Remnants of the Reach

Though it wounded his pride to do so, Randyll allowed the rider to be shown to the castle of Duskendale, where he met him alongside Mathis Rowan and Axell Flowers. The Lord of Horn Hill was not a young man, but the past few days seemed to have aged him more than he had in years.

Seated behind a desk, in a hastily assembled solar, Randyll Tarly clenched his fist tightly around an inkwell. The clay pot shattered without warning, scattering across the desktop, and causing several of the lords gathered around to jump slightly. Randyll, however, did not flinch, only lifted his hand away from the table, dripping with black ink and blood from the shards embedded in his palm. He had expected this, could have expected little else really, but it rankled him. Still, the wall was a position of honor, and he had expected little else from Stannis Baratheon. With his soaked hand, he beckoned to one of the pages, who brought another inkwell and a cloth, which the Lord of Horn Hill, for the time being at least, used to clean the hand. He sat, continuing to observe Ser Wylde with hard eyes while his hand was bound tightly. At last he spoke, beginning to scrawl on a piece of parchment that had escaped the fallout of his wrath.

"Dickon shall take over the Lordship of Horn Hill, and I shall take to the wall. As for the rest of the men here, however, I was their commander. I would not see them punished for my actions. Let Mathis Rowan and Addam Marbrand here keep their holdings. Eustace Osgrey, also, has yet to return, so I can only imagine he was captured on the field of battle and you hold him. He and his family are well-known to the faith, and he is a good man. Let him stay behind as well - he will be of much use to you when it comes to dealing with the High Septon and the Faith in the capital. Cersei let them run quite wild." He attached his signature to the document and then sifted sand across the ink to dry it out.

"I do not know how much authority Stannis has given you to make decisions in this matter, so I have affixed these terms and recommendations to this letter, along with an oath of my loyalty. Lastly, I would only request that my bannerman Axell Flowers and whichever knights of my household may request be spared the Black," he raised a hand, forestalling Flowers' own protestation that he would follow his lord to the north, "That they might return now to my son, to let him know what has transpired, and to advise him."

He creased the parchment and affixed to it the seal that would not be his for much longer, before sliding it across the table to Ser Wylde. "I will accompany you to Stannis' side myself if need be."

"Then let it be known," Tarly said solemnly, turning to look at the lords gathered around him, "Any man who would still follow my commands is not to take up a sword against King Stannis or his rightful reign. Those who would follow me now to his side to swear fealty shall do so, those who would rather wait for word from Highgarden and the command of Lord Tyrell can remain here, along with the stricken Addam Marbrand, and I am sure the King will be here to take their oaths as well. It was my folly that saw us dip our banners to a mummer's dragon, and for that folly I shall go to the Wall." A thought crossed his mind then, almost amusing him, of a conversation held not long ago in which he had told Devan Lannister he would have liked nothing more than to return home, but that he knew he was like as not to carry a blade until the day he died. And now my watch begins, he thought.

He at last turned to the handful of knights who stood closest to him. No great lords, with mighty castles or tracts of land, nor captains of many men, these. They were the knights of his household. His hand caressed the familiar pommel and hilt of Heartsbane one final time, before he thrust the sheathed greatsword toward Axell Flowers, chief among those knights. "I am no longer Lord of Horn Hill, and so this blade is no longer mine to wield. Take it from this place, and bear it to my son's side. Remain there, to offer council and guidance, so long as he shall need it."

He turned then to Ormund once more. "Feel welcome to take a meal, Ser Wylde, or even spend the night if you need. Whenever you are prepared, I would have you lead myself and whatever of this company choose to join me to the King, to make formal our oaths."