Post by Tyber Sinclair on Oct 9, 2017 18:01:11 GMT -5
One thing for certain, Sir Tyber Sinclair knew about hard riding. It was said Sinclairs were practically born in the saddle, and it was a good thing same was said for a lot of people in County Ashworth, for that matter. Which was a very good thing. Departing from Bordelaix on a frigid dawn, he and the lance he had gathered up had made excellent time heading south. But then again, they had a sizable string of remounts and replacement horses for their cart. And it meant that Tyber and the lance he had gathered up - composed of a trusted man-at-arms, his own squire and his man's, an archer, a page and a valet attached to the Sinclair knight, as befitted a nobleman of his rank - had made excellent time. After all, each was an accomplished rider, save for the valet and the page but between the two of them, they could manage the cart quite well.
As they had ridden the weather had started to turn genuinely wintry. For much of it, a mix of frigid rain that turned to ice shortly after falling down, mixed with an unpleasant sleet. At least, they managed to stay in inns most nights and had a chance to dry out their clothes between days of cold, wet riding. But finally, after nearly a week, they rode into Llwyn Newyth. And now, another problem had to be addressed: he had to find his wayward cousin. That was why he'd made it so far south before starting his search: he did not expect him to make it off the mainland, so starting as far from Bordelaix as possible and working his way north made plenty of sense.
But how to even start? Freddy being a noble himself, odds are he'd have made contact with the local lords, so that was a viable starting point in its own right. But they could hardly ride to the castle in the state they were in; their traveling clothes were stained and reeked of we horse and the linseed oil that had been constantly rubbed into their saddles, and they all desperately needed to bathe and shave before they could be in the presence of nobility. And a chance to truly warm up.
Waiting at the city gates, Tyber, the squires and the other man-at-arms waited with the wagon while the valet and the page sought out proper accommodations; but before long, they returned to lead their betters to one of the better establishments, an inn that was a small walled compound within the city, with the primary building along one edge, and the other sides being lined with facilities to support the inn itself and the travelers within, from a bathhouse to stables and livery, to its own brew and smokehouses.
And it was about time, for another squall was rolling in, and the riders were exhausted.
Frederick Sinclair Rossalyn Adara Penrose
As they had ridden the weather had started to turn genuinely wintry. For much of it, a mix of frigid rain that turned to ice shortly after falling down, mixed with an unpleasant sleet. At least, they managed to stay in inns most nights and had a chance to dry out their clothes between days of cold, wet riding. But finally, after nearly a week, they rode into Llwyn Newyth. And now, another problem had to be addressed: he had to find his wayward cousin. That was why he'd made it so far south before starting his search: he did not expect him to make it off the mainland, so starting as far from Bordelaix as possible and working his way north made plenty of sense.
But how to even start? Freddy being a noble himself, odds are he'd have made contact with the local lords, so that was a viable starting point in its own right. But they could hardly ride to the castle in the state they were in; their traveling clothes were stained and reeked of we horse and the linseed oil that had been constantly rubbed into their saddles, and they all desperately needed to bathe and shave before they could be in the presence of nobility. And a chance to truly warm up.
Waiting at the city gates, Tyber, the squires and the other man-at-arms waited with the wagon while the valet and the page sought out proper accommodations; but before long, they returned to lead their betters to one of the better establishments, an inn that was a small walled compound within the city, with the primary building along one edge, and the other sides being lined with facilities to support the inn itself and the travelers within, from a bathhouse to stables and livery, to its own brew and smokehouses.
And it was about time, for another squall was rolling in, and the riders were exhausted.
Frederick Sinclair Rossalyn Adara Penrose
