|
|
Post by oznerol on Jun 21, 2021 2:45:45 GMT -5
Estermont released his bird, who mounted fly in the earnest, raising in circles, looking for prey.
"Aye, I do"
He narrowed his eyes, following the falcon's now distant figure.
"They also hunted with leopards. Chained, like pets. A triarch carried one behind his saddle and released it like a hound. Smart beasts they were. Like the elephants or the talking birds"
He still remembered the smell of burning flesh and molten steel. That day he knew no-one would be able to oppose Daenerys Stormborn. She flew in that black beast of hers and laid waste to the power of Volantis.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jun 21, 2021 15:48:34 GMT -5
Catheryne watched the birds soar through the air, scanning the ground for their prey. When she heard the men's conversation, she turned around, intrigued.
"Sounds like Essos is quite exotic compared to the Reach. What did you prefer then, hunting at Storm's End or in Volantis?"
A few moments later, she asked another question.
"Did you ever see the dragons with your own eyes, sers? I was too young back then, but I heard the tales. Larger than castles, breathing fire that can melt stone. And all commanded by Daenerys Stormborn. Supposedly one of them is still out there, guarding the treasures of House Targaryen."
|
|
|
|
Post by oznerol on Jun 21, 2021 17:02:10 GMT -5
"My heart is where my home is"
Said Estermont.
"I miss the land where I grew. Even if I spend more time at Stannis' court and his brother's. My cousins both, good men"
He sounded nostalgic.
"Don't let an old man drag you down today, lass"
Andrew followed the falcon with sharp eyes.
"I saw dragons. Close. Edric too. I will not say anything else"
He remembered. His men, turned grotesque masses of steel and molten flesh. He remembered how eyeballs would pop, cooked in the helmet, and run down the face, which was also being toasted to a crisp. The smell. The smell. He would never forget that. Ever since he never tried meat. Could not stomach it.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 22, 2021 7:03:46 GMT -5
”Some things are better off left in the ancient stories. Dragons are one of them.”
Edric answered unlike his usual self, evasive and aloof. Drogon had been the Black Dread come again, a bringer of nightmare and death. He and Estermont had been among the fortunate ones, having escaped the field unscathed by dragonflame. Storm shuddered as he turned his thoughts away from the blackened fields of Volantis.
”I would give my good ear to return to Storm’s End, but alas, my good cousin would see me more as a rival than a kinsman.” There was a screech somewhere in the distance. One of the birds had caught its prey. ”I fear my home is large enough for only one Baratheon.” Storm chuckled mirthlessly. As it had always been. Robert, Renly and Stannis were not ones to share.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 25, 2021 7:38:47 GMT -5
Edric returned from Oldtown up the Honeywine, sailing a barge they had bartered from a guildsman at the harbour. The dozen or so that had departed southwards a week before approached Brightwater on horseback in good spirits, the self proclaimed Lord summoning his betrothed to his solar immediately upon his return.
|
|
|
|
Post by AxBrew Sunster on Jun 26, 2021 14:28:09 GMT -5
A small contingent of men under the striding huntsman of House Tarly approached Brightwater keep. A handful of men broke off and moved further forward, approaching the gates. As the figures resolved slowly into people, it became clear that the young Lord Tarly was at their head, Heartsbane returned to its rightful place in the large sheath hanging from his saddle. He hailed the guards as he approached, raising an open hand. "I have come in response to an offer extended by your Lord." He called up.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 28, 2021 5:33:24 GMT -5
Tarly's party is watched from afar by bands of men on horseback, specks in the distance clad in leather and mail that keep a watchful eye on Lord Edric's lands. Their approach to Brightwater is observed but unhindered. It was still a lordly seat, even if the stone still bore the marks of multiple sieges and sackings. The tattered Florent banners had been torn down to be replaced by the golden rose of Tyrell, accompanies by a similarly coloured Baratheon stag on green. It almost looked respectable, if the grizzled faces looking down from the ramparts did not appear so foreign in manner and dress.
The gates creaked open in reply, as several knights rode out in greeting. Some were garbed in plain familiarity, others were not; garish silks, excessive jewellery and a lord's ransom in golden arm rings. Old habits died hard, it seemed, for it was the custom of mercenaries to wear their worldly wealth upon their person. They took Tarly's horses to be watered and stabled while the Lord himself were led through an extended courtyard toward the inner castle; a stout and square keep that was likely the genesis of the sprawling complex that now sat at the source of the Honeywine.
"Hail, Lord Tarly." Boomed a voice in greeting. Storm was seated at the head of a rather empty hall, on a throne in which the old and faded Fox of Florent could still be made out within the woodwork. Next to him sat the Lady Catheryne, and attending them presently were her aunt Margaery and Edric's own cousin Estermont, who had since married and borne themselves a son. Edric rose, spreading his arms wide in a welcoming gesture as the guests were bought forward.
"You have my hospitality. Take food and wine, and a seat with us."
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jun 29, 2021 4:56:03 GMT -5
Edric returned from Oldtown up the Honeywine, sailing a barge they had bartered from a guildsman at the harbour. The dozen or so that had departed southwards a week before approached Brightwater on horseback in good spirits, the self proclaimed Lord summoning his betrothed to his solar immediately upon his return. Lady Catheryne, in the middle of studying with her aunt and great-grandmother, put down her texts and make her way to the lord's solar. As she enters the chambers, she gives a small nod of acknowledgement of his presence. Over the course of her captivity, the young girl had been instructed by her older kin to act more like the Lady of Highgarden, even if it felt like a mummer's show. "Good day, ser. I hope your journey was uneventful."A simple courtesy for now. While still betrothed, there was always a small glimmer of hope that she would one day free from these bonds, to decide her own fate. Alas, for now she was chained. "Any good news from Oldtown? What happened at the summit?"She had been very frustrated that she had been forced to stay at Brightwater, unable to speak for herself and make her own claim heard.
A small delegation arrive outside Brightwater Keep from the south, bearing the banners of House Hightower and House Blackcrown. The head of the delegation, a large man, bald with a big ashen-black beard, dressed in simple journey clothes take a few steps forward. "Ser Ulrick Ashford, sworn knight of House Bulwer of Blackcrown, seeks an audience with Lady Tyrell of Highgarden and Lord Storm of Brightwater Keep, in the name of Lady Rhonda Hightower of Oldtown."
|
|
|
|
Post by AxBrew Sunster on Jun 29, 2021 18:15:04 GMT -5
Tarly had transferred his sword from the long saddle sheath to a thick leather sheath over his back, so that the hilt protruded over his right shoulder. It was a gesture made for his own comfort more than anything else, as he could hardly have drawn it expediently if presented with a threat. He smiled slightly when Storm declared his hospitality, and his bearing seemed to relax somewhat, although his posture remained straight. His eyes flickered towards his niece, sitting at the high table as was proper for the betrothed of a lord, although she, of course, was the one lending Storm legitimacy in this case. He took in the sparse hall, and the lingering marks of House Florent's Then his gaze returned to Storm. "I thank you, Lord Storm," he responded, his own voice crisp and clear, but lacking the booming nature of Edric's bellow. He paused a moment, then decided it was best to be frank and honest. "I thought it wisest to meet here, as any attempt by the faith to claim more lands in the more mundane way will likely be directed here, and towards my niece."
As introductions were made, the rest of the more distinguished guests made their way to the hall, including Talla, former wife of Willas, who was briefly Lord of Highgarden. She smiled widely to see her daughter and began to make her way across the room, stopping as she remembered propriety and turning expectantly towards her younger brother and Storm, waiting for formal introductions to pass.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 30, 2021 13:54:27 GMT -5
Edric returned from Oldtown up the Honeywine, sailing a barge they had bartered from a guildsman at the harbour. The dozen or so that had departed southwards a week before approached Brightwater on horseback in good spirits, the self proclaimed Lord summoning his betrothed to his solar immediately upon his return. Lady Catheryne, in the middle of studying with her aunt and great-grandmother, put down her texts and make her way to the lord's solar. As she enters the chambers, she gives a small nod of acknowledgement of his presence. Over the course of her captivity, the young girl had been instructed by her older kin to act more like the Lady of Highgarden, even if it felt like a mummer's show. "Good day, ser. I hope your journey was uneventful."A simple courtesy for now. While still betrothed, there was always a small glimmer of hope that she would one day free from these bonds, to decide her own fate. Alas, for now she was chained. "Any good news from Oldtown? What happened at the summit?"She had been very frustrated that she had been forced to stay at Brightwater, unable to speak for herself and make her own claim heard.
A small delegation arrive outside Brightwater Keep from the south, bearing the banners of House Hightower and House Blackcrown. The head of the delegation, a large man, bald with a big ashen-black beard, dressed in simple journey clothes take a few steps forward. "Ser Ulrick Ashford, sworn knight of House Bulwer of Blackcrown, seeks an audience with Lady Tyrell of Highgarden and Lord Storm of Brightwater Keep, in the name of Lady Rhonda Hightower of Oldtown." He sounded earnest, at least, and met her gaze with his own. There was nothing to gain in obscuring the full picture from her.
Ashford was bought into the main hall to meet with the King’s bastard; similarly dark and thickly set but around half a head taller. The Baratheon blood ran strong, as Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark had known, even when tainted with the stain of base birth. Ned Storm was dressed for war, standing head to foot in plate and mail in the Tyroshi style, a fluted suit of whitened steel that he had plundered from the vaults of the Archon. A dozen knights and grizzled sellswords surrounded him, talking in hushed tongues in what presumably was some form of war council. “Ashford. Come forward.” Called Edric, silencing his followers with the command.Tarly had transferred his sword from the long saddle sheath to a thick leather sheath over his back, so that the hilt protruded over his right shoulder. It was a gesture made for his own comfort more than anything else, as he could hardly have drawn it expediently if presented with a threat. He smiled slightly when Storm declared his hospitality, and his bearing seemed to relax somewhat, although his posture remained straight. His eyes flickered towards his niece, sitting at the high table as was proper for the betrothed of a lord, although she, of course, was the one lending Storm legitimacy in this case. He took in the sparse hall, and the lingering marks of House Florent's Then his gaze returned to Storm. "I thank you, Lord Storm," he responded, his own voice crisp and clear, but lacking the booming nature of Edric's bellow. He paused a moment, then decided it was best to be frank and honest. "I thought it wisest to meet here, as any attempt by the faith to claim more lands in the more mundane way will likely be directed here, and towards my niece."As introductions were made, the rest of the more distinguished guests made their way to the hall, including Talla, former wife of Willas, who was briefly Lord of Highgarden. She smiled widely to see her daughter and began to make her way across the room, stopping as she remembered propriety and turning expectantly towards her younger brother and Storm, waiting for formal introductions to pass.
“Safer than leading our lady into the lion’s den. I trust not any promise of safe passage from those Godly men.” Agreed the Stormlander, who moved forward with surprising grace to greet the widow of Lord Willas - potentially his future goodmother, should all go as intended. Ironic, considering they were closer in age than he and his betrothed. “My lady Tyrell. It is my honour. But I shall not stand between you and your daughter any longer.” He stepped backwards, gesturing to her young daughter that had remained seated beside Brightwater’s throne, and elected to keep a respectful distance.
|
|
|
|
Post by AxBrew Sunster on Jul 2, 2021 19:26:57 GMT -5
Dickon stepped aside likewise, standing near Storm as Talla stepped hesitantly forward towards Catheryne. It seemed strange to her, to see her little girl sitting at a high table as the lady of a hall. She reeled slightly, thinking of how long it had been since she had last seen her daughter, since the world had turned sideways and she had found her way back to her brother's keep at Horn Hill. In those days she had thought Cath lost to her along with Willas. Yet here she was, as everyone was saying, and it seemed she had found herself in the middle of squabbling nobles and holy men. And had done so without her mother at her side. At last she paused, looking Catheryne up and down, coming to realize that she was a little girl no longer, forced to take up the role of a woman before her time. "Hello dearest," Talla said quietly, "Are you well?" The weight of her gaze indicated the true question she wanted to ask, but could not bring herself to, not yet, perhaps not ever.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jul 3, 2021 4:18:41 GMT -5
“The Faith have decreed that you are to be governed by a council of clergymen, and to be put into the care of the Septons in Oldtown.” Edric began, dabbing away the sweat with a cold towel. One of the serving girls was busying herself by filling a tub full of water, presumably for a bath. “Redwyne wanted no compromise or peace. They want Highgarden. Lord Tarly, however, we may come to an accord with. He considers the rampaging peasants and your grasping cousins the greater threat, and believes me a good ally to destroy them and restore your rule. I hope that you will aid me in convincing him of the truth of this.” He sounded earnest, at least, and met her gaze with his own. There was nothing to gain in obscuring the full picture from her.
Ashford was bought into the main hall to meet with the King’s bastard; similarly dark and thickly set but around half a head taller. The Baratheon blood ran strong, as Jon Arryn and Eddard Stark had known, even when tainted with the stain of base birth. Ned Storm was dressed for war, standing head to foot in plate and mail in the Tyroshi style, a fluted suit of whitened steel that he had plundered from the vaults of the Archon. A dozen knights and grizzled sellswords surrounded him, talking in hushed tongues in what presumably was some form of war council. “Ashford. Come forward.” Called Edric, silencing his followers with the command. Catheryne nodded slowly in acknowledgement of Edric's words, contemplating the news. Dickon Tarly was her uncle after all, and bloodline still had some impact on loyalties it seemed. No doubt he had plans of his own to be made her regent, though that was par for the course it seemed. Even the Faith acknowledged her as the true ruler of Highgarden, though Catheryne had her reservations about the new leadership of the Faith. "The Faith acknowledges my birthright and my uncle is willing to compromise, that is indeed good news. Horras and Hobber will have to be dealt with though, and I doubt they'll leave Highgarden willingly. Unfortunate, I wish my cousins would see the folly of their actions and return my home to me."She kept her gaze cool, but she felt a glimmer of hope sprouting. She had felt desperate when the world fell apart after her father died. Perhaps the gods had been hearing her plight after all? "I will do what I can to convince my uncle to support my cause, and I do wish to see my mother again. Would it be possible to arrange a meeting with them both?"
The knight from Blackcrown strode forth. Though not as tall as the black-haired Baratheon bastard, he was not a small man himself. A clasp secured his travelling cloak, the bull's skull of House Bulwer adorning it. He made a slight bow, a courtesy from a knight to the lord of the castle. He spoke with a lighter voice than one would expect from such an imposing man. "Ser Storm. I represent Lady Rhonda Hightower, bringing a proposal concerning Oldtown and Brightwater Keep. These past years have been ruled by chaos and anarchy, and while the summit of Oldtown sadly failed to produce an end to the conflict concerning Highgarden, her ladyship is pleased that the legitimacy of her kin, the Lady Tyrell, has been upheld. As you, Ser Storm, is currently the... guardian of Lady Tyrell, Lady Hightower is interested in forging an alliance."
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jul 3, 2021 9:01:13 GMT -5
”Already arranged. They will come here. Oldtown was offered, but I would sooner trust a Dornishman than the Faith or the Hightowers.” Storm dried himself, setting the cloth down. The girl seemed oddly calm, given the circumstances. It was unsettling, or at least the hairs tingling at the back of his neck thought so. A sense that had saved him from danger more than once. It was his great fear that he was treading a path already traced, one that led only to his dishonour and disgrace. Death he did not fear, but ignominy was worse than all the Seven Hells.
”Was there anything else, my lady?”
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jul 3, 2021 12:47:56 GMT -5
”Already arranged. They will come here. Oldtown was offered, but I would sooner trust a Dornishman than the Faith or the Hightowers.” Storm dried himself, setting the cloth down. The girl seemed oddly calm, given the circumstances. It was unsettling, or at least the hairs tingling at the back of his neck thought so. A sense that had saved him from danger more than once. It was his great fear that he was treading a path already traced, one that led only to his dishonour and disgrace. Death he did not fear, but ignominy was worse than all the Seven Hells. ”Was there anything else, my lady?” She nodded and made her way to leave the room. It was hard to contain her happiness in this moment, that glimmer of hope ballooning in her chest. She could barely remember her Uncle Dickon, and for a time she had been furious when he had laid claim to Highgarden. However, it would seem that the tides were turning in her favors, if only by a hair. She was still but a girl to be bought and sold at the market for the lords of the realm, with no real power to her name. No doubt she would still be treated as a pawn and married off to some old vassal while her kin held the real power. Yet it was a step up nonetheless. Cath tried to keep as neutral a face as possible while leaving, her clasped hands sweaty from the effort.
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jul 4, 2021 7:11:48 GMT -5
Edric closed the distance between them before she left. ”With good fortune, Tarly might help me retake your home. Tell him that our betrothal is legitimate, and we will have brought nearly ten thousand men to your banners. Highgarden will be as good as taken.”
Whether their alliance of political convenience would last beyond that remained to be seen. It was important to control the tide, not be caught up away in it. He watched her take her leave, the door to his chambers shutting behind her. A hunt would be a fine idea, a chance to charm the huntsman away from the political machinations of Oldtown.
|
|
