The ride to London is short and pleasant, providing ample space to engage in conversation, if you wish. The Marshal, at the very least, seems open enough. The king, though...there's something about the intensity of his focus on the road ahead that is unnerving. And Longchamp is hard to pin down. Perhaps he'd be more pleasant outside of the king's company. Or perhaps he'd be worse.

"Sir Marshal,"

Hailed Simon as they rode,

"Perchance may I borrow a moment of your time while we ride?"

The Marshal turns his great head to take you in once more. "Hm? Of course, lad. No trouble."

"Thank you kindly, sir."

He bowed from his horse, as much as one would be allowed.

"If I may sir, you said I would be 'dressed for the occasion' - I swore an oath and am ready to fulfil it, but I admit I am curious. If it is my place to ask, what task waits for us in London?"

Marshal let out a quiet sigh. "Not a pleasant task, lad. We're to have a chat with the former Jusiticiar at the Tower. His Majesty is a firm believer in using armed men as a negotiating tool."

"Hn." Richard grunts in acknowledgment.

Simon nodded.

"I see. You have my sword, Sir, Your majesty."

He softly pounded a fist across his heart, signifying his allegiance and willingness.

Your pledge is met with a sad sort of smile from the Marshal, but it isn't long before the four of you are passing through Ludgate and into the city. The streets twist and narrow, offering glimpses of opportunity and sign after sign after sign of goods to be bought, drinks to be sought after, bears to fight. But your goal, the White Tower, beckons on, dominating the landscape.

It takes about 15 minutes to cross the city at your pace, and as you pass outside the walls to enter the tower precincts, you see that its base has been much encroached upon by new buildings of every description, from housing to more than one inn, to a multi-story feast hall.

Richard actually lets out a gasp as he looks at it, his eyes narrowed and a purplish tinge of anger settling over his face. With a frustrated grunt, he urges his horse onward and before you know it, you are ascending to the Tower Dungeons, led by the Sheriff, a well-fed and richly dressed man. He seems to be doing quite well.

Ranulf's apartment is not exactly a cold hole in the ground. Well-tapestried and armed with a real bed and a writing desk, Ranulf seems to have been permitted some comfort. He doesn't, however, look too happy to see your party when he stands and approaches the bars, offering a smile to the King, a nod to Marshal, and nothing to you or Longchamp.

For his part, the King folds his arms across his chest.

Longchamp steps forward.

"Your crimes have been made known to the king, and he has seen fit to punish you, Ranulf de Glanville. Do you have anything to say for yourself?"

Ranulf opens his mouth to say something to Longchamp, but closes it just as quickly. Instead, he looks at Richard.

"How much, and when?" is all he says.

Simon held his position - it was not his place to speak for his king, nor did he know the crimes of the accused.

Richard laughed hugely, loudly. "How much?"

Then he was deathly quiet. "Everything you have."

Ranulf looks from face to face, finally coming to rest on yours.

"They have my liberty, my life, my oath of service. What more does a person have? I served a king, and for that his son seeks to punish me. Is there sense in this, Simon de Montfort? All I am and possess is sworn to him, as it once was sworn to his father. How am I to give this king what is already his? How could I deny his father what he asked?"

Cearnach wrote: ↑

Fri Sep 10, 2021 6:38 pm

Ranulf looks from face to face, finally coming to rest on yours.

"They have my liberty, my life, my oath of service. What more does a person have? I served a king, and for that his son seeks to punish me. Is there sense in this, Simon de Montfort? All I am and possess is sworn to him, as it once was sworn to his father. How am I to give this king what is already his? How could I deny his father what he asked?"

Oh no.

"Forgive me, sir - if you know my name, then you know that I do not know enough to speak of the specifics that lead us here. If my Majesty seeks my word I will speak what I know, but..."

It was clear that the young boy was uncertain, looking for permission to speak his mind.

But what was his mind?

(should I roll for any traits here?)

[You absolutely can! In this case I am not envisioning a particular result, so I would suggest looking at what Simon might want to accomplish with this scene and what Virtue or Vice would attend that action and roll against that to see if Simon can muster the oomph to do it.]]

Longchamp seems paralyzed by Ranulf's appeal, but Richard, who's word you requested, has a fire behind his eyes. This is exciting to him. Entertaining. He nods to you in approval.

((Rolled my honour passion, scoring 5/15 - at least, I have the Gumption to try it. Let me know what I need to roll to make it work.))

Seeing his King's silent acceptance, he turned to all. He breathed deep, to steel himself, and began. May the Lord have mercy if he erred.

"If I may... I would have belief that we must honour ourselves in this situation. Not just the internal self, the one which the Lord graces our reflection with in the morn, but the self that exists for others to rely on. The one that we swear service to, and the one that swears that service."

He turned first to Ranulf.

"I do not know you, sir, but I doubt that any liege would be so blind as to demand justice from a man that has done nothing wrong. I do not know how you wronged him, but what wrong has been done should - must - be righted. If you would ask for my aid, I have no choice but to ask with your compliance to fair and just action."

He then turned to his lord's people.

"I do not know this man, But I did hear what he said - when asked to deliver, he said 'how much, and when'. If he is willing to honour that word, does my youth deceive me into thinking it should be retained? If a man who is willing to give is left with nothing, am I immature to ask how is he to give once more? I doubt I was even a babe when his servitude started, but if he is willing to give that same servitude to you, who are we to slight each other in London when Jerusalem itself is weeping?"

He turned, planting his head on the floor before King Richard.

"Your highness, I am no position to ask anything of you. That you have given me the honour of providing counsel is one I cannot thank you enough for. But with this call to counsel, I believe the best I can do is that if he is willing to honour his pledges to you, it is only right that we do the same. I do not know this man, but I know myself, and what I feel is right. If I must speak plainly, we should take no more than we must to ensure just Lordship and just servitude is attained."

[+15 Glory to Simon de Montfort for threading the needle of Justice.]

The men around you are moved, though it must be said to varying degrees. The man behind the bars wears a weary smile, the Marshal seems impressed, Longchamp horrified, and Richard, whose opinion matters above all...

Richard lets out a short bark of a laugh. "Well spoken, de Montfort. I agree with your assessment. Of course, we must ensure that his oaths are true."

He chews on the thought for a moment.

This seems to irk the Marshal.

"What tokens are there that could ensure an oath is kept? Ranulf de Glanville is no liar. Is his word not enough?"

Richard frowns. "No."

This wasn't right - had his oath meant nothing? Had the words he had spoken been for naught?

What was this feeling of anger, burning inside him?

He wanted to speak on behalf of this stranger, but he daren't - he mustn't - mustn't he?

"Whose word could be trusted, then? Not mine? The Lord's, perhaps?"

He mutters to himself, uncertain if he must act or not.

Longchamp speaks, seemingly to the open air, as though musing aloud.

"Ordinarily, a man's oath would be proven by his deeds. It is difficult to perform an action in prison. But there is something that Lord de Glanville can do to put action behind his words."

Looking at Ranulf, he says. "You say that all that you have is Richard's. It is time to act on that reality. Pledge your fortune and your self, all that you have and all that you are, to retake the Holy City. That is the task Richard has put before the kingdom, yes? There is no better way to demonstrate your service."

"There is no other way," Richard adds.

Ranulf, perhaps strangely, looks relieved.

"Then I will take the cross, and give over all my fortune to Jerusalem."

Richard smiles broadly. "Excellent. Proof positive."

He turns to Longchamp. "He is to be released the moment the papers are signed. We can't keep a true servant of the crown in these conditions. See to it."

Taking advantage of the change in the king's position, Ranulf winks at you.

Simon looks to this 'Ranulf' stranger, as if looking for answers. Had he done the right thing, he asks himself?

Seeing the wink, Simon was unsure as to how to react. He gave an uncertain nod, and hoped he had done well.

Longchamp withdraws to have a word with the warden, while Richard tromps down the stairs, leaving you with Ranulf and the Marshal.

The latter claps his hand firmly on your shoulder as he goes to follow his king, leaving you alone, for the moment, with Ranulf de Glanville, former High Justiciar of England, now a crusader.

...Left alone, Simon thought as to how to start the conversation. Finding no real answers, he instead gestured for this 'Ranulf' to start instead.

"So..."

"So?" He smiles. "So I survive, and so you won two friends, possibly more. Not that I count for much, at the moment. Pretty good show, I'd say."

"F-forgive my hesitation sir, it is just - I have been a Baron for but a year and sworn fealty yesterday, and today I determined another man's destiny... It is a lot to take in, truthfully. Will you be alright?"