[Forum Game]ASOIAF : The Great Council of 233 AC

[Stark99]

House Frey

Seat: The Twins
Current Lord: Lord Walder Frey
Title: Lordship of the Crossing
Heir: Stevron Frey
Liege: House Tully

Lord Walder (25 years old) with his son, Stevron

Walder's Children
Stevron Frey (2 years old)
Emmon Frey, (1 year old)
Aenys Frey (3 months old)

Ser Franklyn Frey
Ser Franklyn is a uncle of Lord Walder, known to be a good fighter. (47 years old)
Perriane Frey
Perriane is a sister to Lord Walder, married to Lord Ambrose Butterwell. (41 years old)

​

 

[Haresus]

To Lord Whent,

Your foul fruit-throwing shall stop at once, and you shall apologise personally. Then you shall feast with us outside Harrenhal, providing food for me and my company, and if we see or smell anything rotten we shall assume that your very brain has decomposed within your skull and act accordingly.

Should you refuse this generous offer, I will demand satisfaction in a duel. No man of proper morals and with any sign of honour would refuse this demand.

Yours truly,
Lord Edmure Tully

 

[Imperator1993]

​

Lady Sabrina Tyrell, also known as the 'Wild Rose', was perhaps the most peculiar woman in the Reach. A beauty like most women of the Reach, but also a master of the blade. A defiant woman, she refused to marry any man who couldn't best her in one on one combat.

Many suitors had come and gone, and now another attempted to win the hand of this beauty. That man was Addam Florent, the heir of House Florent. The match was held outside of Highgarden, both combatants given a mail vest, and a blade.

The duel began as one would expect with both combatants circling each other, then the 'Wild Rose' struck! Florent did his best to block and hold her off but it proved far more difficult then he thought, she indeed lived up to the rumors of her skill with the blade. Ser Addam, held off her fury for a good five minutes, longer then many previous suitors before he fell and yielded. Lady Sabrina grabbed his hand and pulled him saying he at least did better then the last one. Another though had failed to tame the 'Wild Rose'.

 

[Draorn]

Yeah I'm out... my guy would know it was winter and not be a bonehead... Have fun all.

 

[Korona]

To the Lords of the Regency Council
((Private - Regency Council))

The education of our King may very well be the most important duty of this council, and it is a duty I do not take lightly. The realm will suffer if the King is educated poorly, or it will gain riches and splendor beyond belief, if his education goes well. As the Lord Regent, and the Hand of the King, it is my duty to ensure that the King has access to the best education possible, and after much deliberation, I have decided to ask the presence of Lord Gerold Lannister, to educate the King on economy and the Courtly Politics within the realm. To educate His Majesty on law I have decided to ask the Master-of-Laws, Lord Ormond Baratheon, to add this to his list of duties to the realm. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard will train with His Majesty, to ensure that he is a master swordsman by the time he has come of age. Finally, all other duties shall fall to the Lord Regent, whoever that may be. I hope the Council is content with this proposal.

~Lord Regent Brynden Rivers, Hand of the King

 

[Korona]

In the Name of the King
((A Joint IC between Jako and I))
((Private))​

The Red Keep arose amongst the blackened night, its crimson stone shining as a beacon of the Targaryen’s might. The entire city was built in just a few short years, something unheard of in Westeros history, and it was perhaps the largest of them all. Detail so fine that it could marvel the works of even Dragonstone, which was built by the Dragonlords of Valyria themselves.

Inside machinations of deceit and greed were aplenty, as it always were, but one unique occasion was happening today. The three eldest Kingsguard, Ser Christopher Cole, Ser Damion Sarwyck, and Lord Commander Alyn Connington had assembled in Maegor’s Holdfast, making fast to the tower of the hand. Two of the raven’s teeth guarded the tower, Alyn grunting at them. “Make way for the Kingsguard.”

The black-garbed men, with the white dragon of Brynden Rivers on their surcoats, stared at the armed knights, their face full of contempt and distaste. The soldier on the left stretched his mouth, revealing rotten yellow teeth. The soldier grunted a reply to the Kingsguard.

“What business does the Kingsguard have with the Lord Regent that can not wait until the Small Council meeting tomorrow?”

The Lord Commander knew that these men were devoted to the sorcerer fanatically. He did not wish to even think of the spells he had enchanted them with, and so when his brothers went to their arms, he rested his hand and made them cease. “Matters of the state. The Realm is in dire straits and only I, and the Hand, can fix this issue. If it pleases you, I shall go in alone. If you reject my passage, well.. You’ll have to explain to your liege why your heads are dislocated from your bodies.”

The man on the left, despite his unkempt appearance, was smarter than he looked, and smart men know when not to refuse the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard. “Aight. I’ll escort you into th’ Lord Regent’s chambers, but only you. Lord Rivers won’t be pleased if all three of you white knights come galloping in.” The soldier noded to the man on the right, who opened the door to the chambers, beckoning to the Lord Commander to enter.

His brothers grunted with disapproval, but he waved his hand and they stood watch over the two scoundrels, likely to make sure they did not try anything while he was inside. They often said that the Hand’s Tower was the ever-changing keep in westeros, reflecting its keeper. Brynden’s office was blackened and almost looked charred. There were weirdwood furniture and tapestries of his past, of battles fought, and of battles never having happened at all because of the Bloodraven. As the Pale Griffon came upon the old seer, he made his presence known and clicked his boots, staring down at the Hand, his hand firmly on the pommel of the castle-forged steel of his blade.

The Lord Regent sat in a Weirwood chair, one that was engraved with scenes from the history of Valyria, dragons burning armies, the Pyramids of Ghis aflame, and the Doom of Valyria, cracking the continent in four. Reaching out a pale hand, Brynden grasped a gold cup, filled to the brim with the Arbor Gold that seemed to run endlessly in the Tower of the Hand. Taking a sip, Brynden gave a smile that no one could see. “Ah, Lord Commander. What might be the unexpected pleasure of your presence on this fine day?”

That remark made the Knight snort, of course he would fine a day shrouded in clouds and thunderstorms a pleasant one. No matter. “You have served the King dutifully and your service is more than anyone alive can claim, however, your watch.. Is now at an end.” He planted down a transcript, written in full, detailing the Hand’s resignation. “I would recommend you read that over, before you sign it, my lord.”

Brynden read through it, his red eyes moving from line to line. Finally, Brynden picked up a quill, and dipped it in his black ink. Moving swiftly, Brynden wrote “Kiss my arse” on the paper, and stamped it with his personal seal.

The Knight laughed. “I had hoped you would do that, secretly.” He unsheathed his blade and made some space between them, the Knight was garbed fully in plate, while Bloodraven in leather as was the station of the Hand. “You are under arrest for treason against the Crown, my Hand.” He spoke with a sarcastic taste, “Pick up your sword, unless you are even more craven than I feared?”

Brynden stood, his age evident with every motion. Walking to the side of the table, Brynden grasps the leather handle of Dark Sister, and draws it, the Valyrian steel blade scratching on the scabbard. He turns and faces the Lord Commander, and gives him a rough smile.

“Come on then, let’s see how your footwork is after all these years.” The Kingsguard charged him with his full might, slashing for a lethal blow.

The Lord Regent lifted his blade, parrying the blow, although it knocked the Hand back a few feet. Responding in turn, Brynden moved to bring his blade down on the Lord Commander’s arm.

Alyn reared his sword and caught Brynden’s slash “Not so bad, for your age.” He snarked, and pushed down on Bloodraven, trying to use his size to overpower him in their struggle.

Using his sword as a rudimentary shield, Brynden pushed up, and stepped to his side and out of Connington’s way, letting gravity do the rest of the work.

Having put too much into this attack the Lord Commander charged into the desk, stopping himself just before, he was enraged now, and swung back in a circular motion to try and displace his opponent’s head in a rash move.

As if guided by the Warrior, Brynden ducked his head, and lashed out with Dark Sister, aiming for the Lord Commander’s left thigh. Striking it, The Knight bellowed, alerting his brothers, the fine steel cutting right through the plate and mail. But that wasn’t the worst of the wounds, his mind went blank, and Bloodraven had defeated him in one move, leaving Connington to slump down.

Brynden let out a massive exhale, his body caked in sweat. Realizing that he had no time to waste, the Lord Regent moved quickly, grabbing the ornate Weirwood chair, hastily propping it against the door. Letting out another exhale, Brynden put his arm on the chair, taking a second to rest, before calling for his guards. “Guards! Raven’s Teeth! To me!” Much to his dismay, Brynden’s voice echoed throughout the halls, and none of his Raven’s Teeth came.

Sarwyck let out a rage-filled threat as he tried the door. “Come out whoreson, there’s no one to save you now!” The Kingsguard barreled down the door as the commotion made them hurry to get to their Commander.

Grabbing sheathing his sword, Brynden hastily grabbed the parchment on his study, before he ran to the back wall of the study. Pushing a tapestry aside, he pressed his pale hand on a brick near the bottom of the wall, and the brick slide backwards, revealing a hidden door. Setting the parchment down, Brynden spit on the Lord Commander’s face before he shut the door, running down the secret stair that mirrored the one in the Tower of the Hand. Emerging outside the Red Keep, and in the city proper, the Hand of the King pulled his black hood over his face, and set off into the night for a brothel. It’s easiest to hide in the numerous brothels spread throughout the city, and Brynden needed a woman.

The Two Kingsguard finally made their way into the keep, but all they found was an unconscious Connington, and no traitor.. They looked at each other, “We will have to go with the backup.” Cole said, Sarwyck cursed before looking outside. “Quick, sheath your blade.” They walked outside and several lords and maidens came upon the scene, gasping at the blood.

Cole was the quicker of the two, and quickly made his voice known. “Good ladies and lords, we have all been played a fool of! The treasonous Bloodraven has been found to be guilt of kinslaying, regicide, and the most grievous sin of all, disrupting the guest right!” He spoke quickly, almost a bluster as the folk listened closely. “He invited the Lord Commander into his Keep, and when the Good Griffon found evidence to his crimes, he attacked, even after offering bread!”

Sarwyck looked concerned under his helmet before he took up the call. “He speaks true, the Sorcerer vanished before my very own eyes, threatening my family, nay, the entire city under his wrath. We could only best his cultish followers before we could save the Lord Commander.. They attempted to guard their lord, however misguided that may be.”

One Lord stepped to the front, “And who will lead the realm now, if what you say is true? The Lord Regent and Hand, accused of treason!” He seemed dumbfounded, and the Kingsguard looked at each other.

“P-Prince Aegon, why, the small council will be called and the Prince of Dragonstone will be called as well. Now, you, Gold Cloak, scatter this mob and quarante this area off, this is a matter of the Crown now and the Lord Commander will investigate this further once he has recovered.” They propped him up, carrying him back to the White Sword Tower, as the Gold Cloaks emerged to disperse the already questioning and gossiping crowd.

 

[Sneakyflaps]

Plots in the Dark​

Messengers had awoken both Lannister and Reyne that night, with what was unfolding in the tower of the hand. It didn't take long before Reyne received another messages from Lord Lannister, asking him to arm himself and bring the Lannister and Reyne retainers and knights with him to meet with Lord Lannister and the Queen Mother.

This didn’t take long and Roger soon arrived with the contingent of soldiers who were armed and ready for a confrontation. He ordered for them to secure the hall but avoid seeking out conflict, opting to approach the Queen Mother’s rooms alone. Roger himself wore a coat of chainmail under his red cloak, sword at his hip, though he wondered how much that would help him as he approached the two members of the kingsguard who were guarding the rooms.

They moved forward, blocking the path. “State your business.” Said Ser Garth Tarly, who stood next to Ser Oberyn Yronwood. “The Queen is occupied and has forbidden entry.”

“I am meeting with Lord Gerold and the Queen Mother, they are expecting me,” Roger stated, his hand dropping under the cloak to rest on pommel of his blade, figuring that he couldn’t be too careful until he figured out exactly what was happening.

The two kingsguards were confused, clear in their eyes as they had also heard what had happened during the night, Yronwood eventually nodded to Tarly and they attacked Reyne, and a fight broke out, the Lannister men helping Reyne and soon the Kingsguard members were in chains.

Roger kept careful watch on the two men from out of the corner of his eye as he entered the room. “Lord Lannister, Lady Targaryen. What exactly is going on here?” He asked as he entered to room, hoping that they would have more information.

Gerold sat calm and collected, looking over some scrolls, the Queen Mother on the other hand was more visibly worried as tried to put the king in his clothes. Gerold spoke up “Lord Brynden was attacked tonight, the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard and two other members.Brynden has escaped but we don't know where, the three Kingsguard are trying to declare him a traitor, we must move quickly. Have any of your men in the city reported anything and did you bring the men?”

“My question is why they are trying to do this my lord,” Roger asked, thumbing the jagged scar that ran along his jawline on the right side of his face, a habit he had developed since his time at Storm’s End. “It makes little sense, no one would accept Connington as Hand, and I cannot imagine that Aegon would support a plan such as this. Is it Baratheon?”

Gerold stood up and walked to the Queen Mother who was still worried, “Let me.” He said as he began putting the king in his clothes in a calm fashion, instead of the hectic way of the queen mother.

Roger nodded slowly. “As you say my lord. My, hm, my sources reported Brynden’s location to me shortly after what happened. They’ll follow him if he leaves, but he should still be there now, and I have assigned guards to watch over the place.” He paused, offering the Queen Mother a small smile. “Your daughters are somewhere safe my lady?”

She nodded. “They are in the next room with the wet nurses.”

Gerold took the king up, the small child was tired as Gerold looked at him. The Lion offered the child a smile and stole his nose making the king cheer up and smile before his mother came and picked him up. The two wet nurses from the next room came with the daughters and the lords left the room, going towards the throne room. Gerold stopped along the way, turning to an officer. “Take a small group and search through the tower of the hand.” As the officer nodded and took off.

When they arrived, the room was already beginning to be filled with courtiers that had woken up by the commotion. Several Gold Cloaks also lined the sides of the throne room. As Gerold and Reyne entered with about fifty retainers, two kingsguard and the king and his mother, the courtiers moved out to the side, and allowed them to pass, the party making way straight for the throne. The Queen Mother climbed the steps to the throne, sitting down with her son, the king, in her lap. Behind them off to the side stood the two wet nurses. At the bottom of the stairs stood the Lannister men, preventing others from climbing the stairs or getting within reach of the king and throne. Gerold went over to Reyne, speaking in a low voice. “No matter if a fight breaks out, then I want you to stay next to the king and queen mother, guard them with your life, do not interfere in a fight unless they charge up for them.”

“As you say my lord,” Reyne replied in the same quiet voice, letting his hand fall to rest on the pommel of his sword, his cloak still covering the chainmail that he wore underneath it. “Where will you be?”

“Overseeing whatever will unfold.” He responded.
Gerold turned around and walked forward, stepping two steps down the stairs and looking out over the throne room and the people within. He spoke up “Tonight as you are all aware by now, something happened in the Tower of the Hand, Lord Commander Alyn Connington, together with his brothers Ser Christopher Cole and Ser Damion Sarwyck attacked Lord Brynden Rivers. They claim he has committed treason and the three of them acted on their own behalf attacking the regent of the realm and as such the Crown and King.
The rivalry between the Lord Commander and the Regent was well known, and now this attempt to seize power has left the realm weaker and the Lord Commander a traitor.” Gerold said, letting the words hang a bit in the air. “The Commander and the men who so foolishly followed him have trumped up charges, and acted on their own without merit or cause and as such have broken their vows, attempting to dictate that Prince Aegon become the regent, and that the previous regent was to be removed, based solely on their fantastical opinion.
As such I hereby order Lord Commander Alyn Connington together with Ser Christopher Cole and Ser Damion Sarwyck be brought here before the court, and their king and charge them with high treason against the Crown. Should they attempt to escape or hide, and should anyone assist them in this action then they will likewise be found guilty of assisting traitors. Now I order every honourable knight to search every cranny of this keep until they are found.”

 

[oxfordroyale]

"House Baratheon seconds Lord Gerold's call for the traitors Lord Commander Alyn Connington, Ser Christopher Cole and Ser Damion Sarwyck to be brought before the court to face judgement for their actions. It shames me to no end that the lead perpetrator of these crimes would be of our own vassal house, though he swore a sacred vow and forsook his family ties. I am more than eager to assist the crown in any way I can in this dire matter."

- Lord Ormund Baratheon

 

[bakerydog]

"In light of recent events, House Stark places itself at the service of the crown. These traitors who forsook their vows must be apprehended, and accordingly brought before the King's Justice. I, and my nephew, are more than willing to aid the Realm in this time of need."

~ Lord Artos Stark

 

[luc124]

I, Lord Quenton Hightower am writing to the realm to address my opinion in regards to the events that took place in King's Landing. It is clearly known throughout the realm that I am not particularly fond of Ser Brynden Rivers, most know that I do not believe he was a good hand (Despite his intelligence), especially during the reign of King Aerys, first of his name. However, i do not support the action taken by the Lord Commander, I will admit my lords, I was made a fool before the Seven Kingdoms, by that dishonorable man, the Lord Commander. Some moons ago, I was told by him that a descision had been taken by the small council, approved by Houses such as Baratheon and Tyrell, that Bloodraven was to be removed the title of Lord regent and Hand of the King, however, i was not told that this action was supposed to be a Coup. I believed this was a Just action, supported by all Lords of the Realm. Call me a fool if you wish, i care little, but i do not accept what was done to Bloodraven, I still dislike him, but Nothing justifies a coup. I Believed this was supposed to be a just action, but it was not, i was fooled. I here leave a message of support towards Bloodraven. I want to keep the peace, and I will do whatever is needed to do so. I place myself under direct control of the Hand and await any further orders.

Signed,

Lord Quenton Hightower
Lord of the Hightower
Lord of the Port
Voice of Oldtown
Defender of the Citadel
Beacon of the South

​

 

[AzagalTheGreat]

To Lord Whent,

Your foul fruit-throwing shall stop at once, and you shall apologise personally. Then you shall feast with us outside Harrenhal, providing food for me and my company, and if we see or smell anything rotten we shall assume that your very brain has decomposed within your skull and act accordingly.

Should you refuse this generous offer, I will demand satisfaction in a duel. No man of proper morals and with any sign of honour would refuse this demand.

Yours truly,
Lord Edmure Tully

The sole reply to this message is more rotten food.

 

[oxfordroyale]

A Stormy Night - Part II​

The Red Lion felt his anger building as he made his way back to the great hall, anger directed towards both of the Baratheon brothers, Edric for his behavior in front of the Tarth girl, and Ormund for attempting to strong arm him. When he finally stepped into the feast once again he scanned the crowd for where Edric was sitting, no doubt with another whore already.

Unable to find the bastard, Roger turned and grabbed the arm of one of the passing servers. “Edric Baratheon, where is he?” He demanded, a roar already beginning to build in his throat.

“Ah, er, I believe I saw him exiting the hall over there milord,” the man replied hesitantly, but Roger had already released him and moved on by the time he finished speaking, heading out of the hall in the direction that the servant had pointed.

It did not take long to find him. The giggling could be heard down the hall, and after marching furiously towards its source he found the Baratheon bastard in a dark alcove largely hidden from sight. The same serving girl as earlier, now nearly naked, was pressed up against the wall, giggling like a child.

“Edric!” The Red Lion roared as he flew down the hall, hands clenched in tight fist. He reached the distracted man, throwing him away from the serving girl so as to not have her get caught up in the fight that was sure to follow.

Edric found his footing quickly, quickly buckling his belt. A grin formed on his face, but his eyes were angry. He disliked being interrupted. “No need for violence!” he said mockingly. “If you had only asked, I would have been happy to share. She’s a hungry slut, that one.”

Every word only made Roger grow angrier, until his vision seemed to covered in a red haze. He rushed forward at the Baratheon, his left arm snaking out to entangle Edric’s right, while aiming a punch at his solar plexus with his right.

Edric twisted out of the way at the last minute, evidently caught off guard - he had never before fought with someone who moved so fast, yet whose blows carried such noticeable power. Ripping his arm free of Reyne’s grip, he moved several steps back and fell into a proper fighting stance, resting lightly on the balls of his feet with his fists raised in front of him. He was no stranger to brawls - more often than not, he was the instigator.

For his own part, Roger was equally surprised, used to dominating physical confrontations, even if such battles tended to at least involve a dulled practice sword rather than bare fists. Rather than let this deter him however, the thought of a good fight only spurred him on and he followed closely on Edric’s retreat. He punched again, aiming for the smaller man’s gut.

What Reyne possessed in raw strength and the physical advantage in power and height, Edric realized, he could make for with his lithe and nimble movement. Dancing back from the blow, he made a rapid punch to the man’s face - a feint - before dropping down and savagely kicking at his knee.

Roger grunted in a mixture of surprise and pain as the kick connected with his knee, turning just enough to stop Edric from having done serious damage. Still, he could not keep from falling to one knee, only to launch himself at Baratheon, leading with his shoulder towards the man’s stomach in the hopes of bringing him to the floor as well.

Edric reacted a moment too late, Roger’s shoulder smashing him in the stomach and driving the breath from his body. He staggered backward, wheezing, and felt his legs wobble dangerously - however, he just managed to brace himself with one arm against the wall. Spots danced in his vision as, if from far away, he heard the serving girl scream for help.

Reyne barely heard the girl scream, he was so focused on the man in front of him. He took the opportunity to climb back to his feet and shake out his shoulders before breathing deeply and throwing himself at Edric once again, right fist cocked back and aimed right for his jaw.

Edric, disoriented but fast recovering his wits, saw the brawny man approaching and took a step backward, feigning retreat - as Roger came into striking distance, however, he crouched low, surged forward, and launched a strong uppercut towards Roger’s chin.

Roger hardly saw the strike coming, only moving his chin a fraction of an inch before the punch connected, throwing his head back and disorienting him as he raised his arms defensively to block any follow up that Edric may have had.

Edric, noticing this, attacked from below rather than above, taking aim once more Roger’s lower body - this time delivering not a kick to the knee, but rather attempting to sweep the man’s legs out from under him and bring him painfully to the floor.

This though, Roger was prepared for, having used a similar technique just a few days ago in the melee when fighting Ser Duncan, and he stepped aside, out of the way of the attack. Beginning to realize that fighting like this would only continue to favor Edric, Roger stormed forward again, arms spread to trap him in a crushing bear hug.

Edric swore, jumping to his feet. Roger was rushing at him headlong now, and it appeared that he had realized his optimal strategy - use his sheer height and physical dominance to overpower him. He stepped backwards a few paces, mind racing as to how he could best his opponent … he could keep dodging, wear him down … he could try and trip him up again … or …

He rushed the attacker head on, something which seemed to take the big man by surprise. Then, the moment before they collided, Edric flicked a dagger from its tiny sheath at his waist and drove it into Roger’s side, the point puncturing just below the ribs. It was a little thing, narrow and scarcely longer than his index finger, but it was wickedly sharp.

Roger grunted, the air driven from his lungs as the dagger entered his side, sending a wave of pain through him. “Fuck,” he gasped. Despite the surprise of the stabbing, Roger still had adrenaline coursing through his veins, as well as experience with such wounds from the Storming of Starpike. Rather than collapse or recoil in fear like a common thug, Roger carried on his with plan now that Edric was within arms reach, grabbing ahold of him and wrestling him to the ground.

They both hit hard, though Edric received the worst of it - his head cracked sharply against the flagstones upon landing. He tasted blood and realized, dimly, that he must have bitten his tongue. Struggling beneath the weight of his attacker, his advantage in speed and ease of movement gone, Edric resolved to use the only weapon left at his disposal. Pulling his knife from Roger’s side, he instead thrust towards the side of his neck, going for the kill. He could see it now, the man screaming as blood poured from his -

The dagger stopped, his wrist grabbed by another and held in place. Tion stood with his hand around Edric’s, twisting it around making him drop the dagger to the ground, even if it broke Edric’s arm for all he cared. “What in the seven Hells are you two doing.” He said, looking at them both who looked like shit, with blood running down Roger’s side and from Edric’s mouth. “Get off him.” Tion said to Roger.

“This brute came roaring down the hall and attacked me.” Edric said, rolling onto his side and spitting blood onto the floor. “I thought he meant to kill me.”

“Oh shut it, save it for your father.” Tion said before looking up at the naked girl sitting in a corner, cowering. “A naked girl, you half naked and him stabbed.” Tion shook his head. “The hell were both of you thinking.”

“What is going on here?” Ormund Baratheon appeared behind Tion, along with a contingent of half a dozen household guards. “Lord Beesbury came to me saying there was a disturbance. Someone pl -” He stopped as he took in the scene: Roger Reyne bleeding as his sister helped him lean against the wall, a naked girl hiding in an alcove, and … Edric, smiling, his white teeth smeared with blood. A blood-stained knife lay near his hand.

“What did you do?” he breathed, his fist clenching at his side. Tearing his eyes from his brother’s almost jubilant face, he turned to the guards. “Take both my brother and Lord Reyne into custody, and have healers see to their wounds. I shall summon my father, and we shall discover what has transpired here.”

Tion took a step back, “I will have one of my own men look at Roger.”

Ormund ground his teeth in frustration. Lannister pride - and now, of all times? Regardless, he could afford such an argument. He nodded to the boy. “Very well. However, Baratheon men shall be posted outside the room. I hope you can understand how serious of an incident this is, and why it is necessary.”

Tion nodded. “I do, what has transpired here is very severe.” Tion looked at both Roger and Edric, his eyes going over their wounds before turning to Ormund. “As such I trust to be kept informed and consulted as to what happens from here on.”

“Of course.”

Both men were taken away to separate parts of the fortress, and it fell upon Ormund to reassure the worried revellers that everything was under control, that there had been a minor dispute but the feast would go on. Thankfully there had been few witnesses to the fight, and those that had had been ushered into a private room to keep it quiet. He sent a retainer to fetch his father - Lord Lyonel was reportedly roaming the tourney grounds outside, stone drunk, entertaining the hedge knights with bawdy tales of his youth - and in the meantime tried to comfort the girl in the alcove. Her name, he recalled, was Bessy, and she was naked save for the tattered remains of her server’s uniform. He gave her his cloak, which he accepted gratefully.

“Can you tell me what happened?” he asked, as tenderly as he could.

“He attacked him, the big one,” she said, eyes wide. “And they fought. Then the big one tried to crush him, and then Edric pulled out a knife.” She turned to him. “I was so scared, milord - we was having such a good time and then ...”

“You are the servant girl from earlier.” Tion said as he looked at her doubtfully. “Left the feast to come out here and fuck him, and you want me to believe that one of my father’s bannermen was the instigator, why should I believe you? A servant girl slandering a lord.”

Ormund looked at her. “If you are lying, girl, there will be grave consequences. Do you understand?”

Bessy was, quite plainly, terrified. She threw herself at Tion’s feet, her cloak nearly slipping off in the process. “I’m so sorry Lord Lion, I swear, I speak only the truth, that’s all I saw, I didn’t mean - Please, don’t hurt me -” She burst into tears.

Ormund crouched and grabbed her by the shoulders, moving her so her back was once more against the wall. “It’s alright, Bessy. He’s not going to hurt you, he just wants the truth. As do all of us.”
She nodded tearfully.

Tion looked at Ormund, slightly annoyed, then back at the girl. “Why would Lord Reyne attack Edric, it makes no sense.”

Ormund frowned, deeply troubled. He motioned for a guardsman to watch the girl and took Tion by the arm further down the hall, where they could speak in private.

“I was reticent to mention this to anyone, my lord, much less you, but scant moments ago my wife and I discovered Lord Reyne and Shiella Tarth … alone, together, and in a state of undress. My understanding is that after she was upset by Edric, he followed her to … console her. I ensured that he left immediately and that matters did not go too far, but perhaps he might have harbored a grudge and sought my brother out?”

Tion frowned ever so slightly. “Your brother’s bride.” Tion said thinking about it. “It seems that she managed to enrage him against your brother. Perhaps in hindsight, leaving him to blow off steam would have been the better option, for all parties involved.” Tion was unimpressed. “So, it seems clear what happened, let the maesters attend to their wounds and move on, pretending this didn't happen.”

“Pretend this didn’t happen? My lord, with all respect, your bannerman assaulted a son of House Baratheon in his own castle, and blood was shed. How do you suppose nothing will come of this? I am inclined to let the matter slide given Edric’s nature, but my father is a proud man. He shall be enraged at the news.”

“I trust you can calm him?” Tion asked.

Ormund laughed bitterly. “He is not called the Laughing Storm for nothing. I may be persuasive, but this is a grave matter and likely to cause his blood to boil. I would not be surprised if he calls for a severe punishment for House Reyne no matter what I say to him.”

“Then what?” Tion asked, somewhat arrogantly. “Do you expect the causes for this brawl will not come out. Should it come out what has happened here, certainly if your father demands a punishment than any possible rumour will be confirmed. Your brother will be known as a cuckold who can't control his wife, a boy and nothing more. Lord Tarth will be disgraced and so will your brother’s wife, seen as a wanton woman. If it comes to trial by combat, Reyne just won the melee, are you sure that he will be defeated?”

“The repercussions would be dire, yes - but my father cares little for that. He will smell blood, and not rest until Roger Reyne is brought to justice for his “slight”. It would be disastrous for all parties involved.” Ormund thought carefully. “We could, I suppose, settle this in a way that would be both private and satisfactory to my father.”

Tion crossed his arm. “And what would that require, if your father is smelling blood, it would require a lot of settling to ensure that he is satisfied with the outcome.”

“Lord Reyne and my father nearly came to blows during the Great Council, but a duel was forbidden by Bloodraven. If a private duel were to be organized between the two, I am confident that my father would seek no further action regardless of the outcome. Contrary to popular belief, he does need a crowd to relish a fight.”

Tion looked surprised, “A private fight, no matter the outcome and he will forgive and forget this? What if he does not?”

Ormund shrugged. “Who can say? But if he agrees, if I can convince him, this whole mess would be forgotten. I believe it worth a try, anyway. Of course, I would need you or your father’s approval, as his liege.”

“I imagine that it is to first blood, and not to the death, I approve then if Lord Reyne consents that this be the outcome.” Tion responded.

“Yes, to first blood. My father deals in honour, not death.” Ormund cast his eyes once more on the bloody knife - he stooped to pick it up, stowing it away. He turned to Tion and extended a hand. “Do we have an agreement, Lord Lannister?”

Tion shook his hand. “We do.”

 

[jeeshadow]

As Master of Ships, I am loyal to the Crown, and by extension, its Hand. As such, I support Lord Bloodraven, and will do what ever is in my power to bring the traitor Connington to justice.

-Lord Jacaerys Velayron, Master of Ships, Lord of Driftmark

 

[Maelvona]

Justice for the Noble
​

Lord Commander Alyn Connington had awoken, and made quill at the White Book, finishing his introduction of Ser Wendell into his own page. Sarywick and Cole were preparing themselves in their cots, meanwhile Arryn had made himself comfortable against the back of the wall. The Kingsguard were all garbed in white and were thinking about their lives, what they could have been, what the meaning of their oaths were. It was a very delicate, but crucial thing to become a Kingsguard. There was banging at their door, the tower was well secure, and Ser Alyn had even installed a fortified door, in case any of the members of the royal family had to find safe passage into the tower. Connington sighed and he and the three others made their way to the rooftop, to treat with their intruders.

"My Lord, our liege tells us to bring you to the throne room immediately." A man in black and gold garb spoke up to him, they had two lannister banners, and about twenty men in all outside of their doorway. More were running over after it had become clear this is where the remainder of the Kingsguard were.

The Lord Commander planted his hands onto the red stone, the white flags waving in the darklight. "On who's authority does beckon me to the Throne Room. The King's?" The men fidgeted, they were obviously Lannister men, had came here with him when he bed the Queen. When he dishonored his late wife. When he made himself a fool infront of the court, but his rotten gold kept them safe from scrutiny.

"Lord Gerold Lannister, he has made himself clear that he will not tolerate any foolery, and brands you a traitor to the realm." This earned a smile from Connington.

"Ah so the Lion claims to speak for the realm, for the King? I did not know that the Grand Council had appointed him.."

The Knight interrupted, "If you wish not to treat with him then whom, Lord Commander? You disgraced yourself by attacking your liege."

There were some gold cloaks mixed in with the accusers, Connington shook his head. "I was presenting my claim to the Hand, he rejected such proposals and did battle with me. After he assaulted me with his magic, my men attempted to save me from his machinations. But I see that you do not have any claim into this, and likely are filled with greed from your good Lord. I will say this, I demand a trial, and for Brynden the Bastard to oversee this. He escaped my prosecution, it is only fair that he does his right as Regent and oversees for the Crown. I mean, it wouldn't be fair to say that Lord Gerold is already the King's father, would it?" He cheekily said that, making the soldiers bluster.

"We will likely all die before our king, but we did as Maekar would have wanted." It was said solemnly, and the Kingsguard made their way downwards, and accepted arrest, but would only accept to speak and be judged by The Regent. Whether Lord Lannister would comply and wait for Bloodraven to return was another matter, as they were being escorted to the Black Cells, to await trail for High Treason, but none of the Kingsguard spoke much words besides their innocence, which was to be expected.

 

[Sneakyflaps]

Gerold sent off the Gold Cloaks to go collect Lord Brynden.

 

[Andre Massena]

Lord Bloodraven was a vile man who left the Redwynes to defeat the Ironborn on their own because of his vendetta against Bittersteel. Wendell bore the wounds of this folly on his right leg.

But a traitor? Lord Commander Connington's accusation surprised him. Bloodraven, for all his many faults, had worked his whole life to defend the realm against enemies like the Blackfyres and he was the Hand-Regent. However, Wendell had pledged to follow the commands of the Lord Commander and protect the royal family so he obeyed Connington when he told him to guard Princess Vaella. The Lord Commander was gruff when he woke Wendell in the middle of the night to give him his command and said little about the situation. Wendell had worn his white cloak for less than a moon; he supposed it would be some time before the Lord Commander took him into his confidence. Still, he would have liked to know more. Mayhaps Connington had been planning for this moment for a long time and he only wanted him for the ships and wealth of House Redwyne. He did not like that thought.

He wondered what Runceford would do in this situation. Most likely his brother would work against Bloodraven, but only if he was safely aboard one of his ships. Runceford, for all his wroth, could not stomach a fight on dry ground where he was not protected by his massive fleet. Was he working with Connington? Did he ensure the appointment of a brother to the Kingsguard so that Bloodraven could be removed? Wendell swore a vow to protect the king, however, and he could not worry about what his brother wanted. He had worried about what his father and brother had wanted for too long. But how was the Kingsguard to fulfill its vows if the king was a baby? The situation was unprecedented in the history of the united Seven Kingdoms, for even Aegon the Unlucky was at least old enough to read, write, and speak when he assumed the throne. Could the Kingsguard act against the regent, especially one with the blood of a dragon? The whole scenario made Wendell feel extremely uneasy and he prayed to the Crone and Warrior for wisdom and strength. He resolved that he would follow the example of his idol and fulfill his duty and guard the princess. The gods would sort the matter out.

The princess slept soundly in her chamber. No sounds penetrated the hallway for Vaella's chambers were tucked away in a remote part of Maegor's Holdfast that faced the sea and was separate from many of the other chambers. The girl, a sweet and simple thing, preferred it this way.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps approaching from the other end of the long, narrow corridor. Six goldcloaks, a guardsmen he recognized from the Raven's Teeth, and a knight clad in thick armor enameled with a House Targaryen cloak approached.

"Ser Wendell," the Raven's Tooth addressed him delicately. "Put down your sword and no harm shall come to you. The man was tall and fierce looking with a gaunt face. Wendell could take him individually, but the others? The narrow hallway reduced their numerical advantage but he was only too well aware that he was not Aemon the Dragonknight or his illustrious ancestor, Ryam Redwyne.

"My orders are to protect the princess," Wendell replied curtly as he slowly moved his hand over the hilt of his sword.

"The Lord Commander has committed treason against the king," the Raven's Tooth said. "He and two of your sworn brothers attempted to seize and kill the Hand-Regent."

So Connington had failed. The illustrious lord commander who had fought valiantly for the crown for decades would now be forever remembered as a traitor. Wendell's heart began to race. He did not want to end his career as a kingsguard in disgrace, not only after he had just started.

"How am I to know the truth of this?" Wendell asked. "The Lord Commander told me that it was Lord Bloodraven who committed treason."

"Did he tell you what this 'treason' was exactly?"

Wendell could only frown.

"I thought as much. Put down your sword to prove you are not a part of this conspiracy and we will show you the truth of the matter. The Hand-Regent will speak with you when he returns to the castle."

"And then throw me in the black cells?" Wendell asked.

"Not if you are innocent," the Raven's Tooth replied. "My lord has his ways of knowing."

He did not doubt that.

How many eyes does Bloodraven have...

"Very well," Wendell said, reluctantly. He slowly unsheathed his sword and gently placed it on the stone floor. He prayed that the guards did not stab him right then and there. How embarrassing would it to be forever known as the kingsguard who was slain after surrendering his weapon!

The Raven's Tooth considered him for a moment.

"Good," he said. "Follow me, then." He looked at the knight and of the goldcloaks. "Lemy and Ser Artos, take Ser Wendell's place and guard the princess."

The five remaining goldcloaks, the Raven's Tooth, and Ser Wendell started down the corridor from whence they had came. Wendell did not know if he was walking to his doom. He sincerely wished that he was at Humfrey's wedding instead. He could use a good glass of Arbor vintage right about now.

All he could do now was pray.

Justice for the Noble
​

Lord Commander Alyn Connington had awoken, and made quill at the White Book, finishing his introduction of Ser Wendell into his own page. Sarywick and Cole were preparing themselves in their cots, meanwhile Arryn had made himself comfortable against the back of the wall. The Kingsguard were all garbed in white and were thinking about their lives, what they could have been, what the meaning of their oaths were. It was a very delicate, but crucial thing to become a Kingsguard. There was banging at their door, the tower was well secure, and Ser Alyn had even installed a fortified door, in case any of the members of the royal family had to find safe passage into the tower. Connington sighed and he and the three others made their way to the rooftop, to treat with their intruders.

"My Lord, our liege tells us to bring you to the throne room immediately." A man in black and gold garb spoke up to him, they had two lannister banners, and about twenty men in all outside of their doorway. More were running over after it had become clear this is where the remainder of the Kingsguard were.

The Lord Commander planted his hands onto the red stone, the white flags waving in the darklight. "On who's authority does beckon me to the Throne Room. The King's?" The men fidgeted, they were obviously Lannister men, had came here with him when he bed the Queen. When he dishonored his late wife. When he made himself a fool infront of the court, but his rotten gold kept them safe from scrutiny.

"Lord Gerold Lannister, he has made himself clear that he will not tolerate any foolery, and brands you a traitor to the realm." This earned a smile from Connington.

"Ah so the Lion claims to speak for the realm, for the King? I did not know that the Grand Council had appointed him.."

The Knight interrupted, "If you wish not to treat with him then whom, Lord Commander? You disgraced yourself by attacking your liege."

There were some gold cloaks mixed in with the accusers, Connington shook his head. "I was presenting my claim to the Hand, he rejected such proposals and did battle with me. After he assaulted me with his magic, my men attempted to save me from his machinations. But I see that you do not have any claim into this, and likely are filled with greed from your good Lord. I will say this, I demand a trial, and for Brynden the Bastard to oversee this. He escaped my prosecution, it is only fair that he does his right as Regent and oversees for the Crown. I mean, it wouldn't be fair to say that Lord Gerold is already the King's father, would it?" He cheekily said that, making the soldiers bluster.

"We will likely all die before our king, but we did as Maekar would have wanted." It was said solemnly, and the Kingsguard made their way downwards, and accepted arrest, but would only accept to speak and be judged by The Regent. Whether Lord Lannister would comply and wait for Bloodraven to return was another matter, as they were being escorted to the Black Cells, to await trail for High Treason, but none of the Kingsguard spoke much words besides their innocence, which was to be expected.

((Shouldn't Arryn be at Dragonstone, assuming we need a kingsguard there? Otherwise I can just change my IC to be there instead, though I doubt the LC would send the newest kingsuard knight there immediately after he joined.))

 

[bakerydog]

Winter still reigned over the North, continuing its unceasing attack upon the Northmen. Men sought refuge within their holdfasts and prayed to the Old Gods for Springs return. Such hope by now was fading, and winter began to take its toll.

"Another man lost outside the North Gate m'lord, the cold took 'im right in front of my own eyes. We're doin' all we can to keep the road open." At this the ever stoic Lord Stark simply stared at the Guard, sizing him up, a young man perhaps of both his cousins age who had never before seen the touch of winter. A particularly cold wind blew through the shutters into Lord Stark's chamber. "As long as you can keep the North Gate connection into Winter town, the Band can take care of the rest. You may leave, but close those damn shutters first." The Guard closed the shutters and left.

The brief respite from his duties in the North in the form of the Great Council provided Lord Stark with at least some recent memories of warmth that didn't stretch back more than two years. In the North, warmth became a myth during the winter. During some of the worst blizzards, he wondered why he had sent his uncle and his cousins to King's Landing rather than staying himself. Until he reminded himself he was a Stark of Winterfell, and only he was the Lord of Winterfell. Lord Stark's musing at his desk was interrupted when the now visibly pregnant Lady Stark entered his chambers.

The interrupted Lord stood up, "Are you in the middle of something Edwyle?"
"My Lady, I am always at your service."
Lady Stark gave a slight grimace at this answer, which was ever the same.
"I was wondering if you wanted to talk about a name for the baby. If it is a boy I was thinking along the lines of an older name like Theon, Brandon, or Jon. And if it is a girl we'd do the same, maybe Sarra or Alys."

The name Theon sounded familiar. He had done an unusual amount of reading in the past half-year so it was not unlikely to have read about a Theon. Theon Stark. It came back to him. The great King in the North. The man who had defeated rebels, Andals, Wildlings, Sistermen, and the Ironborn in a single lifetime. Yet there are many Kings of Winter who have done the same.

"Theon sounds like the name of a man to be respected. Of course my Lady, you are the mother of my children and thus I think it fitting for you to choose a name worthy for my second child. Should the child be a girl I quite like the name Sarra." Lord Stark spoke with a certain finality in the matter.

"I'm glad you also like some of those names, but I'm surprised you haven't yet asked how Rickard's doing." And now Lady Stark herself spoke with indignation.

Lord Stark often showed, what could be called a "disinterest" in his heir. On the contrary, he cared very much for the boy but as with most Starks, didn't feel a need to express it.

"Rickard is strong and healthy. Why must I inquire upon every little thing he does? The boy does not require my attention at this age."

Once again Lady Stark was not impressed. Hailing from the relatively small House Locke and growing up with only two brothers, she was used to close familial ties. Winter certainly had not made him any softer.

"He barely knows who you are right now, and when do you plan to see him more regularly?"

"Perhaps when he is 4 or 5 years of age. He'll be more than a babe by then. Is that it my Lady?"

"Yes Edwyle, I'll check up on Rickard now." She started to leave the room clearly perturbed.

She had opened a chink in his armor with that. How could he in good conscience not at least make sure his son is weathering winter?

"My Lady, wait, I shall accompany you."

 

[Maelvona]

((Shouldn't Arryn be at Dragonstone, assuming we need a kingsguard there? Otherwise I can just change my IC to be there instead, though I doubt the LC would send the newest kingsuard knight there immediately after he joined.))

(Aegon has Dunk, so any Kingsguard sent there would be rather defunct anyways. You'd probably be the first draft pick to go to Dragonstone!)

 

[Korona]

Justice​

The Lord Regent was angry. Angry at the Kingsguard and above all, himself. Standing in the Tower of the Hand, Brynden put his pale hand on the very same Weirwood chair he used to keep the Kingsguard away form him. Sighing, he looked himself over, straightening his jerkin, adjusting the pin that signified his status as Hand of the King, before he walked out. After the attack on the Tower of the Hand, Brynden doubled the number of Raven's Teeth he had guarding the Tower, making it almost a garrison for his personal bodyguard. Four of his Raven's Teeth took positions behind him, all wearing their black armor with the white dragon of Brynden Rivers inlaid into their surcoats. Making his way through the Red Keep, Brynden reached the door leading to the back of the Great Hall, a spot where the King usually entered as the Iron Throne was only a short distance away from the door. Breathing, Brynden adjusted his posture, and entered the Great Hall. Already seated on the Iron Throne was Daenora, with Maegor sitting her lap. The central floor of the Great Hall was empty, but the galleries on either side of the central floor were packed with nobles, knights, and ladies, all eager to see the judgement of the Kingsgaurd. The crowd hushed at Brynden's entrance, one of his favorite effects of being Hand and Regent was the respect that his posts afforded.

Standing in front of the wooden chair reserved for the regent, Brynden spoke in an authoritative voice. "Lords and Ladies of the Seven Kingdos, Sers, and esteemed guests, we stand here today shocked and bewildered. The Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, and two knights of the Kingsguard, who are sworn to protect the Crown, have committed an act of treason. A mere three days ago, Lord Commander Alyn Connington, Ser Cristopher Cole, and Ser Damion Sarwyck broke into my chambers, killing two of my guards, and attempting to kill me. Luckily, I escaped with my life, but the actions of the Kingsguard still ring in my ears. Today, these men will face justice for their crimes agains the crown." Brynden stood silent, letting his words sink in before he motioned to a Targaryen soldier to bring the traitorous knights in. Nodding, he walked out, and a short while afterwards, he returned with Lord Commander Alyn, Ser Cole, and Ser Sarwyck in chains, all of them still wearing the while cloaks of the Kingsguard. Giving a hint of a smile to the Lord Commander, Brynden stood straighter. "Alyn Connington, Cristopher Cole, and Damion Sarwyck. After much deliberation, you have been convicted of high treason, with the intent to assassinate the Lord Regent and Hand of the King. Because of the severity of your crimes, you are stripped of your White Cloaks, and expelled from the Kingsguard." A gasp went through the gallery. "However, because of your past service to the Crown, you may continue serving the Seven Kingdoms, and join the Night's Watch. But if you refuse this generous offer, then your lives will be forfeit, and you will be sentenced to death. This is the wish of the Crown. May the Seven Guide you to make the right choice."

With that done, Brynden sat down, awaiting the response of the former Kingsguard.

 

[Maelvona]

"Brynden Rivers, Your office holds no weight in these halls, and your inflammatory insistence on bearing the mantle to carry out the sentence leads me to believe that even besides being a sorcerer, a bastard, a kinslayer, you are in fact as well a lawbreaker." The Knight stood firm and watched as he was talked about among the courtroom. "I accused you of mismanagement of the realm and attempted treason against the crown, and yet you see yourself fit to rule over your own verdict! Surely a just man would allow an impartial party such as the Faith, who has usually carried out matters in which the state collides, to oversee a trial. Even the Maesters could have reviewed the laws and seen my case, and yet you see no point to trial, you see nothing, because of course you would never find yourself guilty. My sole duty is to protect the King."

He pulled his sword and studied it, "And therefore I deem that no mortal authority on this plane can judge the Kingsguard, you have desecrated these halls, combining all the powers of the Crown into your measly title, seeing it fit to hold the very weight of the entire realm. Well that is not your duty. That is not your right. I am being judged by the very man I accuse, and so, I cannot accept any trial you put forth, and any word you spew from your mouth is afoul with the reek of arrogance, despair, and utter contempt for your office. Only the Gods can judge myself, and so, I would ask for your last bit of dignity to accept, for I demand Trial Of Seven. You stand against the very honor the Kingsguard, and put yourself above the King himself, so I shall let the gods decide who has the right, for only they know, and only through their will, will this conflict be put to rest. The Kingsguard serve for life."