[color=gold][b]The River Gate, King's Landing[/b][/color]

Ser Aerion Goldfyre steadied himself as the "Grouchy Seagull" bumped against the docks of King's Landing, jostling the ship about for a few moments, before the harbor men deftly tied the ship up safe and sound. Aerion looked overhead, looking at the massive walls of King's Landing, the Red Keep, and the lands that belonged to his Great Grandfather's family. The tales his mother told him, were no lies. It truly was as large as the bed time stories he'd enthusiastically fall asleep to. His reverie was distracted by the harbor master, who was already present to collect the dock fees.

"That'll be two gold dragons, and not a penny less. You damned merchants always try and cheat your way out of payin, but I will have none of your misgivings and complaints. That's the law here, and the Goldcloaks will enforce it by my word... yah filthy shems." The rough harbor master spoke in an in-grateful tone, and judging by the majority of the docks being occupied by military vessels, and Blackwater Bay jam packed with ships as well, Aerion could see why the man was so gruff. He thought to himself as he fished about for the dock fees, 'The poxy old fool is probably hurting in that he can not swindle as many vessels as he usually does... best to pay him and be on my way.' 

"Two gold dragons, as requested. I apologize for it being in an assortment of coins, but this should suffice Harbor Master." Ser Aerion spoke politely, handing the change over to the older man. "For a few silvers more, could you perhaps be so kind as to direct some weary travelers to a clean inn with good grog and warm food?" He moved six silver stags in his left palm, with a seven playing across the fingers of his right. "My friends and I would be most, most appreciative."

The greedy harbor master's eyes looked hungrily at the coins, going so far as to lick his own lips, perhaps already savoring the wines he would be able to drink with the extra coin. Running his hands through his beard, the man smiled a grimy smile. "Well, since you put it that way, I'd be happy to send you to a decent establishment, one that don't have dog or other unsavory meats being served." He beckoned Aerion closer, and spoke quietly to him. "You warm me heart, no dickering, and then a little gift, well, suffice to say, you'd be safest away from the harbor and River Row, less you fancy a bit of danger. But, I doubt that. There is a royal tourney going on... and far be it from me to keep that bit of information from you." He took a few of the silvers, and then pointed to across the harbor, to the West. 

"Follow the road about the outer walls, it'll be quicker and easier to get to the tourney grounds. Them nobles and lords will be hogging the grounds by the walls, but just beyond their tents, is a cousin of mine. Quarren Hamshanks, best cook in all of King's Landing, and I don't lie about that... the bloody bastard can even out cook them fancy pricks who serve the royals. Piss on them, piss on em all, those cooks and food folks, for Quarren will make you the finest food you'll ever eat. Perhaps that is why he got the spot he did. Serve the lords an ladies, the royals, the rich, and he gets to shame their personal cooks. Ha, I tell you, if I had a son like him, well, I wouldn't need to work ever again." He smiles, his ale intoxicated breath filling the air, "Though... for my name, and a discount from Quarren... well, and even ten would be ever so fine."

Aerion couldn't help but smile. His mother had spoken of King's Landing well. You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. At least the pirates and sellswords of the Stepstones were honest about who they were. They were hard men, who chose hard lives and never took anything for granted. Here though, people hid behind masks and stations, doing what they could to prevent their true colors from spilling out. 

"An even ten stags it shall be... Master...?" Aerion asked questioningly, looking at the Harbor Master for his name. The man greedily took the coins, pocketing them, before turning back to Aerion. "Call me Darren, Darren Shanks. You take care now you fine Ser, and you ever need anything... well, you come to me. I know damn near half the city, and can get you anything you want... and I mean anything, within reason of course. Everything comes with a price." Darren smiled, tipping his straw hat, before sauntering off, counting his money, and no doubt heading for a nearby inn. 

Aerion held up his hand, already sensing the protest from his compatriots. "Not here... remember... we are guests here, even though we've lived here in past lives. Come, lets head to this tourney. We will find out more along the way." Aerion smiled to his friends, and together, the seven men set off to the tourney grounds. Aerion knew what his friends were thinking, they had been fleeced, been robbed, yet, such things to Aerion... and the greater good of the Band of Seven mattered little in grand scheme of their desired goals. He donned his kettle helm, and set forth a brisk pace to the Tourney grounds. What a day to make landfall he surmised, something big was surely going on.

As Aerion made his way about the throngs of people, passing all different colors and cuts of men and women, he learned a great deal of what was transpiring. A royal wedding. A nameday for a new grandchild of the King and Queen, a royal baby. Trade disputes. Taxes... funny with that one, even in peace, no one ever was happy about taxes. Food shortages concerning imported fine Essosi delicacies. A dispute between some houses in Dorne. Pirates, thought that came as no suprise to Aerion, he had spent his entire life in the Stepstones, and they were the only home he knew, and the main stomping ground of the Company of the Cat. Something that caught Aerion's ear was the talk of Black Visenya, said to be a beautiful warrior maiden... a bastard too. How fitting, always such colorful talk about the surprise offspring of nobility. One thing that was common though, was everyone's fear of another war... but who could blame them. The Stepstones and its constant pirate and peasant rebellions, the stirrings in Essos, with New Valyria, the Three Daughters... and who knows when another screaming horde of Dothraki would come... Aerion looked to the sky, seeing the dragons flying about, perching, and generally not caring. 

'Perhaps one day... one day my great grandsire's egg will hatch, and I too could soar aloft with them... carefree, able to just be free, if only for a few moments.' Aerion moved his shield about on his back, before continuing onward, making his way to the Tourney grounds. The king and queen were there, and countless other nobles. Perhaps even the Hand of the King, Lord Tyrion... but his best hopes was to be granted an audience with someone who could help the Band of Seven raise their standing in Westeros, and change the fates of their respective houses. 

Ser Oswell Whent, the unlanded heir to House Whent and their claim to Harrenhal. Oswell had his reservations about ever regaining that castle, but perhaps one of the many smaller castles about it could one day be his. 

Ser Harwin Stong, another claimant to Harrenhal, whose family fled to the Stepstones after losing everything during the Dance of Dragons. He and Ser Oswell were close friends, and both sought to help out the other. 

Lady Lyvia Clegane, the sole remaining heir to House Clegane. She said her mother was Layna, a server in an Ale House that Lord Gregor had stopped in after his loss at a tournament... her mother was the unfortunate victim of a gang rape. She certainly had the look of the Clegane's, and she was almost six feet tall, and was a better fighter than any within the Band of Seven.

The brother and sister of House Lefford. Ser Lorimer and Lady Cerenna Lefford, both seeking to reclaim the Golden Tooth, since its loss during the reconquest of the Westerlands by the Targaryen forces. Their mother and father had died fighting alongside Queen Cersei's forces, and were spared the same fate due to them being in tutelage in Lannisport. Ser Lorimer was deeply protective of his sister, and swore that a thousand hells awaited anyone who would are harm her. Lady Cerenna was kind and gentle, and most importantly, a very skilled healer. She was the reason why all of the Band of Seven were still walking, and able to fight. She saw to their wounds and hurts, and nursed them back to health many a time.

Last was Ser Uther Tattershall, a Stone Dornishman who claimed to be the true claimant of the Prince's Pass and the Tower of Joy. As he said, his family was nearly exterminated, and its survivors fled to the Stepstones, and had lived there ever since. He never lied about anything, and Aerion had no doubts that what he said was true. Ser Uther perhaps had the darkest heart of the seven, having carried the family blood feud for generations, his shield passed down for decades. Upon its back held numerous scratches, each one representing the years that House Tattershall had been forced from home.

The Band of Seven was an interesting lot, but then, who wasn't these days?

[color=gold][b]The Tourney Grounds, Food tent of Quarren Hamshanks, across the clearing from the Targaryen Encampment[/b][/color]

Ser Aerion and his friends sat quietly, eating their food happily. The grouchy Harbor Master hadn't lied, the food was to die for. They all talked quietly, enjoying the company, the festivities, and the warm weather. It was a sunny day, and that alone was something to smile about. Aerion himself looked across the pavilion, across the clearing, to the Targaryen encampment. The tents were numerous and all marvelous. He laughed to himself, thinking of how those tents had probably never traveled farther than King's Landing, and certainly had not seen a battlefield in a long time, if ever. What caught his eye though, was a curious sight indeed, and one that he was accustomed to, but not here in Westeros.

Aerion motioned his friends to the Stepstoners gathering about a rather large tent. Pirates and mercenaries... their lot had been causing a great deal of trouble for the realm. They had taken part in every uprising and rebellion, and no matter how many were killed, they seem to always come back. What reason they'd have to leave their pirate havens, the sheltered coves and caves, the holdfasts and villages that they clung to like fleas on a dog, and brazenly stroll to the royal encampment, well, was beyond anyone in the Band of Seven. They had been fighting this kind of villainy for decades, either through their own deeds, those of their forebears, or the exploits of the Company of the Cat, which had been almost unceasingly under the employ of local lords or the Iron Throne. 

Before Aerion could say 'Roasted Lamb Sauce', a violent fight had broken out. The pirate leader collapsed headless, whilst their band drew their weapons and joined combat with the royal guard of someone important looking. The cry of a man in white armor drew Aerion and his friend to arms, rushing to lay aid to who they now knew to be the King. "To the King!" was bellowed by perhaps none other than a Kingsguard, but that was more than enough for Aerion to answer to.

The fight ended as any would, dead and wounded on both sides. The King stood, unscathed save a scratch or two... or perhaps it was just the blood of the defeated. The pirates and brigands had lost, with most of their number dead, though a few had been saved, perhaps through Aerion and his allies sense of honor, and sensing that these unfortunate fools would certainly have some information. 'Pirates,' Aerion thought, 'Little honor exists among these scum, and they will sell out their own mother to save their skin.' Ser Oswell and Ser Uther had been the unlucky ones this time, and would no doubt have to spend a week or two healing from their new sets of scars. Thank the gods though, that another group of soldiers had been nearby. Freys, by Aerion's guess, had provided a large amount to the defenders of the King, and they fought like hell.

Looking back to the King, and the Kingsguard... Aerion quickly knelt down, taking a knee, and his comrades followed suit. They would be judged by their actions today, and breaching etiquette would do no good. The Band of Seven pointed their blades into the ground, and bent their heads to the King and his retinue. Best to let the King and his guards sort the rest of the situation out, and let him address them first, for they were but knights and two ladies before the King of Westeros. Ser Harwin guarded the three pirates that the Band of Seven captured, having quickly tied their hands behind their backs, before taking a knee as well. Aerion hoped that he had not made a grievous mistake, and awaited the King's judgement.