In the morning of the wedding, the courtyard of Castle Lychester was busy with last minute preparations and guests arriving briefly before the wedding was due to begin.

The first major contingent to arrive had travelled from North of Fairmarket in the wake of Ser Jasper’s party, drawing from Seaguard and the Twins. Riding confidently in a position of leadership, more befitting an heir than his status as second son, the young and fair Edric Mallister was flanked by his mother, the Lady Catryn Mallister, and Uncle, Ser Derrin Erensford. Behind them rode their brother, Ser Bertrand, called “Bellringer” for the many small bells he wore on stylish outfits at court, and during the joust., and beside him, Ser Humphrey Haigh, the landed bannermen of House Frey and tourney knight, and his squire, Forrest Frey. In their train a bevy of lesser knights and squires demonstrated the wealth and power of these more northern houses, though House Frey was still widely considered an upstart house and pretender to the rank of major house, and the allegiance of House Erenford and Haigh a new and untested thing.

Next to arrive were the banners of House Blackwood, though the only member of the house itself was Ser Roland, a lesser cousin and aspiring knight of the lists. Most prominent among their bannermen, Lord Mannfryd rode flanked by his sister, the Lady Selene, and uncle, the dreaded Ser Malus. All were dressed in dark clothes of fine make, and were guarded by a small escort dressed in steel. With them rode Ser Walton Banemark, the golden-haired heir of House Banemark, and his younger brother, the darker haired and more sour looking Horas. Though the Banemarks were sworn directly to the king and not House Blackwood, their presence within the train was significant, as were the glances exchanged between Lady Selene and Ser Walton. In their train rode the noted veteran Ser Beros Wallain, famed for his fiery hair and skill with axe, bow and lance, who rode with Ser Roland and discussed the tourney to come.

Outside of these larger trains, individual knights and travellers made their way to pay respect to the wedding of Ser Adham and Lady Sylvia.

From across the Blue Trident, Ser Ronald Darry, third son to Lord Dantred Darry, who was called “the greater Lord Darry” and “the hammer of the clans” arrived and greeted his uncle, Ser Lyonel, warmly, though he seemed somewhat dismissive of Daveth and Ser Gareth.

Fresh from his victory at the tourney at Pinkmaiden, Ser Robar Ryger rode in in a fine courser of Bracken lines, and was greeted with whispers and consternation, for he was well known for his cruelty with the small folk and maidens of his own lands.

From down the Riverroad, Ser Ramsbold Dun arrived caked in dirt and alert, asking after the party of House Blackfin. Though his sister was numbered among lady Gwendolyn’s handmaiden, his urgency seemed greater than this alone would explain.
This message was last edited by the GM at 09:13, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

Jarrak watched the late arrivals parade in, as he cleaned his armor and polished his weapons.  A craftsman never neglect the tools of their trade, and his craft was war.  As Blackwood and Banemark ride in, his eyes followed them.  None to friendly were they when they lit upon Ser Malus'.  But this was a wedding, and himself a guest, he would not be the one to violate his hosts hospitality.  The "small folk", as they were called, had better manners than to bring trouble upon the kindness of their hosts.  And the Old Gods looked I'll upon the guests who broke those ancient laws.  He had shared salt with the Lord of this castle, and so between them there were laws equally binding.  Ser Robar too caused a dark look to cross his eyes.  Long had been the tales of his cruelty, even among the free companies.  They might take his money, but wasn't a one among them that would spare mercy for that lord on the field.
   He smiled to himself when he saw Horas.  The young heir seemed well.  He was glad of that.  No child should have suffered through such a bloody fight, nor woman either.  Though he'd met a tiny few who were fierce as any man, and skilled in use of steel.  He knew better than to treat them gently, for that was a sure way to end up a cold corpse.
   He did not approach any though.  Their presence was not for him, nor was he there for them.  The Tourney would be an interesting sight, and he doubted not at all that he would get a better judgement of each participants skill.  He did not have a horse to spare, and would not risk Barrel.
This message was last edited by the player at 10:21, Tue 21 Dec 2021.

Watching the late arrivals, Berion's eye flicked to and fro as he attempted to match heraldry to names.  Thankfully, after years of practice it was a relatively easy endeavor.  Well that and the fact that the tournament was fairly small, and thus, hadn't attracted knights from far and wide, just from the Riverlands.

Catching sight of Ser Ramsbold Dun, who was seemed to be searching for the Blackfin party with no small amount of urgency, he boomed "Ser Dun!" as he waved the man over.  Lady Gwendolyn was otherwise indisposed, engaged as she was in conversation with the peerage, so hopefully the knight wouldn't mind explaining just what precisely had him so riled up to Berion.

"Ser Ramsbold," he said in greeting, finding the man who was looking for them. He was unsurprised to find Ser Berion here as well.

"You look as though you've been long on the road and have had a hard journey of it. Let's get you a cup of wine and a seat. We'd be interested to hear about your travels and travails."

Cat finds a spot where she can see past people. She's short enough that her sightline is easily blocked by a crowd, but she'd slender enough and adept enough to squeeze through spots to get a view anyway. She takes note of the late arrivals, but she says nothing about them nor to them. When they've all passed by she slips away, making sure to get back before she's expected anywhere.

In reply to Ser Jarrak (msg # 2):

The minstrel reclined not far from Ser Jarrack’s own position, idly strumming his lute. He  watched in amusement as Ser Malus and Jarrak threw each other dark looks of recognition.

“I would beware that one, Ser Knight,” he chuckled merrily, beyond the hearing of the recent arrivals, “many a widow weeps over his fell blade, and an old family name can cover a multitude of sins, even at a wedding.”
This message was last edited by the player at 05:48, Thu 23 Dec 2021.

In reply to Berion Knollwood (msg # 3):

Ser Ramsbold nodded in appreciation at the warm greeting he received from Ser Thoren and Ser Berion, “It is good to be among friends,” he greeted the men he considered allies, sworn as he was to Lord Lothar Bracken, before sinking his head in a nearby trough of water, pulling it free, he turned to Thoren, “I’ll take that wine now.”

Seated, and away from prying eyes, he shared his news with both knights, “I travelled with a half dozen of my men at arms, taking the road through Riverthorn, for much of the trouble in my duties of patrolling the Riverroad originate there. A handful of small folk approached us, claiming to be afflicted and sick, but I soon saw through their ruse,” he took a long sip, as suspense grew for his tale, “they were not plague victims, but sentries, and when pursued, they fled to the abandoned estate. I dared not approach, but signs point to the ruins being occupied, not by a few loose brigands but by a band several scores strong, perhaps more. I sent two riders to Blackfin Den and two to Knollwood Tower and tasked my best two men to remain as scouts. I continued on alone to bring word. I do not think the threat posed is immediate, but it is something to be taken seriously.”
This message was last edited by the player at 08:17, Thu 23 Dec 2021.

Ser Jarrak hands two silver to Sam.  "Wise words."  He replies.  "It would not be the first time that old blood was spilled upon new steel, should fell deeds come to pass.". Armor cleaned, ball and chain polished, he starts honing his hunting knife.  "There is much to know, and by the Old Gods, fore warned is fore armed good Minstrel."
This message was last edited by the player at 10:47, Thu 23 Dec 2021.

Frowning at the meer mention of plague (hardly surprising given his family's history), Berion's expression became quite grim as Ser Dun detailed the situation.  "Several score?  You're absolutely sure?  Because if that's the case, we're looking at something far more insidious than a mere pack of bandits.  After all, you can't support those kinds of numbers for long by simply foraging.  Especially given the state of the land."

At this, he glanced at Thoren, seemingly looking for confirmation.  The older man had more experience campaigning than he, and thus, was a better judge about the sort of logistics required for this sort of thing.  Still, Berion was fairly confident in his assessment, and he quickly continued.

"Blight or no, I'd posit that such a large group of men would very quickly be forced to seek supplies elsewhere, and thus bring them into conflict with others.  Which would have brought them to our attention quite some time ago.  Unless of course, they are receiving outside aid..."

When Ser Ramsbold's cup ran empty, Thoren reached for the large pitcher on their table and refilled the knight's cup with his own hand. He nodded at the younger knight's thoughts on the matter, listening as Berion spoke.

"That number is not something to take lightly. Ser Berion I think speaks for us all - it's doubtful that a group so large could subsist on brigandry alone for very long. They must needs soon set their sights elsewhere. I had thought at first that perhaps they had some manner of sponsorship, but if they had the strength in arms that number might well have attempted to take you - not without losing at least a score or two of theirs, but it might have been worth it."

"You acted shrewdly; having scouts on that land would let us see who is coming, and hopefully my brother is in a position to send aid from the Den. This may not be an immediate threat, but so close as it is to our lands, it will be a problem sooner than later."

In reply to Ser Jarrak (msg # 8):

“Silver can help a man arm himself against many foes,” the minstrel agreed, pocketing the coins, “but it also speaks to a full purse, and there are many men of the hedge who would kill for little and less, especially if they thought their target alone, without another to watch his back.” He mused idly, adjusting the tightness of a few strings on the lute, only to be met with discordant noise.

“Of course an open purse also speaks to a man confident of where his next meal will come from, a man who is already in the service of another, or certain that such a possibility will arrive. A humble minstrel wonders which might be true,” Sam added, sizing up Jarrak speculatively.
This message was last edited by the player at 16:46, Sun 26 Dec 2021.

In reply to Berion Knollwood (msg # 9):

Ramsbold laughed as Ser Berion mentioned the idea of outside sponsorship, “That’ll be those few drops of Bracken blood in you Berion, seeing a Blackwood behind every tree or misfortune.” He grew more contemplative when Thoren supported the idea.

“Could be, could be, but I’ve little use for such guesswork. If they’re here in the first few days of spring, then like as not they’ve wintered in the estate. That’s what often happens over the winter, half the vagabonds freeze and starve, and the other half become more organised.”

“I’ve often thought there was more going on in Riverthorn than the nobles or king gave a mind to. Laws forbidding travel make smuggling and poaching more lucrative, and a farmer would rather risk his life tilling plagued ground, than have his wholes family starve. When the highborn finally get around to reclaiming the place, it will be like lifting a rock in the mossy ground - a thousand wriggling things will spring free.

Finally finishing his drink, Ramsbold gave a tired sigh, and moved to stand, “I’ll trust you to pass on my news and regards to your Lady Gwendolyn, though truth be told I’d hoped to make a fairer showing in the hopes of winning her favour at the tourney. I will find Lord Lyman, for I’d be a piss poor guest to hide such news from him.”
This message was last edited by the player at 09:18, Mon 27 Dec 2021.

In reply to Sam the Sweet (msg # 11):

"Farmers, tradesmen, and sell swords, be they under a hedge or not, will always be needed.  So long as they are, so too will those who craft music and song, to brighten the good times, and be ease the hard.". Ser Jarrak replies to Sam.  "It would be an offense against the old Gods to share salt, only to break faith and hospitality with ones' Host.". He continues.
  He tests the edge of his knife on his thumb, but finding it not sharp enough to his liking takes the whetstone to it again.  Looking at Sam with confidence, while guaging carefully his reaction.  "It is a wise man who lets not coin go fallow in his purse, but sows it well for future gain.  Oft too are skill and good faith rewarded by the wise, when they wish to hold what they have or seek to gain."
This message was last edited by the player at 21:48, Sun 26 Dec 2021.

Jenny observed the arrival of the lords, ladies and knights, dreaming of the tournament to come. "Won't the tournament be wonderful?" she said softly to the other ladies. She hid a smile as Ser Ramsbold said he was hoping to earn Gwendolyn's favor. Oh, romantic. The talk of bandits brought very different thoughts, and Jenny tapped the hilt of her stiletto briefly. But no, a girl shouldn't think about trying to fight bandits. She'd taken enough of a risk with her reputation already.

Chuckling softly, Berion clapped Ser Dun on the shoulders as the man finished his drink and excused himself.  Winking at the knight, Berion's wide smile made it quite clear that he was simply teasing as he replied "Just because I'm the only one who sees them doesn't mean they're not there."

Watching the Bracken banner depart, Berion turned to Thoren, and with an audible sigh took a deep draw from the mug in front of him before adding "Well then, I guess I know what we're doing when all of this is over hm?  Good thing I already started the spring muster."

Bryn looks on idly as the late arrivals filter through, mentally noting how and who they greet and are greeted by. His eyes search rapidly as it appears he takes a particular inventory of those aligned with House Blackwood, perhaps looking for someone in particular or merely checking heraldry for those absent.

He frowns slightly when Ser Ronald Darry arrives and gives his cousin such a cool greeting but otherwise his face betrays little but attentiveness.

Valen has been simply standing roughly nearby Ser Berion in case he needs to be attended in any way, for the arrivals, he doesn’t really know any of them beyond names and perhaps some minor facts in between them, so he simply hangs back and observes.

The talk of bandits does pique his interest, ridding the land of them is the righteous thing to do but it’s not his place to comment on such matters, specially when they sit in yet controversial lands. The way Ser Ramsbold behaves himself strikes the squire as very respectable for a knight, still he can’t help but frown for but a moment when he mentions who he’s seeking a favour from, still it’s not his place to comment and he’s far away enough from the conversation to not dwell on it for long.

He commits some of the appearances to mind for later.
This message was last edited by the player at 00:01, Wed 29 Dec 2021.