Siege of the Red Keep

As the Tyrells lay siege to Red Keep the High Septon sends out the Poor Fellows to keep the peace in the city, he did not believe the Tyrells would butcher the people, not after all the effort they put into buying their loyalty.. but, he would not risk their safety. The streets came to be patrolled by groups of Poor Fellows, in rough spun wool, blood red stars upon their breasts. Patrolling with simple weapons they sought to discourage chaos, murder, and rape among the smallfolk, and most importantly stop Tyrell troops from taking advantage of the populace.

Lord Tarly had sent a raven back home confirming that his son and Dickon's young lady wife had made it safely and were in good health, and inquiring after their journey. Then he set out for the Great Sept of Baelor alongside ten of his closest household men. Upon cresting Visenya's Hill, he found the massive structure buzzing with activity, and elected not to enter, as it seemed the High Sparrow was taking petitioners or some such thing, as a line of the city's common folk seemed to be pressing toward the door. The Tarly contingent turned away from the main doors and walked into the gardens where Randyll knelt among the flowers. He was not an exceptionally religious man, and he did not come often to pray. Even know, it was his own counsel he sought more than any of the Seven. He had become tired of being yanked about like a pawn for two fools. Mace pulled him by his oath like a knight leads a horse - first in defense of the Targaryens, then bending the knee to Robert, only to crown Renly in rebellion again, and finally in service to the Lannisters of the Crownlands. No matter what side they stood on, the Lord of Highgarden would send his bannerman out at the head of the vanguard and then claim any victory for himself and House Tyrell.

And then there was Cersei. It was a long time since Randyll had stood in the presence of anyone who was so comfortable manipulating people to their face as the Queen Mother seemed to be. She was not wrong about Mace Tyrell, and she had not been wrong about his own resentment towards his liege lord, but he disliked being played for a puppet. He was of House Tarly, and for a warrior of House Tarly, Oaths were more than simple words. The dilemma was unusual for a man known for his decisiveness, both on the field of battle and in his conversation. He was not half as dedicated to honor as Eddard Stark had been, but he still found himself learning a lesson that the former Hand of the King had learned the hard way - the capital was no place for straightforward men. He had watched Mace Tyrell forsake oath after oath, and from their conversation, Cersei put no stock in promises or oaths either. So, as he knelt in a garden outside the Great Sept of Balor, Randyll Tarly had to ask himself which oath he held most important. He knew that he already had the answer.

Even as he rose, he heard sounds of shouting and commotion. Making his way back around towards the gates of the Sept, he found himself looking into the Hall of lamps, where the High Sparrow stood, barely distinguishable from the men he spoke to, men wearing the roughspun robes of the Poor Fellows. When the Poor Fellows darted away, presumably to follow whatever orders had been given, Lord Tarly approached. "Pardon, Your Eminence," he said, "I suppose you might know the reason for this commotion?"

Lord Tarly's face tightens, his mouth forming an even harsher line that usual, as his eyes flash with anger. "What foolishness is this? Was all of the scheming not enough for the bitch?" he snaps, anger blazing forward for a moment before following it up with a glance towards the High Septon and continuing in a more mellow tone, "I apologize for the outburst your holiness. It simply seems a mistake to be rowing among those that are meant to hold this city in the face of pirates on the coast and a dragon in the south." He pauses for a moment, then considers who he is talking to, "And a needless threat to the common folk of this city who only seek to live their lives."

He waited for a few more minutes as the Warrior's Sons gathered and then spoke again, "It would probably be good for me to speak with Lord Tyrell, since he is the more available of the two commanders at this moment. Would you and your entourage care to accompany us at this meeting?"

Lord Tarly joins the High Septon as he arrives at the command center of the besiegers to speak with the Lord of Highgarden.

The former commander of the Goldcloaks, now demoted to mere captain, a man of rather duvious reputation -and known to be a darling of the court, brother to ser Osmund of the Kingsguard-, Ser Osfryd Kettleback, arrives to the siege lines with a batallion of men. He arrives wearing the gold cloak of his station and a plain suit of plate and mail, an open bascinet over the head. He requests to see Lord Tyrell or whosoever is in charge of leading the siege to the castle.

"What will you give me if I bring you that daughter of yours"

Said the commander.

"I've fucked Cersei, guess that'll make her trust me"

He placed both hands on the sword's hilt.

"I guess having her back would have a handsome reward, wouldn't it? Either that or I can try stabbing the golden bitch to death"

"Because, what would be the point, then?"

He said. Stating the obvious.

"I'd rather stay farting at the barracks waiting this to be over. If I screw you over this, Lord Tyrell, what do I stand to gain?"

He smiles, cruelly.

"I'd just be inside with the Queen waiting for your thousands of men to slaughter me with a pig, which isn't my priorities, your Lordship"