Of Oaths and Fellowship
Fourteenth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
As he slowly drank the sweet mead and let the warmth sink into his bones, Ser Alliser Thorne, sworn brother of the Night's Watch and master-at-arms of Castle Black, felt more at ease with the world than he had in many a day, many a year if he was being honest with himself. The men had finally learned to get gracefully drunk after all these months in Sorcerer's Deep, not to mention approaching the local whores properly without making any messes for him to clean up, and for once he had no particular objection to either drunkenness or debauchery. The oath said 'I shall father no children' not 'I shall fuck no women,' and all the sanctioned brothels in the city used that alchemical concoction that was even better than moon tea to make sure there wouldn't be any bastards begotten in the course of business.
However, it was more than a cup of mead and his own discrete visit to one of the local courtesans that had put the knight in such a fine mood. The common room of the Red Anchor and just about every finer inn and tavern in the city was alive with the sound of the Common Tongue, spoken in the manner of each of the Seven Kingdoms. From where he sat he could see a dozen and more hastily painted shields leaned against walls or chair legs.
Mystery knights...
ha. He had eaten more mysterious things in winter stew and then shat them back out. Knights were walking around bare faced and calling each other by their proper names, dicing and jesting with friends, trying their luck in the circle, or just gawking at the marvels of the city. They hadn't all come here for want of Dragonsteel for all it would have been unimaginable to have that many weapons just handed out just a few short months ago. No, they were here to curry the favor of the King, the
true King, not the fat fuck in King's Landing who had so 'graciously' allowed Alliser choose freezing to death or being killed by wildlings over the executioner's sword.
The black-cloaked knight had been relieved to see so many familiar faces among the crowd, men he knew and trusted to stand with the King while he stood guard at the Wall, men who had been more lucky... or maybe just a bit less stiff-necked in defeat. For all that he had never approached anyone, not wanting to risk the temptation of touching upon his paths in a way far graver than any roll in the sheets could be. So when he heard a familiar voice hailing him from the tavern door he started, hand going to the hilt of his sword.
"Come on now, Alliser, is that any way to greet an old friend, and fellow former crab food?" Ser Hyle Buckwell called out as he approached.
In spite of himself Alliser laughed at the reminder of their common squiring under old Ardrian Celtigar, a man who earned the title "the Red Crab" with far more than his banner. Hyle had been the elder then, though the two years that were between them hardly showed on his bearded face.
If anything I've probably got more lines to show for it, scoured by the damn northern wind, the black brother thought, though even the silent gripe didn't have much bite to it.
"What are you doing here, Hyle?" Alliser asked, rising from his seat to shake the hand of his old friend.
"I'm here to learn witchcraft," the other knight said sarcastically. "What do you think I'm here for..."
Ser Alliser Thorne was not usually one for japes and jests, not even around his friends alone much less in a tavern's common room, but he had just been drinking fine mead and not so recently departed some very pleasurable company, so he twisted his hand in a subtle arcane gesture while adding a word of High Valyrian to the budding spell before releasing a
plume of colored lights into the air like a flower made of light. "You could be in worse company than learning sorcery I'd say..."
For a long moment Hyle just stood there as though rooted to the spot, then a wide smile flashed beneath his dark beard. "That's what you said about stowing away in that fishing boat to 'get a taste of a sailor's life' as I recall, and then you spent three days puking all over the decks."
"I haven't puked once since learning my first spell," Ser Alliser managed solemnly.
Moments later both knights burst into laughter.
OOC: Not having to spend his days trying to beat discipline and skill at arms into the scum of Westeros has done wonders for Ser Alliser's mood, but that is nothing beside how cheerful imagining the Robert's ignominious defeat makes him.