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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Nov 18, 2021 1:02:48 GMT
[Agree to help Aidan] I am divided on this question; there are benefits to both sides. I think it's most interesting for this one, since it may drive a wedge between our POVs. [Choose to fight against Arryn] Well Jaron and Samuel have fought before (...right? It's been years), and Arryn and Jaron have not fought before, and I suspect Jaron may be fighting Dextran soon enough anyway, so yeah, let's go with Arryn. Incidentally enough, I saw one of my friends today, initials A. Blackwell. Indeed, they have fought before! That was back in Chapter 7, shortly after Mullendore managed to capture the Burned Man, back when Jaron and Harpy tried to form an alliance with Hishi's right-hand man Lanford. Though it was before Samuel openly turned against Butterfly, he was already heavily contemplating it and wasn't fighting with the intent to seriously injure Jaron. He still soundly took him down and while Jaron has gotten better during the last few months it can be reasoned that he is just nowhere near Samuel's level. Arryn meanwhile hasn't really gotten his chance to shine yet, so if this choice wins then I'm excited to finally show off some of his moves
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Nov 18, 2021 1:09:58 GMT
Coming in to say while I haven't been active, I have been constantly checking in and I loved the way Aidan was written here (as always). [Agree to help Aidan] [Fight Arryn] Ah, this is really great, knowing that I get someone's character right is always one of the best things for me to hear. Aidan as a character gives me a lot to work with, from his quirks to his goals and there should be a lot to look forward for with him in the parts to come.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Nov 18, 2021 2:38:21 GMT
Caught up finally! Lot of interesting parts that I missed, excited to see where the story is going! [Refuse to help him] Well, first choice I'm making in quite a few parts and it's immediately a difficult one. On one hand I agree with Temari, this is not "our" fight. But I also see what Aidan is talking about. He has been nothing but good to us and his fight seems to be very much worth fighting for, it's just ultimately not John's fight. [Choose to fight against Dextran] Don't really mind Jaron fighting anyone here, but maybe fighting one of the Irrarios man would be the best look. On to catching up with The Dark Eye! Welcome back! That is amazing, I am so glad you managed to catch up again Aye, that is one of the more difficult choices I've given you in a while. There's definitely some sympathies for Aidan on John and Temari's part, he had their backs until now and considering that they are up against two slavers in the form of Abbas and Bakr, he might be the most reliable ally they could wish for, but at the same time, this is indeed not John's and Temari's fight and getting involved in it could come with some unforeseen dangers, though it could also come with its own benefits (such as the obvious one, winning Aidan's loyalty and gratitude beyond what they already agreed upon back in Lys). It's true, Jaron needs to leave a good impression here. Irrario knows Dextran and hasn't given him this position for nothing, so taking him down will help with making a memorable impression. At the same time, Dextran himself at least seems to believe that he is on Samuel's level of skill, which might still be a bit too much for Jaron to handle. We'll see how this goes, either in his next part or in the alternative choices at the end of the chapter. Which I'm going to release a new part for tomorrow. I am not entirely sure how many parts you have missed, but if there's anything I can do to help you with catching up, let me know!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Nov 30, 2021 22:07:31 GMT
The Voting is closed!
John is going to agree to help Aidan
Jaron is going to fight Arryn The first choice was a tie once again, so as usual, first vote wins! And this was an absolutely major choice, likely one of John's most crucial choices in Book 2 so far. Of course, helping Aidan will win John the friendship and loyalty of a pirate captain and his crew, which is no small asset, as well as a much more reliable, but significantly less infulential ally than the Rogare bank. Let's just hope that Lysara indeed never learns about this, because as affable as she might be, she is a terrifying opponent if angered. Meanwhile, Jaron's choice is an interesting one, since Arryn hasn't had many chances to shine yet, unlike Samuel (though to be fair, the same can be said about Dextran, who is among the newest introduced characters), so that should definitely change in Jaron's next part. The next part will be out soon. Unfortunately, I have only managed to start writing yesterday, due to an important university assignment that took most of my time last week. That's out of the way now though, so I can dedicate more time to finish the part, hopefully within the next two days. It will mark a return to the Faronhall storyline in the Riverlands, with PoV's for Edrick and Gabin, our newest PoV character. Edrick's last part began with a dream sequence, where he dreamt of his sister, who is living in White Harbour with her husband and child. His dream was cut short when his companion Jorid woke him up again, to let him know that they would soon be making their move. Together with Darreth, who hopes to free his knight Dante, as well as Sylvi Codd, who obviously hopes to protect her cousin from Harmund Hoare, they would soon infiltrate Faronhall in an attempt to free the prisoners before Harmund could get to them. Before leading them into the keep, however, Sylvi urged Edrick to swear to her by his honour that he would do anything to help Viveka as well, that he would help her as he would help any member of his group. Though Edrick hesitated, he ended up giving her this vow. Meanwhile, Gabin's storyline just began in his last part. Though he is the newest PoV character (though contrary to what I said before, he will not remain the last one in Book 2, that was my mistake), he has been introduced ages ago as part of Lord Tully's conspiracy against Harren Hoare and I believe a slightly longer recap will be in order for him. Due to his own cowardice all the way back in Chapter 5 of Book 1, Gabin managed to get out of the climactic confrontation against the king at the last possible moment. He managed to avoid any serious repercussions, but the Ironborn now keep a close eye on him. Even worse than that, he is serving Reymand Orkwood, the head of House Orkwood, an impotent dwarf who tends to offset his physical weakness with genuine malice. Reymand has taken Ribel, a common woman from the Riverlands, as his favoured salt wife. She just so happens to have been Gabin's childhood sweetheart and of course, he wants to do anything to free her from her predicament. That's the main reason for him joining forces with Lord Tully back in Book 1, but also for his cowardice and current subservience towards the Ironborn. Lord Orkwood has sent him alongside some of his other men, including his nephew and heir Alvarus, to accompany Harmund Hoare as he marches towards Faronhall. Harmund has been sent solely to check up on the situation there, to make sure that the Riverborn's rebellion won't get out of hand, but of course, everyone knows how much of a psychopath he is and Viveka is appropriately nervous about his arrival. It soon became clear that Harmund is deeply displeased by Viveka's failure to prevent the damage the Riverborn caused to their presence in the northern Riverlands and he is even more displeased that she just executed the supposed Riverborn instead of handing him over alive. So far, his attempts at intimidating Viveka have not yet been crowned with success. However, he got a reaction out of her when he revealed another member of his entourage, a mutilated and traumatized man named Flinch, whom Viveka correctly recognized as Balon Blacktyde, a formerly proud raider and member of the powerful House Blacktyde, who had the misfortune of angering the king. Now reduced to the Hoare princes' plaything, Flinch was brought forth to demonstrate what happens to those who displease House Hoare. As someone who also did just that, Gabin was sent forth to punish Flinch even further by beating him up in front of Viveka, who is notably distraught by Balon's current condition, as she has known him for many years. Though he was given the choice to try and only give him some light punches, Gabin decided to go all out on him so that he would not risk further angering Harmund Hoare. That's where we'll start the next part and as I said above, I hope I can finish it soon!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 7, 2021 3:20:55 GMT
Gabin Flinch did not scream when Gabin’s fist hit him. It was a weak punch, still oozing hesitation, but there was no room for principles beneath Harmund Hoare’s watchful glare. “Again”, the crown prince hissed and he didn’t have to voice his displeasure. Gabin knew what was expected of him and he knew he would deliver as always, else it would be him some day in Flinch’s stead, a broken, pitiful shell of a man, good only for the amusement of beasts like Harmund. And yet, Harmund did not seem amused, not even when Gabin’s second punch landed, hitting Flinch in the stomach and causing him to gasp. Now, Flinch was shivering, barely standing on his thin legs. Gabin had little experience in actual combat but he remained a trained soldier, drilled as well as any other in Lord Orkwood’s service. He could, quite possibly, kill this man if he’d continue. Perhaps it would be a mercy. His next punch came before Harmund could order him and this time he aimed for Flinch’s jaw. The broken man collapsed almost immediately, what little strength he still had not even nearly enough to withstand Gabin’s blow. He stared up at him with a single eye, filled with mindless terror. As much as Gabin hated to admit it, he recognized a piece of himself within this expression. Back when he had still been Balon Blacktyde, Flinch had challenged the king himself, he had tried to start a rebellion and he had paid the price and yet, he had been motivated by love and vengeance. Gabin couldn’t rightly say that he would have chosen differently had their roles been reversed. No, the biggest difference between them wasn’t Flinch’s pitiful condition, but the simple fact that Gabin still had the chance to make things right, to save his beloved and to start anew somewhere else. He knew what Harmund would expect and without hesitation, he kicked Flinch in the ribs as the man was already down. It was a disgusting deed, but he had no choice but to follow the crown prince’s orders. He had been without a choice ever since that day, where he had turned his back on Torvin and Garthon Breaker to save himself, to save what fleeting little hope he still had. They would have failed even with him by their side and had he done that, the best fate for him would have been a swift death, like the one George had gotten. At worst, he would have perished in the dungeons or died alongside the brothers down in the south, in Raylansfair. No, much as he despised it, he had no choice. The next punch did not come, but it wasn’t because Gabin hesitated. He reached out to hit him again and again until Harmund would be satisfied, but in doing so he hadn’t paid any attention to the rest of the courtyard, not even to what was happening right in front of him. He had to obey the prince, he couldn’t risk his anger, he had to bide his time for any defiance, no matter the cost. Before he could punch the broken man once more, a sudden force pushed him back, a heavy blow to his throat, nearly enough to send him to the ground. His vision blurred and he gasped, as someone applied heavy pressure onto his throat. Surprised by the sudden ferocity, he could only flail around, gasping for air as his arms managed to grab a bare, toned arm. Only as his vision cleared did he recognize Viveka Codd, who had reached out to him. Her grip around his throat was firm, even though she only used one hand to strangle him and though there was murder in her gaze, she didn’t even look at him. Gabin’s eyes widened as his legs finally gave in beneath him. She was stronger than him, somehow and he couldn’t do anything to break her grip even with both hands clutching at her arm. “Please…”, he managed to gasp, but Viveka still paid him no mind. Instead, her glare was directed at Harmund behind him. The crown prince stood only two feet behind him and yet he lifted no finger to aid him. Gabin could almost feel the man’s sickening smirk. “This is quite enough, Harmund”, Viveka hissed and her voice was an icy river. “Spare me your little games. You may be my prince, but I will not be intimidated” Harmund waited for a moment, then another, as Gabin’s vision already darkened. “That’s enough”, he then spoke, his voice deceptively calm and quiet. Viveka waited as well until Harmund spoke up again. “I said that’s enough!”, he barked, harsher this time and the woman let go of Gabin at once. He took a deep gasp as he fell back, slamming against someone, either Rell or Harmund. Whomever it was, they violently pushed him forwards, were he remained on the ground, gasping for air. Through tear-stained eyes, Gabin saw Viveka and Harmund glaring at each other, with the crown prince now walking past him. Flinch was still cowering on the ground, now on the same level as Gabin and his one eye was staring at him with unexpected intensity. “Very well then, Lady Viveka”, Harmund whispered and his tone was unfailingly polite. By now, he stood close towards her, so close that her guards, hopelessly outnumbered as they were, placed their hands on the hilts of their swords. “I believe we both know where we stand. A further demonstration won’t be necessary… as long as you remember. May I enter your keep now?” Viveka let out a surprisingly audible sigh. “It’s not as if I could stop you, crown prince”, she hissed. “But remember that this is my keep and I have already tired of your… antics” Someone, Rell Vessels most likely, gasped behind Gabin and the Riverlander himself froze immediately. By the gods, what was that woman thinking? In Harrenhal, men had lost life and limb for less. Harlan, despicable as he could be, had a sense of humour, but Harmund… Harmund would never forgive such a comment. The prince himself was quiet and though Gabin could only see his back now, he was certain he wasn’t smiling. His back was tense, his fists clenched and his gaze fixed on Viveka, who met it with a severe glare of her own. “And this…”, she spat, as she pointed at Flinch. “This creature will not enter with you or else I will end him myself. Balon was a good man and you will not sully his memory in my keep. I will not stand for it” Then, a hollow chuckle left Harmund’s throat, the most unexpected sound he could have made. Gabin had rarely seen him in a state of genuine joy and this time was no different, but still, the fact that he had managed to swallow his obvious anger was concerning in itself. “Viveka Codd… how audacious”, Harmund hissed. “How… refreshing. In Harrenhal, they all grovel to me, to the point where there’s hardly a difference between the proudest Ironborn lord and the lowest Greenlander. They all reek of fear when they speak to me. Lords as renowned as Harlaw, Greyjoy or Blacktyde, lower lords like your spineless uncle… to say nothing of those faceless masses even further beneath them. Even Damon Greyjoy grovels and trembles when I walk past him, for even he fears me” He stepped past Viveka and now Gabin could see the truly demonic look on his face. His eyes were wide and black, his smile was even wider and nothing short of bloodthirsty. And still, Viveka just stood there, more annoyed than anything else. “But you are not afraid, Viveka, are you?”, he added and it was still impossible to guess if he was pleased or angered. “You are afraid of nothing and no one” Viveka glanced over her shoulder, meeting his gaze without fear as if to confirm his statement. “Are you going to get in now or what?”, she asked. Then, she turned around and walked past him. “Your men are welcome too, all except for… what do you call him? Flinch? He can rest in the stables for all I care. I have prepared bread and salt” “I’ll have ale instead”, Harmund growled. “Keep your bread and salt and your Greenlander traditions. You have my word that I won’t harm you or your men within your keep, as long as I have yours” Viveka shrugged. “Fair enough”, she admitted. “We’re not enemies and I wouldn’t fear you even if you were” She had already walked past him but as she said these words, Harmund glanced over his shoulder at Rell, who was still standing next to Gabin and Flinch. Now, the expression on his face was clearly displeased, but it was gone before he turned back towards her. “Where is your cousin, mylady?”, he asked. “Her father has been quite worried for her, you know… I can’t think of a reason why he would, given that she’s well-protected in this fine keep” The rest of their conversation was drowned out by Rell Vessels, who began to shout orders at the men. “You heard her!”, he yelled. “There will be ale, there will be a night of peace for all of us! Those of you who want the former, come on in! Else, find somewhere warm to rest!” There was some hesitant cheering, as even the most dour among the Ironborn were glad to have reached the keep at last instead of keeping on marching through this treacherous land of forests and rivers. And yet, most of them had heard Harmund’s voice, many had been close enough to see the expression on his face and all of them knew their prince. They knew it, Codd’s guards knew it, the smallfolk in this keep knew it. More was at stake here than Harmund’s wounded pride and his anger at having lost a chance to punish the Riverborn. “You alright, Strad?”, Rell asked as Gabin staggered back to his feet. Flinch had already hurried off to the stables, likely glad to be free of his cruel master for a short while. Gabin placed one hand on his throat and winced, but he managed to give him a nod. This was enough for Rell, who replied with a nod of his own, before marching after his prince. And yet, something about him had changed. There was no smile on his face despite the implicit promise of violence Harmund had made. His walk was less confident than before, his expression more serious. He used to be as horrible as Harmund himself, but now, Gabin was not so sure about this anymore. “What a mess…”, the familiar voice of Alvarus Orkwood sounded and he gave Gabin a gentle pat on the back. “You’ve seen that look on his face just now?” Gabin sighed. “The prince is in one of his moods”, he mumbled and Alvarus shot him a crooked smirk. “Right, you’d know all about that, eh?”, he chuckled dryly. “I heard you’ve met him quite often, back when you were still friends with Harlan” “I’ve never been friends with Harlan”, Gabin corrected him sharply and Alvarus seemed to have taken the hint. “If you say so...”, he mumbled, his smirk gone immediately. He was almost a decade younger than Gabin and over thirty years younger than his uncle, but the Riverlander had to admit that there was a sharpness in his gaze. Perhaps with him as the head of House Orkwood, things could have been different. “Doesn’t change the fact that you know all of them better than most. What do you think Harmund’s planning?” Gabin shrugged. “It’s hard to say”, he admitted. “The rest of them are predictable. Harlan would enjoy the evening, Harndon would go and beat Flinch some more. Harrick would be temperate and rational as always, but Harmund… he’s unpredictable. But right now, he’s pissed off. He’s really pissed off about all of this” “So I thought”, Alvarus confirmed. “He keeps bringing up Lord Codd’s daughter. Might be just to get a reaction out of Lady Viveka, but… you know what he did at the Twins, right?” Gabin gave him a nod. “Everyone knows”, he mumbled. “And Lord Frey has been accommodating” Alvarus’ expression hardened. “So violence is indeed on the table”, he sighed. “That’s not what we came here for, Gabin” “Your uncle put you in charge of the Orkwood men here”, Gabin reminded him. “No matter what Harmund orders, do you think you could defy him?” Alvarus leant closer, his lean face looming over Gabin now. “I… don’t know”, he admitted. “But I’ve heard the tales about that Codd woman. If Harmund tries anything with her cousin, she’ll rip him apart” Briefly, Gabin allowed himself a smirk. “Wouldn’t that be a sight to behold?”, he sighed. “I’m being serious here”, Alvarus hissed and Gabin gave him a nonchalant nod. “So am I”, he clarified. “Uncle Reymand placed you here to advise me. You know the land, you know the people. So, advise me, alright? I know the men are tired, they want a rest as much as I do, but if there’s a chance Harmund is planning something…” He shook his head, glancing around cautiously, almost nervously. “He’s a vicious man and our king knew exactly what could happen once he sent him” “He did”, Gabin confirmed. Though he had spent vastly more time around the Hoare sons through his friendship with Harlan than around the king himself, he had still lived in Harrenhal for the last four years. He knew Harren and he had a grim suspicion what the king was trying to achieve by sending Harmund to Faronhall. “And should I have the men take part in this charade?”, Alvarus asked. “He is my prince, but our orders come from the king himself. Maybe… maybe if we remain here in the courtyard, away from Harmund and Viveka, we can remain on the sidelines once they come to trade blows. It’s risky, but… what do you think?” His stance was commendable and not what Gabin would have expected from someone related to Reymand Orkwood. And yet, he was not sure if it was a wise decision. He too would prefer to remain out of this, here in the courtyard and away from it all, to avoid further bloodshed and yet, staying out of whatever violence could break out between Harmund and Viveka would likely mean directly defying the crown prince’s orders. Just a few years ago, Gabin would have gladly done what was right, keeping Alvarus and the Orkwood soldiers out of any possible bloodshed between the Hoare and Codd troops, but now… now he was no longer sure he had it in him. [Advise him to enter the keep] [Advise him to remain outside]
Edrick “I can’t believe I’m actually doing this…”, Jorid sighed, as the four of them marched down the narrow forest trail. “I could have been in Seagard by now, or Harrenhal, had I not met up with you lot” His words hinted at annoyance, but his tone was surprisingly jovial, so Edrick replied in kind. “They would have eaten you alive in Harrenhal”, he spoke up. “They probably would have”, Jorid admitted, followed by a stifled chuckle. “Suppose I have you to thank for that. And now I’m here, trying to save a fucking Ironborn” This time, it was Darreth, riding on his other side, who replied. “Must I remind you that it’s been an Ironborn who saved us from Gawayne” He glanced at Sylvi, who marched ahead and Jorid shrugged. “Eh, she’s alright, for one of them”, he admitted. “Suppose her cousin is too, she’s treated us better than I would have expected” “Viv is no monster”, Sylvi now replied, her tone slightly wavering. “She was never going to kill you, not for… trespassing in our lands, or whatever nonsense Gawayne arrested you for” Her words sounded confident, but as she glanced over her shoulder to look at them, Edrick noticed that her expression was anything but. “We’ll help her”, he assured her. “If it is in my power, she will get out of this keep alive” This came as a visible relief to the girl. Sylvi gave him a brief, genuine smile, before she turned back to the way ahead. “So… we’re up against Harmund Hoare now, huh?”, Darreth spoke up after a few moments of silence. He smiled, but Edrick knew him well enough by now to notice that he was avoiding any direct eye contact. It seemed that the brave squire was as nervous as the rest of them, Edrick himself included. “I’ve heard stories about him, but… surely no man can be that awful… right?” “I’m afraid they are”, Sylvi replied. “I’ve never met him, Viv would never let him near me, but she often spoke of him. If only half of what she says is true then he’s truly deranged. People like him are the reason why there is no peace between Ironborn and Riverlanders” Her expression darkened. “Viveka might be in even greater danger than your friends”, she admitted. “She’s stubborn as a mule and by all accounts, Harmund hates that” Jorid sighed. “Wonderful…”, he muttered. “Then what’s the plan? We need to get Dante, Alphyn and Reymond out of their rooms and somehow we also need to get Viveka away from Harmund Hoare… are we sure she even wants to get away? This land belongs to your family. She’s the steward of Faronhall, so why would she ever leave?” “Because she’s in danger!”, Sylvi protested. “She… she knows this. She has to leave, or Harmund will kill her. The Riverborn… I have been doing this for years. I know I hurt them, the king, his sons, their grip over this land. Viveka has been hunting the Riverborn for years. And now she finally caught him, only to kill him at once, or so she thought. No trial, no public humiliation, no example. That’s not the Hoare way. Someone has to pay, so if not Normund, then why not the woman who failed to capture him for years? The people who owned this keep before us were wiped out for less” After all Edrick had heard of House Hoare, he could see where Sylvi’s concern came from. And there was something else on her face, an expression he knew all too well. “You knew this could happen one day, didn’t you?”, he remarked. This time, the girl flinched. “I… it…”, she stuttered, her eyes widening for a moment, before she turned back to the path in front of her. “It was never supposed to grow this big. I thought if everyone would do their part, small acts of rebellion here and there, it’d weaken the Ironborn presence in this land. But then it just grew... larger and larger. There were people who depended on me pushing on. By the time I realized how far the king would go to restore control, it was already too late” “You should have seen it coming”, Edrick spoke in a stern tone and he meant it. And yet, as he noticed how distraught the girl was, he couldn’t judge her. Once, he too had been naive and a bit too well-intentioned, for a little while at least, after he had been knighted in the blood and mud of the Grey Hills. The Skagosi had beaten such notions out of him not long after, but he hoped, prayed even, that Sylvi would not follow in his footsteps. Truth be told, the world needed more like her, people willing to do the right thing just for the sake of it. Edrick had once sworn an oath to uphold similar morals, but that had been a decade ago and he had learned the hard way that honour rarely paid. “But I can’t blame you”, he added, softer now. “You did the right thing, kid. Your cousin will understand” Sylvi did not look at him, but he heard the relief from her voice. “Thank you”, she mumbled. “But quiet now. We’re almost here” Indeed, Edrick could already see the walls of Faronhall through the trees. There were Codd guards on the walls and Viveka’s banners still flew high, but the soldiers in front of the main gate were clearly from different houses. There was the banner of House Hoare, every Northerner could recognize it, but several others as well. A host so large it didn’t even fit through the main gate. “That’s not a peacekeeping force…”, Jorid growled. As a former career soldier, he had to know best and it only confirmed what Edrick already suspected. “Harmund Hoare will expect the Riverborn handed to him alive and unharmed”, the man continued. “Failing that, he’ll seek to punish someone. The people who helped you for so long, or the steward who failed her king” They waited on the path for a few minutes, as the host of soldiers slowly entered the courtyard. “Viveka will invite them in”, Sylvi explained. “She knows there’s not much of a choice here if she wants to avoid bloodshed. She’ll be a good host to them as long as they behave, but if Harmund wants to provoke her… she’s not one to ignore an insult” “So the longer we take, the more likely it is that Harmund manages to provoke Viveka…”, Edrick mumbled. “What’s the plan then?” Sylvi pointed at the gate. “See these guards? They’re good men and they know me. Getting past them unseen won’t be possible, but it won’t be necessary either. I have a plan to get us inside and there, we’ll split up. First, you will free your friends. If anyone stops you, tell them I ordered it and if they still refuse…” Her expression darkened. “Just try not to kill anyone”, she added quickly. “I will head to the Great Hall and stall for time” Edrick gave her a surprised look and his companions immediately realized the implication. “Right where Harmund Hoare is located”, he growled. “Are you quite crazy? You know of his reputation!” Sylvi nodded grimly. “I need to draw his attention away from Viveka for a moment…”, she sighed. “This is my fault. I got Normund killed, I provoked the king until he sent his monster of a firstborn. Without me, Viveka probably wouldn’t have bothered with even capturing you in the first place, but she was desperate. It’s only right that my task here is the most dangerous” A thin, hopeful smile appeared on her face. “Though it’s not without reason”, she added. “You gave me a promise, so once you got your friends out, I need you to make a commotion. Something that will draw Harmund’s attention elsewhere, so me and Viv can slip out of the keep unnoticed. I’ve hidden two boats by the river, so once we get there, we can make our way down to the Twins. Brandon Frey has more reason than any other Riverlord to keep us safe from Harmund” “That might work”, Edrick admitted. “If we can get to the Twins” Sylvi’s expression hardened. “Once we get to the river, we will”, she promised. “As long as we all do our part. I need to distract Harmund long enough for you to get your friends out and then you need to distract him long enough for me to get Viveka out” She tried her best to look confident as she spoke, but Edrick knew people like her. She was scared and for good reason, but he was impressed by her determination. Following Sylvi, they stepped out onto the road, where the Codd guards immediately spotted them. Ten men stood guard at the gate, an impressive force for a supposedly peaceful part of the Riverlands and they were all clearly on edge. One of them even pointed his spear at them, at least until he recognized Sylvi, who was marching up ahead. “M’lady!”, he exclaimed, his eyes wide and his expression grim. “Where did you… you should not be here!” “I pulled some favours with the locals. Got some of them to help out our servants”, Sylvi replied, her tone firm and calm. “I thought it’d be wise if none of our people have to be around the Hoare men for too long today. We can switch them out regularly” The guard gave her a reluctant nod, but his concerned expression remained. “Your cousin should have taken care of that days ago”, he sighed. “Harmund Hoare is here and your cousin specifically wants you to stay away from him. You’re in danger just by being here” Another guard, a younger man this time, with smooth cheeks and heavy freckles, moved one hand through his messy hair. “Captain Gawayne should have returned by now”, he added. “I hope everything is alright” This time, Sylvi visibly flinched. “Gawayne isn’t here?”, she asked, her voice slightly wavering, just enough for one of the guards to narrow his eyes. “Yeah”, he growled. “He was supposed to escort the prisoners to the edge of our land. Should have been back hours ago” “If it were anyone else, I’d say he took his chances and run”, a fourth soldier mumbled beneath his bushy beard. “But Gawayne is a good man, a loyal man. There’s no way he’d just abandon us. He’ll be back soon. Bloody has to be” Though he was slightly shaking his head, he made way for Sylvi and the three men. However, as the girl walked past him, he grabbed her by the arm and gave her a stern glare. “Listen to me, m’lady”, he growled. “I’ve seen the prince. I’ve heard his words. He’s out for blood. If you have any sense in that head of yours, you do as your cousin says. Grab a knife, go to your room, lock the door. Pray Harmund leaves without issue. Prepare for the worst” He let go of her again, but continued to glare at her, his anger clearly born of concern. “Whatever you do, don’t approach the crown prince. He must not see you!”, the guard warned her sternly, but neither he nor one of his comrades intervened as Sylvi entered the courtyard, followed by Edrick, Jorid and Darreth. “I’ll think of your words, good men”, the girl promised. For now, I will lead our new servants to their quarters. Then I shall head to my room as you suggested” “We can only urge you, m’lady, don’t hold it against us”, the Ironborn mumbled, now slightly embarrassed by his outburst. “It’s just, if anything happens to you, your cousin will be devastated. All of us will” A kind smile appeared on Sylvi’s face. “Then you need not be concerned for me, friend”, she stated. “I won’t do anything foolish, I promise” The guard gave her a half-convinced nod, just as Sylvi continued to walk down into the courtyard. A few stragglers of the Hoare army were still here, gathered under some of the other banners. Even now, with most of them in the keep, the force that was left in the courtyard outnumbered the Codd soldiers slightly. “Lord Orkwood has sent many men”, the girl mumbled. “And that banner over there belongs to Simon Vessels, the king’s friend and advisor” Edrick could not claim to have any sympathies for the Ironborn loyal to House Codd, but even then he had to admit it was a grim sight, seeing them outnumbered so clearly, seeing their concern, knowing the danger they were all in. If Harmund Hoare would order it, every man, woman and child in this keep would die. “We won’t have much time”, Sylvi whispered, as she led them through a narrow door into a smaller wing of the keep. Though she kept her voice low as they headed through the dimly lit corridor, she seemed notably calmer, now that they had safely entered Faronhall. “I will head to the Great Hall, to inform Viv of our plan and to keep Harmund away from the prisoners. You go and free your friends, but after that I will need your aid. You need to distract the Ironborn long enough for me and Viv to slip out of the keep” “We’ll think of something”, Darreth promised her, but for once the squire sounded hardly optimistic. “But… are you certain you can do this? After all we’ve heard of that man, are you sure you can face him on your own?” Sylvi was about to nod, but Edrick saw the doubt on her face. “Tell us the truth, girl”, he spoke, stern, but not without concern. “This entire plan depends on you. We need you to get past the Codd guards, we need you to show us where the boats are. If you don’t think that you can do this, then it’s not too late to ask for help or to come up with a different plan altogether” Sylvi hesitated for a moment, just a little bit too long. Her smile was thin and her voice shaky as she spoke again. “I can do this”, she claimed, but her hands were shivering as she spoke. After a second, her smile died entirely, replaced by a grim frown, much more fitting for the occasion. She was, after all, not a warrior, a hardened knight such as Edrick, but barely a grown woman who had lost control over a situation that had already been difficult to begin with. “However…”, she admitted after another moment. “I… don’t think I should dismiss your aid, if you wish to offer it. As the Riverborn, I couldn’t have gotten very far on my own, I had people who helped me every step of the way, Normund and others. At least two will be needed to free your friends, in case someone sees you. But…” As she spoke, she looked from Jorid, to Darreth, before her gaze fell back onto Edrick. “I trust you, Ser Edrick”, she proclaimed. “If you think that you could help me with distracting Harmund Hoare and saving my cousin, then I’d be an even greater fool to deny your aid. You should decide for yourself if you’d rather accompany me or if you wish to head with Jorid and Darreth” [Go with Sylvi] [Go with Jorid and Darreth]
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Dec 7, 2021 11:49:33 GMT
[Advise him to remain outside] [Go with Sylvi]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Dec 7, 2021 20:23:56 GMT
[Advise him to enter the keep] Hmm. Tough call. I like this choice though because it might lead to some juicer things. Also, I wonder how this choice will impact how Edrick's parts...
[Go with Jorid and Darreth] With more people in the keep, it would be good to have more backup.
First thing to came to my mind, even though it's not a perfect parallel, is the The Last Jedi scene on Crait with Kylo Ren and General Hux. Then I started thinking of the memes. Funny stuff.
Guys Gawayne is alive he's going to come back as resurrected (as a zombie) and he'll save the day. There's no way Liquid would waste such a honorable and beloved character, which is why he was mentioned in this part.
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Post by Resident Lychee on Dec 7, 2021 22:33:43 GMT
[Advise him to enter the keep] [Go with Sylvi]
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Post by diversegnu on Dec 9, 2021 17:55:01 GMT
[Advise him to remain outside] [Go with Sylvi]
Oh man, I'm sweating. I feel like it'll be hard for both the Codd girls to come out of this unscathed.
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Post by TheAPlegends on Dec 9, 2021 22:53:25 GMT
[Advise him to remain outside]
[Go with Jorid and Darreth]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Dec 14, 2021 19:04:41 GMT
[Advise him to enter the keep]
[Go with Sylvi]
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Post by nightshroud on Dec 15, 2021 8:17:08 GMT
Missed the last part which is a shame but Im still around [Advise him to remain outside] Not sure if this decision is gonna be comfortable, can very easily backfire [Go with Sylvi] I like both so why not?
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Post by nerdman3000 on Dec 16, 2021 18:48:30 GMT
[Advise him to remain outside] [Go with Sylvi]
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 20, 2021 1:22:08 GMT
[Advise him to enter the keep] Hmm. Tough call. I like this choice though because it might lead to some juicer things. Also, I wonder how this choice will impact how Edrick's parts... [Go with Jorid and Darreth] With more people in the keep, it would be good to have more backup. First thing to came to my mind, even though it's not a perfect parallel, is the The Last Jedi scene on Crait with Kylo Ren and General Hux. Then I started thinking of the memes. Funny stuff. Guys Gawayne is alive he's going to come back as resurrected (as a zombie) and he'll save the day. There's no way Liquid would waste such a honorable and beloved character, which is why he was mentioned in this part. Yes, definitely and vice versa. Edrick and Gabin experience the same storyline from two different sides and their choices will influence the other, some choices more, some choices less. Both of these choices are quite easily more important of course and I will have a field day detailing the alternative routes at the end of this chapter. It might not be a perfect parallel (and I must admit I haven't watched the new trilogy more than once), but I noticed there are some unflattering similarities between Gabin and Hux. Sure, he's overall more sympathetic and he has his reasons, but right now, he is a grovelling sycophant out of necessity, but by no means on the same side as House Hoare and the Ironborn. Given the opportunity he'd totally say something like "I don't care if you win, I just need Harmund to lose". Indeed, that is literally the only reason why he could have been mentioned. Resurrection is a thing in the setting after all, reserved for those whom the Lord of Light has great plans for, like, I don't know, ineffectively blocking a hallway for a couple of seconds after five resurrections. Gawayne could totally do something similar or maybe he just says "I don't want it" a couple times and then goes to chill beyond the Wall.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 20, 2021 1:29:05 GMT
[Advise him to remain outside] [Go with Sylvi] Oh man, I'm sweating. I feel like it'll be hard for both the Codd girls to come out of this unscathed. It will be quite the chapter for them at least, both Sylvi and Viveka will receive some heavy development in the coming parts and I'm looking forward for writing them in this chapter, there's some good material in it for both. Their current situation is also definitely precarious and of course I cannot comment on their chances of getting out of this alive. However, I will remind you that many characters who died in the past could have potentially lived had the choices gone differently. That could very well apply here, though it will require careful choices here and in future parts.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 20, 2021 1:47:58 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Gabin is going to advise Alvarus to remain outside
Edrick is going to go with Sylvi That was one of the most active votings in a long time, welcome and welcome back to all new and returning readers, awesome to have you here! Both choices were also really important for the way this story will play out. Of course, I cannot comment on wether or not you chose correctly (and your definition of the correct choices might very well differ), but one thing I like about both of these storylines is that there's really no right or wrong, both choices have the potential for good and bad outcomes. There's also no other location in the story right now with more characters whose survival in this chapter could potentially be determined by your choices alone and that's something I am really excited for. The next part will be out tomorrow. Contrary to my own goal of having as many parts with two PoV's as possible to reduce the time I need to finish the chapter, the next part will have only one PoV, namely Drent, with one particularly long part. Originally I also wanted to give Kersea a PoV, but I decided against it, as Dren't part is very long on its own and important enough for him as a character to warrant a standalone part. With a bit of luck, I'll manage to finish another part this year that will mark the return to the Oldtown storylines, but first, I'll finish Drent's part. Last time we saw him marked his return to Storm's End after the events of the Chapter 3 finale. Back then, Quingar Qoherys broke the guest right to attack Benedict Buckler in his own halls and even though Drent teamed up with Orys Baratheon, who successfully managed to defend his own honour and that of House Targaryen, the old Lord Buckler was slain. His son and heir Bernard was saved by Drent and Quingar was captured alive, with Orys giving him to the Stormlanders so that they can pass judgement on him. Their return to Storm's End was celebrated by King Argilac, but before Drent could join the feast, the king called him to his study, mentioning letters from Bernad Buckler and Warrick Fell that mention him by name. On his way to the study, Drent was accompanied by Maester Qoherys and he used this opportunity to question the maester about his connection to Quingar Qoherys. It turned out, oh how shocking, that Qoherys is the founder of House Qoherys and great-uncle of Quingar and that he served Aegon Targaryen's father in his youth, before abandoning Dragonstone and his noble heritage in favour of the simpler life of a maester. While he confirmed that Argilac knew about this already, Qoherys refused to elaborate on his reasons for leaving House Targaryen's service and for leaving his family behind. It mostly explained a lot of questions that had come up in Drent's storyline, but did little to ease his distrust of the new maester. In any way, Qoherys escorted him to the study before leaving him quickly in order to join the feast. Now on his own, Drent could hear Argilac and Argella from inside the study, with both of them apparently in a heated discussion. Against his better judgement, Drent decided to step closer to the study door to listen to their conversation, which is where we'll start the next part.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 23, 2021 1:43:13 GMT
Drent He shouldn’t. He knew he shouldn’t. A good soldier would step away now, several steps, facing the wall at best while the Storm King and his daughter argued. There was shouting involved, their words getting increasingly more heated. Argella’s did, at least. And Drent just couldn’t resist. Eventually, he took a step towards the door, then another, stopping right next to it, as he listened to their argument. It was unseemly for a man of his position, but Drent never considered himself the most disciplined soldier in the Storm King’s army. “It’s not fair!”, the Storm Princess growled and her voice was seething with barely controlled rage. “They just got back and now you…” Her father cut her off, calmer than her, but not by much. “None of it is fair, but that’s not something you should concern yourself with!”, Argilac replied. “Frankly, daughter mine, I wonder just why you’re so invested in these soldiers” “Isn’t it obvious?”, Argella barked. “I’ve come to know them, I’ve come to trust them. They’re good people and they risked their lives for me, for this kingdom. I owe them more than that” Those last words were spoken with a hint of sadness beneath the rage, just enough for Argilac to collect himself for a second before replying. “Then find solace in knowing it’s not your decision to make”, he spoke. “You say they risked their lives for you, I say they proved themselves. And for that mission, I need soldiers who proved their worth. Yes, it will be dangerous, but they are soldiers. They’re not your friends, they’re my subjects. One day, they will be yours and you will need to make harder decisions than the one I’m making now” “It’s not hard for you at all, isn’t it?”, the princess now hissed. “They would have all been willing to die for me, many of their comrades did. You owe them just as much and yet you just plan on sending them into the next death trap! I… Gods, I am at my wits end. Are you truly such a heartless buffoon?” Drent could almost hear the king flinching. His voice was close to the door now, but even then it was barely a whisper. “You don’t mean that”, he mumbled. “Don’t I?”, Argella spat. “Mother would have talked you out of it. Davos would have talked you out of it and you know it! But the moment I voice my concerns, you dismiss them as if they are just childish blabbering” Now, the Storm King sighed. “That is not what I meant”, he spoke. “Forgive me for speaking so harshly, it’s just…” He paused, long enough for Argella’s anger to return. “Just what?”, she hissed. “You know what these people mean to me. You of all should understand” “And I do!”, Argilac barked, his own voice more aggravated now. “But you are not their friend, you will be their queen. That means that one day you will have to make such decisions without sympathy, without favouritism” There was frustration in his voice and naked anger in Argella’s gasp. “I do not favour them!”, she claimed, but her tone was shaky and the king was clearly unconvinced. “Then what is this chatter I hear, even among the servants?”, he growled. “You have grown quite fond of them, so much that you have met with them even after your return to Storm’s End. You have roped them into your aggravating little plan to humiliate three good men during a tourney that was dedicated to you. Perhaps lowest among those rumours is that you have grown fond of one soldier in particular” “Is that why you’ve called him here?”, Argella replied sharply. “Over rumours as baseless as they are vile?” Drent winced at her words, but she was hardly done. “Is that why you plan on sending that entire unit to their deaths?” A hollow chuckle left her throat. “I never thought you a petty man, father, but this… what else is it but a petty, childish tantrum? You’re sending men to their deaths because a few servants gossip as they always do” “I don’t plan on getting any of them killed!”, the Storm King roared now. “I… need time. I need to prepare my next move and they will give me this time. Have faith in me…” Drent flinched as he heard Argella’s unmistakable step rapidly nearing the doors. “I had faith in you”, she hissed. “Back when you sent me to Raylansfair because of Tariel’s lie. I wonder if you knew what she was planning. I wonder if you even approved of it…” Again she stepped towards the door, only to stop right in front of it. “Gella, wait!”, the king growled. “I… apologize for Raylansfair. I made a mistake, I wronged you. But this… this is not me being petty. I’m sending them because these soldiers have proven themselves. They will buy me the time I need. They might not be the only choice, but they are by far the best. And I don’t intend on punishing anyone because of mean-spirited rumours. In fact, I have… considered what you suggested. About that soldier…” “Drent”, Argella clarified and on the other side of the door, Drent tensed up as he heard his name. The Storm King sighed and he too was close enough to the door now that Drent could hear his words. “Yes”, he confirmed. “I have thought on this matter and… I approve” This earned him a gasp from the princess, but where her previous words where oozing anger, what she said next was more surprised, but clearly with hesitant joy. “You… did?” “Of course”, Argilac confirmed. “After what happened at Bronzegate, I didn’t have much of a choice. That was the final straw. I told you to trust me. Now… I’m sure you have many questions and many legitimate grievances, but my guest should be here soon” Drent realized that their conversation was nearing its end, so he began to hurry back from the door, even if it meant he wouldn’t hear the rest of it. The king and his daughter exchanged a few words, but now that they had both calmed and he was standing farther away, Drent failed to hear any specifics. When the door finally got opened, mere moments after he had assumed position suitably far away from it, Argella marched out. She wasn’t storming as he had expected, nor was she fuming. Instead, though slightly absent of mind, she seemed troubled, more than usual at least. At first, she didn’t even seem to notice Drent, only flinching as she almost walked past him. “Drent!”, she gasped and he bowed in front of her. “My princess”, he greeted her. “I hope everything is alright” “You… weren’t listening, were you?”, she hissed. Drent couldn’t contain a smirk. “I never listen, mylady”, he replied. This earned him a mildly annoyed glare. “Your attempt at being witty has been acknowledged and appropriately pitied”, the princess stated. “Though you’re not here to snark, thank the gods. My father has called for you and though I will not spoil his intention, I can assure you that you should be on your best behaviour for it” Drent tried to smile at her, but the expression was stifled at best and he knew it. Unsurprisingly, Argella caught up to it immediately. “I should be the one asking you if everything’s alright”, she sighed. “Are you nervous?” After a moment of hesitation, Drent gave her a nod, which she replied to with a bright smile. “I suppose it’s only natural”, she admitted. “Is this your first time speaking to my father in private?” “Just me and him, yes”, Drent admitted. Argella’s expression softened slightly. “He’s really not that bad”, she assured him. “You’ve served me and him loyally and he knows it. So, straighten your back and meet his gaze without hesitation, he likes that. Think of him as… me, but three times as old and half as pretty” Her gaze met his, a calm, deep blue. “And you are not afraid of me, are you?” Drent shook his head without hesitation. “Not anymore”, he replied, getting a genuine laugh out of her. “Good answer, Golton”, she chirped. “Fair enough too. Now, don’t be afraid, that’s the most important thing for you to remember. My father is going to love you” Drent was not so sure about that, but her words were calming at the very least. “It’s just… may I speak freely?”, he began. The Storm Princess shrugged. “You’re not Torrence, so I’ll allow it”, she confirmed. “But make it brief, my father is waiting and he is not as patient as me” “It’s about the tourney”, Drent revealed, voicing the doubts that had plagued him ever since Argilac had called him into his study. “Do you think he intends to punish me for it?” Argella was quiet for a moment, but her confidence did not waver. “Impossible”, she replied. “What would he be angry about? You were fighting honourably. If father presses the matter, tell him you acted on my orders. No one shall think less of you for obeying me” “Warrick Fell knows”, he then stated. If the Storm Princess was surprised by this, she managed to hide it well. “So what? You beat him in a fair fight and though I had my hands in pitting you against him, you won by your own strength and skill in arms”, she reassured him. “You deserve praise for what you did. Maybe not why you did it, but you’re a commoner. Nobody cares for your reasoning” “You didn’t have to be so blunt about it”, Drent mumbled and Argella rolled her eyes. “Oh, didn’t I?”, she spoke, pressing those words through gritted teeth. She took a step closer, looking up right at him. Close as she was now, Drent noticed the faint scent of lavender and the softness in her previously stern expression. “I will forever cherish your loyalty”, she promised. “And no matter what my father intends for you, know that I will not leave it unrewarded” Drent narrowed his eyes. “I didn’t do it for a reward, princess”, he stated and she gave him the slightest of nods. “I know”, she spoke, her tone gentler than usual. After a moment, she pulled herself together and her usual confidence returned. The swiftness in which her expression changed, the determination with which she tried to downplay the softness that had lingered in her tone just now got a smirk out of Drent. “Don’t give me that look”, Argella sighed. “And wipe that smirk off your face” “I was told it adds to my charm”, Drent replied in a dry tone and the princess shook her head. “It’s obnoxious”, she claimed, followed by a mild, but genuine chuckle. “Go now. Don’t leave my father waiting and remember, meet his gaze and show no fear” She moved away, but as she glanced over her shoulder again, Drent saluted her. “Take care, Drent”, she told him. “In case we don’t get to speak again before…” She paused and Drent’s smirk faded. “Before what?”, he asked, but she quickly turned away again. “My father will explain everything”, she sighed. Without another word, she walked down the hallway, leaving the soldier alone in front of the king’s study. He hesitated for another moment, before he knocked, firmly as she had advised him. “Come in then”, the Storm King’s gruff voice sounded just a second later and Drent followed his order at once. He had never been to Argilac’s study before, the place was usually reserved for the king’s highborn guests and trusted knights, with more formal audiences being granted either in the Great Hall or in his war room. As such and despite Argella’s words, he was slightly nervous as he opened the door. The room he now entered was smaller than expected, but tastefully furnished. It was half-round with a high ceiling and a prominent fireplace to his left, with several low chairs gathered around a table to his right. On the other end of the room, where the wall was round instead of even, a single window would provide light during the day. Right now, the wooden shutters were closed to keep the cold out, but if not for the crackling fire, it would have nonetheless been freezing in this room. The wall on both sides of the fireplace was decorated with hunting trophies, old, half-withered skulls of great beasts and a surprisingly high amount of antlers. Behind one of the chairs, leaning against the wall to the right, Drent spotted a heavy sword resting within a jewel-encrusted scabbard. Above it, two halberds were pinned to the wall, across each other. Argilac Durrandon was standing next to the window, his back turned to Drent, as he leant over a small cupboard. Briefly he glanced over his shoulder, acknowledging the soldier with a single nod, before fully turning around. “Drent Golton”, he greeted him and Drent immediately saluted. The king’s expression was stern and he mustered him carefully from head to toe. As Argella had told him, he met the king’s gaze without fear. “At ease, soldier”, Argilac finally growled and Drent lowered his arm. “You have good posture… and you’re not afraid to look me in the eye” A crooked smile formed beneath the king’s thick, black beard. “Argella gave you some advice, didn’t she?” Drent gulped, before he gave him a nod. “She did, your grace”, he confirmed. The king chuckled to himself. “Says a lot about that girl”, he replied. “She likes you enough to warn you and is angry enough with me to think you’ll need it” Without waiting for Drent’s reply, he pointed at the chairs. “Grab a seat”, he spoke and Drent knew orders well enough to realize that this was not one, but rather a friendly request. “You want something to drink? I have rum from Braavos, nothing particularly fancy, but I’ve developed a taste for it” He grabbed a bottle from somewhere behind him, followed by two clay cups. It was what soldiers, not kings, would drink, but Drent wasn’t surprised by King Argilac’s simpler tastes. Unlike the flowered lords of the Reach or even Harren the Black to the north, Argilac was a king who knew what it was like to fight, who knew the deprivations of war and the small joys of life in a war camp. His men respected him for it and so did Drent. “I’ll have one”, the soldier confirmed and with a pleased grin, the king filled both cups, one for each of them. “Good man”, he complimented him, as he took the seat on the other end of the small table. Though they were sitting on the other end of the fireplace, it was comfortably warm in the entire room, a sharp contrast to the biting winds that plagued Shipbreaker Bay during the autumn years. The Storm King raised his cup. “To what shall we drink then?”, he asked. “I know soldiers often toast to their king, but that’d feel pretentious now” “The gods?”, Drent asked, to which Argilac immediately shook his head. “I haven’t offered the gods a toast nor my prayers in a decade”, he growled and his previously jolly expression briefly darkened. “They’ve given me more grief than most and I owe them nothing” The darkness in his gaze was gone quickly, but his smile did not return in full just yet. “Shall we drink to the princess then?”, Drent offered and as expected, this brought a smile back to the old king’s face. “My Gella”, he confirmed, as he raised his cup. “May she have a long life ahead of her and a blessed rule, may her reign spell a golden age for House Durrandon and may she always have the wisdom to surround herself with good folk” “To the Storm Princess!”, Drent exclaimed and they clanked their cups together, the king and his soldier, before each took a deep gulp from it. The rum was indeed cheap, even Drent could taste this, but delightfully strong and with a fire to it that warmed him to his very core. On this chilly autumn night, that was all it had to be. “Now, Golton, let us talk”, Argilac growled after taking another sip of his rum. “I’m sure you know why I have called you here” Drent frowned and even though it was warm, downright cozy here, he did not fail to notice the hint of ice in Argilac’s voice. “You mentioned two letters, your grace”, he mumbled and the king sighed. “One from Bernard Buckler and one from Warrick Fell, yes”, he confirmed. “They both mention you by name. Even aside from its contents, few men of your standing could ever boast such a feat” He narrowed his eyes, now a glare within them. “And I remember you as well”, he growled. “Montclair chose you in particular as part of the group that left for Raylansfair” The mention of his old commanding officer caused a sigh to leave Drent’s throat. The Storm King gave him an understanding nod. “Jax was my friend too”, he confirmed. “Though I suppose it is Ser Jax now” “The princess did him a kindness in his final moments…”, Drent mumbled, staring past his king and into the fire behind him. “She held the sword and spoke the words, but technically she did not knight him”, Argilac disagreed. “That is a privilege of knights and kings. Argella is neither, but fortunately I am both. When I heard what Jax did, I took care of the formalities. That man will be remember as a knight” This brought a thin smile to Drent’s face. “I’m sure Sergeant… Ser Jax would have liked this…”, he stated. Both men were quiet for a moment, before Drent pulled himself together. “You had questions for me, your grace?” The Storm King gave him a slow nod. “Forgive an old fool for reminiscing, Golton”, he growled. “But Jax is part of my reason for calling you here today. I sent fifty soldiers with my daughter, as well as one of my best knights and one of my most loyal men-at-arms. And yet, you were the only man whom Jax mentioned by name, the one whom he insisted by his side when I called you to my war room all those months ago” Beneath his bushy beard, his lips formed a thin, brief smile. “It seems he thought highly of you, as does my daughter”, he added and this praise actually brought a bit of heat to Drent’s cheeks. “Can you imagine why?” Drent had to think on this question for a bit. “I served under him for half a decade”, Drent mumbled. “Ever since I…” He paused and Argilac’s smile faded. “Ever since?”, he growled and Drent tensed up. “I was not born in the Stormlands”, he spoke. The king shrugged. “I know that already”, he revealed. “I had Qoherys look into your past, as much as this is possible for a commoner. He told me you were born in a small village in the eastern Reach” “Near Cider Hall”, Drent confirmed and Argilac sighed. “A good place”, the king mumbled. “I never got that far during the war, but I remember fighting against Ashford men at Summerfield. You’re a bit too young to have been among them, but still I have to wonder what fate has led you to abandon your home and settle in a kingdom that waged such a terrible war during your childhood” “In truth?”, Drent asked, continuing before the king could react. “The war never affected me that much. I was an only child, my father was injured years before the war and left with a limp, unable to serve in the army. Lost no family to your men, no friends. But I heard about your army. How not even Garse the Good in all his might could stop them… I’ve been an impressible child. Years after the war, my parents died and I had nothing left in the Reach, no ties, no family, no loyalty. Starting over as part of that great army that crushed ours, it seemed like the right choice at the time” The king leant closer now. Behind him, flames crackled and there was a fire in his eyes. “And did you ever regret your choice, Drent Golton?”, he asked. This time, Drent didn’t even have to think about it. He shook his head, with determination. “I’ve found a place where I belong, here in Storm’s End. Sergeant Montclair took me under his wing, I made friends, I… I may be just a simple soldier, but I like to believe I’ve made it farther than I ever would have in the Reach” This got a chuckle out of Argilac. “Of course you have, Golton”, he growled. “You’re drinking rum with a king and you’ve drank wine with a princess” His grin widened as Drent flinched, but this time, the expression did not reach his eyes. “So it is true”, he spoke. “I only had hearsay until now, but your reaction confirms it. My daughter should know better than to drink with a commoner” He glanced at the cup in his hand, then back at Drent, before rolling his eyes. Though he couldn’t be more different from Argella, with his impressive build and untamed hair, this expression was uncannily like her. “I know what you’re thinking and no, it is not hypocritical of me to say this”, he growled. “When I drink with my men, they call me charitable, approachable, grounded. When my daughter does it, they’ll use different terms, darker terms” There was no accusation in his voice and though Drent heard clear anger, he was confident it wasn’t directed at him. Nonetheless, he averted his gaze. “I am sorry, your grace”, he mumbled. “I never wanted to cause trouble for the princess. She’s a remarkable woman and serving her in Raylansfair has been an honour unlike any other” This softened the king’s expression, just a little bit. “Emphryus said something similar”, he admitted. “He also praised you for your loyalty and dedication, making it the second time that a man I trust implicitly mentions you by name” Truth be told, Drent wasn’t surprised that Sergeant… no, Ser Jax had mentioned him and spoken well of him. Though always grim and quick to anger, he had a soft spot for his men. But being praised by Emphryus Dresfel was another thing entirely. “He… did?”, Drent gasped and Argilac gave him a nod. “In your own words, can you imagine why those men would speak so highly of you?” “I… don’t know”, Drent admitted. “Montclair knew me for many years, so he must have trusted me a great deal and Ser Emphryus… I honestly don’t know. I did my duty, I protected the princess as any soldier would have done…” The king cut him off there. “Not any”, he growled. “Those weren’t Emphryus’ words, but I sense you truly believe in what you just told me. Emphryus however, he assured me you went beyond mere duty. You would have died for my Gella in Raylansfair and had things been different, you would have taken that arrow instead of Jax” There was no judgement in Argilac’s words, but Drent nonetheless averted his gaze. “He was a good man…”, he mumbled. “And perhaps I should have… his sons…” “I have made sure they will be taken care of”, the king cut him off. “As sons of an accomplished knight, I have sent them to Tarth, where they will squire under Lord Godric Tarth. In time, they will become knights themselves and I hope they will serve my daughter as well as their father served me” He glanced to the side, to the door. “This is all I need to know about Raylansfair. Emphryus and Tariel have both sent me fairly extensive reports, I doubt you have anything to add. But there is a different, far more pressing matter at hand”, he added. “Warrick Fell has sent a raven. He mentions you by name yet again and accuses you of…” A brief, but clearly amused smirk was visible beneath his beard. “Conspiring with my daughter to humiliate him during the tourney I held in her name”, he continued. “What do you have to say in your defence?” Drent gulped as he saw the serious glare in Argilac’s gaze, even though there was a genuine hint of amusement left on the king’s face as well. “I don’t think denying it will do me any good?”, Drent replied, to which the Storm King shook his head. “I’ll admit it then. Your daughter made it clear she doesn’t wish to marry any of the suitors you chose for her. She approached me and I agreed to help her” The king narrowed his eyes. “You haven’t done her as much of a favour as you might have thought”, he growled. “There’s a reason why I don’t bend to her every whim. Argella is young, she’s impatient and she’s at that blasted age where she thinks she’s right all the time. Of course she didn’t want to marry any of those boys, but she should have. It would have been good for her, good for her reign, good for her grip on the throne to have a husband by her side who is well-respected in her kingdom, but who has neither the strength nor ambition to challenge her rule” He shook his head, not without frustration this time. “I should have seen it coming. She wouldn’t be my daughter if she’d just accept it freely”, he sighed. “But even I did not think she’d outright sabotage my plans like that. Even now I’m unsure if I should be angry with her or proud” “For what it’s worth, I…”, Drent began, but the king cut him off. “You did what you did”, he growled. “And it was damn impressive. Now, Warrick Fell has written a pretty mean letter, but let’s be honest, you did nothing wrong. My daughter, yes, I have and will have some stern words with her about this, but all you did was fighting in the tourney on her behalf. You defeated a castle-trained fighter in single combat. Given, Warrick is not the greatest swordsman, but still, he’s been personally trained by Felwood’s master-at-arms. He should have beaten you bloody” Drent’s mouth tightened. “I’m kinda glad he didn’t…”, he mumbled, which got a brief, but genuine laugh out of the king. “No, Landry Swann did”, he replied and Drent winced as he remembered the towering knight. He had stood no chance back then and it was hard to imagine that anyone would. Orys Baratheon maybe, but even that was far from certain. “Ah, don’t make that face, Golton!”, the king exclaimed. “There’s no shame in losing against Landry Swann. I did too, if you remember and even in my prime he would have been a difficult opponent. But losing against a commoner like you… Warrick Fell has reason to be angry, but even he has admitted that there’s no need to punish you for it” “He did?”, Drent asked in blatant surprise and Argilac gave him a quick nod. “And he didn’t tell anyone but me. Proves he’s a decent lad after all”, the king revealed. “But he lost against a commoner and I cannot accept such a man by my daughter’s side. The same goes for Jonathan Errol, which is a shame, really. He’s young and meek, perfect for Argella to bend him to her will. He lost in an archery contest against a woman and from the Dornish Marches to Blackwater Bay they’re all making fun of him” “Edonia won fairly”, Drent protested, before he realized that his tone was highly improper to be directed at his king. Luckily for him, Argilac did not seem to mind. “I know and I’m not mocking her”, he replied. “But the Errol boy, he’s an archer of renown. He shouldn’t have lost. Really, the only suitor to keep his pride is Bernard Buckler, who managed to unhorse Ser Emphryus. Unfortunately, he’s recently become the new Lord Buckler and as such he’s now in a position where he can refuse to marry, which he did, respectfully, in his own letter” This hardly surprised Drent. He had expected this ever since his earlier talk with Bernard just before the tournament. “He told me… he never really wanted to court your daughter”, he revealed and Argilac shrugged. “Sometimes, people still manage to surprise me”, the king admitted. “He could have become prince-consort by Argella’s side, but he refused to even entertain that thought. He also mentioned you, but much more favourably than Warrick Fell did” “I… failed to save his father”, Drent mumbled and the thought that Bernard could still praise him actually sent a sting of regret through his chest. He hadn’t thought highly of the man during the tourney, he had shared Argella’s outspoken antipathy for him, but perhaps he had misjudged him. Argilac shook his head. “Quingar Qoherys is at fault for that”, he disagreed. “He and Orys Baratheon both. Sure, Baratheon refused to broke the guest right, but that’s a pretty low standard. He led an army to the border of my kingdom and he failed to keep his man in line, so Benedict’s death is on him as well” There was anger in his voice, but more than that, Drent recognized a hint of grief. “My condolences, your grace”, he mumbled. “Lord Buckler must have been a friend” Argilac gave him a slight nod. “One of my oldest and closest”, he admitted. “He was my first squire, back when I was younger than you are now. Over the years he became my friend, then my knight, then my bannerman in that order. You have saved his son and heir and for that, you have my gratitude and Bernard’s as well” Argilac finished his rum, heavily slamming the empty cup onto the table, before rising from his seat. “Bernard made a request of me and I would have hardly been able to deny my old friend’s son such a wish”, he growled. “Especially after our conversation. You are diligent, loyal and brave and your prowess is nothing to scoff at, given your humble origins” He mustered Drent once again and his smile faded. It was in this moment, with the huge, grizzled king glaring down at him that the soldier felt a hint of nervousness. “In fact, my Gella made the same request after your show at the tourney. I laughed it off then, but after you saved the new Lord Buckler’s life, I see that this has never been a laughing matter” Drent’s expression grew genuinely surprised. “Mylord?”, he asked, as Argilac walked past him. “Get up from your seat and down on one knee”, the Storm King ordered him, his voice stern and allowing for no hesitation. Almost without thinking, Drent got up and did as he was told, after which he heard the metallic sound of a sword being drawn right behind him. The heavy, jewelled scabbard landed right next to him, tossed there carelessly, as the king walked back into view. “Usually, there is a ceremony involved, but I never liked the pomp. This is not a reward, but a new duty and it should be treated as such”, the Storm King intoned. Drent tensed up, as he realized what the king could possibly mean. “Your grace, are you…”, he began, only to fall silent as the tip of the blade touched his right shoulder. “I am indeed”, Argilac confirmed. “Lord Bernard Buckler would have done it himself, but his injuries proved too severe, so he asked me instead. And what can I say, there are some matters in this world which are best if a king tends to them. Bestowing a knighthood is one of them” “Gods…”, Drent gasped and the king shook his head. “The gods are of secondary importance right now”, Argilac spoke. “They’ll bear witness to this, but only me and you matter right now… Drent Golton, do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves?” Each of his words sent a shiver down Drent’s spine. “Do you swear to protect all women and children, to obey your captains and your king to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or dangerous they may be?” After the king had finished, Drent needed a moment just to reply. “I…”, he stuttered, his voice nearly breaking. “I do!” With a pleased smile, the king moved the blade to his left shoulder and Drent felt the weight of the steel. “You knelt as a commoner”, Argilac continued. “Rise now as Ser Drent Golton, Knight of the Stormlands” “A knight…”, Drent gasped, as he staggered back onto his feet. With wide eyes, he looked at the king, who seemed almost amused by his surprise. “Don’t be like that, Ser Drent”, he snarled. “You have saved a lord’s life. Lesser men have received this honour for lesser deeds, but you… I expect even more remarkable feats in the future” Drent saluted in front of his king before realizing that this was a soldier’s gesture. “I will not disappoint you, my king!”, he intoned. “You better don’t”, Argilac replied sternly. “For I will bestow you your first duty already. Today, you will be given a chance to celebrate. You may seek out your former companions, but keep in mind that you stand above them now. If you need someone to explain your new duties and privileges, Ser Emphryus Dresfel would be the man to talk to. Afterwards, seek out Maester Qoherys, who will grant you your personal coat of arms. On Lord Buckler’s behalf, I will bestow upon you a fine steed from my stables and a set of armour, though you will have to maintain both from your own savings” Drent shook his head. “In this case, I must refuse”, he spoke. “A soldier’s wages are meagre and I cannot care for a horse or fine armour” “In this case it should please you to hear that you are hereby promoted, Ser Drent”, Argilac revealed. “As a knight, you are no longer a common footsoldier. You will take over Ser Jax Montclair’s old unit, relieving Emphryus Dresfel of his temporary command. You have served with each of those soldiers, so I presume you can lead them without issue. Come tomorrow, you will be in charge of preparing them for a long journey to the southern edge of my kingdom” And suddenly, Argella’s previous anger made sense. The elevated feeling that was coursing through Drent right now came crashing down at once. “The southern edge… you send us away?”, he realized and the king gave him a nod. “Your unit has proven itself twice already. I need these soldiers and a knight of your accomplishments to lead them into the Dornish Marches. There, you will be sent to assist Captain Symond Brownwell in securing the road to Wyl in northern Dorne” “Dorne… your grace, what about the war to the north? What about Aegon Targaryen?”, Drent exclaimed. For a second, he felt alarmed at having spoken like this to his king, but then he realized that he was a knight now and as such he could speak more frankly even to the Storm King. And indeed, Argilac did not seem to mind his tone. “This is precisely related to Aegon Targaryen”, he clarified. “The dornishmen are snakes and they have been at war with my kingdom for centuries. We share a long border and a third of my soldiers are bound there, protecting roads and keeps from their expeditionary armies and villages from their raiders. I need to beat the Dornish back, I need to gain the upper hand in our struggle so that I can force them into a ceasefire. Therefore protected, I can unite my army and march against Aegon Targaryen and the traitor lords of Massey and Bar Emmon” There was a fire within Argilac’s gaze now, darker than the flame Drent knew from Argella. Wrath incarnate, prideful and terrifying. “Mark my words, I’ll have Aegon and his sister-whores feast upon their own slain dragons for ever daring to move against me”, he snarled and Drent knew it was not an empty threat. “They are yet weak, but he is moving against the Riverlands first and if Harren the Black fails to keep his Riverlords in line, he will soon gain a sizeable army. I must march on his holdings in mainland Westeros before that, but first I need to make sure the Dornishmen won’t use this moment to strike on their own” “I understand”, Drent confirmed. “You expect a swift victory against the Dornish and I will not disappoint you” He saluted yet again, but this time he caught himself and stopped the gesture halfway through. Argilac’s smile widened. “I know you won’t!”, he exclaimed, as he placed both hands on Drent’s shoulders. “My newest knight! May you serve me as faithfully as you served my daughter” Argella… Drent could not get rid of the feeling that she had a hand in his unexpected promotion and even if Argilac claimed that this was hardly meant to be an honour, he knew it was exactly that. No longer a soldier, he was a knight now, a leader, a champion of House Durrandon. “Now, Drent, I am sure you wish to spend this night better than in the company of an old fart like me”, Argilac chuckled. “Go and be merry, for one night at least. Seek your friends if you wish, inform them of your new standing and of their upcoming new duties. Or, if you care for my advice, speak to Ser Emphryus. He has once been in quite a similar situation and might be able to help you settle into your new role. Maester Qoherys will seek you out once the celebration has died down, so be ready for that” “I will, your grace”, Drent promised and he meant it. The king accompanied him to the door, but not farther and as he left, the former soldier spotted an almost melancholic expression on Argilac’s face. It seemed the Storm King intended to remain here in solitude for this night and Drent had no intention of changing his mind. Instead, there was a lot he himself had to think about. He was a knight now, after all, Ser Drent Golton. Even the sound of this still seemed ridiculous to him, but he knew this was far from a joke. As the king had promised, there was a weight to his new position and Drent felt it already as he stood there, alone in the hallway. From the distance, the joyful sounds of the ongoing celebration reached his ears, men and women cheering and being merry. Drent knew at once that this would be where he would head to. Torrence and Edonia were there and on a different day, under different circumstances he wouldn’t have hesitated to join them and tell them all about his conversation with the Storm King. They had been through a lot together and no matter his standing, these two would remain his friends. But he was a knight now and hard as it was, perhaps there were different people to talk to right now, men who had stood above him so far, but who were now his equals if they accepted him as such. Men such as Emphryus Dresfel or Landry Swann, who could surely help him settle in his new role. [Seek out Torrence and Edonia] [Seek out Emphryus Dresfel]
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Post by diversegnu on Dec 23, 2021 5:26:37 GMT
[Seek out Emphryus Dresfel] Should probably talk to Emphryus first before telling Torrence and Edonia that he's their new commander.
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Dec 23, 2021 12:33:46 GMT
[Seek out Emphryus Dresfel]
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Post by TheAPlegends on Dec 25, 2021 22:04:16 GMT
[Seek out Emphryus Dresfel]
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Post by GMS Freeman on Dec 26, 2021 8:37:05 GMT
[Seek out Emphryus Dresfel]
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Dec 28, 2021 6:17:38 GMT
[Seek out Torrence and Edonia] Don't forget your friends! Be less Vasquez-y, more Rhysie.
Argilac is truly a compelling character. Don't have a particular quote that stood out because they were all solid. Really got into him here, in the one-on-one format. It was real cool to see Drent get knighted too!!! Felt like it was bound to happen eventually, but still awesome! Going to Dorne? Well, probably cool story-wise (maybe some PoV crossovers, mhm?) but maybe not best for Drent's health.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 31, 2021 18:36:33 GMT
[Seek out Torrence and Edonia] Don't forget your friends! Be less Vasquez-y, more Rhysie. Argilac is truly a compelling character. Don't have a particular quote that stood out because they were all solid. Really got into him here, in the one-on-one format. It was real cool to see Drent get knighted too!!! Felt like it was bound to happen eventually, but still awesome! Going to Dorne? Well, probably cool story-wise (maybe some PoV crossovers, mhm?) but maybe not best for Drent's health. Super random coincidence here, but in Drent's submission, he is actually called Rhys once! I can only presume that this was the name his submitter originally went with before changing it, or they just really enjoyed TFTB and it was a freudian slip. I am glad to hear this, that was my intention here. Argilac is actually my favourite among the kings (including Aegon, whom I am ambivalent towards) and I wanted to give him some further attention. A distant second place goes to Harren Hoare of all possible candidates, I'm just having way too much fun writing him. Yeah, as Argilac said, people have received a knighthood for less and Drent did end up saving the new Lord Buckler's life. If not for Argilac now, Bernard would have done it himself next time they meet. But I am glad you enjoyed it, this was a massive moment for Drent as a character and will completely change the dynamic he has with the other characters in his storyline. This particular storyline has been planned for many years now, ever since I first received the character of Symond Brownwell, captain of Argilac's forces in the Dornish Marches, who has first been mentioned in one of Drent's first parts in Book 1 Chapter 4. Ever since, I knew that I wanted Drent to go there at some point and everything else just kinda fell into place. There's definitely potential for PoV crossovers, Ysilla is in the same general region (albeit on the border to the Reach, not on the border to the Stormlands) and we're also going to see a new PoV character at the court of Sunspear next chapter (originally planned for this chapter, but I realized that there's already enough storylines going on at the moment and I first need to end one or two before introducing another one ), so there is definitely some potential.
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Dec 31, 2021 19:03:11 GMT
The Voting is closed!
Drent is going to speak to Emphryus Dresfel first This was perhaps not as big of a choice, but not an inconsequential one either. Drent's new status will have a severe impact on his old relationships, his friends, but also his superiors. Whom he chooses to be seen with is now just as important as what he says and how he behaves. He's a knight now and with it come certain expectations. Therefore, it might be prudent to speak to Emphryus first, given that he has a lot of experience being a knight. The next part will, unfortunately, not be out today and therefore not be out this year. I have tried my best, but I don't want to rush the part either just for the sake of releasing another one before the end of the year. Therefore, it will be the first part of 2022. I do want, however, to write a few words and let you know how the part is progressing, so apologies if anyone did not manage to vote in time. Fact is, just a few days ago marked the seventh anniversary of Forum of Thrones! For seven years I've been writing this story, some of you have been reading it for about as long, some are newer and I am grateful for all of your support. Seriously, though I love this story, I love these characters and I love putting some of them through hell with each new part, I don't think I would have been able to write something for this long without all of you. This story means a lot to me and to know that you enjoy my work is just wonderful. In retrospect, I think this year was a lot better than 2020, where I genuinely struggled with writing, starting this chapter has seriously rekindled my love for FoT and writing in general and I look forward for what 2022 brings. As always, I hope you continue to enjoy it! So, onwards to the next part, it will feature PoV's for Kersea and Ilish, two of our Oldtown PoV's. Last time we saw Kersea, she and Leonard just arrived at the Citdael, where they plan on speaking to Quent, Archmaester of History and estranged brother to Raylansfair's late Maester Eaton. Leonard's last meeting with Quent, all the way back in Book 1, was not a happy one, but Leonard has since realized that he made a mistake back then in not trusting Quent and therefore leaving him and Lucas without an ally in the city back when their relationship with Maron Mullendore soured. So, this return to the Citadel is not an easy one for him. There, they briefly met Magnus Silverstone and his apprentice Bennett, whom they saved from two highwaymen back in Chapter 2. Magnus introduced them to a new friend of his, a certain Edwin Oakheart, son and heir of Lord Devrin Oakheart, who has come to Oldtown with his sister Alicia. You already know that Lord Oakheart is in league with Petyr Vyrwel, though Leonard doesn't and from his past he actually remembers Oakheart fondly. As such, he actually considered it when Edwin asked him for aid. They have tried to gain an audience with Archmaester Quent for a long time now, but while Leonard and Kersea got it due to Vitihho's aid, the Oakheart siblings weren't so lucky. Edwin then asked Leonard and Kersea to at least pass on a message of theirs, which Kersea decided to do. Meanwhile, Ilish and her companion Lawsen arrived at Oldtown in their last part, after having been absent in Chapter 3. They had to flee Raylansfair after Lawsen's status as a Night's Watch deserter was discovered, with Ilish knocking out a Night's Watch recruiter to save him. Now in Oldtown, Ilish was the unfortunate victim of a pickpocket, much to her chagrin, given that she's usually the one picking pockets. They only discovered this after having already found a tavern with a spare room for them. Luckily, a new acquaintance stepped in and offered his aid. He introduced himself as Vogero Forios, a man from Essos who apparently has ties to the new crimelords of Oldtown (though that fact is not yet clear to Ilish). He, alongside his quiet companion/bodyguard Oknis, sat down with Ilish and Lawsen and after realizing their situation, he quickly offered to lend them some money without interest, which Ilish, despite her suspicions about him, eventually accepted. I myself will head out now to a small gathering (like, three people, all very careful and triple-vaccinated, so it's all safe), so I won't be back before tomorrow. As such, I hope you all have a great start into 2022!
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Post by InGenNateKenny on Jan 5, 2022 6:23:59 GMT
The next part will, unfortunately, not be out today and therefore not be out this year. I have tried my best, but I don't want to rush the part either just for the sake of releasing another one before the end of the year. Therefore, it will be the first part of 2022. I do want, however, to write a few words and let you know how the part is progressing, so apologies if anyone did not manage to vote in time. Fact is, just a few days ago marked the seventh anniversary of Forum of Thrones! For seven years I've been writing this story, some of you have been reading it for about as long, some are newer and I am grateful for all of your support. Seriously, though I love this story, I love these characters and I love putting some of them through hell with each new part, I don't think I would have been able to write something for this long without all of you. This story means a lot to me and to know that you enjoy my work is just wonderful. In retrospect, I think this year was a lot better than 2020, where I genuinely struggled with writing, starting this chapter has seriously rekindled my love for FoT and writing in general and I look forward for what 2022 brings. As always, I hope you continue to enjoy it! I'm late, but just wanted to say, it's been my pleasure to have been reading FoT all these seven years! It's kept me entertained for a long time, and I'm so glad you've felt renewed writing it. Seeing you grow as a writer is a delight. Here's to 2022!
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Post by nightshroud on Jan 5, 2022 11:52:54 GMT
I just wanted to say that it has been an incredible journey reading these parts over the years. I don't say this enough, but I am truly grateful that I ran into this story back at January 2015. I was a different person then, and reading these dozen chapters have really helped me grow and see what this community is capabale of. To everyone, thank you. Heres to a great 2022!
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Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Jan 10, 2022 17:21:14 GMT
This took me a bit longer, but the new part is finally out! Thank you for the kind words for the anniversary and as always, thank you for reading. I hope you enjoy this part
Kersea The tower was high, the staircase steep and narrow, only sparsely illuminated through occasional tiny windows. It was not much of a challenge for her, but Kersea had to wonder how a man as old as Archmaester Quent ever got down from here, if he even did so at all. And yet, from up here one could surely see the entire city, Oldtown in all of her splendour and depravity. Quent was surely an unusual choice for an ally, not one she would have picked on her own, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that coming here had been the right decision. Leonard was obviously less certain about it. He seemed nervous, so much that he avoided her gaze instead of meeting it with one of his usual stern glares. And he was quiet as soon as they entered the tower. Just a few moments ago, he had jested with Edwin Oakheart, had accepted his letter and promised to deliver it to the archmaester, but as soon as he touched the first step, his entire demeanour changed. “You alright?”, she asked and he gave her a half-hearted nod, followed by mumbling something to himself. “I didn’t think I’d ever come back here”, he added. “Nor do I want to. Flowers and I… Lucas, we both agreed against Quent. It was a mistake, but it’s not as if he didn’t give us a single reason to trust him back then. Part of me still doesn’t…” She gave him a nod. “I know what you mean”, she admitted. “Just because Mullendore betrayed you doesn’t mean Quent would have been a better choice. Back during my time with Clayton, I…” She paused as she immediately noticed how Leonard’s expression hardened. “Back when you were Butterfly’s killer”, he growled and she quickly averted her gaze. “Yes…”, she mumbled. “Clayton didn’t think I was listening, but I picked up a few bits here and there… the Citadel was not neutral during Butterfly’s war with the Burned Man. He had contacts among the maesters. I don’t know if Quent was involved, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Mullendore still has friends in high places here” “That’s what Quent said as well”, Leonard admitted. “He even mentioned a few of the archmaesters, but I don’t know if I can trust him. Though he was right with one thing. Archmaester Wulvren, the man who kept Dairon safe, he was indeed neutral. Much as I hate to admit it, that speaks in his favour” He had told her this tale before and Kersea had always noticed a certain melancholy to his words, but now there was a visible gloom on his face. By now they had reached the top of the tower, entering a stuffy anteroom dominated by a single, empty desk. “Last time, that’s where Quent’s assistant received us”, Leonard explained. “It seems the old man wants to be alone with us now” In this moment, Kersea noticed that the door was open just finger’s breadth. Though they had been whispering to each other up until now, sound travelled far through this narrow staircase and she had no doubt that he had listened to them for a while now. “And he knows we’re coming”, she confirmed. “Let us not keep him waiting then” She reached for the door, before looking back at Leonard, who gave her a single, determined nod. Then, she pushed it open. Where the antechamber was small and stuffy, Quent’s study was actually huge, more akin to a private library, with several bookshelves separating parts of the room and large maps, each easily five feet wide, decorating the walls. There was a table in the room’s centre, with two empty chairs pulled back. On the other end, his features briefly hidden be the light that shined from the open window behind him sat a thin figure. “You are late, Leonard Constantine”, the figure croaked, an old man’s voice, thin and throaty. “But then again, I suppose I cannot expect punctuality from someone who has already shown such poor judgement in the past” He leant closer and Kersea could see his features at last. Quent was old, easily one of the oldest men she had ever seen, with a sunken face and barely a hair left on his head. His skin had taken on the colour of old parchment, with prominent dark spots, but his small eyes remained as grey as steel and twice as sharp. There was not an ounce of warmth on his face, in fact Kersea spotted malice in his thin smirk. Around his neck, he wore a massive chain of copper links. “Take a seat, please” “Archmaester”, Leonard greeted him, his voice not even nearly as calm as Kersea would have expected, as he sat down, with her taking the chair by his side. “You were expecting us” Quent gave him a slight nod. “I’ve been expecting you ever since you fled from this city, your tail between your legs, leaving behind that girl you came with and roughly half of the other knight. Your friend, what was his name… Lomas?” “Lucas”, Leonard growled, now with a brief, but severe anger in his tone. “Is this why you agreed to receive me once again? To gloat?” Quent shrugged. “Partially”, he replied. “There’s few opportunities for a man as old as me, so I have to cherish them” His smile was thin and dry and it was gone as quick as it came. “Last time we met, I offered you my help, against my own better judgement”, he added and now, his voice was piercing. “You slighted me back then and I know you came to regret it. A little bit of gloating is the least you can expect from me” It was rare to see Leonard like this, this look of utter defeat on his face and compared to his usual pride, this was downright hard to watch. “I believe we have little time for petty grievances”, she interjected, immediately earning the old man’s displeased glare. “I have little time left in general and I alone decide which endeavours to pursue, girl”, he hissed. “Who might you be then?” “I’m Kersea”, she introduced herself, before pausing. Leonard had told her of Quent, of his relation to Maester Eaton, the man Clayton had murdered. “Just Kersea?”, the archmaester hissed and she gave him a nod. “Then what is your angle in this? I know what Constantine wants, what Flowers wanted, but you… you’re a new face” She thought about this for a second, deciding immediately that she could not reveal the full truth here. No matter how fond he had been of his brother or not, she had serious doubts that he would support them should he learn of her involvement in his brother’s death. Yes, Alysanne had procured the poison, Clayton had applied it to Lord Raylan and he had been the one to murder Maester Eaton, but she had spent the weeks leading up to it with scouting the premises, memorizing his schedule, finding routes to enter the keep unseen. Her own guilt was only part of her reason though. “I want revenge”, she replied with a low snarl and Quent gave her a knowing smile. “The second-oldest motive in the world, succeeding wrath”, he told her. “I wager that is part of Constantine’s motive too. It must be a strong urge, so much that it makes you swallow that inflated pride of yours. So much that you come here, begging me for my help” “I’m not begging”, Leonard growled and Quent’s smile widened. “Of course you aren’t”, he chuckled. “But your companion is correct with one thing, I have better things to do than gloat. You made a choice, it was the wrong one and for the rest of your life you have to deal with your guilt” He placed one thin hand on his chest. “I know a thing or two about guilt. Makes you do foolish things. And I haven’t lived for this long by aligning myself with fools” “This is about your brother!”, Leonard snarled. “Maron Mullendore had him murdered” Quent gave him a nod. “I know”, he replied and something about his tone was alarming. It was calm… way too calm for a man whose brother had been killed like that. “I didn’t know it back when last we met, but in the meantime, I did some research. My contacts run deep in this city, but if I can find out, it won’t be too long until others do. Manfred Hightower keeps protecting him for some reason, but he is an old man, almost as old as me. It won’t be long now before someone comes for Ser Maron” “And you’re fine with not being that man?”, Leonard replied sharply. “Your brother…” Quent cut him off at once. “Was a fool!”, he barked. “And don’t speak of him as if you knew him in the short few years you spent in Raylansfair. Eaton was a good man, a better man than me and he loved to show it. He was also a sentimental fool who didn’t know when to look the other way and that got him killed” The archmaester and the knight looked at each other, Leonard clearly furious, Quent deceptively calm. Finally, it was Leonard who broke eye contact first. “If that’s how this is gonna be…”, he hissed. “Damn you… if you’re not going to help, we’ve wasted enough of our time already” He glanced at Kersea, as he rose from his seat. “You coming?” “Wait”, she interjected and to her surprise, he indeed stopped, though he kept his back turned to Quent, only looking at her from the side. “Archmaester Quent… last time Leonard and his friend came here, you’ve been willing to help them, for your brother’s sake… yes, they slighted you, yes they rejected you, but does that mean your reasons for helping us are gone? Your brother has been murdered and we might be your best chance at bringing his killer to justice” Quent narrowed his eyes. “You are mistaken, girl”, he growled. “I did not agree to help Constantine and Flowers because I want justice for Eaton. I owed my brother a favour and the way I see it, I repaid it by hiding his apprentice with Archmaester Wulvren” “Dairon is dead”, Leonard mumbled and Quent gave him a nod. “So I’ve heard”, he admitted. “Not by my hand though. I did what I could to help him. I repaid my debt to Eaton” Kersea shrugged. “Still you want something from us, don’t you?”, she realized. “You wouldn’t have agreed to meet us just to gloat. If you repaid your debt to Eaton… then what do you want from us in exchange for your aid?” This put a devious grin back onto the old man’s face. “How perceptive of you”, he hissed. “It’s true, would I categorically decline your request I wouldn’t have bothered with even receiving you in the first place. I know whom you are up against, I have no reason to ever support that man, so… I have called you here so that you can give me a reason why I should support you” Leonard narrowed his eyes. “So this is why I never trusted you”, he growled. “Do you want the few coins I still have to my name, or perhaps my sword? Name your price… archmaester” The title sounded like a curse in his tone. “How excellent of you to ask, Constantine”, Quent replied. “Last time I offered my aid free of charge, but this time it will cost you. But where others would ask for coin, I want you to do me a favour instead, something much more valuable than what little worldly riches you still possess” He looked from Leonard to Kersea, finally resting his gaze on her and unlike Leonard, who avoided eye contact and was visibly trembling with sheer anger, she firmly looked back at Quent. “Before we agree to anything, I want to know how you can help us”, she clarified, earning herself an approving smirk from the old man. “A prudent question”, he agreed. “I already told you that Lord Hightower is protecting Ser Maron. He’s blocking any investigation into his former associate’s shadier past. I can only speculate about his reasons, but as long as he protects Maron, nobody who actually matters in this world will ever care about what he did here in Oldtown” “He made many enemies”, Kersea disagreed and Quent’s smile grew thinner. “And how many of them hold any importance in this world?”, the old man hissed. “Outlaws, orphans, beggars, people who rarely get justice in this world. But if there’s an investigation, if he is accused in public, this might change. If he no longer manages to hide his crimes from the king and from the high lords of the Reach, then not even Lord Hightower can protect him” “And you can force an investigation?”, she asked, to which Quent shook his head. “Not directly, but I know for a fact that the new commander of the city guard has his suspicions about Maron Mullendore”, the archmaester explained. He glanced at Leonard, a cruel smile on his face. “You’d like him, Constantine. He’s a Flowers”, he added. “Once I remove the obstacles in his way, he can launch a proper investigation. That will be your best chance at getting the high and mighty of the Reach to listen” “Sounds good”, Kersea admitted. “What’s the catch then?” Even Leonard seemed almost intrigued by this proposal, despite his burning fury at the archmaester’s prior words. “It’s a simple task”, Quent claimed. “If I were to order someone else to do so, they’d eventually succeed as well, but you’re here already, you’re available and desperate. See, lately there’s a man out on the streets of Oldtown. He’s not a maester, but he uses our recipes, our treatments to heal the ailing” “So he’s competition…”, Leonard realized. Quent sighed. “The Archmaester of Healing is not pleased”, the old man confirmed. “This backalley healer is using Citadel secrets, but that’s not all there is to him. He gets paid in coin, but not exclusively so. Sometimes, he instead takes favours from those unwilling or unable to pay his price in gold. Over the last few months, he has amassed a sizeable amount of these favours. We don’t know what he is using them for, but the whole situation has a few of the maesters on their edge” “Understandable”, Kersea admitted. It was actually not too different among her old colleagues, Clayton and his killers. There were entire guilds of assassins in the east, each hoarding their own poisons or specific murder weapons as if they were simple trade secrets. To use the wrong method in the wrong city could easily gain the wrath of powerful enemies. It seemed odd that the same applied to healers, but she knew how proud the Order of Maesters was about their teachings. “What do you know about this man?”, Leonard asked. Quent was quiet for a moment, before he shook his head. “Almost nothing”, he spoke. “He calls himself Corvus, but even though he seems privy to our secret teachings, we never had a student by that name. His clients described him as polite, gentle even, but aloof and eerie. No one has ever seen his face, for he is hiding it behind a mask” “Like Butterfly’s men”, Kersea hissed and once again, Quent shook his head. The chain links around his neck rattled slightly. “He doesn’t seem to be affiliated with them. His mask looks like some manner of bird, a raven or crow. He covers every inch of his body and never takes that mask off no matter how long it takes to treat his patients” “And no one could provide you with any clue about his identity?”, Leonard asked. Quent chuckled thinly and this time, Kersea saw neither malice nor joy within his expression. “This Corvus is smart”, he growled. “He doesn’t associate with us or with anyone tied to us. Hides his trails, appears only to select customers. We believe he has friends among the city guard, sympathizers who help him, possibly even allies among the maesters who warn him if we get too close to his trail. It’s why I called you here without any witnesses. You’re newcomers in Oldtown and, knowing you, you are way too proud to pick anyone’s side” Leonard clenched his teeth, but even he had to give Quent a disgruntled nod. “We’ll try it then”, he sighed. “Do you have any leads?” “Do you think I’d rely on you if I had any leads?”, Quent hissed. “Even reports of his sightings have gotten rarer lately, but not because he has gotten less active. He knows we’re on his trail, so I decided that the aid of outsiders could be our best chance. You can talk to people who won’t ever speak to one of my agents. You can get aid where the Order of Maesters is denied. You can find Corvus and bring him to me” “High praise”, Leonard growled. “Though one question remains. If we find this man for you, what are you going to do to him? Sounds like he’s helping the people of Oldtown, whereas you just want to get rid of your competition” Quent grimaced. “I can see why you’d think so in your… limited perspective”, he sighed. “The Archmaester of Healing would surely pay a few thugs to drown him in the harbour, but I am not like him. He sees a threat in Corvus, I see an opportunity. I am intrigued by that man, I want to know how he learned of our secrets, how he managed to avoid us for so long, I want to work with him, not against him” Leonard narrowed his eyes. “Last time we met you chose not to trust me”, Quent added. “I hope you have learned your lesson this time” Finally, the knight exchanged a brief look with Kersea. She gave him a nod and he turned back to Quent. “Fine, we’re doing it”, he growled. “But once we find that Corvus, you owe us” Quent’s smile widened. “And I will repay you handsomely”, he promised. “Not that I envy you for that task. Corvus is a phantom. No known associates, changing hideouts, an uncanny ability to disappear when pushed into a corner” “So you have no leads at all?”, Kersea realized and Quent gave her an almost apologetic nod. “I have little faith in Leonard Constantine, so you can believe me when I say I am desperate for any sort of success here”, he revealed. “Rumour has it Corvus has friends among the city guard, that they make the introductions between him and the sickly, but of course they know all about my regular contacts and whenever one of them mentions Corvus, they refuse to cooperate” “But we’re not your regular contacts, thank the Seven”, Leonard replied. “It’s not much, but if Corvus has allies among the city guard, perhaps we can work with them” Quent shrugged. “It is the only lead I know of”, he admitted. “Doesn’t mean it’s the only one out there. You have contacts here in Oldtown, the man who arranged for this meeting for example. He pulled quite some strings to get me to talk to you. Perhaps he’d be willing to help you out again” “Vitihho…”, Kersea mumbled. “He’s… reliable” As she spoke these words, she saw hesitation on Leonard’s face. “I don’t know about that man…”, he mumbled. “He has connections, but he’s not the type of man I’d like to be indebted to. Do you think we should ask him for even more aid?” That was a question she couldn’t answer straight away. Vitihho had been Alysanne’s friend, as much as someone like Alysanne had been capable of forming such a connection. But that didn’t make him their friend by default and just because he helped them out with Archmaester Quent didn’t mean she could just trust him beyond that. He was an option, yes, but perhaps it would be more prudent to avoid getting him involved even further. And yet, was the city guard truly that much better of an option? Each of those guardsmen once worked under Maron Mullendore, after all, and she refused to believe that none of them knew what he had been up to. [Ask Vitihho for help] [Ask the city guard for help]
Ilish It was early in the morning when Ilish woke up to the sound of someone screaming. The sun had barely risen over the narrow alleyways of Oldtown and somewhere close by, someone was already regretting their decision to sleep outside. More than ever before, Ilish knew she had made the right choice by accepting Vogero’s aid. As he had promised, he had paid for a room for her and one for Lawsen and he had even given them a decent meal free of charge, a bowl of hot stew with pork sausage and slices of bread. They had spent the evening in the company of Vogero and his quiet companion Oknis, pouring down watered ale and back then, Ilish had felt better than she had in a long time. The reality of her situation dawned upon her as she heard those screams. Somewhere, probably a few alleyways away from her, someone was mugged, possibly assaulted and killed. It happened in cities as large as this one. Yet another reason to return to Raylansfair… but she couldn’t. The wandering crow was looking for Lawsen and now he was looking for her as well. She had to stay here for a while, she somehow had to make it work and she had to look out for Lawsen as well, even if he seemed capable of looking after himself. She owed him that much. But if not for Vogero, their first night in Oldtown could have easily been their last. As she got dressed, Ilish had to think about how fortunate they had been. In a different tavern, in a different part of Oldtown, nobody would have taken pity on them. Vogero, however, had paid for their rooms and though he made it clear he expected them to repay him in the future, his generosity was nothing if not suspicious. Ilish was not above accepting his aid, but she would remain careful. He had done nothing to earn her distrust, but neither was she ready to just trust his words. As she made her way down into the taproom, she had to wonder just what he was expecting from her and from Lawsen. They had not a single coin to their name right now and though she was decent at picking pockets, there was a certain risk involved in a city like this. Back in Raylansfair, Audrey had kept an eye on her, protecting her from true danger, but here she had no one. The taproom itself was almost empty, save for the massive, brooding figure of Oknis, who was sitting by himself at the counter. Neither Vogero nor Lawsen were anywhere to be seen. The brute glanced at her, his dark features showing no reaction as she approached him. “Good morning”, she greeted him, which he replied to with a cold nod. Several cups of ale stood in front of him and silently, he pushed one of them over to Ilish. “Thanks”, she mumbled, as she took a sip. He growled something in return and she took it as acknowledgement. “You’re… not talking very much, are you?” He shook his head, but once again said nothing. It had been the same just last night. Vogero had done the talking, he had spoken freely of his time here in Oldtown, of what she had to look out for, even a bit of the Free Cities, where he had spent most of his life so far. He himself was a Lorathi, from one of the Free Cities to the far east, the son of a merchant who had taught him his craft. She was not foolish enough to believe that this was the full truth. Vogero was not a travelling merchant, at least not just and Oknis was not just his bodyguard. There was something odd about their relationship, an unspoken bond, yet there didn’t seem to be any affection between the two either. It didn’t seem like this was just about coin. Perhaps a debt that ran deeper than gold alone. And yet, Ilish remained nothing if not curious. “So… Oknis, may I ask you something?”, she asked, giving him her brightest smile. The brute glanced at her from the side, before downing a mug of ale in one go. He did not reply, but kept looking at her, as if he was waiting for her to continue. “It’s… about you and Vogero”, she began and somehow, his expression darkened even further. “I was wondering… where did you two meet?” Oknis narrowed his eyes, but he did not reply. Instead, he reached for another mug, staring into his ale as if he was pondering wether to reply or just drink in silence. “Essos”, he then growled. It was clear this was the most precise answer she’d get from him and he immediately turned back to his mug. “Meereen…”, he then added, much to Ilish’s surprise. Indeed, he had the amber skin of the Ghiscari and now that she watched him more closely, she saw the scars on his arms, a myriad of fine, white cuts. “You were a pit fighter…”, she realized. He gave her a quiet nod. “Now I fight only for Vogero”, he growled. “It’s a simple life. No questions, no concerns, no doubts. Vogero demands, I obey” That, on the other hand, sounded almost ominous. “I wonder what he did to earn such loyalty”, she mumbled and for a second, Oknis’ eyes widened. “He…”, he began, before he paused. “None of your business” Just a second later, the door got pushed open. Vogero himself walked into the taproom from outside, with Lawsen close behind him. The Lorathi seemed pleased to see her, as a warm smile appeared on his face. “You’re up early!”, he greeted her and she replied with a nod. “Couldn’t sleep anymore”, she replied. “So I got up and, guess what, I just had the loveliest little chat with Oknis here” As soon as she said this, Vogero’s expression darkened. “Did you now?”, he replied. The Ghiscari rolled his eyes. “Barely talked”, he growled and she chuckled. “But it was lovely nonetheless”, she replied, but the moment she placed a hand on her shoulder, he shot her a glare, followed by a feral growl so vicious that she immediately recoiled. This brought a new smile to Vogero’s face. “Now, my new friend, please don’t startle Oknis”, he was quick to advice her. “He is slow to warm up to strangers and has a fiery temper, but I dare say I’ve grown fond of him over our shared travels” Ilish gulped, as she looked back at Oknis. For a second, he had seemed like a vicious beast, a wounded animal more than a human, but now he was calm again, staring into his mug. “He’s loyal and unyielding, traits I cherish in a person” He glanced at the empty mugs in front of Oknis and his smile disappeared again. “You know you shouldn’t be drinking this early, friend”, he reminded him, but Oknis merely shrugged. “How else am I supposed to pass the time?”, he growled. Vogero let out a small sigh, followed by an apologetic smile towards Ilish. “As I said, loyal and unyielding”, he mumbled. “Dense as a rock, maybe, but a loyal rock” She chuckled to herself, but a tense sensation in her gut remained as she looked back at Oknis. Perhaps she had underestimated him, but for a second just now he seemed perfectly fine with killing her. “What did you two discuss anyways?”, she asked, looking from Vogero to Lawsen, who was grabbing the seat next to her. “Me and Vogero had a bit of a talk”, Lawsen replied calmly. He glanced at Vogero, who pushed himself between Ilish and Oknis. “Not as fruitful as I would have liked”, the Lorathi admitted. “But we came to an agreement, concerning Lawsen’s debt to me” Immediately, Ilish narrowed her eyes. “So you are one of these men after all”, she realized, which brought a dry smirk back to the man’s handsome face. “A kindness I have done to you and still you misunderstand me”, he chuckled. “Of course I want to be repaid, I think I made that quite clear last night. But as I promised you back then, I don’t intend to force you into anything. I won’t threaten or intimidate you, I won’t order Oknis here to break your bones if you don’t pay” The Ghiscari glanced at them from the side and Ilish knew without a doubt that he’d do a lot more than just break a few bones if Vogero were to order it. “I saw you were in need last night, so I offered to lend you the money. You accepted and, in time, I expect to be repaid in full” Ilish gave him a nod. “Fair enough”, she admitted. “Sorry if I offended you” This brought another pearly-white smile to his face. “My dear, I am not so easily offended”, he clarified. “In any way, I made Lawsen an offer, a way to repay me and earn some coin for himself. We spoke for a bit, took a walk together, Lawsen listened to me and eventually rejected my offer” He was calm as he said this and Ilish could not even begin to tell if he was displeased or actually as respectful of her friend’s decision as he seemed. “No hard feelings”, Lawsen spoke up. “But I prefer to repay my debts on my own” Vogero shrugged. “In the end, it will be your loss”, he claimed. “But as long as I get my coin, I care little” For a second, Ilish could see clearly that he was displeased, but this expression was gone quickly again, replaced by a charming smile. “But I am glad we had this talk”, he added. “It is always good to know what to expect… and when” He turned to Ilish. “Which brings me to you” “The same offer, I suppose?”, Ilish asked and though she kept her smile, her voice cooled notably. This was more akin to what she had expected when Vogero offered his aid. Nobody in Oldtown was doing anything out of the kindness of their heart, yet still he had helped them out nonetheless. Repaying him was only good and right and the least she could do was to hear him out. “Indeed”, Vogero confirmed. “I pride myself with an eye for talent and I’ve been watching you two last night. Lawsen here is a liar, perhaps not the best I’ve ever seen but a decent one nonetheless” Her friend had the decency to look ashamed at the accusation, but he nonetheless gave him a nod. “It’s necessary for men like me to survive”, he spoke, to which Vogero responded with a knowing smile. “And in a city like Oldtown, it allows you to thrive”, he promised, before his gaze fell onto Ilish. “And you… I know the likes of you. Not to accuse you of anything, but yesterday night I slept on top of my purse. You’re a pickpocket, aren’t you?” Had this conversation been between her and anyone else, Ilish would have been alarmed. Truth be told, she still was, for Vogero’s deduction was eerily correct. “How do you know?”, she gasped. His smile grew thinner and for a second, she saw something else behind his gaze, something dangerous. “Like I said, I know the likes of you”, he growled. “You’ve been thinking about picking a few pockets to repay me, haven’t you?” Immediately, his smile returned, warm and bright and genuine, but Ilish couldn’t shake off the feeling that just like Oknis, this man was a lot more dangerous than he had seemed just last night. “Guilty as charged”, she confirmed, earning herself a chuckle from Vogero. “Makes it kinda embarrassing that you’ve lost your purse, right?”, he replied. “But I am not here to gloat, nor to threaten you with what I just uncovered. I am here to make you an offer. Mutually beneficent, the sort that lets you repay me while earning a bit for yourself as well” “Sounds good”, Ilish admitted. “Almost a bit too good. What’s the catch and what do you get out of this?” Vogero placed one hand on his chest. “No catch”, he claimed. “But indeed, I do get something out of this. I’m not doing this because I’m such a kind man. Allow me to elaborate” She gave him a nod and he continued immediately. “I’ve lived in Oldtown for a while now and during my stay here, I have made numerous contacts, men and women who are of use to me just like I am of use to them. In the past, I had dealings with Aeron Blacksails, the pirate king of the Stepstones. Not long ago, I was one of the few men in Oldtown who could count both Butterfly and the Burned Man to his acquaintances” “From what I’ve heard on the streets, it’s dangerous to have ties to Butterfly lately”, Lawsen interjected. Vogero narrowed his eyes and his smile faded, but he gave him a reluctant nod. “Fortunately, I have foreseen the changing of the tide”, he replied. “I have abandoned both of those men months ago and pledged myself to someone else entirely” His gave Lawsen a mild glare for the interruption, but his charming smile returned as he looked back at Ilish. “My current benefactor is a a man named Robert Tavner. Uneducated minds would think me his employee, but it is more of a mutual partnership. I work with him, not for him” “Tavner…”, Ilish mumbled. “I know of Butterfly and the Burned Man, but it’s the first I ever heard that name” Vogero gave her an enthusiastic nod. “As it should be!”, he proclaimed. “Robert has kept to himself for a while now. He waited patiently while Butterfly and the Burned Man tore each other apart. He made himself invaluable to key figures here in the city and now it is his time to pick up the pieces his predecessors left” “Yeah, that doesn’t sound like you’re working for him at all”, Ilish replied dryly. This time, instead of the amused smile she would have expected, Vogero briefly narrowed his eyes. It seemed this was a sore spot for him indeed. “I am working with him”, he corrected her in a calm, but stern tone. “More precisely, I have an eye for talent. Take Oknis here, without my intervention he would have been cut down years ago in the fighting pits of Meereen. But I saw something within him, I freed him and now he is so much more than he would have been without me” “So you’re looking for talents”, Ilish realized, which he confirmed with a nod. “Not just talents”, he clarified. “Anyone who can be of use. I believe you and Lawsen could both make some decent coin in Robert Tavner’s employ. Lawsen refused, unfortunately, but I am willing to make you the same offer. Come with me, meet with Robert Tavner and hear him out. If you decide to work for him, you will easily make enough coin to repay me” “And if I refuse?”, Ilish asked, to which Vogero shrugged. “Then you can leave again”, he claimed. “Robert does not force anyone to work for him. But the least you can do is hear him out” His smile returned, wide, bright and genuinely charming. “What do you say? Would you do this for me?”, he asked. “If you want to, I can set up a meeting by tomorrow. Robert will surely receive you and if he has any use for you, he will make you an offer” [Meet with Robert Tavner] [Refuse to meet with him]
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Post by drdestroyer18 on Jan 10, 2022 22:12:42 GMT
[Ask the city guard for help] [Meet with Robert Tavner]
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Post by diversegnu on Jan 11, 2022 9:49:36 GMT
[Ask the city guard for help] [Refuse to meet with him]
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Post by nightshroud on Jan 16, 2022 7:48:24 GMT
[Ask the city guard for help] I think this is probably the safer option because there are some good city guard characters that have no connection to Mullendore, so its interesting to see if what I think happpens actually does. Keresea can gain a valuable ally if so [Meet with Robert Tavner] Only fair to give it a chance and feel him out, don't think there is much risk involved in this one
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