[center][img]https://64.media.tumblr.com/1bfef7f3b599960e475b5a402f0d9c38/tumblr_nxf7ulmKYR1s95j2so1_500.gif[/img]

[b]Lord Tytos Lannister[/b]
[color=gray][sub]Lord Paramount of the Westerlands, Lord of Casterly Rock, Shield of Lannisport and Warden of the West[/sub][/color][/center]

Outside the walls of Summerhall, a small field of crimson and gold was being erected. The host of House Lannister had arrived. Their journey had taken them through the Goldroad, stopping frequently and gaining size as the procession grew larger, with other houses of the Westerlands joining their overlords. Among their banners when they finally reached Summerhall, they counted Lefford, Lydden, Reyne, Brax, Westerling and more. Tytos did not care for the action of tourneys, but the opportunity they provided for gathering together lords of the realm would always make them a valuable occasion. Ravens had been sent to all houses of the Westerlands months prior to the journey, inviting them to join the procession through the Goldroad. An intended display of strength and of unity, made plain for all the realm upon their joint arrival.

Halfway-completed tents were arranged in a rectangular arrangement, allowing naturally for a central walkway that would pass by all tents and lead to what was not only the largest, but also the only presently completed tent. This ‘hub’, composed only of tents for House Lannister, was to serve as the central location for all lords of the Westerlands that had staked their tents nearby, creating in effect a ‘westerlands quarter’ of the tourney-grounds. Crates of fabric were hauled by ox, tent poles carried by servants and household guards alike, furniture moved, and oak planks laid for tent flooring. The grass had already been killed by the trudging of boots, starting to brown and the soil beneath soften. It would turn to mud, soon enough.

Outside the completed tent, two posted guards maintained a quiet vigil, an island of calm amidst the chaos of busywork elsewhere. The tent was divided into four compartments - a large middle-section intended for audiences, with smaller and more private extensions to the left, right and rear, their interiors concealed by hanging curtains at the entrances. There could be no doubt of who the tent belonged to. Miniature golden lions rampant against the crimson fabric of the tent, golden frills adorning the corners and two sigils of House Lannister planted firmly in the ground by either side of the tent opening. This, for the coming days, was to be the seat of Lord Tytos Lannister.

Within, the furnishings were a touch more modest, but comfortable. Rugs laid across the wooden floorings, cushioned chairs, basins, golden braziers and storage trunks created a homely environment in the main tent. One item that particularly commanded attention was the display of Tytos’ personal armour. Plate of darkened steel over a crimson gambeson, the black cuirass had a design of golden lions and floral arrangements. The face of proud lions sat on each pauldron, and a belt of red leather was tied across the waist, supporting the sheath of a blade. A bolt of crimson cloth lay across the left-side of the armour, tucked underneath the leather belt and draping down to cover the armoured legplates. It was a display of wealth, and of skilled craftsmanship.

The other central furnishing in the middle section of the tent, was a large square table of dark oak. Bowls of fresh fruit, five-armed candle holders, and golden decanters with matching wine cups cluttered the table. Around the table, a gathering of lords made a toast.

There was the small, podgy lord of the Golden Tooth and the only man present who enjoyed the colour gold more than the Lannisters. The young patriarch of House Westerling, brother to the wife of Tytos’ own son and heir. The black-haired lord of Turnberry, adorned in his house colours of green and red. Other lords among them included those of Reyne, Brax and Lefford. Only one man stood without a cup, at the head of the table. Golden hair that had begun to turn silver was brushed neatly back, flowing behind his ears. His beard was well-groomed, though streaks of white were most noticeable around his chin and mustache. His face - of sharp cheekbones, and a straight nose - held a quiet intensity, and he stood proudly with a straight back, and tall. There was no mistaking that this was Tytos Lannister, patriarch of the house and Lord Paramount of the Westerlands. In contrast to his lavish surroundings, the clothes he wore were simple, and practical. A long jacket of black leather, with plain trousers and leather boots, both also black. A red neckscarf around his neck, and the golden brooch of a roaring lion on his left shoulder.

Some closing remarks were said to the assembled lords, who began to file out of the tent thereafter, leaving only three men present. 

“She has been seen.” He had waited until all others were out of earshot before beginning the conversation. [url=https://www.damian-lewis.com/images/posts/2020/02/PBSWolfHallDamianLewis.jpg]Raynald Garner[/url], the red-haired second son of a minor house, had made good standing in the Westerlands. He acted as the most trusted adviser to Lord Tytos, and was said to maintain a network of informants throughout the Westerlands - and beyond. “Celena [i]Lannister[/i]. The lost daughter.”

Tytos moved to warm his hands by a brazier. He was always first to feel the cold. “And we are still in the dark. We do not know her motive, where she has been, why she is here.”, a pause. “[i]If[/i] it even is her, and not some falsehood.”

“A beggar, here to lay claim to Lannisport.”, offered Ser Vikary. A stocky, well-built master-at-arms with lips creased in a near-permanent frown. If Raynald was the adviser, Vikary was the enforcer.

Raynald threw a hand dismissively. “If that was her intent, we would know by now.”

“Then why else come here? A gathering of all great lords in the realm? She’s here to stake claim. She’s after the city.”, Vikary retorted. The men continued to bicker a while longer, before words from Tytos silenced the pair.

“There is but one way to know for certain, and it is not by gossiping as fish wives.”, his pale green eyes rose from the brazier to Vikary. “Take some men, and seek her. I doubt a golden-haired Lannister will be beyond your means to find. Bring her here.”, his attention returned to the brazier. “I will find the truth of this myself.”


[hr]

[center][b]Loreon Lannister[/b]
[color=gray][sub]The Lion of Lannister[/sub][/color][/center]

Loreon rode at the head of a small group as they approached the foothills of Red Mountains, and the palace of Summerhall. His black destrier - Midnight - felt tense. “Easy, boy.”, he said with a firm pat against the neck. It was unlikely the horse had been spooked by anything in particular. More likely, was that the steed could feel the tension of his rider. It was not the upcoming tourney that filled the young lion with apprehension, no, he had fought in a half-dozen this past season alone. Nor was it the royal audience in attendance. Instead, this was to be the first reunion with his family in near two winters. He had missed them, in truth, and written to his favored sibling - Leona - to tell tales of his travels, but she had never been able to return correspondence. After all, he could not remember the last time he had stayed idle in one spot for more than a week or two, at most. Perhaps, from this tourney, he would not go so long without visiting the Rock. 

“Nervous, aren’t you.” [url=https://i.imgur.com/0tEvOZw.jpg]Jon Heddle[/url], a knight of very minor nobility, if it could even be called such, was one of the few competitors Loreon had befriended. The two had even become traveling companions, and had been for three winters now. If Loreon remembered properly, Jon’s family owned a popular crossroads inn, and that was the extent of their land. Smallfolk, in all but name, but he didn’t mind. Jon was better company than most.

Loreon offered no reply to the jest.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your sister.”, Jon continued.

That did provoke a reaction. Loreon twisted in his saddle to look back at the dirt-covered knight. Cleanliness with such constant travel was, admittedly, difficult. His eyes of deep green met the blue of Jon in a silent stare, that was soonafter broken by an amused huff from the lion. He returned his attention forward.

“Good luck.”, Loreon offered in a pointed tease. His sister had always been, in his mind, the most dangerous of the three siblings. 

The group continued to trot comfortably forward to the tourney grounds, a few other knights alongside Ser Jon. They were engaged in energetic discussion, and Loreon caught pieces of it here and there. Who would best who, which lady they would crown the queen of love and beauty, and who they would bed. The usual.

Loreon had won more tourneys than the rest of his companions combined - though Ser Jon had bested him once or twice. He had built a reputation, and with it came expectation. Loreon did not intend to disappoint the House of Lannister, nor the Princess Nyla Martell, who’s favour he would surely carry. The pair had only fleeting encounters, though it had become something of a tradition between the two that she would grant him her favour. Perhaps this was to be the tourney that would bring him a victory under her favour, for the first time.

Starting to move through the tourney grounds proper, the makeshift roads and paths became busier and their progress slowed. Knights and squires, servants constructing tents, carts with materials, smallfolk peddling goods. He enjoyed the chaos of it - and, more than this, Loreon enjoyed the attention afforded to him. His armor had always turned heads.

A suit of plated steel, enameled with pure gold and constrasted by a heavy cloak of crimson. There could be no doubt to any who saw him, that this was a Lannister of the Rock. Even the hilt of his blade was gilded. Beneath the plate, visible at the joints of his arms and neck, was the black gambeson he wore underneath. His helmet, hanging by the side of his horse, was the mouth of a roaring lion with two pronounced teeth at the roof of the mouth. Unlike the rest of his troupe, Loreon took care in the polishing and cleaning of his armor - and the sheen of his plate glittered like a thousand stars in the reflection of the sun. The clasps of his plate were also gilded - but no ordinary clasps. They were fashioned as miniature lions, prepared to pounce. His belt of crimson leather was bejeweled with rubies.

Yes, the Lion of Lannister had arrived at Summerhall, and he made for the tents of his family.

[hider=TL;DR]
House Lannister arrives at Summerhall with an impressive host of houses from the Westerlands. They begin to lay tents in their own section of the tourney grounds. Lord Tytos sends Ser Vikary, his master-at-arms, with several guards to find Celena Lannister ([@Ruby]) and bring her to his tent.

Loreon Lannister arrives at Summerhall with a small group, anxious to see his family for the first time in two winters. His splendid armour turns heads. He recalls the Princess Nyla Martell ([@Danvers]) and hopes to bring victory under her favour, for the first time.[/hider]