Jon tapped his fingers on the table as he glanced about the hall, the assorted small folk just as nervous as he. He found himself unable to eat, the rumours of what news the messenger carried had put him on edge and his stomach was knotted and had no wish to be filled. What news could facilitate the summoning of not only the entire small council but the myriad men and women throughout Fairmarket keep, and where was lord Lucias? He had received the messenger hours ago and had not been seen since, nor had this messenger. Jon sighed, looking to the rest of the council at the table, his wife next to him followed by Damon, then the lords empty chair and finally lady Lythene. The knights were sat around as well, eating and speaking quietly amongst themselves. Jon addressed all of them, "What is keeping Lord Lucias? Did he not call this dinner? Must this messenger name all the titles of all The lords in the Riverlands before the Lord of Fairmarket can attend his own dinner?", the dull joke was more for Jon than the others... he needed to calm his nerves.

Damon Vypren took a heavy breath as he listened to the remarks and small talk as his thoughts began to wander. He began to wonder of the weight of the messenger’s words— weight that would be so heavy that it would take as long as it did for his father to consider of how to respond and react. There were only a few answers that made any logical sense to Damon, though speculation was never a wise action; he would have to wait to understand what was going on. That is, if his father would choose to open a dialogue about it. Damon tapped his right index and middle fingers against the wooden table as he continued to think and his brows narrowed as people began to eat without the Lord of Fairmarket present. No matter the scenario, one did not begin without the lord— something his mother should’ve known, but perhaps she didn’t care. Just the thought of it made his stomach turn as a volatile anger rose from within. But he need not act on his temperament.

“Must you amuse yourself, Jon?” Damon remarked, with some bite to his words; words that made his wife, Jayne, look at him with a worried expression.

“It must be of utmost importance for us to be held for this long.”

“...and have we all forgotten that we do not begin to eat without the lord present?”

His eyes moved to one of the small folk present rather than his mother’s own. He meant no disrespect to the woman that birthed him, but she knew better— and she knew that. Why had she forgotten manners in lieu of her own hunger? Did the absence of Damon’s father equate to such apathy? Why was Damon the first to be worried and on that the only one who held virtues of patience over their own sinful gluttony?

Elyana sat there quietly as her husband and brother exchanged words. She casually glanced at her mother as she ate the food before her without her father being present. Obviously, this was not done and she could picture the smallfolk whispering amongst themselves about this act. She respected her mother, though, and wished she herself could partake in the meal as she was quite hungry. However, appearances have to be maintained and she remained seated, hands on her lap, waiting for her father to come.

It was about then that Lord Lucias Vypren entered the hall, frowning, and sat heavily at the head of the high table. He gestured at a nearby servant, who startled and then proceeded to pour a glass of wine. Lucias drank deeply before he began to speak.
"I hope you've not all denied yourselves on my account," he began, gesturing to the food that lay empty on most plates. "A bit of fortification might have done us all well, with the news that I am forced to bear.

"The courier this afternoon was a boy in the service of Lord Hoster Tully, commanding me to raise my banners and ride to the defense of Riverrun. It seems that the Lannisters have fallen upon the lords Vance and Piper at the Golden Tooth, where they were waiting to put a stop to any raids across the border. Lord Vance has been slain, along with the entirety of their host, and some fifteen thousand men now march on the riverlands." He paused, both to allow time for the information to digest and to allow a sudden coughing fit to subside.
"I mean to take most of our levies westward, as bid," he eventually continued, "but I will not leave Fairmarket undefended. Three hundred foot and half as many ahorse should do it, and the rest to join up with Ser Edmure Tully's amassing host. Damon, you know the city well -- you shall be castellan in my absence, and organize the city's defense. Ser Erwyn, Jon, you have my leave to join me or remain here, as you please.

"There is more news as well -- for you in particular, Jon. Ser Gladden Wylde has been slain at the Mummer's Ford, by that dog Gregor Clegane. You are the heir to the Rain House, it seems, but you must remain here all the same; to cross to the stormlands at such a time as this may well be suicide on its own, and you'll not be dragging my daughter and grandchild through a war."

With all the information on the table, so to speak, Lord Lucias sat back, coughed once more, and took another sip of wine. "Voice your objections now, or else I will be sending riders at dawn to gather the smallfolk and freeriders. Let them enjoy the last harvest many of them may well see."

Jon was rooted to his seat... digesting all the news that was just heaped upon him by the Lord upon his entering the hall. He had been about to respond to Damon when the Lord had entered the hall, a dour expression on his face. The first news alone was startling... that the Lannisters had begun raiding the Riverlands was... ill news. As he spoke though, Jon was relieved to have been given the choice to leave or stay, as he had no wish to rush himself into war... had that been all the news Jon would have begun eating, knowing soon that Damon as Castellan would have him running around Fairmarket... but it was not all the news.

The mention of the next news being important in particular for him brought back his attention, but in no way could have prepared him for what followed... Gladden was dead? Slain at the Mummers ford by the Mountain that rides? Heir to the Rain House... Jon sat in solemn silence a few moments, taking in what had just been said. He no longer wished to eat... his throat was filled with bitter anger... his brother was dead, and his killer was raiding the Riverlands at the behest of the Lannisters... Jon took his glass of wine and downed it, attempting to calm himself, slamming the glass down on the table and standing, looking to the Lord of Fairmarket, "... I carry no objections... I will accompany you and your banners to Riverrun... I must... I must excuse myself to... to send a raven... I will return.", he did not wait for his wife to object as he believed she would, Jon turned, shoving his chair aside, his face a mask of solemn resolve as he left the hall. He didn't care if doing so would be considered rude... he needed to let his father know that he knew of Gladden's death, but would not be returning to the Rain House per Lord Vypren's decree... besides Jon hoped riding to Riverrun would give him a chance to avenge Gladden in Lannister blood.

Upon reaching the rookery Jon snatched the paper he needed to write his letter, thoughts now rampant in his head... he was HEIR to the Rain House now... that thought kept running through his mind... once the message was sent he would begin to make his way back to the hall, to rejoin the Lord and his family.

Elyanna remains silent as her father speaks the horrible news of the impending war on the horizon. She is quick to catch the fact that Jon is now an heir. Pushed by two extremes, she turns her head toward Jon, only to have him rattle off quickly and run out of the room. She doesn't speak, it would be pointless. She folds her hands again and looks at her father, "I am sad to hear of this Father. Rest assured, I will do my best to console Jon and make sure he is able to uphold his duties during this time."

So the lions had come to feast upon the Riverlands once more.

Damon bit his tongue as his father spoke his words and his orders, though he had little issue for complaints to be made against his father or his liege. Had Damon had never returned home his father wouldn’t have had a heir to issue command in a situation much like this. He himself wondered if his father had predicted that some sort of conflict would make the rivers run red once again much like Damon had seen during the Greyjoy Rebellion; a conflict that had forged him into what he was today. He was no milk drinking fool like King Robert’s children had been. As his thoughts went back to the Greyjoy Rebellion he began to wonder how much blood would befall the current era; after all, there had been several bloody conflicts and full-scale wars that had plagued the last century of Westeros. Was this a curse that the Mad King’s spirit had left on them following the success of Robert’s Rebellion?

“As you wish, father. I will do as you expect of me.” Damon replied as he broke from his thoughts to answer; only moments before Jon took his leave for a time.