The Tourney at Ashford

It was cold. Not as cold as some of the winters Oswell had seen, but colder than he had anticipated. Accordingly he had on an extra layer of clothes and had fortified himself with a warm mug of tea before heading to meet Cedric.

He hoped Ser Davelyn had warned the man of his coming, although if not, it was too late to do anything about it now.

"Hail the Kellington camp." He announced as he wheeled his squeaky contraption through the softened grounds after today's rain, huffing and puffing at the exertion. "Maester Oswell from House Dunn for Lord Cedric." He informed whoever came to investigate the disturbance he was causing.

It's Cedric himself who greets the old man, with a quirk of his thin lips that resembles a smile, and he walks round the maester to take hold of his wheeled chair with practice in the movements.

"Settle down, old man, before you raise everyone's alarm. Let's get you somewhere warmer, shall we?" He brings Maester Oswell inside his tent, where he has tea and treats waiting. Something overly sweet, surely, to cap the night. Once they're in, Cedric parks the chair in parrellel to the small table, in reach of foodstuff he might want, and the lord Kellington proceeds to flop haphazardly over his own chair, with no attempt to ply to any sort of behaviour a lord 'should' exemplify. Cedric simply is. The very definition of a spoiled noble.

"Well?"

Oswell rests his chin upon a bridge of his hands after being shown into the tent, his eyes were appraising of the young Lord, he had changed much since the last time he had seen him, although in fairness that was almost 30 years ago.

"This old man only has a handful of years on you milord, they may have treated me harsher, but not all are blessed with the same level of comfort that surely helps you maintain your youthful vigor."

He ignores the table of food for now, he had something that he very much wanted to get off his chest. "I want to offer my condolences for the loss of your father following the Battle of Redgrass." His voice is verging on cracking, but he is trying admirably to keep it together.