Somewhere off the coast of Massey's Hook

The ship rocked forwards and backwards, the distant sight of the morning sun on the horizon. They had left port last night, and were about to start passing Tarth soon, which would come on their east. This was a mission of a low key, and both Garland and Alerie had been reunited after making it back to the rest of the Redwyne Fleet that were deployed to the Blackwater Bay as a logistical support to the campaigns of the Reach as well as being approximately a quarter to a third of the existing Royal Fleet that Aerys had in theater already, sitting in the bay and simply watching the chaos unfold. From there, the majority of ships had met the navy of Tarth, and it had been a confusing divide. You couldn't tell exactly which ship Garland and Alerie were on, with this particular convoy having a set of green and gold sails, wind carrying the ships south-eastwards, across the Narrow Sea. It was a galley, with around 50 men or so on board, out of four ships detached from the main Reachman navy, flying predominantly Redwyne flags.

On the deck, Garland leaned against the wooden barrier, his health a little better since he'd come to sea. They had missed a major storm, one of the Captains had told him- ones that no doubt, had shielded the Targaryen sisters' voyage, and in the aftermath, the sea was no longer a bubbling, seaming cauldron. It seemed a little more gentle, though waves crashed and roared around the ship on occasion, the land masses that they had once been upon now in the distance. Garland could walk now- his legs were fine, it was more to do with his strength, the Maesters had said. He just needed to rest, though as of now, he wanted to at least be able to get around. He looked at those seas, his hair blowing in the breeze, sea salt on his lips, and his sword at his side again. His armour had been quickly looked at by an Armourer in King's Landing, and had repaired the damage that had been done, though Garland had no intent on wearing it just so quickly. It was a couple of weeks to home from here, yet Garland knew that there was a couple of visits he had to make. Baela was in the eastern Stepstones, while Rhaenyra had settled in Bloodstone, rumours already circulating that the pirates were routing, and they were already . Garland himself felt a little better, and indeed, despite his scars and the Milk of the Poppy that he occasionally took, things were improving a little better now he was out of the capital. He was able to hold his weight, his legs feeling like they responded to his want to stand, and while he leaned on pretty much anything, be it a cane or a side, he could probably stand if he had to force himself to, and endure a little strain in his side.

He was young after all, and the blood of Reachmen seemed to be a resilient one by it's well-sustained nature; unlike Northmen, the Tyrell blood seemed to be strong because they had food in their stomachs, not fire in their hearts. The wound could have been far worse, he reminded himself. Any further, he'd certainly have died, any lower, and it would have gone through his stomach and intestines, and he'd have died. Garland's lung had remained intact, or else he would have probably gotten infected, and the fact of the matter was, Garland was driven to at least stand on his two feet. He had two more weeks of being able to get used to movement, and then being able to hone his sword skills once more. Drawing the blade gently from his hip, he looked over the rose inscribed into the top. Every good sword had a name, he heard. He had still never named his, thoughts of it had gone through Garland's head, but he hadn't ever found the chance. He had a whole sea journey, he thought to himself, as he lay his thoughts to something else altogether. His twenty-second nameday was barely in a few days time, and he would be sitting in the hold of a ship, waiting to go home.

Garland knew the Stepstones well, and he knew that whatever strategical value they posed for the Seven Kingdoms, it was not in resources. No gold, no silver, iron, disorganized men with a low population, and a position that placed it out of reach out of easy control of the King of the Seven Kingdoms. How it hadn't become controlled by Lys, Pentos, or Tyrosh, was the real question, as the culture that it had was more in common with those, than of Westerosi Valyrian principles. The islands were hilly, and fish stocks were good, albeit piracy was lucrative for a good reason....it was easier to cripple trade than it was to cast nets, particularly when a band of merciless thugs could do that very well. The Reach did not dabble in Anti-Piracy, and when it did, the Redwynes were held accountable, and it always came back, growing like a weed in the dirt because if it completely died out, someone would stake a claim and take the whole of the island chain....and this was particularly what was going on right now. Still, a Queen of the Stepstones was an interesting move that Garland guessed Rhaenyra would want to make after this invasion, and one that had removed the two Targaryens from their responsibilities in Westeros, in the slithering in-between of Westeros, and Essos, a blank canvas in which to rule. Or, as Garland had figured it out, somewhere to learn how to rule. Like Queen Daenarys Stormborn Targaryen, who ruled in Astapor, Yunkai and Mereen before she made her invasion of Westeros an intent, perhaps these young women were searching something smarter. And Garland wouldn't be surprised, not in the slightest, he thought to himself. Still, he had his eyes set on Baela, and through Rhaenyra, he had his end of the deal to return.

Alerie herself looked a little weathered, and wore her usual dress, her hair flowing deeper and farther than usual, down to her upper back, lain out from it's bun and knot to a flowing, burgandy-red that sat over the soft material of her dress, puffy over the back and shoulders, revealing Alerie's cleavage at the front as comfortably as she liked it, her young face glowing but with a little wear from the night before. Alerie always found it strange, explaining how she did not have the usual brown or brunette hair of her family's forebears, and many an individual had attributed it to bastardry. There was an answer, however, and it relied in her mother, Elinor Tyrell- her distinct red locks in themselves a product of Ashford, that mirrored themselves in the young Tyrell Lady. Walking across the desk, Garland turned, nodding to his sister. She sighed too, flicking Garland's hair a little, brushing it from around his ear as she always playfully did.
"You're standing. That's good." She said, as Lord Tyrell nodded, smiling a little.

"Yeah, I felt that sitting wasn't doing me any good. I feel far better on sea, whatever in seven hells it was, it's given me a bit of strength. That and some food. I won't be fighting till we're home, but I can at least stop being a fucking cripple." Garland replied, as Alerie chuckled. He wasn't in the best of states, anyone could see that, but he seemed better than before.
"Oh, because you wouldn't want to disappoint the Princess Baela, would you? Oh, Garland. You know, you'll need to save your strength for the bedding." Alerie giggled, as she reached her frame upwards, the ship shaking a little from side to side, the sail flapping in the wind for a moment as the sailors adjusted it. Garland grinned, as he knew she wasn't lying.
"So, you seem to have an idea of what next, then?" She added, as Garland nodded.
"You could say that. The Crakehalls are on the back foot, and whether they like it or not, they're going to do something stupid. I then suggest we take Tyget's throne from his head. Take his head too. Let another minor Crakehall get in, someone like Kevan. Gerald will die for what he did, and I'll have Willas deliver his punishment when the time comes. Their family has no structure, no respect, no honour. They spend their time eating themselves alive, they won't claim Kings. I have a funny feeling Tyget didn't want what happened in King's Landing to happen. He mistrusted someone with an awfully great ordeal, and he lost. Tyget Crakehall wouldn't have done that." Garland said, as Alerie smirked, nodding, as Garland continued.
"I've heard from some of the men sailing upriver that Lord North has started some sort of revolt, he's already began attacking Tumbleton, and areas in the Crownlands, Westerlands and Riverlands from Harrenhal. He has 10,000 men, and while I don't fear his force, if he turns it upon King's Landing, we could have our resolve tested." Garland said, as Alerie cut him off.

"That's why the men of Tarth and the Yunkish are there. No doubt the Stormlanders won't want to do more than patrol the capital, but their captains will want to command. Lord North can be extinguished quickly."
"It worries me, sister. Why on earth Lord North is doing this, as of now. What is it he wants? He's angered Lords everywhere, and he has nothing....well, relatively so." Alerie turned to Garland, seeing the concern on his face, the thought as he spoke.

"I'm not a strategist, Garland. But if I were Lord North, I would see the chaos and use it fully. To create a realm of his own that cannot be contested, and when the conflict subsides, support the Crown or whoever is King, with a force that surrounds the capital. That would include us. He relies on this war to keep him going." She replied, continuing.
"End the war, and he dies out. He could turn to Crakehall for that backing, and likely, that could bolster the war against us. Hence, the men of Tarth and the Yunkish mercenaries can make a mark. Whether Theo or Willas leads the charge, it won't matter. They'll be responsible for that decision once they have their men." 
"I agree....it is disconcerting, but I would imagine Willas can handle that situation. I have no idea how. Wait out until Lord Tully orders Lord North to stand down, or take the fight to the God's Eye. If they are kept as a third party and isolated from the Westermen, they won't be able to consolidate their position. No doubt Tyget will want to do something after this fight, and wheather that means taking his brother to account or attacking our lands first, even the flames couldn't tell you." He added, looking out to the sea beyond, before turning back.

"And what of Aerys, my sister? He's paralytic, comatose. Alive, but we don't know what of him."
"Aerys is a good little boy. He serves exactly what I think we want him to, don't you think? He is the Boy-King, by his birthright! Supported by a noble House of the South, who provides food, armies and his new alliances. Two out of the Seven Kingdoms want him in power for certain, and Dorne will also vouch for Aerys, hence, they shall join this fight on our side or provide at least, backing for his regime. Allegiances are not a fickle thing, not when it is in letters to the Lords, Ladies and Princesses of the Realm. Words may be wind, but reputations are built by people who stand by them. Dorne shall not worry us." Alerie added, smirking, as Garland nodded. The sailors were too busy, too distant.
"You did the right thing there, in the Holdfast. I know it does not feel like it, but we don't need to declare anything more than we already have. Let him carry on being." She added, Garland giving a simple nod, as he wrapped his arm around her side, looking down at her smaller sister.

"I agree.....we've got a lot to do. I just want to go home, and fuck women and drink, Alerie. I want to be under Jehrilla's heaving mass again." Garland and Alerie both laughed, as Garland looked over, sighing a little after it subsided.
"I always dreamed of leading men in those fights, but by the time we get home, this war will be half won, won't it?" He said, as Alerie responded with a simple nod, Garland looking back at the blue seas again.
"Whatever they do, Loras won't be stupid enough to concede our ground. As much as the man is an oaf....any Tyrell is able. They'll hold them back, then we'll throw as many Roses into the Westerlands as we can. It would barely take a couple of months. Now we make them dance for us, sister. Whatever they have left, it will cost them more than their gold." He said, as Alerie chuckled, looking out.
"Someone will figure something cleverer than that out. That's why you still got stabbed when I tried to get us to King's Landing against that force. We may hold all our forces in reserve and have them ready for when we arrive, but if we make a mistake, we will not get a second chance. If I were you, I'd get some more rest. We've still got a few days to sail to the Stepstones." She added, as she turned back towards the hold, heading back in, as Garland followed, using a cane to prop himself a little when he stopped, though it seemed he could now carry his weight, just about, as he headed back towards the steps into their quarters.