[B][color=gold] Ser Aerion, Lady Lyvia, and Ser Oswell, Covert Task Force, Disguised Trade Ship Gray Ice[/color][/B]

Ser Aerion had watched and listened, patient as ever. He sat surrounded by his two friends that had come with him, Lady Lyvia Clegane, and Ser Oswell Whent. The three had kept to themselves, perhaps out of a profound hesitation, or rather collective experience of campaigns on the Stepstones. The grayness of the sea and the clouds overhead did not help with the matter, but it would help keep the range of visibility down to a minimum. The three sat preparing their arms and armor, slowing and methodically ensuring that no rust, grime, or other foreign matter would mar their ability to fight. Ser Aerion looked about the ship, to the others who had been drafted into this conflict. They all looked, at least to him, itching for a fight, excited for combat. Most likely none had ever fought on the Stepstones, never had to slog through the Seven-Forsaken terrain nor stormed beaches aboard rickety landing barges. Under it all though, was the fear of not coming back, of dying on these far away shores. Aerion forced a smile, offering out his hands to his comrades, beckoning them to join his. “May the Seven protect us from the trials we will soon face.”

As they unclasped their hands, Ser Oswell and Lady Lyvia went back to their work, the two industriously working away and cleaning their gear. Aerion paused from her work, looking about the ship to the others aboard. He spied their leader, Prince Aemon, along with his other Targaryen kin, Prince Viserys, Prince Rhaegar, and Lady Visenya, the four all upon the Sterncastle, no doubt plotting their course of action for the coming storm. They did look imposing in their clothing, the shirts they wore probably worth more than many men-at-arms armor and arms. Aerion looked from them to Lord Commander Podrick Payne, the man imposing in his armor and flowing cloak, nodding in his direction. There were others of note aboard the Gray Ice, though Ser Aerion did not recognize any of them aside from Ser Jamie Lannister, the Kingslayer. Of course, that pompous braggart Ser Ellion of House Tyrell was aboard, much to Ser Aerion’s continued irritation. He couldn’t stand the man for obvious reasons, but that was neither for here nor there. Seran of Lys was aboard, to which Aerion waved at with a smile, knowing that at least there was another combat veteran of the Stepstones. Last were the men and women from the Riverlands and the North, of them, only Lady Merebelle Gray, Ser Ellion’s current paramour, and Lord Bolton, the drunkard who from table talk, was a joke of a man.

Aerion sighed, setting his sword down, the weapon one of the few Valyrian Steel swords in the world. Unfortunate that the blade was named Poison, but perhaps in time, it could be reforged anew into a more suitable name. Standing up, Aerion stretched his legs and back, nodding to his two friends, before excusing himself. He wanted to go pick Seran’s brain on what was going on, and what he thought about all that was going on. The ship rocked slightly as a gust of wind pushed it to the side, letting Aerion smile a little bit as the members aboard unaccustomed to sea life and travel stumbled about the deck. He found Seran standing by himself alongside the starboard railing. Probably thinking about his beautiful sister, or maybe of a better tomorrow. Aerion called out to Seran of Lys as he stepped beside him. “Seran of Lys, a fine day for sailing, wouldn’t you say?” Aerion smiled, speaking matter-of-factly, before he leaned against the railing. “It is good to have you here, most of the people aboard this ship have no clue what they are sailing into. Though, we both know what’s waiting for us in the Stepstones, don’t you?” Aerion looked about, before lowering his voice, “Seran, what are your thoughts on this… this all just seems like a quagmire. They can’t seriously think that attacking the Pirate King will really work, do they? I mean, you and I have fought here, seen the chaos that ensues when one pirate lord dies, and all the lower rank and file swarm his corpse like bloat flies. What is our brave leader planning… or are you in the dark like I am?” Aerion looked at Seran, politely awaiting his response.

A passing thought crossed into Aerion’s mind while he waited. He had accepted the deal offered to him by the King and Queen, well, almost entirely. He had asked if they would consider allowing him to marry freely, as he pleased, to find a wife that he truly could love, rather than having one forced upon him so to speak. While the idea of being allowed to marry a princess was alluring, Aerion wanted to properly court whoever he was going to marry when the time arose. He left his family’s egg in possession of the King and Queen, one if he were not to return, and two, because he didn’t trust anyone else to look after it. While he had no room to barter with the King and Queen, they at least said they would think about it, and would have an answer for him once they had thought it over. More than likely, they would stand by their first offer, to which Aerion would accept, but there was always hope for this small bit of freedom.

[b][color=orange]Ser Uther Tattershall and Ser Harwin Strong, The Dornish Marches, Castle Blackhaven [/color][/b]

Ser Uther stretched heartily as he dismounted from his horse. Dust still covered his armor from the long ride from King’s Landing. He sipped quickly from his water skin, before moving quickly to join those within the War Council that had been called. Ser Harwin called out as Ser Uther made his way through the outer courtyard to the interior of the castle, “I’ll take care of our horses and gear, don’t worry. You know this region better than I do, and besides, one of us needs to make sure everything is ready to go. Don’t let those people bully you around either.” He smiled, before turning away from the departing Ser Uther to take care of his work. Uther rolled his eye, before disappearing inside. Lord Gendry oversaw the operation, and Ser Uther wanted to be in attendance before he spoke.

Ser Uther found himself a spot toward the middle of those gathered about the war table, a large map of the Red Mountains overlaid upon it, though something seemed odd about it, though Uther couldn’t put his finger on it. The Tyrell subcommander was in attendance, along with his assorted Reachmen officers, and beside them, were the Dornish forces, though Uther couldn’t figure out who was leading them. Oddly, was the man from the Alchemist’s Guild, along with the Targaryen Lord or prince… Aegon, Uther hoped, though he wasn’t truly sure. It had been a long time since he last visited his homeland, and long still since his family lived here. Lord Gendry had a commanding aura about him, as he spoke aloud to the council. Odd, Uther thought, as the man spoke upon not having a for sure location to Hellgate Hall, the supposed stronghold of this new Vulture King.

The scope of the operation was to create a defensive line about the region, with the Reach forces along the Highgarden side of the Red Mountains, the Dornish forces along the Southern ranges, led by Lord Oberyn, and finally, to the North, the royal forces holding the line along Blackhaven. The Tyrells would be held in a rear echelon position, while the main thrust would come from the forces under Lord Gendry’s command. Uther looked at the pieces upon the map, indicating military units and forces, the usual, but he took note of the piece placed in the center of the map, indicating the Vulture King, or where he was supposed to be. Gendry detailed every part of the plan, to include the most interesting piece, Ser Aegon would be flying atop his dragon, and would provide a sort of over watch to the ground forces. Should they find themselves in a hairy situation, they’d signal the dragon rider, and he would swoop in to make use of the dragon’s fiercesome abilities, namely its fire. 

The first phase of the rebel cleanup operation was to take the Spine, the highest peak in the Red Mountains. It commanded a clear view of the region, along with allowing a stepping stone for the further phases of this conflict. The risk of course, aside from enemy combatants, were the elements and terrain. High heat, high altitude, sparse water sources, hostile wildlife, and of course, when rain storms hit, it caused flash flooding and mudslides. And that was in the summer months, the winter brought freezing temperatures, and torrential snow fall that could bury entire passes. Hellgate Hall was the final prize, but everything one step at a time. The standing order was to have double water rations upon one’s self always, which certainly made sense. After Lord Gendry finished speaking, he opened the floor to the others present, to see if anyone else had any input.

After letting the other Lords and knights speak their parts, Ser Uther cleared his throat to speak out. The others had brought up important things, raised valuable questions, but they were missing something rather important. Uther had finally spotted the oddity upon the map, it becoming clear once he had gotten a better view of it. The ruins of Vulture’s Roost was missing from the very detailed map. Ser Uther moved to the forefront of the room, closer toward the table, and spoke aloud in a polite manner. “I couldn’t help but notice, but your map is missing the location of the Vulture’s Roost.” He paused, before motioning those to look at the map, towards where the River Wyl began. “I would assume this is a newer map, and probably why those ruins were left off. The Vulture’s Roost was once a formidable castle that commanded the region. It fell some time ago, during the reign of the First Vulture King. It may still be in use, and it would certainly serve as a means for them to smuggle goods in and out of the region. I’d wager they have a sizable garrison there, and maybe even personal maps of the region. Plus, if you cut off this means of resupply, you would weaken them innumerably.” Uther paused, before reaching into his shield, pulling out an old and yellowed map. While it wasn’t as colorful nor fine as the war table map, it had old details that had long since been forgotten or left aside with the progress of time. “This map is very precious to me… to my family, so be careful with it, my Lords.” Ser Uther stepped back, and if any were looking close enough at his face and eyes, they might be able to see he was holding something back, suppressing some internal strife.

[b][color=red] Lord Lorimer of House Lefford, Lady Cerenna, his sister, and Lady Myrielle Hill… now Lannister, the Red Keep, Lord Lefford’s Rooms [/color][/b]
Lord Lorimer sat in his study, in a rather cozy chair. Never had he believed such things would happen to him in a million years. He had the Targaryen’s to thank for all that he now had, even this room he was recovering in. The apartment was beyond anything he had ever stayed in. His lady wife was asleep in their bed, and how lovely she looked, even asleep. She was so serene and perfect, and it was by the charity of the Targaryen’s that he could marry her, and have a home in which to offer her. He still remembered the small ceremony in which they were married, and how the King and Queen were present, joining the Houses of Lefford and Lannister together. Never before had he seen such a kind sovereign, and forever would he be beholden to them. It was a great honor to be in their presence, one which he would not forget.

Lorimer smiled, pushing that thought away, as he focused back unto his work. He had asked the throne what he could do to help, even if it were small or insignificant. And thus, was how Lord Lorimer had been tasked with carrying out writs of disbarment and warrants of arrest, or rather, helping to write them out. The stack of papers was for a group of bandits that was harrying smallfolk and supply lines in a triangular region between Red Lake, Silverhill, and Goldengrove. Apparently, they were being led by two lesser sons of local nobility, namely a bastard son of House Swyft and the third born son of House Webber. These two had gathered a few dozen down and out hedge knights, along with a few other assorted criminal filth, and had proceeded to pillage and steal small trade caravans and farms. While in of itself was probably not that big of a deal, the longer it went on, the worse it could become. While traditionally those within the King’s Justice employ would do this type of work, they were overwhelmed right now with the amount of warrants and writs being levied upon them. 

Lorimer felt a touch upon his shoulder, looking up to see his sister smiling down upon him. She had probably woken up to get herself some water, and stopped to check in on her older brother. “Lorimer, you are working too hard. Go get some rest and lay with your wife. These papers will be here tomorrow, as will any other work. Besides, you need to rest so your leg can heal, less you want to have a stump instead. Now go… or I will go wake Myrielle and sick her on you.” She said with a smile, quickly moving away to near Lorimer’s bed. He rolled his eyes, and sighed, nodding to his sister. “Fine, fine, I will call it a night. I best get some sleep, and I wouldn’t want to have two angry women. You win sister, you win. Now off with you, troublemaker.” Lorimer rose, grabbing hold of a crutch to help him walk to his bed. 

Cerenna smiled, wishing her brother goodnight, before moving to blow out the candles in his study, tidying up his desk, before heading back towards her own room. She sat down, taking a sip of her water, before looking at a letter that sat upon her small writing table. She sighed, not sure how to finish writing it. But, there was plenty of time to figure these things out. Instead, she blew out her candle, and crawled back into bed, sleep first, worry later.