Matrim Cauthon
Legacy Name: Matrim Cauthon

"General!" Mat exclaimed, holding himself up with the spear haft. "I'm no flaming--! I mean, I wouldn't want to usurp your place." He let them figure out which one of them he meant.
"Burn my soul," Nalesean said, "it was your battle skill that won for us, and kept us alive. Not to mention your luck. I've heard how you always turn the right card, but it is more than that. I'd follow you if you'd have never met the Lord Dragon."
"You are our leader," Talmanes said right on top of him, in a voice more sober if no less certain. "Until yesterday I have followed men of other lands because I must. You I will follow because I want to. Perhaps you are not a lord in Andor, but here, I say that you are, and I pledge myself your man."
Cairhienin and Tairen stared at one another as though startled at voicing the same sentiment, then slowly, reluctantly, exchanged brief nods. If they did not like each other--and only a fool would bet against that--they could meet on this point. After a fashion.
"I will send my groom to prepare your horse for the procession," Talmanes said, and barely frowned when Nalesean added, "Mine can share the work. Your mount must do us proud. And burn my soul, we need a banner. Your banner." At that the Cairhienin nodded emphatically.
Mat was not sure whether to laugh hysterically or sit down and cry. Those bloody memories. If not for them, he would have ridden on. If not for Rand, he would not have the things. He could trace the steps that led to them, each necessary as it seemed at the time and seeming an end in itself, yet each leading inevitably to the next. At the beginning of it all lay Rand. And bloody ta'veren. He could not understand why doing something completely necessary and as close to harmless as he could make it, always seemed to lead him deeper into the mire.
"Just bloody wonderful." he muttered, and took a long, choking swallow of the rough brandy. Talmanes and Nelesean seemed to think he meant as said, and Melindhra laughed agreement.
Some fifty or so Tairens and Carhienin had gathered to watch the two lords speak to him, and they took his drinking as a signal to serenade him, beginning with a verse of their own.

We'll toss the dice however they fall,
and snuggle the girls be they short or tall,
then follow young Mat whenever he calls,
to dance with Jak o' the Shadows.

With a wheezing laugh he could not stop, Mat sank back down onto the boulder and set about emptying the pitcher. There had to be some way out of this. There just had to be.