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The seagulls screeched as waves slammed against the colossal approaching Ironborn warship, galloping through the waters at a determined pace. The imposing seafaring ship was flanked by a sleeker longship on each side. The aptly named Iron Leviathan led the trio of vessels, as the sun shined brightly upon its blackened wood decks. The wind roared against the towering sails, carrying it across the sea towards the port of Gulltown. The gusts seemed to sing songs of the Drowned God on the day of the tournament. Embroiled on the black sails was the legendary sigil of the Greyjoys, a golden kraken. It seem as if the kraken's eyes were set upon Gulltown as the trio of Ironborn ships approached. Glaring with desire and hunger for glory as the vessels made their approach. For generations the sight of Ironborn ships approaching the coast was a terrifying prospect for the land dwelling denizens, a certain sign of impending pillaging and raiding. This trio came with only peaceful intentions, as the young Lord Eldred Greyjoy, Lord of the Iron Islands gazed upon Gulltown with wonder from his position on the deck aboard the Iron Leviathan. Around him his crewmen walked and worked, lobbying playful insults at each other as they pulled closer to their destination.

"My lord, it appears we're arriving just in time." The familiar voice of Uller Goodbrother stated, the elder Ironborn lord standing firm with a slight smile etched on his weathered features. He wiped the sweat from his thick grey mustache then motioned for the crewmen behind them to slow in their approach. As Eldred turned his head to reply a detachment of the crew scrambled to control the sails, adjusting their approach accordingly. Their boots echoed hard against the sturdy floors of the warship.

"I know, don't you see all the banners flying in the harbor? This tournament is gonna be far grander than I expected it to be." Eldred replied as he tried to hide the nervousness in his words. Apart from the visiting ships from around the realm, there were a multitude of other vessels. Merchants from across the narrow sea, travelers from Essos and who knew wherever else. It was what he dreamed to make Pyke to be like, a center of trade.

"Do you see Lannister red and gold, my lord? Maybe your lion bride is here. Maybe she'll give you a big wet kiss when she sees you." Uller stated, the words followed with a wider smile as he patted Eldred on the shoulder.

"You're hilarious, Uller. The funniest man in the Iron Islands." Eldred smirked, shaking his head slightly. Lord Uller was an old friend of his father's, every hair on his head was greyed but his wit was still sharp. Someone that Eldred had gone to in the past for advice, in addition to being one of the most powerful lords in the Iron Islands under the Greyjoy banner.

"That's not saying much though." Uller added as Eldred moved to the side, raising his arm up towards the Ironborn longship to his left. He met the gaze of his younger sister Ryka, as the proud Ironborn beauty issued a nod in reply. Clad in a clean set of leather armor, the kraken branded on her right breastplate, Ryka looked more fit for battle than socializing. Behind her, the crewmen of Grey Retribution roared as they rowed, pushing through the tides.

Ryka was his heir, headstrong and standoffish but carried that brilliant Ironborn determination. Part of him wished that she would find a potential groom during this tournament. But he would never pressure her, she knew her what her duty was. Eldred almost pitied her future husband, the thought of some stuffy lord having to deal with her never-ending boldness. He never hoped he would end up like that, some fat stuffy lord with only oodles of gold and a reputable family name to back otherwise unwarranted pride. As Eldred walked to the other side of the Iron Leviathan his eyes once more caught side of the approaching Bay of Crabs. It caused him to momentarily pause in his stride as he stared at the momentous mountains in the distance. They had no sights like that in the Iron Islands. He pulled himself away to attend to the other longship where his uncle Harren stood at the helm.

The bald Greyjoy hollered orders to the men of Balon's Fury rowing fiercely behind him, too focused to lock eyes with Eldred. His uncle may have been the toughest man in the family. He was a natural inclusion for their journey across the seas to Gulltown, he knew that Harren would keep the Ironborn in line once they docked. Though Eldred had soundly laid out the law beforehand as a proper lord always did. He didn't need one of his people getting into a brawl and cause a commotion among his fellow lords. A clear mind was necessary for this type of event, even though Eldred did not plan to participate in the jousting. His gameplan today was diplomacy and building friendships. As the Iron Leviathan pulled into the docks Eldred walked from the main deck, followed by Lord Uller.

"Hope you brought your manners today." Eldred stated as his eyes followed some finely dressed noblemen walking across the busy streets of the port. He wasn't nearly as dressed up as they were, Ironborn weren't known for flowing gowns of silk. He wore a simple but eye-pleasing set of dark grey clothes befitting an Ironborn lord, his sword in its sheath on his belt. Uller had opted for a set of armor, as did many of the other Ironborn.

"Always. But you're the one doing the charming today, my lord. I have faith in you, all of the Iron Islands does. You can even use some of my jokes if you want, I know a great one involving a Valeman and a goat." The veteran Ironborn lord stated with a laugh and a nod as the anchor dropped. Eldred was the first man off the ship, flanked by Uller.

"I think I'm good on that end." The young lord said with a laugh as he stood on the docks, having turned once more to the sea. The waves crashed into each other as Eldred took a deep breath, composing himself. He would make his father proud today if the man could see it, he'd make his people even prouder. He was pulled from his moment of self affirmation by a firm hand on his back courtesy of his sister.

"Lets go, you can't spend all day on the docks." Ryka teased, then followed her brother as they left the comfortable confines of their ships behind.

A nondescript sailing vessel tacked its way back and forth, gently cruising in from the open ocean to the protected harbor of Gulltown. She flew the colors of Pentos, worn and beginning to fray, with her wood and sails sun beaten from long stretches spent at sea. A crew numbering five and sixty, the "Cheese Gull" plyed the waves as a regular merchant vessel would. Slow and steady, the small chop lapping against her hull, stood a woman at the helm, hair pulled back and neatly braided, guiding the ship to berth. A small smile plied across her lips, the whites of her teeth barely visible. 'What luck, to stumble across Gulltown at the height of trade season, and it's hosting a festival of some sort.' Her magenta eyes hungrily scanned the numerous vessels already docked, the larger ships moored out farther, taking note of what could be easy prey should that time come.

"Make ready mooring lines, furling crews to the rigging, port and shore leave coming fast." Her voice bellowed out over the cries of passing gulls, the surf, and the creaking of the ship. 'Two months at sea, our holds are full, our food boring, and our purses light. Uncle will be happy to get these lost goods back.' She thought to herself. The helm felt good under her feet, the ships wheel warm againsther hands. A cool breeze played across her face, followed by the scent of cinnamon. Her sister, a radiant beauty, made her way to the helm, taking her place beside the wheel. Aquamarine eyes stared at her, gazing with sisterly love and respect.

"You are quite the mariner sister, I think even better than father... Though best we don't tell him. How long do you plan on staying here? If you don't mind, I'd love to go ashore and eat some real food again, and feel the earth beneath my feet." Her voice was one of warm melodic beauty, silky smooth and tinged with innocent desire. She placed a hand upon her sister's shoulder, awaiting a response.

"Rhae... And remember, use that name when ashore, we'll be here for a few days at least. The ship needs a few repairs, and as I've shown you from our 'trade stops' we need to sell off the cargo. I'll take you around Gulltown, show you the sights and best places to eat." She paused, barking out orders again as the ship gently touched the dock on the far end of the harbor. Satisfied with her work, she turned to Rhae, her elder sister. "Remember as well, I'm called Daella, we hail from Volantis, but live in Pentos. We are sisters, and our father is a simple merchant broker, sending us to Gulltown to sell off a load of consignments." Her tone was serious, but relaxed.

"Rhae, you and I together, we'll have a night out on the town, and enjoy this little adventure away from home. Now let's get our ledgers and manifests together, and prepare for the inspection. I'm in the mood for fried lamb and grilled greens. My treat, as well." 'Daella' smiled, watching her sister 'Rhae' take a spot by the railing, as the final preparations to go ashore were made. Quietly, in thoughts to herself, she spoke what only her and the crew knew. 'Five ships in two months, one close call, and only two small summer squalls. Not bad, for two Exiles. Father would be furious if he ever finds out, but thankfully, he is busy plotting his next move. Rhaenyra and I needed a break from home, two sisters just getting into trouble and having fun. The crew will drink and whore, while I'll eat, drink, and bring home shiny gold for the cause. Dad won't be able to say my name without feeling pride. Baela, my daughter, you are twice the mariner as your brother was...' Smiling, she turned to her sister, and together, they made their way to the docksb and their duties.

Aemon Velaryon

The horse whickered loudly as it crested the hill, light brown hair foaming with sweat after hours of riding. All the same, it broke from its gallop to a steady trot, its rider giving the animal some small time to rest. The rider looked weathered like his horse, travel clothes damp with morning dew and a thick cloak disordered on his back. The garment was mildly overlarge for the rider but they seemed to care little as it helped with the morning chill present in the Vale of Arryn. From his hip swung an arming sword, sheathed, and on the other side he wore a well-wrought hunting horn of ivory. Almost as an afterthought, a bow was strung over his back haphazardly where it swung loosely with its owner's motions. The hood the rider wore was damp with the rest of his clothing cloyingly clung to their hair and forehead. With an annoyed sigh, it was yanked off revealing ruffled silver-blonde hair like spun gold. His eyes flashed a deep violet in the morning sun and his breath wet the cloak before his mouth.

Aemon was peering over the tourney ground less than half a league away. He allowed himself a smile at how close they were now. It seemed mere days ago they would never reach the place, a mirage that existed only in the words of Brus Baratheon and his father. It was for this reason the young squire had ridden his horse so hard this morning. Hearing they were close had spurred rare foolishness in the normally cold boy and he had taken off at a gallop as soon as his duties were done for Brus. It was worth it to finally see the fluttering banners and tents being lifted. The grounds were nearly completed and Aemon could see the lists from where he was on the hill. Looking to the fluttering banners he tried to guess all the sigils he could.

The Old man of Banefort, the tree of Blackwood and stallion of Bracken. The Ninestars of Templeton and the Bells of Strongsong. Many houses great and small were already here... including the two that made his chest squeeze around his lungs and shorten his breath. The golden Kraken of House Greyjoy was hung menacingly over a clustered of black and gold tents. The last time Aemon could remember seeing them was the last day he saw Bloodstone before sailing to Storm's end, but that was not the strongest memory he had of that banner. The other was a more complex response as he peered over the lists and found the Silver Seahorse of House Velaryon, his kinsmen were here. Aemon nervously shifted on his mount as he thought of seeing Lord Aerion or his sons. The troubling thoughts were pushed from his mind as he turned his horse about and began the long trot back to Lord Lyonel's camp.

As he rode back and was quickly overtaken by the thick woods of the Vale he mused on how he had arrived before the rest. At first, he and Brus had been riding with the Royal caravan alongside Lord Lyonel but not long into the ride Lord Lyonel had changed things. In the middle of the night, he had awoken Brus and his squire and invited them to a ride but a quick lad like Aemon quickly realized what was really happening. The night prior a rider in the Green of House Tyrell had arrived to inform the Royal party that the Lady Paramount Alys Tyrell would be joining them. By the time Brus and Aemon had packed Lyonel and his small band of Outriders was departing. They had ridden hard to outpace the Party behind them. The lengths to which Lyonel would dodge the Master of Coin were endlessly amusing to Aemon, Lyonel was practically running from a woman. They had ridden day after day and now it would be perhaps a few days between their arrival and the arrival of the Royal party. Aemon's pace picked up as he heard rough laughter down the road and the familiar sound of Brus Baratheon after a good joke. He smiled as his horse thundered down the road, Brus would be more elated than his squire knowing just how little time there was before he had a lance in his hand.

The air felt... heavy, the young man thought, as he crawled through the underbrush. All around him, the morning fog clung like an oppressive sodden blanket, seeming to choke out any light and warmth the early morning sun sought to bring. Out there, somewhere in the thickets, rivulets, bracken, and other matter of underbrush, slunk the loathsome beasts that had continued to terrorize the Riverlands for decades. Laying on his gut, he notched the heavy barbed bolt into the groove, nestling it firmly against the release mechanism, siting the deadly menace downrange. The beast stood still, nose perked high as it sniffed out some far-off prey, before the oiled clink of metal resounded, followed by the dull thump and snarled tone of a death rattle, then silence. He sighed, exhaling the pent-up breath within, the heated vapor turning to almost a fog in the cool morning air. A small victory, he allowed himself to think, knowing that the dead beast was one of many that continued to haunt the land.

Lord Edmyn Tully broke his mind away from that far flung memory, the moment of reverie replaced with the present. His right hand absently stroked the fur of the beast he’d killed, still soft as the day it had died. The horse below him trotted along the well-maintained road, smoothly making its way on the final leg of a long winding journey to the Grand Birthday Tournament of Lord Robin Arryn. The weather was pleasant, warm yet not oppressive, a thankful lack of humidity that would help alleviate unnecessary perspiration. His clean-shaven face felt a gentle breeze coming off the ocean, a cool caress that brought a content smile. Exhaling softly, he tugged the reins of his horse gently, urging the creature onward with a bit of renewed excitement.

His eyes scanned the numberless banners, both lords large and small, great and mighty, the small and nearly forgotten. Among them were the flowing gold and black of the Greyjoys, the white and blues of the Arryns, the green and brown of the Mudds, the Roses of House Tyrell, the Stag of House Baratheon, and on the banners went. With a tensing of his heels, Lord Edmyn beckoned his horse through wagons, oxen, horses, the throngs of people happily making their way to the ever-growing festivities. Closely followed by his retinue, the Riverlanders made their way further into the settlement, and onwards towards the tournament grounds. Tents and pavilions lined the central trampled dirt road, until Edmyn arrived at an empty area that had been reserved for his retinue.

A perfect spot, near the end, and on the seaward side. Edmyn smiled, before wheeling his horse around once more, turning to head back towards the sea, and dismounted from his horse. His feet impacted the ground lightly, with a small swirl of dust kicking up, before making his way over to look intently at the sea. “It’s been too long since I last lay my eyes upon the endless waters of the Narrow Sea.” Letting out a content sigh, he set about helping his retinue set up their tents and campsite, cooking fires and pits, latrines, tethering lines, a site fit for fifty men and all the gear they could bring to last the duration of the festival. Such actions took the better part of the afternoon, afterwards, Lord Edmyn made his way to the sea, enjoying a refreshing swim to clean the toils of sweat from his body, and to clear his mind for the times to come.
Camp now set, clean fresh clothes upon his back, Edmyn first made his way to the pavilion of his host and first cousin once removed, though often simplified to being uncle due to their age difference. Lord Robin Arryn, a venerable and respectable man, family in the grand scheme of things, though time and territorial disputes had soured their relationships. Hopefully, here and now, these two powerful families could forever bury their animosity and become friends and allies once more. Making his way over to the Arryn campsite, Lord Edmyn made his introductions to the guards, and the steward that was there who was currently overseeing the site. Lord Arryn was not there yet unfortunately, though he would be arriving soon, and he would be informed of Lord Edmyn’s request for an audience and the gifts that Lord Edmyn wished to give to Lord Arryn would be delivered.

“Thank you for your time, kind Ser. I truly appreciate your help, and I look forward to meeting with Lord Arryn when he has arrived and is ready for guests. Send him my warmest regards and wishes, along with this personal gift from my family to his.” Edmyn finished, before handing to the Steward a beautiful and velvety smooth fur blanket, the silken strands glistening brightly in the late afternoon sun, the bold colors of white, brown, gray, and black contrasting to elicit a beautiful sight for all to see. “This blanket was collected from the great wolves that roam the Riverlands, large and fierce. May it keep Lord Arryn warm against the cold and coming winter, and may their strength and ferocity protect him against all those who would dare stand against House Arryn in anger. Seven bless you all, friends. I hope to enjoy a meal and a drink with you all in the company of Lord Robin Arryn.” Satisfied, Lord Edmyn bowed his head respectfully, before turning about face and heading into the greater festival grounds.

Women and man danced and drank, music played loud and boisterously, the very air itself was alive, as Lord Edmyn meandered about the tournament grounds, greeting nobility and small folk alike, partaking in dancing, drinking, eating, and signing all in equal measure, simply enjoying the world for all it had to offer. The light breeze blew through his hair, and caressed his face, while the smells of food, salt, and life whirled all about, exhilarating to say the least. Soon, Lord Edmyn found himself enjoying a kabob, perfectly seared meat and vegetables paired delectably, a smile playing across his face as he listened to one of his knights telling the story of his adventures in the Stepstones, when he spotted a familiar sigil. Laughing aloud, before waving his free arm in the direction of this new face, Lord Edmyn called out in a hearty voice, “SAPPHIRE!!! Mychel Mudd, come hither my friend, join us in drink and food, about time I see another proper Riverlander here. These kabobs are phenomenal.” He chuckled again, smiling brightly at seeing one of his chief vassal’s kin here, a chance to see what Lady Catelyn was up to these days.