Gods they'd been on the road for a long damned time! They took a ship as far as they could, to Casterly Rock. Unfortunately, part of the trip had to be made by land. The problem with that was that his knee just didn't agree with horseback, or moving too quickly on them. They'd been forced to stop more often than anyone really liked, meaning the journey took twice as long as it should have. There had been the horrifying moment of nearly falling flat on his face when he tried to walk up the steps into the red keep. There hadn't been much pride left at that point. At least there was the small victory in that most of the keep was quiet. Many of the nobles had traveled to Summerhall for a tourney that Rodrik knew he'd never make it to. The keep was quiet, though, and he preferred it that way for the time being. He could let his body recuperate without having to bother with southern manners, for the time being.
It had taken a bit of work, but he managed to get their chambers relocated to one of the lower floors. After the trip to King's Landing, Rodrik didn't have the patience to bother with all of those stairs. He at least had enough pride that he wasn't about to let servants carry him. He could do a few flights, but he'd be damned if he was climbing to the top and back down every day. Their chambers had a nice enough view - nothing like the one back home. But more importantly, it was right near the solar where Reginald had been working to translate the text. He spent more time at that large table than he had anywhere else, so far.
He was sitting sideways at the table, Rodrik had reclined in his chair, and moved a second over. There was a pillow on the seat, and he was using the armless chair to prop up his still-swollen knee while he poured over a few books. The text they were attempting to translate was in a dead language. It was a personal pursuit. Apparently he'd been hired by a wealthy Ghiscari family to translate the book - though he wouldn't name which one. From what he'd gathered so far it was a dull enough text. There was nothing incriminating or terribly useful in it. He couldn't imagine what they needed it for. Though there had been more than one suggestion that the book needed to be translated to aid his patrons in some old blood feud.
His eyes raised from the page when he realized he was at a bit of a road block, and would require a book that had wound up out of his reach. Rodrik leaned forward, attempting to reach the text like a normal person. But he didn't want to stand up. He'd just gotten comfortable! Instead, he pushed a few of the books out of his way, and picked up the raven skull cane that he'd hooked on the arm of his chair. He grasped the shaft by the end, throwing the head across the table to latch onto the far side of the book. He heard a resounding thunk that might well have left a bit of a welt in the table, before dragging the book closer.