[b]Ryamsport, The Arbor, Westeros[/b]

Despite the comings and goings of the ships that docked and departed from Ryamsport day in and day out, it was quite a rare sight for the people of The Arbor to see one of the members of House Redwyne preparing to leave their island home. 

Victor Redwyne stood on one of the many wide and well-built wharfs that were permanently set aside for the mooring of House Redwyne’s vessels, his arms folded across his armoured chest: bright, watchful eyes watching the movements of the shore crew who were preparing his father’s vessel for cast-off. Lord Arron Redwyne’s personal ship was a thing of beauty, created roughly ten years ago by some of The Arbor’s finst shipmakers, and maintained each and every year by the very same men who had built it. 

She was a medium-sized galley, with a crew of about forty rowers - fifteen on each side, with ten to man the sails and to take over whenever another rower became tired - and usually carried about twenty to thirty knights and men-at-arms along with it, whenever the ship was setting out in pursuit of pirates or Ironborn Raiders. She was a fast vessel, and could easily keep up with most vessels larger, smaller and equal to herself, especially if there was a strong wind. She was graceful, but that was not to say she was not formidable - there was a massive ram attached to her, and she could easily sink vessels twice her size if she hit them at the right angle and with enough force. Once she’d been a flagship, but no longer - that honour belonged to Victor’s vessel, which had been built for his thirtieth nameday. 

The vessel was bound for King’s Landing, where it would be at harbour until such a time as when Lord Reyne - in company with Emmon Redwyne, his childhood friend and Victor’s younger brother - arrived to board the ship, to make for the tournament at Gulltown. As well as the party from the Westerlands, the Redwynes were also expected to provide transport for their liege lords - the Tyrells - and the other Knights and Ladies of The Reach who intended to travel to the tournament. Arron’s galley would have been more than large enough to accomodate Rory Reyne, Emmon Redwyne and a few retainers, as well as the extended family and court of Lord Leos Tyrell: but with all the other Knights, horses, squires and equipment that were sure to be coming along, a good deal more than one ship would be needed. 

Five other vessels - both larger, smaller and of the same size - but none of them with the grace that Lord Arron’s galley possessed, were also being prepared and provisioned for the short journey to King’s Landing, where they would be able to stock up on supplies again before heading for the tournament at Gullstown. 

It was a fascinating sight to behold: the docks of Ryamsport even more of a hub of activity than usual, as deckhands and labourers scrambled to do the bidding of roaring captains and bo’suns, loading crates of grapes and fresh fruit onto the ships - along, of course, with the necessary and expected wine. Dozens of barrels of red and gold, all from The Arbor’s wineries, were being loaded into the hulls of the ships: where they would reside until the vessels arrived at King’s Landing. Lord Arron was a serious man, and he saw his travel to the Great City as part of his duty to his family and his liege lord; he would not have his men drinking on their way, even if it was a relatively easy journey to make. 

The elderly Lord himself could be seen moving about on the deck of his ship, conferring quietly with his captain - who, by comparison to the men who commanded the other four vessels, was a rather reserved and respectful-looking fellow. The same could be said for the crew of the Lord’s ship - they were handpicked and well behaved, and had been sailing with Arron for years: they were not the same type of sailor as those that manned the other large vessels. Although those men were disciplined, they lacked the class of those who were under Arron’s personal command - and a lack of class was something that he would not tolerate. 

Another twenty minutes passed, with Victor standing by silently - a hand kept on the shoulder of his young daughter, who was watching the activity of the dock with fascination. It was loud - incredibly so - and the Lordling winced every time he heard a sailor bellowing curses at his fellow crewmen. Although they were on their best behaviour, sailors were sailors - and their tongues were hard beasts to tame. “Father,” The little girl began, peering up at the muscular form of her armoured sire, “Why aren’t we going with grandfather?” 

Victor looked down at the girl with a small smile, although inwardly he was seething. “Because he has seen fit for us to stay here - after all, a Redwyne [i]must[/i] remain at The Arbor, and with Emmon and Halmon gone, that falls to me. I would love for you to go with him, my dear, but I’m afraid you must stay with me - he’ll be too busy with other things to keep an eye on you.” He gave her another smile, before falling silent again - the girl allowing him his silence, satisfied (although disappointed) with his answer. 

Soon enough, the ships all announced that they were ready: a blast of a horn at the bo’sun’s command signifying to the commanding vessel - Lord Arron’s ship - that they were ready to depart. About a hundred of The Arbor’s sailors would be leaving that day, and five of their largest ships: along with roughly thirty other knights and men-at-arms, who were to compete in the tourney and help defend the ships in the event of an attack. After all, even though every vessel flew the colours of House Redwyne, some pirates were incredibly bold. 

The elderly Lord - clad in plate-and-mail armour, too weak now for the full plate affair - disembarked from his ship, approaching his son and heir to say his final farewells. He embraced his granddauggter first, murmuring something to the girl - much to her pleasure - and promised to bring her a gift upon his return. Straightening up, he addressed his son, lowering his tone somewhat. 

“I am trusting you with The Arbor, Victor,” He murmured, “I am trusting you with my - with [i]our[/i] home. I hope you will not disappoint me: I [i]know[/i] you will not, and I look forward to my return. Hopefully, we can all be together soon - Halmon, Emmon, Cassilda, you and I. A family reunion. It has been too long.” 

“Of course, father,” Victor smiled, returning his father’s gaze. “I will not let you down.” [i]Although, we could have had a reunion this time - of course, it’s not something that you want. You don’t really trust us.[/i] However, despite the anger he felt at being denied the chance to see his younger brothers, Victor still hoped for his father to be safe and to return swiftly: he had a great amount of affection for the aging man, and respected him immensely. 

The Lord clasped his son’s arm, before moving away - giving a final wave to his granddaughter before climbing back onto his ship and disappearing into his large, roomy cabin. 

The ships cast off with the usual affair - trumpets sounding and men yelling, the sound of the water of The Arbor splashing beneath a hundred oars filling Victor’s ears as the crews began the task of backing out of Ryamsport’s harbour. He stood there with his daughter, watching - waiting. Longing for his chance to head back out into the world again, and to see those whom he missed so dearly.