A mystified look crossed across Tristan's face, hurriedly dispelled.

"Erryk? Good gods man, I had no idea you'd still be here. It seems the more things change, the more they stay the same!"

He looked the merchant up and down, noting the well made, but reserved cut of his clothing, the sparse and understated ornamentation. "You seem to have landed on your feet after these twelve years, and I admit it's good to see another familiar face."

"As for the tales, well, if the tales I heard across the sea were true, there'd be nothing left of Westeros South of King's Landing but ash and bones: that's how they're speaking of the Dornish War, and yet now there's to be a wedding between Targaryen and Martell! I'm sure any tales of my own exploits are similarly overblown."

Tristan sighed, feeling the weight of a long road travelled settling on him like a leaden weight. "I know there's much and more to be getting on with, but I could use either a drink or a good stretch of sleep, and I'm not sure which I'd prefer until I get one of them."
This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Tue 02 Dec 2014.

"Its decided, a snifter of brandy lends itself well to a deep sleep to follow", He said giving the younger man a heavy clap on the back and led him towards the Eryyk's study, "Your uncle did honest by me and I have made sure to do honest by him... and I'll admit the comforts are rather nice."

The man gave a small smirk as he thought about the war and how best to describe it, "It was hardly a war. The fighting was quick and the sandmen armies were smashed in typical Targaryen fashion, but the people squirmed like eels in the hand when they tried to rule them afterwards. In the end they squirmed enough to make a mess of the whole attempt."

In reply to Loranth Fell (msg # 22):

Encouraged by Loranth's words, but a little intimidated by the sudden interjections of weighty matters around them, Acired had felt a little tongue-tied before giving a response.  Once a moment of pause allowed her the chance to address the Lord again, she piped up.

"Thank you My Lord.  I would very much like to try out what you suggested, though I know very little about being a Lady In Waiting, or the Dornish customs.  It does sound very novel and new, and I am excited at the possibilities!  Thank you again!"

She then paused and added questioningly.

"My Lord, the servants have been gossiping... is it also true that there are plans for a Sept to be constructed and added to the castle?  With an actual Septa from outside ministering to the ladies here?"

Loranth smiles. Gossip travels fast he had only told that to Vanna and a few trusted retainers. "Yes, it is going to happen. If, Timberwood is going to ever be the House it should be. All its members need to learn the ways that are common to all Westeros. Besides, it would be nice to have the Seven occasionally pulling for House Fell."

Tristan nodded at Eryyk's words, and let himself be casually directed toward what must be Eryyk's study.

"Ah, that makes sense of the proposed wedding then. Normally with tensions so high, a wedding would do as much to foster future war as cement immediate peace. With the Dornish attitude to succession though, it's as much the Martell's marrying into the Targaryen's as vice-versa," he responded, referring to the Dornish tradition regarding female inheritance.

He found a chair in Eryyk's study, and relaxed into it. "So tell me my firend, how do things stand for our house? Loranth has much on his plate and more to deal with now, matters of family and leadership, but you always had an eye for detail. What's your take on our part in forthcoming events?"

Eryyk began to pour two glasses of local brandy, palmed one off and took a seat for himself. He swirled the glass a moment as he thought on the situation before answering, "Our role in this wedding is nil. We are nowhere near important enough to make the eye of the King unless we make ourselves stand out. If we want to turn this to our advantage the goal is not to exalt ourselves, but to make ourselves instrumental in exalting the Baratheons. As for Loranth he is... untested. He has a head for the day to day operations but he has not needed to deal with a critical situation."

In reply to Loranth Fell (msg # 27):

Mulling that over, the young ward then seemed thouthgful before chirping up with another question.

"I'd like to accompany you as you see to the arrangements today, My Lord?  I don't think I have any more scheduled studies, and I feel as if I could learn a great deal watching you tend to Lord's business, especially in preparing for King's Landing!"

He shrugged, swirling the brandy in its glass and staring into it pensively. It was a finer vintage than the swill he was used to on the campaign trail. It was strangely sweet too, and trimmed with an oaky finish. A local vintage perhaps? He hoped to test the waters with Eryyk first, finding him oddly easy to talk to. To say these words to Loranth seemed ill-advised until he’d had the opportunity to test steadier, more experienced, waters, and Eryyk seemed wise to the ways of the house, and loyal to its interests.

"Indeed, the wedding itself is a royal affair, far beyond us in its scope, but around such momentous events are smaller, though still significant, opportunities. With so much of the nobility in or around King’s Landing at the same time, many new alliances will be formed. It seems logical for an appropriate betrothal to be made for either Lachlan or Loranth. For myself, I have the opportunity to make a public appearance in the ranks of my peers for the first time, and with the Seven’s Blessing, achieve some mark or renown on the tourney field."

He turned from the broad concerns of the house, to those weighing on his own heart.

"I will be honest with you Eryyk, though it will sound like the ill-conceived bravado of youth, I have no desire to wed any day soon, and I will be of little enough use to our House in its pursuit of trade advantage. But such a momentous alliance between houses of Targaryen and Martell provides every sort of opportunity for those of more humble origin. Understand me clearly: I want nothing but to establish, secure and promote the success of House Fell, and I intend to be a watchful protector while Loranth establishes himself more securely. Beyond that, however, I wonder if I cannot be of more use that sheltering within Timberwood and riding on Loranth’s coat-tails."

Tristan leaned forward in his chair, unable to completely hide the eagerness he felt for the matters he discussed.

"The realm is in flux, with ranks great and small more accessible than they have ever been, and it is not in my nature to timidly wait for my assigned portion. Not all great opportunities rely on high-birth, and not all rely on careful financial management, or marriage alliance. Indeed, some of the greatest honours one such as myself might wish to attain would require me to forswear the opportunities afforded me by blood, such as that of marriage, lands, and children."

He looked back down at his drink, musing at its flavour, and sure that Eryyk would take the meaning of the words he daren't quite speak aloud, lest they seem too ambitious by half.

Eryyk smiled at the apprehension of the young man as he listened intently. He almost had to wonder if he sold his noble airs too well. He had gone from a gutter to a castle. Now a man starting from a castle was eying a rise from a foreign campaign to the Red Keep, a concept that hardly seemed a stretch to his eyes. So cutting to the heart of the matter he offered with a small smile the casual observation, "You would look good in white."

He took the smallest sip of brandy and let the liquid sit on his tongue while he waited on a reaction...

"Acired, I can not see it being that interesting, but if you wish you may come. Could you do me a favor, and find Master Erryk. Ask him to come at his earliest convenience."  Went to his desk and started to shuffle through his papers. His smile seemed to fade as he pulled out the ledger, and started to work the numbers.

"Yes, My Lord"

Acired started to give a small bow, then remembered her lessons and instead picked up the hem of her skirts and curtsied as the Lady Adria had spent hours teaching her to do.  She was still growing accustomed to the habits and traditions of these lands away from her small island, despite how impractical she thought them.  Her father had sternly impressed upon her that she was to obey the Lord and Lady of Timberwood as if they were her own parents.  She was trying.

Withdrawing from the room, she peered within and without the other archways and doorways of the castle corridor, finally spying the Maester speaking with the Lord's cousin.  Waiting for a pause, she then entered and curtsied before interjecting.

"Maester Tyrol?  His Lordship wishes to speak with you and has sent me to bring you to his chambers at your soonest convenience."

She dipped her head at the Maester and then gave a pleasant smile of admiration towards the martial-looking Tristan.

Tristan's eyebrows rose at the sudden appearance of the young Lady. How long had she been there? Her face was unfamiliar, and he couldn't remember it from those early childhood years before he departed. A ward, perhaps? Her coloration was certainly fairer than the Fell bloodline, and the budding of a genuine beauty, near flower, though with a hint of steel or sinew beneath the surface. This one could be trouble, he thought, distractedly. He chose his words to Erryk carefully, not wanting to reveal their shared conversation to an unknown party. He smiled, his face lit with a genuine warmth.

"Thank you for you time Eryyk, you've much and more to be getting on with in helping Loranth prepare. It means a great deal that you took time out to speak with me and welcome me back. Rest assured...rest assured that I do not take the matters we discussed lightly, and that I know the destination to be a distant, quite unlikely, thing, with important and varied hurdles to be surmounted on the way. It is good to know that I have a confidante in you."

He stood, and a wave of fatigue rolled over him, he extended his hand toward the chair arm to steady himself, but found he didn't quite need to, so he folded his extended fingers into a fist and raised it to his mouth to stifle a yawn.

"I'll leave you to make your way back to Lord Fell, Maester Tyrol", he said, perhaps a little too formally, "and perhaps this young lady can direct me to appropriate sleeping quarters. If you'll forgive me lady, I fear we've not been formally introduced. I am Tristan, second-cousin to my Lord Loranth, recently returned from across the narrow sea." He stifled another yawn, "quite recently in fact." In the back of his mind he realised that asking directions would be something of a feaux pas if the lady were particularly high born or a guest like the ones House Fell were to escort. The fatigue and disorientation of the weeks at sea were still weighing on him, and he wished he could call the words back.

There was a combination of mixed envy, admiration, and approval on the face of the girl as she listened to Tristan speak.  She nodded as he spoke of coming across the Narrow Sea, and her eyes sparkled with interest.

"A sea voyage?  Where did you sail from, if I may ask?  I grew up in the Gullet, not far from Dragonstone.  I love the sea, and I miss the sea air greatly.  Not that Timberwood lacks its charms, but the castle is so much farther from the sea than i am used to.  Oh!  But where are my manners?!  I am Acired, Acired Velaryon.  I was sent here to be fostered under the care of the Late Lord Fell and Lady Adria."

She offered her arm to Tristan, a gesture of both courtly manners for him to show chivalry and also to lend the excuse so that he might lean a bit and ease his fatigue.

"Now that you two have your introductions. I'll see to the business with the Lord", he said as he stood and knocked back the remainder of his brandy. He straightened his clothes and started to leave and at the door he stopped held it open and mentioned offhandedly, "I really must lock up. I keep most of the houses financial ledgers in here. I am a merchant after all... no chain on this neck."

Tristan's eyebrows rose in mild shock. The Velaryon's were an old house indeed, with the blood of Old Valyria in their veins, a fact which seemed obvious enough given Acired's fair appearance. He was no student of history, but like every young squire, he had been raised on stories of military heroics, and knew that the first ever Lord Commander of the Kingsguard had been Ser Corlys Velaryon.

He bade farewell to Eryyk and took Acired's arm, as propriety dictated, though pride forbade him from leaning against her as though he was the doddering old man that exhaustion made him feel like.

"My ship sailed from Pentos, my Lady Acired. It is the superior port if one wishes to make the journey, as the good relationship between the Iron Throne and that free city means the tariffs are low, and ships make the journey all year-round."

"I'll admit, I have learned no great fondness for the sea, though that might be a matter of circumstance. Nine times in ten that I've smelt the sea air, I've been soon-after packed into a troop transport galley, often too small by half. My company, the Golden Manticores, spent far more time in the field, fighting for one magister or another in The Flatlands, or defending them from a roving Khalasar if the merchants were too foolish or stiff-necked to pay tribute. "

He shook his head in consternation. How many good, Seven-serving Westerosi men died in those battles, because the merchants were too greedy to pay off the barbarians, and yet too cowardly to fight their own battles? He tore his mind away from such brooding thoughts.

"We did not often linger in the Free Cities themselves, as the foreigners did not trust so many foreign swords in their streets. I grew to love the hills instead, and the tall grasses that grew all the way up a courser's flank in their short summers. The Flatlands are the breadbowl of the region, and most of the nearby cities are fed by it. I doubt I met more than a score of truly decent folk in all my time across the Narrow Sea, and fully half of them worked those fields for little more than a pittance."

He was aware the remark might seem rustic, if not bizarre, to one of his own class, and so he redirected it.

"Suffice to say, I am glad to return home, where the lands are ruled by Godly men of conscience, like our good King Baelor, who is well loved by the smallfolk."

They had turned a corner, toward what seemed the guest wing of Timberwood's long halls. He found it almost funny that this outsider, from the family of a crown vassal, could navigate his family's halls with greater familiarity that he. He was cautious of droning on, and so turned the focus back to the young lady, "Dragonstone is often spoken of like something out of fable, and I once heard a septon describe the Velaryon's seat in Driftmark as "The New Valyria". I can well imagine that the sea air might smell sweeter there than in Pentos. Would you tell me more of it, and of how you found your way to being fostered in our more rustic halls?"
This message was last edited by the player at 13:41, Tue 16 Dec 2014.

Holding onto Tristan's arm as if she had just gotten a prize for good behavior, Acired beamed and walked him along through the castle corridor.

"Pentos?!  That sounds quite wonderful.  It must have been such a sight, to see so many people of different lands, so many beasts of different hue, to hear the tongues of many men and smell the spices and trade goods as they are unloaded upon the docks...  I rarely left my father's island, it's just a large rock really, with only a watchtower to guard against the Ironborn and pirates, not even a proper keep.  But I did love to sail, I had a little coracle I would take out everyday.  And I learned to handle larger vessels from my father, for when he needed someone to help him prepare for a campaign."

When he spoke of campaigning, she glanced at him admiringly, yet with a sincere look of appreciation for his somber words.

"You've seen combat then...  That look in your eyes, I've seen it in the faces of mariners and fighting men of our isles as well.  You've seen the light of life ebb from the gazes of the men you've faced, as well as the ones you fought alongside. ...It changes you, does it not?"

She paused and then added.  "I've seen it too... when I've tended the dying after raids on our folk.  I was even caught up in the midst of a battle once.  It was madness.   You must be very brave to have kept your sense of self afterwards."

When Tristan asked about her home she turned pink in embarrassment and looked down at her shoes.

"I've never actually been to Driftmark.  Or to Dragonstone for that matter.  Father made occasional trips, but it was not my place to accompany him.  Our home is just a small island, it doesn't even have a proper name on any maps.  But the populace call it after the tower's first commander, they named it the Islet of Sudal.  We have fisherfolk, goatherds, and the open sea, and not much else.  On the rocky shores there are clams, mussels, and oysters to gather ...sometimes with pearls.  But mostly there's just boats and nets full of fish, salt water everywhere, and constant winds laced with the smell of seaweed.  There's precious little wood, no trees really... not like here."

Looking wistfully into empty air while reminiscing, the young girl gave a slight smile.

"As for how I came here, my father is ...was, a Knight Captain of the Gullet Watchtowers.  He oversaw stores and taxes, laid supplies, kept ships trim, and took a modest stipend from his duties.  But last season he was gravely wounded in battle against the Ironmen.  He survived but later took ill, and can no longer walk or fight.  A knight that cannot fight is of little use to great lords.  Income from the islet is modest and he could not properly take care of me.  But he was boon companions with the late Lord in their youth, and sent me here to be fostered.  I arrived shortly after the late Lord's passing.  Hereafter I have been sequestered with the Lady Adria, and keeping out of harms way, for the most part..."

Eryyk hustled across the castle grounds to meet his Lord after locking his study behind him and the pair of young nobles. It seemed like life in a castle was just such an experience, study to study, office to office.

He knocked lightly at the door before pushing open the door and inquiring, "I was told you wished to speak to me?"

"Yes come in." Loranth walks to his cabinet pulled out a decanter and two glasses. "Why don't you pour both of us a glass. I wanted to talk to you about the vision I have for this trip. We have been afforded an opportunity that I would like to try to exploit. Fellwood is viewed as a backward domain, so I have requested that a Septa would be dispatched to us. I have promised that we will build a Sept. Our coffers are pushed to the limits, but I believe that if we can arrange an audience with the King that we can enlist his aid and the Kingdom's gold to make it happen."

In reply to Eryyk Tyrol (msg # 40):

“Indeed, skill on the water is a rare enough skill in itself, let alone for the daughter of a noble house. In truth, I can lend my strength when a spar needs bracing, but I’ve never learned the finer arts of sailing in my time aboard Pentosian Galleys. The sailors tended to load us up like cattle and begrudged us the time we spent on deck rather than within the sightless holds.”

As they spoke, Tristan saw the admiration writ clear across her features, and thought he’d best nip in the bud any notion that he was a gallant knight, raised in court finery and etiquette as well as the reality of war.

If I am to speak truthfully, Lady Acired: What small social graces I’ve learned, I possess because I made the point of pursuing them, or because Ser Gregory, for whom I squired, expected the scion of a noble house to learn them. I have spent more time in the field of war than in court, and more time in the company of low-born free-riders than well-born maidens such as you. I feel greater trepidation at the thought of escorting and socialising with the nobility than I did upon the Burning Plains when faced with a Dothraki horde. Simply put, my lady, combat did not change me so much as shape me. It is the life I have led, and the path The Seven have thus far seen fit to lay at my feet.

When Acired revealed herself to be the scion of a cadet branch of her illustrious house, Tristan realised he had mis-stepped by assuming her to be of greater stature, and had embarrassed her. He cursed himself silently at his thoughtlessness, and wondered again whether it was a reflection of the rough edges of his manners, or the tiredness that seemed to be seeping into his very bones.

As she spoke of her Father’s injury and the intervention of the late Lord Fell, Tristan felt his emotions begin to boil.
“If I am not out of turn, my lady, it is a shameful thing that your father was not more properly assisted by his liege or family after taking such a grievous hurt in the service of his duties and House. Even so, my heart is gladdened that my Lord Loranth can now play his part in setting right such a wrong, and see you schooled and fostered in a manner more befitting your bloodline.“

As they walked, he mused, perhaps more talkatively than he would had were he less tired. His guard and reserved composure had been somewhat worn down.

“My own father was a household knight of House Fell, and lacked any lands or great prospects of his own. He rode the lands of Timberwood regularly and with pride, glad to be a strong sword-arm for Lord Loranth’s father and grandmother. He took a barbed arrow for his trouble and died from it, well before my tenth name-day.”

“I remember when Lord Fell executed some prisoners from the same group of bandits that laid him low. Ser Moresey, for whom I’d been squiring for less than a year, bade me watch and reminded me of our Words: ‘We Fell, we raise anew”. Looking back, they are oddly fitting, for the timing of my father’s death paved the way for me joining Ser Moresey in Pentos, to be raised and blooded in foreign wars.”

They had reached the end of the guest wing, and Tristan saw a servant exit the room that had clearly been hurriedly prepared for him while he spoke with Eryyk. The steward is clearly a man who still knows his business, he mused.

He turned back to face Acired, endeavouring to make his point clear before finally succumbing to fatigue.
“I am proud of my father, and seek to emulate him in the love he showed my family and our people, in the way he chose to live, serve, and ultimately leave this world. Your father sounds like a man cut from the same cloth, a father worthy of great admiration, who loves his family andsees duty as its own reward, whatever ill-fortune is dealt him.”

He bade the young Lady farewell. Once the door to the small room was closed, Tristan made his way to the bed. Made of strong local wood, but lacking in any ornamentation, it suited his tastes well. He knelt and laid out his prayers to the Seven, praying first for his cousin, Loranth, but also for a great many others, including friends abroad, and Acired and Eryyk. It seemed an age before he had finished, and when he climbed into bed, he did so gladly, falling asleep immediately.

 Noticing that more family and friends have arrived, Lachland has stayed quiet and out of the way. But the time has come to get them ready to meet and escort these Dorne houses and Reachers to Kings Landing, so if they don’t hurry then they may has issue with the royal court.

 Lachland has been told that his 1st and 2nd cousins are in conference, he knows better to interrupt, but at the same time, … it’s been a long time since the three of them have shared stories and plotted which women are next on their lists. He laughs at himself with these thoughts,... he knocks on the door to the chamber of which Tristan "Skybreaker" and the Lord of Timberwood are having their conversation.

Vanna opens the door. She stares hard at Ser Lachland than allows him to pass into the room.

He walks in scanning the room, he is taking in the environment. He has a lacks personality that gives out a flare of arrogance. "Cousins, so good to see you" he walks over to the table "M'lord, .... " he extends his hand out to grab a goblet with the thought of serving himself a cup of the good stuff "Cousin you have been away for a long time, you look well."
This message had punctuation tweaked by the GM at 06:06, Sat 10 Jan 2015.

"I hope I did not interrupt your conversations, ..... I understand that we are to escort some Dornish lords and ladies to King's Landing." Smiling at his cousins, "News travels quickly; sometimes the men are worse than the kitchen hands."


'I can assist and help get things ready to leave in the morning with your approval?"

Drinking a quick second glass of wine, he chugs it down without tasting it.

"Lachland make it so. Determine which Dorne Princes we are escorting. Also, get with the Maester, and determine which of the Noble Prince has daughters that will be fighting in the tournament.  Vanna, will work with you to provide scouts that know the route." Loranth returns to the ledger he was studying. He was concerned on how he would fulfill the the promise of building a Sept. He rises from it before Lachland leaves. "It is good to have the Knights of Fell home.  We drink and merry in King's Landing."

The house gets ready to travel south to the lands of House Dondarrion, the guardians of the northern pass. It takes a few days to properly repair the men. The road they must take to meet with the Dorne Lords is a different from the road that will take them to King's Landing, .... so Ser Lachland Fell has taken it on himself, the task of getting everything needed for this journey (the men of Fell will not see home for several weeks). After another day of non-stop preparation Lachland announces to Loranth that they will be ready to leave in the morning and it will be 3 days before they reach a hamlet at the end of the pass which is the location they will meet and escort the houses north. This is about a day and a half north from Blackhaven.


The courtyard is streaming with men and they await their Lord as the sun raises and lights up the road.
This message was last edited by the GM at 15:37, Mon 09 Feb 2015.