[b]Tower of the Hand[/b]

Mychel Arryn was not a lad wont to blushing when on the receiving end of a compliment, but the underlying combination of sheepishness and pride was there, painted over his grinning features. He composed himself swiftly, unwilling to squander the opportunity to share more of his ideas for an instant, and spoke with confidence.

"The remnants of the Moon Brothers will definitely be willing to accompany us, provided that those among them that I originally dealt with still hold influence over their brothers." He said, reaching for a nearby map of Westeros, small but sufficient for his purpose. He pressed a meaningful finger on the northwestern edge of the Mountains of the Moon. "Their numbers are few now, but the name of their clan still carries a bit of weight. Hopefully enough to give us a modicum of safety in clansmen territory. We can send a raven to them once we arrive at the Vale, and have them meet our entourage on the limits of the Mountain King's heartland."

His finger them moved through the parchment in a southwards direction, towards Strongsong.

"Lord Belmore. He's the best, or worst, kind of idiot, depending on where you stand." He half-muttered, tapping his finger on the map. His hair formed a curtain around his face as he leaned down. "Believes himself to be a brilliant manipulator because he is always doing favors to other lords, thinking that honor binds them to repay him however he desires. He is pretentious and arrogant... kind of like myself... but unlike myself, his arrogance can be very useful."

He rose and turned to Lord Tyrion with a widened grin. "I can ask him to serve as a delegate, and provide men as well. And he will do it simply because it will indebt his future liege to him. So long as he trusts me to repay him, he will be quite reliable."

Combing a finger through his hair, the boy gazed at the map again, blue eyes narrowing for a moment. "And Andrew. Andrew Tollett, Lord of Grey Glen. He's a knight, and has been fighting the clans his entire life... But unlike my kinsman, my dear Ser Harrold, Andrew has grown tired of war. And he is a good, dutiful battle commander... and he despises my father. I often catch him staring at the two of us Arryns now and then, and I can easily see the difference affection in his eyes. He'd follow me and advocate for peace just to irritate the Lord Paramount of the Vale and steal his glorious victory over the Mountain King."

A lone drop of blood suddenly fell from his wrist and onto the map, right on King's Landing, although Mychel saw no meaning in that. He was not superstitious.

"I could write to Lord Royce and Lady Waynwood as well, my lord, but their hands will be tied by their responsibilities to my father. They can't commit the support of the Runestone and Ironoaks while they are tasked with managing my own family's seat and watching over the court." There was disappointment in his voice. Mychel was not prone to concealing such emotions when he spoke, which often earned him no small amount of bewildered, uncomfortable looks from others. "Besides, the logistics of getting them and some of their knights into the clansmen's territory without incident would be a waking nightmare. And neither of them, wise and honorable though they may be, would be very likely to face the clansmen's customs and behavior without incident."

The heir to the Vale nodded twice, a small gesture of self-assurance, and then looked once again at the Hand of the King. His eyes met the other's, and his grin filled once more with prideful enthusiasm.

"I am optimistic, however, Lord Tyrion. Difficult though the mountain clans may be, they are not even close to the greatest threat the Seven Kingdoms, or yourself, have ever faced."

[b]The Vale - Outside of Gulltown[/b]

The voyage had been remarkably smooth, less trying than the journey by land from the Vale to King's Landing, even though Mychel was still far from accustomed to the sea and the lifestyle of those who sailed it. His fellow men of the Vale, and some of the Westermen, had provided him with good company on board the [i]Clever Lion[/i]. His conversations with Lord Tyrion had continued to prove fruitful and encouraging, yet the time spent with the others had also provided him with bonding and learning in their own right. Lord Tyrion's men were quite unlike those from the Vale, but they did not lack for cordiality and interesting things to say. Some were in fact veterans from the days before Lord Tyrion had become Lord Paramount, and spoke with some reservation about their liege's father and uncles. Tywin Lannister's legacy lived on, even if not in the shape he had envisioned, and the more he heard, the more Mychel thought that the man sounded ike an exemplary leader, yet also as a cautionary tale. His mistakes were plain to see, so many years after his death, but their shadow did not entirely dim the brilliance of his achievements.

Tywin Lannister's reach had exceeded his grasp, thought not by much. And Mychel thought he knew better.

The moment Mychel stepped once more onto his homeland's soil was a sobering one, and he felt a tension as he looked upon the path ahead. The Knight Herald had come to bring peace to an old, seemingly never-ending conflict, and though the mountain clansmen were not so great a power in the grand scheme of things, it was hard to fathom lasting, defintive peace as a near possibility. Mychel's earlier optimism faltered somewhat as their retinue advanced. He forced himself to remember an assortment of details about the whole matter, a sorry excuse for a diversion, yet at least a somewhat useful one, even if some of the elements he recalled were frivolous.

When Tyrion began to ask him for information, Mychel's responses came with little of his original confidence, but he spared not a single shred of his knowledge.

"The Moon Brothers don't have an individual leader any longer. Our knights saw to that. What remains is a council of sorts, almost unanimously content with the terms of the peace I made with them. I gave them a small fief with a wooden keep on the edge of House Belmore's lands. They are raiders by nature, so they have been rather lacking in the taking care of the fields, but we have had no incidents with the common folk or any house nearby."

They were the least of their problems, as far as peace was concerned. Their weight among the clans was diminished, and their loyalty to the Arryns meant that the Mountain King did not look kindly upon them, but some clans still respected them enough to not try to slaughter them.

"I sent a raven. If they received it, they are to meet us beyond the Bloody Gate, on the edge of a lake where they are camping. From there, can provide us with safe passage and some protection, and make our offer seem more appealing to the clans least loyal to their king... starting with the Sons of the Tree. Fairly large in numbers, though not the most fearsome among the lot. Their leader, Faeyn, is the bastard son of a clanswoman and a prestigious Lord of the Vale... according to him. He does remind me of one, although he is no less vicious and no less committed to his clan's traditions because of it. The good in that is that he hates the Mountain King with a passion, since young Faeyn sees himself as far more worthy of a throne by virtue of having actual noble blood and, allegedly, a far larger cock. He has never said it outright, but I suspect he only bent the knee for the Mountain King because he had no other clans to rely on if he wanted to usurp his place."

Faeyn was unlikely to pledge loyalty to House Arryn, or even the Targaryens and their dragons, but maybe their loyalty would not be needed once all was said and done.

"Then there's the Milk Snakes. Few in numbers and rather isolated. I spoke to their chief, Tarra, when Lord Royce's knights defeated her and the Moon Brothers while I was a squire. She's old, though not frail just yet, and very fond of the Moon Brothers. The two clans have been allies for decades. When I offered peace to both clans, she refused, but mostly because she was grieving. Some of our knights had murdered and mutilated her youngest son after capturing him, and her other children demanded that she took my head in revenge. She was certainly tempted, specially when the Moon Brothers agreed to yield, but at that time all she could accept was a short truce in exchange for some food and horses."

Unless something unexpected had happened since then, Tarra would probably be willing to reconsider her loyalty to the Mountain King.

"The Redsmiths are going to be the most problematic. The Mountain King shares blood with their leader, who calls himself Bloodstone for some obscure reason. They are a large clan, and a hateful one. The last time I tried to speak with them, it turned out to be an ambush. They wanted to take me as a hostage. Nothing I ever offered to them ever interested them, and I can see why. They are in the line of succession for their king's throne, after all."

Some birds screeched high above them as their horses led them down the winding road.

"It is a blessing that they have a mighty rival in the Black Ears. You know them, Lord Tyrion. When they came back from your wars, their chief, Chella, found herself despised and outnumbered by the Redsmiths and their allies. The Black Ears would have probably been slaughtered had they not returned to the mountains with Lannister gold, weapons and armor. She is still close with the Moon Brothers, and if she remembers you fondly, that might give her another compelling reason to reconsider her loyalty to the Mountain King."