Ser Garlan's Squire

The morning after Nathan's visit, Corrine took Daeron to the bailey to meet Ser Garlan.

"Ser Garlan, a word?" Corrine called to him as she walked purposely over to him, the tall, black-haired youth loping along beside her.

"Of course, m'lady."  Ser Garlan turns, a toss of his head flicking his Andal-sandy hair out of his eyes as he glances up and down her dark-haired companion.  "How can I help?"

It's his standard greeting, of all things.

"This is Jon Daleford. He's come to reside in House Marsten. I'd like you to take him on as your squire."

"Sev'n blessings, Jon," Garlan says, eyeing him more carefully now. He's not that much older than this Jon, truth be told, but his best impression of a man buying a horse -- or rather, considering the purchase -- is fairly spot-on. "If I...might have a word, m'lady? Jon, why don't you watch some of the lads spar for a bit, hmm?"

He lifts an eyebrow the Lady Marsten's way, waiting for the black-haired youth to leave earshot.

"This is...rather sudden, m'lady. I hadn't planned on taking on a squire any time soon, especially not with all that's been going on 'round here and the town since I took this post. I don't want to..."

Let you down. Shame my father. Disappoint anyone. Get people killed.

"...be rude, m'lady, but what is it about this Daleford lad that's got you giving me a squire?"

"You serve us well," Corrine began, sincerely. "You have the makings of a great knight and leader. I see much of your father in you. I do not wish to entrust anyone else with Jon's future. He is also important to a close friend of mine, to whom I swore Jon would have a good life here. He's had some sword training, and he's a smart lad. So, in short, I believe you would benefit from eachother."

She studied his confused expression.

"You're going to have to lose that doubt in yourself someday."

"Thank you, Lady." His sunny smile reappears instantly, as it to encourage or reassure her, not just in response to her kind words.

"Not doubt, m'lady, just...numbers." Garlan's smile turns to a grin. "Hours in the day, and all that. Squires aren't servants, they're work. Sure, he'll tend to my weapons and armor and such-like, but I've got to tend to him first. It's...hrm. Having a squire is a good bit like having a horse, aye? They save you sore feet and help you travel faster, but only eventually. It takes time to get them there, see? Training, like."

And time is in precious short supply. He thinks about duty rosters, weapons training, riding practice, patrols, equipment upkeep, disputes among the men, and -- oh, yes -- sleep.

"I'll find a way, though, Lady Marsten. If it's important to your friend, I know it's important to you. And if it's important to you..."

He leaves it unsaid, just smiles again and shrugs a little.

She nodded approvingly.

"Good. I had hoped I wouldn't have to resort to 'Because I said so'," she smiled jestingly.

"I know the nature of the undertaking, and if it becomes untenable, let me know and I'll see what can be done. Just give the lad a chance, that's all. I think you're ready. Delegate some lesser duties to your second in command if you must. I trust that you will manage."

"Much of his training won't be terribly unlike what the lads do most days, or much different from the practicing I do, myself. He's older than most lads who start squiring," Garlan shoots a look past the Lady Marsten's shoulder, another appraising look at this Jon character. "Which means he's like as not already had some training, especially since he wears a blade. But it also means there must be some reason he hasn't already been handed off to some other knight."

His one good eye shifts back to his Lady.

"What's he done, to only just be starting now? I'll not be cruel to him, m'lady, but if there's been some trouble while he was a page, I need to know of it. Know what to look out for."

She shook her head.

"No trouble."

Her eyes cast downwards a moment, thinking of a way to explain without saying too much.

"His mentor, Ser Antone Crabb, died in the war. He's had most of the training already, but just needs to have a role here, and have his abilities assessed. You get to judge when he's ready to be a knight, and then he can serve the House as his own man."

Garlan gives her a long look -- worrying about himself? Jon? Her? The passing of Ser Antone Crabb? -- but then he punctuates it with a nod.

"I'll take him on, then, m'lady. If it's what's needed, it's what's needed. And if he saw the war, he's like as not already half-trained. It shouldn't be any great hardship to finish the work another man started, I suppose."

"Indeed. Help him finish his training. It might not take too long. I do think it'll be good experience for you too."

"Time will tell, m'lady. But aye, I'll get to work on 'im. We'll make a knight of him, and finish what Ser Antone started, you'll see. tell your friend not to wor--"

Trailing off, he casts a glance over her shoulder, attention drawn by something about the rhythm of the sparring session off behind her. He's gotten plenty of experiences lately, not all of them tromping through the woods chasing terrible beasts. Some experiences have been at hearing when tempers are fraying, when hits are getting too rough, or when there's laughter instead of grunts of hard work giving the lads away; whether they're taking their fighting too serious, or not seriously enough, Garlan's become an expert at nipping it in the bud.

"If you'll excuse me, m'lady -- " his usual smile's almost gone, mouth a more serious line, chest puffed a bit with the lungful he's just hauled in to yell with, proper-like. He's about to let loose that 'command voice' she hasn't had reason to hear very often, and he doesn't want to do so in his liege Lady's pretty face.

"Of course, go ahead."

He's got it sorted out fairly quickly -- two of the men with a long-standing grudge, squaring off against one another with training spears, getting a bit out of hand -- and when Garlan comes walking back over, he's waved for Jon Daleford to join them.

"All right, lad," he says lad without a trace of irony, just like he does when he says it to men twice his age, "the Lady Marsten's told me what happened to your lord knight, and I'll be taking you on. You'll be up before dawn with me most days, that's when the courtyard's got room in it for personal training. After that you'll shadow me while I help the troops spar and practice and the like, and as often as not I'll also get you in against them. Afternoons it'll be time for the books. When I'm busy with duty schedules and rosters and the like, you'll read with Maester Ronnel, and when I'm not, you and I will talk over those books. A mind's a weapon, too, and we'll keep yours honed. Evenings it's off with the Septon with you, helping out as he needs after supper, and seeing to the Seven, as well."

"It won't be easy. You've already squired some, and you know that, but winter's here, and times are lean. We're all busy, plenty of smallfolk are hungry, and tempers may be shorter than we'd all like. You keep a level head, remember your station, and come to me if any of them give you too hard a time, aye?"

He holds out a hand for a shake.

"And welcome."

Jon Daleford shakes Garlan's hand without hesitation.  "Of course, Captain.  I am at your service.  I know that this a surprise, and perhaps inconvenient for you.  I will do my best to see I am more of a help than a hindrance.  I have been fairly well trained in fighting.  I am a good rider.  My archery is fair and I am a good runner.  I do not drink to excess, I do not gamble at all, and I spend much of my free time in the Sept in meditation.  I will do my best not to add to your already substantial burdens."

Resonant voice, lavender eyes, rich vocabulary, obviously well educated.  Perhaps a distant blood of the Velaryons.  They intermarried with everyone.  Pious... nothing new there.  The Dalefords are famous for their devotion to the Seven.  Thinks Garlan.

"I have no doubt you two will do well together. I shall leave you to get on with it, but by all means come to me if you are needful of anything."

She gave them both a friendly nod, and swept away about her business.