-"And who are you?" The proud lord said, "That I must bow so low?"-
Robert Reyne sat on the battlements of Castamere, the hall of his family. It was a warm summer evening, with a breeze from the west, carrying the cool refreshment of the Sunset Sea. He was smoking a pipe of good, Northern tobacco from Flint's Finger. This is the life. He thought as he popped his head back and enjoyed the setting of the sun. He was startled with the sound of hooves in the dark. With nothing to go on but the sound of the trampling, he guessed there should be about a dozen riders. Never trust the sound of riders in the night. Some maester once had said. Robert jumped up, straighted out his tunic and putted out his pipe. He ran down the escalades, that came out in to the porterhouse.
The captain of the Household Guard was an impressive man, with broad shoulders and very thick neck. His face was decorated with a giant moustache, that was as silver as the tunic he wore. The thick scar on his cheeck was as red as the lion on his chest. He commanded 50 other soldiers of the Guard in Castamere. There were another 500 spread out over the other castles of the Reynes. In war time he commanded all of them as personal guard of the Lord of Castamere, Robert's father, Damion the second of his name.
"Riders in the night Balon, about a dozen." Robert said to the Captain.
"All right little lord, Devos, run to the barracks an get twenty men, tell them to line up at the gate, and to bring spears." A small boy dressed in Reyne colors spurted away. "You better go and tell your lord father about the riders, my lord." Balon said. "He'll want to prepare to meet them."
Robert nodded and ran off to the main hall, where his family was dining. When he came through the main door, his father looked up.
"Ah, Robert, dear son, have you come to grace us with your presence?" Lord Damion said mockingly.
"Not quite my lord, I came to tell you that riders are approaching. The hour is to dark to tell colors, but I think Casterly Rock." Robert said, as he made a small bow before his father. He looked up and looked in his father's eyes. The cold blue eyes pierced in his own. The two looked very much alike, even though Lord Damion was nearing 50, he still looked very much alive and healthy, whilst his youngest son was only 16, they were almost copies of each other. They had the same eyes, the same sharp nose.
Lord Damion had had 6 children, of whom 4 were alive this day, his eldest son and heir, Roland sat at his right at the dining table, and next to him was the second son, Tommen, both looked more like their mother. The place next to Tommen was empty, for that was Robert's, but at the seat next to his, a little girl sat, Elenya, the daughter of lord Damion. At Lord Damion's left sat his master-at-arms, ser Henry of Deep Wood, and Maester Aldun, maester of the citadel.
"All right then boy," Lord Damion said, "Fetch Red Rain, and my Castamere cloak, we'll give them a warm welcome."
"At once my lord." Robert ran out of the main hall, up the stairs to his father's personal quarters. Outside stood a guard, one of the Household's, by the look of his uniform.
"I'm here to pick up my father's sword and cloak, we have visitors from the Rock." The guard grinned, "You'd better hurry then lad, we wouldn't want the Lannisters to miss out on the sight your lord father wishes to give 'em." The guard understood, there was a long line of rivalry between the Reynes of Castamere and the Lannisters of Casterly Rock. Both families were related and had been in line for the Throne of the Rock nearly 300 years ago, and even though the Lannisters had won that war, they still didn't trust the Reynes. The fact that every Lannister for the past 500 years had been trying to get his hands on Red Rain, the Valyrian steel sword of the Reynes, didn't help diplomatic relations at all.
Robert walked up to the standard in which the sword was placed. The pummel and guard were made of a silver and Valyrian steel alloy, the grip was made of red dragonleather. The blade was pure Valyrian steel, with a red shine in it, hence it's name. The scabbard was something special as well, it was made out of the horn of the very dragon who owned the skin used for the grip. In summary, the sword was extremely precious and very desired by a lot of noblemen. Robert took it from the standard, grabbed the cloak and ran back downstairs.
"About time you got back, quickly help me with the cloak." As his father spoke Robert noticed that in his absence servants had removed the tables in front of the increment on which the Seat of Castamere stood. His father had taken his place on the Seat, with two smaller chairs next to it. One for the heir, and one for the maester. A mass table was placed in front of them, and the other tables stood lower, and crossways from the seat. The lords and ladies of the court where called out of their chambers to welcome the Lannisters with a lavish feast. All of this had happened in less than 10 minutes. Robert smiled with his father's efficiancy, the Lannisters would be well received, all in name of subtle hostility. Servants were quickly lighting the fire in the middle of the mass hall, as other brought wine and cold appetizers to the table. Robert guessed that a couple of pigs were being roasted at the very instant, his father left nothing to chance. He helped his father buckle Red Rain around his waist.
"Good lad," his father said with a soft small on his face, "let's receive the Lannisters." He gave a sign at the castellan as I rushed to my seat.
The main door swung open, and 15 men, in Lannister red and gold came in, carrying a pile of swords on their arms.
"What is the meaning of this?" Lord Damion said furiously "Have you forgotten the laws of hospitality? Why are you bearing naked steel in my hall?"
The front Lannister removed his helmet. A flock of typical golden Lannister hair was shown. He smiled apologetically, "A thousand apologies my dear cousin. For that is what we are is it not? Two noble families bound by blood of long ago. The arms we bear are from fallen soldiers in service of the Kingdom of the Rock, brave soldiers whose arms were retrieved in battles from three hundred years ago untill now."
Lord Damion frowned. "Who are you to bring those arms in my hall?"
The Lannister smiled, "I am Prince Tybalt of the Rock."
"You're a long way from the Rock, your Grace." The voice of the Lord of Castamere sounded ice cold, and his blue eyes pierced in those of the prince. The prince looked away uneasily. "I assume it's with a reason you stand before my, with only 14 knights with you. Time is probably of the essence. So come forth with it."
The prince scraped his throat, "I would have your sword, my lord."
Lord Damion looked in surprise, "My sword your Grace? I thought our families had an agreement? You took the realm, we took the sword." The lords and ladies in the hall laughed at his words. Damion raised his hand and the noise stopped.
"My father calls his bannermen for war." The prince said, offended by lord Damions joke.
"And against who might that be? The Iron kingdom? The Reach? It seems the Lannister kings have a lot of enemies to choose from if we want to avenge those who have fallen." Again laughter in the hall.
"The Iron kingdom has invaded Golden Tooth, your neighbors, two days ago. My King wants to strike them before they reach the regions capital. He hopes for your assistance in the matter, as his closest vassel who can raise a large enough army to make a difference." Prince Tybalt said. "He calls you to rally your men and ride for oxcross, from where the army of Lord Marbrand will launch a joint attack against the Ironmen. You are to meet with him in three days."
Lord Damion smiled. "And our beloved king? When will his host arrive?" Prince Tybalt opened his mouth. "No," interrupted lord Damion, "Say nothing. It falls unto the vassals to solve this one. Our beloved king will join us when he is ready, will he not?"
Prince Tybalt looked furious at Lord Damion. Surpressing his anger, he manged to say "Indeed he will my lord."
"All right then," lord Damion proclaimed, "In the morrow we call the bannermen. Tonight we feast! No one should be sent to war without a proper meal!" The lords and ladies applauded in delight as the servants, who had been waiting for this queue, brought in roasted pork, chicken and other delights for the noblemen. "Your Grace, if it pleases you, please, join the meal." the prince thanked him and the Lannisters were seated at the far end of the hall, but the prince was placed next to lord Damion, but not on the increment.
You can say a lot of things about my father, but he knows how to talk to royalty, Robert thought, even though he could hardly have been more insulting, the prince has nothing to be angry for.