|
|
Post by Magnate Lucius on May 29, 2020 14:18:52 GMT -5
The Small Council The small council is a small group of advisers which advises the king of the Seven Kingdoms on matters of policy and their areas of expertise. Aegon I Targaryen relied on councillors after being crowned, but it was not until the reign of King Jaehaerys I Targaryen that the small council was formalized. The council is headed by the king, the only one who can make the council's decisions into law. In his absence the role falls to the Hand of the King or the regent if the king is too young. Some council members are called "lords" even if not members of nobility. They are appointed and dismissed by the king as he wills once he reaches the age of majority. The council may be divided by faction, however, such as the three-three tie between Lannister and Tyrell representatives during the reign of King Tommen I Baratheon, or by region, such as the "Dorne's seat"—once filled by Oberyn Martell—to which Doran Martell appoints Nymeria Sand, who will break the Lannister-Tyrell tie. Traditionally the council consists of seven permanent members, after the Andal traditions and the Faith of the Seven, with reserved positions for: - The Reigning Ruler: Stannis Baratheon - The Lord/Lady Regent: Vacant - The Hand of the King: Lord Davos Seaworth - The Grand Maester: Vacant - The Master of Coin: Ser Lucion Lannister - The Master of Laws: Lord Edmure Tully - The Master of Ships: Asha Greyjoy - The Master of Whisperers: Lady Melisandre - The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard: Ser Richard Horpe - The Lord Commander of the Goldcloaks: Ser Justin Massey Advisors of the Small Council: Lord Harrold Arryn, and Lord Lester Morrigen However, these positions are not limited to the seven permanent members. Advisors and new positions may be made if necessary.
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 3, 2020 16:20:32 GMT -5
The Queen Regent calls a meeting of the Small Council.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jun 3, 2020 17:48:54 GMT -5
Lord Mace Tyrell entered the small council chambers with an indignant expression, the golden chain of hands around his neck jingling as he moved. He stared at Queen Cersei, looking for any sign that she was carrying a weapon. He made a move towards the seat of the Hand.
"Your Grace, I must protest that this highly irregular conduct, even for a respected member of court as the Queen Mother herself. For a non-council member to call a session of the small council is... well... proper etiquette should be followed!"
As he huffed and puffed, Mace's cheeks turned slightly redder. Despite his normal jovial nature his interactions with Cersei Lannister only seemed to sour his mood these days. He sat down as a servant brought some wine for him to calm his nerves.
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 3, 2020 19:11:13 GMT -5
Cersei closed her eyes and gripped the arms of her chair. Her knuckles turned white. She wore an ornate red dress with golden lace on the fringes. Two crouching Lionesses adorned her breasts, peering left or right respectively. Between them, antler of the Stag seemed to point to either end, sewn in cloth of gold. She wore a necklace of red rubies about her neck fastened in gold and her ears were likewise studded with rubies. He golden hair, now beginning to grow once more, framed her face amidst her golden crown. Her eyes opened in a venomous emerald glare. "My Lord Hand." she began "How good of you to come."
As if appearing suddenly from the unmoving, dimly lit background the figure of Ser Gregor Clegane rumbled into view. He took two large steps into the light and laid his hand upon his greatsword. He stood silent as the grave. A pale light seemed to flicker from beneath his helm.
"I would have followed...proper...protocol, if not for the emergency that faces us. I thought that rightly, your lordship would be otherwise occupied during these times." She put on her best diplomatic tone, but hoped Gregor would drive the message. "I come with tidings from the King himself, who is very distraught about the fate of his betrothed. My Lord Tyrell, our interests are intertwined, and I am counting on your cooperation." She was pleased the council chamber was currently empty, such concessions might not do in front of some others. She had a good idea about who she could trust.
She rose and walked to his seat across the table from her own. She placed her hand atop his. "My Lord Mace, you will be the grand sire to Kings, as my father was, so long as we do not stumble now." Her eyes narrowed as she sized him up.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jun 4, 2020 1:27:25 GMT -5
Mace's face was drained of all color at the sight of the silent giant. The new kingsguard had always made the hairs on his back rise, but he knew not why. Yet his presence was all it took to shut him up. Mace followed the Queen as she walked towards him, feeling a sense of dread. A jolt went through him as she put her hand on his, and he began to sweat. He reached for a handkerchief to dab his face.
"That is... I... very... very well, your Grace. W-we are certainly in a time of c-crisis. Please excuse m-my rude behavior."
He nodded slightly toward the Queen.
"So... what news from his Grace, my fair good son? We are all... distraught, by the cruel treatment of my dear, dear daughter at the hand of these rabble-rousers."
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 4, 2020 10:09:13 GMT -5
Word comes from those houses in the Reach loyal to Tyrell. Aegon VI has openly declared himself in Storm's End, with some reporting a message delivered by raven attempting to muster the province to his side.
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 4, 2020 15:47:56 GMT -5
She filled a crystal wine glass with a fine Dornish red and passed the glass to Mace. By then Qyburn had also joined them along with Harys Swyft. She filled her own glass and took her seat. "My lords we are gathered to discuss the problems of the Realm. My son is still too young to wed, but that has not cast into doubt for one second the strength of this alliance. The realm will grow strong." She added the emphasis to butter up the plump oaf of a Tyrell that sat before her. He might be next to useless but with his leave she would have an additional 40,000 swords to her strength. "And we will pay back our debts both in gold and blood to those who have either aided or opposed us. My brother reports that the Riverlands are subdued." Thinking about Jaime hurt, even still, but perhaps they could reconcile, if he saw that she had been right about things all along. He also may not be completely useless either, in spite of losing his hand. "Before we can discuss the safety of the Realm at large, we must first consider the safety of the city. Qyburn, your report."
Qyburn, in black robes, stood. "The high sparrow and his men control large sections of the city, and the situation is most...erm....volatile. We may have the strength to crush them at a whim but I poffer to my Lady and my Lords that this might not be wise, for obvious reasons. Our gallant Ser Loras is recovering from his wounds, and I am tending to him myself. He is young and healthy, though his wounds are grevious. I cannot promise his recovery will be swift or full, if he recovers at all. The Stranger sits at the foot of his bed, I am sad to report." With that Qyburn sat.
Cersei once again addressed the council. "The fanatics will be dealt with, Lord Tyrell, of that I can assure you. Do not forget, they intend to put me through the same trial as your daughter for these trumped up crimes. Yet I have some good tidings on that regard, a plan of sorts." She drank deeply of her wine. "The faith must hold sacred the custom of trial by combat. As Queen it is my prerogative to dispose of the Kingsguard as my champions. Margaery will one day marry my son, Tommen, and rule alongside him. She will be the mother of my grandchildren and Queen in her own right. I will not begrudge her the use of any champion she might select from among the Kingsguard. As for myself, I intend to name Ser Gregor Clegane as my champion. He has taken a holy vow of silence, which I believe some of th efaithful may find moving. What they will find even more moving is when he eviscerates whatever puffed up holy knight they appoint to fight opposite him." She drained the rest of her cup and poured another. "Once our names have been cleared, we will work to further undermine and discredit this trumped up high sparrow." She waited to see what Tyrell's reactions would be to that.
|
|
|
|
Post by Royal Joker on Jun 4, 2020 16:29:54 GMT -5
Mace puffed himself up and relaxed more and more as Queen Cersei talked. It was good to be the Hand of the King, and despite his suspicions she seemed to trust him. No accusations against him for the murder of her uncle Kevan, which was assuring. Perhaps she saw that such a thing was unthinkable? He hoped so at least as he sipped some wine. Dornish vipers in all their dishonor, but they knew how to make wine.
"Ah, if I may interject, your Grace... my beloved daughter does of course appreciate your offer, but from what Lord Tarly has told me...
He gestured toward the Mater of Laws.
"She intends to be trialed by the faith, with the High Septon himself preceding over the trial. A foolish thing to try to work with such a madman, but she is headstrong my daughter. However, I do look forward to the trial by combat, and to see the good ser triumph in your name, your Grace. After that, we will do our best to bring sanity back to King Tommen's capital."
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 4, 2020 17:06:51 GMT -5
Perhaps Maergery wouldn't be such a nuisance after all, once she was disgraced Cersei could set her aside at will, but not before the Tyrells had been used up. "Very well, Lord Tyrell. She will be in my prayers." A smile passed her face that was not all reassuring. Soon a host of her own would be in the Capital. "Now, I've heard reports of a strange nature from the Stormlands, it would seem mercenaries are washing up on our shores. What is all this, has Stannis sent for reinforcements? Are these remnants from Dragonstone?"
|
|
|
|
Post by AxBrew Sunster on Jun 4, 2020 20:06:48 GMT -5
Sharp, heavy footfalls marked the arrival of the recently appointed Master of Laws to the hastily called council. Randyll Tarly moved as he did all things, with military precision. Though he walked through the halls of the Red Keep, he was dressed as if he might be leading the Reach's vanguard at any moment. He moved as if the coat of oiled mail her wore over his boiled leather jerkin was not there, and the massive length of Heartsbane was slung across his back. He offered a straight-backed bow first to the queen regent and then to the Lord Hand, each one carefully measured to the same depth. Neither one would receive any more respect from him.
"Queen Mother, Lord Hand." He marked each bow with the appropriate address. "To what do we owe this rather hastily assembled meeting?"
His tone remained formal and respectful, but a slight twitch of the warrior's face reveals an underlying emotion. Irritation, perhaps, at the lack of procedure or for what he assumed would be a waste of time.
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 5, 2020 16:27:15 GMT -5
"Lord Tarly, how appropriate that we now turn to you for your opinion. You are the Master of Laws, and it appears a Pretender to the crown claiming to be Rhaegar's son has displaced Stannis at Storm's End. This is a castle I would sooner have in the Crown's possession. What are your thoughts?" Cersei seemed genuinely interested. Other than her own brother, who had wandered off, he was the closest thing to a formidable field commander they had. He would have his uses, if he could be persuaded to remain loyal.
|
|
|
|
Post by AxBrew Sunster on Jun 6, 2020 6:52:01 GMT -5
"Ah, I see I do not bring any fresh or surprising news then." He said, tossing a half-rolled parchment on the table they gathered around. "I was fearful that we might have gathered for some fool reason, but at the very least this is a worthwhile cause. I am glad." His face disagreed. The hard line of his mouth, and the stern eyes that glinted above, were far from suggesting anything approaching elation. He crossed the room to pull a map from the wall, spreading it before them. His title may have been Master of Laws, but it was in these times that he showed where his truest skills lay.
"We find ourselves in a rather precarious position, my lady." When he spoke again, it was in the sharp tones of command. "Storm's End should not have fallen so quickly to the pretender, and yet his communication claims that he sits within even now. That means one of two things: either whoever was left to hold the keep has shifted their loyalties to this would-be Targaryen, or their forces are greater than should be possible. Whatever the case, this means that the unpleasant task of retaking it will fall to us." One finger had fallen upon Durran's Point, where the mighty fortress of Storm's End rested. "This could probably be accomplished if we still had our full strength. The Reach's armies were still strong until recently. But Ser Garlan has taken half of our strength West and South to try and drive the Florents from Brightwater keep, and if Lord Waters is to be believed, the assault on Dragonstone cost another thousand loyal men, and now he lays gravely wounded within those halls." His gaze turned to his liege lord. "Not that I wish to speak ill of either of your sons, or dredge up any fears you may have about young Loras' life, my Lord Hand, it is simply what I must consider"
As he spoke his fingers had moved, one into the heartland of the Reach, and the other just above King's Landing. Now they moved together again, the second taking a circuitous route, until they met at the Arbor. "And now the Redwyne fleet and Lord Garlan move together to address the Ironborn, leaving us with little more than a quarter of the strength we could have boasted once." He seemed now to be talking more to himself than anyone, though he addressed the room. "I don't know what forces they might have mustered for this attack, but I have to imagine that our best option will be to coax them to battle in the open field." He half-raised a hand, forestalling anticipated criticism, "I understand that this means allowing the upstarts to reach closer to Reach lands, or the Crownlands," he glanced at Lord Mace, and then to the Queen Regent in order. "But there are still enough brave Reach and Westerlander knights among our forces that a firm charge ought to shatter any resistance in the right terrain. If we pursue them into those mountains, the only strength we have becomes a weakness, and they can pick those knights apart at their leisure, before they leave us to face the sea spray and storms for months outside that keep."
He stepped back and looked at the gathered company for a moment, before adding a rather belated"If it please you, Queen Regent, My Lord Hand."
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 7, 2020 10:45:14 GMT -5
The Queen considered Tarly's assessment, and found it astute. She did not think it wise to wait on the Targaryen upstart to make the first move, or indeed to secure additional forces from the Stormlands. Her emerald gaze fell upon Lord Randyll. "My Lord, fresh forces will soon arrive from the West. We will combine them with a portion of the forces left to us in the Capital. I am told Lord Brax will lead a host of 12,000 from Casterly Rock. A further 5,000 will be mustered from the lands surrounding the Capital." And I fear....that will exhaust our strength... "But they must be preserved as much as possible. We must strike a definitive blow against the Pretender to our south, extinguish him quickly. We must learn the true nature of his claim and the identities of his supporters. Any who defect will be granted royal pardons, provided they prove useful. Lord Tarly, I give you the joint command of this force."
|
|
|
|
Post by Gandalf on Jun 7, 2020 16:03:50 GMT -5
Nymeria finally entered the Small Council chambers, taking her seat as Dorne's representative. Oberyn's daughter slouched in her chair like an oversized cat, lazily inspecting her fingernails as the dour Lord Tarly went over his stratagems. She stifled a yawn, stretching her long legs under the council table.
"It is curious that my long dead cousin miraculously reappears when the Iron Throne is weakened, no? This is a silver haired Lyseni pillow boy , Your Grace, and the true foe hides behind this false dragon."
Nymeria glanced at the Queen, then Mace Tyrell,and smiled ever so slightly.
|
|
|
|
Post by pontifex on Jun 7, 2020 16:46:29 GMT -5
"I do not care if he is some Lyseni pirate whelp, he shall not sit the Iron Throne and those who support him will be destroyed, root and stem!" The Queen Mother rose in he wrath. "I will not suffer these upstarts to vex my son any longer than they must. My son Tommen is the rightful King!" She had seemed to lose her calm at this meeting. "Lord Tarly, accompany me to my chambers!" She ordered. Ser Boros and Ser Strong stepped forward. (continue in Maegor's Holdfast)
The Council meeting was clearly at an end.
|
|
