La Taverne (KOTF IC Thread)

In downtown Paris, hidden among a maze of small streets an alleyways, sits a small tavern. From outside it seems modest, perhaps even rundown, it's brick walls in much need of repair. There is no sign outside the heavy oak doors, only a small green branch signifying that wine can be bought there.

Anyone entering the building for the first time would be shocked by how misleading its facade is. Inside everything is emaculate. Tapestries celebrating such famous French battles as that of Charles Martel at Tours-Poitiers hang from the walls. Heavy oak tables with extensive carvings of a Dionysian theme are occupied by nobles from all of France and beyond, as well as occasionally by men of a somewhat shadier aspect. In the main room there is a large oak bar at which any wine one can imagine can be had (and even some of that swill Englishmen and Germans call beer), while the kitchen serves food renowned throughout Paris for its quality. Adjacent to the main room and bar is a small library with shelves of books stacked to the ceiling and several smaller chairs, while in the back of the building sumptuous rooms can be rented.

This is La Taverne, where the leaders of France and their hangers-on plan the future of the kingdom.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

IC thread for KOTF. No OOC posts, please, and all .org forum rules apply. :bow:

Prince Louis enters the tavern quietly, followed by only an abbreviated retinue. With a glance he spots the best table, a wide oval set in the corner furthest from the front door but not too distant from the back door, where one could watch all who enter without being immediately obvious about it. After pointing one of his men towards the bar Louis strides confidently over to that table, which is occupied by an odd collection of Germans, Venetians, and two French merchants having a whisper laden discussion whose pace accelerates as the Prince approaches. At a single imperious gesture from Louis all discussion ends and the men at the table depart with placating bows.

A nervous looking young man from the Prince's retinue, perhaps fourteen years of age, hastily pulls out a cloth and wipes the table clean. Louis then selects a seat which leaves him facing the bar, able to see most of the tavern comfortably. The three remaining members of the party take seats around the Prince's own, as the final member of their group returns from the bar and announces, with relish,

"They have it in stock m'lord. Two bottles. I've ordered both to be sent over."

The Prince's grin is wide now, but still he does not speak, only gestures for the man to take a seat. Patiently Louis waits and thinks,

'Now, let's see who comes to work and who to play...'

:egypt:

Gaetan de Rethel enters, wrapped in his plain brown cloak and hood, and does a quick scan of the tavern and it's unusual level of silence. Approaching the bar with measured foosteps, Gaetan motions to the bartender and begins to speak quietly to him. Although the bartender nor Gaeten actually look in Prince Louis's direction, it appears that is what was discussed - whether in good faith or not, that is only between the bartender and Gaeten.

After sliding a handful of coin to the bartender for a mere two mugs, Gaeten takes a seat were several other soldiers are, and passes one of the mugs to a soldier across from him with a smile on his face, and begins to animatedly discuss...something, for the soldiers table is to far away to be heard clearly from the otherside of the room. Within minutes, laughter echoes from the table as the soldiers and Gaetan begin to engage in song.

Hugues enters the tavern with his servant trailing him. Nodding to Gaetan and tracing a bow to the Duaphin, he takes a table between the two. Reeves brings two glasses and a bottle from the bar. After savoring his first sip, the Duc exclaims to no one in particular:

A good bottle wine of is wonderful, but when is this tourney to begin? How complicated is it to arrange an event where a bunch of men poke sticks at each other?

Reeves coughs and interjects:

Actually Seigneur, the logistics are quite complex. Food and fodder must be arranged for the participants, their mounts and the audience. Besides the actual jousting, there will be music, a baiting or two, an archery competition. . .

Hugues interrupts:

Yes, yes, but they're people for that aren't there? I don't see why it wouldn't take just a day or two to set it all up.

Reeves shows no expression:

Quite so Seigneur.

Gaeten spies Duc Hughes enter, and nods respectfully and with a smile to him. Motioning to the others at the table he would be back, Gaeten made his way over to Hughes.

"My Duc Hughes, interesting to find you here, I see you are anxious for the tourney as well - and good evening Reeves, everything well? You look a bit stressed - care to have some wine, or if you can hold it down, ale?" Motioning to the bartender, Gaeten laid some coin down for the drinks.

"Do not worry about money tonight, everything is on me. I was able to send some men back to the fields yesterday, and sold off the unneeded equipment. Should expect a good harvest this year, so long as it remains peaceful for another few months."

Hugues responds:

Reeves!? Ha, I can assure you his humor is sanguine. He's quite the stoic.

The Duc claps him on the back, causing Reeves to spill the wine he had been about to drink.

That reminds me, be a good fellow and go polish my armor, it has to look grand for the Tourney.

Reeves dabs at his tunic and leaves without comment. Hugues turns his attention back to Gaeten.

Your money is no good here Chevalier. No vassal of mine pays for his drinks while I'm here. Particularly if you're dependent on things staying peaceful for your fortune. You don't get these many nobles in the same place without something warlike coming out of it.

The door bangs open, and immediately there is a peel of trumpets and a deafening noise.

From outside a voice subdues the racket.

"Sweet Jesus that's loud! Girls, get in t’ere, you lot stay out side and keep the riff raff from coming in."

Entering the tavern with a girl under each arm the Duke of Bretagne is dressed casually, however a sword does hang from his side. More young attractive girls follow the young Duke inside.

Grinning widely he scans the interior.

"Alright ladies, spread yourselves liberally about the place and don't be shy, there's a tournament soon and some of these poor fellows may lose a limb or more. Give t’em a treat and be friendly!!

"Ah, my Prince."

A fluid and practised bow is executed.

"Lorraine, good to see you." He nods towards Hugues de Champagne.

"Drinks for everyone!! It's going to be a great summer!!"

Hugues chokes on his wine as the trumpets go off.

Mon Dieu! Duc Alain, is that your retinue or are you invading Paris? Though I must say your "soldiers" are easier on the eye than the average footman. It's a small miracle you made it through English territory with all this.

Tell me, will you be riding that monstrous poodle you have in the Tourney? That thing is immense.

Gaetan is about to object to Duc Hughes, but the loud blaring of trumpets and the boisterous arrival of Alain de Rohan, Gaetan's mouth slammed shut, and he resigned himself to drinking from his glass as he leaned back upon the bar with one arm.

"I thank you for your kindne-" was all he managed to whisper out before being accosted by one of the many women de Rohan had brought with him. Gaetan choked on his wine before swallowing hard and setting it down. The girl grabbed Gaetans hand and slowly pulled him away from the bar. A grin spread across his face as he turned to Duc Hughes.

"You'll forgive me my Duc, it appears a damsel is in distress, and I am never one to backdown." With a giggles from the girl, Gaetan slowly led her to the back of the tavern.

Beaming at everyone in the room.

"Excellent girls you certainly were worth the price."

Taking a seat next to the Duke he continues. Grabbing a girl and placing her on his knee as he sips some wine.

"Lorraine, the trick to getting throug' Englis' territory is simple. Make sure you can drink ale and make sure you 'ave plenty of young ladies with you!

As for my 'ound Madoc, 'e will be with me, but unfortunately I will not be riding 'im this time as my war 'orse would be jealous if I did not use 'im in this tournament!"

Glancing at the departing figure of Gaetan he shouts.

"Gaaeeton!! You dirtee man, make sure you don't break the bed!!"

Hugues smiles

The women I could tolerate, but drinking ale, that is too much to ask.

Hugues leans in a bit.

It seems the Order of the Fleur de Lys is popular, particularly among us Ducs. They will never be at a loss for patrons. Still, I hope that the Order remains free of too much Ducal. . .inteference. Each of us has our own domains to run. I think the Order should be guided by the landless young Knights who make up most of its membership.

What is your view Duc Alain?

Dropping his voice a little.

I was a little surprised by the Order's formation. To be honest, when two of four Duc's joined I studied the charter a little more closely.

Perhaps, we need to come to some agreement between ourselves or we risk impeding it's effectiveness.

He leans back and shouts.

Another round for everyone, and especially the Princes table!! We can 'ave the Duap'iin paying for anyt'ing, that's just not sporting.

He gives the Duc a wink.

Christophe de Perronne had been sitting, silent and unnoticed, in a darkened corner of the tavern. At the mention of the Order of the Fleur de Lys, he spat on the floor.

Can what I hear be true? Have half the men in the realm sworn an oath never to attack an unarmed opponent? HAH! This tournament shall be easier than I imagined. I shall simply batter them all to a pulp with my bare hands. We shall see whether they truly believe in this 'oath' they have sworn.

Gaeten returns to the main room in time to here Christophe de Perronne speak of the Fleur de Lys, and he grins sardonically.

"I'd be wary dear Perronne of speaking of fighting without sword, for with your serpents tongue, you surely are not unarmed - careful that they do not attempt to cut it from you to end the fight quickly and save you proving your 'maniless'."

Christophe grins widely.

You surprise me, Gaeten, I did not expect a member of the Order to reveal their false nature so easily. You threaten to use a sword against a man who fights ony with his fists. Surely that violates the fourth tenet of your oath? Or is it instead that you were simply lying about what you were planning on doing, and thus merely violating the fifth tenet of your oath?

Hugues chuckles.

I never thought about it that way, young Sir. . .uh. . .sir.

You're fighting in the Tourney? With such a devious mind as yours, perhaps you should consider the Law.

Gaetan's face spread wide in mock hurt and shock.

"Why on earth would I hurt you? Did I say that? No, for I know a truly unarmed man when I see him - others however, will not be so careful as the Fluer de Lys."

"And if you wish, I'll use my fists as well during the tournament - that way if I met you early on, I won't break any of part of my oath. Is this agreed?"

A young man entered the tavern. According to the servant girl who had prepared his room, this was the place to be for a young nobleman. He smiled at the memory of the girl. She had been an easy prey for his handsome features.

He heard what the man they called Christophe de Perronne said and he nodded silently in agreement. While he was looking around, he saw the two Dukes and their excellent female companionship.

Contrary to his father's beliefs, he was no fool, so he walked towards the table of these mighty men. He respectfully nodded towards both.

Hugues glances up at the new arrival.

Another Chevalier hungry to prove himself in the Tourney, if I don't miss my guess. Pull up a chair and have some wine, Sir. . .?

Christophe raises an eyebrow.

Ah, Gaetan, now you do make sense! You are saying that for the purposes of 'honor' some men without weapons are to be considered armed based on nothing more than your own personal feelings, regardless of what your 'oaths' may say. I think I understand the Order much better now! Tell me, where are the offices located, for I would like to join this wise group!

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by OverKnight

Hugues glances up at the new arrival.

Another Chevalier hungry to prove himself in the Tourney, if I don't miss my guess. Pull up a chair and have some wine, Sir. . .?

---

Thierry de Rochefort is my name, seigneur.

He accepted the goblet of wine and raised it.

"À la votre, seigneurs."

He sipped from the wine and looked at the lovely girl on the knee of Duke Alain.

"It seems like your mighty sword has already found a scabbard for the night, seigneur," he said, a grin on his face.

Tilting his head slightly the young Duke looks concerned.

I do not kiss and tell seigneur de Rocefort. That is one of my rules.

Slapping the girl on hip he pushes her off and leans back on the bench.

Are you T'ierry de Roc'efort by any c'ance?

Thierry watched how the Duke sent the girl away.

He shrugged, clearly not understanding why the Duke would care about rumours involving a peasant girl.

"Yes, I'm Thierry de Rochefort. I believe my father has sent you a letter?"

You believe correctly.

Do you have anything to say?

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by AussieGiant

You believe correctly.

Do you have anything to say?

---

I don't know the content of that letter, but maybe that's something that should be discussed in private?

Thierry grinned again.

It certainly warrants more discretion than what a noble man does or does not with some peasant girl...

Yes that's probably best. I would not want a brawl erupting 'ere about your conduct.

What I am prepared to say 'ere is that your father asked me to 'ave you serve in my Duchy.

My first t'ought now that I've met you, is if that is also your wish.

What say you de Roc'efort?

Thierry looked at the Duc sitting in front of him.

"My father sent me away for the most silly reasons one could imagine. Sheer idiocy, if you ask me."

Thierry shrugged.

"But I can see the merit in having powerful friends such as you."

Thierry looked around him.

"But there are other powerful men, here."

Thierry stared right into Duke de Rohan's eyes.

"Tell me, Duke, do you care as much about peasants as my father or are you a man who knows how to rule? Would your, for instance, hang all peasants who would dare to challenge your authority or would you show them mercy?"

The crack of his neck indcates a subtle shift in manner. The friendly and humorous blue eyes become icy. His voice takes on an all together different tone.

"If you are asking if I would do what your father described in his letter to me, then the answer is no.

And if you think I'm the powerful friend 'you' think can be useful then you are are sadly mistaken as to what word 'service' means.

I know how to rule and I know when to exert force and when show restraint as the 'case' may warrant.

Peasants are not that 'case'."

His tone reverts.

"So de Roc'efort, perhaps you should try and rodger Madoc over t'ere. I'm very sure he will try to bite your bollocks off, that mig't geve you a more interesting c'allange."

The chest high pink poodle stands at the mention of his name. He looks more than happy to lick a face or walk through a wall, depending on what the Duke wishes.

de Rochefort's latest question draws Christophe de Perronne's attention. He listens quietly but intently, curious to hear the Duke of Bretagne's answer.

[edit]OOC: slow on the draw, pretend that happened before the response.

Prince Louis watches the antics at the bar with an ever growing smile. Eventually, after a suitable pause for the more modest looking of the girls the Duke of Bretagne has brought settle out, Louis says something quietly to the thin looking chap who ordered his wine. Immediately the man stands and moves through the crowd, selecting girls of a certain type to bring back to the Prince's table. Four women, all on the tall side with long, dark hair are picked and sent scurrying over to the wide oval by the back door.

Then the assistant pauses to scan the room, eyes finally settling on the youngest of the tavern girls, a nervous looking fresh faced thing who has turned her back to the wall and is watching the proceedings with wide eyes. Rather than approach her, however, he returns to the Prince's side where the fourteen year old page has been standing behind Louis' chair at a position of something like attention. As Louis twists around to wordlessly place something in the boy's palm the thin man whispers in his ear, and then pushes him in the direction of the waif by the wall.

The Prince, with two fetching young girls taking their places on his lap, watches the young boy intently as he hesitantly crosses the room. When one of the girls leans down to whisper in Louis' ear, however, he abruptly spills her from her seat right onto the floor, and roars,

"Duke Alain! These two wenches only speak German! Did you bring spies into my tavern?"

There is an instant's pause across the whole place, but before anyone can speak the Prince continues,

"Bloody good choice if so, I wager I'll be sending their Emperor a few missives by way of these spies' secret pouches tonight!"

Laughing uproariously at his own joke the Prince picks the girl up off the floor and dusts her off rather aggressively, from head to toe.

"By the by lads, there'll be no fighting in the tavern tonight. Take it outside or you'll find yourself facing more than even your liquid courage can equal."

:egypt:

Thierry lifts an eyebrow as he hears the answer of Duke de Rohan.

"It seems like that letter was yet another example of my father's idiocy."

Thierry sighed and looked at de Rohan's poodle.

"I prefer to stick my 'sword' into beautiful girls, you can have your dog, if that's what you like, seigneur," Thierry said, while smiling innocently.

EDIT: as he hears the words of the Prince, Thierry nods in prince Louis' direction.

"My apologies, seigneur, I didn't mean to cause any trouble in your noble presence."

Christophe nods his in deference to the Prince.

As you wish, my Lord, though I doubt that anything the honorable Sir de Rethel could do would even qualify as "fighting."

"Louis, ze German's are goers...I tell you man, they 'ave some impressive skills."

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by TinCow

Christophe nods his in deference to the Prince.

As you wish, my Lord, though I doubt that anything the honorable Sir de Rethel could do would even qualify as "fighting."

---

Hugues smiles

Well Sir. . .Christophe. . .is it? We won't know until the Tourney, and then that's only a shadow of the real thing isn't it? I'm quite interested to see how my man and you fare.

Hugues turns to Louis

Your Highness, are you a betting man?

Gaeten raises an eyebrow to Christophe's comments.

"Are you trying to goad me into an outburst, dear seigneur, by attacking my word? I find it funny that my original assertion the devil blessed your tongue to be quite correct. Not once did I imply that it was okay to attack someone defenseless, but you are willing to step into the tourney, without sword, without lance, without shield, and so that I may not have an advantage over you, would do away with the same things - I could do no less, and nor do I think could anyone of the Fleur de Lys."

"I think, seigneur, where your confusion doth lie, is the degree of separation when to people are considered armed, and the interpretation of the code. You prefer to take it literally, to mischievous ends, where as I take it in spirit. If you wish to continue to take it literally, the Oath requires that I never attack an unarmed foe - it does not say I cannot defend myself from one."

Grabbing hold of a chair and twisting it around so the rear faced towards Christophe, Gaeten sat himself down and rapped his fingers upon the backing of the chair.

"I do so love to match wits with another."

Thierry bursted out in laughter as he was watching the duel of words between Gaetan and Christophe.

Christophe's face widens in an expression of sudden enlightenment.

Good Sir Gaetan, thank you for explaining how it is honorable to take an oath "in spirit." It never occurred to me before that there was such an easy and acceptable excuse for violating one's word. I shall keep that in mind in the future. I expect, of course, that you will be the first to rise to my defense if ever the "spirit" of my actions does not conform to the specifics of my oaths. We will surely be the best of friends!

Gaetan bursts out into bawdy laughter at Christophe's response.

"Oh come now, see, your only objective is to slander - your no fun at all. Your not matching wits, your trying to hide yours behind literalism and shallow reasoning. I would hate to see you upon a battlefield, and I pity any men under your command for such a narrowminded way of thinking. Come now, I am sure you could logically debate the whole charter, instead of dodging."

"Although I must admit, you'd make an absolutely stunning politician."

"If you have anything to say of some value, say it, otherwise, be silent - your souring the mood in the bar with your literalism. Have fun Christophe - here, I will buy you a drink if you want."

Thierry followed the discussion closely.


"Seigneur de Rethel, it is common knowledge that peasants who wish to challenge their rightfull lords' authority, use their tools as weapons. But tools are not really weapons, are they? So rebelling peasants are, in fact, unarmed. And they certainly are unarmed in the so-called spirit of your flowery Order. A peasant in rags carrying a rusty dagger while facing an armoured chevalier, is as much armed as a peasant in rags fighting that same chevalier with his bare hands. "

Thierry smiled at Gaetan.

"So, the members of this flowery Order cannot suppress rebellions, since peasants with rusty daggers cannot be considered armed in the spirit of your rules. If all noblemen would follow the so called "spirit" of your flowery Order, then there would be no more noblemen, since the first rebellious peasant would simply kill all noblemen while they are very busy being very chivalrous by not defending themselves."

Thierry laughed shortly and then stared Gaetan into the eyes.

"It is our God given right to kill rebellious peasant scum, armed or unarmed. Your Order rules are all nice and shiny but it won't work in the real world, seigneur."

Christophe wears an injured expression on his face.

Oh, please do accept my apologies, I did not intend to spoil a good night of drunken whoring. Believe what you will about me, but that is most certainly the truth. Buy me a drink indeed, and let us together raise our glasses in celebration of flexible oaths!

Gaetan rolls his eyes to both Theirry and Christophe.

"Come now gentleman, you truly want to play the game this way? All weapons are items, and as items, they are neither good, nor evil, weapon, nor tool, until a human hand touches them. And thus, it is the intent of the wielder, that determines weapon from tool."

"And yes - I would not attack my own peasantry, nor commoners, until they had moved against me, and I have every right to defend myself, and those in danger. Twist the words however you please, since you will do so anyway."

"And Christophe, don't sound so bitter. You make it sound as if the world had wronged you."

"I see."

Thierry pauses and then speaks again.

"Well, seigneur de Rethel, it seems like you and me are... different. I just hope the principles and the spirit of the flowery Order don't drag our Kingdom down."

Thierry shrugged and turned his eyes towards Christophe de Peronne.

"And it seems like you and me are... similar."

Rolling his eyes Alain.

"My god, can we please end this debate and 'ave a drink. It's like a never ending story!

You!"

Alain points to one of the girls he brought in.

"Go and sit on that man's lap, and trying and stop 'im talking!"

Thierry points at the poodle Madoc.

"And you, go sit on that man's lap (points at Duke de Rohan)."

Thierry laughs.

Gaetan shrugs at Theirry's comments.

"Theirry, you at least have a sense of humor, and can have a drink without remorse - I think there is hope for you yet! I have yet to see the dour faced bureaucrat before me so much as even enjoy himself!"

"Duc Alain! Is there yet more wine to be had? I could use a glass or two!"

Medoc bounds across the room and plants himself squarely on the Dukes lap, knocking him, the table and everyone else onto the floor.

Laughing the Duke shouts.

"Nice work de Roc'efort!

Give this dog some ale, that way 'e can smell the Englis' and kill them."

Thierry laughs loud when he sees the Duke falling on the floor.

While he's laughing, Thierry notices that his handsome features are drawing the attention of several girls in the tavern. A young brunette servant girl in particular catches his eye and he stands up, looking her straight in the eyes.

"Well, gentlemen, if you'll excuse me. The tournament starts early tomorrow and I could use some more exercise."

Thierry leaves the tavern. The brunette girl follows him silently but hardly unnoticed.

Prince Louis observes the escalating war of words with a faint grin, all the while freely availing himself of the charms of the lasses on his lap and the libation on his table. When the Duke's dog upsets the table he stands, this time dumping both girls onto the floor, and shouts,

"Ale for the dog the Duke said! Quickly now, and in quantity!"

Turning to the Duke the Prince continues in a wry tone,

"Now then, did you bring a bitch for your beast? Surely you've not turned to English customs already and were planning to share your own with 'em?"

Again Louis roars with laughter at his own joke, and in swinging his arm wide upends one of the half empty wine bottles on his table. The barkeep makes a face as the bottle smashes to the floor, revealing just how precious the contents must have been. Frowning at the mess the Prince calls, in a less pleased voice,

"Boy! Where'd my lad go?"

As a server in the bar moves to wipe up the mess the thin man whispers in the Prince's ear, likely explaining what some others may have noticed already; that the page boy had handed the young girl what the Prince gave him and left with her while the two nobles were engaged in their debate. In an overloud whisper which perhaps indicates that the Prince had begun drinking well before his arrival at the bar he replies,

"Wher... 'ey went? Not supp... 'eave w'out me! ... watch!"

At which point the thin man successfully turns the Prince away from the bar to conceal the remainder of their discussion. The Prince soon returns to his seat with a bemused look, and the girls return to his lap, laughing gently at what they've overheard of the discussion and his roaming hands.

:egypt:

Straightening himself up the young Duke scowls at Madoc sending it to the corner of the tavern. He then replies.

"There's not need for me to worry about that my Prince. The damn 'ound will rodger anything I tell it too, including Englis'men!"

A herald enters La Taverne, bearing the colors of the Duc de Bourgogne

"Let it be known that Duc Raymond de Provence of Bourgogne hereby accepts the challenge issued by Raoul de Châtillon during the Tournement. The Duc also offers to allow the challenger to name the time and place, if he would prefer to do so."

With a bow to La Taverne as a whole, the herald leaves.

Duc Raymond, it is an honour. I don't care much for time

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

(OOC: I'm online a fair amount, at least once a day. Tomorrow isn't particularly great for long availability, but on Friday I could be there all day say, if we want to get it over quickly. Keep in mind I'm on eastern Australian time)

. As to place, I have no preference either. Somewhere with a crowd/

"ow about the Council Chamber?!"

Thierry enters the tavern and hears the conversation between the noblemen.

Why don't you guys do the fighting in this place? I suggest you both wear a jester uniform and use pitchforks as weapons. It would make for quite a few good laughs to divert us during more serious matters.

Thierry sits down and shakes his head. He calls a waitress and orders a large goblet of water.

Raoul gives Thierry a fiery stare. If that was your way of asking for a beating, get in line.

Thierry looks at Raoul and bursts out in laughter.

You can take your chivalrous act and shove it, seigneur. I don't see why I would keep myself busy with playing soldier to impress peasants and some deluded noblemen. But go ahead, if you want. Swing your sword chivalrous. Just make sure you don't hurt yourself in the process.

Thierry laughs again and sips from his goblet.

What, you would rather have a bar brawl like a common drunkard? Name the bar, Thierry, and I'll be there to stuff your arrogant mouth.

Thierry laughs again.

Really, dear seigneur, you're hilarious. If you manage to defeat every chevalier in the Royaume and therefore won't find a master to swear an oath to, you should consider a career as jester.

Thierry drinks some more water and then stares at Raoul, an amused expression on his face.

The Romans had duels too, you know. But they were fought by slaves, for the amusement of both the plebs and the nobles. If you insist on acting like a fool to amuse us, then by all means, go ahead. But don't complain if some of us are having a few good laughs at your expense.

Thierry smiles.

You really don't want to reconsider the jester suit and the pitchfork? That's... disappointing.

Thierry laughs once more and takes another sip from his water.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

OOC: note: my avatar is drinking water!

Raoul walks up to Thiery and looks him in the eye briefly. He grins.

Normally I would bash your loud, arrogant head in for the filth spewing from your dirty mouth...

he turns away, adding:

...but I do not beat children.

As Raoul turns away his head, Thierry grabs his goblet and hits Raoul on the head with a devastating blow. While Raoul, who didn't quite expect this, goes down, Thierry jumps on him and starts to punch the older chevalier, who is bleeding heavily from the back of his head, wherever he can hit him.

Spoiler Alert, click show to read: 

EDIT: This is a little co-op with deguerra, for your amusement :bow:

Dazed, Raoul tries to fend off the blows from the younger man. Giving off a cry of anger and pain, he rallies his strength and starts fighting back. Despite his injuries, his size and weight pay off and he lays some heavy punches on Thiery as they roll on the tavern floor.

Allthough the fight started well for Thierry, he now started to feel the hard punches from Raoul. A devestating blow splits his lip and another almost breaks his nose. Tasting the blood in his mouth, Thierry realises that he's going to lose this fight.

Using all the strenght that's left in his body, he manages to get on top of the older chevalier and while avoiding yet another punch from the iron fists of his opponent, he manages to pull his dagger and points it at the throat of Raoul.

The older man stops punching and looks at Thierry, angry and clearly disgusted that the younger man lowered himself to this treacherous move.

"Don't move, you :daisy:" Thierry said with a soft voice, his breath rasping.

Raoul moves his right hand.

"Don't you :daisy: move, idiot."

Thierry moves his dagger and puts it right against Raoul's throat.

"Yes, that's what you are, Raoul: a complete moron."

Thierry takes a deep breath and calms down. Grinning, he continues:

"So, how does it feel to be outwitted by a child, old man!"

Thierry spits Raoul in the face and quickly rises on his feet. Before Raoul has the chance to get up, Thierry kicks him in the stomach. While Raoul reaches for his stomach, groaning, Thierry kicks him again, on the back, and again, against his head. Finally satisfied, Thierry puts away his dagger, spits one more time in the direction of his opponent, whipes off the blood on his face and leaves the tavern.

Observing the proceedings from a corner, a man in plain cloths stays long enough to see if Raoul is seriously injured or not.

Deciding the situation is not too grave he slips out the door.

Upon entering the tavern Alexandre notices the mess and Thierry who just brushes by at the door looking especialy proud and out of breath.

Well this is definatly the place.
Noblemen wenches and broken glasses.

As he proccedes to the bar Alexandre notices one fine dressed man lying on the floor doubled up with blood dripping from his head.

Thierry what have you don't now.

Shaking his head Alexandre grabs the man and hoists him to his feet and plants him on the nearest chair

Rough night seigneur?

Bar keep a drink and a bandage for my unfortunate friend here!

As the fight breaks out, Christophe de Perronne stops poking at the a wicked bruise on the right side of his face long enough to watch. After it is all over, he walks over and picks up Thierry's goblet, now marred with a large dent, and takes it over to the barkeep. After the goblet has been filled, he raises it in the direction that Thierry left the tavern before draining it in a single gulp and slamming it back down on the counter.

Groaning, Raoul slowly pushes himself to his knees. Muttering to himself, he staggers to his feet and addresses the door:

"I like big, fat egos like yours Thierry. When they fall they make more noise. And sometimes they never get up. Mark my words boy, if I catch you down again you'll be lucky if someone can help you to your feet afterwards."

Taking the drink offered by Alexandre, he gulps it down, while giving Christophe a hard look. Straightening himself and adds to the room at large:

"Tell Duc Raymond that I await his reply in my room"

With that, he slowly limps up the stairs.

edit: Argh! Beaten to the punch.

:egypt:

OOC: Making a second post so this doesn't end up out of order and look odd.

Prince Louis enters the tavern and makes his way to his usual table where a few of his customary companions have already set up shop. They fill him in on the challenge and the brawl that took place, and the Prince commands that any more wine de Châtillon orders this night be put on his tab before announcing more vocally,

"A round for every man here who fought in the tournament barkeep! And make it the good stuff, not that swill you keep for the bloody tourists!"

:egypt:

Stepping around the Innkeeper, who is throwing down sawdust on the pool of blood on the floor, Hugues takes a seat. Grabbing a free drink, he raises his glass to the Dauphin and downs it in one gulp.

Well, no more talk, just have to wait for the results.

Hugues looks around.

Awfully quiet in here. Perhaps this place is getting a bad reputation?

The door of the tavern opens and Thierry enters. He sees Duke de Champagne and nods towards him, a somehow hautain expression on his face.

Seigneur.

Not waiting for Duke de Champagne to respond, Thierry walks further as if the man doesn't exist and orders a goblet of wine. While he's waiting for his goblet, he starts talking to a beautiful waitress. Within minutes she starts giggling.

Hugues shrugs and shifts a bit so that his back is facing a wall.

Thierry sees Duke de Champagne's movement, takes the waitress by her hand and goes to a chair. He sits down and pulls the cute girl on his lap; keeping one eye on Duke de Champagen and one eye and two hands at the impressive bosom in front of him.

Gaetan enters and sees Thierry sitting with the waitress on his lap, and he seems to verge on laughing before subduing it and finding Duc Hughes, whom he bows to respectfully before taking a seat next to him, his good humor quickly breaking into a grin.

"It is good to see you my Duc, have you ordered anything yet? If not, do you mind if I?"

Hugues nods amicably, with three free drinks already in him.

We seem to be drinking on the largesse of the Dauphin, or at least that's what I told the barkeep.

A man heading out the door suddenly jumps to one side as a now bright yellow Medoc bounds through the entrance.

That signals the beginning of a train of six pageboys and finally Alain. Taking up station on one of the large tressal tables he sits and proceeds to grab a handful of breast and ass of the nearest pageboy. There's a high pitch squeal and a laugh in response from the Duke.

"It seems ze place has gone dead since we started voting.

Are we mourning ze deaz of someone I am unaware of?"

Thierry looks at the Duke and then back at the breasts of the waitress on his lap.

I don't know about the others, but I'm busy with interesting affairs.

He squeezes the bosom of the cute girl and she starts to giggle.

Gaetan nearly chokes on his drink at Thierry's words, forcing him to slam his cup down and cover his mouth.

de Perronne stalks into the Tavern. He barks some orders at the tavernkeep and goes and sits in a dark corner. When his beer arrives, he sits and drinks it alone. Those nearby can hear him mumbling quietly to himself.

...outnumbered 5 to 1, but still expects to gain "bargaining chips"... ...opportunity my arse...

Gaetan, who has been sitting in the back quietly drinking since having relayed the scouts reports to the Order, watches Perronne with a careful eye.

"Dear Perronne, what on earth could possibly trouble you at such a wonderful hour? Drink, and wipe that sour look from your face!"

de Perronne spits on the floor in the direction of de Rethel.

It is telling that you would consider the announcement of treason against the King and war with Empire to be a wonderful hour. Those of us who are loyal vassals have other feelings about the matter.

Quote:

---

Originally Posted by TinCow

de Perronne spits on the floor in the direction of de Rethel.

It is telling that you would consider the announcement of treason against the King and war with Empire to be a wonderful hour. Those of us who are loyal vassals have other feelings about the matter.

---

Gaatan leans in close, his feature made of stone, his eyes cold pits.

"Loyal indeed. Maybe you missed my sarcasm, de Perronne, but I see that instead of being a man of hope, you are a man of despair. I do not care what number the Germans bring, at least I know I will be on the frontlines with my brothers, defending the Royaume with our blood - of you, I cannot say the same, as you sit cozily in Valencia, far from the fighting and next to allies."