Post by Seek on Jan 1, 2015 20:06:38 GMT 10
Title: Altercation
Rating: G
For: Griff
Prompt: 3. George is arrested when Jon is prince
Summary: Jonathan tries to rescue George. Key word: tries.
Notes: Hope you enjoy it! Happy Wishing Tree!
-
Guardswoman trainee Erin Westover was feeling utterly dispirited. So much for wanting to be one of the Provost’s Guard like her famous grandfather, Ersken Westover. As far as Erin was concerned, things had gone distinctly badly.
She’d been assigned to Senior Guardsman Tal Felden and Senior Guardswoman Yvonne Birchriver. That, Erin thought glumly, had been a respectable posting—right until she’d slipped and fallen face-first into garbage when pursuing a suspect, and then had ended up both humiliated and put on desk duty until she recovered.
So it was that she found herself having to deal with a persistent merchant’s son by the name of Johnny.
“Look,” Erin said, as patiently as she could, “George Cooper is not up for bail. Neither is he permitted any visitors. He’s badly wanted by my lord Provost, and too dangerous to be let go just like that.”
“I’m sure there’s been a mistake,” said Johnny, trying to offer her a winning smile. His teeth were white and even and his eyes a very particular shade of blue. “As far as I’m aware, Master Cooper is a perfectly harmless business associate of my father—”
“If that man is a business associate,” Erin said firmly, “Then your pa’s been had real bad. With all due respect to the man. He’s of the Rogue, through and through.” She frowned at him. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be bailing out business associates anyway?”
He did keep his composure well, Erin thought. The lad drew himself up and said, as haughtily as he could, “My father allows me to sit in on his business transactions—”
“And who’s your father, anyway?” Erin wanted to know. “Even if I were to let you speak to the Watch Commander—and that’s a big ‘if’, might I add, I can’t just let in strange people claiming to be merchant’s sons. He’d have my head.”
“Ronald,” Johnny said, carefully. “Ronald Jassonson.” She noted the hesitation, and almost rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure,” Erin said.
“He’s a cloth merchant,” Johnny went on, which probably explained why his clothing was of good make, and probably more than Erin would make in an entire year. Weren’t there sumptuary laws about those things?
“Right,” Erin said, still somewhat sceptical. “So, you want me to let you in to speak with the Watch Commander—a ten year old boy, might I add—”
“I’m twelve,” said Johnny, outraged.
“—pertaining to the matter of one of the most wanted men in Tortall?”
Johnny nodded.
Erin was certain that neither Senior Guardsman Felden nor Senior Guardswoman Birchriver nor her illustrious grandfather had to put up with this kind of thing, when they were trainees.
“Look, Johnny, or whoever you are. I can’t do that. Please go away and have a nice day,” she added. Last thing she needed was some disgruntled, spoiled merchant’s son kicking up a fuss about the poor public service attitude of the Provost’s Guard.
Johnny drew in a deep breath. “All right,” he said, and she swore she could hear his teeth grinding together. “I’m not Johnny. My proper name is Jonathan.”
“Well, Jonathan, I still can’t let you in,” she said, firmly. “And lying to a Guardswoman,” she silently added the word, ‘trainee’ in her head, “Is punishable by law.”
Jonathan looked vaguely sheepish. “I mean,” he said, “That I’m Jonathan of Conté. Prince Jonathan of Conté. And I’d like to speak with your Watch Commander.”
…They’d never said what to do about this kind of thing in the training school, Erin thought sourly.
“Well, Prince Jonathan,” she shot back, “Am I supposed to believe that a real prince would just come walking in here without an escort or some other way to prove his identity? This isn’t the first time some of these rogues have claimed to be the Lord of Somewhere-or-Other.”
Jonathan flushed. He folded his arms across his chest and drew himself up tall. “Look, Guardswoman,” he said, at last. “Is it your job to give everyone here a hard time?”
“I’m supposed to not waste the Watch Commander’s time,” Erin said, defensively. There was something about how he was conducting himself, as though he expected to instantly get obeyed, that made her think he wasn’t lying. But those among the Rogue who practised cons had to be good, she thought. Or they’d be picked up the first time they tried that by a Guardsman or Guardswoman. “Besides, if you really are the Heir to the Realm and all of that, then why’re you concerned about the arrest of the King of the Rogue?”
She’d hit something, she could tell, because Jonathan was fidgeting with his sleeve now. But he stopped the moment he realised she’d noticed, and said, “Is it common practice among Guardsmen to be this difficult?”
Erin opened her mouth but was saved from having to reply as a sharp voice spoke up. “Goddess help us all, girl, you’d think you’d have just sent the lad packing in a few moments and saved us the trouble.”
It was Senior Guardswoman Birchriver, Erin thought, as her heart sank. Not another screw-up! And then her mouth dropped; Birchriver was accompanied by a grinning man, who could be none other than the aforementioned George Cooper himself.
“Get now,” Birchriver said, quietly. “And see to it you don’t get yourself caught again, your Majesty. I’d hate to have to explain to the Watch Commander about how we’ve lost the King of the Rogue himself from our own holding cells…yet again.”
George Cooper offered her a respectful nod of his head. “T’was an accident that first time, Mistress. Won’t be happenin’ again, that I can assure you.”
His gaze turned to Erin herself and then to the waiting Johnny who, Erin was pleased to see, looked just as dumbfounded as she did. “Oh, Crooked God,” George muttered. “Jon—Johnny, lad. Did you come to try and rescue me, perhaps?” he raised an eyebrow.
Johnny scuffed a boot in the dirt. “Well,” he said, “I had the impression that you were in trouble…”
George roared with laughter. “We have an understandin’,” he said, perhaps taking pity on the lad. “The Provost’s Guard and I. Not my Lord Provost himself, and not with any of them nobles, but the commonfolk and myself, why, we have an understandin’, we do. I keep my Court under control, and they leave most of us alone, ‘specially the Rogue himself.”
Birchriver cleared her throat. “There’s no need to be all explicit-like about it,” she informed George tartly.
“Indeed, Mistress,” George acknowledged. He offered Erin a wink and a charming smile. “Well, then. Time for me to disappear swiftly, before anyone else gets any ideas. C’mon, Johnny. You’ve got somethin’ to tell me later.”
As the merchant’s son and the king of thieves left the Guardstation, Erin stared helplessly at her mentor. “It’s just as well,” Birchriver informed her. “You were leaving enough of an impression on the heir to the throne.”
“I thought…I thought he was…”
Birchriver sighed. “He has his father’s eyes,” she pointed out. “And if you’d look, you’d have noticed that his shirt was a few shades off from royal blue. Faded in the wash, I wouldn’t be surprised. White line on his finger suggests he took off a ring—probably a signet.”
At Erin’s crestfallen face, Birchriver added, “You’ll learn, girl. Mother help me, you’ll learn.”
Rating: G
For: Griff
Prompt: 3. George is arrested when Jon is prince
Summary: Jonathan tries to rescue George. Key word: tries.
Notes: Hope you enjoy it! Happy Wishing Tree!
-
Guardswoman trainee Erin Westover was feeling utterly dispirited. So much for wanting to be one of the Provost’s Guard like her famous grandfather, Ersken Westover. As far as Erin was concerned, things had gone distinctly badly.
She’d been assigned to Senior Guardsman Tal Felden and Senior Guardswoman Yvonne Birchriver. That, Erin thought glumly, had been a respectable posting—right until she’d slipped and fallen face-first into garbage when pursuing a suspect, and then had ended up both humiliated and put on desk duty until she recovered.
So it was that she found herself having to deal with a persistent merchant’s son by the name of Johnny.
“Look,” Erin said, as patiently as she could, “George Cooper is not up for bail. Neither is he permitted any visitors. He’s badly wanted by my lord Provost, and too dangerous to be let go just like that.”
“I’m sure there’s been a mistake,” said Johnny, trying to offer her a winning smile. His teeth were white and even and his eyes a very particular shade of blue. “As far as I’m aware, Master Cooper is a perfectly harmless business associate of my father—”
“If that man is a business associate,” Erin said firmly, “Then your pa’s been had real bad. With all due respect to the man. He’s of the Rogue, through and through.” She frowned at him. “Aren’t you a bit too young to be bailing out business associates anyway?”
He did keep his composure well, Erin thought. The lad drew himself up and said, as haughtily as he could, “My father allows me to sit in on his business transactions—”
“And who’s your father, anyway?” Erin wanted to know. “Even if I were to let you speak to the Watch Commander—and that’s a big ‘if’, might I add, I can’t just let in strange people claiming to be merchant’s sons. He’d have my head.”
“Ronald,” Johnny said, carefully. “Ronald Jassonson.” She noted the hesitation, and almost rolled her eyes.
“I’m sure,” Erin said.
“He’s a cloth merchant,” Johnny went on, which probably explained why his clothing was of good make, and probably more than Erin would make in an entire year. Weren’t there sumptuary laws about those things?
“Right,” Erin said, still somewhat sceptical. “So, you want me to let you in to speak with the Watch Commander—a ten year old boy, might I add—”
“I’m twelve,” said Johnny, outraged.
“—pertaining to the matter of one of the most wanted men in Tortall?”
Johnny nodded.
Erin was certain that neither Senior Guardsman Felden nor Senior Guardswoman Birchriver nor her illustrious grandfather had to put up with this kind of thing, when they were trainees.
“Look, Johnny, or whoever you are. I can’t do that. Please go away and have a nice day,” she added. Last thing she needed was some disgruntled, spoiled merchant’s son kicking up a fuss about the poor public service attitude of the Provost’s Guard.
Johnny drew in a deep breath. “All right,” he said, and she swore she could hear his teeth grinding together. “I’m not Johnny. My proper name is Jonathan.”
“Well, Jonathan, I still can’t let you in,” she said, firmly. “And lying to a Guardswoman,” she silently added the word, ‘trainee’ in her head, “Is punishable by law.”
Jonathan looked vaguely sheepish. “I mean,” he said, “That I’m Jonathan of Conté. Prince Jonathan of Conté. And I’d like to speak with your Watch Commander.”
…They’d never said what to do about this kind of thing in the training school, Erin thought sourly.
“Well, Prince Jonathan,” she shot back, “Am I supposed to believe that a real prince would just come walking in here without an escort or some other way to prove his identity? This isn’t the first time some of these rogues have claimed to be the Lord of Somewhere-or-Other.”
Jonathan flushed. He folded his arms across his chest and drew himself up tall. “Look, Guardswoman,” he said, at last. “Is it your job to give everyone here a hard time?”
“I’m supposed to not waste the Watch Commander’s time,” Erin said, defensively. There was something about how he was conducting himself, as though he expected to instantly get obeyed, that made her think he wasn’t lying. But those among the Rogue who practised cons had to be good, she thought. Or they’d be picked up the first time they tried that by a Guardsman or Guardswoman. “Besides, if you really are the Heir to the Realm and all of that, then why’re you concerned about the arrest of the King of the Rogue?”
She’d hit something, she could tell, because Jonathan was fidgeting with his sleeve now. But he stopped the moment he realised she’d noticed, and said, “Is it common practice among Guardsmen to be this difficult?”
Erin opened her mouth but was saved from having to reply as a sharp voice spoke up. “Goddess help us all, girl, you’d think you’d have just sent the lad packing in a few moments and saved us the trouble.”
It was Senior Guardswoman Birchriver, Erin thought, as her heart sank. Not another screw-up! And then her mouth dropped; Birchriver was accompanied by a grinning man, who could be none other than the aforementioned George Cooper himself.
“Get now,” Birchriver said, quietly. “And see to it you don’t get yourself caught again, your Majesty. I’d hate to have to explain to the Watch Commander about how we’ve lost the King of the Rogue himself from our own holding cells…yet again.”
George Cooper offered her a respectful nod of his head. “T’was an accident that first time, Mistress. Won’t be happenin’ again, that I can assure you.”
His gaze turned to Erin herself and then to the waiting Johnny who, Erin was pleased to see, looked just as dumbfounded as she did. “Oh, Crooked God,” George muttered. “Jon—Johnny, lad. Did you come to try and rescue me, perhaps?” he raised an eyebrow.
Johnny scuffed a boot in the dirt. “Well,” he said, “I had the impression that you were in trouble…”
George roared with laughter. “We have an understandin’,” he said, perhaps taking pity on the lad. “The Provost’s Guard and I. Not my Lord Provost himself, and not with any of them nobles, but the commonfolk and myself, why, we have an understandin’, we do. I keep my Court under control, and they leave most of us alone, ‘specially the Rogue himself.”
Birchriver cleared her throat. “There’s no need to be all explicit-like about it,” she informed George tartly.
“Indeed, Mistress,” George acknowledged. He offered Erin a wink and a charming smile. “Well, then. Time for me to disappear swiftly, before anyone else gets any ideas. C’mon, Johnny. You’ve got somethin’ to tell me later.”
As the merchant’s son and the king of thieves left the Guardstation, Erin stared helplessly at her mentor. “It’s just as well,” Birchriver informed her. “You were leaving enough of an impression on the heir to the throne.”
“I thought…I thought he was…”
Birchriver sighed. “He has his father’s eyes,” she pointed out. “And if you’d look, you’d have noticed that his shirt was a few shades off from royal blue. Faded in the wash, I wouldn’t be surprised. White line on his finger suggests he took off a ring—probably a signet.”
At Erin’s crestfallen face, Birchriver added, “You’ll learn, girl. Mother help me, you’ll learn.”