[h1][b][color=FFD700][center]King's Landing[/center][/color][/b][/h1]

[center][img]http://i.kinja-img.com/gawker-media/image/upload/gbbysl9gvyru6dk6rkhd.jpg[/img][/center]

Willas looked down at the boy, shaking his head. The night was still strong in King's Landing, the morning light barely breaking, broken by the one or two fires, not from furnaces, that burned outside.
"I hope you were right, Alerie." Oathbreaking was not unknown to Willas. The other men who knew Willas broke an oath to the King, were dead, all of them. All apart from Florent, but he was no longer in the capital, after he had been taken off of the Kingsguard, unfit to guard the King Aerys due to his missing leg. 

The situation had not improved, by any measurable margin, in King's Landing. Whilst Theo Stanton was the provisional Castellan, he was under a mountain of paperwork, or on the streets having to deal with people rioting, looting and begging. Food had been restored, but the city had to be retaken, block by block. They were unruly, and the Reachmen inside, Owain Footly and others included, had their hands busy, trying to quell and keep the peace. The walls did stand, they were burnt, but they stood, and the gates had been repaired once more, albeit not to the standard that they had been before. Even so, it did not have gaps, and any attacker was going to still struggle if they wanted to get in. They wouldn't withstand a siege, everybody knew that, it would be days before the city ate itself alive, right now, it was barely ticking over.

And so, with that in mind, Ser Willas Tyrell, the last Kingsguard left alive and in short, it's de jure Commander by default, or at least, so he had to now see it, was now doing what he did for family. He had betrayed the Kingsguard once, when he stayed in the capital, while the others flocked to Aerys. And he knew that people were honor, duty bound to serve their Kings, to do the right thing, which was always what their King commanded. That was the oath he had taken, and whilst he had fulfilled his duty to the King, he had failed. Royce had let him go, told him it was fine, Willas remembered. Yet here he was, doing it again. He was dead, as was Dayne, Florent, Footly, all of them, gone. Duty bound, he had to protect the boy King, for everything.

Yet he was mad.

The young boy was the promised one, yet looking at the promised one now felt disgusting, it felt unnerving. Worst of all, it felt like it wasn't right at all. Fuck honor. Family mattered.

Alerie's letter had said it best, what was to be done with Aerys, so as to keep suspicion minimal. And right now, Willas was untouched, unstopped in what his actions were to be. Nobody would tell him what to do, or to stop. The Tyrell Retinue, the 20 men he had trusted in King's Landing the most, weren't even in on it, well, not their entirety. Ser Maxwell, the Commander of the Gold Cloaks, with him in the moment that they killed Darren Celtigar and bloodied the cloak, was the only other man who entirely understood what was going on. This was for the greater good of the Realm, for Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen. Willas knew she was a good woman, and felt idiotic, moronic not to accept that when it was there. Now, they would undo the mistakes of the past. And wash it away in blood and flowers.

Looking over at the golden soldier at the other end of the room, the Tyrell nodded, looking back. He took no pleasure in this, but knew it was to be done. Ser Maxwell walked over, and took Aerys's legs, as Willas took his body, picking it up, and slowly dropping it into the casket. The oak casket was shut with a lock, as Willas looked to the other man that came into the Maester's room, dark skinned, the look on his face one of a grin, not of a somber mood to what was going on.
"King's Cock." He simply said, as he walked up to the casket, patting it.

"Where I come from, this is something you would pay hundreds of gold dragons for. Let alone the rest of him. His heart, his eyes, his balls, his fingers. You can perform such magic with it, don't you know?" The figure said, wearing a brown cloak, a golden tooth in his mouth, a piercing around his nose. It was difficult to tell where he was from, but Slaver's Bay wouldn't have been a bad guess. What he did, well, you didn't want to know. Alerie appeared to have poked fingers at the right people in Queenstone, and sent him to Willas, that, and a bunch of other instructions. The Knight thought he was a pretty awful human being, but none the less, he was a good tool for the job.

"I didn't. But I hope whoever has the fortune to buy finds a use for them." Willas was cold in his reply, as they took the box, picking it up, lugging it out of the room. It was heavy, it was like carrying a coffin, precisely because it was, to Willas. The robed figure would take it far away, the simple payment being that it was to never return to Westeros or be seen living in Essos, ever again. King Aerys was to be cut to pieces, drowned, taken apart. Willas didn't care, his heart hurt knowing what he did was bad, and he knew it entirely. It was malvolent, evil. But it was a needed act to help the family. And nobody would stop him. The boy was pretty much dead, so he wouldn't feel the pain of being plucked apart, as one of the robed figure's guards followed him, taking the box from Willas and Maxwell, carrying it forwards and out of the Holdfast. He was going to the port, and would never be seen again. Willas knew that this wasn't entirely it, however. The plan was not complete to Alerie's instruction.

-------------------

The boy had been found in the hovels of Flea Bottom, a street urchin, one that would do the job rather nicely. Willas, aware of his role in this conspiracy, had dealt with it himself, alongside Ser Maxwell. It hadn't taken long to have him carted back into the Red Keep, and on the same table Aerys had been lying on.

He wore Aerys's clothes, and over his eyes, lay purple glass eyes, his eyeballs beneath rotted away, his hair dyed white, so much so that it looked the same platinum blonde as Aerys's hair had been. He looked about the same size and age, and while he didn't look perfectly alike, it was enough to give the impression away. Few had actually seen his face proper, and only the most knowledgeable would understand that this wasn't Aerys, but some poor bastard child in his clothes.

He even had repeated sharp knock that he had taken in the side of the head, a blow from the side of Willas's poleaxe handle, which had killed him almost instantly, the boy that is, not Aerys. And now, he was here, dead. Soon, the news would leak out, and Willas would know what would happen next. He had letters written to other Knights of the Realm, some still neutral, some not abiding by the call to arms that Aerys should have recieved, others from home. Cathryn Tully, amongst others, her in particular Willas remembered as being mentioned to him as one of the greatest soldiers of the Riverlands, still unmarried, and against usual traditions, willing to be a Knight of the Kingsguard. Perhaps a female ruler would appreciate the gesture, he thought to himself. He left the room, shutting the door, looking over as the Maester walked along the corridor, only walking by. He would know what would have happened. But if he were to speak, he'd have his throat out. And Willas knew that he knew it full well. This was for good reason, the right reason. The only reason that mattered to the whole of the Seven Kingdoms.

------------------

([@bluetommy2] collab)

[center][h1][b][color=FFD700][center]Highgarden[/center][/color][/b][/h1][/center]

[center][img]http://orig13.deviantart.net/beda/f/2013/069/9/e/highgarden_by_feliche-d5xl5dv.jpg[/img][/center]


The white castle stood amongst the late summer, the evening breze gentle, as it came in from time to time, the distant sun going down amongst a nice haze of clouds. A gentle steam rolled off the trees of the Rosewood, the castle's innards working as they usually did. Right here, it didn't seem like there was a war on, and in the city that surrounded Highgarden, the same could be noted, that trade was as usual, to the lands beyond. Even with the threat of the resurgent Ironborn, the fields were a beautiful golden brown and green, following the collection of the harvest. 

Within the council room, Lyanna, Loras, Belgrave and Ser Alesander, the Master of Arms's right hand man, were sat, and this was a council of most urgency. The situation had changed from when the initial rallying call had been put out by Loras, and it seemed even the oafish Hightower did now fully understand the gravity of this situation. He sat up, the Lord Hightower wearing a cloth and leather jerkin, looking across at the others, as he sipped down some more Arbor.

The whole situation in Highgarden was clear, what they knew was rather clear cut, rather simple. The Ravens had arrived back, and it was clear, Garland and Alerie were alive, the capital was secure, and whilst the walls had taken a battering, the sandstone in places melted by dragonfire, the capital retained it's position under Tyrell and Crown control. That was good enough news for the Tyrells to get, that it could be developed from there, in regards to what would go on next. Garland was in the Stepstones, and Alerie was headed home, it appeared. Rickard had arrived at the Citadel, and the army of the Reach was mostly encamped outside of the white walls, green and gold banners flying high.

Belgrave, at least, seemed displeased with the atmosphere, he had fought hard for his personal guards to be brought into the room, but after their behavior the last time, it seemed unlikely now for them ever to get let back in, he had also asked for one of his cousins to be allowed in, not even Bryce Tarly's clout could allow the man in, considering Lyanna's stern and unwielding attitude, he had managed to get his squire, Big Bryce, into the room, if only to aid the man in getting out of his armor, which he had donned as a result of a deserter assault. He still seemed over-dressed out of his armor, and he was the only seated person with a blade off his hip, Heartsbane hanging over his back simply for transport, as no knight worth a dragon would walk into a battle like that.

"So, the reports are to be believed? He has 50,000 men?" Loras asked, as Alesander nodded, looking across at Belgrave, the shining Valyrian Steel on his back reminding the Knight that he was in the presence of a blade that wielded respect to it's user, no matter what, someone who would be far more knowledgable. Still, he had to let the table know, knowing it was to be discussed.

"Indeed, they feigned a move on our borders. They're going down the Gold Road, the only way to King's Landing from Casterly Lock, my Lord. They know we have our forces bolstered and are fresher than theirs, so Tyget could have panicked. He wants to act now." Alesander simply replied, as Lyanna looked over, the look on the Reachwoman's face stern, her wisened look acutely aware as to what it meant.

"Of course they did, you fool. I could have told you that." Her barb was sharp, as she shook her head, looking at the map of of the land that was placed on the large table, of southern Westeros in a relatively accurate entirety.

"They are going to take what is theirs, and not stop until they have it. You haven't clearly been listening to me. We are going to repeat the same mistake again, unless we do something with what we have. We have more men, who are more fresh than them. So what is stopping us?" Lyanna simply added, as she gently drank a little mead, Lady Tyrell clearly set.

"Nothing. You're going to let them walk into a burnt city and fortify. Seven Hells." She was firm, as she sighed a little.

Belgrave scratched at his beard a moment, letting out a tittering with his tongue.

"They'd be daft as a rat to fortify a burned city, they're doing this for the throne, they're set to have Tyget sit the bloody thing and then leave with a crown, drum up more support. If they do mean to fortify, then they'd better hope that they have the manpower to rebuild a bloody city in a week or so." He tittered once and placed a thumb under his chin.

"Of course, I'm no strategist, Tyget probably knows better than I ever could."

Loras looked across, as he nodded, looking at the map.
"Willas is still there." He simply said, as he looked at King's Landing on the map, painted in a particular way on the large parchement roll.
"Family, friends, and King Aerys, I'd imagine that they won't last long if the Crakehalls make it there. They won't fortify it in time, even the Crakehall gold won't make miracles happen. But we have had many already, so we can't write them off." Loras simply said, as Lyanna nodded in agreement, Loras able to at least put the gravity across when he had to, as she looked at the map.

"I'm not a strategist, no military planner, I do not concern myself with war. But with an army such as Tyget's, is it possible to stop him making it to King's Landing by force, Lord Tarly?" Lyanna simply asked Belgrave, looking across at him, a little more on his level than she felt like she could sometimes be on Loras'.

Belgrave scratched at his beard a moment.
"We do have ten thousand more men than he, but I wouldn't get comfortable," he turned to his squire, who handed him a small knife. Belgrave pushed the tip against his thumb and rotated it a while.

"Tyget Crakehall defeated the Ironborn in one smooth motion, I would say that takes an expert in tactical matters, especially considering his fleet was outnumbered at least ten-to-one." He tittered and shook his head.

"If we could catch him marching we have a good chance of destroying his troops, but if he's encamped, his defense advantage could push him over the edge."

"If we are going to attack, we would have to do it in broad daylight, which means it would be hard to surprise him, we cannot attack during the night, as his defenses would be raised and his troops encamped. Perhaps we could hide in the kingswood and strike when he is forced to march through." He suggested with a shrug, not raising his eyes from his knife, which he had begun using to clean his fingernails.

"If we attack him in the open it would be a battle of tactics, and I know I'm good, but I'm worried Tyget may be better."

Loras shrugged a little, as he looked over at the Master of Arms, taking in what he said.
"He might be, but we haven't attacked him yet. I don't know much strategy, but Tyget has always had us on the back foot, always assaulted us, without end. Perhaps we ought to make him think. We have the larger force, but it needs to be used correctly." Loras said, as he looked at the map.

"What about Payne Hall? We could attack him, while he marches, using the hills to our advantage. Our men would be fresher than his, surely?" 

"Perhaps, it might be workable, if I may comment. We would need to be careful, perhaps lure him out using other forces so that we catch him without a solid encampment. They will know we are coming. But so do we." Alesander said, as Lyanna looked in, the Gold Road weaving through the Westerlands, the lower hills of Payne Hall still not able to conceal an army, but firmly in Westerlander control, a cutting point between the Reach and the Riverlands.

"Tyget is a smart man, but he's desperate. If he wasn't, he'd muster even more soldiers, mercenaries, and he'd hit us where it mattered. If like you say, Loras, he wants the Crown, then he would have been wiser than to leave Gerald to it. There is little other play he has left if he wants to retain his head. As they say, in this fine game of thrones, you win, or you die." Lyanna slyly commented, as she shook her head.
"Cersei Lannister was an awful human being, but she also had a point. I suggest we make it time to see if he's willing to play this game at the highest stakes." She added, looking to Belgrave once again.

"You've fought for the Iron Throne and against Dorne for most of your life. Tyget is a man of coin and manipulation. He isn't a glorious commander, just stern is all. You don't have to use him to win, that's how he fights his wars, by doing that don't you see? You just have to make him scared and you'll unravel him....and a fight will come, indeed. Tell us, Belgrave, what can be done?" 

Belgrave frowned.
"What is there to be afraid of? Tyget has one of the two largest forces left on the continent, aye, ours is larger, but he has children, children who he can marry, the North, Vale, and Riverlands are all still neutral, if Tyget secures their alliance, only gods can save us, the key isn't fear, it's speed." He scratched his beard, but caught himself doing it, lowering his hand and frowning.

Lyanna nodded, a wry smile on her face.
"I wouldn't worry about that, Lord Tarly. Our family will play it's part in this great game. A great one, indeed, so will yours. The North will not rise to a war for a Westerman, and the Riverlanders only remember too well what war brings. I might have a plan for those Rivermen after all, and should it work, I wouldn't imagine we wouldn't be encircled, rather quite the opposite. Far more appropriately than one queer flower of the boar in Lord Tully's court ever shall succeed in his attempts." Lyanna looked like she knew, it appeared, by what ear, nobody would really understand how she knew of Tywin's positioning in the world, but she had her sources, and a Lady like her had to, if she needed to know who was gossiping. The look on her face was concealed, but she seemed to have a certain kind of cunning,  

No little birds, but a few little sources, here and there, people that walked in on conversations, on little rumors, and by seven hells, did Lyanna sometimes enjoy listening to those people's little rumors. A gay Prince, how utterly charming, she thought to herself. Tyget had to be furious, if he knew, or even believed what was heard. A young dashing blonde Knight, who was not known to be active with women? He wasn't a chivalrous Knight, he was something else...perhaps.

"If speed is what you need, Belgrave, you have it. Shock, aggression, the Rose's thorns in the Boar's belly." Loras commented, chuckling lightly.

Belgrave frowned with one eyebrow raised, seeming unable to understand what was meant by a "Queer flower", however, his frown turned to a nod as Lyanna continued speaking.
"We have the initiative, we just need to take it, our forces are fresh, if we march hard, we should be able to reach the Gold Road before Tyget, but we could also march to the Crownlands, or at least I assume...?" He turned to his aide in Ser Alesander, who nodded.

"Well, if we can reach the Crownlands and thus the Western Kingswood, why wouldn't we take that chance? Stopping them at Payne Hall is safer aye, but do we want safe or decisive?" He shook his head and leaned back.

"Of course, the idea of drawing Tyget into an ambush is not a bad idea either, but we wouldn't be able to hide our army, perhaps place a small unit of infantry 'out of position' and attack whatever goes after them, draw them into an encirclement."

Loras nodded, looking at the map once more, agreeing.
"The Western Kingswood then, perhaps. The Vale of Blackwater Rush. Close to his borders, close enough to scare him. He would have no other way around, he would be forced to go back, or press through us. No detours into the Reach, or else he'd be going backwards, and we'd chase him down. Two forces of that size cannot miss, not on the Gold Road But....he is cunning, a fearsome opponent indeed. If he saw our army disappear, he'd think we were getting ready to ambush him. It'll be difficult to lure him to a trap. Not unless he has something to lose, something he couldn't lose." 

Belgrave shook his head.
"We couldn't just allow our army to disappear, when he is entering the Kingswood, we would need to be sure that he knows where we are up until we both enter, just so that he doesn't pull away and decide to strike for Highgarden. My plan at this point is... hmm..." He looked around.

"Do we have a map of the Western Kingswood anywhere? So that my tactics can take form, rather than just being in my head."

Alesander nodded, as he stood up, knowing that it would benefit in general, compared to map of just the southern Kingdoms of Westeros. 
"Aye, m'Lord. Jamie the Green was responsible for it's expansion along the Blackwater Vale after all, he probably had some archives of his own. No doubt that Tyget could immediately have the same idea, though if he is moving and isn't expecting it, it's hard to think he'd get a map of his own." With that, he headed towards the exit of the room, knowing it would be a little of a walk, to find the map from the Maester's library, across the innards of the castle.

Lyanna sipped a little more of her mead, looking once again at the markers on the map, and the intricately illustrated map on the table.
"He'll be smart. Cunnning old bastard, he'll potentially even wait us out, if he doesn't take the bait and knows he can't move. But that only will secure us time if something went wrong. Time to pull back, and hold off....but then again, he is rushing. He is panicked." Lyanna simply added, sighing, as Loras turned to the Lord Tarly.

"I would want Garland to help you lead the men, Belgrave. But right now, I believe he's helping deal with our troubles with marriage. I can do what I can, if you want me there." Loras may have been the Hand, and in the stead of Garland, he was practically the Lord of Highgarden, running the realm in his absence, yet it didn't entirely seem like that was the case sometimes with his advisors and Lyanna around. 

Belgrave whistled for his squire, who took the knife off of his hands. He placed his elbows onto the table and nodded in Loras' direction.
"I'd be honored to have the castellan of Highgarden on my side, just as long as you don't try to be a hero," he chuckled.

"I'd much prefer if the lord of Oldtown survived my leadership." He roared in laughter and smacked his knee loudly. Still laughing, he took a sip of mead, coughing and groaning.

"Mead? Augh, I much prefer wine to be honest, you couldn't get Lord Redwyne to send some Arbor?" He asked, half-jokingly.

Loras chuckled, looking at Lyanna.
"She insisted. It's something different apparently." Loras himself had Arbor, and Lyanna, strangely, did have mead, as Belgrave had noted, Lyanna noding as she shrugged, chuckling lightly at Belgrave's comment.

"I would think as so much, we drink too much of Lord Arthur's finest. Oh, and I would agree, Lord Tarly. I'd prefer it too if he didn't die, although..." Lyanna was cut off, as Alesander came in, with another parchment, bringing it in. Moving the figurines of the Reach, Westerman and tiny retinue in King's Landing off the map, the map of the Western Kingswood was in view. Jamie the Green in the times of Aegon VIII, in his later years had helped to plant the coniferous forest that lined the Vale (Valley) of the Blackwater Rush, the river valley to be dotted with isolated patches of forests, many of which were displayed on the map, albeit one lined the river's banks closely. Wherever there were no forests, farmland filled the land, the peasants recouped for their losses, and the valley was easily wide enough and flat enough to accommodate an army marching through, with little to no problem, albeit never to hide one like the Kingswood proper could. The valleyside was not steep, it was gentle, and a slight elevation change. Jamie the Green was not a cartographer, but it was in remarkable detail, a map that could be found in few other places than Highgarden, such was it's difficulty to reproduce. 

The Blackwater Rush, flowing from the hills of the Westerlands' High Lordship of the Gold Road, and the Blackwater of the God's Eye met where the forest began at it's thickest, leading to King's Landing proper, dotted across, not a sweeping mass such as it was in the High Lordship of the Kingswood itself. It was a fine region, and whilst part of it was a part of the Reach, Riverlands, Westerlands and Crownlands, it was dominated by the Gold Road, and in itself, close in it's proximity to the capital. The lands of House Lolliston, Footly, and Payne seemed to intercept here.

"Here it is, Lord Tarly. Didn't take me as long as I thought." Alesander simply added, taking a seat by Belgrave's side again, as he looked across once more.

Belgrave tittered and looked over the map, frowning and shaking his head.

"Not as large as I expected," he bemoaned.

"Jaime should have planted more trees." A moment of silence fell over the room as Belgrave looked over the map, until finally he spoke and laid a finger upon a patch of forest.

"There, where the hills open up into the forest, that should be dense enough to hide an amount of men in, and that patch over there..." He poked another, smaller patch of trees inside the valley proper.

"That could hide the rest, they're far apart... but we could hold with the force at the hills and rush over with the rest, we would need to place our knights and archers with the reinforcing group, our heavy infantry are going to have to shieldwall down here, and we'll have some light infantry here to flank." He pointed to the mouth of the valley, then the forested area to the right respectively.

"It's gonna be a lot tougher than I expected to ambush him, but if we hide well he should still be marching in column, it will certainly be more open fighting, but the surprise should be enough to take him." Belgrave rubbed his chin with a thumb, still planning in case.

"That's all we need. It's going to be a fight. Even if it's a small surprise, an upset is enough to hamper him. His men will be near exhausted by the time they get there if they're forced march. Even if they reinforced for an attack against us, time will serve us." Alesander said, as Loras nodded, approvingly.
"It won't be easy. There will be blood, but there's no other way. Not unless anyone has any other ideas." Loras added, as Lyanna looked over.

"Even I don't have any better solution. But things that I can work with will occur soon. Alliances, the game of rulership. The Ironborn are raiding his lands, the Yunkish have taken some slaves, and his army has marched hard. They'll be tired when they get there, they'll be rushing hard, so even if Tyget has the right idea, his commanders might not. He is rushing and not thinking of his consequences." She simply said, sighing.

"You men can have the war. But leave us to the politics. I'd think we're fine with that." Loras looked on confusingly at Lyanna as she spoke, her grey emminent stare shutting him up,  as Alesander turned to Belgrave.
"It's a good call, Belgrave. But this is going to be brutal, no matter what." 

Belgrave nodded.
"One mistake and we're back to where we started, hand out a plan to every commander, I want them aware of what we're doing at every moment, we cannot be disjointed, if one commander reacts too late, we'll be caught out and Tyget will be able to form up," he demanded sternly.

"Bloody hells, why couldn't Tyget just have been the Lord of Storm's End? That would have made things so much easier." He shook his head in a tired fashion, rubbing a hand over his forehead and tittering nervously.

"Well...the Seven bestows challenges upon us for a reason. If he can challenge Belgrave, then it's a match to watch." Loras meekly commented, as Alesander chuckled, shaking his head.
"Challenges like Tyget fucking Crakehall. And the fact that it's our whole Realm at stake if we make a mistake, Lord Hightower. I hate to say it, but I don't think we'll die fast if Tyget wins, not if the stories are true...so it's better we have him in chains than us." 

------------------------------

It was later that night, that Lyanna Tyrell began writing, and enacting her end of the political deal. In the absence of Alerie and Garland, she had to send her messages, and get it through to the other Lords of the Realm. She might not have held the titles that Garland did, but her wisdom and knowledge would be understood by those who knew of her name, of the Queen of Thorns that resided over Loras's power.

[hider=To the Lord Riaon Tully]

To the Lord Riaon Tully, Lord Paramount of the Trident,

I know it would have been expected to receive a letter from my nephew, but due to consequences beyond our family's control, I am writing this to you to discuss issues of importance for both House Tully, and House Tyrell. Your father was wise to keep the Riverlands neutral and spared the wrath of the Boar, but I would think that you know that times have began to change, what with the arrival of new claimants to the Throne. I expect you do not wish to join in a war not waged on your own soil so as to protect your harvest, but I would like to write assurances that if the flames of war were to arrive in the Riverlands, the forces of the Reach would assist in any way we could to prevent any damage. If these words mean nothing to you, then listen to my following words, as they are of importance to our realms.

Upon my niece's arrival in Highgarden, I wish to send her to meet yourself, following the passing of your father, as the envoy from House Tyrell. I understand little contact has been retained due to the current conflict in the world taking both our houses away on more pressing issues, but I hope to remedy this by sending her to negotiate for the Reach in your Lordship. As aforementioned, this is to discuss a number of issues that affect both our interests that should be discussed in person; this is including the harassment of the Southern Riverlands by the Crakehalls. I wouldn't expect that you would blame us for this, but it is still to be discussed.

Regards,

Lady Lyanna Tyrell, Lady Dowager of the Reach
[/hider]

Not everything was going to work out perfectly, but Lyanna was blunt at times, and guessed a little that Riaon's personality was similar, like his father, unwilling to particularly care for other Realms. But the Tullys had become a resurgent force in recent times, as had the Starks, Arryns, and Martells, all people of which she would have to write to. Those were letters to come.

------------------------------

(collab with [@Gowi] )

[h1][b][color=FFD700][center]The Red Keep[/center][/color][/b][/h1]

[center][img]http://westerosrecruitment.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/Kingsguard.jpg[/img][/center]

After some heavy sleep, Willas was up again, the breaking of dawn barely an hour past, knowing that correspondence in the form of a Raven had arrived back again in the Maester's quaters of the Red Keep, for Willas, no less. It appeared Cathryn had replied, and was coming earlier than expected, a positive bode of news, at least. Women didn't normally serve on the Kingsguard, but right now, Willas had a feeling that Kingsguard wasn't going to serve a "King", rather a Queen, in the not to distant future, and that it would at least appease the Rivermen with a presence of their own in the capital. The Shark's sister was good with a blade, and as far as he knew, willing to serve in the guard, to give up the other pleasures in life to serve loyally as a guard to the Crown. Once again, whilst Ladies were not often anointed as Knights, Ser (or rather, Lady) Cathryn had proven remarkable, and to Willas, if the stories bode true, then it was a worthwhile appointment, alongside the rest he had in mind and was yet to hear replies from.

Someone else could take a look at how bad this situation, he said to himself in his head. They would know who she was, and who she was coming to visit, so she wouldn't have been hassled on the way in, not by any of the Reachman soldiers at least. The peasantry wouldn't have thought much to it, so long as she was swift. As far as Willas knew, the Lady Tully was a fierce fighter, through and through, and would be a fine addition, even if it were techincally supposed to be the job of the King, to appoint a guard.

A few minutes later, and from the top of one of the gatehouse's towers, he saw the group of horses roll up with the banners of House Tully, the Rivermen that acompanied Cathryn's horse simularly armoured, as Willas headed down from the gatehouse's wall, the distant noise of chians being turned and the gate being slowly lifted, followed by the trotting of horse hooves inside the Red Keep's courtyard and stables. Willas as per usual wore his Kingsguard plate, a poleaxe on his back, the look on his face weary and stern to the world, the usual appearance he had after waking up from such a short sleep, and an important night. The Knight's weary face did not age him, but did suggest that indeed, over the last few weeks, he had seen an awful lot of madness and dealt with it in turn.

Cathryn looked incredible, the Lady Tully, turned Knight, one woman that seemed to hold a particular gravity, as the twin sister of the current Lord Paramount of the Trident, and as her own being. Her armour appeared to have a light green accent to it, contrasting her sharp red hair, a lighter and brighter shade than Alerie's, Willas thought to himself, yet it burned like a dull flame, beyond her platemail. Whilst she may have been Riaon's age, and a fighter indeed, from where Willas stood, the scars didn't show, and she seemed relatively pretty, like someone Garland too, would have fallen head over heels for. Willas approached her in the courtyard, followed by Maxwell, looking up as he let her step off her horse.

"Welcome to the Red Keep, Ser Tully." He knew it seemed and sounded wrong, using a male term for a female Knight, but it would have to do, in absence of anything.

"I understand it must have been a long journey, and it's still early, after all. The Keep's Guard can take your belongings to a quarter, for now." Willas added, the last Kingsguard looking at Cathryn, awaiting her reply.

“What little belongings I have, I suppose.” Her glance moved over to her companions and gave a slight nod.

She seemed to have a few notable companions with her, Willas noticed, as he looked over at them, when she did. Marcyl Whent looked at Cathryn a little more lustfully than the others did, Willas could see it in his eyes and from what past experiences he had of when he had seen people look in that particular way. Whilst they appeared to wear a simular mixture of platemail and mail, they didn't have the presence that Cathryn wielded, a woman who looked like far more of a warrior, her presence in plate seemingly more prominent, from her broad shoulders to simply the way that she seemed to stand.

"Splendid." Willas was tired, that much was visible, as he looked back at the Great Hall, then back at Cathryn and her companions. 

"Ser Whent, I assume? I did keep you in mind for the Kingsguard, I was half tempted to write you a letter too. Perhaps while you're here, you can prove yourself." He asked, looking at the other Knight by Cathryn's side, someone he didn't recognize so well, but Marcyl was a relatively experienced Knight, dutiful, but still mostly an unknown to Willas.

The brown-haired man’s eyes widened for a minute, but he covered it well enough to not have the rest of Cathryn Tully’s entourage to notice his instinctive reaction to the comment— though it didn’t matter because Willas saw it. “It would be an honor to, Lord Commander. I don’t think my family has had such opportunity to serve the realm since Robert’s Rebellion.”

Willas nodded, knowing that while he made no promises, it could be interesting to see what he was made of. Still, there was much to do, and much to be seen, and he still wanted to talk with Cathryn, on her own, later in the day. Even Marcyl, who's father, Brynden, would be a valuable asset in the coming fights, particularly if the Crakehalls tried their luck again. Willas knew that wasn't a distant future, but could happen again, if Tyget was driven enough, not that he knew the reality.

"Well, I ought to show you our King's fine castle. Might as well get to know it if you're going to be serving him. Though, wheather we serve the King for much longer is up in the air." Willas simply said to Cathryn and her entourage, a little lightness in his voice, knowing that while it was the morning, he had to just keep things going. 

With that, he looked over towards the Great Hall, the Cathedral-like place in which the Iron Throne sat, the thousand swords of Aegon's enemies, no less. He didn't know if Cathryn had been here, but he thought it would be a good place to go, rather than leave them out in the courtyard, waiting.

"We have much to talk on, Cathryn. And yourself, Marcyl."

“Aye, you two take care of yourselves. We’ll be in the city for a few days before we head back to Harrenhal ourselves, ‘less you need us here when the damned Crakehall’s rear their snouts again.” The older companion of the entourage, one Bennard Lolliston, commented as he scratched the edge of his beard as he paused for a moment before adding on to his words. “Though I suppose that’s [i]if[/i] they do. What do you think Lord Commander?”

Turning quickly, he looked to Bennard, the bearded knight looking on at Willas, the Lord Commander noting that Ser Bennard was of the respective House that sat on the Gold Road entering King's Landing, beyond the Crownlands. No doubt the Crakehalls had already roamed through his lands to make it to King's Landing once, and routed through it, along the Vale of the Blackwater Rush, so his point was of relevance to note.

"It is possible, Ser Lolliston. I am glad to hear you don't approve of them wandering your lands to attack this city, nor to Harrenhal. I doubt we'll need your swords, but if the situation arises, we could use all the help we can get. From yourself, and your House. And you would be rewarded for retaining the King's peace if you did." Willas said simply to the Riverman, guessing from this attitude that the Southern Riverlands appeared not to be at ease with the Crakehalls passing close and through their lands to attack the Crown, and that it would be useful if an alliance or a coalition had to be made. The Tyrell was not a politcally astute figure, yet he had dealt with people of these kinds in the past before rather diplomatically, and it had worked itself out rather well. It wasn't much, but simply knowing that he accepted Ser Bennard's suggestion, could yield a few hundred more swords for either King's Landing in it's time of need, or the wars to come.

The older man nodded, “Hoping the new Lord Paramount puts his foot down instead of letting them do whatever they wish to. We shan’t be allowing military forces to stomp over our farmlands idly. But that’s just an old knight’s opinion.”

“My brother isn’t exactly the submissive type, Ser Bennard.” Cathryn commented in reply, as she kept her eyes on the men before her.

"It's of my opinion too, Ser Bennard... I would imagine though, that Cathryn's brother is who you serve right now. If you wish to fight when they take the fight to House Lollistion's lands, we will help you in any way we can. I have no doubt there will be a fight, on our lands, or theirs, or here." Willas simply added, as he knew that they were going to part ways, they appeared to want to head off, into the city itself.

"If you need anything from the Crown while you are in the city, let us know. It may be chaos, but food and water has returned."  Willas simply concluded, 

He laughed, “How about a good drink?”

Willas chuckled, looking up. 

"With the climate we're in, I wouldn't blame you at this time of morn." Willas shook his head, as he sighed, looking on as he watched them turn back to their horses before ultimately heading off into the city, leaving Cathryn and Marcyl with Willas and Ser Maxwell.

“I suppose we should get on with it, then.” Marcyl commented.

With that, Willas led the way, heading towards the doors of the Great Hall. It had only been a couple of weeks prior, when blood had run down it's floor, along every single crack after what had happened between the Tyrell Retinue and Lyman Lannister's mad attempt to seize the Throne's gold. Once a Lannister, always a Lannister. Until it had been proven he was a lowborn scumbag, and that he was just some common thief. Everyone was the fool, until Willas stabbed him through the throat with the end of his poleaxe.

The Great Hall was truly magnificent, as Willas, Ser Maxwell, Cathryn and Marcyl entered, the empty chair on the far end visible, as Willas led the way forward. They walked through the empty hall, not a soul inside, the light breaking through the stained glass, and the uncomfortable-looking chair at the end making it's presence heard.

"That chair is to what we serve. The thousand blades of Aegon's enemies. I am glad to hear that you're both interested in serving. It's a difficult job, with many vices to give up, a code of honor to uphold." Willas knew that even in his own heart, he had broken the latter, but he had to say it, out of knowing it was simply to tell them to act as he said, not as he knew in his heart he actually had.

"There isn't any need for theatrics, but you get the picture. The Kingsguard are a noble, and honorable institution. I wanted you here, Sers, because it is us that protects the person on that chair from the people who seek to take it for themselves, the last line of defense. I may not be ideal, but I have served King Aegon, and Aerys faithfully, as you would."

“Indeed. I believe it truth that we all know the history of those who bear the white cloak.” Cathryn nodded, as she looked over the desolate and empy chair. 

"There isn't pefection, many of us have not been honorable, but we do our best, to uphold the valour and values of our position. And are willing to die, if needed, to protect our King." Willas simply said, coldly, as he knew the other two Knights would understand full well what he said. He could tell that Cathryn was devoted, she seemed committed in her own mind, to do what was needed. Whilst her red locks would go strangely against the silver plate, and the white cloak, she seemed to be someone who understood what was to be done in this place.

“There is great good to be done in King’s Landing.” Cathryn stated as she crossed her arms, her comment made with no sense of doubt or lacking in dilligence. Since she had sent back her letter of acceptance for the posistion, it was clear that there were few places she would rather be.

"Good to hear. Because there is an awful lot of work to do. I'll show you the rest, then Breakfast should be served, or they should be getting it ready at this time. We can spar afterwards in the practice grounds outside the White Tower. I want to see how you fight, after all.....I'd like to see what you are made of, Ser Cathryn. I'd like to see if the stories are true." Willas replied quickly, as he looked over the two again, Cathryn shorter than him, but still stocky for a Lady, definitely with a martial calling over anything else.

“Of course, Lord Commander.”