cosmiccowgirl
esqueleto
xVampire3go
SonnetNSunbeam
RisingRobin
Gunther
Antlers
PrinceAlexus
Half PintQueenstone
The ship made it to the wooden dock, Garland looking out, standing as he could, the ship slowly drifting in as the oarsmen pulled the ship into place, to where the soldiers awaited. The ship creaked loudly, as it clashed with the wood, being pulled against the wooden dock, as Garland looked across to the soldiers that looked to him.
"I am Lord Garland Tyrell, here to see Rhaenyra Targaryen. Where is she?" Garland asked, as one of the soldiers looked across to Garland, looking at this Lord. The Reachman was taller than some, and apart from the cane that his weak body still needed a little, he seemed to have retained the good looks many thought of Lord Tyrell's curly-haired figure. His face was of a healthy complexion, albeit still relatively white as a sheet, and he seemed to have a particular intrigue, the soldiers aware of what they had to say.
"She's in the Keep....M'Lord, she's quite ill. Most of our Crownlanders have been fighting the remains of Pirates on this island, it is still not safe to be here....I would recomend you turn sails back, I have been told we cannot take an audience of any guests." The guard said, his gruff voice coming through, his orders and knowledge clear, as Garland sighed, irritated.
"Seven Hells, what of Baela Targaryen, her sister?"
"We still haven't heard, last I was told, she was headed to the South Stepstones." The soldier said, his helmet still on, as Garland sighed, looking up at the castle, and the surrounding town that went on beyond the harbour. It was in a terrible state, obviously after what had happened following the Targaryen invasion, was not exactly sunshine and rainbows. It was fire, and blood. The town hadn't been torched, but the people looked like they had been, psychologically, the pirates cleared and their wenches and surrounds left. He didn't want to say it aloud, but this was the "Kingdom of the Stepstones" had to arise from. Sighing, he looked back to the guard, his retinue close by, as Garland looked at the guard attentively.
"Anywhere in particular, lad?"
"Red Mast, M'Lord. All I saw was a dragon going south, that's all, and burning any ship they saw with a pirate flag. We can't take you."
"Fine. We'll keep sailing. Thank you." Garland said, as he turned, stopping midway, as he looked back.
"Can you pass a message on, to Rhaenyra?" He asked, as the guard nodded, as Garland looked to him, nodding back.
"Tell her I'll soon be getting her a gift." Lord Tyrell said, as he then turned, looking to the crew, who were generally waiting on Garland's command, already getting set up to go on shore.
"Men, we sail for Red Mast! We won't be setting ashore!"
Within a couple of minutes, and the information that had been taken on, the ship was leaving, and they were sailing away again. It seemed the pirate fleets were a thing of the past, so they wouldn't pose a threat to their sailing, though Garland knew that the world could very easily change it's ways, and that could most certainly pose a threat to them.
-------------------------------------
The Rosewood, Highgarden
The woods were a nice place to be, the pines, conifers and deciduous trees blooming, the latter being still growing and not very large at all. Even 60 years had been enough to make it grow to the standard that some trees in the Reach were, but the conifers, pines and temperate spruces had all surged ahead of their leafier counterparts, filling the forest floor with needles. The noise was of quietly flowing water, of the trickling streams that had been carved, distant . Many people would settle on a grand garden, and Highgarden was one huge garden castle. Jamie The Green settled on a whole forest, born of his hand, to be his testament, his commitment to gardening. And indeed, wherever you went, you would find his intricacy, his artisanship. There were flowers from as far as the North, Qarth and the Southern Isles, and questions didn't need to be asked on how in seven hells that had happened that they could be fused into one forest, in it's different parts. For a moment, you were in a gorse-filled, pine surrounded wood, the next you were in a mixed conifer and oaken landscape with bluebells and daisies and roses as high as your thighs. The wildlife was as sedate, yet as varied as expected, and it's size allowed a small ecosystem of deer, boar and other animals to thrive, with game hunting an expected pastime for Lords and Merchants with the right permits, gamekeepers dotted throughout and paid for directly by the Reach's coffers. It was impressive, by anyone's regard. This was an enormous pleasure garden, to say the least.
Lyanna looked down at Rickard, smiling, as she sat by his side, on the felled log, overlooking a small stream, a set of rosebushes surrounding it, the smell in the air strong of both forest flowers, fruit and the coniferous odour. It was overpowering, utterly so, and was pleasant indeed, like a perfume only in the very nature. Rickard looked stronger today than usual, but he was still on his cane, and Lyanna had brought him here, just to talk a little. The lad looked up at his aunt, always seeing Auntie Lyanna as a little quiet, a little strange, but always wise. He had been tutored a little by her, and he always recognized her ways, that she was indeed, a real spider, someone who always sat above the stupid men of Highgarden, and she knew Rickard better than he even did, he thought to himself. He was headed to the Citadel after all, to Oldtown to study more. Perhaps he would see brother and sister when they came back from wherever they had gone, Rickard worried for their sake. Lyanna clutched a rose in her hand, resting it on the lap of her dress, as she looked to her younger kin.
"You're not stupid, Rickard. You're a clever lad. The Citadel will do good with you." She said, smiling, looking down at him, as Lyanna looked to the stream, sighing.
"This place we are sitting in itself was the one that Jamie The Green made. I remember him....he was a fine man indeed. Obsessed with his gardens, short-haired, and nothing special, apart from his gardens. I don't blame him, he was bored. His wife, Elena Ambrose, basically ran his Kingdom for him!. He planted those trees when he was as young as you, those bushes next to us before he died....they say he smelt of foxglove, roses and conifer even when he wasn't here." She said, shaking her head, Lyanna looking to Rickard, pointing out the trees as she did.
"He didn't. More like sweat and woodchippings. Gregor always looked up to him, though. He could never match him, so he spent all his time just ruling, or drinking. But I did love him dearly." Lyanna added, sighing, as she knew Rickard was quiet, just listening.
"Those are the realities of this world, my sweet child. It is stories you hear that aren't real, that people want to hurt our family, and all of us so badly. Family is what matters. We grow strong because we serve, and we protect our kin." She said to him, as he nodded, looking out.
"My brother's okay, isn't he?" Rickard asked her, breaking from the topic a little
"Somehow, I think he is....or Seven take us. And even I hate to say it...we could use him over bloody Loras. I'd do a far finer job than his Lordship." She said, chuckling, as Rickard felt a little more reassured, as she looked at him closely, sitting next to him.
"Remember this forest, Rickard. It's a lasting trait of our family. You'll do well. They'll let you read however much you like. If it's what you want."
"It is, auntie!"
"Good to hear of it. I think you have a horse to ride then."