Sabitha's quick gathering of what he'd said brought Mortimer to laughter. "She's quick, this one, I'll have to watch my mouth around her. But yes, absolutely, to both. There are plenty of drinking holes in this winding labyrinth of a city, perhaps we can find one good enough for a couple of Rivermen. As for your sister, we can work out those details after you speak with her."

"Ah, I see then. We shall see then, if she's half as insufferable as her brother I'm sure the meeting won't last long."

Mortimer gave a smirk, refusing to outright laugh as his own jest. He would at the very least give this Alyssa Mooton a chance. There were yet many ladies of the realm gathered in the capital if things did not go well, regardless. "Please give your sister my regards, then, and we shall plan a meeting."

The suggestion got his attention. He had met a good amount of the Mooton family at Tytos' wedding, though he couldn't quite put a face to the name of Alyssa. Mortimer knew she was the youngest of his siblings, closer to himself in age, but had he actually met her? If she were as shy as Tytos suggested, perhaps not outside of a brief and formal introduction.

"I suppose an introduction couldn't hurt," he replied as he again tried to recall Alyssa. He had no reason to refuse, after all. "What exactly do you mean by shy? You appeared hesitant there."

The way that Lord Ryger cut the image with his words, Mortimer was easily able to form it again in his mind. He laughed at the thought, thinking on a time when his brother had stolen the key to the kitchens from their father as he slept, hoping to steal whatever sweets he could find laying around. He'd made it halfway down the hall before the castellan caught him, however, far less lucky than the boy in the tale.

"I've never been to Oldtown myself, but I imagine it provides many opportunities for men with an eye for the arts," he said as turned his attention to the scene before him, the workings of smallfolk moving at such a pace that he recognized none of the faces who now populated the square, save those with a stall entrenched on the street. "Perhaps I'll find my way out there some time, I'll be sure to make a piece for you if I do."

Mortimer couldn't help but smile at the way she spoke, her voice filled with the innocence of childhood that he hadn't heard in so long. "A pleasure to meet you, my Lady," he replied, giving her a slight nod of his head.

"Two, three, is there truly much of a difference?" He asked in jest, returning his attention to Tytos. "I suppose it's past time I find a match. My father hasn't been in much shape to deal with such matters directly since his wound, I'll admit I've taken advantage of that to avoid marriage. But perhaps it's time for me to find a match."

It wasn't as if Mortimer had used his time as a bachelor for debauchery, as some others in his position might. While there had been lovers, he merely enjoyed the freedom that it allowed to travel as his means could afford. But he was nearing five and twenty, and as heir it was long past time he be we'd.

"Perhaps the tourney will win me the eye of a lady of good standing. My family isn't a rich or powerful one, after all, I doubt I'd receive a good match on name alone."

Mortimer noted the way that Willem avoided his gaze. It was the mark of a good watchman, the sort that you wanted at your side if you had the coin to pay them or the prestige to earn their service. House Paege had men, surely, but nobody of that talent.

"My father swore by steel from the capital," he said as Patrek looked over his sketches. "Before his riding days ended, he wore a set of plate and mail ordered from a smith here in the city. Always praised the comfort of it while in the saddle."

At the compliment from Lord Ryger, he could only grin with pride, accepting the book when it was returned. "Thank you, my Lord. I assure you it took ages to get my lines that way. I especially struggled with drawing eyes and noses for a time, I fear I still have some way to go in that regard."

That voice was indeed familiar. Morty would have recognized it anywhere after the years together at Pinkmaiden. Glancing over, he saw that his old friend hadn't aged much, and yet he looked ever more wise. Perhaps it was the child that sat atop his shoulders.

"Tytos!" He called back, rising to his feet as he extended a hand his way. "Did you drink so much that night you forgot I was there?"

Mortimer laughed as he looked up to the little girl, noting the strong resemblance to her father. "It's good to see you, friend. And this must be Sabitha, gods she's growing fast. How old is she now, three?"

"Seeking some new equipment before the tourney are you, Ser Willem?"

Mortimer asked his question with a jesting tone. He had never truly gotten to know the knight that stood by Lord Ryger's side, leaving him to assume as best he could. Perhaps he would discover the extent of that skill in the tourney.

The Rygers weren't a house that Mortimer had spent much time with, unlike the Darrys or Pipers. His aunt had been married the late heir of the house, Edmund, but she had died along with him just over a decade ago.

With the mention of his own interest in art, Mortimer's interest had bee piqued. "Please, of course, have a look," he said as he offered the tome to Lord Ryger. "They aren't great works of art, but I do put effort into them."

He would find at least half it pages filled with sketches of varying subject. Trees and riverbends mainly, a few towers of brick and stone here and there. Smallfolk about their business and the sort.

Mortimer had been deeply invested in the sketch that currently took up a portion of the page before him. A father and son he had seen passing by, the boy struggling to carry a young goat while the father hauled a cart loaded with sacks of turnips. It was nearly completed by the time that he heard the song, one that he'd heard in taverns across the Riverlands.

"Lord Ryger, a pleasure to see you as always," he replied when he glanced up and recognized the face of the whistler. "And you as well, Ser Willem."

He gave the two men a polite nod and set aside his sketchbook, a slight grin forming. "What brings the two of you into the city today? "

"You're very welcome, my Lady," he said with a bow, returning his attention to her father. "I'd certainly enjoy that, Tytos. Give Minisa my best regards, as well."

Mortimer grinned at the response. There was a part of him that hadn't wanted children, with the responsibility that comes along with the task of parenthood. But seeing how his old friend interacted with his daughter made Morty consider the possibility for himself.

"Well I wish you the best of luck as she grows," he said with a laugh, reaching for his book once more. "Here, before you go..."

A couple of pages in he found what he was looking for, carefully tearing the edge from the binding. It wasn't his best job, but it was clean enough not to damage the actual drawing on the page, which he handed to Tytos. It was a sketch of a doe and one of her offspring sipping from a stream, one of the brooks that fed into the Trident from the Mountains of the Moon. Not easily identified by such a limited drawing, but Mortimer knew almost every length of waterway on his family's holdings.

"Consider it a late nameday gift for her. I'll have to prepare something more detailed for her next."

"Considering what I've known of you and her both in our youth, if she's even half as active and curious as her parents, the pair of you must have your hands full. In a good way, of course."

Mortimer laughed as Sabitha questioned her father yet again, knowing it was more than likely not the first and certainly far from the last question she'd ask of him before the day was done. Her curiosity reminded him for a moment of Joanna at that age, though when they were as young, he and Braxton were more like to tell her to piss off than truthfully answer her. It was a miracle Joanna had forgiven him at all for it.

Mortimer had moved from his original location, this time closer to the Shepherd's Way as he sought a new subject. He had found it in a rather perfect view of the Red Keep from here, and while the seat he'd found was no seat but rather a stack of crates owned by a trader, a silver made it so that the man paid him no further mind as he opened his sketchbook and got to work.

At first he likewise paid the voice no heed, assuming it was a lady calling out to one of the seeming thousands of knights scattered about the city like stones on a riverbed. But she mentioned his drawing, and he'd not seen any others today doing the same. Looking up, found no recollection of the face, only of the name once she had introduced herself.

"Lady Tully, a pleasure," he said as he shifted from his makeshift seat, giving a polite bow in response. "I am Ser Mortimer Paege. And glad that you find such an interest in the arts."

He turned the sketchbook to show her his work, a half-completed sketching of the Red Keep. It had its basic skeleton, and most of the detailing along the walls and towers. Not his best work, but the light had shifted in the time since he began, distracting him from getting as good of a look at it as possible. "It's only a sketch, and far from complete at that. But the view was too beautiful for me to not give it a try."

Mortimer tried to think of where in the line Marissa Tully was. He was certain she wasn't a sister to Lady Alyssa, perhaps a cousin then? She appeared far too young to be an aunt.

"Minisa, Minisa... the one with the red hair, yes?"

It was about as foolish of a statement as asking about the black-haired Baratheon. Mortimer had met quite a few Pipers during his stay at Pinkmaiden in his youth, not a single one had hair without some shade of red or orange in it. An obvious jest, but he couldn't help grin anyway. "I do, of course, I was there for your wedding after all. How is she, lately? Or I suppose I should ask where is she? I'd have expected to see her out with you on such a lovely day."

"I rather like the idea of such an exchange. Oldtown was one of the first cities in Westeros, if I recall my histories correctly. If not the first. I'm certain it has a quality unlike any other." Mortimer hadn't expected to strike up such a pleasant conversation with Lord Ryger, but he was now glad that he had. Meeting a fellow artist came so rarely that he enjoyed it as much as possible.

"I do, actually, in fact I often do my best work when I draw before an important event, or a meeting of sorts. I thought to steel my nerves before the tourney begins in full with a few sketches, and I must say it's working."

Mortimer gave her a smile as she asked how he got where he was. It had been not even a second or third thought, but he'd climbed up a couple of stacked crates to achieve his perch. Not so high as to stick out beyond the rising hill of the Shepherd's Way, but enough to achieve a commanding view. "Indeed, just a moment..."

He looked around for the crates he'd used, and was surprised to find that one was now missing. Perhaps the man it belonged to had come while he was entranced by his work to take it for his business, and Mortimer had simply been oblivious to the change. It was known to happen from time to time.

"Well it seems my makeshift steps have disappeared," he said with a laugh. "Would you like to join me up here, my Lady? Or shall I come down to you?"

Mortimer offered his hand to help her up if she wished. While there was indeed a gap in the previously perfectly stacked crates, it wouldn't be hard at all with his help to climb with one's feet. The containers were weighted down well enough by their contents to assure him of its sturdiness, besides.

"You speak so highly of the city, I'm sure to be disappointed if it doesn't live up to your high standards," he replied with a grin, his interest firmly grasped. "Perhaps another time we can speak more of your travels, Patrek. One doesn't meet a man of such learning and experience every day, after all. But yes, a pleasant day with you both!" Mortimer turned then to Willem and said, "I hope you can find the quality steel you seek, Ser."