osite2-audiotest

by Hankton

an audiotest of stuff not ready to publish

1. tridentforged1

Either this was going to be the greatest thing ever done that will launch my name into infamy or this was going to be the stupidest thing that I will ever do that will have me reviled as a stupid man who got himself and thousands of others brutally killed, because of...because of what exactly? They certainly didn't know why I was doing this bullshit.

The maesters will come up with their theories. The singers and the mummers will come up with far more entertaining reasons that may or may not be based wholly in truth.

Well, fuck them. I didn't give a fuck.

They can talk when everything was over and done with.

"Edmyn, they are here." Ser Patrek of Fairmarket said, riding up to me.

"About time." I muttered underneath my breath, my hose pawing at the ground underneath me. "I could hear the sons of bitches from several leagues away."

Peering through the branches and the foliage, I could see who 'them' was. It was a long column of men dressed in black mail and scale, all with a various myriad of weapons. I could see cruel looking axes along with cruel looking swords, maces, warhammers and every else that looked like it could end the life of a man.

I saw some on horses, maybe a couple hundred and the rest were on foot in a surprisingly orderly column that I had not expected of them. I saw the red stallion of Bracken on yellow and the dead weirwood and ravens of House Blackwood, but those banners were more tattered and ragged than the one that was held the most prominent. A banner that had two silver chains crossing between a gold longship on black, a green pine on white field, red grapes on gold and a raven on a blue sky.

The banner of House Hoare.

Never thought I would find myself inserted into a ASOIAF character before. I mean, you read about those things. They just didn't happen to you. They weren't supposed to be real, and yet, here I am, inserted into the body of Edmyn fuckin' Tully.

I still didn't have a fucking clue who this fucker was.

This was probably also going to be one of the shortest said inserts in the history of inserts. I was about to commit treason to a very cruel man, who, if he takes me alive, was going to make sure I regretted my choice of trying to end his reign of terror in the Riverlands very personally.

In other words, it was best that we won this little rebellion or in the worst case scenario, that I am not taken alive. Because that would suck.

"I hope this works out, Edmyn." Ser Patrek muttered as he closed his visor shut.

I played with my lance for a moment, bringing it in closer and away from me. "It will work." I didn't finish my sentence by saying I hope. I was trying to be the cool, calm, collected leader here. I had to have faith in my plan.

Even if that plan meant charging a little over a thousand horse into a column of what my most optimistic estimates was eight thousand or so men. The only good thing going for us was the fact that I had the terrain advantage being located on a slightly sloping hill and that my horse was hidden in the surrounding woods that the road passed through.

In other words, I was in a perfect ambush point. Why Harren didn't have outriders was beyond me. But then again, this was the moron that was building a stupidly large castle that was bankrupting both the Riverlands and the Iron Islands.

So I didn't expect much in terms of common sense.

Behind me, I could hear the muttering of four hundred men, some saying prayers, others talking quietly to themselves, probably bragging about the glory they were about to earn this day. Well, whatever floated their boat. If I was bound by oaths to follow a moron who didn't know what he was doing into what was probably going to be death trap, then I would pray and try to brag about the shit I was going to be doing this fine, summer's day.

I had split my force of over a thousand horse into four over-sized companies. Two companies hidden on opposites sides of the road. My company and the other on this side of the road was the first one going to make the charge, to get the attention of Harren and his ilk. Then the other company was going to come from the other side.

Pretty basic in terms of planning nothing revolutionary. I certainly didn't think myself any kind of a battle commander, but this seemed pretty fine with me.

The creaking of wood attracted me to the mangonels that had been pushed up to the front of the lines. I didn't know which was better, a mangonel or a trebuchet, but a trebuchet was fucking massive and would have taken more time to build than a mangonel apparently, so we had gone for the mangonel route.

And it was a shame that we didn't actually try to test out the ranges, but whatever. YOLO.

I raised up a closed fist as the mangonels were loaded with the barrels of my special surprise that I hoped will give me victory this day. I waited for the column of ironborn reavers to march into what I thought would be a good position, before I swung my arm forward. "Fire!"

And the mangonels loosed their deadly package.

When I woke up this morning, I wondered why I had found myself in my room. I mean, I had come back from a night out and had passed out on the sofa. I was one of those people that could remember little things like that, so I was curious as to why I was in my room.

Did someone carry me to my room? Which would be weird and rather unsettling cause my roommates were a country away.

Then I started recalling things that were not my memories, but at the same time, were my memories. It was as if I was watching someone live out my life in third person, who was clearly not me, yet obviously was.

Eventually, I stumbled upon a name in my memories, Edmyn Tully.

The name didn't really ring any sort of bells. I didn't know anyone with a ridiculous, clearly, special snowflake name like Edmyn, nor was I aware of any Tullys. Perhaps it was the name of some random minor that I had met during the night?

My memories of said drinking binge were hazy and didn't give me any definite answers.

Querying these strange memories even more as I continued to lie in this bed, I came upon something that gave me more of a definite answer, Riverrun. I was in Riverrun. And I only knew of one place with the name of Riverrun.

I was pleasantly surprised I wasn't panicking. Or perhaps I was going to have my bout of panicking at a later date, but clearly not at this moment in time.

I had read the books, some of them anyway. I couldn't remember all of the details, but I certainly could remember that Westeros was a bitch of a place to live.

Speaking of which, who the fuck is Edmyn Tully? I cannot literally recall anyone called fucking Edmyn fuckin' Tully.

It wasn't Edmure for starters. If it was an Edmure, I would have known, because I certainly didn't have any memories relating to a Catelyn, Littlefinger, Lysa, Brynden or Hoster Tully.

So who the fuck was Edmyn fuckin' Tully?

Okay, I would admit that fixating on trying to find out who I had been inserted into was probably staving off the panic that I so clearly wanted to do, or it was because Edmyn Tully was not the type of person to panic so easily. Since I was him now, that was probably true.

In search of even more answers of some kind, I had come to learn a few points from my memories.

I was in Riverrun, which was in the Riverlands, which was in Westeros. That was simple enough. That was when I learned things started going weird.

For starters, House Hoare was a thing. Harren the Black was a thing. The Gardeners were still a thing. The Durrandons were a thing.

The entire Seven Kingdoms were still a thing before the Targaryens had come over and said. "Yo, I'm just gonna conquer you because I have dragons and shit and there's really nothing you can do about it, mate. So deal with it."

So I was a Tully whilst the Harren the Dick was still a thing. I certainly knew what I was going to be doing for the next foreseeable future until Aegon decides to come and sort out Westeros.

I was going to keep my head and down, and not attract any sort of attention. That was the plan.

An easy plan.

I can so keep to that plan.

Last edited: Mar 4, 2018

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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TryingToBeKuw

Nov 26, 2016

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TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Nov 28, 2016

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#9

Apparently, it seemed that I was incapable of following simple plans. Even something as simple as keep my head down and do nothing.

I couldn't even come up with a plausible bullshit explanation for what I was doing right now. I was an opportunistic bastard and I had seen an opportunity and took it. This had all started with the Brackens and Blackwoods, because it just had to be those particular morons that started the shit in the riverlands.

A border dispute, considering what I knew about these morons, I doubt it was something as simple or rational as a border dispute, had somehow escalated to a full-on war between the two Houses. Harren the Dick made a habit of leaving the problems of his vassals to be solved amongst themselves.

That was, if it didn't affect his grand undertaking in any sort of way.

This particular feud between the Blackwoods and Bracken just happened to be doing that. So with his army in tow, he had marched to the lands of the Brackens and Blackwoods put down both houses in separate, successive battles. Funny thing is, apparently from what I could understand, Harren the Dick had just done me a bloody huge favour by stimming the closest rivals to Tully power in the riverlands.

Thanks to that, the Tullys were now essentially the second most powerful House behind the Hoares for obvious reasons in this particular part of Westeros.

This is the part where my opportunism showed itself. The little voice in my head told me that this was about as good a chance as any to stick it to Harren as he led his tired and probably battle weary soldiers back home.

I should have stuck to the plan. It was sensible and prudent. But I didn't. And now, here we are.

The barrels of burning pitch and oil sailed through the air, rotating as they did so. The ironborn didn't even know what was coming to them. The a couple of the first barrels missed the large column of men by a few yards, but when they burst, they spilled their contents of burning pitch onto any unlucky bastard within reach.

Chaos took the ironborn lines as they tried to find the source of the attack as more barrels of pitch flew through the air, crashing into their lines.

I saw one ironborn lordling try to get a hold of his men before a barrel crashed into him, knocking him off his feet and staining him black from head to toe with pitch. He didn't even scream or cry out. More than likely, he was dead.

I indicated towards the squires who had bows out. Some of the arrows happened to be one fire. Hopefully, one of them would hit the pitch or oil and start a fire.

There was nothing more demoralising than seeing a man being burned alive. "Loose!" The bows made a sound as a flight of arrows was launched into the air into the commotion of ironborn below.

Some of them had been quick to realise they were being attacked and were beginning to make a charge at the tree line, even as more barrels came flying in. Then some of them started dropping like flies when the arrows started making their descent.

An arrow took one ironborn straight through the eye. I think he was still alive for a few moments as he staggered about, hands flailing hopeless trying to pull out the arrow sticking into his head, before I lost him in the crowd and surge of bodies running towards us, cries of death and murder coming from them.

Then the fires started.

Some of the fire arrows had found purchase. Small at first, limited to some patch of grass that the ironborn had run around like a stream flowing around a rock in it's path, they were easy enough to avoid. It became more of a problem as the men covered in oil and pitch were struck by the fire arrows and found themselves set alight, running around screaming as they were cooked alive, skin being seared and their blood being boiled inside.

They flailed and screamed and where there had not been a fire in the direction they ran, there was now a fire.

"Hopes that it rains after all this." Ser Patrek of Fairmarket muttered as he looked at the quickly growing fires. The field had slowly been littered with small, separated fires, but now, they were the slowly but surely joining to become one. "That will be a difficult blaze to put out if it grows anymore than it does."

He had a point. "We can make fire breaks." I tried to reassure both him and myself. This had sounded and looked far better in my head than it was beginning to look as reality happened to set in. "I think I just may have inadvertently separated our forces on the other side of that fire."

This was beginning to look like an incredibly stupid idea. I should probably tell the mangonels to stop firing anymore pitch and oil than they were already doing.

Ser Patrek pointed at something in the fires. "The fire isn't that huge yet. Sers Merret and Kyle can go round the flames and strike the ironborn from the sides and rear." He said, motioning with his outstretched finger the route my other forces could make to get around the fire.

Looking it over, it was possible, but that meant that we had to last a little bit longer than I would like. "Perhaps, nothing we can do nothing but hope about it now." I kicked the side of my horse to force it forward before pulling at the reins to make it turn to face the assembled group of knights. "Men of the riverlands!" I shouted at the top of my lungs and hoped my voice would be able to be carried above the sound of war cries and screaming. I raised my lance. "Today is the day we free the riverlands from the tyranny of House Hoare! Onwards, to freedom and glory!"

I really needed to improve on my speeches, because that was godsdamned awful.

Wheeling my horse around, I kicked my horse forward to the sound of cheers behind me as the knights started moving forward and falling into a close as formation as the woods could allow.

By now, the ironborn were charging up the slopping hill that we were on, hidden from sight by the inclination, the woods and the foliage. Therefore, it probably was a surprise to them when armoured knights came pouring out of the woods, lances brought low and their own war cries.

Edmyn Tully, apparently, was something of a tourney knight. Thing is, Harren had pretty much nearly bankrupted the riverlords, so not many tourneys were ever held. The few that were held, by rich houses of the likes of the Brackens, Tullys, Mootons and Freys, Edmyn had made a note for himself in the lists.

That's why I let his instincts take over as I charged into battle, lance couched underneath my armpit. I steadied my breathing and hugged my thighs as close as possible to my horse as it bared down the hill towards the surprised ironborn.

"Riverrun!" I half-heard myself cry out. "For the Riverlands! For honour! For glory!"

Some knights behind me echoed my cry. "Riverrun!"

Ser Patrek also added his own flavouring. "Fairmarket!"

It didn't take long for me to kill my very first man, eyes widened in surprise and perhaps a little fear. His eyes were still wide and surprised as my steel tipped lance ripped another man's head clean off his shoulders, adding to my grim trophy cabinet of skull trophies.

I suppose this is the part were I would say that I felt bad and that I wanted to shake and puke because of what I had just done then I would remember these were assholes that went about raping and pillaging as they wished.

So fuck them.

When my lance didn't find something to stab, my horse more than did enough damage for the both of us. It bowled through men like a bowling ball, sending them spinning and tumbling into the ground, some to be ridden over by the knights that followed behind.

A thrown axe barely grazed my helmet from the side. That took my attention a little, swaying my lance slightly to the side where it shattered on impact when it struck a reaver straight through his chest, a silent scream on the reaver's face as he dropped to the floor like a dead weight.

To the left of me, some several hundred yards away, Ser Garrett and his company surprised the ironborn that had been turning to converge on the position that my company had attacked. They had been caught unaware, the front ranks having already turned to face us instead of the woods.

Ser Garrett's charge was devastating to say the least. In my case, I suppose they had been expecting some kind of attack, but Ser Garrett and his men had come out of nowhere as far as they were concerned and in doing so, had brought the hurt.

Like our own charge, Ser Garrett's horse was bowling through the ironborn as the momentum of their downhill charge carried them forward, lances prickling and stabbing as they went, armour glowing silver in the day.

With my lance gone, I drew out my scabbard with a quick motion, the sound raspy and bloody. Then I started swinging like a mad man at any ironborn that was in reasonable enough range for me to take a swipe at. I suspect if this was from overheard, the scene of this particular charge would have been something reminiscent of the charge of the Rohirrim in Pelanor Fields against the army of Mordor.

Just with a lot less horses and men. Against men instead of orcs.

Oh gods, and no Olephants I hoped.

The hill had given us an advantage in momentum, but we were beginning to lose our momentum the deeper we buried ourselves into the ironborn lines. I wondered how many my knights were left. We were all heavily armoured or as best as we could meet the criteria of heavily armoured.

The ironborn were beginning to try and drown us in body, clambering and climbing over each other to get the first chance at one of us. If I didn't know any better, I swore they were trying to come for me. I knew I shouldn't have worn my prettiest dress for this date. I should have gone out in my rags.

Stupid ironborn and their iron price.

"Die Tully!" One of them shouted.

An overhead swing of my sword of castle-forged steel was more than enough to split the man's face, my cut having gone through his eye. "No, you die." I don't think he heard me as by then, I was already being accosted by more ironborn.

I whanged my sword onto a decently made helmet of one reaver that sent him stumbling away from me, only to have his head crushed in by the morningstar of one of my knights who was then pulled down from his horse by a thousand reaching, grubby pairs of hands, fighting and cursing all the way as he swung his morningstar back and forth. I made a quick prayer for him.

A trident that gleamed white in the sun scraped and made a sound as it travelled across my breastplate. I wheeled my horse around to face the attacker responsible, but that gave the reaver the chance to stab at my horse, catching my poor destrier in the neck.

Betsy, I decided to call her Betsy, wasn't going to go down like a chump though. She let out a cry as she reared back, nearly throwing me off, and started lashing out with her legs. I saw one of her legs cave in the man's ribs like all the armour he was wearing wasn't even there.

I wisely threw myself of my horse as I remembered that it probably wouldn't be a good thing for me to be trapped underneath my horse. Landing in the grass, I rolled to my feet, sword at the ready as ironborn converged on me.

I was a dead man, but well, at the very least, I wasn't going to go out like a complete and utter chump.

"To your lord!" Ser Patrek rallied the knights as he appeared out of nowhere, his horse leaping into the morass of men that had been gunning for me, his warhammer crushing, caving and oblitirating anything that came close. "Protect your lord!" He shouted as he circled around me on his horse, fighting of any challengers that wished to do me harm, with each shout, rallying even more knights to my location.

It was at this point that I would very much like for Ser Merret and Ser Kyle to make their appearance, whenever they felt like it.

One of the reavers broke through the cordon that was being set around me and charged right for me, a nasty looking axe in hand. He brought it down in mighty chop that I held back with my shield. The axe bit into my oak shield so much, that he had to jerk hard to pull it back out when I cut at him to open up his belly.

His stupid mail stopped that from happening though. "You wouldn't have happened to have been the one that tossed an axe at me would you?" I asked, swiping at his head, arms and thighs. His shirt of mail made it a problem to cut at him properly, but this will have to do.

There were some rather important veins in those part of the body.

He didn't get the chance to answer as Ser Patrek caved in his head from behind. The knight pulled out his warhammer and I watched the body drop lifelessly to the ground. "I had him."

"I swore to your lord father and mother I would look after you." the aged knight bit out. "I won't fail in my oath, even if my wits leave me be. Look," he swept his warhammer around them. "The rest of the horse comes from behind."

It was a bit difficult to see what Ser Patrek was trying to make me see since I was ground level and he wasn't, but I could certainly make out war cries coming from the opposite direction that we had made our charge from.

"Are they breaking?" I asked, taking in my surroundings. I might have had a protective cordon of knights around me that held a disciplined shield wall against the ironborn, but one could never be too careful.

Ser Patrek dropped his head slightly, a thrown spear just barely missing him before he raised his head once more, eyes burning to the point of glowing behind his visor. "They have been struck from the front and now from the flank and rear. They will break." He sounded mighty confident about that.

"I hope you are right." I looked around though at the mass of men trying to break through the barrier set around me. I could see other knights still riding around, running over men and cutting them down, their movement somewhat sluggish. How long had this been going on? I didn't even feel tired. "Desperate men fight all the more harder, Ser Patrek."

"And desperate men run all the harder."

Last edited: Nov 28, 2016

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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TryingToBeKuw

Nov 28, 2016

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TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Nov 29, 2016

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#19

"You are fucking dead, Tully!"

Harren Hoare was a cruel man. This was further punctuated by the fact that he also happened to be cruel looking. Small, dark beady eyes, black as night and empty as space glared at me such a burning passion, I would have taken him for a passionate man. The crown of his head glistened as his hair receded to the back, his skin showing the lines and tear of age and his teeth, whatever were left of them, stained yellow.

Apparently, he didn't believe in taking care of his teeth. I felt sorry for whatever mouth that had to kiss that.

"You know what this is Tully? Treason!" He continued to bellow from the ground where two of my knights were holding him down as he flailed and struggled to stand up. As lean and scrawny as he was, Harren had a hidden strength to him. "Forsaking your fucking oath. When I'm done with you, you are going to wish your whore of a mother had-." Ser Patrek stepped forward and gave Harren a gauntleted back hand.

Several of Harren's yellow teeth were sent flying.

"Shut your filthy mouth." Ser Patrek growled. "You shall not speak of the late lady, like that. Especially a rapist like you."

A glob of blood escaped from Harren's mouth as he spit into Ser Patrek's face. "I should have taken my pleasure with that bitch when I had the chance." He grinned a bloody red smile. "I would have made her moan and scream more than the cockless wonder that was Forrest."

Ser Patrek's face grew red with rage and gave him his back hand again. He was about to strike him again, until I bid him to stop. It wouldn't do for our valuable hostage to be killed like that. "Control yourself, Ser Patrek. He's baiting you." I kneeled and began undoing my left greave and sabaton. Not going to lie, fighting in full plate was less different than I thought it would be. Certainly not what I had expected. "Tell me my lord, do you currently understand your situation?"

Harren glared at me. "It's Your Grace, Tully. Do you understand the position that you are in? Dead. That is what you are."

I stopped for a moment to look at Harren with my Tully blue eyes. "I yet still breath and my heart pumps blood through my body. Dead I think I am not."

"Oh you will be." He gave me a cruel smile then. A smile that would have made me shiver if it wasn't for the fact that Edmyn was made of sterner stuff. "A long, slow, painful death. Traitors only deserve such treatment."

I threw away the last of my leg armour before pulling off the sock underneath. It seemed sufficiently damp enough with sweat and a quick sniff more than told me it had a certain smell to it, enough to fuck with someone.

"To be honest, you were giving everyone plenty reason to rise in rebellion." I aired the sock out for a moment and give it a little whip. To my disappointment, it didn't make a whipping sound. "Now do me a favour, and shut the fuck up." I finished by shoving the sock into his mouth, Harren make it all the more easy leaving that big mouth of his gaping open.

My knights found this particularly amusing. "Well, that's one way to shut him up." Ser Morris Rivers snorted as Harren shouted muffled obscenities of some sorts at them.

Ser Hewyn Tumbler leaned forward slightly to whisper into Harren's ear. "How does that taste, eh? Nice and salty, I hope. Only fitting thing for your black heart, you tyrant."

Ser Patrek nodded his head in approval but he didn't say anything of the sort, but tell me of the current state that we happened to be in. "His sons are going to find out about this."

"I know."

It had been a close one. Far too close for his liking, but Ser Patrek had been right that underneath the two charges into their rear and flank, the ironborn had broke for the hills. Minutes of hard fighting later, more and more started turning and running, especially when word started spreading through the reavers that Harren had fallen in the fire.

A lot of bollocks to be true, since he was right in front of me, but that had been enough to sent these lot running. I spared as much knights as I can to hunt and put them down like the dogs that they were.

"We need to march on Harrenhal as soon as possible." I said, coming to a decision.

Ser Patrek of Fairmarket crossed his arms. "With what army? We lost a good few hundred of us. We can't siege Harrenhal with that sort of numbers."

"What's the closest castle to us?"

"Stone Hedge."

"We sent a rider, as fast as possible ahead of us." I motioned towards the still flailing and muffled Harren. "And we parade our prize. I'm sure the Brackens would like to finally be rid of the riverlands of Harren and his ilk. We then sent as many a ravens to all the castles in the riverlands to gather their strength to help us besiege Harrenhal."

"Think they will answer?" Ser Patrek of Fairmarket asked.

"It's Harren the Black." I deadpanned. "The man's not exactly liked."

And that was probably the understatement of the century.

I will admit that when Ser Patrek had told me of Stone Hedge, my mind had wandered over to Stone Henge. The difference after all was a single letter. It would have been somwhat amusing to find a castle surrounded by upright stones, just to drive the point home.

Sadly, this wasn't the case.

Just lying south of the Red Fork, Stone Hedge was a strong castle with a stout keep, and strong looking walls. It was an odd mixture of wood and stone. It didn't exactly live up to it's name of Stone Hedge, but I wasn't one to nit pick the little details.

Surrounding the castle was a fairly large village. I wouldn't call it a town, but I would be half tempted to. The village was also an odd mixture of stone and timber in it's composition, with the better and more solidly built appearing closer to the castle walls.

Unfortunately, this odd mixture didn't serve it well as I saw husks of what had been houses and other buildings.

I glanced back towards Harren as he rode a grey donkey that I had acquisitioned fairly from a nearby farm, hands tied behind his back, sock still stuffed into his mouth, face red with outrage and also, most importantly, naked as the day he was born.

"I see you have been a rather naughty boy." I tsked. "Shame on you. No presents for you, this Christmas."

Harren's face became even redder than it already was. He was beginning to look like a tomato.

Ser Patrek looked at me strangely. "Christmas?"

I waved the question off. "It's a long story."

Dirty, mucky and sad faces stared as me and my men rode by. I had only taken a small group of men with me, leaving the rest of the survivors of the battle to continue running down any ironborn they found. I was positive some of them were going to escape and spread the news about the Tully rebellion, but they were on foot and some on horses.

I think I had the advantage and the fact that I didn't have the equivalent of the entirety of Spain hating my very existence, so I think none of them were going to be making it to Harrenhal or any ironborn stronghold anytime soon.

Lady Anya Bracken was nearing fifty, but she was still very much handsome. She had been waiting for us the moment we made it through the castle gates. I jumped off my horse to the ground beneath. "My lady of Bracken." I greeted with a simple bow.

"My lord of Tully." She looked around and past me. "Do you have him?"

"Him?" I asked before I caught on. I moved aside and pointed a finger towards Naked Harren. "You mean him?"

Her face grew hard and outraged. "Yes. Him." She bulled past me towards Harren, drew her arm back and gave him a powerful slap that reverberated throughout the whole of the courtyard and did I mention that it was hard enough to force him landing on the ground in a dull thud? Lady Anya wasn't done though.

With Harren on the ground, she began to viciously kick him and I think me and the others just stared before we realised that Harren was very valuable and thus, it would be bad, although hilarious, for him to be kicked to death by an outraged woman.

"You vile beast!" Lady Anya hissed, kicking Harren in his mid-section, forcing a couple of winces from the men when she kicked lower. "My husband. My sons."

She was going to kill him so I rushed towards her and put my arms around her waist and began to drag her back, all the while she was flailing. "Leave me be! He has to pay!"

God, the woman was stronger than I had thought. "My lady, calm down! Harren will pay for all his crimes, but we still have need of him!" She continued to struggle against my hold before she began to calm down, her flailing and kicking slowly coming to a stop.

She was breathing hard by the time she stopped and her voice choked. "Him and all his sons." She glared daggers at the beaten and bruised man. "He will feel the pain of losing his own sons. And his line." She finished with a vicious smile. "You can release me my lord, although my actions were unseemly, your hold of me is most inappropriate."

"Uh, okay." I released her as she had asked. I looked towards Ser Patrek who had dismounted and was standing over Harren. "Is he still alive?"

The knight dropped down to a knee and looked over Harren and grunted. "Unconscious, but he will live."

"I received your man." Anya Bracken said as she corrected her hair and smoothed down her skirts. "the ravens have been sent. Whatever strength House Bracken has left shall march with you."

I frowned. "How many men are we talking about?"

"A couple of hundred at best. Mostly green boys and old men." She spit in Harren's direction. "That foul beast had fallen on our forces whilst in they were in the midst of battle against the Blackwoods. Little of them made it home before Harren fell to savage our own lands, holdfasts and castles." She looked at me with a fire in her eyes. "I have been the Lady of Stone Hedge for over thirty years, Lord Edmyn. I know these people. And I know they hunger for vengeance."

"That will do." I said, holding back my disappointment. I would have liked to have more men, but I would take what I could get. "How long will it take to gather the men?"

"I already had sent out the riders when I received your man. They will be here."

"Did you sent one to the Blackwoods?" I asked. I couldn't help but be concerned considering the relationship between the two. "Their strength will also help in this."

She surprised me by waving my concerns of with a single nonchalant wave of the hand. "I married into House Bracken, Lord Edmyn. I do not hold any ill will towards the Blackwoods. I tried to consel my lord husband to stay away from this form of action..." She trailed off before she shook her head. "Of course, if they had done by me wrong, then that would be a different matter."

I nodded. "Thank you my lady. And I hope I won't impose on you by asking for drink and food for my men. We've had a busy couple of hours as of late." I finished as I indicated towards my knights and men-at-arms.

She looked them over as well and gave a single firm nod. "That can be arranged."

We came upon Lord Symon Harroway and his host of two thousand men made up of five hundred horse and fifteen hundred infantry two days away from Harrenhal. When he had seen Harren riding the donkey, naked, bruised and scratched, he had laughed and bellowed. "Harren the Black? Ha! He looks a little pale to be as black as men say he is."

Lord Symon was not the only riverlord me and my growing host of men met during the road to Harrenhal. We had come upon the lords of Houses Blanetree, Bigglestone, Butterwell, Chambers, Lychester among many others. All of them bringing men and a burning resolution to put as many of the ironborn to the sword.

They also brought news as well. They told me that all across the riverlands, lords were rising up against the ironborn. Men, lord, knight and smallfolk, killing any ironborn they can get their hands upon.

He had also told me that other houses had already invested in sieging Harrenhal before I had even got there, trapping Harren's main force in the riverlands and his sons inside the great castle.

A castle that I could see dominating the land scape in the distance. Gods, that thing was gigantic, how the fuck did these people building something that might as well have been the equivalent of a giant skyscraper with the technology they had?

"Unnerving isn't it?" Lord Symon asked me once, as he rode beside me at the front of the van. Apparently, I had to do this for some reason. Got to show my lords the proper respect that they deserve.

What I wanted to know was, when did it suddenly become 'my' lords? I wasn't lording over these morons.

"No. I just can't comprehend what the moron was thinking building this thing." I shook my head. "How exactly, did he plan on running that thing after having beggared his kingdom? I would ask him, but I think he has taken a liking to my sock."

A muffled sound came from behind me and I smirked somewhat. Perhaps I was enjoying the suffering of Harren a little too much.

Lord Symon snorted back a laugh. "Harren is a cruel, cruel man. Mayhaps that cruelness got a hold over his good sense. That monstrosity, impressive to look at, but near impossible to run and garrison properly, even with the rich lands around it."

"Ain't that the truth?"

I could now understand why people in the books thought Harrenhal was an empty title. Oh yeah, it sounded good on paper. A great castle not many of it's like, strong, certainly eye catching despite ruining the view that came along with lands rich in fertility and other assorted goodies.

It was just in reality, Harrenhal would have been a bitch to run. All that wealth that was available to you would have been spend just running the castle alone and at full capacity, with enough guards and serving stuff...well, I supposed they would be making break even at the very least.

I think I would be doing every a favour if this pans out rather well to just dismantle it.

Harrenhal was certainly under siege that was true. Strangest siege I have ever seen to be honest. Apparently, only one side of the castle was underneath anything resembling a siege. The other three sides that made up the castle had a token force to keep an eye out to make sure the ironborn weren't going to try something funny.

In truth, it made a load of sense. Harrenhal was fucking massive. And there was only so many men the rebels had brought with them. Only the houses surrounding Harrenhal had come to invest in a siege on the castle and between them, they only had a couple of thousand men between them.

Walking through the camp towards the command tent, I was given many a nods by knights and levies, some standing up to cheer for me.

Lord Jason Goodbrook rose up from his side, large and jolly, with a laugh playing his lips. "There he is! The man of the hour!" The other lords in the tent all rose from their seats as well, giving me all kind of greetings and nods.

There was also quite a few ladies among them, Lady Anya included.

"You can all sit down my lords." I said as I took my own seat. It was only belatedly that I realised that it was at the head of the table. I wasn't liking all this symbolism and seeming deference to me for some reason. "Why you are standing is something I quite don't understand."

Lord Wyl Blackwood snorted. "Please, as of right now, you are the most powerful lord in the riverlands. How curious of you to take Harren after he had finished his reaving of Blackwood and Bracken lands."

Eyes drifted between me and Lord Wyl, curious as to how this will be resolved. Lord Wyl had joined the march on Harrenhal. I was sure that he only joined the march because he didn't want people saying that the Brackens had joined the march, with a woman leading them, whilst he sat and brooded in Raventree Hall.

"To be fair to Harren, you and Lord Davis, gods rest his soul, had more than likely ravaged your own lands more than Harren has." I pointed outside. "We can go ask him if you want. He's out there. With all the time in the world."

When I had arrived, I had set up a gibbet right in front of our siege lines, in clear view of the castle walls. So there Harren was, naked and more than likely shivering. I didn't particularly care if he caught a cold, he was going to die anyway at the end of things.

"Are we going to make an assault on the castle then, coz?" My cousin through my mother, Ser Lyam Mallister asked. "Although my lord father gave me assurances, I would rather that we finish this quick so I can take the strength I brought here back to Seagard. I'm sure by now word has reached Vickon Greyjoy in the Iron Islands."

"I wouldn't worry about it too much. Vickon won't move to save the Hoares. They aren't all liked there as well." I told him. I think that was how it went in canon. When Harren was besieged, he sent a message for reinforcements, but no reply ever came back. Or perhaps that was maybe because Vickon was one of the few smart Greyjoys who knew that fighting a dragon was simply stupid. "But you raise a good point. Why would you bring men here? I never asked for Seagard to join the march. Your strength is better served where you were."

"A command by father. You know how he is."

"Sadly, I do." Lord Forrest Mallister was not about to lie down and do nothing when his own blood was marching to battle. "I'll have a message sent to Ser Justin to raise some Riverrun men and reinforce Seagard as a just in case."

Wait, why am I taking charge of this thing? I don't want to be in charge!

I looked around the table of prominent riverlords or their representatives. I had seen the banners of pretty much nearly all the major houses of the Riverlands. The Darrys, Goodbrooks, Mallisters, Brackens, Blackwoods, Freys, Harroway, Mootons and both the branches of the Vances.

"My lords and ladies, right now we need to make a decision."

Lord Samwell Mooton of Maidenpool leaned forward onto the table. "What sort of decision?"

"About the future." I told them, making sure my eyes met every single one of them. I pulled out two letters and laid them down on the table. "These here are letters. Letters I will sent with only your approval."

They eyed the letters, some with curiosity in their eyes and other with suspicion. "Letters for whom, exactly?" Lady Justine Smallwood asked, hands wringing.

"This letter goes to either the Kings of Winter, the Rock, the reach, Mountains and Vale or the Storm." I moved my finger from that letter to the other one. "And this one to be sent to all the kings."

Wyl Blackwood groused. "A declaration of the Kingdom of the Trident I take it? With you as king, no doubt."

I balked. "King of the Trident? Fuck that. House Tully has existed for thousands of years, and I want House Tully to continue existing for thousands of more years. King of the Trident is nothing more than a suicide declaration as far as I'm concerned."

Lord Symon raised an eyebrow. "You do not wish to declare yourself king?"

I nodded. "Out of all the regions of Westeros, the riverlands has had more kingly dynasties than any other land. The ancient Fishers, Mudds, Justmans and the Teagues. Those houses have all been extinguished to the annals of history. House Tully will not be joining them." I leaned back and crossed my arms. "And frankly my lord and ladies, a Kingdom of the Trident is bound to fail no matter what."

The thoughtful looking Ser Franklin Frey shook his head. "House Justman ruled for over a three centuries. It was only unfortunate circumstances that saw the downfall of that particular House."

Bennar Vance of the Atranta branch of House Vance nodded his head in agreement. "The riverlands had never had a royal house stronger than the Justmans. Back then, we could fight off against any and all invaders. If not for that seven damned Qhored, they could very well still be ruling now and our lands would not be plagued by the trash that is the ironborn."

I looked at the lord. "...You are aware that we invited the ironborn, right? I mean, we helped them fight off the Storm King."

"The Storm Kings were tyrants." Bennar Vance replied easily enough. He then took a moment. "Although in hindsight, it was most likely not the best option for our ancestors to think the ironborn would just leave."

Lady Anya snorted. "Our ancestors were fools, my lord. From the wall to Dorne, everyone knows what the ironborn do. Why they thought to help such a people is beyond us."

Bennar Vance bowed in deference at the older lady, but there was a twinkle in his eyes. "Hindsight gives us the right to judge them, my lady. A benefit that they did not have."

Lord Wyl Blackwood who had been quietly brooding then spoke. "So you will not be king, then you suggest we offer ourselves to the other kingdoms then?" He asked. He motioned towards the letters. "I can only assume that is the point of these things."

"Yes." I nodded. "That is the point. We can swear fealty to the north, the Vale, the Rock, the Reach or the Storm."

"Impossible!" Lord Jason growled, suddenly changing from a jolly man to a rather angry looking man. "We offer ourselves to any of them, we risk bringing war to the riverlands! The north will use us to feed their people and who is to say that they will come to our aid when the greenhands, the lions, the falcons and the stags come knocking on our doors? And it is the same for all the other kingdoms as well."

"It doesn't have to be forever." I told him. It just had to be until Aegon decided to get off his right royal arse and start conquering shit. Actually, when was he going to conquer this place? Had Volantis tried it's hand at conquering the other Daughters yet?

"It doesn't have to be now. It doesn't have to be ever." Lord Jason looked around the tent, imploring each and every one of the assembled riverlords with his eyes before speaking. "How long must we suffer the trepidations of others? Is it not enough that our lands and people suffer from the constant fighting of the other kingdoms?"

That was a good question, but he seemed to be forgetting that the riverlords were there own worst enemy as well. They had a tendency to fight amongst themselves.

"I say it's enough!" Lord Jason bellowed to the surprise of many. He then pointed at me. I didn't like the pointing. "We have a young man here. Brave. Bold. And by the looks of it, with a certain low cunning to him. I say we declare for all of Westeros to hear, him King of the Trident!"

The lords murmured and cheered. "King of the Trident!" Some of them shouted. "Tully! Tully!" Others shouted.

"Brilliant." Wyl Blackwood mumbled to himself, yet loud enough to be heard amongst the shouting. "We now have a child leading us. How all of Westeros shall quake the Kingdom of the Trident's rise once more."

Lady Anya rolled her eyes. "Oh must you be so sour? Don't be a fool, Wyl. How many times have the greenhands raided your lands? Our lands? Perhaps it's time for House Bracken and Blackwood to finally stand together with others to safeguard our own."

"Bracken and Blackwood?" Wyl repeated, eyes narrowed. "It should be Blackwood and Bracken. No Bracken will ever come to be first of any Blackwood."

"Seven save us." Lady Anya huffed.

Jason Goodbrook regaled me, seemingly pleased with himself. "There. You have the consent of the lords you gathered. We declare you king."

I did not want this. This was stupid. I didn't want to be king...or did I?

"Me? King?" I said slowly. The thought had come to me that things seemed to be heading in this direction. I was still very much against being King of the Trident because I didn't want the Tullys to be House number five to be faced with destruction after taking the title. Common sense was telling me to say no and pass the baton on to someone else, but..."If you name me king, then there will be changes."

"Every king brings his own changes." Myles Darry told me. "Some good, some bad. Time will only tell which one yours shall be."

"A standing army like those of the Free Cities."

The tent exploded in raised voices. The lords shouted and argued so much that it was rather difficult to tell what their shouting and arguments were on about.

Myles Darry was the one who brought order back to the tent. "As you can see, Lord Tully, the notion of a standing army is not well received. Would you be so kind to give us your reasoning? Perhaps you can sway us."

I began to explain my point. "For starters, we are the most central region of Westeros. This piece of Westeros has seen more battles and wars than any other region. If we are to protect ourselves from invaders, and believe me, we will have invaders, we must have a professional, highly trained, competent army to meet our invaders in the field and turn them back."

"And how we will pay for this army? Or make sure that you don't use it unjustly against your vassals?" Myles Darry continued to prod.

"Well for starters, I would ask that you all give payments of scutage rather than promise men when it comes to the military. That is how I will pay for the men for the defence of the kingdom and your lands. And to stop me from being a tyrant, you can still keep your right to raise your banners if I or any of my descendants overstep themselves or the power goes to their heads. Hopefully, it won't come to that." I rose from my seat. "That is my offer, my lords. If you wish to accept me as king, you must give me leave to create such a force. I shall leave you to discuss it upon yourselves. If no agreement is reached," I pushed the letters forward. "These still stand."

After that, I left them to squabble among themselves. In the shadows that Harrenhal cast.

Last edited: Dec 2, 2016

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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TryingToBeKuw

Nov 29, 2016

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Threadmarks I'm really not claustrophobic. I just hate tunnels. New

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TryingToBeKuw

TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Dec 2, 2016

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#136

Sieges were dreadfully dull affairs. We surrounded the castle, throw up some tents, build some trenches, siege weapons and then we wait. Wait for them to run out of food or we get bored.

Of course, considering the precarious position of the Riverlands, we really couldn't play the waiting game. We knew that we had suddenly struck at the Hoares, so they more than likely didn't have enough stores inside Harrenhal to last them for more than a year, give or take a couple of moons.

But this was the Riverlands. The region of Westeros that was surrounded by potential enemies to the north, east, south and west. The longer we sat around this castle singing Kum-Ba-Ya meant the more time that the other kings of Westeros would take a moment to give us a little looksie and see if they can grab some land for themselves.

"We need to take that castle." Lord Wyl Blackwood said during the war council. "Right now. An assault. Anything."

"How exactly, Wyl?" Lord Jason asked. He thumbed in the direction of Harrenhal that stood ominously over us. "Look at the size of that stupid thing. It's walls are too thick to be smashed down by siege engines. Too big for any siege tower. Even the half finished walls are still too big for us to take any sort of advantage of."

Lord Symon Harroway was in agreement with Lord Jason. "The only way I can see to taking this castle is starving them out. Beyond that?" He shook his head to finish his sentence.

"Why not dig?" Ser Franklin Frey suggested. "Perhaps that would cause the walls to collapse or allow us entry into the castle itself."

"The mines will have to be out of sight from the defenders." Ser Patrek of Fairmarket muttered as he rubbed at his bearded chin. "Those bloody walls of theirs gives them a ridiculous height advantage and any fool with a Myrish-eye or decent enough vision would be able to notice what we are up to."

The other lords muttered in agreement with the plan. "Best we build more than one tunnel, preferably on all sides of the castle." Ser Lyam Mallister told them. "One tunnel has the chance of being counter-mined. And if it works, the Hoares will be able to create a chokepoint to easily kill our men. In fact, why not two mines per side?"

"How long will it take though? I'm sure by now that word clearly must be spreading of what's happening right now." Wyl Blackwood said.

I hadn't really spoken or shared my thoughts on the matter in the meeting simply because I only had textbook knowledge on siege warfare and that was from Edmyn's memories. From my memories, I'm pretty sure that I read somewhere that assaults on castles during sieges were not actually a thing, perhaps as a last resort, but not an actual thing.

But considering I now lived in a quasi-Medieval fantasy world, apparently, assaulting castles was more of a thing than I thought it would be.

The other lords nodded and quickly went to organise men to start the mining. I was somewhat surprised that no-one had actually even offered the chance to try and parlay with the Hoares that were sitting inside that pretty little castle of theirs. Then again, I don't think we would have expected much in response apart from the usual, apparently, official House Hoare rhetoric of that they are going to kill us or we are going to die, our lands ravaged and women raped.

These lot were excellent people persons by the looks of it. I doubt even the best Public Relations company or department in the world would have been able to spruce up the Hoares image.

And like that, that was how I found myself several feet underground, walking through a tunnel. I wasn't claustrophobic. I had been enough elevators to know that enclosed places don't really bother me.

It was just that, when I'm on a plane, I don't appreciate the fact that I'm thousands of feet of the ground and thus, liable to find myself dead because of some bullshit or another. The same concept applied to having tonnes of dirt and earth above me.

Being buried alive was not something I looked forward to.

Lyam Mallister was trying his best to cheer me up though. Good on him. I liked Lyam. He was a good egg. "Just a little longer," he told me as we skulked through the tunnel, filled with several dozen men in front of us and hundreds more behind us. "And then we'll be up in the faces of these bastards."

It was a nice effort, trying to cheer me up by giving me lovely thoughts of giving it to the ironborn with a nice, sharp piece of metal, but I really didn't like the knowledge of all that earth above me. I tried to keep my mind out of that quagmire and think happy thoughts.

Gutting the ironborn.

"It would have been nicer if they would have just surrendered." I said with a sigh. We had tried to parlay, but Harwyn Hoare was having none of it.

"But not as much fun." Lyam Mallister replied, his sword hand gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly I suspected that the skin was white underneath. "The stain on my family's honour will finally be wiped out after so long. And I'm now beginning to sound like my lord father."

Oh yeah, the Mallister's seat was called Seagard. The first line of defence from the ironborn into the Riverlands. I supposed that the fact that Hoares were able to bypass Seagard and conquer the Riverlands would have rankled a couple of their feathers.

"Well, you sort of look like him. Why not stop there?"

The heir to Seagard laughed then. It was nice to keep the spirits up and I was sure that we were getting pretty damn close to the end of the tunnel. Just a couple more minutes and we would be right in it.

"You think they know that we are coming?" I asked.

"Perhaps. It would be difficult to know. There are signs of when a tunnel is being mined, but I think Harrenhal's sheer size will mitigate those very factors."

My cousin sounded rather confident with his words, so all I did was just nod.

Several moments later, we reached the end of the tunnel. I could hear the pickaxes pick away at the earth at an incline, the miners busy at work to remove the last barrier between us and the inside of Harrenhal. I would have to admit, I was getting a tad bit impatient and wanted the miners to hurry up with the mining.

The quicker I got out of this tunnel the better I would feel. Even if I was charging straight into a life or death situation.

The only light that we had was provided by torches, that was until, suddenly, day light flooded the cave as the miners broke through into the surface. I had to squint my eyes slightly as my eyes adjusted to the sudden assault by light before Lyam Mallister pointed to the source of the light with his sword. "Charge!"

He encouraged the men in front of us by pushing them lightly on the back to force them forward. The tunnel was somewhat cramped and there wasn't enough room to manoeuvre as one would have wanted, so everyone was forced to push on forward. The miners of course, were the first ones to step inside the walls of Harrenhal, holding their piackaxes as ready made weapons.

Scrambling up the incline into the light from the little illuminated darkness below, I rushed on into the unknown, preparing myself to face whatever the ironborn had to throw at me. Therefore, you might understand my surprise when after I took a moment to notice that no-one was attacking us, I stopped to take a look out.

Out of the tunnel that we had used to gain access into the insides of Harrenhal, more and more knights and river levies were charging out, battle cries escaping their throats, fanning out as they did so. Yet there was no-one to meet us.

Lyam Mallister also noticed this as well, having come to stop a little beside me. "Where are they?"

I shrugged my shoulders as the men continued to fan out the yard that we had found ourselves in. Many of them despite not finding someone to fight, continued to run right through the yard in either direction to some other destination in search of plunder or foes to fight.

"Harrenhal is stupidly large castle," I began. "Perhaps they are deeper into the castle?" That was the only thing that I could think as to why we hadn't met someone in combat yet. How many men did the ironborn have here anyway?

My cousin was more than willing to accept my reasoning. With a group of knights that Ser Patrek had charged with protecting me and Lyam's own, we began to make our way deeper into the castle, the deeper we went, bringing more men with us.

It was beginning to be rather eery as to how we had yet to come across anyone. Not one ironborn or even the poor souls that they had forced into slaved labour to build this monstrosity. Somewhere along the way, we ran into the group of men that Ser Patrek had been leading, with the knight himself at the lead of it.

He had a dark look on his face. "Bastards." He cursed underneath his breath. He shook his head. "It's best that I show you."

Me and Lyam looked at each other before we followed after the aged knight. He led us into one of the courtyards outside a tower, a tower bigger than any other castle tower than I had ever seen before. It seemed to stretch out into the sky, as if to reach it and grab it within it's stony palm.

That would have been impressive.

If it wasn't for the bodies that littered the all around the tower.

"Gods..." I gasped as my stomach churned.

The workers. Slaves. Thralls. Whatever you wanted to call them. We had found them. Parts of them. The Hoares had watered the yard with the blood and limbs of their poor victims.

The stench of death was strong. And the smell.

Lyam was green from the sight. Or was it perhaps the smell? "There was no need for this. Why would they do this?"

I had never seen Ser Patrek's face so dark in my life. Actually, I had never seen an expression so dark in both of my lives. "I suspect they wanted to cut down on the mouths to feed. Or they tried to rebel. Or for nothing more than simple cruelty."

I shook my head. "There were thousands building this castle. Men, women, children. They killed them all?"

Lyam's face had turned from green to red with rage. "They will pay for this. They are monsters. Not men. They deserve to be put down like the dogs they are."

"Where are they anyway?" I asked. "We haven't come across a single ironbron at all. Are they holed up somewhere?"

"If so, we'll find them. There's only so many places to hide in this blasted castle." Ser Patrek told us.

We never did find them in the castle.

We found them outside. Apparently, our tunnel digging had been noticed and Harwyn Hoare, having noticed that when we broke through, him and his men were pretty much fucked, realised that he was in a do-or-die situation. Despite what one could say about the ironborn and their ways, their was one constant with them. They had big-ass balls made out of brass.

Mounting all of his men on as many horses as he held inside the castle, Harwyn led a charge to escape the siege. Somehow the son of a bitch had been able to break through our lines, although the same couldn't be said for many of his men and his brothers.

What is dead can never die, only rise harder and stronger.

Man, fuck the ironborn.

"We have much of our horse giving chase to Harwyn and the rest of the ironborn." Ser Patrek told the gathering of lords. Outside, the sounds of men drinking and partying the night away could be heard.

The levies, men-at-arms and knights acted as if they had won a great battle. It hadn't been in truth. Sure, we had come across some ironborn who had not been able to escape and soon promptly butchered by rivermen, that had all been the fighting.

There was no glory in that, especially in the deaths of the poor souls that Harwyn had murdered. I still didn't understand why he would do such a thing. To remove the number of mouths to feed? Then why not just starve them? It simply would have been easier than going through the effort of killing them with sword.

An act of spite? I didn't know much about Harwyn, but if he was truly his father's son, then I could see that happening. I suppose in that case, the old saying of the apple not falling far from the tre would very much be true.

Ser Patrek continued. "He'll try for a coastal town or village to get himself and his men boats to sail back to the Iron Islands. We won't let him." He finished, his arms crossed.

I shook my head. "One shouldn't make promises or declarations that they can't keep, Ser Patrek. It lessens the value of the next promise to come out."

"Ah, yes. Apologies, Lord Edmyn."

I smiled at the older knight. "It's fine. I'm not the only one who wants the man captured. He has to pay for his crimes."

"What of Harren then?" Lady Anya Bracken asked, seated as gracefully as possible. "His purpose is all but done."

"He'll face justice." Lord Symon Harroway bit out. "He will finally answer for all the crimes that he has committed. All the suffering that he has caused."

An eyebrow quirked up Lord Wyl Blackwood's eyebrow. "You would become a Kingslayer? How brave."

Lord Symon turned on the aged Lord of Raventree Hall. "Harren more than deserves it."

Never thought I would hear someone mention the title of 'Kingslayer' or anyone actually make some sort of defence in Harren's case. No matter how weak that defence was since it seemed to be based on the fact that he was nothing more than King of the Isles and Rivers.

I smirked. I suppose now it was just King of the Isles. The Rivers were certainly not a part of his domain anymore.

I felt the weight of more than one pair of eyes on me and I looked up and noticed that people were staring at me. My smirk quickly dropped and I cleared my throat. "Harren's fate was more than decided the day he became a prisoner of mine. He will die. But he will face a king's death. Say what you will about the man, but he is a king nonetheless. And he should be shown the proper respect for someone of his station."

"You say that after having paraded the man naked for all to see." Ser Franklin Frey pointed out with an amused look on his face. "Some would say that isn't the proper respect a man of his station should be afforded."

"In my defence, he earned that. I don't take kindly to people insulting my parents." A weak excuse, but a good enough for now.

I don't think it would do if people learned I simply treated Harren the way that I did was because the man is a motherfucking dick. This cannot be stressed.

That, and I'm a bit of a bastard sometimes. It depends on the day.

I spread my hands around the room, a wide smile spreading across my face. "My lords, my ladies," I began, gathering their attention. "Bask in this very moment. Revel in the sounds of the brave men outside celebrating in this victory. For this day, today, the Riverlands are free." They smiled at that. Nodding at each other and even the sour Wyl Blackwood had a smile playing on the edge of his lips. Then I remembered something that I had been forgetting about over the past few weeks. "Wait, are we free? Or should we be preparing to travel to the Rock, Highgarden, Eyrie, Storm's End or Winterfell to give the knee to our new king."

If I had thought that my question would have ruined the mood, I was pleasantly surprised that it did not ruin the mood. It might not have ruined the mood, but I wasn't happy at all at what happened next.

Lord Jason's chair made a sound as it scrapped back when he abruptly stood up. "Oh, we made a decision alright."

My stomach dropped a little as I eyed the smile that was on his face. "You can't be serious." I told him. I told them. "You are actually going ahead with naming me king of the Trident? I mean, I'm honoured and all, but I had thought that my demand for a royal army would have been enough for that proposal to be a deal breaker."

Perhaps I hadn't been unreasonable enough? I had nothing against being king. I had thought about it. Long and hard when the offer had at first been offered to me. At the end of it all, I realised I was the most reasonable of all the lords to be made king.

With Harren having fucked with the Brackens and Blackwoods, the Tullys were now the most dominant power in the region. Any other king that wasn't a Tully would be wary of me or my House. In other words, I would be the Hightowers of the Riverlands. The Reynes. The Boltons. The Yronwoods, even if I held no ambitions of any sort, the new king of the Trident will always be a little wary of me.

Myles Darry spoke up next. "We had a little talk about that. We will acquiesce to the creation of a Royal Army and the payments to maintain it's upkeep on the condition that nobility shall hold the ranks of officers."

Well...that was reasonable enough I guess. That was pretty much standard for any army during the Medieval stages and afterwards when national armies began to become more of a thing. Of course, if someone was going to try to buy a rank, at the very least, he had to have served a suitable number of years and be reviewed to be made sure that he was competent enough to hold that position.

"I can agree with that with a stipulation that any commoner that makes a note of himself or is recommended for an officer rank be allowed to do so." A little meritocracy isn't a bad thing. Little things like this also did wonder when it came to making people be loyal.

The riverlords and ladies talked quietly among themselves after that. Lord Jason then stepped forward. "Agreeable." He said, speaking for the others. "Shall you accept the crown then?"

"It's not like you bastards are really giving me much of a choice then, are you?"

And now, I was King of the Trident. Truthfully, when Aegon comes and finds a proper army to help him conquer Westeros at the ready, the son of a bitch better make sure he rewards me with all the gold in Casterly Rock.

Last edited: Dec 2, 2016

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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TryingToBeKuw

Dec 2, 2016

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TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Dec 4, 2016

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#242

I haven't even been crowned yet. I don't even think I even had anything resembling a crown, yet all the same, I had begun to found myself falling balls deep into the quagmire that was matters of state. First on the list was the declaration that I, Edmyn Tully was now the newest in a long line of people, to take the title King of the Trident.

This was all, hopefully, going to work out. I was optimistic of the future. I could see the rays of sunshine in the distance with a hint of flying lizard, murder beast and that was fine with me.

They distracted me from the dark grey clouds above me.

"At the moment, I think we've been able to gather up a little over a thousand men that are interested." Ser Patrek informed me. "They've got the taste of war and it hasn't be sated just yet."

"A thousand?" I repeated, brows furrowing. "Well, that's not bad a number to start with. We can build on that."

Over the past few days, I've had Ser Patrek and a couple of my other household knights go around recruiting people for the Army of the Trident...the River Guard? Royal Army? Well, as you can see, I haven't exactly come up with a name for this force of men-at-arms.

I still really wasn't sure what I was going to do with them. I mean, of course their main raison d'etre would be the defence of the Riverlands, that was their entire purpose along with kicking the arses of whoever tried to take control of the place.

What I wasn't sure off, was what exactly was going to be there thing? Was it going to be pikes? All I knew about pikes was the fact that the Swiss Pikes made the rest of Europe their bitch until they got knocked off their porch because they had bigger pointy sticks than everybody else.

...I think I will leave that train of thought until I have something more definite in mind.

"How much will that cost us?" I asked.

"It's certainly not going to be cheap." Ser Patrek helpfully answered by not giving me a number that I could work with. "And that's not including the cost of armouring the men as well. Must they be armoured in steel? Boiled leather, chain is much cheaper."

"I would like for them to be armoured in something more than the rags they turned up in." I think something like that did something for the morale as well. "And I think I have thought of a means to increase our steel production so that it will more than likely drive the costs down."

Look, I had been to enough 'water mills of some sort turned museum' school trips to know that water mills were useful for many things. One of those uses being the production of steel among other things. The river wheels would harness the power of rivers to drive hammers, pump bellows and I think to cut wood as well? All those memories were from so long ago that it was a bit iffy.

And anyway, using the power of water to help with production wasn't such a foreign idea in Westeros. From Edmyn's youth, he had accompanied our (my?...this was very confusing) lord father when he inspected the gristmills that grinded grain into flour. It just seems as if nobody had thought to take that process and apply it to other fields.

I didn't have any sort of technical knowledge as to how any of that worked, but I'm sure the guys who maintained the water wheel in the Wheel Tower could probably come up with something to make that idea feasible.

And anyway, the Riverlands had rivers. Might as well make some use of them.

Ser Patrek grunted. "A lot of them are nothing more than young boys. Green. It will take time and effort to make them any kind of respectable soldier."

"With you leading the reigns, ser, I think they will be more than able to meet your standards."

I had two things that were mostly taking much of the space in my head. Defence and the economy. And both of them were so equally important I didn't know which one to tackle first.

I needed an economy to give me the gold I would need to pay for my army. If there was one thing that any sort of state should be worried about, was having people armed with things that would kill you, not being paid. And I would love to have more than enough gold to pay for my army and then have some more to throw in for some bonuses.

I believe I could pay for an army through my own purse for upwards to a year and a half, but after that? I was hopeful by then that gold would be trickling into my treasury to pay for it. I wonder, would it be the realm's treasury instead of mine?

Then came the problem of defence. The Riverlands were surrounded by potential enemies to the north, east, south and west. With no natural defences of any kind.

Well...give it time and I'm sure I could think of something.

An army and the lack of defences of the Riverlands wasn't even half of my problems. I had to be wary that the ironborn might very well launch a counter attack and somewhat strangely and utterly absurd to me was the fact that Seagard had little to nothing in terms of a naval presence.

I found that strangely weird and not making much sense due to the traditional role that Seagard and the Mallisters have played when it comes to the geopolitics of the Riverlands.

So I needed an army and a fleet.

Thankfully, I wasn't one for screaming, or I would very much be screaming right about now.

Apparently, my kingdom just didn't include the traditional Riverlands that I knew off from canon, but it also extended southward towards the mouth of the Blackwater. In other words, the lords of Antlers, Rosby, Duskendale, Stokeworth among others could now call me their king.

Well, that was if they decided to bend the knee to me instead of Argilac the Arrogant.

I really cared nothing for that part of my kingdom. It just meant more territory to try and come up with a plausible defence for, but Duskendale was the biggest port in that area and could bring in a healthy amount in taxes. Antlers was a fairly modest enough town, and once again, a healthy amount of taxes could come from that.

In other words, I cared nothing for the most southern tip of my realm, but I really couldn't afford to lose economic centres like the Antlers and Duskendale to the Kingdom of the Storm. It wouldn't really also give me much of a good rep among my vassals if I just gave up land just like that.

Ravens had been dispatched to the lords of the northern part of what would be the crownlands to come to Harrenhal and bend the knee to me, but at times like this, it didn't hurt to have a little bit of encouragement from me to those particular lords to bend the knee to me.

Which was why I was having this little impromptu meeting with what could be termed as some of my more powerful bannermen. They also happened to be located rather conveniently right next to the southern most part of my new kingdom.

"Lord Goodbrook, Lord Mooton." I greeted the pair of lords.

Lord Jason gave me a wide grin. "Your grace." Whilst Lord Samwell inclined his head in a bow. Lord Jason continued talking. "We still need to find a crown for your head. Not much of a king without a crown."

"Crowns can be crafted easily enough." The Targaryens had more than enough crowns. "What's more important now is matters that ascertain to our fledgling realm and it's continued survival."

The mood changed a little bit as the two lords took on a little bit more of a serious countenance. That was good. They clearly wanted for this kingdom to succeed just as much as I would like it to succeed as well.

I mean, if it failed, that meant that my head was going to be removed from it's perch on my lovely, pale, soft neck. And I didn't want that.

"Tell me, what do you know of our southern most lords? The Darklyns, Buckwells and their likes."

It was Lord Samwell that answered first. "Lord Tytos Buckwell is a good enough sort. I've met him a few times. He'll bend the knee. Lord Gared though..." He trailed off, shaking his head.

Lord Gared? Who was that? I went through my head for a face to the name or something. Then I got something. "Lord Darklyn?"

Lord Jason nodded as he confirmed my guess for me. "He's always complained that things were good during the time of the Storm Kings despite the fact that he wasn't even born at the time. Nothing more than ramblings he picked up from his lord father I say. Harren and the Hoares were heavy in their taxes, especially on Duskendale. Of course they weren't the only ones to be taxed heavily, but they certainly felt it more than most."

Duskendale was the principle port of Blackwater Bay and I wouldn't be surprised if there was a lot of wealth passing through that particular town. So I wasn't at all surprised to be told that they felt the brunt of the taxes that Harren levied on them. Harrenhal had been costly. He would have needed a lot of gold to purchase the building materials.

"Would you say that he would bend the knee to me or Argillac?" I asked carefully.

"Hard to say." Lord Mooton answered slowly. "Darklyn lands have suffered from storm lord raids. And if Argillac was to marshal his strength and make overtures of taking Duskendale by force, then Gared would probably bend the knee to him."

"Just like that?"

Lord Jason shrugged. "Duskendale is a strong town with stout walls and the Darklyns can call upon two hundred knights and thousands more in terms of foot. Good, but against the might of Storm's End?" He shook his head. "Gared would make a show of it, no doubt. But eventually, if help doesn't arrive or if he isn't given any reason to think help shall arrive, he'll bend the knee to Argillac. The man's not a fool."

"So the man needs to be convinced that I'll be able to protect him from the predations of the storm lords?"

"More or less." Lord Samwell answered. "Depends on the type of convincing at hand as well."

"In that case, I was hoping you would go and convince the lord then, Lord Goodbrook." I told them. "Along with however many tools you need to convince him to bend the knee."

Lord Goodbrook gave me a toothy smile as he nodded. "Aye, your grace. I'll convince old Gared to bend the knee."

I then turned to Lord Samwell. "And you, my lord, I hope you can travel to Braavos as an envoy of our fledgling kingdom to the Iron Bank." Maidenpool was the busiest port in the Riverlands. I hoped the amount of traffic that went through meant that Lord Samwell was at the very least, adequate, in terms of negotiations. "We'll have need for their financial support to turn back from the ruin that Harren had forced upon us."

Dealing with the Iron Bank was going to be a daunting process, but once again, Harren had near beggared the Riverlands. I needed gold to, at the very least, work on projects that could very well lead us into actual financial security.

And the Iron Bank would more than give me enough incentive to actually make sure that I worked towards that goal. No-one fucked with the Iron Bank and I didn't intent to be replaced by whatever prince they would raise up.

It would more than likely end in my head being removed from my soft, pale neck. I liked where my head was already.

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Dec 9, 2016

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#308

Anya Bracken had been pleasantly surprised with the speed that the young Lord Tully had quickly taken to get the affairs of his realm in order. Lord Goodbrook sent south to negotiate with Lord Darklyn with a sizeable host of men to make the run of the negotiations smoother. He might have tried to be quiet with the dispatch, but anybody would have been a fool to suddenly not account the thousands of men missing from the camp.

And prior to their departure, their intents might not at all have been as subtle as they wished.

Lord Goodbrook wasn't the only other noticeable absence. Of course, other lords had slowly been taking their levies and knights back to their lands, but from those who stayed, Lord Mooton had been noticeable in his absence, despite that the host he had come with from Maidenpool was still very much camped outside the walls of Harrenhal.

Unlike Lord Goodbrook though, among the assembled high born, his location was unknown to all but save the young king.

A king that she was currently to see now.

She found the young king atop a small hill that looked in the direction of Harrenhal. He wasn't alone. Apart from the two House Tully knights that served as his sworn shields, there was also Ser Franklin Frey was also with him and the two seemed to be in some sort of discussion.

The Lady Anya hanged back to allow the two to talk amongst themselves. She would admit that she would love to overhear what they were discussing, but the wind was against her and their voices were carried away.

Eventually, Ser Franklin noticed her. "My lady." He called out in greeting.

The Freys were a young House. Some would say nothing more than up-jumped merchants. Others would say they were up-starts because of their wealth. Whatever her own thoughts were on the Freys, she thought it wise to not make an enemy out of a House as wealthy as the Freys.

She curtsied in greeting to the Frey lordling and her new king. "Your grace. Ser Franklin."

Ser Franklin turned to the king. "I think we will continue our discussion at a later date, your grace."

The king nodded. "Very well."

Ser Franklin left them not long after, sharing a nod of acknowledgement with the knight as he passed her on his way.

Thoughts of curiosity as to the subject were pushed out of her mind, instead, she focused on what mattered. Securing her family and that of the newfound kingdom that she now bore allegiance to.

"Lady Anya," the king began, casting a smile. "How can I be of service?"

"It's more of how I can be of service to you, your grace."

"You have been more than of service to me, my lady. Do not be worried, you shall receive in rewards to the amount of support you gave me."

A wry smile threatened to play on her lips. "I doubt a few hundred men, green boys and old men, can at all be worth much in the greater scheme of things."

The king agreed with her then. "Perhaps, but at the end of the day, the support of House Bracken is not just limited to the amount of men that you gave to me, my lady. House Bracken standing side by side by House Tully has done more than you would think."

That she could agree with. Before the foolishness with the Blackwoods, her own House along with the Tullys and Blackwoods had been amongst the most powerful Houses in the Riverlands. Her support for his kingship, even as weakened as House Bracken was now, meant a lot to the right people.

He ran a hand through his hair then. "Although truth be told, my head is heavy with the crown that I'm not even wearing yet. I think I must have aged several years already since the proclamation."

"You will grow into it." She said, trying to be comfortable with him. A young man such as him needed good advisers and counsel. "You won't be taken the burden of kingship alone. There are many riverlords that would give you good counsel if you so wish."

King Edmyn made a sound then, before pointing in the physical manifestation of Harren's hubris and asked. "What would you suggest I do with that?"

Anya looked away from the young king towards the castle. She thought for a moment. "Harrenhal is a strong castle. Perhaps the strongest castle in all of Westeros. The walls are taller than any siege tower or ladder can reach. They happen to be as strong as well. No trebuchet would be able to batter those walls down, well, not in any time before help arrives. The towers themselves are miniature fortresses by themselves."

The young king nodded with each point she made. "So I take it?" He asked.

"That's one option." She said after a moment of thinking. "Another is to simply destroy Harrenhal and use it for whatever purposes that you can think off. I'm sure the stone and timber used to build it is worth a few castles."

King Edmyn chuckled to himself then. "I'm of the mind of the latter, especially considering the bloodbath we came upon." He finished, his chuckling all but stopped and a sneer came across his face.

The Bloody Court.

That was the name they had given to the court yard around one of Harrenhal's towers filled with the blood and limbs of the dead. King Edmyn had led a procession to lay the poor folk in peace, summoning several septons to lead the service.

What was strange was him having the septons bless the court and field that the thralls had been butchered in. Whatever reasons he did such a thing for, he kept the reasons to himself.

Edmyn turned to look towards Harrenhal once more. "Ser Franklin is of the mind that I take Harrenhal. He's given me valid reasons to take it and I think he has the right of it."

That piqued her interest. So him and the Frey knight and heir had been in discussion about the castle? Now that she thought about it, Edmyn had been meeting many of the nobles that were still in attendance. Was he looking to their counsel on this subject?

"Such as?" She needled.

"It's an excellent place to project power to the southern reaches of my new kingdom. I will at least give Harren that, he certainy knew where to build his castle to rule this part of his kingdom. Far better place to rule the kingdom from than Riverrun which is too far west and north." He ran a hand through his hair. "Then again, I find it a little bit too big. I'll need hundreds, perhaps thousands to fortify it sufficiently enough and then let's not forget the staffing..." He shook his head then. "Never mind, I've come to a decision on what to do with it. But my lady, I doubt you came all this way to find me to listen to a young boy ramble on about castles."

She gave him a smile. "There are worse things to do to waste the time."

"True enough."

"Your grace, I have come to ask of you for a favour for House Bracken. A favour that would very much impact it's continued survival."

The young king's face then took on a note of all seriousness. "What would you ask of me, my lady? For House Bracken's support, I would be willing to grant you any boon you ask for."

"As you know, Harren decimated the ranks of House Bracken," Her hands tightened around her skirts then, she worried that she might tear through them and into the palms of her hands. "I have daughters and grand-daughters who are set to inherit, but I am worried that someone might try to-."

King Edmyn held up a hand then to stop her. "Have no fear, my lady. I'll protect the claims of your heir. I won't harm come to befall them or House Bracken lands."

She blinked. Well, this was easier than she had thought. She had expected to give some concessions. Perhaps she can get more than a simple vow of protection? Words were wind after all.

"I have a grand-daughter, the heir to Stone Hedge..." She trailed off for him to understand her implications.

It seemed he understood, but judging from the smile on his face, it wouldn't result in the outcome that she wanted.

When he spoke, he confirmed her thoughts. "And I'm sure she is lovely as you are, my lady." Flattery seemed to come easily to the young king.

"But not enough for a king, no?" She asked, a wry smile on her face.

"Oh no! Nothing like that, my lady." The king replied, his pale skin in contrast to the red that was coming to his cheeks. "It's just well, someone mentioned that who I am to marry is of great importance. I'd rather be given time to think on the subject deeply so I make the right kind of choice. But if you need someone in mind to marry your grand-daughter, Ser Lyam is available. And he isn't half bad." He finished with a chuckle.

The heir to Seagard? That wouldn't make a bad match. In fact, it would be a rather fortuitous match for House Bracken to make. Especially considering the importance that House Mallister would soon come to be in the new kingdom as the good-family to the king.

If she was thinking this, then no doubt some of the more able lords and ladies would be thinking this as well. She would need to act quick.

But first, she was rather curious to see who could she potentially be calling 'queen' in the future.

"If I can be so bold to ask, your grace, any maidens in mind?"

He scratched at the side of his head in thought. "Well, I doubt one of them is a maiden. The other one probably is."

"You already have two in mind?" That surprised her. How long had he been thinking about this? And who could the ladies be?

How many riverlords had suitable enough daughters or sisters that would be suitable for a king? The Mootons? Lord Samwell had several daughters and sisters. The Harroways, Buckwells, Freys...the list could go on and on and on.

As long as it wasn't a Blackwood, then she would be fine with that. A Blackwood queen and Wyl would never let her hear the end of it.

"Both of them more or less secure our borders and give us allies."

That left her confused. What match would secure their borders?

Oh.

Was Edmyn looking beyond the borders of his kingdom? In truth, that was...bold of him. And risky as well. He had to make sure that he didn't come under the influence of his good-family.

The riverlords were quarrelsome enough by themselves. They didn't need to go through all of this and choose a puppet king to rule over them. It would not end well to say the least.

After that, they talked some more about potential matches for her daughters. She wasn't surprised that the matches that Edmyn offered were those to families that were direct vassals to House Tully of Riverrun.

Riverrun.

That was a question he had yet to answer for. It was obvious that he was going to move his seat. His intent was clear enough, but what was to happen to the ancient Tully castle? It was rich in lands and a strong castle.

Well, if she lived long enough, perhaps a great-granddaughter of hers might become the Lady of Riverrun when Edmyn has sons of his own to pass that castle of to. All the while, it wouldn't hurt to make plans and contingencies.

Last edited: Dec 9, 2016

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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Feb 23, 2017

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#511

At some point in time, Lyam Mallister and Franklin Frey somehow ended up being the beginnings of what I was suspecting to be my inner circle. Lyam Mallister was family and from my memories of him, of Edmyn before I happened, fostering at Seagard with him and his father, I had come to the conclusion that I could trust him. Not as much as Ser Patrek, but close enough.

It also didn't hurt that he was probably one of the nicest people in Westeros. Nice people and Westeros. I am rather surprised that such a thing was possible unless you were Ned Stark.

Ser Franklin was a Frey.

That by itself should be sending all sorts of alarm bells ringing, but there were several reasons why I think I could trust him. Walder Frey was not yet a thing. And he seemed to be an alright bloke. Nothing too exceptional and seemed to take his lordly duties rather seriously.

So here we were, the three of us looking over a map of Westeros, trying to figure out how to make sure that when the other kingdoms try to fuck us up the arse, at the very least, we would be wearing as much lube as possible.

Speaking of which, I had something of an idea. I tapped my index finger on Moat Cailin. "Correct me if I'm wrong, but this particular causeway is the only way for an army to invade the north, isn't it?"

"Yes. And Moat Cailin guards the way." Said Ser Franklin.

"So it stands to reason that for a northern army to invade the riverlands, they would have to travel that very same causeway, no?"

"Yes," Lyam Mallister said slowly. "What are you trying to get at, cousin?"

"The north has no navy," Something that is utterly absurd and something of an oversight of GRRMs, but something I was more than willing to abuse for the nonce. "We don't have to worry about any sort of amphibious landing, so the only way for them to try and make a grab for our land is to march an army down the causeway through the neck. What I am trying to say coz, is why don't we build our own Moat Cailin on our side of the Neck?"

I wonder why no previous King of the Trident or Rivers and Hills or whatever had never thought of that. It all seemed rather simple in truth. Perhaps I was missing something as to why this had never been done before, but I wasn't really hitting anything in terms of what exactly I was missing.

I just chocked it up to GRRM trying to keep the narrative of the Riverlands being the bitch of the rest of Westeros.

Ser Franklin drummed his fingers on the table between us, staring intently at the map. "That is something...that can be done." I think there was some sense of awe or something in his voice. "But I doubt the crannogmen would just allow us to build such a thing."

Lyam Mallister scowled. "The mud men would surely harass our workers. And that is if King Torrhen allows us to just build something of such strategic value on our end."

Oh yeah, the King who knelt. I had nothing on him apart from the rumours and what people said about him. You know, the usual honourable Stark and all.

"There is also the fact that the causeway is the only land route into the north accessible to us. The same cannot be said for the crannogmen and the northmen. They most likely have all manner of secret routes through the neck that we know nothing about." The Frey of the Crossing pointed out as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"I can't say I've ever heard of an entire army being transported through swamp trails." There was that one Brazilian general that build a fucking road through a swamp or something, but my knowledge of him was iffy and I think I was getting the details wrong. That and the fact that there was a vast difference in technology of that guys time as well to the current time. "And even if King Torrhen decides to look into alternative methods of trying to get his army down south, I think we would be able to notice any build up of forces before they become anything sort of a credible threat."

I refused to believe that Daeron the Young Dragon was somehow able to get his army unnoticed through the mountains of Dorne by using fucking goat trails. There had to be another reason. That and I still called bullshit about the mountain path that Grey Wind had been able to find that he somehow was able to use to get Robb and his thousands of cavalry into the Westerlands.

But those mountain paths, I knew existed, could very well prove to be useful in the future if they are found.

The others nodded at that. "I suppose the same can be applied to the highroads?" Lyam asked as he traced a finger from the north to the mountains of the Vale of Arryn. "Build some fortifications to control the roads on our borders, enough to stall any potential invasions from the Knights of the Vale?"

We could do that? I didn't know anything about the highroads, but if Lyam was saying we could do it, then I suppose we are going to do it. I just simply nodded my head.

"Problem is," Ser Franklin began. "The Vale have something the north, that we even don't have, a navy. They could very well make an assault on one of our port towns and take it uncontested from the seas."

He had a point. "We'll deal with that little problem when we get to it. At the moment, we have to concentrate on trying to control the routes into the riverlands on land routes instead of the sea. There's nothing we can do about the sea until we solve this issue."

He nodded then. "So that takes care of the east and north, what of the south and west?"

I frowned on that one. I had been thinking on how to handle the south, the part of the kingdom that didn't have anything resembling any sort of blatant physical geography that we could try and turn to our advantage. I was still hung on that, but the west though, the west at the very least, I had something in mind.

"We have to take the Golden Tooth." It was simple really. The Golden Tooth overlooked the one large pass that allowed any sort of army from the west to attacking the east and vice versa.

The Tullys have always looked warily in the direction of the Golden Tooth in the case of attack from the Lannisters, sort of went into our traditional role of being the first in the line of defence against any westermen attack. If we were able to take and hold and control the Golden Tooth, not only do we get a boost in wealth from the gold in that direction, but at the same time, we control a land route that would give us the advantage against the westermen.

I would have been a little bit worried about the Deep Den considering that it controlled another pass into the east from the west, but that was located just off our border and inside the lands controlled by the Gardeners...in other words, not my problem.

Won't stop me from keeping an eye on the place of course. Or building something to keep an eye on the place. Can't be too careful with the politics of the Seven Kingdoms.

Lyam gave me a look. "That is easier said than done. Would you have some sort of plan into taking this castle?"

"I have the beginnings of something resembling a plan." But I needed to find that mountain path Robb had found and a navy and a well trained army. In other words, I was a few years away from taking it, hopefully, I would never have to take it when Aegon comes knocking.

What I was doing was going to be meaningless anyway. Getting the Riverlands prepped up for future conflicts, just a few months, may haps even weeks (or years) before Aegon makes his landing and forges an empire for himself and incestuous family.

"What of the south then?" Ser Franklin asked.

I just shrugged my shoulders. "I was hoping you lot would have something in mind, because I'm lost."

Ser Franklin and Lyam just merely shared a look between each other and then between all of us and that was all that needed to be said on that subject. It seemed we were going to have to be flying on the seat of our pants in terms of anything relating to our borders with the Durrandons and Gardeners.

"If that's all my lords, I think we can call it a day for now."

I needed rest.

When it came to the Storm Kingdom, I had caught something of a break. I had been worried sick about them trying to take what in canon would be called the crownlands, straight out from underneath me, but it seemed I had been stressing over nothing.

Argillac was too busy enjoying himself warring in the Disputed Lands against the Volantenes, which left his daughter in charge of the Storm Kingdom and considering that her father had taken fighting men across the narrow sea, I doubt Argella was at all interested in starting a war at home whilst her kingdom was also involved in a war abroad.

Especially if her father was to ask for reinforcements.

I was so hoping a butterfly would do something and a random arrow strike Argillac down. Sure, the Storm Kingdom would properly get torn apart in a civil war as some lord or another tries to claim the Storm Throne for himself from Argella, but whatever, chaos abroad was better than chaos at home.

Bloody hell, I can see my foreign policy forming right now and I didn't like what I was seeing. Not that I objected to what it was, but because I doubt I had the brains to pull it off. I was no chess master or anything resembling some sort of magnificent bastard.

Instead, I was more likely to be played than be the one to do the playing.

Still though, Argillac being away from home? I would take that one small win and use everything in my power to make sure I don't get dragged into a war when he comes back.

Hm, perhaps I should send out some feelers to the Gardeners or Dorne? Pressure him to play nice with the threat of an alliance that surrounded him from three directions?

Something to think about, I suppose.

Blake Rivers was an intelligent looking guy, a bit scrawny, but it was easy to tell that he was packing some rather lean muscles. Probably something that he built up working in the Wheel Tower of Riverrun. Unsurprisingly, Blake was the bastard son of a Tully household knight.

His father had packed him off to the Citadel to hide the shame from his wife, but he never actually finished forging his chain. He only had one ring to his name, a white steel ring, signifying his mastery in the art of engineering.

I suppose that such a background would be needed to maintain and run the Wheel Tower. Probably some of the most advanced in engineering in Westeros at work in that tower.

He was rubbing at the stubble of his chin as he stood in front of me. "I think it's doable, my lord." He blinked for a moment. "I mean, your grace. Apologies for that."

"It's fine." I said with a placid smile. "I'm not even used to it yet, so I can't blame you, someone who has known me since I was nothing more than a child." We shared a chuckle between the two of us. Being humble can go a long way, as long as I knew when to brag. I could do that. "So the forges and smithies?"

"It's never been done before. I don't think such a thing has ever been thought off." He said, to my complete and utter surprise. Who could have guessed something like a water powered forge had ever been thought off in the entirety of Westeros in it's long history? Not me for certain. "I'll need to speak to Mikken back at Riverrun for some of the more technical details, but we should probably be able to build something for you to inspect soon enough, provided we have the materials."

I nodded my head. "And of the other thing?"

"The printing press?" Blake Rivers mouthed the words as if tasting them. "We'll work on that as well, your grace. But which would you like first?"

"The forges." I said without missing a beat. Those could very well be the difference between life and death for me. "The printing press can wait. I want the forge first, the rest can wait for now."

He nodded his head. "Then I better make my way back then to Riverrun and make a start." He gave me a formal bow before he left. "Your grace."

Maybe I should have asked him to work on the printing press first? The Faith was still influential and had a lot of substantial powers at this point in time. I think the ability to be able to print out hundreds or was it thousands of the equivalent of the Bible here, whatever it is, could prove to be something of a soft diplomatic option that could get me a lot of influence.

Eh well, already made my choice, might as well live with it for the moment. No point in complaining about split milk.

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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Feb 23, 2017

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TryingToBeKuw

TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Mar 17, 2017

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#611

Going to try and regular with the updates, just uni has been taking most of my time lately, but should have more free time soon enough. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter.

It was painfully rather obvious that the prisoner had seen better days. As he walked to what was essentially his certain death, I couldn't help but notice that just not that long ago, this had been a man of terrifying physical capabilities, but here he was, being dragged towards the hangman's noose with little objection from him.

It probably had something to do with the fact that the man had only been given enough food to last him till this very day. I was more surprised that no-one had tried to slip the cook a gold dragon to put some poison in and let him suffer a painful the death. Perhaps the strangler or the tears of Lys or whatever hell poison that existed in this blasted universe.

And I just realised that gold dragons weren't actually going to be a thing for a while. Which then leads me to think that I was going to have to do something about that...actually, I don't think I have to. I'll just keep with whatever we had been using until Aegon comes by and bathes the continent in 'Fire and Blood'.

Heh.

I had been meaning to use those very words in one way or another. Although it doesn't have the bite I thought it would have, maybe because it's an internal monologue? Going to have to try and throw it out there in a sentence at some point.

Wait, I'm getting off-track here, I was in the midst of doing something. That something being that Harren Hoare was finally about to meet his end.

The ironborn tyrant had drawn quite the audience for his last performance. Lords, ladies, common men and women had come from the surrounding area. To be honest, I was rather positive that most of these people had been here with the sieging forces of the riverlords.

"Monster!"

"Tyrant!"

"Burn in all the Seven hells!"

Ah there we go.

The crowd was now definitely getting into it. I had found it rather odd that they had been rather all quiet like when Harren made his appearance. Now that he was closer to the gallows that had been erected just for him, they were now voicing their frustrations and anger and hatred at the man that had ruled over them with an iron fist for several decades.

They would probably have thrown all kinds of crap at him, and I do mean that, all kinds of crap including crap at Harren, but Harren was still a king and a certain respect had to be shown towards his station. That was one reason, another was the fact that I was trying to build an image here.

I don't know what image I wanted to build, but something along the lines that I respect people (or something along them lines), even if I wasn't the most caring or empathic of people.

General apathy to everyone and everything was my reigning philosophy in life, but I doubted that would cut it in this place. Being stuck on the fence was something that probably wasn't looked upon fondly, Walder Frey was probably an example of that, if I could actually remember anything more about the Freys apart from the fact that everybody hates them and that Walder Frey was one of the most hated people in Westeros and then some.

Harren was thinner. I had pointed that out previously. He had been a lean man of muscle before, when he had been fed regularly and properly. This time? He was still a lean man, but I doubted the muscle was still there.

His beady little eyes squinted in the bright surroundings of the outside world, out in the open, where the sun's beauty radiated all around. This was the first time the kiss of the sun was touching him in weeks. I had kept him in the darkest dungeon that we could find in Harrenhal. It hadn't been that difficult, Harren had managed to get himself a shit ton of dungeons built into his castle.

When I had seen him earlier in the day, his hair had grown long and tatty with a similar tatty and unkempt beard and moustache to accompany the ragged and gaunt look that he had come to. I had people attend to him to clean him up as best as they could and then dress him in clothes befitting a king.

A dick of a king but a king nonetheless.

You know, he didn't look half bad...in a sort of rather unhealthy sort of way, if you know what I mean.

I held up a hand to quieten down the crowd, which they did after a few moments. I turned to look at Harren. "Any last words?" The reply I got was Harren harking up a glob of spit and sending it in my direction. One of the guards that had brought him to the gallows was about to introduce his fist into his side, but a look from me stopped that from happening. "I'll take that as a resounding 'No' then." I said as I wiped the spit of my face with the sleeve of my doublet.

To be honest, I felt like punching the man for the sheer disrespect. I mean, you don't just spit on people. I have been sent off into football games because I reacted badly to people pulling that sort of shit.

Then I remembered I was stuck in the Dung Ages of Westeros, basic human decency would be in short supply going forth from here.

I motioned for the guards to lead him towards the stump where the execution would take place.

To be honest, it was all rather simple. There was nothing spectacular about it. I watched it all with a certain amount of curiosity, which, I admit, was rather fucked up. I once wanted to be a doctor when I was a kid.

I did the necessary subjects in high school and sixth form. It later turned out that I have a very squishy stomach and that I couldn't handle the sort of shit that I would need to handle to be a doctor.

The fact that I could now handle this sort of shit I had firmly put the responsibility into Edmyn's lap. This was his body. His memories. His mind. So it wouldn't be all that strange if some of the things that made 'Edmyn' Edmyn bled over into me.

And to be honest, I was rather thankful for this bleed over effect. It did wonders for me adjust as well as I have to my new surroundings.

Harren was forced onto his knees with some resistance from him, but he hadn't been fed properly and thus he was weak. He didn't put up much of a fight. The headsman stepped up with his giant-ass axe.

He raised it and lowered it.

That was the end of it. Blood squirted out from his neck for a few moments. Harren's head rolled over to where I had been standing and I made a note that there should have been a bucket or something to catch his head.

I bent down and picked it up. Somewhere from the depths of my mind, I recollected one of the Assassin's Creed Unity trailers or gameplay videos. It was an assault on a French manor, crowd of plebs outside rioting and shit and inside, the French aristocracy eating their cake among others.

The assassin's reach their target, throw him out for the crowd to deal with and he get's beheaded. Then things get freaky and we see the world from the point of view of the beheaded aristocrat. I wonder if that was happening right now? Could Harren see me? Understand what had just happened?

Or was that nothing more than gameplay theatrics?

Well, it's not like it mattered anyway now.

And I just now realising I am holding someone's head in my hand...what the hell do I do with it? Drop it or do something else with it?

I am very conflicted at this moment in time.

So I do something rather brilliant followed by something I consider rather petty but well deserved. I hefted Harren's head as high as I could for the people to see and the roar that greeted me was deafening.

Not Wembley Stadium fully packed deafening, but it was most certainly somewhere the top one hundred. I sincerely doubt there are ninety thousand people here at this very moment in time. If there was, I would eat my hat.

Then came the rather petty action of me just chugging his head into the crowd of people.

Okay, I admit, I was still slightly pissed off about Harren spitting at me. People just didn't do that.

And I suppose there went whatever image I was so very carefully trying to build.

I was greeted with a rather unfamiliar sight as I reached my pavilion. A weathered man, dressed in cloth-of-silver vestments and crystal coronals. His attire already set him off as someone that was well-to-do and another warning sign was the fact that he seemed to be accompanied by a man who was either one of the most well-equipped guardsman I have ever met or a knight of some kind.

The guardsman or knight wore armour of inlaid silver over a plain looking shirt, a rainbow cloak. His shield held a strange device, then again, every device I have come to see in the Riverlands was just plain strange, this one though, might as well have been normal, a shield, pitch black with a rainbow coloured sword.

The man took notice of my approach and met me half-way with a smile on his face. "Ah, your grace, it's a pleasure to finally meet you."

He held out a hand which I took and started shaking. He was more eager in the shaking than I was.

"The same, lord...?" I trailed off to get a name. I didn't recognise him from any of the lords I had already met and I was positive that I had met all of them. It was a different question all together if I could put a face to a name.

The man smiled as he shook his head. "Not a lord, your grace. I am nothing more than a humble servant of the Faith of the Seven."

I blinked. "Oh." The Faith of the Seven, in other words, this was my first contact with Westeros version of the Catholic Church. Got to make a good impression. How do I make a good impression here? Especially with the knowledge that the Faith might as well be worshipping Cthulhu or some other mind breaking dark power? "My apologies," I began with a slight lowering of the head in apology. "I've just had a busy day and my mind is all a whirl."

The man of faith smiled some more, gently as he began to lead me towards the pavilion. "It's fine, your grace. Setting up Harren's execution must have taken the planning. It was handled splendidly, despite the man's belief in a false god."

Who might be more real than whatever you lot worship. What was a Deep One again? A giant squid? I wondered how the ironborn would feel learning about that.

It would be hilarious to see at the very least.

"Although your last act to throw Harren's head to be savaged by the commons was most juvenile." The septon prattled on before his tone took one of understanding before I could come into my defence. "But it would very much be understandable. You are young and all the feelings and wrongful deaths that Harren must have visited upon your people came rushing up. Understandable indeed." He nodded sagely, like a grandfather would.

I gave the most amiable smile that I could muster. "Yes. Not my proudest moment. My feelings got the better of me then." Gotta remember to be a friendly little bastard, wouldn't wanna piss of the Faith with all the resources that they could muster. "Despite that and everything else Harren has done, he was still a king. A king deserves a proper execution and the right deference towards his station. I'm sorry to say this, but I never did get your name, septon."

The septon blinked for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. "Of course, my apologies. I just happened to have been caught up in the moment. I am Willis. I serve the Faith and the Gods as one of their Most Devouts."

A Most Devout? Edmyn's memories helped me realise this person was right up there in the Faith hierarchy. Theoretically, just underneath the High Septon and whoever was Willis' boss in whatever function he served the Faith in.

To get a Most Devout? I was making waves. Whether that was good or bad was something I had yet to determine.

"You don't mind if I take a seat, do you, your grace? Travelling from Oldtown to Harrenhal does take a toll on these old bones of mine." The septon asked.

I waved towards a free seat in the pavilion. I even moved to draw it back from the centre of the table for him. "No, none at all. Would you like a drink as well?" Was I being too submissive here? Politics was never something I doubted I would have been good at.

Willis shook his head as he took his seat. "No, no. It's fine."

I nodded and for a while, there was a silence in the pavilion as we just stared at each other. Willis' eyes seemed to be alight with some kind of light as they studied over me as I tried to keep the most amiable look I had on my face. It's a good thing that I was something of a perpetual smiler. One way or another, I had some kind of smile on my face, even if it was a small one.

"I must say," Willis eventually broke the silence. "Many of the faithful across the Seven Realms had hoped for one day for Harren and his ilk to be stroke down from the riverlands. I have it in good faith that His Most Holiness was at work to finally be rid of the Riverlands of the depravations of the ironborn."

So the High Septon had been planning some kind of crusade or whatever the Westerosi equivalent of a crusade was against the ironborn? I don't know whether that happened in canon or not, but alright, whatever. "It's nice to know that w us riverlanders were never to far from the thoughts of His Most Holy."

Septon Willis bobbed his head up and down as he continued speaking. "You cannot begin to believe the amount of joy we felt when we learned that one of the gods own had risen up in rebellion against Harren. His Most Holy was most excited and dispatched me immediately when he heard of your successes. As a representative of the gods themselves in our world. He speaks for them and acts for them. Of course, His Most Holy is still only a man. One man and that is why we of the Faith exist. We are not bound by the borders set by mortal kings, lords or crowns, wherever the pious need salvation or guidance, we shall be there." He finished his little tirade, looking at me.

I was no political science student, but I think I got the gist of it here. The Faith was powerful and I should tread carefully to not fuck with them or upset them or something. Okay, got it.

I nodded again. "Only makes sense. It would be rather weird and confusing if the Faith that bound us all was answered to a king of the earthly realm. It would make for rather confusing loyalties."

Willis chuckled in good nature. "That is very much true, your grace. I hope you don't mind an old man asking, but what are your plans for the future?"

Plans for the future? Get Aegon to burn Oldtown to the ground and strip the Faith of any and all power that it had, like that of canon. Of course, I couldn't very well say that, so the smile that was already plastered on my face just grew a little bit wider than it was already as I answered.

"For the nonce? Get my borders in check and I try to rebuild the Riverlands from the damages that Harren visited upon us."

"Young but already thinking of the weight of the crown on your head." Most Devout Willis stood up. "I think you shall do fine as King of the Trident and Hills."

This time, I couldn't hold back the sardonic smile that crept onto my lips. "That only works if the other kingdoms play nice and keep to themselves."

"Have faith, your grace. Not all men are ruled by greed for gold or land. Some can even be guided to the right paths with the right words of wisdom counselled to them." The septon said this all as pleasant as could be, but as his words registered with me, I couldn't help but think;

How much is this going to cost me?

I sincerely doubted the right words of wisdom from sound counsel was going to come cheap.

That same old, same old smile plastered onto my face, I nodded my head. "I wouldn't mind hearing what you have to say, Most Devout."

Take a picture of the smile on the Most Devout's face and with the expression he wore and how he looked, one wouldn't think of him as anything more than a loving grandfather. Looks were deceiving, something that people learn once or twice in their life, mostly to their cost.

In my case, if I ever saw a picture of Willis posted onto a social media account, the snake emoticon would be out in a moment, cause this guy was a bloody snake and I was not amused. When Aegon burns the Faith to the ground, I was going to make sure I had front row seats.

Placing a soft hand on my shoulder, the Most Devout spoke. "Then we have much and much more to discuss."

Kinda liking the political discussion lads about who whatever the SI's nickname is shall be marrying. I think it's going to be slightly left field when it eventually comes to mind.

And no, it's not going to be one of the Targaryens. As much as any reasonably sane man would like to have Visenya Targaryen walk all over them, Aegon isn't characterised as stupid enough as to hand off something like one of the only three dragons in the world (And second in size to Balerion I think (might be fanon or canon, can't remember) to someone who isn't even of Valyrian heritage is a bit of a hard sell.

Maybe if there was more than three dragons to share around.

Last edited: Mar 18, 2017

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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Mar 17, 2017

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TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Aug 16, 2017

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#757

AN: It's been a while hasn't it? Going to be picking up the pace of the story.

I'll also be sorting out a timeline and a calendar soon enough.

When exactly did Aegon come and William the Conqueror shit out of Westeros again? I remember that he and Argilac became sort of buddies when they fought against Volantis during the Century of Blood and then after that, what happened again?

This at all didn't help me with the fact that Georgie boy never bothered to build his world in a more detailed manner. When I read the books, I couldn't help but wonder what the calendar was before Argon had conquered Westeros. I don't think ever mentioned it in the narration or was even alluded to in the books.

It didn't help that now I was living in that time period before Aegon, I learned that trying to keep the date was complete and utter bullshit. The fucking Andals couldn't even decide which fucking calendar to follow!

As far as their calendars was concerned, it was either the year six thousand something or four thousand something or two thousand something, all depending on which date the Andals came and brought civilisation to Westeros.

It also didn't help that depending on the maester, it was either the year six-four-two thousand something depending on his school of thought.

Like I said, confusing.

Alright, me complaining about dates aside, the entire reason I was complaining about dates was because the World of Ice and Fire doesn't exactly tell when Aegon and his sisters came swooping in with their dragons. Basically, what I'm trying to say is...I have no idea when Aegon makes his appearance. It could be an hour, a day, a week, a month-oh wait a second, Aegon invaded after the whole Volantis affair was over and done with, right?

So, I just had to wait until that was done.

Problem is, this rounds back to the whole problem of me not knowing when the Volantis ends its whole Empire Strikes Back phase.

I once read something on the internet about Georgie complaining about Tolkien and his world building...now that I'm sort of living in Georgie's world before canon, he really had no grounds to stand on and bitch about. At least Tolkien had a well-documented and functional calendar.

…

I'm griping. I don't like griping.

I should just go with it and just wait it out until Aegon eventually makes his appearance. Until then, roads need to be built, canals need to be guilt, some kind of government for the Riverlands has to be built.

I had some work in front of me.

I really wish I at the very least chosen to take Business Management and Public Policy as a course at uni. Probably one semesters worth of knowledge in such a course could help me more than anything at this point in time.

I don't think my maester liked me much, then again, for the past two months, I had given him more work than he probably would have liked to never have, primarily, the job of teaching the castle brats of Riverrun how to read and write amongst other things, but then again, he was bound to serve, so fuck him.

"Some of the children seem to be learning faster than others." Maester Jaime, yes, his name was Jaime. I wonder if he was a Lannister or was related to the Lannisters or something. Maybe Jaime was a more common name than I thought. Don't think I saw any Jaime's in any of the Lannister family trees, or maybe I can't remember. "This has proven to be quite the problem when it comes to their overrall education."

He sounded a bit sour. I chewed on the apple in hand that was part of my five a day. "Okay, I'm sure this can easily be solved. Just separate the classes with the students with the ones that are excelling one or more classes and the ones that are not in another and teach them accordingly."

He gave me the sort of look that someone would give when they say something particularly stupid. I don't particularly think anything I said was at all stupid.

If the maester wore glasses, he would probably be pushing them up the bridge of his nose right about now. "I have done that. The problem is, with the number of children, I can't possibly teach all of them by myself. I need help."

Oh, now that I think about it, how many children did I tell him to teach again? I'm sure it was a fair few.

"Okay, so what do you need, fellow maesters to help with your teaching duties?"

The grey sheep shook his head. "Contrary to popular belief, my lo-your grace," I ignored the hiccup of addressing me by my new title. "Us maesters are not as widespread as is commonly believed. The Citadel might boast thousands upon thousands of acolytes and students, but only a fair hundreds of them eventually forge their chain."

"Okay..." I assume he had a point to all of this.

Jaime cleared his throat. "In other words, unless completely necessary, a single maester is more than enough for one house and requesting more depends on some extra-ordinary circumstances."

"Hm, I'm guessing requesting more maesters to help teach some peasant urchins isn't extra-ordinary circumstances?"

He shook his head. "No, your grace."

I took a moment away from biting into my apple and pensively look somewhere, "So what do I need to do here? Hire teachers from across the narrow sea?" I noticed the look that had come across Jaime. "...Did I say something wrong?"

"You would entrust the teaching of young Westerosi youth to those Essosi barbarians?"

"Well, I wouldn't call them barbarians..." Wasn't Volantis bigger than any city in Westeros? Apart from the whole slavery thing, if I wasn't wrong, the Free Cities were considered more culturally advanced in some fan forums back on the world wide web. "But still though, if you're against it, what should we do then? I can't really expect you to teach all of your new students and do your duties as maester of Riverrun."

Jaime linked his arms together, hidden in the loose robes of his vest. "Maesters may be few in number, but that cannot be said for the acolytes. Some acolytes have been at the students for a few years, since they were children, others have been there for decades and might have as much knowledge as maesters."

"Soo, what you're saying is, we should get some acolytes to do some of the teaching?"

Jaime nodded. "Yes, your grace. That is exactly what I'm saying."

"Okay then, can you send out a request?"

"The Citadel could very well require recompense for the loss of manpower?"

Oh for fuck sake. Does everyone want money in this place to do a simple fucking thing?

"How much is this going to cost me?" I tried not to sigh out.

"That depends on the Citadel, your grace."

This time I couldn't help but sigh and wished there was a chair for me to flop onto in exasperation. "Just go sent the letter. Thank you for informing this, Jaime."

Jaime bowed. "It is my will to serve, your grace." He said before parting and leaving me to my thoughts.

Thoughts filled with me deciding, the first chance I get, to get a complete lay of the land, and that meant a census in the vain of the Domesday Book. And quietly praying that when Lord Mooton comes back from his treating with the Iron Bank, he comes back with chests full of gold.

Hopefully, chests full of gold that I would be able to pay back. I was fully aware of how the Iron Bank went about and did its business.

Speaking of which, where was Braavos in the whole Volantene War? I don't think anything was ever said about them, or something was said about them during this time and I just can't remember.

Oh well, that little war didn't impact me so much at this point in time, so I don't particularly care much about it, so I was going to ignore it. Until it impacted me, if that actually happened.

I had woke up one day and about ready to go through my itinerary for the day only to find Lord Goodbrook riding through the gates of Riverrun like a triumphant Roman general coming back from some great victory in some far-off province. All that was missing was a triumph of all the riches and glory that they had acquired in their conquests.

"I have to say my lord, I hadn't been expecting you for quite a while." How long has it been, like a month or so? Lord Jason seemed like a fast worker. That was impressive.

Lord Jason gave me a customary large grin that didn't seem out of place on his face. "Oh, what can I say your grace, I'm a rather fast and studious worker. I prefer to get all of my jobs done with as fast as possible."

I nodded my head. "That's a good trait to have, my lord." I said as I looked over his protective detail and noticed something that was amiss. Two kids, dressed in colours that were not distinctly Goodbrook in colouring. "So how did it go?" I asked, noting the two kids to ask about later.

"I was more than able to thoroughly convince Lord Gared that you were the man to follow in the coming days."

I pursed my lips slightly. "Any...?"

He shook his head. "He was a reasonable enough sort about it."

I nodded then pointed towards the two kids that were taking in the sights of my castle. "Okay, so who are they?"

"That would-be Willem and Alys Darklyn, Lord Gared's heir and favoured daughter." Lord Jason Goodbrook then looked over to me, a glimmer in his eyes. "And your new court paiges."

Oh hostages. Wait, I thought paiges was strictly a boy thing? Did he mean lady-in-waiting? But I didn't need a lady-in-waiting or have a female relative that would be in need of one.

I looked over the two kids once more and sighed. "I suppose there's a whole story to this."

Lord Jason's grin couldn't be bigger. "Oh, you have no idea, your grace."

For a youth of two-and-ten years of age, Willem Darklyn was rather short for his age, to me anyway. I was positive I had been taller at that age, both in this life and the previous. I wonder if he was the sort of kid to get annoyed about being teased about his height? Well, since we were going to be working together in the foreseeable future, I had time to learn all about it.

Oh yeah, he seemed grumpy for some reason. Probably had something to do with the circumstances of his happening to be here.

His sister on the other hand stood at three-and-ten, so she was older and seemed to have her wits more about her. The look she was giving me was absent of any sort of emotion that I could work with. And she didn't even shy out of meeting my eye sight.

I guess that she was a proper lady.

"Right..." I began as I poured them some mulled wine. Kids had wine in this day and age. "Wine?" They shared a look between the two of them as they eyed the beverages offered to them. I rolled my eyes. "They are not poisoned." To prove my point, I poured myself some and took a drink from a glass of my own. "See? Not poison-Arck!" I started chocking and spitting out my wine.

The two of them jumped up to their feet in alarm, panicked looks on their faces, that turned from panic to confusion when I started laughing to myself.

"What?" Willem let out flatly as he looked at the chuckling me.

His sister eyed me, eyebrows burrowed together, but not saying anything.

"Sorry, finally, I got something out of you lot." I said in-between chuckles as I wiped away the wine from my mouth. "I mean, I was beginning to think the two of you were mutes."

The sister finally spoke. "What is wrong with you?"

"Nothing, I just have a sense of humour." I replied easily enough.

She crossed her arms as she continued to look down at me from her standing position. "Would it still be amusing for you if your guards best into this very room, saw you chocking and think us responsible?"

I thought about it for a moment. She did bring up a good point..."Still somewhat...funny?" I offered as an answer.

She was really clutching to those skirts of hers, quite hard judging by the whites of her knuckles.

"Alys..." Willem spoke quietly as he nervously glanced at his older sister. "Let's calm down, yes?"

"I am calm, Willie."

I nearly chocked. "Willie."

The boy's face just dropped as he looked upon my laughing visage. "I've asked you to stop calling me that. We aren't children anymore."

"Willie!" I was struggling to breath. Willie was certainly a new variation to William, but then again, his name was Willem, so it was probably a fair cop, but still. "I'm sorry, I just can't."

Willem looked a bit put out. "Look what you've done Alys. Why did you go and have to call me that here? Willem, Will, anything other than that!"

Alys seemed to calm down for a moment and crossed her arms, her knuckles were still white. "It was a slip of the tongue. Sorry, I got too heated." I was still struggling to talk, which seemed to annoy her even further. "Will you please control yourself? If you're going to call yourself a king, act like it."

Oh, she had attitude, good for her. I still found her brother's nickname to be hilarious.

"As a king, I'm liable to act how I please. And I'm acting highly amused by your brother's nickname, Willie." I wiped away at imaginary tears from my eyes. "But still, let's get to the crux of the problem. I don't have any sisters, so I don't really need a lady-in-waiting."

Alys stood stiffly for a moment. "Then what's going to happen to me then?"

Was that a hint of nervousness in her voice? Hm, probably. "I've got a couple of ideas on mind, will probably entrust you to one of my vassals who might be in need of one." Lady Anya? Probably. Lyam also had an older and a younger sister, so there was that option available.

Willem looked worriedly at his sister before setting his eyes on me. "What about me?"

"Well, you were brought here to be a page, so that's what you're going to be. Might even squire you out to a household knight, I've got a few, and a couple of them are handy with sharp, slicey, pointy things."

"So not you then, my lord?"

"Probably me, I just can't really be bothered." I shrugged. "Too much effort."

Willem blinked before a look of anger slowly came onto his face. "You would squire me out to a household knight? That's an insult upon my person, upon House Darklyn!"

Oh yeah, he was a bit of a lordling wasn't he? It wasn't that deep.

I sighed as I ran a hand through my hair and explained my reasoning for the perceived insult upon his person. "If you haven't realised yet kid, I happen to now be king of a recently founded kingdom. My time, the vast majority of it will consist of doing my duties as king and sleeping, with less sleep than I would like. I won't really have time for any squiring of duties for you, but you will be on hand to shadow me every now and then and learn what it is like to be a lord, so there's that. It would be much better if a knight with more time than me did the duties that involves a squire and his knight.

"At the very least, I'll get you a good enough knight of renown to be your mentor. Is that good enough for you?"

Willem blinked for a moment before he and his sister glanced at each other once more. He then grudgingly looked in my direction. "I...I suppose that would suffice, your grace. Apologies for my previous behaviour."

I waved his apology off. "You're barely into your teens, Willie," An eye twitched on the young heir to Duskendale." I'm not expecting much in model behaviour. So, it's fine. But why don't we talk about picnics?"

This time, both eyebrows twitched in annoyance.

"Heh."

Stories of mine you can read at your own pleasure.

Forged In The Trident [ASOIAF AU]

ATIF: Surge of Storms [ASOIAF AU]

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TryingToBeKuw

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TryingToBeKuw

TryingToBeKuw

I used to care, then I discovered Dark Souls.

Aug 28, 2017

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#788

The sparring sword was knocked away from his hands by a blow he barely saw coming before it clattered onto the murky ground of the yard.

"You were too eager, again." Ser Garret groused as he looked down at him. Will let out a sigh as he waited for the insult that was surely to be thrown his way. "Even a blind rat would have noticed that opening was nothing more than bait."

Yes, there it was.

Ser Garret, was anything, if not predictable in his own way. Actually, Will couldn't help but wonder about something, if a rat was blind, how would it be able to see the bait? Did Ser Garret not realise what he said didn't make any sort of sense?

Or was the contradiction in his insult another way to try and rile him up? If so, he certainly wasn't making a good show of it.

"Pick up your sword and let's do this again."

"Aye sir." Willem replied as he picked up his sparring sword once more. He turned and steadied himself, shield held in front of him and his sword held at the ready.

Ser Garret took a moment to look him over before giving a single nod of the head. "Good, begin." With that single command, Will strode forth to be given another battering once more.

It seemed the king had kept to his word about giving him to be squired to a knight of renown. Will had never heard of Ser Garret, not even all the way south in Duskendale, but then again, he never ventured any further north than the Antlers and for good reason as well, Harren the Black lurking around those parts.

To his own research, Ser Garret seemed to be a knight of respect amongst the Tully household, although the knight being sworn to the Tullys made it rather suspect that what people said about him should be taken with a hint of salt. Perhaps some wished to not insult the knight, especially to his newly announced squire.

A good knight he might be, a good person he was not.

Ser Garret sent a thrust at him that Will was quick enough to block with the raising of his shield. He took a step to the side and swung his blunted sword at the older knight's arm, in a bid to, at the very least, disarm him, of his weapon. Not his arm.

If only it was possible. He thought to himself idly before cursing as Ser Garret pulled his arm back quick enough that his attack missed. He quickly hid himself behind his shield once more as a couple of attacks battered against it, each strike forcing him to reground himself.

Ser Garret was both fast and strong.

Faster than him and stronger as well.

In a moment of clarity and reprieve, Will charged forth, putting all of his weight behind him. Any other day, he wouldn't be able to knock a man down who was that much bigger and taller than him, but he hoped at the very least, the surprise behind this particular stratagem would catch him unawares for a brief moment to give him a chance to catch the day's victory.

After all, all he had to do for this to all be over was to land one clean hit and that would be it.

"Yes Willem! Just like that"

Wait, was that Alys? He began to turn his head slightly to see if it was indeed his sister before he realised something, he was in the midst of a spar, Shit, I have to concent- it was too late as that moment of inattention was swiftly and brutally taken by Ser Garret.

A powerful swing from the older man resulted in Will's shield being ripped from his off-hand, leaving him open to a powerful low swing into his abdomen that sent him crashing onto his back. To Will though, the pain was secondary to taking in as many breaths as possible to regain the breath that had been knocked out of him.

"Will!" He heard his sister cry out, before he heard the slight sounds of feet running above the din of the training yard. His sister's form soon stood over him, her expression a mixture of worry and anger. "Are you alright?"

Will coughed as he continued to drag in air into his lungs. "I'm fine."

Alys looked him over a couple more times before the worry on her face disappeared before turning into anger. She quickly rose from her crouched form and to her feet and marched towards Ser Garret, her face the visage of an angry goddess.

"What do you think you were doing!?" She demanded, angrily. "You could have killed him!"

"He shouldn't have been distracted then, girl." The knight grunted out, not at all seemingly affected by the anger thrown in his direction.

Will shakily rose to his feet, his free hand placed over his stomach, thankful for the padded clothing he wore. That had taken the brunt of the blow, but he knew that it was going to be hurting in the moment. In fact, he was rather sure he was going to be spotting a lot of bruises come the morn.

Ser Garret's explanation didn't at all dissuade his somewhat worry-wart of a sister. "That's not excuse!"

Did Alys always screech this much? And people were now starting to look. She was making a commotion. Will didn't want this. All this attention.

"Alys, I'm fine," He began walking towards his sister. When he reached her, he placed a calming hand on her shoulder, something he did, he noticed, quite a few times as of the past few weeks since their time in Riverrun. Hopefully, his sister would be able to control her anger when it came to her duties as lady-in-waiting to whoever the king thought was appropriate. "The ser has the right of it, I was distracted, even for a moment and was punished for it. If this had been a battlefield, I would have found myself injured or worse."

Ser Garret's dark eyes blinked once as he spoke. "By that, girl, he means dead. Your brother would have been dead."

Will stopped himself from having to thank the knight for pointing out the obvious. His sister wasn't as considerate. "Thank you for that, ser. It's not as if I would have figured that out myself."

"Oh Alys..." Sometimes, Will though that Alys was the gods punishment to him for some unknown crime that he had committed. He loved his sister, he truly did, but sometimes, she was just so...

The knight's eyes laid themselves on Alys and for a second, Will thought the ser would lay hands on Alys. He didn't know why he thought that way, there had been no flash of dangerous intent in the knight's eyes, but those dark eyes of his, it made it rather difficult to get a bead on the man or his intentions.

"What do you want, girl?" He asked, simply.

Alys was defiant as she looked back at him. "I have a name."

"Yes, yes you do, and it's girl. Now. What. Do. You. Want?"

"The king has requested for my brother to attend to him for the evening."

The ser was quiet for a moment. "His Grace could have sent one of his messengers to get him. How do I know this is not a ploy for you to get your brother out of his badly needed martial training?"

"I'm not happy about this myself to be nothing more than His Grace's messenger," Alys said in what, Willem hoped to be the most polite tone of voice as possible considering the manner of her words. "But until I am attached to a lady, I am currently attending to the king."

Will had to hold back a cough that nearly came out of his mouth. The ser just looked down at her, his expression unchanging. "Go." Before his full attention was brought back to Will and Will alone. "If I learn you were not needed and your sister had come to remove you from your training, I wont be so gentle in our next sessions."

This was him being gentle? But none the less, Will nodded and bowed. "Yes, Ser Garret." With that, they left.

Will had been attending to the new King of the Rivers and Hills for little over two weeks now and he had still to make out the type of person the king was. It was easy enough to see that he was somewhat friendly and seemed to treat people with a certain noblesse oblige that seemed out of place for the most powerful man in the Riverlands even amongst the nobility. Sometimes, he chatted casually with some of the lowborn smallfolk, like old friends...that just wasn't done.

He understood that the king had grown up among these people and these smallfolk had more than likely served his family for several generations or for even thousands of years, but the way he treated them so casually, what kind of lord, let alone a king, acted like that? His father always said that a lord had to hold to himself to a certain gravitas.

From those observations alone, his new king didn't seem to have that gravitas, or perhaps he had yet to come and fully understand the gravitas that the king held.

May haps he would never understand.

"I think you're going to like this." The king said as he, well, he might as well be skipping towards the blacksmiths workshop. He seemed excited about something. "I really think you are going to like this. It's going to be brilliant."

Will and Alys had trouble keeping up with the pace that the king was setting, but they were making a good go of it. "What exactly are we going to like, Your Grace?"

"I thought I told you to call me Edmyn or Ed, whichever you prefer."

"Yes you did, Your Grace." Alys replied as she held up the front of her skirts slightly so that she didn't trip over them at the pace that had been set. "But it would be massively improper to refer to a king in such a manner."

Will nodded his head in agreement with his sister, even if the king wouldn't be able to notice the action. "It doesn't show the proper respect due for someone of your station."

The king made a sound then. "I suppose that's something I'm going to have to deal with. Whatever, I'll get used to it eventually, or I might eventually get you to actually call me Ed."

"Not going to happen, Your Grace." Alys said quickly with a certainty that left no rebuke.

The red-haired king let out a small chuckle then. "At least give me a chance to prove you wrong, my lady."

They continued to make their way towards the workshop. As of recently, the castle bustled with activity, there was never a time that it did not seem to Will that someone was doing something, except, perhaps during the night when people slept. Even then, people went about doing their duties till late or early morn.

There was even more people in the castle as well, as just a few days ago, he had seen a procession of several dozen men arrive at Riverrun and settle within the castle. It was only till later in the day that he had learned that the men were acolytes and novices that had been sent to Riverrun on the request of the king.

Why King Edmyn needed acolytes and novices from the Citadel when he had his maester was something he couldn't come up with a reasonable explanation. Something like this was something even his own lord father had never done before.

What could the king possibly want with even more coin-counters and scholars? Was one not enough for the king?

Perhaps I can finally have a private tutor instead of sharing the maester with others. Will thought to himself. It made sense. He didn't care much for the finer details of book learning, but he respected the knowledge they held well enough to know that it would be important for him to know the finer details of coin-counting for his future role as Lord of Duskendale.

He just didn't care much for sharing the maester with several dozen other children to learn from. Especially as he felt the speed of learning was particularly slow, something he cast the blame on his 'classmates' as the king put it.

It wasn't their fault, most of them were peasant brats that had more than likely never held a book in their life before.

And him sharing a maester's time with peasants was another insult thrown his way that he felt was obligated to weather.

He couldn't help but wonder if the king set out to intentionally insult and heap slight upon slight on his persons? Even as young as he was, he knew that would be foolish, considering in the future, he was set to become one of his greater lords in his realm.

In the end, it made his bid to understand the king even harder.

"Alright, we are here." The king said as he entered the workshop, where the blacksmith, Willem thought Mikken was his name, along with the keeper of the Wheel Tower, Blake Rivers and with them, standing to the sides were the apprentices of the blacksmith as they awaited for the king. "Tell me, does it work?"

The bastard nodded as he stepped aside to lead them to whatever it was that had gotten the king excited. "That's only for you to judge, Your Grace. But I'd like to think we did what was asked of us."

"I think you boys would have done a good job. I know I entrusted this project to the right men." The king said as he headed towards the...'project'.

Will didn't know what it was, but it was tall. Taller than him by, probably, a couple of feet and the same as well to how long it was, although the same couldn't be said to how wide it was. He tried to make sense of the thing, but he didn't know what to make of it.

"Alys...?" He ventured to his sister, to see if she knew what to make of this thing as well.

The response he received was nothing more than a shake of the head from his sister, who seemed to be having trouble much like him to make sense of the contraption in front of them. Surprisingly, she didn't seem to have something to say.

The king walked around the thing, taking it in, he even dragged a hand along its length and dipped his hand into something. Was that ink?

"Alright, let's see what it can do." The King of the Rivers and Hills eventually said.

The blacksmith nodded and indicated towards some of his apprentices. "You heard His Grace, let's get to it!"

What followed next was a mass of movement by a couple of the apprentices as they took positions around the machine and began to work at it. The screens folded down, an apprentice worked at a windlass. Curious, he took a step forward and saw that the bed of the thing was being rolled underneath what seemed to be like a platen of some kind.

The apprentices continued to work on the machine before eventually coming to a stop, opening up the screens once more and a sheet of parchment was removed by the blacksmith. The blacksmith moved towards the king and passed him the paper. "Your Grace." Was all he said as he handed the parchment over.

The king grabbed the parchment before looking it over, turning it this way and that before a smile slowly crept across his face. "My lady, gentlemen, the Renaissance bids us bonjour!"

Willem blinked as he tried to understand what the king had just announced, but all he could come with was. "What?"

This was Willem's first time seeing Lord Samwell Mooton. There was nothing about him that particularly stood out, he was of an average built, an average height and he was dressed rather demurely for one of the richer lords in the Riverlands.

After all, Maidenpool would not boast itself as the equal of Duskendale, no city or town could very well do that, but it was still the most prosperous port that was in the Riverlands proper, so was it safe to assume that the lord would be wealthier than most of his fellow lords?

Compared to the way he dressed himself, Lord Samwell might as well have been a pauper compared to his lord father.

The king looked over the parchment of paper that he held in his hands. He had been looking over it for quite a few moments and Willem couldn't help but wonder what was so important about it. What secrets did it hold to require so much concentration from the king?

"My lord, I will admit, that is a lot of zeros on this sum." He eventually yielded and began to roll the parchment of paper up and leaned into the back of his seat. "They agreed to give us all of this gold?"

Lord Samwell nodded his head with a slight smile that played on his lips. "There initial offer had been less in amount, but I eventually was able to convince them to increase their amount."

The king idly toyed with the parchment in his hands, his eyes darting from left to right as he absorbed everything in. "The interest rate is better than I thought it would be."

The lord of Maidenpool made a sound as he sighed. "Many of those of the Faith look down upon those who profit from the lending of coin, but in Essos, they follow their own false gods that allow them to commit such a sin."

"I know. It's a shame but I suppose the Iron Bank would have to generate a profit somehow." the king said with a shrug of the shoulders as he rolled up the parchment once more. "But as I said before, it's far better than I thought. You have my thanks, my lord."

The lord inclined his head in a respectful bow as he replied. "It was a pleasure to serve, your grace."

Willem blinked in surprise. This was about the Iron Bank? Even he knew about the Iron Bank. His father had once had business with them in the past and he had been unusually deferential to coin counters.

He nearly shuddered as he recalled what his father had once told him about the bank, about how they all lived in its shadow without knowing it. And how it was wiser to simply pay back the money one owes the bank rather than find themselves on the wrong side of the bank.

The king was quiet for a moment as he looked at Lord Samwell. "Speaking of service to the Crown, Lord Samwell, I had been meaning to ask if you would like to have a position in my government."

"Your government, Your Grace?"

The king nodded. "Aye, I can't rule our newly independent kingdom by myself. I need capable men to help me with many of the duties involved, and honestly," He shook the parchment of paper he held in his hand slightly in the air in front of him. "You were able to convince the Iron Bank to lend us a generous sum, a sum that is more than I expected to receive, on quite the terms for us. That takes skill, and I want you in my government, to use that capability."

Lord Samwell pursed his lips in thought. "So I shall be the coin counter of the kingdom?"

"I would prefer to call the position Minister of Finance, but if you're willing to call it the coin-counter, I am not one to stop you." The king offered with a light laugh. "Of course, you shall receive payment for the position, once all of the details have been sorted out."

Payment? Willem was confused. Why should the king pay the lord to come and do his duty? That didn't make any sort of sense. The lord was obligated to come to the king's aide, payment or not.

"May I have some time to think it over, Your Grace?" The lord asked. "It is a tempting offer."

"Take all of the time you need, my lord." The king paused for a moment. "But not too long. I might find someone else to be my minister. But I have to ask, what is the news from Essos? I'd admit, Ive heard sailor's tales here and there, but I'm more concerned with problems at home than abroad."

Willem leaned his head slightly forward from where he stood to try and hear better about what was about to be said. Like the king, he had heard of what was happening from Essos through the gossiping of women and men, but he supposed that wasn't as accurate as someone who had been on the continent itself.

"There isn't much news, Your Grace. Maybe you have heard already, but Volantis sued for peace some time back after Aegon Targaryen burned their fleet outside Lys and Argilac smashed their host in the Disputed Lands."

The king sighed. "So the same thing we've heard then. No new development has happened?"

"Unfortunately not, Your Grace."

The king rose and Lord Samwell rose with him. "Thank you for this, my lord. And I hope to hear a good answer from you soon enough." He said as he clasped hands with the lord.

"It was a pleasure to be of service, Your Grace."

Lord Samwell left not long after, leaving Willem with the king, in silence.

"A drink, Your Grace?" Willem offered, breaking the silence that had settled the private hall above the Great Hall of Riverrun.

"No, thank you for the offer though, Willem." The king replied.

Nodding, he continued speaking. "Would you require anything more of me, Your Grace?"

"No, that would be all for-." The king stopped abruptly as he put a finger to his lips in thought. "Actually, I have a message for you take to Maester Jaime." He said as he rose from his seat and went to the desk at the side and pulled out a small message scroll. Willem watched as the king dipped a quill into a pot of ink and began to scribble onto the scroll. "Give it to Maester Jaime, it's to head for Storm's End."

Willem blinked. "Storm's End?"

The king finished writing his message and sealed it with the sigil of House Tully. "Storm's End. This message might very well be of a great boon to our fledgling little kingdom. So I suppose it's rather important, try not to fail this mission, young Will." The king finished as he passed over the rolled-up scroll.

"I can deliver a message, Your Grace." Will replied easily enough. By now, he knew the king occasionally liked to rile him and his sister up, for nothing more than the 'funzies' as the king said. "I won't fail."

"Then godspeed, young Willem."

I was going to guess these hills I was currently looking at where the hills that would eventually go on to become the hills King's Landing was built around. I can see why Aegon went for them. They had a rather commanding position on the mouth of the Blackwater and the only ford nearby that one could effectively use to cross a large amount of men, like say an army, within a reasonable enough of a time.

The only other ford capable of that sort of transport was the one near Tumbler's Falls, but that particular town was well defended and was something I was going to have to make sure it went from well defended to a bitch of a pain to take, therefore one shouldn't even bother. There were a couple other fords, smaller and less likely to be used to move armies, but still be able to use to move raiding parties.

Now that I think about it, I should probably set up watch towers near those fords, along with making sure they were connected to a semaphore network. I pointed to the tallest one. "I want a fort built on that big hill right there. It doesn't have to be fancy, just simple enough that it can hold this position. We'll expand on it as we move along."

Ser Franklin looked towards the hill and his eyes looked unsure for a moment. "Argillac might not like that."

"I know." I admitted as I saw a detachment of men ride towards the hill, along with several wagons that we had brought with us that contained the building material and equipment for said fort. "But it just so happens that the hills are on my side of the border. I can do with those hills as much as I want." Was this course of action stupid? Very much so, but if something worked, it wasn't particularly stupid in the first place. "At some point, I intent to build forts on the other two hills, and maybe one just opposite this very ford."

Ser Franklin, if he could, would be shaking his head at what I was saying, but he was being polite. I liked this Frey, still made it rather difficult to understand how the fuck the Walder Frey came into being with genes as good as Franklin's circling somewhere in there.

"This might invite war," He said and I would very much agree with him and I was about say something but he continued speaking. "But Argillac has just returned from a war abroad with less men than he had gone with. Those very same men have fields to tend and harvests to work at. He'd be a fool to go into another war so soon."

I nodded as I agreed with him, I was playing a very risky here. But what was risk without reward? Better control of my southern borders was the sort of reward that I think was probably worth it.

"Let's hope he's not as arrogant as people say. His arrogance might very well rule over his good sense."

"So what bit of madness convinced you to take this action, Your Grace, if not arrogance?"

I was quiet for a moment as I pondered on the question. "Hm, I'd like to say that it was an odd mixture of good and bad sense. At the end of the day, we'll only be able to find out when he makes his appearance and we have our little talk." I looked past the fast-flowing Blackwater and into lands that were considered part of the Stormlands. And it wasn't as if there was a treaty or anything of the likes that stopped me from doing what I was just doing. It just so happened the area around our borders along the rush were somewhat considered to be No Man's Land, with various raids and half been thrown across them by one lord or another. "Now where is that bastard. We agreed to meet on this particular day and time, yes?"

Ser Franklin pulled something out of a sack that was tied around his horse's neck. It was a perfect circle with a simple stick placed in the centre. A sun dial, a rather simple invention that I introduced to Westeros that gave us a more accurate measure of time, and a safer way as well, without having to fear blinding yourself from looking up into the sky to check the time.

Kinda useless during night-time, but that was something that could easily be lived with.

"The agreed time was noon." The heir to the Twins announced as he held out the dial and look at the position of the shadow the sun cast upon the small device. "And it's near enough to noon. It seemed we were early."

"Well, I suppose they don't have the benefit of a portable watch do they?" Ser Franklin didn't even bother to question me on what a watch was. "Well, I guess he deserves the benefit of the doubt this one time."

So we waited, me, Ser Franklin Frey and the company of men that had come with me as a protective detail for this particular meeting of kings. Of course, we made sure to blatantly have the Seven-coloured flag out for all to see so that no manner of misunderstandings could happen.

We didn't have to wait long after the agreed time. I think several minutes after the sun reached the apex of its journey across the sky, we saw movement coming from the other side of the river, a column of mounted men, making their way towards us.

I took out the telescope or far-eye in the local terminology and looked towards the column. Now let's see who it was. I trained my far eye to the lead of the column were I immediately recognised the black crowned stag on a field of gold of the Durrandons.

Now that I think about it, since the Tullys were now a royal house, did that mean a crown had to be added to our own sigil? I mean, that was kind of a stupid image, a fish with a crown.

The Durrandon heraldry wasn't the only one that I saw, there were others, but I couldn't recognise them. I didn't particularly care for them, since as far I cared, the Durrandon coat of arms was the most important. It was the most important since I went through all this trouble to just meet this one guy.

I hope Argillac won't be one to disappoint me.

He didn't.

Argillac was fucking massive. He was wider than me, heft with nothing more than muscles and taller as well. I think he was the tallest person I had come across in Westeros, then I remembered that most of the Baratheons happened to be rather tall bastard.

Wasn't Bobby B like six foot something and pretty much superhuman in canon before everything went to shit?

What did these Baratheons or more specifically for this particular moment in time, Durrandons eat? I hoped I could have children that tall.

I blinked as I tilted my head slightly to look up at the older man. "I admit, you're much taller than I thought you would be." I was trying so very hard not to feel so utterly small and threatened by the massive man in front of me.

It also didn't hurt that this guy might as well be nearly as old as my grandfather.

Argillac grinned widely as he looked down at me, arms crossed across his broad chest. "And you're just about as small as I thought you would be."

I'd say that was an insult, but the guy probably had me by several inches and a hundred pounds, so that was less an insult and more along the lines of an accurate assessment. "I'm sure everyone is small to you, King Argillac." I realised I need to hit the gym more and get some mad gains. This just wouldn't do.

He burst out into a loud laughter than sounded like the rumbling of distant thunder, except that it was right in front of me. I honestly swear that his laughter was loud enough to drown out the flowing river that we happened to be in the middle off.

My fellow king leaned forward slightly, resting a hand on the back of his horse. "So tell me, did you make Harren scream before you took his head?"

"No. That's a bit too much blood for my liking." I admitted with an easy shrug of the shoulders. Would that be an admission of weakness? If it was, I needed to show I was strong then. "But then again, for the better part until his execution, he spent most of his time naked like the day he was born, with a sock stuffed into his mouth. A sock that I had worn for several days with the express intention to stuff it into his mouth."

That rumbling thunder like laughter came again. "Oh that's good, if it had been me, I'd have had him drawn and quartered. The screams would have been lovely don't you think?"

Drawn and quartered? I've heard of the term, but I don't think I've ever actually seen a visual representation of it or read anything about it. Was it the one where you were ripped apart by horses? That seemed a bit... messy.

"Father."

If I didn't know any better, the imposing Argillac looked somewhat sheepish at the voice that had called out to him from the retinue of six knights that had come with him to meet me. "Where are my manners? Child, come forth." He ordered with a lazy wavy of the hand forward.

From the pack of six knights that had come with him, one broke from the ranks and made their way forward before coming to make a stop beside his king. Then the knight removed his helmet and I realised it was less a him and more of a her.

I took in the black haired, blue eyed female that was beside Argillac and I would admit, she was hot. I raised an eyebrow. "And you must be Princess Argella." I inclined my head slightly in greeting. "A pleasure to meet you."

Her stormy blue eyes studied me without the slightest flicker of emotion then she spoke. "A woman in man's armour doesn't startle you?" Too everyones not surprise, her voice was far more gentle and quieter than that of her kingly father, yet still had an undertone of steely authority to it, just lurking underneath the surface.

I suppose one had to have such a tone of authority if their father was one Argillac the Arrogant.

My shoulders had automatically shrugged before I had even known what they had done. "Not really. These eyes of mine have seen stranger things. A woman in armour might as well be just another day at the office for me."

My use of a word she had never come across before didn't even net me a point. Netted me a point with her father though. "Office? What are you blathering about boy?"

Okay, time to assert myself a little here. Hopefully, that wouldn't set him off. "I know I'm younger than you, Your Grace, but just like you, I happen to be a king and I'd prefer it if you would treat me with the same respect I am showing you as well."

His eyes locked with mine, narrowing so slightly as a storm brewed behind them. Or perhaps a storm had always been brewing inside them and I was just noticing this now?

Behind me, I could essentially hear the uneasiness that had come over my knights as me and Argillac entered a sort of clash of wills, if you would have it like that. Unlike my knights though, Argillac's didn't even seem prepared to rush in to help their king.

Then again, Argillac was a beast who could probably render me and the knights all by himself, so they probably felt if anything was going to happen, Argie-boy here would have it all in hand.

Then that thunder like laughing came once more. "You have some balls, Your Grace. I suppose you have to have some to take on Harren the way I hear you did."

"Balls of steel."

That caught him and his daughter for once, off-guard. "What?" They both said at the same time.

"Balls of steel. I have balls of steel. Not your average every day iron or bronze." Lies, blatant lies, but I was going to ride this for all it was worth until I fell off it.

Once again, the thunder came back before a toothy grin that reminded me somewhat of the Cheshire cat was cast in my direction. "Right then, I suppose we should have a little chat, amongst us kings, yes?"

"I'd like that very much, Your Grace."