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[b][color=f26522]S T A R P I K E[/color][/b][/h1][/sup]
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[color=f26522][h3][i]Tidings Upon the Walls[/i][/h3][/color]

	A fine morning rose on Starpike, a golden sun rising high in the east peeking through billowy scattered clouds. The redstone walls of the mighty castle glistened, wet from an evening rain that broke just before the morn. A cool breeze drifted westwardly, down from the red mountains and into the valley, stirring the proud orange banners flying upon Starpike’s triple towers. A small tributary of the mander flowed past the southern and eastern walls forming a half moat of shallow mountain water before it eventually turned west on its long journey to the sunset sea. Dotted fields, manor houses, and settlements lined along its waters carving out habitable living spaces from the stretching moorland that dominated the southwest. In the north were patches of pine forests and meadows where great flocks of sheep grazed on dew soaked grass. Watchful sentries patrolled the towers, dressed in tunics of brilliant hunters orange and clutching strung lowbows, an arrow ready upon the string. Below in the valley the castle town of Little Apicem nestled a half league away from Starpike the smallfolk were finishing up their morning labors, though a certain quiet held sway over the cobbled streets. Mothers kept a close watch on their children, and young women did far more of the work than normally seen, for many husbands and sons were away.

	A familial trio traveled atop the northern wall where a thin woman of strawberry blonde hair held the hands of her small children leading them to her favored spot. She’d dressed herself in a dark blue dress and cloak of furs, dressed warmly despite the mild temperatures. She had not yet grown accustomed to the cooler climate of the moor and mountains, which stood in stark contrast to the pleasant omnipresent warmth of her father’s lands. Her name was Lady Antonie Peake, and she commanded the castle now that her husband found himself away fighting. Antonie looked pale and a little sick with worry, and she clutched tightly to her children as if afraid they would be led away to battle as well. The eldest child skipped and chattered like a squirrel, her darker head swayed cheerily and grey eyes gleamed giving no indication of recognizing the somber ambiance that held sway over the wartime castle or her mother. The grim faced sentries they passed would see the happy girl and could not help but smile themselves, warmed by youthful naivety. They would nod their heads and murmur. “Pleasent morning my ladies, good master.” Before returning to their rounds. The girl’s given name was Ellen, and there could be no subduing her. The little boy, having seen no more than eight years, wore a very different expression. He remained sour and downcast, trailing behind his mother and sister. Occasionally he would glance towards the distant northwest, a look of jealousy and longing in his blue eyes. His name was Meryn, and he long complained at the denial against his wishes to travel with his father and elder brother to bring battle to the sandblooded. Even his beloved uncle Ser Unwin Peake could not bring a smile to the dour little face when it came time to depart two moons ago. Ser Unwin assured the boy that a strong man must be left behind to protect the women of the house, and that not all the fierce warriors of the March could leave home undefended. Ser Derrium Daring had taken charge of course, not an eight year old boy. Castellan of Starpike and master of arms Ser Daring saw to little Meryn’s training, allowing the boy to take a leading role in the decision making and running of the keep in order to distract him from his malaise.

	The three settled at the base of the second tower, where the height of the walls and the elevated hillside position of the castle gave an excellent and unhindered view of the spreading countryside. A serving maid brought a basket containing a kettle of tea and a batch of warm scones and honey to spread for a light refreshment. The pleasant scent of fresh baking washed away the worries for a brief moment reminding the young mother of home, and Antonie tried to relax. It would do no good to brood. The maid departed leaving them in peace as they enjoyed the sunshine and birdsong and prayed for their kin’s safety wherever they might be.

	They were interrupted again by the approaching sounds of boots and a middle aged man appeared. He wore a sword and a knightly coat of arms across his doublet which depicted an orange mountaineer scaling a black mountain. His face bore many scars and each step displayed a noticeable limp from an old battle wound. This grizzled veteran was none other than Ser Derrium Daring himself, and the landed knight bore himself with a stubborn pride, refusing to show any pain from his past injuries. He had risen far, to be in his current station. Holding the high regards and trust of lord Gorman Peake himself, and granted the honorary position of castellan of Starpike. A notable appointment, especially considering the many Peake kin that lived in the moor and valley. A large bushy mustache of grey scrunched up in a pleased smile as Ellen skipped over and gave the old knight a hug. Meryn, far more restrained than his eager sister, merely shook the man’s hand, but hovered close to the knight, drinking in every word.

	“I knew I would find you here, my lady.” Ser Derrium spoke in a low gravely tone and he restrained a cough. Giving a short polite bow to Antonie he continued. “ I beg your pardon, I did not wish to interrupt your pleasant morning, but this concerns your decision and I deemed it prudent to approach you at once. A raven arrived from your lord husband, it seems his honor Lord Gormon has left the Westerlands and achieved many victories. You must be so proud, my lady.”

	“Of course,” Antonie could barely believe it. Would Gormon be returning already? The war had scarcely just begun it seemed. It could be probable such a great victory won total control for the Black Dragon, she dared hope for good news.

	“I am afraid the war goes on, and Lord Peake is needed elsewhere.” Ser Derrium said, as if sensing her thoughts. “Though he sends word that a hundred yeomen, and four knights including his third cousin Ser Gyman Peake are returning to Starpike, bearing great wagons full of treasure and gains from the west. Seems he wishes to refill the treasury and that taxation may be relaxed upon the knightly manors and smallfolk. That should cheer the people I think. Included in the company is a hostage, a young Halys Swyft, heir to Cornsfield whom we are to treat as a guest.” He turned his attention to the youngest present, considering the boy under a quizzical eye of a teacher. “He is Meryn’s age, so perhaps the two might get along while the lad resides among us.”

	“I shall ensure he is welcome.” Little Meryn said importantly, puffing out his chest in pride. “House Peake treats even its prisoners to our best, right Ser?”

	“Right indeed.” The knight tousled the lad’s hair looking pleased. Antonie felt a small flush of pride at her son’s good conduct. Little Meryn took his lessons very seriously.

	“Ser,” Antonie said when the knight did not continue. “Any word of Able, or my husband’s health? Or that of my brothers who march with him?”

	“Ah, I am afraid not.” Ser Derrium’s smile faded, and the big mustache drooped. “You know my lady, Lord Gormon is all business when it comes to these matters, he does not waste words. I am certain if some ill had befallen your son or brothers the honorable Lord would ensure news reached you. In this instance no news is good news I think.”

	“My husband never writes,” Antonie said a little sadly. “Though I thought Able might, I asked that he would. Perhaps he is so caught up in the excitement of it all.”

	“I hope you do not think less of the lad, I am certain his heart will grow fond and he will heed your instruction.” Ser Derrium turned from the family, leaning against the parapets and gazing out over the forests and moors. Antonie recalled that the knight’s own sons had ridden away in the departing host, and that the veteran knight no doubt wished he were there, ensuring their wellbeing. Derrium licked his lips and turned back to Antonie, his smile gone, his face a picture of gravity. “My lady, I do not wish to alarm you, but Lord Gormon leaves little in his reports, for ravens can be intercepted and code can be broken. However, it worries me that the honorable Lord sends a hundred men and four knights and wagons full of gold back to Starpike, and expresses it so clearly in his missive. It bears foul omens. I fear he expects we need reinforcements.”

	“War is coming to Starpike.” Antonie’s breath caught in her throat, and a trill of fear raced down her spine.

	“Dunstonburry is in the greatest threat, so close to Highgarden and Brightwater I think we shall send the bulk of our fresh troops there. Whitegrove is nigh impregnable up in the mountains, its garrison can resist all of Dorne I think, and Ser Harry Peake who commands there is stubborn as stone. He will not give up Whitegrove without battle. The additional men shall make it easier to patrol our borders and ensure we know well in advance if any host approaches unwelcome.” Ser Derrium Daring pressed his hand to his heart, resolved to prevail against any odds. “I swear my lady, while I still draw breath you and your children will be safe in this castle, and we shall drive all comers from Peake lands. I need only your permission, and I shall take full command and prepare Starpike and the other castles for the storm and we shall defy it.”

	“Go and act as you see fit Ser Daring.” Antonie spoke, her voice shook and she felt a tremble in her hands. She wished again that her husband would return. In his presence she felt safe, in his grim stoic way he remained a reassuring figure. Even if he did little in providing words of comfort. Here at Starpike and its skeleton garrison she felt alone and vulnerable despite the high walls and mighty towers. Ser Derrium soon departed, intent on fulfilling his promise in shoring up the defenses of Starpike and Dunstonburry. He was a good man, a dedicated servant, and a skilled warrior, but he was not Gormon. The Lady of Starpike’s heart ached, and she wiped away the tears that threatened to fall unbidden. She hugged her son and daughter closer and longed for home and peace again.