TlalocGame of thrones
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My Cup Runneth Over
STATUS: Friends: You Have No Friends. ... Oh, word, RPG, you didn't have to go that hard. 6 yrs ago
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Edwyn II
Fallow Hill, the Riverlands
Edwyn exhaled, easing himself down into his chair. This was the first time that he felt able to breathe easy in weeks. It was ironic to him, truly, that as a boy he had longed to leave the walls of Fallow Hill behind, but now, as a lord, he felt uncomfortable leaving it behind. It wasn’t necessarily his own safety that he feared for, but the organization of his house and home, and the safety of his family as a whole. He was confident that Ashton, Priscilla and Baldric, together, would have kept things in order in his time away, but he hated having no control whatsoever.
He’d changed from his travel clothing, and now wore a simple leather jerkin over a blue doublet. Having sent Axell to gather Maester Oylen, Ashton, and Ser Baldric, he now had a rare minute to rest and gather his thoughts. It was almost poetic; the longest summer in recorded history was almost over. A decade of peace and prosperity. And it seemed that the winter that loomed on the horizon would be a cruel one. It wasn’t as if he hadn’t prepared for what was to come. His garrison was well-drilled and trained, and his granary was plentiful. But that only meant longevity in war; not victory. Nonetheless, he felt that something had to be done in response to the raids, and his gut said that.
A rhythmic rattle sounded on the door. Two knocks, a beat, and then a third. Edwyn knew at once who requested entrance. ”You may enter, Maester Oylen.”
The old Dornishman slowly pushed the door open, a smile upon his face. In his hand, a closed book. He had likely headed straight over from his quarters having learned of Edwyn’s return. Oylen was a good man, a loyal man, and his happiness to see his lord return was earnest. He was not only a trusted advisor and tutor to the Landry family, but a friend, and he counted himself truly grateful for how the lord and his issue treated him. Not all maesters were afforded such respect.
“My lord,” Oylen spoke. “It is good to see you. Are you in good health?”
”I am, maester. But I cannot say the same for the men and women of the Red Fork.” Edwyn gave a slight, pained smile to Oylen, before reverting the neutral, cold frown that was almost synonymous of him.
Oylen’s smile faded, too. He was well aware of the situation. “Lord Ashton has been working tirelessly to keep things in check whilst you were away, my lord. The boy has excelled, given the situation.”
”I expected no less.” Edwyn nodded. He had raised all of his boys to be good, reliable men. He had hammered the house words and values into them since they were babes. He acknowledged his mediocrity as a loving father, but his harshness had moulded each of them into honourable men. Now, in this time of war, his sons were what the Riverlands needed. ”And where is he now?”
“In a meeting, my lord, with Ser Royce and Ser Baldric,” Maester Oylen stood up straight. “Preparations for what may be to come, I believe.”
Edwyn stroked his greying brown beard as he thought. He was a perfectionist when it came to preparation, and would likely repeat what his son had already addressed in the meeting, but he was happy to hear that the lad had taken his own initiative to tackle the subject, knowing that he could have left it for Edwyn upon his return. He looked back up at the Dornishman, and allowed for a slight smile to grace his face. ”That will be all for now, Maester Oylen.”
“Of course, my lord,” Oylen said, dipping his head respectfully, and departing the room.
It was only seconds later that Axell came bustling through the door, looking flustered and unsure. He looked to Lord Edwyn and spoke, once he had gathered his thoughts. “My lord-”
”Do not fret, Axell.” Edwyn immediately interjected. The boy’s bumbling clumsiness was frustrating to him, at times, but had a certain charm that Edwyn found endearing. ”Maester Oylen has informed me of Ashton’s council.”
Axell looked relieved, but continued nonetheless. “He wishes for you to attend, if you would, my lord.”
Lord Edwyn tilted his head back a little. He looked almost slighted by the request. For his call to be answered in another call was most irregular. But he took it as a message; Ashton truly believed the meeting he was holding was important. So important that the lord himself could wait. So he stood. ”Very well. See to it that some food is prepared for me. After, you may spend your evening how you see fit. We’ll be up early tomorrow.”
“Yes, my lord,” Axell spoke with relief. The last two months had likely been the most exhausting of his life. “Thank you, my lord.” And with that, the boy, too, took his leave.
Edwyn made his way to the meeting room.
“If you are nothing else, you are courageous,” Baldric mumbled to Ashton. “The morale courage to do what is you know is right in your heart, is a rare and precious quality. Your father has taught you well and you have learned from him. For this I am proud of you. Let us see how he responds.” Baldric smiled at the young lord, who was cut short of a reply as the door opened.
There was a shift in the mood of the room as the riverlord entered. He had been the face of this castle and house for sixteen years, and commanded a level of respect that few others could. He wore a neutral expression. Unreadable. First he gave his master-at-arms a nod, ”Ser Baldric,” he spoke with a warmness to his voice. He'd surely catch up without the formalities at a later point. He gave the captain of the guards a similar nod, ”Ser Royce.” And then, Edwyn's gaze fell to his youngest son.
”Ash.” The Lord's voice was unflinching. ”You look in your element.” He peered at the boy, his pale hazel eyes unblinking. It was unapparent if he was about to scold or praise.
Ashton was in the middle of a respectful nod to the Master-At-Arms when the door opened once more. The appearance of his father seemed to have no real impact on Ashton at first, he simply bowed his head and allowed the man to speak. He was never really able to read his father, something that he had tried to copy in his own mannerisms of command, and this time was no different. Ash decided he wouldn’t even try to decipher the facial expressions and body language. He was proud of his decisions and as Ser Baldric said, he would stand by them. ”Father, welcome home. If I am in my element it’s because of your teachings." He was going to go on about the road and how he hoped the travel was to tiring before he stopped himself. ”I was just going over a potential plan to destroy the raiders on our trading routes.” He inclined his head once more and moved away from his chair. It was a silent way of telling Edwyn ‘the seat is once again yours’, and Ashton took the chair directly to the right. Edwyn took a moment, before obliging, taking his place and allowing the meeting to resume.
“The young lord was detailing his plan to strike at the raiders. Lord Ashton believes the raiders scout the traders here,” pointing at a hilly location on the map arrayed between the men. “They then ready themselves to strike. They could not be very large as they tend to strike at the smaller caravans only. Based on the locations they have struck, the young lord believes the raiders base camp is in this general location here,” Baldric pointed the location. “You can see where Ash placed a black circle on the map. Ash had just told the Captain and myself to employ a ruse; have a caravan leave Fallow Hill, running along a similar route as the previous caravans. He suggests we place soldiers in the wagons instead of foodstuff or supplies. The soldiers must remain hidden else they ruin the surprise. The Rangers could position themselves at a distance here,” Baldric pointed at the map. “We would then dispatch riders as though answering a call to banners. The raiders won’t know the difference, but our men will be further down the road here waiting in ambush.” The markings were already on the map displaying Lord Ashton’s plan. “The young lord suggests we use the Landry Lancers to come in from the opposite end. Personally, those smallfolk have proven to be unreliable. I suggest we merely use one of the other troops of cavalry to close the door on the raiders.” Baldric took a sip of wine. “M’lord, it is a viable plan. I recommend we put Ashton’s plan into action. We’ll need to assemble the troops and brief the leadership on their specific roles.”
”Aye…” Edwyn stroked his chin and looked Ashton's way. He had kept his tongue at bay thus far. ”Aye,” he said again, this time more firmly. ”A sound plan, Ash, and a wise suggestion Baldy.” Edwyn stood from his chair, observing the map. ”You will lead this operation, Baldric. I trust no-one else more to ensure it is safely executed. I suggest you take the Rivers boy,” the lord spoke, drawing his finger down on the map. ”He's got a shrewd bowfinger, and can cut the bandits short a couple before they have the situation clocked.” Edwyn nodded to himself, side-glancing Baldy. ”You know the men better than anyone, I trust you can assemble the unit..”
“The Rivers boy,” Baldric murmured. “The best place for me to be is in the Wagons. That way, I can initiate the attack on the raiders. We’ll plan to use a horn to signal the mounted element. How about Edmund lead the cavalry and use that Rivers boy to lead the Rangers in their ambush. He really only needs about fifty or a hundred.” Baldric hesitated a few seconds and then made another suggestion. “Would it be acceptable if I took Ashton in the wagon with me? It is his plan. Maybe he could see it happen.”
Lord Edwyn mulled over his thoughts. ”I’m not so sure about the wagon.” Edwyn shook his head slightly. ”But he could do with the experience. I'd allow for him to observe the ambush from the rear… accompanied by Ser Tristifer.” Edwyn didn't want to cushion the boy. But Lady Priscilla would never allow for him to accompany the vanguard - and even though Edwyn's word was final, the lady of the house was unflinching if met in disagreement. ”See to it that he is well guarded.”
”Father, I only ask that you prepare me for the war to come, because with the tension in the Kingdoms, I think even I know that war is certain. Within the wagons I’ll be in the safest place in the entire attack, as even in the rear I’m a target for retreating bandits or ones we didn’t see. A stray arrow…” He trailed off and shrugs, ”but within the van I’ll be surrounded by our own men and between the surprise and the double flank, I’ll be in no true danger while gaining more experience.” He nodded his head as he finished, letting his father know that in the end he was the last call in the matter.
”You’ve already asked a lot of me today, Ashton,” Edwyn spoke sternly. ”And I'd expect you to respect my judgement..” He peered at the boy, eyes glinting. ”But… I will allow for you to accompany the men. Again, under Ser Tristifer's keen eye. You are to follow Ser Baldric's every instruction.” Edwyn tapped his finger upon the table. ”There are squires who have seen war at your age from Winterfell to Oldtown. I will allow for you to learn. But you are to stay at Ser Tristifer's side, you understand?”
”I only ask of you what you have come to expect from me father. You taught me.” He smiled a bit but backed off, knowing that he was pushing his luck this day. ”I won’t be a problem, I promise.” He glanced back over to Baldric and had enough tact to keep his face clear again.
Baldric looked at the boy with a stern face. He was measuring the man for what he was worth more than anything else. For it is times like this when boys become men. He will either shine or cower and it is not in him to cower. “M’lord, it is a wise notion to place the boy with Paege. Ser Tristifer will take good care of the lad. I’ll keep an eye out for him when I see him as well.” Baldric was more concerned with the bastard, Rivers. “What about Robert Rivers? Do you think he can handle the Rangers? Be at the right place at the right time?”
”I can vouch for the lad.” Edwyn spoke with certainty. ”He’s loyal, and a better aim than any of us with a bow.” He looked to Ashton. ”You certain you're ready, boy?” He spoke with compassion, but the look in his eyes was clear; he would be disappointed with any answer that was not 'yes’.
”Yes father, I’m ready.” He truly was, ever since he put a sword in his own hand and went to Ser Baldric for tutoring. He developed a style that was entirely his own and formed it to his strengths and to cover his weaknesses. Beyond that he would need the experience if war broke out, and it was better to do it against bandits instead of an opposing House’s standing army. ”Will Axell be coming as well?” He and the Deddings lad had promised to be beside each other in the first battle, but while he assumed Edwyn would be going. He wasn’t entirely sure, and if Edwyn didn’t go, Axell may not either.
”This is your operation, Ashton. I will remain in Fallow Hill. I have plenty of matters to attend to.” Edwyn looked at the boy. He was certain that Ash could hold his own on the battlefield. But Axell? Not so much. He stroked his beard oncemore. ”Ser Royce. Do you believe your son is ready for potential combat?”
Ser Dedding puffed up his chest as he stood. He looked Edwyn in the eyes and responded with certainty, “I have no doubt in my mind that your squire, my son would do well on Lord Ashton’s raid. If it is consent you are looking for, you have it. You don’t need it, you can use him as you see fit, but you have it either way. I’m sure he will enjoy this outing.”
“Very well. He shall squire for Ser Baldric in my stead.” Edwyn decided vocally. Ser Baldric nodded in affirmation. ”Ashton, I will find some time tomorrow morning to get better caught up on things with you. You must've had a long few months,” Edwyn continued, as he adjusted his place in the chair. ”I think it's only fair you have an evening to relax yourself. Is there anything that can't wait?” Edwyn exhaled. The trip had been exhausting. The coming weeks would be rigorous, and, tonight, he wished to bathe and to eat a good meal.
”Would you like me to speak to Edmund about it, or leave it until tomorrow? Other than that question I have nothing further. I’m sure Maester Oylen will have pages and pages of notes to go over with you on everything else.” He gave a chuckle at that and stood from chair, bowing slightly in respect to his father. ”Thank you for your time Father, and I’m truly glad to have you back.” He stood until he was dismissed and a rush of excitement ran through him as everything was decided. He made a mental note to get with Axell later on as well, they would finally be entering their first battle! Then again, he supposed Axell sort of already have a smaller engagement near Pinkmaiden, though he didn’t know the specifics.
”Aye. Perhaps leave Edmund to have a night of leisure. He's had plenty on his plate these last few weeks. But I want things set in motion for the ambush immediately.” Edwyn stood from his chair. ”Ser Baldric. Ser Royce. Ashton. Thank you for your time. I trust you will execute this operation cleanly without my supervision.” He cleared his throat, placing his hand, straight, on Ashton's shoulder, his face still stony cold. ”Well done, son.” And with that, he made his leave.
Gladly, when he arrived at his desk in his personal study, dinner was not yet cold.
Me proof reading my posts...
Well thanks! :) I’m glad haha
Np!
But if you ever make a bad post, I have just the gif....
‘Her smile still playing mischievously at the edge of her lips.’
Playing would make it present.
Tbh it’s good feedback. Though may be getting flashbacks from my English lit A level 😂
The way I see it is.. as long as I can read it immediately and it flows well, I'm not too fussed. If it's incorrect to the point where I have to read it back to understand it, then it needs fixing. But yours was nice and cohesive when I read it. :)
I may have done that a couple of times in my post..maybe
I ain't see nothin 🤫
I seem to recall a conversation in the Interest Check thread about whether the RP should be Casual or Advanced. So far, I have only see Advanced level writing. This RP could have gone in either section with no worries whatsoever. The only thing I would suggest is keep your tenses the same outside of quotes. Should be third person past tense always; never present tense.
Have to say I'm thrilled with the posts so far!
Edwyn I
Fallow Hill, the Riverlands
It was a fine summer afternoon, with minimal clouds in the sky.
Edwyn slowed his destrier into a canter as Fallow Hill's formidable shape drew closer into view. It had been three months and nine days since he had last seen it's great grey turrets - too long, for his liking. But home he was, with only a single road that cut through the vast golden fields separating him from the castle's gates. He had missed Fallow Hill. King's Landing stank of piss, and was full of far too many people Edwyn cared not for; and Pinkmaiden... well, Pinkmaiden had a terribly macabre atmosphere following the death of Ser Derrick Piper, and, given recent events, was not a particularly safe place to be with only a handful of men.
Edmund, Edwyn's secondborn son, rode a black destrier to his left, and to his right, Edwyn's squire Axell rode a small brown steed. The three had gone ahead, eager to reach home, confident in their safety on the road. Ser Tristifer, head of Edwyn's personal guard, had stayed behind with the wagon, ten fighting men beside him - two less than the twelve that had left the castle three months ago. It had been a tumultuous time, one that Edwyn had not truly prepared for. He had set out for King's Landing for the Hand's tourney simply to keep up appearances and support his son, but, as was his luck, a funeral and a potential war came thereafter.
Ser Gregor Clegane had been the one to unhorse Edmund from the tourney, but not without a fight, with several lances breaking in the joust. The tourney ended with Ser Gregor furiously slaughtering his own horse, and Ser Loras Tyrell conceding to Sandor Clegane. Entertaining, if nothing else, and Edwyn was proud of his lad for giving the Mountain a fair match; something most men would not even dare attempt. The festivities didn't appeal much to Edwyn outside of that, however, and he had itched to ride back north as soon as he had the chance. But news then came of the death of Ser Derrick, husband to Edwyn's sister, Maya, and plans changed.
The retinue made for Pinkmaiden, and Edwyn sought to console his dear sister. Maya had a boy of only two, named Artos, and Derrick's death came as a sudden, shaking surprise. Illness that led to pneumonia, apparently. The funeral came the week after. The group remained in Pinkmaiden for a short while, and it was there they learned of Tyrion Lannister's capture, which subsequently led to Ser Gregor Clegane's arrival in the Riverlands, where he and his men tore through several settlements.
Edwyn and his men had assisted in repelling the raiders from nearby Pinkmaiden, and it was there they lost two men. Good men. But their lives meant that the invaders were curbed, and Pinkmaiden was safe. By the time the dead were buried, the riverlords had already been called to Riverrun to respond to the raids. Edwyn had been eager for Maya to journey with his retinue, but she was mother to a Piper boy, and her place was in Pinkmaiden, so Lord Edwyn marched up the red fork without her. The stay in Riverrun was brief. More of a passing, really, as it was quickly decided by Lord Hoster that no formal call to war was yet necessary. And so, Edwyn marched east.
As the three horsed men turned the corner to face the southern gate of the castle, another rider converged beside them. Edwyn snapped out of thought. Ariella, Edwyn's eldest child and only daughter, now rode beside them. The riverlord smiled her way as she approached.
“The two of you are a welcome sight!” Ariella greeted her father and brother cheerfully, maneuvering around Axell to match pace and leaning forward on Thunder to get a glimpse of Edmund. Quickly, though, her smile changed to an expression of concern, made all the more apparent by the ghosts of dark circles that seemed ever-present under her eyes. “I noticed you were short a few men with the wagon. Did we lose them in the lists?”
"No, we lost them defending Aunt Maya's home." Edmund was very blunt in his speech, getting the first taste of war sat bitterly in his gut. He didn't elaborate on why their aunt's home was under attack, just that it was.
Ariella’s hand flew up to her mouth and she gasped; a pit formed in her stomach, first from shock, and then from realization. She knew Ashton had been hiding something from her! He must have gotten a raven and not told her. “Are the two of you alright? Was anyone else lost? Who would attack Pinkmaiden?” A familiar worry set in, etching into her features.
”Raiders. Westermen. Sent by Tywin Lannister, it is believed,” Edwin replied calmly. It was not odd for him to seem so unphased by such a troublesome situation. He was always one to deal with things first, and worry later. ”It’s safe, for now, and Aunt Maya and Artos are well protected.”
"Lift the gate!" had been called by one of the gatesmen, and so it rose before them. Redemption settled into a trot as she passed under the gate, Edwyn guiding her to the stable.
”You needn’t worry about it, Ariella,” the lord said as he dismounted from his steed. His words felt half-true, and it seemed almost as if he deflected the topic out of consideration for his daughter’s worries. ”How is your mother? And Ashton?”
Ariella’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t press further; she could tell when her father was avoiding something. Making a mental note to speak to him later if she could get him alone, she went along with the change of subject.
“Ashton has taken the mantle of the face of House Landry in great stride,” she reported, leaving out that the duty he’d taken on - more than he likely needed to, given her mother and Ser Baldric’s work keeping everything running - seemed to be taking a toll on him. “And Mother is… Mother.” She chuckled a little then, eager to get to happier topics, even if she still seemed a little uneasy. “How was the tourney? Ed, I heard you did well in the lists.”
The change in topic was a relief to Edmund, perhaps he just need some rest to get the last few weeks out of his mind. "I did well enough. Won a couple and even knocked Ser Symon Haigh of his horse." Edmund was a little smug mentioning that. "I was defeated by Ser Gregor Clegane, the Mountain. Broke a few but in the end he was too much." He left out how bad he was hurting after the match and the death of Ser Hugh of the Vale.
Ariella couldn't help but smirk at the image of Symon flailing off his horse; he probably threw a fit, too. Her eyebrows shot up, however, at the mention of Ser Gregor. Her first instinct was to scold her brother for taking such a risk, but she reminded herself that such courage was fitting for a young knight. She just wished he wouldn't be foolish with it.
“An accomplishment indeed,” she conceded, knowing a comment to Edmund about keeping his wits about him would probably be ill-received. “To walk away from that match, anyway. I would have liked to see it.” She offered her brother a coy grin. “Of course, I also would have loved to see Ser Symon face-down in the mud.”
"Knocking him down in person and in front of the king no less made it even sweeter." Edmund mused a chuckle when he thought of Symon nearly crapping himself in front of half the realm.
Ariella laughed, a genuine, musical sound that had grown a little more rare over the past two years. She followed her father into the stables, dismounting with a few gentle words to Thunder before she let the stablehand take him away. “Lord Walker must have been absolutely red in the face,” she mused, picturing the old fool’s expression watching his son unhorsed by none other than a Landry. “I hope the sight sticks in his mind.”
”Now, now, you two,” Edwyn allowed a wry smile to grace his face, but shook his head. ”Lord Walker is a riverlord. Regardless of what we think of him, we still owe him respect; and Ser Symon is a fine knight. It is a testament to Ed’s skill to dehorse him.” The statement was more a lesson in subtlety than actual fact. Ser Symon was a mediocre knight at best, and Lord Walker, a hateful prick of a man. But Edwyn wished for his family to set a better example than their rivals to the north. "Anyhow, Ariella, would you alert your mother of our return?"
Ariella knew her manners well, but she was eager for something uplifting to take her mind off of things, and the image of Symon at the end of a lance was as good as any. At her father’s request, her smile changed a touch, near-invisible to anyone but those who knew her well, looking a little more painted-on than before. “Of course, father,” she replied dutifully, offering a curt dip of the head and a half curtsy as she made her way between the men. “Do try to rest a little,” she added to both of them before leaving, “You both have come a long way, surely whatever needs to be done can wait until tomorrow.”
Edwyn gave his daughter a reassuring nod as she departed, but he would continue regardless. It was not in his nature to rest when there was work to be done. "Axell, tell Ashton, Maester Oylen and Ser Baldric that I must speak with them in my chambers, there's a good lad," Edwyn instructed, as he turned to face his squire, giving the ginger lad a hefty pat on the back. Axell dipped his head affirmatively and scuttled off. Edwyn glanced back to his second son. The lad had grown up a lot in the past year, especially in the months just gone. "Go and get some rest, Ed. You've earned it."
"I will be having a drink in the hall if you need me." Edmund left his conversation with his father at that, knowing full well saying anything else would've been wasted breath. Edwyn simply gave a slight nod and turned, making his way towards his quarters in the keep.
^
Posting Edmunds and Ashtons now too
Posting Edmunds and Ashtons now too
WAKENING
CHAPTER I: FIRST TO WAKE
-summary here later-
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