AtomicNut

Crescendo of Steel and Magic: An Isekai genre RP

Well there, this should be clear enough.

Crescendo of Steel and Magic: An Isekai genre RP

So @VitaVitaAR do I need to change anything or...

Crescendo of Steel and Magic: An Isekai genre RP

Okay, that took less than anticipated.

Edit: Gah, forgot backstory, editing!

Edit2: Done.

Crescendo of Steel and Magic: An Isekai genre RP

I DO THE WIZARD

• Name: Sigfried Sasbach, Imperial Mage
• Age:19
• Gender:Male
• Race: Hooman
• Original Appearance:Back in the day he was a rather plump, tall scientist with a skin condition and thick glasses. He had blue eyes and black hair. He usually wore crumpled clothes and had a slight hunch in his posture, a product of many hours using computers.
• Current Appearance: Still a wet noodle though.
• Personality: Siegfried is a rather melancholic and jumpy individual. With an alarming lack of self esteem, product of years and years of frustrations and poor social interactions, he more than often crumples and apologizes more often than not. Barring that, he is clearly driven by the passion he once had in life: Science. Somehow, this has bleed out to his newfound competence in magic. He also has a surprisingly resilient moral code and values honesty, despite his overall timidity. He is also a huge nerd.
• Brief Backstory: Once a mortal man who dedicate his life to science, the man who would later be known as Sigfried was in the middle of a life crisis, when he realized he wasnt getting any younger and he had used Social skills as dump stat, basically. Sure, the allure of science was good and great, but in the end mediocrity set in, and he wondered what he was doing typing a simulation in a computer at 2 AM in the morning for an experiment barely anyone cared to begin with. To say that he yearned for a second chance was an understatement.
  
  Still, when said second chance arrived and begun to live his life as Siegfried after melding with his memorie, he found much to his chagrin he ended up doing the same thing he had done in his previous life. Yet, he could not bear himself to stay away from science and progress, and the fact that he could now set things on fire with the power of his mind only increased his interest in the subject. He had a bit of better looks this time. Also magic. That kind of was a neat thing. He ended up being conscripted by Grandia though, as it was the only people with enough funding to do research around.
• Abilities:
  
  • Magic: The ability to do stuff out of thin air. Sigfried seems to be particulary talented at this regard, and he has little trouble conjuring the lightning element. He has a basic knowledge on other elements (the basic projectiles and stuff), as well as knowing how to decently create barriers and simple sigils. He also has taken effort in learning a bit of basic healing. However, being a novice Imperial Mage, he can't do much more than the file-and-rank recruit mages...yet.
  • Bookworm: As a scientist, he was always ahead of the norm when it came to learning and processing complex and abstract concepts (specially Physics), as well as being able to learn new technological and magical disciplines quickly.
• Skills:
  
  • Science!: Siegfred attained a Physics degree in his former life, and boy, is he making use of it ever (well maybe not, given this world having magic and whatnot). Besides the knowledge in said field, this has allowed to actually use the scientific method in other disciplines, such as chemistry or magitech, and thus crank out innovations and employ lateral thinking.
  • Waifu Making:How did this one get in here? Automaton Crafting: He is able to create basic servant automatons, with a female shape. He is likewise able to repair them. Don't ask.
  • Basic Military training: He can shoot his own pistol and stuff. He still has the physical shape of a wet noodle however.
• Equipment: His Imperial Outfit, A gun, Basic magic implements, a diary, booze shots.
• Origin: Our World

Crescendo of Steel and Magic: An Isekai genre RP

Hrm. Interesting.

Age Of Rising Horrors

Think i have hit a roadblock. Sorry bur i wont be joining it in the end i guess.

Age Of Rising Horrors

Name: Prince Theodoric of Dalacia (as a mortal) /The Red Knight

Species: Vampire

Gender: Male

Age: 820

Appearance: The Red Knight lives to its namesake. It is a relic of a forgotten era, where men were clad in plate and wars were fought on honor. An era of warring monarchs and noblesse obligue. He is rather tall and imposing, his old and battered red armor, bearing the ravagings of a thousand battles augments his bulk, and hides a chiselled physique. His helmet is shaped in the form of a lion's head, its factions contorted in a fierce growl. If one were to see him without his armor, it would reveal the pale skin of a vampire, as well as a fair face with a chiselled jawline, even though his eyes would be sunken and his dark irises would show no joy. His hair would also be neatly tied in a ponytail, and he would possess small beard.

Noble House: N/A, Renegade

Personality: Theodoric used to be a kind, responsible prince who more often than not had a low opinion of himself. While he tried to do his best, and tried to apply a degree of wisdom to interact with others, he suffered from self-esteem issues. Shy and withdrawn, Theodoric was not a people's person, and while he was cunning and well-read enough to lead men and attend courtly matters, normal social interactions were beyond him. Idealizing the figure of a king-philosopher, he always sought to achieve the four cardinal virtudes (prudence, fortitude, justice and temperance). After his kingdom fell and he became a vampire, he became more withdrawn and aloof than he ever was, and his self-doubt was replaced by a strong drive to fight the ever advancing ruin in the world. He became stoic, and prone to endure all kinds of physical and emotional pain. But no matter how accursed he felt, and how badly he was wounded, up to this day he still yearns for justice and the salvation of mankind, even if he, as a vampire, must die for the realization of such dream. He does not prey on humans as much as he can help it, and tries to only drink blood that is given willingly, even if it means long periods of starvation.

Theodoric rarely talks about his past, although he feels tremendous remorse and guilt by the events that allowed his kingdom to fall. He killed his own vampirized sister and burned the capital with his own hands so that the few remaining humans could live on without being hunted by his fellow noblemen turned vampires. Ever since, he has wandered, trying in vain to right the wrongs in the world.

Speciality: Master-at-arms (Sword, Lance and knightly weapons), Horse riding, History and Military Tactics, Shadow and Fire manipulation.

Weapons: The Red Knight only owns one weapon, the ancient sword known as Entelecheia, which he found in an ancient tomb. Said blade was forged with the ores of the heart of a fallen star, whom endured the vast cold of cosmos as well as the fire of the astral bodies. Even after thousands of years, it is still as sharp as it was when it was forged, and it is a blade notorious for its resilience. No weapon or magic has ever dented it. For that very reason it is also impossible to enchant with magic, and indeed, the Red Knight himself suspect no mortal hands forged it.

Magic: Fire and Demon magic, both as enchantment and as a projectile.

City: Wanderer

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

King's Landing(with @MrDidact and @kingkonrad)

After the supper, Alester was ponderous. So many things had happened in so little time, and so reflexion and more planning was due and needed. He had barely looked at his book of parchments recently, so the first thing he did was review the accounts he had shown Merlin and made some predictions. He would have probably to send a raven or so before leaving King's Landing. He sighed, leaning against the dusty table surrounded by a pile of books, with a beam of potent light prying away from an high window of the library into his table. He was rather simply dressed, and somewhat groomed, but he had the shuffling and wandering characteristic of an scribe rather than a noble.

He eyed the rare "Lives of Four Kings" exemplar he had found out. Always a good a reference for ruling, as he had given yet another brief lecture to keep the lessons fresh. But there were more concerns pressing his mind. The way Willas reacted on the news of the Reach and the way Glennmore had show him the decapitated monster head, knew he had to gather another kind of information. That of the occult and arcane. Those beasts were made by others, or they could be slain. If only the samples weren't so few and in incomplete... it would take a colossal effort to sort them out. But it did not hurt to try. For the sake of the Reach and Westeros.

"Mmm." He mumbled, his limbs starting to getting heavy and his eyelids weighing like lead. The monotony was sinking in at last.

"I always found the prose riveting myself." Alester heard a voice and he would turn to see Prince Jahaerys, thirdborn son of Jon and Daenerys, his stormy grey eyes looking into Alester's. With the Prince was one of the Kingsguard and a big, burly young man who had dark hair and eyes and a mouth made for wide smiles. The Prince nodded, "Greetings, my lord. We met at dinner, but we didn't get much of a chance to talk. This is Sam Snow, the Grandmaester's son. Ser Wex Pyke is guarding me as faithfully as ever. What brings you here?"

Alester blinked twice, before jolting slightly and offering the best salute he could "My Prince!" He exclaimed as he scrambled."i...uh, was reaping the benefits of being a guest of King's landing, when it comes to perusing written works. Few libraries are as big as this one, my prince. And it nevers does bad to extend one's knowledge."

Jahaerys nodded, "Indeed. My father has collected an impressive library. Only dwarfed by the Citadel's. I know almost every tome on these shelves, if not by content, then by name and subject. What do you seek, Lord Alester? What knowledge would you have?"

"Anything that would help me be a better a lord. The Lives of past rulers. The descriptions of tactics that foes might use. Specially those ones that are on the rise." Alester said, without describing much detail. "The seven Kingdoms are experiencing quick changes these days, and It would do well to try and anticipate them."

The Prince smiled, "Politics eh? Politics are so dreary. But if you want, there are extensive treatises on the reign of every king from Aegon to Tommen and of all the kings that came from the kingdoms beforehand. They're still writing my father's. Every scheme and plot, that we know of, committed to paper. This one series, by Maester George, is particularly illuminating on the events of my father's day. They're all in the histories section."

"I shall look into it at some point, my Prince." He simply nodded. He restrained himself, had he been a man of lesser station he would not have appreciated the prodding in which he was subject. The sensation of being watched was ever-present in King's Landing. "Admittedly, if I was in top shape, I would be sparring a little more aswell. No lack of talent in the seat of the Targayens. Alas, the capture of the Gardener pretender was not without hitch, and the Grand Maester was ...insistent about resting." He tried deflecting the situation, as he begun to rearrange and sort the perused books.

Jahaerys smiled sympathethically, "Yes, I heard about your daring adventure. My congratulations on your success. Those pretenders have been causing no small amount of concern here. And you must excuse, Samwell. He knows what is best when it comes to medicine. Perhaps when you feel better, you can join myself and my companions. You'll find quite a few talented fighters."

"I look forward to, but I might return to my keep instead, my Prince. After all, this travel was not planned in advance, and my sister's pout would reach all the way to here if I do not offer her some solace." Alester said. "However, I am flattered by the attention. A mere vassal of the Tyrells like me can only address the crown in counted ocassions."

Jahaerys chuckled, "A shame, I had hoped to see how you fared against Aemon Rayder.I hope you change your mind. If your sister could be sent for, I'm sure she'd like it in the capital as well," he smiled once more, "Don't be so modest. You are a high lord with a proud name. Not some landed knight from the Stony Shore. Men of your standing are always welcome here. My father has always had a sympathy for supporters of Stannis besides."

Alester frowned. "Guess there is no point in hiding it, if you yourself are interested my prince. I had hoped to keep my sword skill a little less known. As for my sister...hmm, your father offered me the same. It is worth considering." He paused. "Stannis. Heh. Yes, his shadow looms over my house, for Selyse was our kin. At the very least, the norther battles made us a bit more hardened to endure these years of recovering our household." He added, as he finished placing his book. "But power is so fragile, it only takes a stupid decision and moment to ruin it all..."

Jahaerys leaned on a nearby wall, "Oh there are already tales spreading through the city from the peasants who accompanied you. They say Lord Alester is a frightening warrior who wears a foxskin, has the eyes of a fox, and fights with the strength and speed of ten men combined. " He chuckled.

"I can see at least the bit about the eyes is untrue. Well, as for power, I find that small moments can ruin houses, and so can long periods of incompetence. My great-grandfather ruined our House, and my grandfather could have made much better decisons. Don't discount small moments for the longer ones."

"But your house is on the rise, thanks to you. The Florent name is on many lips again."

"No, thanks to my father. The real cause of his death is not widely known... but it was exertion, my Prince. He gave perhaps too much effort to rebuild the house, all while others watched and bickered." Alester paused. "If I do not commit myself to a similar level, I am not worthy of bearing his surname." He paused. "Also, I know that I am not the most handsome man of Westeros, but jeez, I am not that frightening. Or am i?" He jested.

Jahaerys smirked, "I've seen far uglier men my Lord, I think you look rather respectable. But you know how smallfolk are prone to their fancies. As for your father, he was a hard-working man, tis true. But if you speak accurately, this was the death of him. You are yet young, I would caution you not to commit the same mistakes and sacrifice yourself. There are ways to rule without burning oneself out. My parents have handled it admirably so far."

"Perhaps is because without mother, my father did simply not know when to stop. I suppose I should see to stop being single." He pondered. "I've taken steps in that regard, but so far progress is slow." He admitted, awkwardly.

Jahaerys spread his hands, "You are a very eligible bachelor my lord. Lord of a High House. Prestigious bloodline. And you are rich to boot. I'm sure you'd find several houses willing to make a match. And, there are many beautiful, unmarried women here at court. Some of my companions among them. Perhaps I can introduce you sometime."

"Uh...well, I already had talks with other Reach houses and eh." Alester's somber face quickly fell apart, the topic being one of his banes. And he couldn't make exactly public the agreement he had with Willas Tyrell yet, so he tried his best to reign his words in.

The Prince smiled knowingly, "Say no more, my lord. It's none of my business. Though I must say, there will be some disappointed women. Lady Stokeworth has been trying to marry off her youngest for quite some time now."

"But I wish you well with the nuptials. I enjoy being a bachelor myself, I'm glad my lord father isn't pushing me to get hitched quite yet. Though mother has been making overtures. Ever since Aemon got married, she's itching to make another match and have even more grandchildren. The woman is insatiable."

"Well, I dont think I will get married anytime soon. The father has been a bit stubborn in that regard." He paused. "Probably in a couple of years if i last." He confided the prince. "Fear not my prince. My sister is 10 and the only other woman of marrying age is a red haired fire priestess i would rather keep in the Dorne Campaign." He jested. "I don't pity you, my Prince. I have said 10 year old conspiring to get nephews, that is way worse than a nagging...queen mother."

Jahaerys laughed, "Mayhaps you are right. And mayhaps your sister may win out. I've come to fear the power young girls can wield. You should have seen my aunt Arya at that age. By all reports, she was a force of nature even then. The same may yet be true here, though I hope not in the exact same way."

"I believe you will last. You seem a hard man to break down. I wouldn't bet against you in this case."

"Well my Prince... I must confess that It is amenable talking with you. The reachmen of my age... I don't see eye to eye with some, like Ellion Tyrell. And since he's the best sword of the Reach... well, I can't avoid conversation without him popping up. I heard he was named Master at Arms. Topics ...can get get quite dull in some cases. "

"I've had a wonderful time as well. It's been a real treat, getting to know the Lord of Brightwater," Jaeherys laughed, "Ah, Ellion. I don't quite know what to think of him, but he will always have my gratitude for beating Viserys and wiping the smug smirk off of his face for once. Perhaps, we could someday see you and him compete in a bout. That should be quite a sight."

"Well that seems like Ellion already. Breaking lances and taking names." He pondered. And maidenheads. But I am sure the prince can pick that one thing on his own. "Also, you may call me Les, Prince. I do not mind and it is faster." He stated.

"Very well, Les. My friends call me Jae, you may follow suit if you wish," The Prince stood from the wall and said, "Well, Ellion is now taking names somewhere else. With my brothers and most of our companions. We ourselves could always use more conversational partners. If you wish to join us for luncheon, we'll be in the gardens. I have other matters, I must attend to." He nodded at Alester.

"Good day, my lord. I hope you find what you're looking for." The Prince and his compatriots withdrew, leaving the Fox Lord to his own devices.

"Good day, my Prince." He added as he decided to pack up. A lunch... and some socializing. He could see the use in that aswell.
-------------------------------------

Alester Florent made careful, simple steps as he was greeted by the radiance of the gardens. Having spent hours holed up in the library and his eyes used to the darker ambience, he could not help but have a pronounced squint. He nevertheless stroke a hand through his hair, eyeing the scenery. It wasn't Highgarden but it certainly didn't lose in terms of exuberance. His visage turned right and left, trying to see the signs of a social gathering of people around his age.

What he found, however, was a servant. He looked at her thoughtfully, before interrupting her task for a brief second, and asking politely, he was directed to the table of his equals, not after thanking the servant without any hint of the usual nobiliary arrogance in his voice. He looked at the assorted people, letting them be the first to greet him.

Alester found the children of the realm's mighty and powerful under an elegant terrace looking out over the sea. Julianna Lannister and her brothers were pleasantly chatting with Baela and Jahaerys Targaryen, along with Nymeria Martell, Alys Tarth and Catelyn Baratheon. Sam Snow, Vickon Greyjoy, Devan Seaworth, and several other young noblemen and noblewomen were in attendance.Alerie Tyrell sat with Tom Lannister, Alerie at least getting to know Tom's brothers a bit better, the twins both the lions that in her eyes, Tom seemed to be eclipsing a little. Scions of the most powerful houses in the kingdoms. Though their numbers were reduced somewhat since the start of hostilities, many of their number having gone off to adventure or battle. Ser Wex Pyke and Ser Josmyn Peckledon of the Kingsguard stood by.

Jaeherys saw Alester and smiled, compelling him over to sit among them. A sumptous array of food had been lain out, fruits and sweets of every descriptions alongside several roast quail and freshly baked fish. Wine and juices were in wide evidence.

"Lords, ladies, Prince, Princesses...sers." Alester said politely before taking the moment to sit in a chair besides him. Such a fine gathering. Indeed, it had been wise to follow along the whims of the prince Jaeherys. He probably would not meet half of these personalities in Brightwater or Highgarden even if years passed. It was worth even bearing to be in the presence of Alerie Tyrell and her thorns. "It is an honor to be invited to this meal." He said curtly. "I thank you, my Prince."

Jaeherys smiled and said, "The honor is all mine. I'm delighted to introduce the heroic Fox Lord to my friends," he turned to Julianna and the others, speaking loudly enough for all to hear, "This is the same Alester Florent who stopped the latest Gardener raid and took one of their leaders prisoner. A toast, to the heroism of Lord Alester."

The young nobles all raised their glasses in a toast, and drank. Julianna Lannister smiled at Alester, "I am pleased to make your acquantince, Lord Alester. It bodes well for my future as a Queen to know that Prince Aemon will have a loyal and dependable friend in you, as my good father does."

Tom Lannister stood as well, holding out his hand, "Ser Tommen Lannister, it's good you're here Lord Alester. I'm afraid the local competition is starting to get a bit stale with most of our friends gone. Clever he may be, a fighter Prince Jaeherys is not." Jaeherys smiled good-naturedly, "I'm better with a bow, thankfully."

Alerie stood by his side, quietly looking at Alester Florent, her red hair nicely composed in a fashion that would be anticipated of King's Landing, albeit with a Reachman influence that clearly put across her fair face in full view.
"Nice to meet you again, Lord Alester. It must have been a very long time ago we met. We were both far younger since I visited last." She smiled characteristically, her voice buttery and gentle as another came to attention.

Baela Targaryen inclined her head, "Lord Alester, pleased to meet you. I think you shall be the muse for my next ballad. I shall call it, the Fox Hunt. What say you?"

"Well met, Crown Princess. You have my thanks for your kind words. I regret having missed the wedding." He said to Julianna, straining himself to put his best smile despite the presence of the thorny woman. He turned his sight to Tom "Well met, young lion of the Lannister. You already cast your own radiance, Lord Heir of the Westerlands." Alester said as he shook his hand. "Alas, I can only disappoint this time." He said as with a swift motion, set apart some cloth of the neck to show the bandages over the wounds. "The maesters would kill me if I started swinging my blade too promptly again. Well, not literally." He added as he addressed the third person, Alerie Tyrell.

"Yes quite a long time, Lady Tyrell. Well met again." He paused. You conniving cruel thorny woman. I do remember that encounter well. You laughed at me. He reigned in his face, become somewhat stiff, before recomposing his smile to address the last person. Princess Baella. She was quite the charming beauty, and still so young that Alester felt like he wanted a new sister for himself.

"It will be an honor, my most fair princess. Talent in arts has always eluded me, and the times need more songs to liften the spirit" He finished.

Alerie nodded, chuckling.
"Gods, we were so young then. And now here we are, all grown up. You seem like quite the Fox now, Alester. All hansome and all. Lord of Brightwater Keep." Alerie was pleasant in her words, she wasn't flirting, but just generally being her usual friendly self.

They all sat and Julianna turned to Alester, "Oh you and Alerie knew each other? I suppose that makes sense. Your father was one of the highest Tyrell bannermen after all. Long in honor and glory."

Tom grinned as he leaned in and said, "So tell us what the beautiful Lady Alerie was like when she was a child. I wonder if she was always so charming and radiant."

Alerie kept using that honeyed voice of hers, and Alester suddenly felt the urge on his throat to gag. Bad memories were surfacing, and were rather attached to her. She had always been beatiful, true, but he, more than others knew that beyond the surface, there was other things, and not precisely nice ones. "Yes, we are grown up now, Alerie. Although I am not as handsome as you are beatiful." He added, as an afterthought. It was proper a compliment after a compliment.

"Ser Tommen, If you are trying to dig out Alerie's past, better ask herself, or do not ask at all in the presence of her friends and acquaintances. All I can say as a Reachman and as a gentleman is that she has always been quite the example of the Tyrell elegance and charm." He smirked back. Dirty laundry on Alerie? Oh he had known a few things, but he also was not foolish enough to break the pact of silence. What happened as kids, should stay as kids play.

And Alerie knew that too. Of course, she had just as much dirt on him as she did on her. It would be stupid and awkward right now, for both of them to disclose it. Alerie was already in with the clique, he wasn't. And neither wanted a scene, both mentally knew that in each other's heads. That's why he wouldn't, she quietly reminded herself mentally.

"I hope your wounds heal fast, Alester. I've seen my brother get hurt, and it never gets any easier to deal with it, when he comes in with bandages and cuts." Alerie added with her gentle demeanor, as she looked to Tom.

"We saw each other a few times when we were little, me and Alester. The Houses of the Reach tended to send their children sometimes to see the gardens of Highgarden, and I always showed them around when father let me. I'll have to do the same with you someday Tom, but I'm afraid I'm not a little girl anymore." She blushed, giggling a little as she gently wrapped her arm around him, red as a rose could be.

Tom smiled, "And aren't I glad of that," he laughed with Alester, "The lady knows I mean no malice. But sometimes, we could all use a little teasing, can't we? Lest we grow too proud and imperious. Hopefully, you'll get settled into King's Landing, my lord, and enjoy yourself." Tom bowed his head in playful contriteness.

Jaeherys raised his hands with a light smile and said, "Forgive Lord Alester, he is a man of action, and men of action often find themselves in a difficult spot when it comes to these dalliances. He'll see that ours is a more familiar kind of setting."

Baela smirked, "Oh, I'm sure the charms of our court will rub off on him eventually. Mayhaps, Alester will find his inner fox here."

"Japes have been lost on me since my father died, my princess and ser." Alester said solemny as he took a careful bite of the lunch, setting aside frugal portions as he ate carefully. "I am sorry to be ...so disappointing." He added as an afterthought washing it down with some wine."Also congratulations on your bethrodal. The Master of Coin hinted it to me, and I can see it now clearly."

Alerie nodded to Alester, knowing her father was at least somewhat able to disclose it. He was proud, and perhaps, why wouldn't he be. The mess with the Lannisters was behind them, and perhaps he was proud of her for seeing that.
"Thank you, Alester. Yes, it's been a long time coming. Tom and I have been rather....close since we first met in King's Landing. So perhaps it is the next step to bring the blood of Lannister and Tyrell together, despite perhaps what our families have had before." Alerie said, looking up at him with a warm smile.

"I hope you find Alys to be all you hoped for, Alester. As she grew older, I suppose I got on better with her than I did when we were young...but sisters are always that way when they're little! But she's my sister, and the only other sibling I have of the fairer sex. If my father thinks you'll treat her right, then so do I, and I trust she'll find you to be just as handsome as I do. She'll look after you in times good and bad. And is rather good at the harp and dressmaking , far better than I am." Alerie giggled, knowing this from her father, knowing it was a limited offer for now and only a betrothal, not an immediate marriage till Alys was old enough.

Tom held Alerie's hand and Jaeherys laughed, "It's not official yet, but already it's fast making the rounds of the castle. I suspect we can hear an announcement sometime soon."

Julianna rest her chin on her hand and looked at Jaeherys, "And when can we expect an announcement for yourself? I think it's long past that you were wed, good brother."

"You and my mother both. Ha, well, for the moment, I enjoy my sovereignty."

Baela giggled, "Oh I'm sure you do," the princess looked at Alester, "Alys Tyrell? A quick match. I had thought you a bachelor, Lord Alester. I'm sure the women of the city will be severely disappointed now."

"Fret not, Alerie. She will always be the fairest and better sister in my eyes, and I shall see to it accordingly." Alester replied, as he took another piece of food. "I have not know the prince Jaeherys for long, but I was fortunate to met his lover. Once." He deadpanned as he eyed his cup. Almost empty.

"And I am sorry I am being a disappointment in gossipping. However since it is a bethrodal which I wish to make to bring stability and peace of mind and in my land, I have little room to margin." Alester's eyes went directly to Baela. "Although i will not say no to a princess, even if I risk making house Tyrell a bit... inconvenienced."

Jaeherys smirked, "Oh if you had seen me with a lover, you must have eyes just like a fox, a bewitched or confused one at any rate. Though that doesn't seem in evidence. As everyone knows, I am steadfast in the celibate demands of chivalry." Baela rolled her eyes and laughed.

The Princess tapped her finger against her lip in mock thought, "And who said I asked, Lord Alester? Do you think yourself the only man in King's Landing who is a good prospect? Oh, Ser Wex has to beat off most of them with a stick. The hazards of being a Princess, I suppose. Father is content to let me remain unmarried, despite whatever I may desire."

Tom sat back and held Alerie's hand in his, "Oh I must disagree, my lord. There are no roses as bright and pleasant as Alerie Tyrell. Were you not injured, one might be tempted to demand satisfaction," he smiled to let Alester know he was joking.

"Father certainly did speak of this happening, Tom." Alerie giggled, joining in with Tom, as she shook her head, looking across to Alester once more.
"I imagine whatever the case, what my father proposed is open to you. I mean, if the Princess did open her heart up...not many would blame you, Alester! It is up to you, my friend. But I'm sure, Baela, some day a man will come and sweep you off your feet. He may not have a dragon to help, but he'll certainly be someone special indeed." Alerie said, aware she got on with Baela and the others well, letting either of them reply.

"Well, Ser Tommen, nobody would blame you for doing that. After all if you win all you beat is a cripple, and if you are defeated, you bring the shame of being defeated by a cripple. Not a lot of honor to gain, there." He shrugged, as he decided to answer Tom first. His eyes then went to Baella. "Well, I can't beat people in looks. So whoever gets married to me will look absolutely stunning in contrast, princess. And now that you say it, it is small wonder you have so many at your doorstep, what with the free lessons of Ser Wex." He responded Baela, leaving Jaeherys for last as he put a total serious expression.

"It is an utter disgrace that the prince fell into the clutches of that vile woman. She seduces men of all kinds, and leads them astray. She has worked with so many heirs and idle noblemen before I cannot even fathom. Alas, the prince is in the evil clutches of the one Called Life, first name Good." He finished. How is that for a jape, Jaeherys?

Tom smirked, "Indeed, luckily enough you can avoid the shame of being beaten by someone a few years younger than you for a few more weeks yet."

Baela laughed, "Oh, what can I say. It seems men get all kind of notions into your heads when women and honor are at stake. Though, I suppose even honor yields to the former. Although, truth be told, I always thought it such a shame that Cat's brother or Alys' brother were unmarried." Said young knights being absent at the moment, due to needs of state.

Jaeherys smiled, raising his glass, "And what a fine mistress she is. One, I take to with vigor and a complete lack of shame." Julianna giggled at the back and forth and drank some lemonsweet.

Alerie chuckled, as she nodded to Baela, knowing what Ellion was like.
"Ah, Ellion is rather....fickle. Seems to never be sure what he wants. But I'm sure someday someone will tame him, or he'll find something he wants more than anything. Merebelle seemed rather infatuated with him, and him with her, but I cannot see it last. He needs a fire. Or, just a duty really." She mused, as she joined in with drinking the same as Julianna, giggling a little at Jahaerys being...well, himself, as she turned back to Baela.

"He is what he is, I suppose.." She added, not really having to say too much about her brother.

"I wonder if he would like to trade places with me. I would surely love an easy life without obligations." Alester mused as he shook his head. As much as thorny Alerie was, Ellion's attitude rubbed him wrong the most. He eyed Tommen Lannister as he shrugged. "There is little shame in accepting defeat to one's better, Ser Tommen. My teacher told that much to me. Granted he wasn't Jaime Lannister." He conceded. "But, given the fact that you probably will keep me egging the whole time I will spend in King's Landing, and given the fact we might become linked to the Tyrells, I shall not allow you to go empty handed." He paused as he stood up and grabbed an apple with his hand. "Plus Prince Jaeherys introduced me as man of action. I would hate to leave him as liar."

"May I be so kind of perusing a sword? I shall show you a little party trick I use to delight people." He paused, making a mental check. If it is just this much, it is probably fine

Baela said, "Ellion, settling down? That'll be the day. It'll take a very rare girl to make him sit still. Mayhaps we ought to bring back polygamy for his case," Baela and Julianna traded humorous glances at that. Tom stood and handed his own sword around his belt to Alester, "Go ahead, my lord. I'm rather curious what you would show us."

Alester nodded, as he gripped the blade, and spun it a few times. "Tis a fine steel." He said, praising it. And then, making sure nobody was in his vicinity and allowing him some breathing room, hoisted the apple in midair. Two swift, precise cuts diced the apple in nearly perfect quarters as the apple dropped to the ground, his style being reminiscent to that of the Reach, and similar to Ellion Tyrell in that regard.

"My sister loves this trick. I always perform it so she can be reassured before a fight. Now considering this is just a trick, and I am wounded at that... if you cannot do this much, Ser Tommen, I do not think any of us will gain insight by crossing our blades due the difference of skill." He paused, touching his shoulder. It was sore, but it had not reopened yet. He handed the sword back graciously as he sat again.

Baela and Julianna clapped their hands appreciatively and Jaeherys nodded in admiration, "Fine swordsmanship, my lord."

Tommen stood and retrieved his sword, "Indeed a fine trick. But you need not doubt my sword arm." He held the blade in a classic one-handed Westermen stance, similar to his uncle. Jaeherys threw an apple up in the air and Tommen slashed his sword in quick, clean cuts. Four more apple pieces joined the others on the ground and the Young Lion grabbed another to bite into it, "It seems we are evenly matched in this regard, my lord. We need not fear an uneven contest at any rate."

He threw the apple up, tossed out his dagger and hit it right where he took a bite, slamming it into a nearby pillar, "Or mayhaps we do." He sat back down with a friendly smile, taking his knife and cutting more fruit, offering a slice to Alerie.

Alerie giggled, shaking her head with a little blushing laughter, as she took the apple slice and bit from it, clearly impressed by both.
"Crikey, you two having fun with swords?" Alerie giggled, as she gently hugged Tom, nodding at him and hoping he'd take it on the chin.
"A fine display, if I must say so. I imagine it comes with much practice. A needle's precision with the force of a blade." Alerie added to both of them, her voice still as smooth as ever, kindly and not aggressive or rising up, a calming one almost that bridged.

Alester had not said a thing, nor he had moved. Instead he had paid attention to each subtle shift and move of the Young Lion, as he watched the boy replicate his feat. Of course he was really smug about it, but it was to be expected. Unlike the lad, Alester had suffered defeat before, to the hands of Ellion Tyrell no less, so he took no heed of the further one-upping of his swordmanship, merely noting that, even if he lost to a 15 year old, he would grow and learn with the battle. One step at a time to keep honing his abilities. "Struggling against uneven odds is how one grows and matures, ser Tommen. It shall be an honor to cross swords with you, and learn something in the process." He furthered. He fumbled around for a fresh drink, after the display. "I am sure you and ser Ellion will get along just fine." He added as an afterthought.

Tom raised his glass, "I hope so. I intend to marry his sister after all. But I have no cause to think otherwise. I look forward to our bout as well," Tom snuggled up to Alerie and stroked her hand, "With my lady's favor, there is no chance the gods will see me defeated."

Jaeherys laughed, "Enough talk of fighting for the moment I think. There will be enough of that for the forseable future. The food is getting cold, and I would hate to waste it. By your leave good sister?" Julianna nodded with a smile and they began to dig into the food, the conversation becoming more lighthearted and of no consequence as they traded stories and gossip while eating the best the city had to offer.

Alerie nodded to Jaeherys, agreeing to that as she sipped a little honeywine down.
"We shall have to see, my Lion." Alerie added, gently kissing him on the cheek, allowing Tom to keep her close, as she finished her cup, before returning to the food.

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

The Tower Cell

Willas had made his decision, to head down to the tower, after being told that Owen was ready to be seen to by the Tyrell Lord. And he had suffered a little, apparently. Not like he was in the Black Cells, but a little to be convinced of his situation. Heading up the steps, he saw the pair of Gold Cloaks standing by the door, his own Tyrell retinue of two men following closely by, as the two Gold Cloaks knew they were expecting Willas.and slowly made their way up to him.

"You're here to see the prisoner?" One asked, as Willas nodded.
"Alright. You have your time. Your guards go back down the stairs from here. We will be outside." They sternly reminded, as Willas heard them open the strong door, the noise of Owen inside held by the chains he was bound by gently audible. They stood aside, as Willas walked in, seeing the man that was Ser Owen Gardener lie on the straw bed he had been left, looking at the man walking in. The guards kept the door open, and Willas took him in again.

"I suppose I don't have to make an introduction. Save your insults, if you had any. I can probably play what you want to say in your head right now in mine." Willas said with a stern conviction, as he walked in further into the cell, taking him in. He was weak, but his looks weren't fading quick.

"We're both Reachmen, and you know what you want to say. I imagine what I'll say won't be what you're expecting. I know that you won't spill anything about your brother because like any good man, you care for your family." Willas said, awaiting his response as he leaned against the wall.
"Tell me that's true. That it's one reason you have."

Owen, dressed in a plain shift, sat up on his straw bed and regarded Willas evenly, "I expected this meeting for some time. Their graces have already visited, and so have the King's sisters. A formidable lot to be sure. But they have heard little and less from me."

"You're right. I won't betray my brother. As such, my lord, unless you wish to discuss the latest fashion trends or mummer plays, I don't know if there is much for us to discuss. You may be Master of Coin, an educated man, Lord Tyrell, but I sincerely doubt that you'll be able to get anything out of me when the Stark sisters haven't yet. But if you wish to ask questions, ask away. I shall not answer as necessary."

"No, you don't need to. And I heard as much. They seem to be very interested in someone like yourself then. Makes you a very good liar...or a very good threat." Willas mused, as he walked to another spot, leaning against the wall.
"Either way, you respect him, clearly. That's good. I do with mine. Even with some of the things we disagree on, we always have to, for the good of the family. It's a common trait of anyone who wants to do the thing that they believe in the most. Family, honour, bravery. The moment one pillar falls, the rest follow. The moment you let go of one, the rest will fuck you up, piece by piece." Willas added with a biting curse, as he watched Owen, looking for something to give away, as he shrugged.

"But, I digress. Why talk about things we both know too much of...well, apart from one thing. I've got something for you." Willas said, as he headed to the door, one of the guards leaving a small jug with one of the Gold Cloaks, as well as a couple of goblets. Taking them with him as he went back in again, he put one aside by Owen's side, and poured, pouring his own as he gave a good sip.

"You don't have to drink it right now, because you won't spill your tongue even if I forced you to drink it. We're not animals with wine, Seven Hells, there's a circle in hell for people who don't appreciate good wine and drink too quick, as my friend Tyrion would say. And if there was poison in it, you'd either think me a bufoon, a moron or suicidal. But enjoy it. It's not cheap crap, either." He added, sipping down a bit more himself, knowing Owen would see that clear. If this was a bribe, that it was. Willas didn't care either way. It wasn't to him. It was a little generosity, if he was in the same place, he'd want wine.

"Anyway, whatever you know, it doesn't interest me. If it did, I wouldn't need to even be here, because I'd get whatever use is needed. They'd torture you blind, literally, but I think better than that. What I am interested in, is something else." Willas said, looking blank, before back at him again.
"You killed a bunch of civilians in your attack, I heard. People of the Reach you're trying to rally." Willas simply asked, neutral in his question, awaiting a response, if any.

Owen took the goblet and drank a sip, savoring it, "Arbor red. Good year. I thank you. I suspect your royal overseers wish to coax me with gifts to come but I am in the early stages yet, and the fare has been lacking. I wouldn't expect you of any such action as poisoning Willas. It is the weapon of cravens or women, and you are an honorable man, by all accounts."

The Gardener put down the cup and his eyes seemed to drop to the floor before he spoke with Willas, "Those deaths were unfortunate. But they were not my aim. And sad though it is, such casaulties are unavoidable when we nobles play our games. How many smallfolk died when your house cut off supplies to King's Landing in the War of Ten Graces? Smallfolk die, I do not seek their deaths, but victory comes at a cost."

Owen drank another sip of wine, "Give my compliments to Lord Redwyne."

Willas listened, nodding as he smirked.
"I shall when I see him next. I imagine if I was in your positon right now, I'd expect someone to do the same for me, so don't call it anything. Not sure how far I'd get with that. A naiive thing, perhaps. But it is what it is." He added, his observations close, and taking it in throughout.
"Same as smallfolk, really. It's nobody's choice. Not unless you really wanted to see the world burn. You know that much." Willas replied, looking back straight at Owen.
"Costs you're willing to bear, it seems though. A cause you believe in." Willas was open, very much so. It could have taken almost any interpretation to it.

Owen put the goblet down and said, "We don't want the Reach to burn. We see the troubles afflicting it. And we want better for our people. To have the true blood of the Green Hand sitting on the seat of Highgarden once more. And for that, I would give my own life to see a Lord Gardener sitting on our ancestor's seat."

"Victory at any cost, Willas. All revolutions must be conducted as such. For great gains cannot be won without great sacrifice. I expect your house will do the same, as they have done. How else do you think they came to power in the first place? Who was it who convinced King Mern to ride out to battle with all his heirs while they sat behind at home? Who shared his blood and used that to rise to power? We seek to right that wrong."

Willas nodded, taking it in. It was a nicely put way of saying it. And it had some truth. Strangely, he could see that, but he just didn't share that point of view. Neither would many. The mere fact that they were riding out in the first place perhaps reminded them that they were the idiots would would even dare fight three enormous dragons, let alone win. Owen was driven by his convictions, he could see that much right there.

"I see. I mean, there's plenty more than just that. Perhaps you didn't deserve that seat if you were foolish enough to fight dragons, or would have just been bored of watching keep after keep burn, vassal after vassal turn, so you took the advice of glory anyway." Willas said, with a certain charm in his voice, as he shook his head.

"That happened three hundred years ago. In that time, the Targaryen dynasty has gone from boom, to bust, to boom. The world nearly was destroyed as we know it by a threat far more terrifying than a revolutionary, because the dead and the living were all that mattered for a moment of our time. If you don't think I don't know what House Tyrell did, I would be a ignorant fool. But then again, all of the families of the Seven Kingdoms seemed to trick or break their way into power, unless you're the Starks or Arryns, of course. And we seemed to do well." Willas added, watching him for a response.

Owen smirked sourly, "Yes, power is gained somehow. Diplomacy, trickery, or war. It is the way of things. Every great house has climbed the ladder and played the game. The Tyrells played it well. But now we're playing once more. From the ashes, new growth is strongest. And there will be a Gardener in Highgarden once more. Even if it takes years."

"Then it shall be a good game, Owen. They won't hurt you, or torture you further here, not to anything unacceptable. There's men in the Reach who'd enjoy nothing more than that till you are kept alive by a string. Perhaps the same to me. But alas, let's not talk about horrible things. You have wine there and it's going unused." Willas replied, nodding.
"It was good talking to you, Owen Gardener. You're a rather interesting character indeed. We'll have to see how your growth goes." With it, Willas took his stick, and left the room, leaving him with the wine on the floor, and the goblet behind. He walked out, as the guards looked on a little confused.

As he left, Owen smiled and drank some more wine.

"He's got wine, so he'll sleep well tonight. I know you're not allowed, so thanks." Willas said, as one of the guards nodded.
"Noted." The reply was simple, as Willas headed down the staircase quietly, and away from the Tower Cell. He had his answers for what he needed, of what kind of person he was dealing with. The kind that would help him better set up his plans, and he knew it would not be alone if he wanted to help stamp out the menace in his own Kingdom.

Game of Thrones : The Pact of Ice and Fire (Always Open)

King's Landing(with @MrDidact and @kingkonrad)

The journey finally met its end, and Alester let the reins of his new horse loose for a brief second. The gargantuan sprawl of King's Landing, crowned by the Red Keep, was laid before his eyes. He had been a few times in the city, but it never failed to impress, the seat of power of the Targayens in the Seven Kingdoms. He uttered a small prayer to the Seven, thanking his luck to arrive at the city.

After all that happened in the reach, the travel had been somewhat restless, his paranoia acting up after the ambush. If the so-called Gardener spoke true, he was the brother of the Gardener pretender, and great wrath could be invoked in a second scuffle. Alester was courageous and he knew his way with the sword... but he knew better than to desire such heated battles. He patted his dented armor, as he shifted on the seat. It had been a closer call than he had cared to admit.

"King's Landing, ser Owen." He said to his prisoner, whom in deference, he had tried to treat him as a noble hostage, being the commander of the soldiers he had captured. His eyes met with him.

"Get a good look, It will be probably be a good silver lining upon the situation." He said, as he eyed the Goldcloaks and the other bannermen that had joined. He advanced slowly, trying to figure out, whom would greet him and his comitive, as the surviving merchants were making plans to sell their wares. He rustled his cape somewhat. It had been a bit torn since the battle but it was still serviceable. A good fox pelt. Like the ones he had carefully packed as gifts for the newlyweds, just in case.

Ser Owen stared at the city in open awe, watching as one of the dragons wheeled above it with a roar, "I've never seen the city or palace myself. But I have heard the tales. It is magnificent. If only I could visit it under better circumstances."

At the gates to the city, they saw a delegation approach. In the lead were several knights and lords in armor with their banners flying. Alester could see the Mormont Bear, the black ship and onion of House Seaworth, and the bldody spear of House Slynt. Leading the procession were Ser Jorah Mormont, Ser Devan Seaworth, and Lord Commander Morros Slynt of the Gold Cloaks. Once the party arrived, it was the middle-aged Ser Jorah who spoke, "Lord Alester, well met. We were expecting you. The Queen and the King are awaiting you in the throne room with some of the Councillors."

Jorah glanced at Owen, "I suppose this is the prisoner, the Knight Inquisitor spoke of? We can take him into our custody if you like. Then we can go on to the Red Keep, after finding lodgings for your men."

"Well met, sers." He addressed curtly, before he looked at ser Owen. "Well, ser Owen. I come to regret we met in these circumstances, but you shall be in good hands. These people are from reputable houses." He addressed his prisoner. "Ser Owen ...Gardener, as he calls himself is a man of honor and has surrendered. He has not tried to escape either. Please see to his commodities as a man of his...chivalry should be." He said without skipping a beat. "As for the lodgings, I thank you. Please see to it. I shall also meet the Queen immediately. I will not make a queen wait for a comfy bed." He addressed Ser Jorah.

Ser Jorah nodded and inclined his head to Morros, who had his men take Ser Owen into custody. The Gardener knight looked back, with a nod and a small humorous smile, "An honor to make your acquantice my lord. Mayhaps you will put in a good word for me to their graces." They left and Ser Jorah said, "Fear not, he will be treated well. There is a tower room in the Red Keep for him, in deferrence to his birth and station. He will be settled there before the monarchs call upon him. Follow me, to the throne room."

The rest of the group rode forward through the streets of King's Landing, smallfolk pointing out the battle-scarred Fox Lord as he rode by. They ascended Aegon's High Hill and were let into the Red Keep, Devan Seaworth peeling off to see to the lodging of the Florent men. The rest dismounted and Jorah and his men escorted Alester to the doors of the throne room. Armed men were in ample evidence, the guard being tripled since the attack on the Keep, men with the Stark and Targaryen livery rubbing shoulders with Gold Cloaks and men of several other houses.

Ser Jorah led the way into the throne room and a Knight Herald pounded his scepter. Several nobles were in the galley but it was a quiet day with no petitions. Seated on the thrones were the King and Queen, looking as regal and impressive as ever. The Herald said, "Lord Alester Florent, Lord of Brightwater Keep!"

Jorah bowed to the regents and bent the knee, motioning for Alester to do the same. King Jon was the one to speak. He didn't smile or frown and looked on calmly, "Lord Alester, welcome to the city. We missed you at the wedding, but you have my condolences for the death of your father. I also would like to thank you for the men you have committed to the action in the Red Mountains. Your loyalty is appreciated, my lord."

Queen Daenerys said, "We understand you come to us with tidings? How goes the campaign against these Gardener upstarts?"

Willas was in the hall, of course, the raven regarding the capture was of worth and importance to him, and he wanted to see it for himself, though he knew the prisoner would not be brought in as of yet. Alerie was not present, given she was away attending to other matters, but Willas was. Alester Florent, the man who had captured Ser Owen Gardener, the apparent. Merlin had placed his trust well, Willas guessed. He watched on, standing in the background, at the front of the nobles, looking on as he let Alester speak for himself. He would have a word with the Lord soon. After all, he would want to discuss matters his son's new ally.

Alester, almost inmediately bent his knee, crossing an arm over his chest, like a knight would, his head lowered. "Your graces." He saluted courteously. "I thank you for such kind words, given the state of affairs." He added, before pulling a parcel that he had been carrying all the way to the throne room, presenting them before the Royals. "Please accept these fox capes as late wedding gift for the Prince and his spouse. I had poachers and tanners running after foxes for months to produce the best quality." He said without much fanfare, indicating the gift to be delivered.

He cleared his throat, as he prepared to explain himself. "Yes, your grace. I bid good tidings. Thanks to the invaluable support of ser Arthur Glennmore and Lord Merlin Tyrell, we have executed a plan to draw the pretenders out and capture Ser Owen Gardener, whom he claims is the brother to the pretender himself. We have also managed to seize quite a few score of his men, in no small thanks to the effectiveness of their plan." He elaborated, deliberatedly playing down the parts where the plan had gone to hell and he had to cut through the Gardener's men until they had surrendered. Glory was enticing, but Alester knew that discretion was also wise. Specially after the so called Gardener mouthing off that rumours had spread about his sword arm.

Jon nodded, while Daenerys smiled to herself, pleased, the King said, "Well done, my lord. I must commend Ser Arthur and our friend Willas' son when the time comes, but you we can give our thanks to immediately. You have the hospitality of the Red Keep so long as you desire it, and if you wish it, I would be honored to foster any of the Florent children at the palace. I thank you on my son's behalf as well."

Daenerys then said, "This Ser Owen? Did he tell you anything about the Gardeners? Is there anything you can tell us about him that may be helpful? We will question him ourselves in due time, but any information or insight you could offer would be most helpful."

Jon nodded, "Indeed, even the smallest detail may be important. Then we can call the man himself in here."

Alester pondered for a moment, before. "Your grace, may I speak frankly?" He said to the Queen."The lad Is either an excellent mummer, or he truly believes he is a Gardener knight. He does look the part. He has also showed me signs that these pretenders have more connections in the Reach than I would have thought. He knew details about me that I tried to keep rather...discrete." He said, without missing a heartbeat. "Other than that he likes to flatter me, no doubt still hoping he may sway me. He is also skilled. Very skilled with the blade. This dent in the armor? His fault."

They both pondered that deeply with Daenerys saying, "We must find out the veracity of this blood claim, for it may be very ill if Gardeners really do live again. And if you speak of connections... then they may have spies and sympathizers throughout the Reach and the Kingdom."

Jon stroked his chin, "A skilled sword? I can see that. These pretenders have been raiding for months now, and this is the first time we've managed to capture so many alive. Tell me, do you believe him to be a schemer or a man of chivalry? In your opinion?"

"Both are not exclusive, your grace. But I do believe he is the latter type, although one can be never sure about pretenders who raid caravans." Alester pondered, letting his thoughts out. "It strikes me as being used for some purpose, rather than using others."

Jon nodded, "Very well, I suppose we shall see for ourselves. I suspect we will have to speak with him on multiple occasions, but we can get started now."

Daenerys gestured to a few guards and moments later, Ser Owen was brought in. He was out of armor, in a plain doublet with no device but was also unchained, several guards escorting him.

He stood before the throne and King Jon said, "So, you are the man who claims to be a Gardener?"

The young knight nodded and said, "It is not just a claim. It is the truth. The blood of Garth Greenhand and the Gardener Kings flows in my veins. Just as it does in Lord Alester's and Lord Willas' there." Owen made eye contact with Willas, and there was an intense look before Daenerys said, "The last Gardener king died with all of his brothers, uncles, cousins, sons, nephews, grandsons, and all of his other kin on the Field of Fire."

Owen's face became stiff and he visibly calmed and then said, "Yes, your ancestor broke the line. But our bloodline continued, and still runs strongly today, and now our name has risen once more."

Jon asked, "So you are a nobleman with a blood tie to House Gardener most like. You look much like a Tyrell of Highgarden."

Owen smiled slightly, "Rather the Tyrells much resemble the Gardeners of Highgarden. They are descended from the female line after all."

Jon waved a hand, "Be that as it may. You are as much a Gardener in blood as any other Reach Lord. Your family plotted this little ascencion by taking on a prestigious name. The question is which family. What was your given name, Ser?"

Owen shook his head, "I was not born with the name Gardener, that is true. But I earned it. And I will not betray our secrets, for I owe loyalty to my brother and my house as the rightful lords of Highgarden."

Daenerys steppled her fingers, "You would do well to talk Ser Owen. Your life will be spared and you can live in comfort if you do. The easy way. Do not make us question you more sternly."

Owen bowed his head, "Alas, I cannot. I keep my silence."

Jon said, "Very well. Guards, take him back to his room. We shall begin to question him more closely soon."

The Gold Cloaks came to place their hands on Ser Owen and march him away. Owen shared a glance with Alester and nodded his head while he delivered another significant look to Willas.

Daenerys shook her head and Jon frowned before waving a hand to the Herald. He pounded his staff and the guardsmen escorted the rest of the onlookers out so the only ones in the Throne Room were the monarchs, their advisors, their guards, and Lord Alester.

Jon turned to Willas, "What was your read on the situation, my lord? What were your thoughts, Lord Alester?"

Alester shook his head slightly, as he eyed Ser Owen part way with him. "It is as I thought, he is being used. Someone planted in his head the thoughts of glory and honor and he is being used to provoke the Reach Houses into action. These Gardeners seems to be rebels borrowing the Green Hand's sigil rather than a legitimate house." He pondered. "I wonder if his brother of his has abandoned him already." He paused. "Maybe he was a Flowers, or a descendant of one, since what he told me betrayed that he had not seen much world outside the Reach."

"...he certainly had not seen King's Landing before. Had he been of a house of certain repute he would have come to the wedding and thus would never make that one comment." He pondered.

Willas stared into Owen's eyes, as the Gardener did into his. He didn't say anything. He would have his words later. Willas was a kind, gregarious sort, he was a good man, most of all. Nobody would really be able to put much against him that he was a crooked politician who wanted chaos. He was a Lord Paramount from a Kingdom who for all looks and purposes, kept the books black and wasn't a complete asshole to people. He was friendly, and whilst not always a socialite, he was kind and well-meaning and mannered, someone to trust and know would do the best. But if he had to come to words with Owen, he would, in fact, he wantd to. He would do whatever it took to protect his Kingdom. He would be kind, friendly to some extent. But if Garlan, Ellion or Alerie were willing and even heard about this remotely, they'd have a far worse way with him. He almost didn't want that to happen, given the fact that he was a Reachman, and most likely from wat he saw, was potentially a bastard. Not an easy situation to ascertain all the facts in, none the less, but he had to give reply to Jon.

He walked out from the crowd, the Lord Tyrell walking with little limp, but still held an oak stick that proped his stance up.
"I can't say I know all the facts." Willas merely stated as he knew he had to, before turning to Jon, walking closer.
"But if I did need to amke a presumption, I'd say he was a Reachman that has blood of a Greenhand. While the Reach may have many pretty people....he seems to have blood of a noble house. Not a lowborn imposter." Lord Willas added, as he looked at Alester.

"As you say, he did a number on your plate, Lord Alester. So he certainly has his talents. That doesn't come by nature alone, albeit it helps. He had training. He had support. King Jon, if you will allow me to be frank in saying this." Willas was critical, analytical when he had to be, as he adjusted his stance, shaking his head.

"If this is an attempt to undermine the rule of the Reach, this isn't going to work. Him, or his brother....House Tyrell is the steward and rulers of a land that the Gardeners let burn under the Targaryen rule...quite literally. They let Reachmen and Westermen die in the Field of Fire, and the Gardener Kings and Princes were burnt alive for their mistakes....to fight a trio of dragons, of all things. Not for the good of any Reachman, they chose to die for their supposed honour rather than resist an invader that would burn every white castle in the lands of the Reach to conquer it....and all the peoples in it, peasant or knight, merchant or septon. Hardly a noble thing to do, it's bloody foolish and selfish. And we have ruled the lands with success...the kind that breeds stability and peace in our time, creating trade and a force for good that stands by the Iron Throne in times good and bad. House Tyrell will not capitulate a rule which has lasted three centuries and worked with House Targaryen as one of it's largest military forces and breadbaskets, not against to taunt it and die trying. Whatever threat he is, my house and order shall not lose it's hold against a set of Kings who failed in their task to protect the Kingdom of the Reach. May they exist, but find something better to do than ruling." Willas was a statesman in how he spoke sometimes the leaking of Olenna Tyrell's barbs leaking into his voice, though he was clearly beyond just quips- he spoke with a scholarly and learnered experience to do the right thing.

"I will want to speak with Ser Owen, alone if I may my King. Perhaps he will not part the tongue, but I wish to converse with him a little more. Lord Alester, you made a remarkable effort. I will speak with you in private as well. My son's trust in you was well founded, and I imagine we have much to discuss." Willas added, as he awaited both their responses.

Daenerys replied, "There are many noblemen who live out their lives without seeing the capital. That knight was a young man, so it is not unbelievable. He may be a bastard or a younger born son, or from a house with no renown beyond a name. It is too early to tell, but I have my own suspicions about who this man may be. It is clear however, that he is part of a larger plot. The Durrandons, Reynes, and Fishers arising in other corners is no coincidence."

Jon nodded, "Indeed. He seemed to have noble blood. Was trained in combat. Knew courtly manners. No lowborn, certainly. We will support you Willas of course, but we must be watchful. It is clear that someone has been providing political support and gold for their cause. And the Tyrells have ruled well for a long time, we all know this. But there will always be dissension. There are numerous nobles who think the Tyrells are upjumped stewards, as unfair and fallacious as that is. With the economic strain, uprisings, and monster attacks, this is a good oppurtunity for ambitious upstarts. We must be careful."

Daenerys continued, "The King and I will question the man, along with my good sisters. But we will allow you a private meeting Willas. But there will be guards right outside his door at all times. We need him alive. I caution you to not act rashly."

Jon smirked, "Not that we would seriously expect you to act rashly, my lord."

Willas shook his head, nodding afterwards.
"No such thing shall happen, on my honour. He fought honourably and is a man of the Reach nonetheless. It may be more for my interest and understanding, if you will. This is a direct threat to my Kingdom, after all. It'd be interesting to know his mindset." He replied honestly, as he knew that Jon and Daenerys had a point, not that he would have done so anyway. Willas was restrained, and knew nothing would come from anger after all.

"If this is a larger plot, it may be possible someting interconnects them. A transport of money, or supplies. They cannot operate alone, if they want to have a maximum destabilizing effect." Willas suggested to the two, knowing the economics a little behind a revolutionary fight, as he stood at the front of the crowd in front of the King.

"Mayhaps, my lord and graces. But above transfer of resources there will be messages rounding around, that I honestly think. There is only three.... ways it could be achieved. Ravenry, couriers...or...well...sorcery." Alester coughed as he talked forth."If we knew which, it could be intercepted. I hope ser Owen can shed light on that matter when you question him." He stod there, shifting his weight in his still kneeling position.

Jon inclined his head, "Indeed. We are pursuing multiple angles at the moment. We have received... troubling reports from the Red Mountains. If the theory that these rebels are working together is correct, then sorcerery very well may be their method of communication. I'll have the court sorcerers look into whether communications can be intercepted or tracked."

Daenerys regarded both men and said, "The bottom line is that we will need to pursue all avenues of questioning with Ser Owen. Willas you will have your chance soon. Lord Alester, I'll have Ser Jorah find you suitable accomodations. There is something we needs must discuss with Lord Willas. Pray join us for supper." Jon nodded at Alester in farewell and Jorah stepped up to see the Lord Florent out.

Jon turned to Willas and held out a raven scroll, "A report from Ser Gendry. They have taken the Spine, and the Red Mountains are almost entirely now in our control. But there's more. Read it."

Willas took the scroll, reading the scroll. What was on it, seemed rather graphic. The worst case scenario. Willas knew this couldn't be good, not for the morale of the men or the overall supply.
"Seven hells." Willas rarely took occasion to swear, as he read through, slowly offering his hand to pass it back to King Jon.
"Garlan wrote to me a few days ago, and it wasn't exactly pleasant reading back then. This is worse. They want more soldiers, far more than our replenishing stock. And something more than just what I know. Something I feel you understand better. It can be done with the coffers, but some Kingdoms are going to take a hit far more than others. If I may speak with you in private, of course I can illustrate this point a little further."

Jon nodded, rising from the throne with Daenerys following suit, "Let's discuss this in the small council chambers. I can have Sansa summoned, along with Lady Asha and Ser Jorah to discuss this. All of the other members of the council are presently engaged. You're Warden of the South, Willas, so we must talk further on this." Jon gave instructions to the royal steward and the three of them left to the council chambers. Lady Sansa, Lady Asha, and Ser Jorah soon followed suit.

Daenerys quickly repeated the situation to them all and Sansa was the first to speak, turning to Willas, "What do you propose we do? The army we have sent has suffered a few thousand casaulties, but the vast majority of the host is still intact. The Dornish and Stormlanders are keeping men in reserve in case of any attack from the Stepstones, but do you believe we should commit more men as Gendry asks?"

Willas followed close, looking across at the rest, nodding. In the absence of Tyrion, Willas knew that didn't make him the Hand. But he was the Master of Coin, and well, money spoke with a fair voice in these matters. He knew the situation well, because he was doing the accounting for it, after all.

"We have to. We have no choice. We do that, Gendry and my brother are as good as dead. The Vulture King is only going to take candence in victory." Willas added, as he shook his head.
"But that means we need to start uttilizing resources from other parts of the Kingdoms. Soldiers, officers and men with extraordinary talents that simply may not be found among Southrons. And to do that would mean of thinking this war as a smarter one, not a brute force. We can't rush them, or simply drive them out of their hovels. I'm going to suggest we consider sending a contingent of men of the Riverlands and Westerlands southward, as a new supply of soldiers. Perhaps they may not see it as their fight, that they have their own conflicts. Realistically in a time of war like this where we are fighting on two fronts, that's a big ask for our finances, and for them. But it's a fairer one than grinding more men and putting three particular Kingdoms at risk. Kingdoms that could be underequipped to fight further wars, financially and in terms of men. That doesn't bode well for anyone....so perhaps it is time to ask a fair share for a mutual benefit to everyone."

"I am not the Hand, that job is for Tyrion. But if the money is allowed to speak, as I will say, I will suggest that we don't strangle the Southern Kingdoms as hard if it is a war that may ultimately be connected to the rest of our troubles somewhat, and that intertwines everyone. All these rebels, all of this.....I know little of the occult but it seems to be a problem we all share. By taking this action, it'll keep the coffers stable, without hitting any particular Kingdoms in particular. I know that reserves in Dorne, the Stormlands and Reach must be kept, in order to preserve the peace and a backline aganist any Vulture escapees. Which leaves little other choice anyway. So that seems to be my suggestion, my Queen." Willas added, the tact of a politician with some thought put into his words, as he looked to Daenerys once more, awaiting a response.

Daenerys said, "Indeed. It is hard to deny that all of these matters are connected in at least some way, even if it is just oppurtunits taking advantage of struggle. But I do not know if it would be wise to send men away from the West and Riverlands. Neither the Vale. They are all facing their own issues. However, I can put out a call for hedge knights and free riders to join the campaign. That should give us enough men to replace who was lost without drawing more needed swords away from their homes."

Jon shook his head and said, "We can do so. But I have some six thousand Gold Cloaks right here in the city. It's time to put them to use. I'll leave a thousand here as a defense. But I will take five thousand and levies from the other Crownlander houses and we shall march with Gendry. I'll fly out on Rhaegal within the week."

Willas didn't entirely know how to react to the King, knowing he had a valid point, but he had to slow himself, consider a little more, even if it was uncomfortable. Jon was a brave and honourable King, he was probably one of the bravest men that Willas had ever had the chance to spend time with, given his history. But sometimes, even Willas knew Jon acted out of empathy, not out of logic or sound thought. He had the heart of a dragon, but it was best not to have a mind of one either. Willas only knew that was his job- to at least make him consider the implications somewhat, and he spoke without hesitation. He knew the King trusted him, it had been a number of years after all, and they were all past some formalities.

"It'll leave the city wide open. I'm no military mind, but even I can see that would leave King's Landing ripe for attack, and a thousand men may not be enough to protect it. Nor dragons, if there are some wilder beasts out there. The Gold Cloaks are not intended as an army. They're protectors of our capital, of the people of King's Landing. Not an fighting force to sit on a dusty mountainside, if I am frank." Willas said, looking to Jon, shaking his head, walking around the table.

"Another dragon would help, however. But it is a risk you'd pose, my King. They need more support, and the sooner the better. I understand the Gold Cloaks may want to be proven. Let a volunteer force go, but no significant numbers, it may not help immediately but it may help us keep our capital defended. I know it may not be an opinion that will be popular, but it may be a more sound approach, when we do not know the enemy we do not know." Lord Tyrell wisely mused, before looking at Daenerys.

"The Hedge Knights and free riders would be useful, my Queen. They would provide a good number of forces, but not enough in organization and skill. They need officers to lead them, to fight as units not glory-seeking men of fortune. But even rallying a call from a few minor Houses in those regions would be enough."

Sansa said, "Willas may be right. You have the fleets protecting the Bay, but what if there's another attack. A larger one? We may need every sword we can get in that case."

Asha shook her head, standing, "I say it's the right thing to do. Your men aren't the same gold cloaks of two decades past. You built them up you trained them. They're as professional as any other army now, more even, then some levy regiment. With you to lead them, that will be more than enough support."

Jorah said, "I agree that we must leave some men to defend the city, in case of the worst. But I think no matter what army we put behind the King, they will be well served with him as a leader. If it's officers we need, I will go with the force."

Daenerys had been silent up to now and looked at Jon for a moment before saying, "I understand why you feel you must go Jon. I know you only too well. But what am I to do while you go off campaigning? If what Gendry says is true, you and Jorah are headed into great peril."

Jon replied to them all, "I appreciate all your concerns. But it must be done. I can take four thousand, the other two will remain here. With the royal fleets guarding the bay, there is no chance of an invasion. I will also call in fleets from the Vale to reinforce us until the other ships return home. As for monsters... I'll have Lady Lothson send one of her creations here in case. And I'll call on Duskendale, Stokeworth, Rosby, Hayford, and Bywater to camp their levies around the city while we're gone. The men from Massey's Hook should be enough reinforcement coupled with the cloaks. And I will go. We faced the Night King and one. With Aegon, there's no threat, no matter how great, that should be able to overcome us."

He looked into Daenerys' eyes, "I leave the city in capable hands. With Daenyra and Jahaerys aiding you, there is nothing to fear. I have sat on my laurels long enough and let enough men die for us. The men need to know that we fight for them as well. That is my decison and the decison is final. The banners will be called and once the men are assembled, we will march. Inform Gendry when the moment comes."

Willas nodded, knowing he'd done his best. He'd at least kept 2,000 men back, and part of himself knew that while it was the right thing to do, it would be something that came with risk. A smart one, one that he knew Lady Sansa understood. It was strange almost, to find an ally in her. Willas and Sansa got on well, he remembered how he used to be close with her when Margaery never talked. They never would have taken it further, but Willas was a good friend to her, and he imagined something simular of her, even through her own experiences of the world that had changed her profoundly. Despite that, Willas knew what Jon wanted was not his responsiblity to change. The choice was made. They would action it.

"Understood, my King." Willas replied in response to Jon, as he rested his stance on one of the chairs, thinking for a moment.
"There are men from Tumbleton who could join them, if an attack did occur and an auxilary was required. You would have swords nearby. But it wouldn't be immediate. So there is that too." Willas mused, his thought almost internal rather than external about the provisions for defenses, as he looked up to Jon, a wry smile on his face.
"It's like the old days all over again. I haven't seen you ride into war for a while on Rhaegal's saddle for a long time." Willas seemed warming, not as clinical but a little more flexible to what Jon was thinking, willing to back him up almost.
"You will certainly stir the men, and that can only help."

Jon nodded, "There are men from Harrenhal that could come as well. Worry not on the city Willas. They already tried it once and they know there's too much pressure on them to do it again. They are strong but they have nowhere near the same force projection as we do."

"I hope that the sight of their King will put steel back in them and make them fight even harder. Cause we will need their morale. The campaign in the Islands is making good headway. Ser Daemon's reports are encouraging and my sons seem to be doing quite well. But we need this rebellion in the Mountains put down. Then we can commit on the Islands and turn back to the rebels in our borders."

"We still have a long way to go my lords and ladies. That's it for now, I thank you all for your advice. Jorah, begin preparing the men. Willas, you can send word to our forces in the Mountains. Asha, I will need you to prepare the ships to ferry them. Sansa, you can begin preliminary questioning of the captive. The Queen and I must needs speak alone."

Willas nodded, as the Council began to disperse, and knew he had his own task to set to. He would speak with Alester later, as well as Ser Owen. Two Reachmen who had proven very opposite in their capacity, as he headed towards the quarters of the Master of Coin, to set to work. Unlike Lord Baelish, Willas was not a scheming and conieving shit, he seemed to actually do administerative work. And whilst Alester had been taken to Sam for treatment for now, he had a few ravens to dispatch. Help was on the way it seemed, and whilst Willas did not sit comfortable with that fact, sometimes even he knew Jon had to be able to do stupid and ballsy things to prove why he was King of the Seven Kingdoms, and not the Night King.

-------

Alester nodded as he exerted an effort to stay on foot and bow himself out. A pang of pain ran through his shoulder, as he dug his fingers underneath the armor, staining red. "Shit." He muttered a curse as he advanced towards ser Jorah. "I might to have to impose in you, ser. I will need someone who can dress wounds in my quarters aswell." He gave a last glare at what they had to discuss as Willas cursed. "...tsk." He clicked. Probably the monsters. He thought to himself.

Jorah nodded and said, "I'll have the Grand Maester himself attend you in your chambers, he will be here shortly." Jorah showed him to an expansive and elegant suite of rooms. A light lunch of fruit, bread, sweets, chicken, and wine was there, recently placed. Jorah nodded to him and walked out, saying, "A servant will come to inform you when dinner is ready. In the meantime, you have free reign of the grounds. Good day, my lord."

The room had a clear view of the rest of the palace as well as the Blackwater Rush and the city. Drogon flew by, screeching before flying over the ocean.

Alester said not much more, focusing on getting out his dented armor with labored grunts, scattering the pieces in a nearby seat, making some noises. A laborious effort, being lone and wounded, but a necessary one. After some time, he was down to his leather undergarments, the bandages on his shoulder stained a bit of crimson. His bare torso betrayed that despite his tall and lanky figure, he was still as chiseled as any other knight in the peak of their fitness. He grimaced as he eyed the worn cloth. He had maybe pushed it a bit too far this time, but time was of essence and monarchs did not wait much. He slumped with a grunt, and begun to pour some wine to drink.

His eyes shifted across the room, the ominous screeching dragon awakening some sort of paranoia in him. He then reminded himself. With the Master of Whispers the Queen had, he wasn't sure himself if he was being watched or not. He did not have much to hide, anyway, as he waited for the help to come.

Grand Maester Samwell, white of hair with his famous spectacles entered the room and smiled, "Ah Lord Florent, you seem to have taken some wounds. But worry not I am here to help." The rotund maester entered the room and began expertly and deftly changing Alester's bandages, "Nothing seriously life-threatening, my lord. But I would caution you to not strain yourself for quite some time. How much pain do you feel?"

"Grand Maester, It is an honor to meet you, as ...disparate are the circumstances are." Alester did a small bow out of respect to the Maester. "I have heard of your exploits, grand maester. Both as wise man and as member of the Black." He paused. "Only the sting of the wound reopening. There is no tenderness nor anything that tells me that is festering." Alester replied honestly.

Sam smiled, "You do me much credit and I thank you. But truly all I did were read some words, write some words, and say some words all at the right times. It was Jon who saved the world. You may have read the book." He handed Alester a rag, "Now bite down, this may sting a tad." Sam began to clean the wound with boiled wine, disinfecting it as thoroughly and quickly as he could.

"I'll be fi-" Alester begun to talk, until his vocal folds failed to respond and devolved into a choked whimper."-nnngh." He nevertheless regained the composture quickly, as he reined himself back in quite remarkable. "You...also killed a White Walker."

Sam smiled apologetically and handed Alester a cup of wine after he finished, "Indeed I did, and I am quite happy to say that every other encounter I had with a Walker went much better, with far better swords around me. I see you've been reading up on Sam the Slayer?"

He started to knit Alester's wound closed with a sterilized needle while speaking, "You took a risk, taking on this mission. Almost paid dearly for it. If I may ask, what motivated you to accept? There are no shortage of valiant Reach knights who could have taken up the gage."

"I weighted against it heavily, but to be fair, I saw all the other options as far less palatable. I felt like... it was going to be pretty sour, no matter how well laid out the plan was. I felt like if I wanted to make a difference I would need to wrench victory with my very own hands and stake my strong points." He finished honestly. "Plus truth to be told, I am a rather questioned lord, after all... we were Stannis' host in the North."

Sam nodded in understanding as he started to apply a moist poultice to the wound, "You remind me of Jon in some ways, always needing to do things himself, to do them right and not risk others. And some may question your devotion, my lord, but I met Stannis. A hard man. But not a bad man. He tried to do the right thing and save Westeros, we will remember him for that. And you, you have proven your loyalty today."

"I only seek to do good for my men and the Reach, Grand Master, to the utmost of my ability." Alester said. "I shall confide something onto you. Before his death, my father lamented that I was one of the most talented Florents in generations, yet all I inherited was a broken homestead. I have...thus...much to do left in this world before I can rest. I can always do better. Better administration, better skill at arms. Better knowledge. An almost insurmountable weight, which I have shouldered upon birth." Alester said. "I feel sometimes like that man, Stannis." He confessed.

Sam smiled at Alester, "I understand your feelings all too well, my lord. You are not alone. Quite a few other knights and lords have had to work to bring their houses back from ruin. Daenerys and Jon included. I've watched them rebuild with force of will." He began to wrap a silken bandage around the wound, "Stannis was much the same. Unlike Stannis however, I believe you could do better for yourself. Take solace in friendship and family. Realize that problems and burdens can be shared. That you need not fret away your youth and talent all to focus on a singular goal, to the detriment of everything else."

"That is my advice Lord Alester. Take some enjoyment in life, and try to open your heart to other things besides your duty. Else you risk eroding away your soul, your life. Now, how does that feel? All better?"

"Well if it didn't feel better you would be a floozy and not the Grand Maester." Alester smirked. "...I wonder if i could ask of you to be able to gaze at the Royal Libraries. Since I am in King's Landing and probably with this wound I cannot spar with the King's Guard, I wanted to at least one of the things to do in this city before my chance vanishes." Alester added.

Sam nodded enthusiastically, "Of course. As a guest of the king you are entirely within your rights to do so. King Jon has sponsored the building of a great library tower, you may attend there. If you desire any tomes from my own personal supply, you need only ask as well. For the moment, I recommend you not strain yourself and eat ample food as well as plenty of rest. You should be back to swinging swords within a week or two."

"I appreciate the advice." Alester added. "Come to think of it I need to repair my armor aswell. That thing has a huge dent still." He added. "I mean not to impose, but do you know of blacksmiths in the city?" He added before taking a bit of food and more wine.

Sam stood and said, "The castle blacksmith is quite talented. If you want more ostentautious work done, there are several in the city I can direct you to on the street or steel. But the Red Keep's smith should be sufficient to see to your needs. Is there anything else you desire, my lord?"

"Peace." He said in a flat tone, before chortling in an amused grin. "But that won't come easy nor cheap. I do not mind not having ornaments as long as it is functional." Alester replied. "I am grateful for your help, Grand Maester."

Samwell bowed his head, "I do what I can, for it is my duty. I wish you a good day, my lord. I should see you at dinner." The Maester bowed once more and walked out, whistling a tune.

---------

Willas found Alester in time, after being able to get his Tyrell guard to find a few of the Florent soldiers that Alester had been with in the capital. He owed the Lord a conversation, at the least he thought to himself. It was a formidable way to prove himself, and Willas let ability prove, as he had seen with Mirren before.

Knocking on the door, he waited for Alester, hoping this was the room at the least.

"Do come in." He said as he eyed the panorama that the window of his lodgings offered of King's landing. A soothing scenery worthy of a picture, with moving dragons included. It helped alleviate somewhat the need for peace of mind he sometimes desperatedly craven. "oh, sorry, my lord. I did not know it was you." He quickly got up as Willas entered.

Willas chuckled, still using his walking cane, a gentle thud against the stone floor as he shut the door behind him.
"Lord Alester, I remember when you were a mere boy. Crikey. It's good to see you again. I am sorry to hear about your father. He was a good man." Willas said, a characteristic smile on his face, as he looked out the window for a moment, leaning on his cane.
"So, Merlin told me about what you volunteered for. Sounds like you got a little more than you just bargained for. Sounds like we both did." He added wisely, knowing that Alester would probably get his angle, as he waited a response.

"I thank you for your kind wors, m'lord. He is much missed." He said, as he somberly nodded. "That is indeed true. However, I must say I got exactly what I thought I would get. Or rather, what I feared I would get." He added. "I had a strong hunch it would get much sourer. Because everyone was pretty optimistic about it." He stated dryly. "That brief moment when all goes to plan, and yet it falls apart. That was how it felt."

"Well, nothing ever goes to plan. I deal with that frequently." Willas mused, as he stood by Alester's side, looking out at the window then back at the Fox once more.
"But you took control of the situation and handled it well. Did what you had to do, and captured a man that concerns us both. No harm will come to him, but he can't stay in King's Landing forever. To get him, you risked your own self, for a cause greater than yourself. A truly noble thing to do. So, that brings that around to what I may do for you, Lord Alester."

"You didn't come to my service merely because you want to serve me as your Lord, and you as a liege under me, that is customary by just sitting in a castle and paying taxes where due, with your land and your legalities mostly your concern. Knighthood of course, is a path far greater than that. And you seem to be driven for something. I've lived long enough to get the weigh of a man. What is it you want, Alester?" Willas added, as he stood in front once more, a grin on his face.

"You're clearly capable as a politiican, or a fighter. Both are in need. So you have my ear."

"A legacy." Alester said ponderously. "Of course, upstaging Tyrells like every Florent has always amused me a bit, but... I have to be realistic. You cannot harbor that kind of grudge. It poison's one's soul and that of your descendants. Look what the whole feud did to my grandfather. Sacrificed to a fire witch." He pondered. "Instead, I think I shall close the blood matter with blood, more elegantly. I seek marriage with a Tyrell, and the Florents shall not bother you for a long time, long perhaps to simply forsake the claim." He shrugged. "That way I can dedicate resources to make Brightwater keep stand for a long time as an splendid House of the Reach, and see to their people."

He eyed the Master of Coin in the end. "I have ambition, as you have guessed. But I am far from a rash fool."

Willas nodded, thinking for a moment.
"I don't hold a grudge, for what my father or brother did. That's why I am thinking many things that perhaps are inconceviable to some in the Reach at this very moment. The wounds of the past, like yours, can't be left open forever. Someone's going to have to seal them, even if it hurts." Willas replied, as he rested for a moment.
"I am glad to hear of your thoughts. There are others who would pretend who also did well to abstain their claims. Peake, Tarly, Goldengrove, Hightower. And for your effort, I shall consider it done. My youngest, Alys, is a young girl, so a marriage immediately is out of the question. I understand that may be in your priority right now, but you would if I was to ask it of your youngest sister. When she is older, a couple of years, shall we say, you may be wed, for now, a betrothal should seal your content." Willas said, as he looked at him.

"My brother will not enjoy hearing that news. He gave the Keep back to House Florent on mine, and the Crown's orders because we considered it the right thing to do for a Great House. The right thing to do is never the most pleasant, even if it is just that. You have returned that favour to us, and with Owen Gardener and your record, I would imagine it would be a sensible thing for both of us to agree upon. It gives you what you look for, and a Tyrell in Brightwater Keep no less."

"Alys Tyrell. A lovely rose of your garden. I would rather have her than Alerie." He mused. Truth to be told he didn't want to be in the same room as Alerie. And for the time being, as Ellion or Garlan. "I shall treat her well, as she is a precious flower of peace. I pray that I last a couple of years, hurling myself in walls of spears does me little good." He concluded. "Also, m'lord, among my underlings and people of my confidence, i am called Les. You may use it if you wish so, It saves time."

"She'll be your sister in law, Alester. Oh, and she's mostly harmless. She has her ways. Even I don't understand her, and I'm her father, for pete's sake." Willas added, chuckling as he sighed a little, taking a seat once more.

"As you say, m'lord." Alester let a small bumbling of comformance. Fathers were usually blind to the nastier traits of offspring. However, given their settlement, it was bound to work out, as long as he stuck to formality and kept her at least ouitside of his hearing. He paused. "You seem troubled, m'lord." He asked to Willas, although he probably knew the answer.

Willas chucked, shaking his head.
"When you're a cripple and you have to do the accountancy of Seven, if not now Nine Kingdoms with two wars on at the same time, you try not being troubled. That and my family is the one thing I'll care for more than any, Alester. One day, you'll have children. And realise just how difficult it is to let them find glory without getting themselves killed, let alone yourself." Willas mused ,as he took a large glass pourer, nodding to Alester to take a seat.
"You may as well stay and chat. Fancy some Arbor Gold?"

"A cup only, m'lord. I am sure the King and the Queen will offer a generous supper and I would rather not take leave of my senses while at it. Your offer is much appreciated." He said, as he sat where Willas indicated.

Willas nodded, pouring a cup as he poured one for himself, taking a sip.
"A meeting I'll have to go to as well. We're Reachmen. This stuff practically runs in our veins. Unless you're from House Fossway. Bunch of cider-drinking loons." Willas chuckled, hoping thta Alester would at least loosen to it, not that he was serious about it.
"So, how have you found the capital anyway? Must be a bit overwhelming, dealing with this amount of business so quickly in a new place."

"Half Manderly actually, m'lord." He said while tasting the wine in a careful sip. He thought about King's Landing. "I've been here before with my father, a long time ago. It seemed really overwhelming back then. Nowadays, It is still big, and it has dragons, but it is bearable. Plus it brings opportunities of finding more books than the ones at the Reach, business and politics." He paused. "If anything it is as if a huge bazaar of all trades opened before me, and I must be careful not to lose myself in wanting to do everything at once." He paused as he took another sip.

"It's easy to do it all when you're young. Try being an old bastard with a bad leg. I've seen much of it, experienced it." Willas replied, chuckling as he sipped a bit more of his own wine, looking out the window. His leg was a bit tempramental of late- a passing affliction, that came with probably putting too much pressure sometimes on it, just something that for at least two and a half decades had blighted him. And then it would pass, he imagined. Strange, that was the way it was.
"There's lots to do. The capital is good, but don't let it swallow you whole." Willas added, as he sipped a little further.
"Other than that, I imagine you'll have a part to play in affairs in the Reach for a time to come, Lord Alester."

"Colin seems to do fine as castellan." Alester deadpanned as he swirled his cup, eyeig the older Tyrell. "But I shall take your advice at heart. I still don't know how that man functions, even in good days, when he is not mouthing off Garlan Tyrell." He said as he eyed Willas. "I sincerely hope so, I believe there is much to be done." He paused.

Willas chuckled, as he sipped some more wine.
"He seems to function better than most people I've met." Willas added, as he finished the cup, taking his walking pole, and standing once more, clearing his throat.
"So, we may as well join the King and Queen for dinner then." The Tyrell Lord said, waiting on Alester to stand.

Alester finished his cup, and he let it thoughtfully, before raising from the table swiftly, and following after Willas. Supper was waiting. And monarchs as well. He missed the intimate meals at Brightwater, with only him, Colin and Irise, as well as a handful of servants who had enough trust to address him informally and offer him more food or crude tips on life.

The Dance of Dragons - (ASoI&F) (GoT) - [Openly Recruiting]

Winterfell

The beast looked attentively, its eyes locked in its prey. It snarled, its black fur bristling as it got ready to pounce. Its prey laid there, unattended, without making a movement. Fiercest of all wolves, the direwolf Marrow pounced upon the small creature.

Only to make a rather comical snarl while he thrashed around with the rabbit plush, much to Arsa's delight. "Good boy!" The diminutive northwoman clasped her hand, as she moved to exploit the direwolf's weakness. Being rubbed in the belly.

"What are you Marrow, a common dog now?" Lord Stark bristled, as he eyed the direwolf. He was sitting on his lordly seat, with a small child on his lap, who clapped excitedly at the spectacle. "Wof!" The young Rickon claimed, giddy. "Wof! Pay wof!" He clapped as he jumped outside Lord Stark's lap, and fearlessly towards the beast.

Of course any normal parent would have also jumped out, trying to avoid their progeny from jumping into the maws of a wild beast. Not Stark. Marrow... had always been surprisingly accepting of his blood. He never protested around Rickon, the child subjecting him to the abuse any other man would have his throat ripped off with his mighty jaws.

He didn't even need to get used to Arsa either. The beast somehow who she was. Or maybe the fact Arsa was a self-confessed warg had something to do with it.


Stark unfocused his sight from the playing trio, and centered once again in the messages and the crows. The Greens and the Blacks. Two people for the same throne and crown. Family against family. The accursed act of kinslaying would be bound to happen. As if the winter wasn't enough.

But while one side only asked to bend the knee, the other was more...coercing. At the very least, Stark had to give it to the Blacks, they pretended they -cared- about the North. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully. In any case, he had to recall the armies of the North. The war had danger of spilling into the North aswell. And with harsh winters, also a second threat came. Those who lived beyond the Wall would try again to breach it. The brothers of the Night Watch weren't strangers to calling for help to the Northmen.

If anything they were among the few people who truly still tried to help them the best they could. All others were using the wall as the dumping ground of their rejects. Cregan sighed as he pinched his nosebridge, thoughtfully. Even if he had sent word to recall his bannermen, manpower was needed elsewhere. He made sure to only call those who had no family to support and would rather be a mouth less to feed in the winter. But it would take time, travelling was not easy in the North at all, even for a dragon.

Speaking of which... another Raven had arrived. There was a prince supposed to come, wasn't it?

"Pa!" The young Stark pup raised his arms in Cregan's face, waking the lord from his stupor. "Alright little lord, time to put you to bed." Arsa smiled, lifting the infant with the deceptive strength of the crannogmen and exiting, Marrow eyeing the couple as the Snow left the young Rickon in the hands of their caretakers.

"Hmm, call for the cooks, Arsa. We need to think how to hold a feast for a prince with... turnips and salted meat. Or something like that. We cannot spend lavishly." Cregan said, as Arsa Snow waltzed in front of him.

"Well, we could use fresh meat."

"Those cattle are for Rickon's birthday, Arsa." Lord Cregan puffed in indignation.

"Oh, I can get a couple of stags. No problem, my lord." The impetous woman said, as she did a mock curtsy. "I am still one of the better hunters of Winterfell with bow. Plus, I might be able to see if a Targayen prince actually pisses fire or something."

"ARSA!" Cregan raised his voice, snapping, while the woman, wild as she was, raised the skirt of her tunic and ran, laughing heartily. Laughter that seemed to be contagious, as the servants did so aswell. Even the ...wolf seemed to yip. Lord Cregan Stark, Warden of the North just stared incredously.

---------

Outside Winterfell

(with @Ezekiel)

Amidst the snowflakes, she deftly paced, the scarlet droplets of her quarry tipping her off of his last moments. It was a beatiful stag, worth of a Prince's feast. Arsa smiled at her luck as she eyed her surroundings and drew forth a knife from her belt. She wore now the clothes and attire of a hunter, a fair contrast with the skirts and accessories she usually wore in the throne room. A quiver and a bow rested in her back, the tools which had helped her fell the beast, alongside another one that was resting not too far away.

As she muttered an apology and put the deer out of her misery, Arsa could not help but notice a rise on the back of her hair. She was being watched. Clenching the knife tightly, she put it away as she unslug the bow. Amidst the snowfall, growls of beasts could be hear.

"Figures huh, even wolves are starting to get antsy with the upcoming winter." The huntress said as she readied her bow. Had it been another occassion, she would have just leave the meat for the beasts, and she would probably escape with only hurt pride. But a Prince was coming. She had to put up a fight this time.

Still it was easier said than done. A whole pack of wolves could prove tricky. If they all charged her at the same she would not be able to fend all of them off. Her gift of skinchanging would also leave her wide open. Stubbornly, she readied her bow. "I am sorry, but this meat is for a Prince." She cursed under her breath as she prepared herself to fight.

As the wolves circled around their intended target, an ear-splitting roar crashed through the wilds of the North, animals of all ilk terrified for miles around, not least of all the wolves most direct to the noise. A moment later and Vermax plummeted from the sky, great claws punching into the earth as the dragon landed direct from flight.

Prince and Dragon had been flying low on their approach to Winterfell, Jace not entirely familiar with the North, at least not enough to fly from memory, without tracing across the Kingsroad and nearby wilds, slowing down so that the young prince might navigate the vastness of the cold North. It was for this reason that Jace had caught sight of the conforntation down below, the figure of a lone hunter against a pack of wolves. Despite his better nature, he had decided to intervene.

Before the wolves could react with more than a whine, Vermax's maw lunged forwards, the crack of bone beneath fang and jaw signaled a fast death. Another roar from the tremendous monster, and the pack was sent running, bounding off into the thicker woods. Once they were gone, Jace unbound himself from his riding harness, approaching the hunter.

"Are you hurt?"

"Gods of the forest..." Arsa muttered in awe, the bow loosening the arrow she had strung against a tree, her eyes gazing at the figure before her eyes in shock for a while. A dragon, a real dragon in the flesh before her eyes. She had thought of many things happening, a dragonrider was the least of them.

"uh...eh." She stuttered eyeing the prince, before hurringly doing the best of her curtsies. "I am fine, my Prince! I just...did not expect you to grace this humble huntress with your assistance." She added, not even making eye contact. This was probably the prince his brother was waiting. Well, it had truly impressed her. Almost made her lose control of her bowels, at that!

Jace smiled at her response, chuckling lightly; "Ah, I suppose the dragon does rather give me away." The young prince, while not Valyrian of look, certainly had the bearing of a young statesman about him, coupled with a build that was bordering on brawny, despite his young age. As he spoke, he patted Vermax's snout.

"But, it seems you have me at a disadvantage then, as I do not know with whom I speak, does this humble huntress have a name?" His tone remained good humoured, after the long ride North, human contact was something of a relief.

Arsa looked at the Prince, her eyes meeting his for first time. He did look regal and handsome, but also young. Probably of the same age as her brother. "Arsa." She said. "Arsa Snow, personal servant of Lord Stark at your service, my Prince" She said. It was half true the part being a servant. Bastards were often treated like that in the Kingdoms, but she would never dare claim he was her brother, that was Cregan's right to do so. She eyed the creature, this time with curiosity, as she dangerously and fearlessly close the gap.

"And you are?" She asked the dragon, confident that the beast body language told it was subsumed and not really aggressive against her. She pulled one of her dried meat bits she used to keep herself well fed in the long hunts and offered it to the beast.

The dull-gold of the dragon's scales shimered as it's vast head snapped around to gaze directly at the approaching Northener, a low growl rumbling through his throat, but not building into even the faintest roar. One huge green eye blinked once, before the growl died, and Vermax snapped the barest front of its jaws to take the piece of meat, swallowing in one bite.

"Brave, as well as humble." Jace smiled, moving back towards the dragon, placing a hand on the heated snout of the dragon. "Vermax, he hatched when I was very young."

"Nice to meet you Vermax. I hope we can be friends. I do not want to end up as your lunch." Arsa said, as she eyed the dragon with a friendly smile, before turning her sights into the prince once more. "Well my Prince, you have my most heartfelt thanks for the assistance. Winterfell is now at a stone's throw of your reach. I will make sure that the best cuts of these deer are served on your plate." She pointed at the two fallen carcasses, before bowing out once more and unslung ropes from her equipment to carry the dead stags around. She pulled with deceptive strength one of the corpses before tying it to the other, and placing them in a makeshift sledge.

"Heave ho!" She said, her factions straining as she struggled to pull. Surely, it would be much easier if the dragon could give her a lift, but she couldn't ask a Prince to help with menial tasks. It would be just wrong.

"A hunter brave enough to feed a dragon, must surely want to ride one?" Jace laughed slightly, immediately moving to halt her dragging the dead prey. "And even if not, I am sure, no matter how experienced a hunter you are, Vermax will have an easier time of it." At the sound of its own name, Vermax rose upright, the beasts' long reptillian neck extending, the dragon almost appearing to double in size simply by stretching out.

"So, may we be of aid?"

"Princes shan't be making chores of servants...but if you insist, my Prince, I cannot simply refuse to mount a beast of legends." Arsa smiled back, as she dropped the sledge, as she began to walk towards the Prince. "Besides, you do need to be shown the way, do you not?" She paused. "You are just waiting to show off, don't you, Vermax?" She also quipped back to the dragon, a hand in her hip.

The dragon, as if on queue, blasted the Northern huntress with a snort of hot air, before crouching low enough to be ridden, Jace waving a hand towards the harness, now only at head's height to the two humans.

"If you would do me the honour, climb up first and stay forwards, I'll have to ride behind to bind us to him." There was only the barest hint of mischief in the Prince's tone, it was, after all, the only way to harness two into the saddle.

Arsa smiled as she deftly climbed in a single jump, the blood of the crannogmen of the Neck being more evident than ever in her lithe but nimble frame, as she sat on the fore of the harness, getting ready for the lift. "Be sure to pick the deer, my prince." She reminded as she eyed the Prince once more, her smile beaming beyond her hood. One of her eyes closed thoughtfully. "Even though you might have other appetites now." She jabbed back, the joke on getting the prince on her back not being lost on her.

The Prince laughed, shaking his head at the fast-moving huntress; "You wound me, my suggestions are quite singular in purpose, nothing untoward." His slight grin would have suggested otherwise, even if speaking more of good humour. With that, the Prince climbed on to the dragon, allowing the movement of Vermax's muscles, as the dragon stood, to push him up towards the harness, swinging a leg over, behind the Northern girl. It took only a few moments for the Prince to bind them both in place, the chord wrapping around their waists, then linked to the saddle.

"I'm sure Vermax will remember for me." Jace spoke, before clicking his tongue, the dull-gold beast exploding into the air with the push of two vast wings, Vermax's lower claws wrapping around the dead deer as the dragon powered itself into the air. As with any draconic take off from standing, it took a few moments of forceful wing-beats, before Vermax could take to flight proper, soaring low over the Northern wilds, slow enough for his riders to pick out the detail of the land around them.

"This is such a majestic view. Ravens have nothing in comparison to this." said Arsa cryptically, as she enjoyed the view, pointing the direction of Winterfell almost without effort, as if she somehow knew how the lands were at bird's view. "I am flattered my prince. And so I shall help you. Lord Cregan is right now in the middle of a dark humour, and he will probably not be very helpful, but I can help you with that. Just wait and see, my Prince." She finished her expression as she braced herself and enjoyed the rest of the trip.

----

The North Keep

(with @Ezekiel)

Cregan stood by the main Gate, gripping a sheathed Ice tightly. His breath was running fast, as the maddened expression of his direwolf, Marrow, was torn between frenzied defense or running away. He could feel the beast incoming. Cregan's watchmen had spotted it from afar. What he did not expect however, was Arsa, his own half-sister, brazenly sharing the ride with the Prince Jacaerys of the Blacks. Now it would be much harder to drive the points he wanted to give. He bit his lip, as he glared the figures descending, a breeze ruffling his coat slightly over his armor.

Vermax bellowed another roar as he approached Winterfell, not a cry of battle, although it could be mistaken for one, but a trumpet of his arrival, circling the Northern Keep below, gliding, to expand momentum, swirling in the air above the castle, eventually landing gently before the gate. Vermax paused at full height for more than a few seconds, green eyes gazing across the battlements and those asembled, before eventually crouching down, allowing Jace to unbind himself and Arsa, allowing her to dismount first, before he could slide down the scales of his mount.

"My Lord Stark! It appears I found one of your hunters on route, a small trouble with wolves." He chuckled, one hand on his sword belt. "A shame more complex matters have drawn me North."

Marrow seemed on the frenzy of jumping, his fur all bristled and his fangs clearly showing upon its targets, but a couple of taps in the ground with the hilt of Ice made the direwolf comply. Stark was gripping the sword certainly tightly, as he eyed the entourage. "I am aware, Prince Jacaerys. Welcome to the North. It has been a long way and you must be tired." His words were polite, but there was nothing but cold in his tone and inflections, perhaps even hiding subsumed rage. "You have found Arsa, for that I thank you." He added, before eyeing the woman who just descended from the dragon and began walking towards Cregan.

"He found me when I was carrying the stags m'lord." The smile on Arsa was exuberant. "He offered a ride and I-" Arsa said no more, as the hand of Cregan moved swiftly, slapping her across her face so loudly, even Marrow turned its head from the Prince and the dragon and looked at his master in confusion.

"It is the last time you do something this reckless, Arsa. I will have no more from you. Now unto your room!" He said sternly, as he glared at the shocked woman who then scrambled outside his sight uttering a curse under his breath.

"I apologize for her behaviour, my Prince. My late father made a mistake, and she was borne out of it." He said curtly, not wanting to dwell into the subject.

The Prince stood in shock for a moment, although it could not be read across his face, already a master of concealing his innate reaction, Jace remained still, hand in place on the pommel of his blade, the other hand loose by his side. Before Arsa had even be lead away, he replied to Lord Stark;

"I am sorry if I have committed any offence Lord Stark, I simply trying to aid a stranger in trouble." The Prince bowed his head as way of an apology, before he would continue; "Of all things, I have not come this way to upset House Stark." His eyes flittered to Arsa as she was lead away at that, a brief questioning look, before his focus was on Cregan once more.

"You have committed none, no need to apologize my Prince." Cregan mused as he gripped his sword. "Please raise your head." His voice became sombre as he eyed both. "I know your true purpose. But these matters hardly are discussed outside. Salt and bread will await you inside, my Prince." He stood aside, Marrow mimicking his gesture as he indicated to go in.

"Hospitality is due to the saviour of my sister, however the circumstances are." He added as he went in himself, the cold edge on his words not disappearing entirely.

"Of course, I was hoping you'd say as such, the ride North has not been the easiest." Jace chuckled slightly, his good humour returning, if only as a diplomatic device. He was quickly striding behind Lord Stark and his wolf, patting Vermax's snout before doing so, calming the beast to remain in place.

"A pair of deer, for your kitchens, consider that further salve." The young Prince smiled, evidently more positive in his bearing than the Northman.

"Mmh." Stark emmitted a sound of acceptance before leading the Prince to the throne room, having the servants take care of the deer and help feed the dragon aswell. He took silent, somber strides before leading him into his audience room after exchanging salt and bread, Marrow hurrying its pace along the Lord, always ware of the Prince. Lord Stark sat on the throne, and with a long sigh, he formally addressed the prince.

"The Iron Throne wants my men just before winter, is it not? But no longer there is a single unified Targayen head. Ones call themselves Greens, and others call themselves Blacks." Stark glared at the Prince. "Such folly. Have the wits abandoned the Crownlands? Surely you probably heard from the Citadel. This winter will be unlike the last one, and we had better prepare for it. What good does a civil war bring to the Kingdom?" Lord Stark huffed as he waved the letters that had been sent to him. "Tell me, o messenger of Rhaenyra."

"Queen."

For the moment Jace did not continue, allowing the silence to hang in the air of Lord Stark's hall, the young Prince unflinching in his stare, standing with the ease of someone already well used to politics and confrontation.

"Queen Rhaenyra, and this war that is coming is not a matter I, nor my family, take any joy in." Jace could not help but think of his great-uncle, and stepfather, Daemon at that. The Rogue Prince, now King, probably relished the challenge.

"My Uncle has thrown the realm into chaos to sate his, or more precisely, his mother's, ambition, my mother seeks only to claim what is rightfully her's, and not risk the realm upon the pyre of Hightower fancy. I admit, supporting our cause asks much of the North, but tell me, my Lord, how many riders have come from the Greens to seek you out? They do not do so, because the have nothing but contempt for the North, they see you as a lesser realm, and both of my uncles feel no loyalty to the rights of this Kingdom, and the house that rules it." Jace was determined without being imperious, the houses of the North had long enjoyed their isolation from the grand politics of the South, it would do well to address them more as willing allies, than compelled vassals.

"What happens when House Lannister, Hightower, Tyrell, demand something of them that might harm the North? Do you feel they would even pause in their decision to place their allies above those they did not even try to seek council, let alone aid? Aiding my mother is the only way to ensure the North, and your house, are secure." Jace believed what he said, in full, and it required little in the terms of fantasy for him to speak so, Aemond was a cruel and capricious master, he might burn Northern townships for the slight of not siding with his brother by default.

"However, while that may be the case, the Queen does understand that the North, worst of all, will feel the effects of a war before Winter, and so, if they aid us, the armies of the North will be permitted to return with what spoils they wish from the lands of the traitors, to help account for the loss of men working the fields." Jace paused again before he continued the offer, something far more personal; "And, in return for your personal sacrifiece, as the head of a household, not just a realm, if you would wish it, the Queen would bind our houses together, there are Princes and Princesses both, without spouses or issue, that might be joined with House Stark."

"Queen, whose throne was stolen from under her skirt. She will only be a true queen should she triumph over her foes." Cregan Stark's eyes narrowed in answer to Jace. "Just like the Green one. Still, I shall extend an apology for my slight in that regard. Pardon me." Cregan added, as his fingers gripped the seat, his own direwolf looking at him with concern..His eyes relaxed, asn he took a breath after the tense moment, sighing slightly afterwards.

"Indeed you are informed. The Greens have not sought us, yet." Stark confessed as he let go of the chair, and stroke his chin. "And it is true that the war may spill into the North regardless of my allegiance towards the matter. For that, I have begun to recall the armies to defend what was entrusted to me. Lions, Towers and Roses, they shall not be unscathed if they come to this land uninvited. That much I can say. Staying neutral does not mean staying idle, in any case." His hand went onto scratching the head of his Direwolf, a fidgetting gesture.

"Truth to be told, there is no truly secure option at all. As the Warden of the North, I must ponder what is best for my people, and by my loyalty to the Iron Throne, what is best for the Seven Kingdoms." He paused, a long drawn out silence, as he eyed the Prince.

"Your offer of blood and plunder is rather...intriguing. The royal family intermingling with House Stark would indeed bring prestige to the North and help secure prosperity. However, the plunder, while generous would be a temporal solution. I would rather have other kind of arrangements. Several parts of the North require resources and attention, such as Moat Caitlin, or our sea trade. Plus there is the matter of the Wall and the New Gift.The throne's aid in sanctioning a deal with the Brothers of the Black will be a boon. The Night's Watch is a shade of what it used to be, and that territory cannot go unmanned."

While Jace had been given fairly precise instruction as to what he could offer the Lord of the North, it was within his jurisdiction, as Prince, to improvise a little, and so soon the royal was nodding along to Cregan's requests; "Once the war against the traitors is won, the Crown will be more than happy to assit the North in securing their lands, from both weather and attack." He did not question the need to resupply the Night's Watch, even if the idea did amuse him somewhat.

"I am sure there will be no shortage of traitors taking the Black in the months to come." The young Prince smirked slightly as he continued, a clear jest, an effort to control the tone of the meeting, and simply general amusement at the thought.

"Prince Jacaerys." He began to heavily weight his words. "A friend of mine says all the time... the North remembers." Cregan stark smiles. "And so I remember my ancestors aswell. There was once an attempt who spurned a Queen, and the Sea Serpent aswell. It was a sad affair. I have always thought that men are, most often than not, as senseless as women. And I also think, that the will of a King is binding to their last breath, no matter what circumstances. It is both the boon and the curse of a ruler. It was Viserys' will that Rhaenyra should be queen. The North does remember, Prince." He said as he got up from the throne.

"But again, I owe myself to the North as Warden, and I would rather build than destroy." Cregan said as he himself placed himself in front of the prince."I cannot fathom a world where kinslaying is taken lightly. It is a most despicable crime. Please be merciful, my prince. Please ask your queen to be merciful aswell."

He finished. "The north shall rally under the Blacks. I will make sure of it." Cregan added. "Two thousand already are itching to fight under your banner, so I shall send them after you." He paused. "As for me... I shall gather more. Give me more time. I shall get you an army of wolves, ready to descend beyond the neck. I shall rouse them to be ferocious and fearless. And I shall spare no efforts to pay my due." Cregan finished.

"So that future generations shall not commit such a folly ever again." He added somberly. "Now, i believe a feast awaits, my prince."