -5
When they reached the Citadel, Quentyn shouted at the nearest initiate, "Boy! The Lord of the Stepstones is here, seeking a maester to bring home. Fetch me someone who can help with that."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 13, 2015 19:59:39 GMT -5
The adept looks at him and disappears. A short time later a slim man emerges. He looks the pair over, then the guards. "I am Archmaester Vern, Master of Maths," he said. "You would be Lord Quentyn, yes? And this is..." He looks her over. "well, rumors have always traveled fast around here, but please come in. I hear you seek a master?" He asked as he offered a door.
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 21:12:40 GMT -5
"I am, and I am. Could use someone to mind the ravens." Quentyn replied as he walked through the door.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 13, 2015 21:24:00 GMT -5
They go through a hall to an office. The archmaester has a seat. "I see." He thinks. "That could have been sent via a message, you know," he said with a chuckle. "I suspect you have other business?"
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 22:25:32 GMT -5
"Other business in town, yes," Quentyn replied, taking a seat and smiling, "But that's business with the Hightower, not the Citadel. Since I was in the area, figured I might as well come in person. See what my options are."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 13, 2015 22:30:49 GMT -5
Vern nodded. "Of course. The...lady has much to ask of the Ironborn, I suspect. It has been a bloody year." He thinks. "Is there a particular specialty you require of a master?"
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 13, 2015 22:45:29 GMT -5
He considered it for a moment. "Well, let's see. I don't suppose you have any trained in trade and navigation? One who doesn't get seasick would be ideal."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 13, 2015 23:00:11 GMT -5
"Our new class has several master cartographers," he said. "Is that close enough?"
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Post by Quentyn Cleftjaw on Jul 14, 2015 9:53:36 GMT -5
"Should be. Now, I've heard tell you're training women these days. Don't suppose any of the 'master cartographers' come with a pair of nice tits, do they?" He jerked a thumb in Morgan's direction as an example.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Jul 14, 2015 12:14:15 GMT -5
Vern smirked grimly. "The women are far from being ready to train; they just started about eight months ago. Come back in a few years and perhaps some shall have...proven their value. Three have had to be expelled already, quite sad."
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Post by Leona Redwyne on Jul 14, 2015 13:46:41 GMT -5
Morgan frowned and put a hand on Quentyn's knee, squeezing gently in the hope he'd take the hint. She wanted to know why the women had been expelled, but dared not ask herself. She couldn't risk revealing herself until they found someone more useful.
"Need someone good at healing," she said, mumbling slightly, doing her best to conceal her highborn accent. "Lots of wounds on ship."
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