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    1. Abefroeman 10 yrs ago
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I'm still present and engaged to this. Just been busy with the holidays. If anything, a time skip forward would be interesting. Same characters, but older perhaps? Or their children more so? I like what's going on, like a cold war with all these little flare up conflicts.

@MrDidact I know I have yet to pm you for the Westerlands/Reyne rebels arc, and I will respond to you.

@kingkonrad Poor Amber, the world is just so chess boardy.

All in all, I'm in for the long haul, so my first vote is a time skip/fast forward X amount of years, vote 2 is stay the course, yet perhaps reign in magic, explain it as perhaps the over Abundance has subsided now, with powers now fewer and far between.
@MrDidact El boss man, I will pm you for the Golden Tooth bit. Posted the Aerion portion.

For everyone reading, I do apologize if it appears summary-ish or rambling. I was trying to see things through Aerion's eyes.
The Adventures of Ser Aerion, Lady Lyvia, and company…


Altogether, the voyage took two days to complete. The seas were unseasonably calm, the weather warm but pleasant, which perhaps to the unexperienced eye, would spell good fortune and weather to come. To the experienced, to those who had lived in the Stepstones or plied its waters, knew a harsher truth. This was the calm before the storm, the warm winds upwelling from the Summer Isles and Seas that would mingle with the cold frosty air of up North. Aerion sighed, knowing that it was best to enjoy the calm seas and clear skies before it would all go away for many weeks, if not months to come. Life in the Stepstones was both a blessing and a curse, one that he could never seem to escape it appeared.

As the hours progressed, Ser Aerion spent his time with his remaining companion and the new friends he had made thus far. He shared stories, cooked food, and even sang for them, showing a side that he rarely ever made apparent. Lady Lyvia laughed and clapped, enjoying herself more than she had in many months, seeing the pallor that had hung over Aerion seem to dissipate. Aerion himself made sure to devote his time to getting to know the new members of his circle of friends, speaking at length with ‘Lady’ Layali, even when she would tell him she was no lady, he did his best to show her that the world, while at times dark and unpleasant, it still held much brightness and joy in it. He laughed at he jokes, told his own, and even wrote down his recipe for clam chowder for her, should the day come when she wanted to cook it for herself, or if the Seven blessed her, a family of her own.

Serona Drennys was a person all her own. The two had shared a stint in the Company of the Cat, albeit many years ago. The two possibly had even seen one another without ever realizing it while carrying out their separate duties within the sellsword company. Strikingly beautiful, yes, but it was a piece of her person, the rising sunlight the shimmers atop a deep body of water, hiding the true nature below. She was cold only to those she did not like, yet below that thin veneer of ice atop a lake, smoldered a fiery volcano of personality. Aerion and Lyvia took an instant liking to Serona, seeing her as a kindred spirit, though perhaps a bit rougher about the edges. Aerion himself spent an entire evening enjoying the company of Serona, the two retelling old war stories, songs, and other appropriate things to enjoyably pass the time.

On the last night before the small flotilla of ships was due to sail into the belly of their enemy, Ser Aerion cooked up a small feast for those select few to be invited. Among them were Lady Lyvia, Lady Layali, Captain Serona, Seran of Lys, along with an open invitation being sent out to Lady Visenya and Crown Prince Aemon. The food had been served steaming hot and fresh, freshly caught crab, fish, and even a few eels, somehow a fresh loaf of bread that baffled everyone there, bits of bacon, or at least what tasted like bacon, along with salt, pepper, and some other spices, lastly, was some garlic and lemon added to top it all off. Aerion himself at last, making sure everyone else had eaten their fill before ladling himself what remained in the pot. Last, if anyone did notice, was that Aerion did not partake in drinking with those gathered about him, only dining to have water to wash down his food and quench his thirst.

To Aerion, friends were far more valuable than anything in the world, and he surely hoped that he would be a trustworthy friend in their eyes as well.

Yet, this lull before the true storm soon ended, and as the sun set on the third day, their ships sailed into the maw of the enemy, Blackguard Bay. Aerion himself had scarcely ever seen so many ships before, perhaps ever. This massive pirate fleet, cobbled together from ragtag fishing vessels, longships, war galleons, and anything else that could float, packed the bay tightly, riding the waves gently, sheltered from the turbulent ocean beyond. Aerion and Lyvia stood above deck, looking out over the dark water as their ships passed the enemy fleet at anchor. The two shared and unsettled look between them both, before returning their gaze to the tiny sparkling lights of torches and lanterns that illuminated both ship and shoreline.

If anything went wrong, there would most likely be no escape from this hornet’s nest. It was quite literally a sink or swim situation. Aerion pulled himself away from the ship’s railing, and made his way to the center, where everyone of importance seemed to be gathering. As Aerion and Lyvia looked on and listened, the Crown Prince spoke quietly amongst select members of the loyalists, along with members of his family. He was readying a landing party, a small one that could make their way to the congregating place of the rebel officers and captains, to imbed themselves with the rebels, learn their plans, and hopefully, find a way to foil them. The Crown Prince spoke with those closest to him for a while, before orders were relayed to the rest of the crew.

Prince Rhaegar would remain in command of the two larger war vessels, with most of the loyalists remaining with him. He was to guard the ships, and provide a means of reinforcement should things go south, and a yellow flare being spotted, with a worst case scenario of leaving behind any ashore should red flare be spotted. This was all said while the Crown Prince indicated to a mysterious hooded individual amid the crew. Aerion looked in the person’s direction, guessing whomever they were, they had to be a deadly fighter or perhaps some dark magic user, best to be left to their own devices. The briefing ended shortly thereafter, with command and authority being delegated over to Prince Rhaegar in the Crown Prince’s absence. Aerion sighed, looking to Lyvia, offering her a smile, knowing that the two would be separating for the duration of this mission.

“Lyvia, I’ll see you when I get back. And, if the Seven should decree otherwise, well, I look forward to seeing you in the next life. You know what to do should I fall in battle, though I have a sinking suspicion that I will be owing you a few drinks once I return, and some new stories about what I see.” Aerion spoke lowly to Lyvia, smiling at his longtime friend and ally. The two shared an embrace, and then a clasping of necks with one another’s hands, as the two bowed one another’s heads together, letting their forehead’s touch as the two spoke a low and silent prayer together. Once finished, the two let go of one another, jostling their shoulders, before Aerion set off to report to the Crown Prince.

Lyvia called out after Aerion, speaking in a joking tone, “Does this mean I get to have your boots if you don’t make it back, they are rather nice, and I bet they will fit me nicely. Come back in one piece you blighter, so you can cook some more food for us and sing in your pretty voice. Seven bless you Aerion.” Lyvia waved her last goodbye, before walking off to find something to do.

Aerion reported in to the Crown Prince, stating his desire to join the shore party, in part to see for his own eyes the enemies he would be facing, no doubt some of them former allies in combat, and enemies as well. Second, was that he vouched for Captain Serona Drennys. Should she betray the Crown Prince, or in anyway go back on her word, Aerion knew it was his duty to bring her to justice, and then face punishment from the Crown should they all survive. Last, perhaps a bit selfishly, was that he wanted to fight for his own glory and fame, to earn a just reward when he returned to Westeros in triumph. Too long had he wandered the lands of Essos and the Stepstones, it was time to settle down and start having a family to continue on his line.

Aerion climbed down the rope ladder to the small skiff that awaited the shore party. He placed himself between Captain Serona and Black Visenya, nodding to both, before steeling himself for the worst, such as it was. The final words were said between the royals, and friends, before the skiff pushed off from the larger vessel, and began to make its way ashore. Aerion looked about, seeing the Crown Prince, Prince Aemon, Black Visenya, Captain Serona, a few Maiden’s Men, a few loyalists, and in tow, the shadowed outline of The Eel, the smuggler’s ship carrying the goods bound for the rebels. Hopefully, the Seven were on their side, if not, well, this would be a short night.

Aerion did as he was ordered, ensuring he kept an eye on Serona, not trying to get distracted with her beauty, mind you now, but rather, focusing on her movements, trying to spy any quirks that she perhaps was planning on a most vile betrayal of the loyalists. The skiff and the Eel were both beached and tied up, leaving only the long walk to the rebel’s assembly area, and to finally meet the leader of the rebels. Aerion fell in line with the rest of the shore party, sporting a cruel looking whaling spear, along with a rusty scimitar, having left behind his Valyrian Steel sword in the care of Lyvia. As the party progressed, Serona did the talking and bribing, speeding them past the rebel checkpoints and guards along the path to the real enemy, the rebel leaders.

The party had a few holdups, a key one being a pirate who knew Serona personally, and was giving her grief for being late. Aerion wondered since when did pirates care about punctuality. Yet, Serona was a silver-tongued speaker, and quickly got them through and an escort to boot. The best part was that this pirate captain they had run in to was a talker, and freely spoke of the disposition of the enemy forces, bragging almost, as though he had done it all himself, when the truth was no doubt far from that. The trouble was, this Bill character was revealing just how many pirates, rebels, sellsails, sellswords, and other vile criminal elements had gathered to oppose the Crown and its claim upon the Stepstones. Aerion couldn’t help but laugh mirthlessly inward, reminding of the war of the Nine-penny Kings. This was bad, and no doubt the Crown Prince was realizing it as well.

At long last, the small party reached their destination, and Aerion could do was pray to the Seven that Serona did not betray them, because if she did, they would be well and truly fraked. Renowned pirate captains, famed sellswords, vicious looking mercenaries, and at the center of them all, sat the self-proclaimed Scorpion King, looking meaner and crueler than all the rest put together. Returning his attention to those before him, and primarily Serona and the Crown Prince, Aerion listened on to the unfolding conversation.

The first real surprise was the arrival of a mermaid, and a royal princess of the once mythological creatures, up until now, yet to be honest, after the events at King’s Landing, anything was possible. She was pretty, the stories certainly didn’t lie, but Aerion knew to gaze at such a beautiful woman would invite unnecessary distraction from observing other unfolding events. The Scorpion King had allied himself with the very waters themselves, perhaps in marriage, to seal the deal. After a long moment of gawking, everyone’s attention was returned to the battleplan, which was put forth not by the Scorpion King, but by his right hand, a reviled pirate named Redbeard.

The attack boiled down into two parts. A small diversionary attack, a feint to draw away the bulk of the royal fleet, would commence upon Bloodstone, targeting the key port of Red Harbor. While this attack continued, hinging on whether it drew away the royal fleet, the main bulk of the rebel fleet and marine forces would land and assault Torturer’s Deep. The rebel military would assault the walls, forcing it to capitulate and take high value prisoners as a means of bartering a full withdrawal of all Crown sanctioned forces from the Stepstones. The attack itself would also be supplemented with auxiliary units provided by the Merling King. Aerion could not help but admire the bold audacity of the plan, yet feared that they were not being fully read into the full extent of the diversionary attack. A dark inkling of fear told Aerion that those in the false attack were to be considered expendable by the higher ups.

This feeling was further confirmed to Aerion when the Crown Prince, disguised as Draxos, was assigned to the diversionary attack force. Perhaps it was cynical thinking, but Aerion had a feeling that ‘Draxos’ being assigned to the false attack fleet was not due to the pirates needing a competent leader among them, but because they didn’t trust ‘Draxos’. That was the hinderance of these rebels and pirates, a constant lack of trust amongst one another, and who could blame them, all the times sellsword company’s switched banners. Aerion rolled his eyes and remained silent, watching and taking in everything around him. Eventually, the time for talk was finally done, as the gathered captains and officers grew board of just speaking, of just moving their jaws rather than their sword arms.

The Scorpion King’s right hand nodded in agreement, and issued the order to begin departure and dispersal of the rebel/pirate fleet. Crown Prince Aemon would be taking the Silver Serpent with the diversionary forces, while Captain Serona would be among the main fleet bound to strike a devastating blow against the royal forces in the region. It became clear that they would be splitting up soon, and only the Seven knew what would happen next. Aerion looked at all those around him, from the Crown Prince and his kin, to the others in the group, taking time to remember their faces, should they never be seen again so that he might remember them alive and well. These rebels planned to fight to the bitter end, no matter the cost it would exact upon both sides.

As the gathered crews began to cluster and talk amongst themselves, preparing for their imminent departure, Aerion and the rest were rallied over to Crown Prince Aemon, who in a muffled voice relayed his orders to her and the rest of the party in attendance. Captain Serona was to do as ordered by the Scorpion King, along with having royalist members amongst her crew to keep not only an eye on the rebels, but a close eye on her. Black Visenya would oversee the royalists, while Aemon would do what he could to break away from the diversion forces, warn the royal forces, and then link back up with Serona either immediately before or during the attack on Torturer’s Deep. Aerion volunteered to be part of the royalist forces attached to the Maiden’s Men, feeling duty and honor bound to ensure Captain Serona’s loyalty. He passed word to one of the party heading back to the Silver Serpent to have his sword sent ashore for him, know that it would undoubtedly be needed in the coming days.

As Aerion turned back around, he was greeted with the sight of Serona locking lips with the Crown Prince himself, who couldn’t look more surprised by the sudden gesture. Rolling his eyes, Aerion didn’t bother to listen in to what the two spoke, instead heading back towards the beach and the skiff, to collect his gear and make ready for the coming storm, both above, and in the battles of men. Not to say Aerion was hurt by this gesture, but rather, found it disconcerting, but again, perhaps it was all part of a facade, a part played to lull the rebels into complacency. Aerion waited for the rest of the loyalists to catch up, relaying to them he was collect some gear, and would be remaining with the Maiden’s Men once done. He dutifully bowed before the Crown Prince, wishing him good luck and the blessings of the Seven, before being transferred back to the shoreline with the rest of those assigned to the Maiden’s Men.

As the pirates drank and reveled, Aerion kept to himself, a small fire burning before him as he looked out over the dark waves, smelling the salty ocean air. Across his lap lay Poison, the Valyrian steel sword he had plundered from its previous owner many a year ago. He silently sharpened it, eyeing the burning flames and embers of his campfire. Deep down inside a fierce hunger burned, a desire to bring justice and order to the world around him. He chuckled softly, knowing such a notion was beyond even the wildest delusions of the most devout Sparrow, but still, it was something to work towards, to hope to achieve, even if it were only in a small corner of the world at a time. The sounds of merriment and general tom foolery could be heard off to Aerion’s shoulder, back towards the main encampment.

Yet for Aerion, it was another sound that drew him in, that filled his ears. The stifled tones and voices of sailors, the whispers of drunken man and clever wench, the sigh of forgotten times, all these floated around, but above them all, was the gentle lapping of the water, the splash of waves upon rocks and sand. Out there, Aerion looked on with studious curiosity, swam beings of legend and myth, of family sigils and sculptures, not flesh and blood. The mermaid princess, in all her regal glory, and other attributes, sang a darker tune, a sad tragic melody that warned others of the coming folly. Aerion shook his head, trying to push to unease away from him, focusing back on his fire and sword that he sharpened. These sea creatures could be killed, but that was on land… how much more of an advantage did they have atop the waves, let alone beneath them.

Aerion’s thoughts began to wander again, this time to something entirely different than usual. He thought of the future, not in some vague manner, but in a solid and comprehendible manner. He ran his mind from three people, three ladies, all of whom were different in their own ways, special, unique, yet similar in an intangible way. Lady Amber Redwyne of the Arbor, so young, so innocent, so pure. Hair of auburn and eyes of golden green. Nobility as old as time its self. She was the fourth born child of Lord Redwyne, owner of one of the strongest fleets in Westeros, not to mention a great vintner as well. Such a match would perhaps be very suitable and likely, should Aerion succeed. Then, there was Black Visenya, royal bastard of both House Baratheon and Targaryen. She was rough about the edges, strong, charismatic, a renowned fighter and leader of royal forces. Her dark hair and purple eyes, striking, dramatic, as though from an old painting. She was ever as wild though as her father’s lineage. Proud as well. Aerion laughed at the idea of her holding a babe, being a mother, but shook his head.

Last, was Captain Serona Drennys, a bastard as he, like Visenya, but not of nobility nor of Westeros. She was different, in her own ways, not just her striking blonde hair or blue eyes, no it was more than that. She had a personality of ice atop a lake, when one ventures almost too far out, and the ice cracks and spiderwebs beneath your feet. That feeling of danger, at being on the edge of calamity, and still being alive. She had something deep within, a woman she once knew and was, that had to be hidden away to survive in the chaos that was and still is, the Stepstones. But would she, like Visenya make a good mother, make a good wife? That was when Aerion laughed aloud in purest amusement, a rogue thought popping into his head like a startled pheasant. ‘Why not marry all three, in the fashion of old Valyria. I am the blood of the Dragon, of Valyria, surely it could be done.’ His mind asked aloud, though Aerion, smiling, shook his head and bent back down to his work.

“Such things could probably never happen again. The Faith of the Seven forbids such things, and who am I to be such a fool to grasp for the unreachable. A trodden down sellsword like me will be damned lucky to even earn a stout wooden home with a warm fireplace and good land to farm, let alone those three lovely thoughts.” *Sigh* “The old ways are long since forgotten, lest I risk the wrath of not only the faith, but the gods themselves. Maybe I’m doomed to walk the lands alone, or perhaps fly across them… listen to me, talking aloud like some crazy old coot.” *Sigh* “Well, I guess it could be worse, I am no fool to believe I will be allowed an honor and privilege such as that.” Aerion had spoken aloud to himself, in a pleasant, if almost amused tone. The stray though had such a derailing effect that he had spoken loud enough for any curious onlookers, or a happenstance passerby to overhear his inner musings and perhaps confront Aerion on what he had spoken about.
@MrDidact I am working on my posts, I do apologize for how long it is taking. ((Yey holiday season and longer work hours.)) They are about 30 to 40 % done though. I will have them hopefully done by weekends end.
@Inkarnate I have a sinking feeling that it will be more than a simple dinner date you are roping me into...
@Inkarnate Maybe... I'm not sure yet, and I do not want to hop into another RP unless I can devote the attention it needs. Color me a soft, soft maybe.
@kingkonrad I certainly look forward to it. Hope you are doing well as a sidenote.
@kingkonrad I'm still waiting to see how Lady Amber react's to her letter... unless it was intercepted?
Posted my first of three comrades in arms. This one is all about the small folk and the fun of the Village of Three Corners.
The Village of Three Corners, Dominion of House Slynt, and the peoples there-under.

The Outskirts of Three Corners, the farmlands of Will Steeltrout

“I’ll tell you what, your holiness… The Seven don’t look kindly on men who cheat their neighbors, nor their friends, and certainly not the farmers who help the faith. They also don’t like weak men who cower before someone wearing robes and armor with a seven-pointed star. The deal stands like it was agree upon with your predecessor. Forty bushels of corn, twenty bushels of wheat, twenty bales of hay, ten barrels of beans… you have the damned list in front of you. You know the deal. Septon Ronal, these are fair prices as any you will get, especially with that heretical bitch, that apostate Trout, up in Riverrun stirring up trouble. You agreed to lend help for planting and harvest, I agreed to charge you a fair price for all the goods loaded in these here wagons. Plus, you have safe haven here, should the need arise. Now lets cut the idle chatter. You need better arms and armor for the Warrior’s Sons, such items are not easy to come by. Septon Ronal, you’ll find these wagons much to your liking, but don’t dare ever try to cheat me again. I support the Faith, and the Faith supports the people. Remember that.” Will finished speaking, his tone deep and gravely. He stroked his salt and pepper colored beard, before extending out his hand to shake the septon’s in acceptance of the deal.

Septon Ronal sighed, pursing his lips, before drawing in a sharp, short breath. “Brother William, our staunchest supporter and supplier of goods, I will acquiesce to your terms today, as a sign of our mutual respect for those who see the Seven as the true divines over these lands. All that I ask is perhaps a lower amount could be charged for future transactions, or perhaps some more bartering, labor and perhaps goods for exchanging, rather than Golden Dragons or Silver Stags, let alone Copper Stars. You have the largest farm in these parts, no doubt more help with harvests would undoubtedly benefit the both of us, my brother. Of course, we’d still pay for the ‘misplaced’ arms and armor that seem to sprout from your fields, but hopefully with a slightly more advantageous discount for the defenders of the Faith.” Septon Ronal smiled, his balding head beginning to sweat in the midday heat.

As the farmer and the septon dickered over prices, a few poor fellows and two Warrior’s Sons stood idly by, watching the perimeter for any spying eyes, if some nosey hunter, or perhaps a heathen of the Heretic of Riverrun were about, they’d be ready to depart for the safety of their sept with their charge, Septon Ronal. Will Steeltrout laughed boisterously, slapping the septon on his right shoulder soundly. The two shook hands, smiling at one another as both agreed to a new set of terms. “Fair enough Septon… them merchants, they call it repeat customers, and I won’t turn down good helping hands to tend to me land. Now bugger off, before some devil worshipping heathen sees us all and takes a lark to tell that cunt Tully. Yes yes… language as always Septon. Now I’ve got land to farm, and you’ve got wagons with cargo to move. Blessed by the Seven and their Divine Light.” Will finished, smiling to himself moreso, as he walked away.

Septon Ronal rolled his eyes, smoothing his robes out, before beckoning his militant followers to hitch up their horses to the wagons, and to get going. Will was right, no one wanted to get caught with their business, nor did they hold a fondness for the new religions that had taken root like a weed in a rose garden here in Westeros.

Will watched them all leave, waving to them with a broad smile on his face, before he too set back to his work, trading talk with a few of his field-hands, giving some silver to another to buy some supplies, seed, some pig iron, nails, and so on, for the farm, while giving the rest to a pinch faced man that served as the little farm’s coin counter and stock keeper. He spat a glob of dark spittle out onto the ground, nodding, before hurrying off to a large barn that served as a storage place of many interesting things.

Arthur Blackrose, Gatehouse to the Keep of Three Corners.

The ten or so men-at-arms sat gathered around a table, gambling some loose change over a game of dice. All were smiling and enjoying themselves, because whoever won the most, as custom, bought the first round of drinks, so no one really lost, just got to be the lucky duck of the night amongst his friends. Arthur himself had been the lucky duck three nights in a row a week ago. This week, he had one once, so it wasn’t an overall bad week. He smiled and grinned like a fool as all the rest, trading jabs and jokes with his friends and buddies, enjoying their time in the shade and cool, rather than the light and heat of the outside. Of course, such things don’t always last, when one of the household knights for House Slynt came in, bringing an end to the game.

Ser Morgrin spoke in a bored, dull tone. “Lord Moros wants us to conduct a patrol of his lands. Don’t bother trying to talk your way out of this, we are all tasked in going. Apparently, word has gotten out that the Tully’s are keen on sending their daughter out and about to inspect their lands. Lord Moros doesn’t want any hitches to come of this, and the sooner we get this done, the sooner you can get back to your game. He is calling for all the men save a handful to conduct this patrol, so don’t think your friends in the other two tower houses are getting a pass. You got twenty minutes to fallout into the drill yard. I’d suggest brining something to stay out for the night, knowing our bloody luck.” The knight adjusted his rucksack upon his back, and nodded to the men, before leaving from the door he came in.

Arthur snatched up the dice, and rolled one last time. “Come on, lucky fives… lets go, double fives…” The dice fell atop the table, rolling and bouncing and spinning, before coming to a stop on nine, a three and a six. “Bloody Seven tits…” Arthur cursed, before tossing down a Copper Star. “Well, Smiths, looks like you won this time. Good job.” Arthur spoke warmly, as a blonde haired man, perhaps no more than twenty, collected all the coins on the table. The youth smiled, and spoke out, “Drinks on me once we get back, maybe we’ll find some nice lasses out in the fields. Those farmers just aren’t the men like we are.” Smiths spoke with a wicked grin. The group all laughed aloud as they gathered their assorted gear and whatnot, before they set out to rally up on the drill yard.

Arthur took some melted wax to quickly twirl his full mustache, in part to look more dashing, and in part, because he knew they’d be marching past the battlements where Rae Kestrel tended to Lord Moros’ falcons, and to him, she was quite the looker. He felt a slap across his back, and was rushed out by grinning friends. “Come on you old foolish Reachman, we’ve work to do, no time for you to chase skirts of the lady folk here at home.”

The Slynt Wood’s, A hunter and his quarry.

Renly stepped light as he moved through the underbrush. He’d already taken down two deer, along with a fat turkey and a whole brace of squirrels. Good meat he thought, and a great day of hunting. Lord Slynt and his brothers would be most happy, even if it was a bit of poaching. The land he hunted on technically belonged to some lord in the Crownlands, or was it the Westerlands, or perhaps it was the Reach… either way, he changed it up where he was hunting for game, making sure to bring in fresh meat for the Slynt’s, and they in turn kept a blind eye to his actions, and even payed him for his haul. Of course, should anyone ask, he was a licensed woodsman and gamekeeper for House Slynt, and he was maintaining the animal population to keep the woods pristine.

He was about done with his sweep of the woods, save for checking some bait traps he had tossed into the shallows of the river. Fresh fish and crawdads were always welcome too, and they fetched a nice little price with both the Slynt’s and the local tavern/brothel. Renly smiled to himself, looking forward to a warm bed and a naked body to join his own tonight. If Seven forbid someone was out in these woods with him, well, Renly certainly appeared to not be paying any attention other than to his bait traps in the river shallows.

Lady Calla Silvermane, a luncheon with family.

Calla quietly ate her lunch with her father, Lyman Lannister, while he chatted to her uncle and grandfather. Her two aunts smiled at her, while they sipped their tea and ate some tarts. Calla smiled back at her aunts, before looking back to her father, who seemed to be a bit displeased at what was being told to him by his father. She could only guess as to what was being discussed, and rather than eavesdrop, she turned back to eating a well cooked and seasoned meal of chicken and corn, along with some freshly baked bread with plenty of butter. Still, if there was one thing to enjoy about these monthly family get-together’s, was the food. Her eyes wandered the room in which they were eating, settling upon a family portrait of her father, Lyman, her mother, Tyanna, and a young Calla, without the scars that now adorned her face. She looked away, to a family sigil adorned shield hung on the wall, the roaring lion of House Lannister beautiful as it always was.

Well, it wasn’t truly hers, as her father had never officially legitimized her, but at the end of the day, she was of the proud lineage of House Lannister. It was something in her father’s own inflection that stirred Calla from her daydreaming. She looked to her father and grandfather, both of who stared at her intently, whilst her uncle and aunts politely excused themselves. Calla’s grandfather, Ser Tytos Lannister, spoke first.

“Your father and I have come to a decision regarding your… birth outside of wedlock, as your mother and my son were never married, Calla. Lyman has spoken on your behalf greatly, and it was his choices that leave us here today. As the head of our household branch of the Lannisters, I shall accept your father’s request to legitimize you. Calla Silvermane, if you so choose, here and today, you shall henceforth be recognized by the Westerlands, House Lannister, and the Crown as a Lannister. Just remember what such a prestigious name carries, and how you will have to conduct yourself from now on. You are no longer a bastard, and a noble born lady. You shall act as such. Do you understand what I have said to you, granddaughter?” Tytos spoke in a stern, ponderous tone, as though he himself didn’t really want to be extending the offer of full legitimization to Calla. That having to accept a bastard, a bastard from an Essosi woman no less, was a stain upon his family honor to say the least.

Calla looked to her father, Lyman, who was but a shadow compared to his father. Where his father was all bravado and seasoned soldier, her father was a more skinny and bookish person, but perhaps stronger, in that he had kicked his addiction to milk of the poppy among other things. Still, Lyman looked to his daughter, love in his eyes, mixed with defeat and anger, and mouthed, “It’s your choice… I will always be proud of you.” He then looked away, back to his father, and what Tytos’s reaction would be to Calla’s response.

The Falcon , the Viper, and the Wolf, Keep of Three Corners

Leyla Icefang and Rae Kestrel sat perched atop the battlements, watching the proud men of House Slynt march off in formation to conduct a series of preventative patrols in the area. To keep the people safe and sound, Lord Moros has said, though anyone with a brain between their ears knew it was more for show to the powers that be in the Riverlands, and to make anyone or anything that could cause trouble for the Slynt’s to be scarce for a while. Like the Sparrows that had been seen about of late, though these were unarmed, so, who could say they were really Sparrows. Rae turned to Leyla, after having blown a kiss to the dashing Arthur Blackrose, and spoke softly to her friend and fellow keep dweller.

“Well, seeing as most of the garrison is gone, perhaps we can enjoy some spicy sweet pie that Miss Sunviper bakes?” Rae asked questioningly. Her eyes looked pensively at Leyla, though flickers of mischief danced in the corners.

“Some spicy sweet pie, you say? Well, I suppose I can manage to join you two harlots for a bite to eat, besides, Lord Moros himself has left with his men, and he didn’t need his dogs for some odd reason.” Leyla rolled her eyes, “Probably didn’t want them tearing apart the people that pay protecti… I mean taxes to him. The Sparrows and the Faith, good men, mind you now, seem to be well funded, or Lord Moros needs a new bathhouse.” Leyla finished, smiling gleefully at Rae. “Well, lets go find our friend and pester her to help bake with us.”

Below in the drill yard, Aliandra Sunviper shared a passionate kiss with Ser Danos Slynt, the two tenderly parting one another’s arms as Ser Danos moved to mount his steed. He smiled at Aliandra, blowing her a kiss, taking her hand once more to kiss it, and then calling out as he slowly rode out with the rest of the patrol force. “My Dornish delight, I will return to you as quickly as I can. May the sun keep you warm without my embrace.”

“My noble knight, golden spear with the blood of traitors, I shall eagerly await your return, and promise you this… a warm bed and lover await you. Ride safe.” Aliandra called out to her departing lover, her voice like warm honey poured over a polished shard of amber. She smiled, waving goodbye, until Danos was out of sight. As she turned, she rolled her eyes… seeing her two friends of the Slynt household retinue.

“My, my, what have I here? A freezing puppy and a little lofty chick. Let me guess, you wish for the divine food of my mother’s home, to tease and please your tongue and stomach? Come on you two fools, let us hurry to the kitchen, I am sure that Cookie won’t mind us in the least.”

Together, the three women quickly made their way to the depths of the Keep of Three Corners, to the kitchen for food, drink, and good times.
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