Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blackmont.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t go there?” Joran asked with grim tone, staring at the coarse surface of the table. “No, I think we should go there, but we should start to think where will we go next, if we don’t find Kortney from Blackmont.” Myke’s tone was sullen, and he took a deep gulp from his ale. For a moment Joran stayed silent.
“Do you think we have any chance of finding her?” He finally asked with slightly defeated tone, and Myke let out a deep sigh. “The chances were never big.” He admitted quietly, thinking about all his fond memories with Kortney, from years ago, telling her stories about Essos, watching her curious eyes widen as the story reached an exciting moment. “But we have to try, we just have to.” His voice was bitter and decisive at the same time, and Joran nodded in agreement, a stern look on his face.
For a while the knights sat in silence by their table, until someone arrived to them. A lean man on his thirties, with stubble beard, long brown hair and plain clothing approached them with uncertain steps. Myke and Joran turned their gaze to this man who now stood next to their table.
“Good evening.” The man said with a friendly tone. “For you too, friend.” Myke replied with placid tone, and the man grabbed a chair to sit at the head of the table. “My name is Walter, Walter Oakley.” He introduced himself. “I’m a travelling merchant, been living here with my wife and sister the past few months.” Walter pointed towards his table at the corner, where two women sat in silence.
“Well, I’m Ser Myke, and my friend here is Ser Joran Storm, we come from Nightsong.” Myke explained politely, though his voice was slightly tired. Walter nodded, glancing at Myke and Joran with great interest. “You brought that deserter here earlier today, right?” He asked, his voice a bit more serious now.
“We did.” Joran grunted. “He is a criminal and deserves to be hanged.” Walter gave Joran an agreeing nod. “I agree, good ser. But I can tell you that tomorrow might get bloody, this town has gone to hell during these past few weeks.” The merchant let out a sigh. “I assume you are not planning to stay here?”
“No, we aren’t.” Myke answered casually. “We will be on our way tomorrow.” He said, and Walter nodded to him with a smile. “Good.” He said with a touch of relief on his words. “There is something I’d like to ask.” The man’s tone was uncertain, and Myke raised an eyebrow.
“Go ahead.” He said quietly, looking the merchant to the eye, and he nodded to him. “You see, we have been planning to travel away from here, perhaps to Starfall, I’m not sure. But anyway, the problem is that the road is at the moment simply too dangerous for us to travel without protection. I like to think that I can defend myself, but I also have Autumn and Quinn to look after.”
“You want us to protect you?” Joran asked with bored tone, and Walter nodded with a gulp. “Sure, do you have horses?” Joran asked, and the merchant nodded nervously.
“We have one.” Walter said and scratched his head. “An old carthorse, not the fastest, but he is a tough one.” Joran sighed, but gave the merchant a small nod. “Fine, we’ll escort you, but only to Blackmont. From there you have to travel without us.” He spoke lazily, twiddling the mug on his hand.
“Thank you, thank you very much sers.” Walter spoke with a relieved tone, and Myke nodded to him. “We’ll leave in the morning, be ready.” He said, and stood up from table. Walter agreed and thanked them once more, and after that Myke made his way to his room.
-
When Myke arrived to the taproom in the morning, Raina, Joran and Walter with his sister and wife were already waiting for him. Quinn, Walter’s younger sister, was a stern looking woman on her late twenties, with the same brown hair as her brother and a distinctive scar on her throat. Walter’s wife, Autumn, was a pretty one, around the same age as Quinn, a timid look on her blue eyes.
“Finally.” Joran grunted, looking at Myke. “Are we leaving already?” Myke asked with a tired tone. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“You can eat on the road, old man.” Quinn said with sharp tone, and Myke narrowed his eyes. “I guess so.” He muttered quietly, and so they made their way out of the tavern. As they stepped outside, they heard the bells of the sept ringing.
“The execution.” Raina stated with emotionless tone. “Perhaps we should find a street that doesn’t go through the town square.” She suggested, but Joran shook his head.
“No.” He said coldly. “I think I want to see the bastard hang.” Myke let out a sigh, but didn’t protest, so they kept walking towards the square. Soon they started to hear the shouting, the whistling and the booing. “As I said yesterday, things might get bloody.” Walter spoke with nervous tone, but Joran just chuckled.
“They are just a bunch of angry peasants.” He said dismissingly, and Myke noticed Quinn frowning. “They’ll shout and shake their fists, and if they try anything more they’ll be put to the sword.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Myke said sternly, and the group kept walking in silence. When they arrived to the town square they could see the platform on the other side, and dozens of guards in front of it. On the platform stood Septon Kevan and Commander Brennin Kell, and of course the shackled deserter named Brack. The town square itself was packed with people, and Myke could easily see that surprisingly many of them had armed themselves with knives or rusty old hatchets and hammers. This doesn’t look good.
The group made their way closer to the platform, while the people around them were keeping their noise. “Free him!” Someone shouted. “You fucking pigs!” Myke heard a woman’s voice screaming. It was hot, people were pushing each other, trying to get closer to the platform. Some of them were furious, others looked nervous, others outright frightened.
As Myke’s group got close enough, they could see Seban, Alan and the other guards standing in a line with their spears, keeping the people away from the platform.
“As do we sin, so do we suffer!” Shouted Septon Kevan with zealous tone, his voice hardly audible amidst all the noise. The commander put the noose around Brack’s neck, which made the crowd somewhat more quiet.
“This man has committed a terrible crime.” Kevan said, pointing towards Brack, causing an angry murmur in the crowd. “He is not your friend, he is a wolf, preying on the innocent. He is a deserter, a murderer, a sinner.” For a moment silence lingered on the air, and Myke noticed Kevan gulping as he turned towards Commander Brennin. “Hang him.” The septon commanded, and people started shouting again.
“Mercy!” Myke heard someone plead. “You are the only murderers here!” Shouted an old man right next to them.
With a grim and defeated expression on his face the deserter stood on the chair, noose on his neck. Commander Brennin didn’t hesitate, he kicked the chair under Brack’s feet, and soon the deserter’s body dangled in the air. The whole crowd gasped in shock. Life disappeared from Brack’s eyes.
“Karsan Taller!” Someone shouted a battle cry in the haunting silence, raising his hatchet in the air, and rushing towards the line of guards. “Oh shit.” Myke heard Joran mutter just before the situation turned into chaos. People started running to different directions – some away from the square, and others towards the platform with their weapons. Joran and Raina took out their swords, and Myke his dagger.
“Get somewhere safe, we’ll find you later!” Myke shouted to Walter, Quinn and Autumn, who followed his command with no objections. As Myke turned around he saw Joran already rushing towards the platform, where the guards were doing their best to keep the troublemakers away. The commander had taken out his bastard sword on the platform, and stood in guard of the septon.
“I guess we better help them.” Raina said with a touch of nervousness in her words, and Myke gave her a small nod. And so they rushed into the fight.
Myke pulled people away from the guards, smacking them to the ground. Most of them crawled away, but some tried to put up a fight. Myke was perhaps old, but he still had enough of his strength left to make sure none of these rioters managed to touch him. He saw that Raina had a bit more problems. She tried to strike the rioters so that she didn’t cut them with her sword, but it was such a small space where she had to make her moves that some of them got dangerously close to her. One of them, a tall man with long and greasy hair got too close to Raina, and was about to slice her with his knife, but Myke managed to sneak up to him. In the heat of the moment he plunged his dagger into the abdomen of the man. The rioter screamed in agony, and pulled Myke down with him as he fell to the ground. Myke pulled his dagger out, and turned to see that Raina was already fighting against another man, a bald man with fat belly. She hit him to the forehead with the pommel of her sword, making him take a couple steps back and falling to a spear of one of the guards.
Myke tried to scramble up from the stony ground, when he saw a sturdy young man running towards him with fury in his green eyes, shaking the hammer in his hand. Myke reached for his dagger, but his position couldn’t have been worse. Raina noticed the situation, but too late. She tried to catch the man with the hammer, but she couldn’t. Myke tried to parry the swing of the hammer with his hand, but he failed. It hit him straight to the forehead, immediately sending him to the ground. First the voices disappeared, the screams, the sounds of the fighting – he heard nothing. Then the world started to turn fuzzy in his eyes. The last thing he saw was Raina’s sword impaling the man with the hammer.
Sorry for taking this long, I had a couple of surprising occurrences this weekend that took my time, plus this was a bit longer part than usually. And also sorry for a second no-choices part in a row, but I'm sure you understand the reason XD
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
Well, that was a great part! Certainly worth the wait I'm a bit worried for Myke though, especially with this being his last part in the chapter. I can't say this will lead out to be that good for him, considering the numbers of smallfolk compared to the guards, commander and septon. Here's hopes that I'm wrong.
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
Oh man, Myke I mean, I'm sure he's not going to die here, but still, this is bad, this is really bad. It seems they chose a horrible time to travel to the Blackmont lands. I also remember that this name that had been shouted by the peasants, Karsan Taller, has previously been mentioned by Maester Mortin in Gwendis' latest part. I guess this guy's going to be a pretty big villain for the Blackmont storylines, for Myke and probably for Naemon in particular. Yet another reason to be happy that Gwendis is getting the hell out of there. As for the part itself, my suspicions against the Septon seems to have been unfounded. I was almost sure it would be that way, since there was no real reason to distrust him in the first place, but now that the danger didn't come from him but from the peasants, I think I've been proven wrong. Still, I hope Myke's not going to be wounded too badly.
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
I said to sleep in the mansion, but I think only one other person agreed with me. If they slept in the mansion, they probably would not be in this predicament.
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
The part definitely would've been different with choosing the mansion. They would've actually been on the platform when the riot had begun, which obviously would've been a safer place than in the middle of the crowd.
I said to sleep in the mansion, but I think only one other person agreed with me. If they slept in the mansion, they probably would not be in this predicament.
Well, I'd make the same choice, but was a bit late for voting. Anyways - I'm surprised that mansion option was so unpopular, I thought it'd be clear voting in its favor.
I said to sleep in the mansion, but I think only one other person agreed with me. If they slept in the mansion, they probably would not be in this predicament.
Well, I'd make the same choice, but was a bit late for voting. Anyways - I'm surprised that mansion option was so unpopular, I thought it'd be clear voting in its favor.
I said to sleep in the mansion, but I think only one other person agreed with me. If they slept in the mansion, they probably would not be in this predicament.
Wow, now this I was certainly not expecting. What on the surface seemed like a minor choice was actually a pretty big choice for Myke's storyline. It seems as if voting for Myke to stay in the mansion would have spared him from being right in the thick of the fighting where literally anything can happen. With that said, this was a great part! It shows that this Karsan Taller is a serious threat and it will be interesting to see how Benedict and House Blackmont are able to combat a very dangerous threat like a peasant uprising which is coming at a very awful time for them. When it comes to Myke, I would imagine he will be alright and the guards will hopefully defeat the peasants but getting it right in the head with a hammer is obviously not good and hopefully Myke will recover quickly so he can continue his mission.
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone… more to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blac… [view original content]
Once again no voting to close, but I just wanted to inform that the next part will most likely be ready today! And this one should even have a decision to make
It's a Jamison PoV, his last in this chapter - we are really getting close to the end Anyway, I trust his storyline is pretty fresh on everyone's mind, but small reminder: he is in Hellgate Hall, negotiating with King Lucifer Dryland about an alliance against the Martells. He offered financial support, asking Clearhaven (port town from southern coast) to be given to Daynes, but Lucifer demanded military support or the negotiations are over. You voted for Jamison to call Lucifer's bluff.
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even harder.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As he said this Jamison could see the King of Brimstone boiling with anger, clenching his fists and staring at him with fury.
“What are you implying Prince Jamison?” Lord Harrion Uller asked sternly, stony expression on his wrinkled face, and for a moment the hall was filled with tense silence. “He means that this Kingdom stands upon the edge of a knife, one wrong move and it is history.” Ser Rolan Nightfall broke the silence with cold but calm words. “No heir, surrounded by enemies, and a king too stubborn to grasp for the help when it is offered to him.” Lucifer closed his eyes in frustration, but Lord Tiddle let out a small laugh.
“Your concern for the Kingdom of Brimstone is completely unfounded.” Bedwyck stated with arrogant tone, making Jamison roll his eyes. “But perhaps it would be better, for both kingdoms, to be allies rather than enemies.” As Lord Tiddle said this, he turned subtly towards his king, who finally opened his eyes again. Lucifer took in a couple of breaths, gazing at the surface of the table in front of him.
“Perhaps I have been too… rash, with my statements.” Lucifer spoke up with a stern look on his eyes. “But I’m sure you understand that what you are asking for is no small thing. Giving away trade port like Clearhaven means that I’m expecting much from this financial support of yours.” Jamison nodded to the King’s words, a small smirk on his face. “Of course, Your Grace.” He said quietly, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “And I’m still not sure if I can even trust your word, Sword of the Night.” The King spoke quietly, eyeing Jamison with suspicion.
“You don’t have to trust me, Your Grace.” Jamison replied with a smirk. “I am only here to speak for my father, if it were for me I’d find another way to take Clearhaven back.” Jamison could see the anger flashing through the face of Lucifer. “Well then, I guess we’ll stay for one night and then head back towards Starfall.” Jamison spoke with a touch of relief, feeling thankful that this mission seemed to be a success. He knew his father would be proud, he knew this would raise him to a higher status.
“No.” The King said coldly, raising his chin, and looking Jamison to the eye. “If you want this alliance to happen, I have one more demand for you.” Jamison furrowed his eyebrows, but gave the King a nod. “Alright then, spit it out.” He said lazily.
“The most useful thing about this alliance of ours, to me at least, is that now those who side with the Martells won’t be opposing just one but two great kings. Being the enemy of both Lucifer Dryland and Vorian Dayne is certainly a terrifying scenario for anyone.” Lucifer tapped the table with his fingers as he spoke. “But they need to hear that from a Dayne, not from me.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Jamison asked, raising his eyebrow. “Simple, I want you and your men to meet some lords who might still be considering what sides to take.” Lucifer replied with a small smirk on his face. “The Gargalens shouldn’t be hard to convince, but the Vaiths might be sympathizing the Martells. That doesn’t matter though, because as long as the Allyrions side with me, the Vaiths won’t dare to oppose them.”
“So you need me to secure the Salt Shore, Vaith and Godsgrace for you.” Jamison stated with tired tone. “Precisely.” Lucifer replied sharply. “If you want Clearhaven, you will kneel to me and work in my service until this war is over, meaning you will convince these petty lords to do the same.”
Jamison turned to look at Ser Laroy Ladybright, who sighed but gave him a nod. “So be it then.” Jamison said coldly, and a grin was formed on Lucifer’s face. “So be it.” Jamison repeated with a sigh. “I’ll go do your bidding, King Lucifer, but you better remember to keep your end of the deal.”
“Oh, of course, my Prince.” The King said with a mocking tone. “And your father better do the same, because Clearhaven won’t be handed over to you until I’ve got that financial support.”
“Sure.” Jamison muttered with grim tone. “And where is it that you want me to go, Your Grace?” He asked this with a small touch of mockery in his words, which Lucifer seemed to spot as he frowned at him.
“I need you to go to Godsgrace and Salt Shore.” He answered sternly. “Gargalens hold the Salt Shore, and it would be dangerous if they’d let the Martells sail there without resistance. And Godsgrace is the center of trade in the lands between here and the eastern coast, so the support of the Allyrions is also important.”
“I can’t be in two places at the same time though.” Jamison remarked with a chuckle. “And this war will begin soon, I might not make it to both those places before they have chosen their sides.”
“Then send one of your men to the other place, I don’t care, as long as he represents the Daynes.” Lucifer spoke with a bored tone, and Jamison let out a sigh. He wouldn’t be going home, not yet, the mission was still unfinished. So, where next?
“I can be the one to represent the Daynes on the other location.” Rolan Nightfall said with a dutiful tone, and Jamison gave him a small nod. Then he let out a sigh and nodded again – he had made his decision.
Man, Jamison had balls the size of Essos in this part Calling Lucifer Dryland not only out on his bullshit, but also by his first name, that is pretty damn badass. And as expected, he was bluffing. Glad to see something worked out in this case. As for the choice, I have chosen Godsgrace particularly because of the information Lucifer revealed. If House Allyrion sides with him, House Vaith won't dare to oppose him either, meaning the support of two houses instead of one. I'm not entirely sure where my sympathies during this war should lie, since Lucifer is a major jerk, but since I like Jamison, I'd say my sympathies lie with him. Sort of, at least.
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
I think it would be a bad idea for them to let the Martell's have access to the ports there. Plus, it was implied that Jamison could probably easily convince the Gargalens to join his side.
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
All three of my houses are coming up soon... Man. Well, being biased I'm going with Saltshore, considering they are on the sea, they have ships. The Martell's no longer have ships, as far as I'm aware. I think a naval advantage would certainly be of use, if they wished to lay siege on Sandship by the sea, there would be nothing to stand in their way but burnt wrecks.
At any rate, this part was great! Jamison shows his badass, but I think his attitude will get him in trouble some time soon. He may have been able to take on Lucifer's bluff, but I fear if he were to pull off the same stunt with the Yronwood's, he might lose his head.
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
[Godsgrace] Well it is safe to say that this is yet another excellent part and a great continuation to their negotiation Jamison and Lucifer both have very dominant personalities and it was pretty fun to see them clash! It seemed that it was almost shocking to Lucifer that he encountered someone who can be just as hard to deal with as he is at times
When it comes to the choice, The other readers have given excellent reasons for choosing their choices on both sides but I am thinking that Jamison going to Godsgrace would be a pretty good choice here. It would potentially win the support of two houses instead of one. It is also mentioned the Salt Shore would probably be easier to convince so Ser Rolan could probably take care of turning the Gargalens into allies and going to Godsgrace could also potentially stop trade to the eastern coast.
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even hard… moreer.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As h… [view original content]
Jamison will travel to Godsgrace, and meet House Allyrion. So, that's one thing to look forward to in the next chapter With his negotiation with King Lucifer, Jamison has shown some real potential in politics, we'll see if his success continues in Chapter 2.
Anyway, we'll continue with the last part of Dianna in this chapter. Just a quick recap: She traveled to Lemonwood with Javor and ~30 other Martell soldiers, escorting Adian Dalt (nephew of Lord Darin) to home. The main reason they came there was to help the Dalts with the problems they are having with bandits on their lands. It has become clear that these are not just some random bandits, but well organized and led by Efran Sand aka the Bandit Lord, who has a claim on Lemonwood. Lord Darin wanted Dianna and her soldiers to investigate the town, to possibly find links to Efran, or at least new information. However, he expressed his doubt that "a bunch of women" could be trusted with such an important mission. You voted for Dianna to give him a rude answer for that.
Could be ready today, perhaps more likely tomorrow.
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warriors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar first arrived, but I can assure you that these women know what they are doing – and Dianna here is a warrior to the core.” Dianna glanced towards Javor, seeing a happy grin on his face. Darin also flashed a small smile, though it didn’t look as genuine.
“Alright then.” He said, still a touch of doubt in his words. “I will trust you with this mission. Go and find me some answers.”
-
Dianna walked down the main street of Lemonwood, with Javor and two young soldiers, a Rhoynar girl named Lesyra and boy named Gerrar from Prince Mors’ guard.
“You were quite merciless with Lord Darin.” Javor stated calmly, a small smile on his face, and Dianna shrugged. “That’s what you get for asking dumb questions.” She grunted, glancing at the alleyways that diverged from the main street.
“I don’t think he meant to insult you, or anyone for that matter.” Javor replied, keeping his voice calm. Dianna however ignored him, looking at a brothel she could see at the end of one of the alleys. “Javor, you go there with Gerrar.” She commanded with decisive tone, pointing at the brothel. Javor let out a small chuckle, and Dianna could see the eyes of the young and lanky man widening in excitement. “You are going there to ask questions, not to fuck whores.” She hissed with a cold look on her brown eyes, and Gerrar tensed up, giving her a nervous nod.
“Of course.” Javor said with a sly smile on his face, and Dianna didn’t even want to think what he had in mind. “So, where will you and Lesyra go?” He asked casually.
“We’ll make our way to the harbors.” She answered calmly. “These two places should be full of stories and rumors about this Bandit Lord – let’s just hope we’ll find something useful.” Dianna spoke with firm tone, eyeing at Javor, Gerrar and Lesyra.
“See ya later!” Javor quipped gleefully, walking towards the alleyway, Gerrar following him with quick steps. Dianna let out a sigh and turned to Lesyra. Lesyra was a short girl at her late teens, a constantly stern and nervous look on her green eyes, and her black hair tied to a bun. Dianna didn’t know her very well; she had only had couple brief conversations with her in the past, but the image she had given was that she was a dutiful girl if anything.
“Alright then, let’s go to the harbors.” Dianna said softly, and the young girl gave her a small bow. “Yes, captain.” Lesyra answered with tensed up tone, and they kept walking. Dianna had sent other soldiers to investigate other places from the town, but she was a bit skeptical that they would find anything of interest.
In silence the two women made their way to the harbors, where people were selling their goods from the stalls, while almost a dozen of merchant ships stood anchored at the sea. Some of them seemed a bit damaged, most likely because of the earlier storm.
Dianna’s eyes traveled from a foreign looking fat man who was selling silks and carpets, to an old woman who was selling pots and jars, to a young man selling weaponry. “Who do you think we should go to first?” Dianna asked casually, looking at Lesyra who looked surprised that her opinion was being asked.
“I… I would go to the man selling the weapons.” She said with a bit of uncertainty in her words, and Dianna smirked. “Because he is young and handsome?” Dianna asked jokingly, which made Lesyra blush. “N-no, because, um, because…” She stuttered, but Dianna cut her off.
“I was only joking.” She said gently. “Let’s go to him, he might be someone who is interested in the Bandit Lord and this whole conflict. He does sell weapons after all.” Lesyra nodded nervously to Dianna’s words, and they made their way to the stall of this young man. Many daggers were on display, castle forged steel, some of them ornamented lavishly with gold. There were also couple short swords, and an axe. The man had a trimmed full beard and a short dark hair. His eyes were brown and he stood well over six feet tall, a stern look on his well-structured face.
“Hello, ladies.” The man said with his calm voice, which sounded somewhat hollow and cold to Dianna. Lesyra clearly didn’t notice anything like that, as her eyes were widened in adoring. “Looking for some new weapons?”
“Actually we just want to ask something.” Dianna replied, studying the face of the man. She could see the slight disappointment in his eyes. “The Lord sent you?” He asked quietly.
“We are sent here by Princess Nymeria, to solve a problem.” Dianna answered calmly, keeping an emotionless look on her eyes. “Oh, and this problem is Efran, right?” The man let out a sigh as he asked this. Dianna raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what could this man’s opinion of the Bastard’s Bastard be.
“Yes.” She said quietly. “Do you know anything about him?” The weapon merchant let out a joyless chuckle for Dianna’s question. “Everyone does.” He answered coldly. “A bastard raised by the pirates, lives in an abandoned fort in the desert, dyes his hair blue and has an eyepatch. His men raid villages and small towns.”
“And have you ever seen him or his men?” Dianna asked, though she could see the man wasn’t very keen on continuing this conversation. “No, I haven’t.” He answered strictly. “And now, move along, there are some actual customers coming.” Dianna glanced behind her back and saw a middle-aged man dressed in fine clothes walking towards the stall. She gave the man a stern nod and turned away, gesturing Lysera to do the same.
“Well he didn’t have much to offer.” Dianna muttered as they walked away, looking at the other stalls. “At least now we know how does the Bandit Lord look like.” Lysera said shyly, and Dianna gave her a nod. “Perhaps, or perhaps it was just bullshit. He even admitted himself that he has never actually seen Efran.” Dianna’s words were grim, and the look on Lysera’s eyes changed to somewhat disappointed.
“Let’s go to someone else.” Dianna said, trying to sound a bit more cheerful. “Let’s see, there’s a man selling fish and oysters. That one sells fruits, and next to him…” Next to the fruit stall was sitting an old man with a wooden platter in front of him, and nothing else.
“He is probably some kind of beggar.” Lysera observed quietly. “I wonder why the man selling fruits hasn’t shooed him off.” Dianna spoke with pondering tone. “Let’s go take a closer look.” They walked closer to the fruit stall, and both the man selling the fruits and the old beggar on the ground turned their eyes to them. The man selling the fruits looked at them like any merchant excited to sell their goods, but the old man sitting on the ground was different – his look was genuinely interested. He eyed at Dianna and Lysera like he was seeing something different from the ordinary.
“What would you like to buy?” The fruit merchant asked with a wide grin, and Dianna tossed him a copper. “I’d like a blood orange.” She said calmly, and the merchant handed one to her with a nod. “There you go.” He said with a friendly tone.
“Do either of you happen to know anything about the Bandit Lord?” Dianna asked casually, peeling the blood orange. The atmosphere changed notably, the look on the fruit merchant’s face was now visibly uncomfortable, whilst the beggar turned even more interested.
“Oh, I know the basics.” The fruit merchant muttered awkwardly, and Dianna turned her look to the beggar. “And you?” She asked, which brought a wide grin on the old beggar’s face. He was clearly at least on his seventies, with tanned and wrinkled skin, bald head and dressed in ragged clothes – though he seemed somehow a bit cleaner than an ordinary beggar. Perhaps that’s why the fruit merchant lets him stay there.
“I know many stories about Efran Sand.” The beggar said with a gentle smile. “And is there any true to these stories?” Dianna asked, narrowing her eyes. “Who are you even? And how do you know these stories?”
“You have a lot of questions, young woman.” The old man answered with a soft chuckle. “My name is Hors, and I am a storyteller.” He explained. “Mostly I tell my stories to children, but toss a couple coppers and I can tell something for you too.” Dianna shook her head for Hors’ words.
“I am looking for information, true information, not fairytales.” She spoke strictly, and Hors nodded to her. “Often the truth is more exciting than the fairytales.” He stated calmly. “I can’t promise you that all the stories I’ve heard of him are true, but they certainly aren’t fairytales either.” Dianna let out a sigh, and sat opposed to the beggar, tossing three coppers to his wooden platter. Hors smiled to them, as Lysera also sat down.
“I assume you know the story of Jaxar Sand and his rebellion.” Hors started, and Dianna nodded to him. “On the day that the father of Lord Darin and Jaxar allegedly legalized his bastard son, Jaxar, on his deathbed there were three men to bear witness to it. Jaxar himself, Maester Edgar and Ser Byrron Granit. When Jaxar’s rebellion begun, the first of these three to fall was the maester. No one knows the truth, but rumors say that he was poisoned by the supporters of Darin. In the last battle of the war fell Jaxar himself, but for a while no one knew where had Ser Byrron disappeared. That changed when the news arrived to Lemonwood that Byrron had traveled to Stepstones, the son of Jaxar with him.” Hors took a breath in, staying silent for a moment.
“And?” Dianna rushed him, which made the beggar smile. “And then Efran Sand grew up amongst the pirates, Ser Byrron always on his side.” He said. “I have many stories from that time, but I expect that is not what you are here for. As you know, a while ago Efran returned to Dorne, to the lands of Lemonwood. He begun to make reputation, being called Bandit Lord or the Bastard’s Bastard. But how does he do all this?” Hors gazed from Lysera to Dianna as he asked this, and Dianna gave him a shrug.
“He has Ser Byrron to thank for it.” He answered his own question smoothly. “Byrron is the one who knows these lands, and some say that without Byrron Efran would’ve never even been interested in finishing what his father started. Ser Byrron comes from House Granit, and their small fort, known as Desertstone, is south and west from here, middle of the desert next to a small oasis. Ser Byrron would never be welcomed there, his old family supports Lord Darin. But Desertstone was never the only stronghold of the Granits, and Ser Byrron if anyone knows this. They have seven small strongholds on their lands, most of them long abandoned – small towers and such.”
“And you are saying that Efran Sand’s hideout is in one of these strongholds?” Dianna asked, her voice now genuinely interested. “There are rumors, yes.” Hors said. “They say the men of the Bastard’s Bastard ride on those lands, steal and murder at night, while their leader sits at one of those abandoned towers.”
“Better not believe everything he says.” An old male voice said behind them. They all turned to look, and saw a frail old man with a long white beard and hair, and a vivid look on his turquoise eyes. The old man was wearing scuffed old clothes – dark green trousers, leather sandals and washed-out blue tunic. Dianna glanced at Hors, who seemed amazed at the sight of this man who had to be at least ninety years old.
“And who are you?” Dianna asked with confused tone, and the man let out a small chuckle. “Oh, no one important, my dear.” He said, and his voice was surprisingly powerful for his age. “Just a wanderer named Wylie, who happened to hear your little conversation.”
“You… You said not to believe everything he says.” Lysera spoke shyly, and Wylie smiled at her. “I did, but I don’t mean that as an insult. He is a storyteller, the more exciting the story, the better for him.” Wylie took a couple steps closer to them as he spoke. “I don’t know much about Efran Sand, but I have lived long, seen many rebellions, and known many men like this Bandit Lord.”
“So, what are you saying?” Dianna’s tone was skeptical; she wasn’t sure what to make of this old man. “I am saying that this Efran is a pirate – as are most of his followers. He wouldn’t crawl to some small tower in the middle of the desert, he would stay at the coast, where the sea is always close to him.” There was something dreamy in those last words, and a soft smile took over Wylie’s face.
“He could be right.” Hors admitted with gentle tone. “But I have heard rumors of them being at the lands of the Granits, and there is always at least a piece of truth to every rumor.” Dianna let out a sigh – soon she would have to go look for Efran Sand. But will I find him from the desert or the coast?
“Hey!” Dianna now heard a familiar voice calling, and they could see Javor and Gerrar walking towards them, looking slightly baffled at the sight. “What did you learn?” Dianna asked strictly, and Javor let out a sigh.
“Hardly anything useful.” He said tiredly. “Some say his left eye is covered, others say it’s the right one. Some say he is deformed and ugly, others say he is the most handsome man in Dorne. Some say that House Granit hides him in their castle, others say he has no stronghold because he always stays on the move.” Javor spoke with monotone words. “And you – did you learn anything?” He asked, and Dianna bridled. “Hardly.” She replied coldly.
[Search the lands of House Granit][Search the coast]
I'm gonna side with Wylie here, just because of reasons. Though I certainly think he brings up a grand point. If Efran's crew are mostly pirates, they belong to the sea, or at least to the coast. Perhaps the Granit's would know more, but as far as I can see it would only appear we would search the lands of House Granit, rather than speak with them. Anyway, it all seems like a wild goose chase to me, but I'm gonna stick with this one.
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Hehe, it was great how Dianna roasted Darin for his comment. I'm really liking her, so far she is my favourite in the eastern storyline And I must say, this Efran Sand sounds more intriguing with every new thing we learn about him. A blue-haired, one-eyed bandit lord living in the middle of the desert, that is certainly cool. I am greatly looking forward for the time where we actually get to meet him. After the build-up, you made me hyped for that guy!
[Search the lands of House Granit]
While Wylie has brought up a good point, I think Hors mentioned another strong argument. This Byrron Granit, he's the key to Efran's knowledge of these lands and he would probably rather reside in one of these strongholds than the coast. Another thing in favour of this option is that there is probably only a limited number of abandoned strongholds, as well as someone who has to know all of them, while the number of possible hideouts near the coast can hardly be estimated. Instead of going on a wild goose chase all along the coast, they should work methodically and check these old strongholds one by one.
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
[Search the lands of House Granit] Wylie does bring up a good point but at the same time, it is probably best to search some specific areas like the small towers of House Granit rather than the entire coast where they probably would not have much of an idea where to start. Either way it is going to be tough to find Efran and his mean but checking specific strongholds seem like the best course of action to take here.
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warri… moreors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar … [view original content]
Dianna will search the lands of House Granit. This decision obviously determined very much what kind of storyline will Dianna have in the next chapter, and I'm actually quite happy with this choice, for reasons
And this time there is no need for recap, because the next part will be a brand new PoV. I know, I know, a pretty strange timing to introduce a new PoV, so close to the ending of the chapter. But there is a reason I bring this character in now rather than in the next chapter - and that reason is mostly the small time skip between the chapters. Anyway, you can expect this part within couple days. However, before that we should have another great H&L
It was true what they said, every man had a weakness. More than one, in most cases. During the tourneys he had attended, during the duels he had fought, Naemon had learned that this was especially true for knights. He had fought against knights who were strong, but too slow to land a hit. He had fought against knights who were fast, but who barely managed to lift a proper sword, even less so to land a hit that actually hurt.
Even men like his cousin Jamison, undoubtedly strong and fast as Naemon begrudgingly had to admit, had their flaws. Their biggest one was overconfidence in their skills. They were unaware of their weaknesses or consciously refused to see them and their arrogance was a weakness in itself. Of course, Naemon freely admitted that he was not without flaws either. In his case, his biggest weakness were redheads.
One particularly fine example of a redhead sat right next to him in this very moment, on the large, luxurious settee in the centre of his room and Naemon found it hard to focus in her presence. Her name was Anya and she was Blackmont's newest stable girl, as well as the prettiest by far. Her hair was shimmering like molten copper in the light of the candles that brightly illuminated the room. Her light blue eyes were shining in a breathtaking way whenever she laughed, so Naemon had made it his personal mission to make her laugh as often as possible. Add to that a delicate, slightly freckled nose and Naemon had to admit that he had a serious crush on her, at least for this evening. The wine would do the rest, it was a sweet, but strong bottle imported from the Arbor, as delicious as it was expensive.
“Well, don't you want to answer the question?”, another voice, soft and female, sounded and Naemon sighed, as he stopped to admire Anya's beauty and instead focussed on his other weakness, looking at him from the armchair across the small table. She was not less easy on the eyes, arguably even more so, but unfortunately she was related to him. And like the good big sister she was, Gwendis naturally decided to make things as complicated as possible for him tonight. It was not that Anya was a very complicated person, quite the contrary to be honest, but unfortunately for him, Gwendis could be very, very complicated in situations like this.
“Forgive me, sweet sister”, Naemon said. “I was busy with admiring my beautiful company” He gave Anya a wink and the stable girl blushed. “My... my prince”, she gasped and her eyes shined happily. Gwendis meanwhile simply rolled her own eyes with slight annoyance. “Smooth, brother. Charming even”, she said and reached down for her cup, filled with Naemon's expensive wine. “Though you used the same excuse the last three times” She took a sip from her cup and smirked.
“The last three times?”, Anya asked. How... how many times do you... you know...?” Naemon gulped and a smile that was as apologetic as it was charming formed on his face. “I am an admirer of beauty”, he said and stared daggers at his sister. Gwendis chuckled, obviously finding his struggles highly amusing. “That is a very polite way of putting it”, she answered.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Naemon saw that Anya was obviously confused by their little exchange. Well, he had not taken an interest in her for her intelligence. A confident smile formed on his face. “Mylady, have I ever told you about knighthood?”, he asked, in the attempt to change the topic.
Immediately, Gwendis rolled her purple eyes. “Here we go again”, she sighed and Naemon glared at her. “If you don't want to hear it, you can always leave”, he said, though Gwendis shook her head. “Oh, there's no way I'm going to miss this”, she said and reached for the bottle, filling her cup until it was almost overflowing, with Naemon's wine. “Just, probably not entirely sober”
“Right”, Naemon mumbled, before he smiled at Anya. “So, what do you know about knights?” The young woman gave him an insecure smile and she looked stunning while doing so. “Not... not much, my prince”, she stuttered. “They are warriors”
Naemon shook his head. “A common misinterpretation”, he corrected her gently. “Knights are, first and foremost, defenders. A warrior's purpose is to fight. A defender's purpose meanwhile is to protect” He made a large handwave. “Women, children, the innocent, everyone in need”, he proclaimed and he meant what he said. “This is a knight's duty. It's his true calling”
“But... can't a warrior fight to protect others as well?”, Anya asked and Gwendis raised an eyebrow in a slightly impressed way. “You know, I like her”, she said. “She brings up some good points” Naemon gave her a nod. “Yes, that's true”, he answered. “But at heart, every fight of a true warrior ends with the death of his opponent. Protecting others comes second”
He glanced down at his own glass of wine, but decided against drinking more, at least for now. “Killing someone is not always knightly”, he told her. “A true knight must consider every fight individually. This is his duty, he has been charged to be just in the name of the Father” Mentioning one of the Seven had the effect he aimed for and Anya's eyes widened with astonishment. “So, not every knight is just?”, she asked and Naemon smiled. “If every knight would be truly just, then the world would be a far better place”, he answered. “Sadly, there are only a selected few who follow this principle and who can rightfully consider themselves true knights”
“You do?”, Anya asked and this time, Naemon gave her a proud nod. “Ever since I was knighted, two years ago”, he said and noticed Gwendis' smirk. “Don't you dare”, he whispered into her direction. He knew, she'd bring up the ceremony, which had honestly been a mess. After Father had forbidden him to squire for his uncle, Vorian Dayne, he ended up squiring for the elderly Lord Tomard Blackadder, who had already been unable to hold his water by then. He frowned as he remembered the terrible smell of the late lord, whose bladder had been the only thing even weaker than his brain in his final years.
Audibly, he cleared his throat and as he glanced at Anya, she gave him a coy grin. “But yes, I think I may call myself a just man”. The thought of being a just king one day sent shivers down his spine. “That said, I consider myself as brave as I am just”, he boasted to change the topic. “After all, I was charged to be brave, in the name of the warrior”
“I remember a story of particular bravery”, Gwendis mentioned and Naemon glanced at her. “It was shortly after he lost his first tournament at the tender age of sixteen. He was good, but his seventh opponent during the tourney was Jamison Dayne” Now Naemon narrowed his eyes. “I think Lady Anya would rather hear how I unhorsed the previous six”
He glanced at the girl and, to his annoyance, noticed an all too familiar expression. “Jamison Dayne?”, she asked with a gasp and Naemon sighed. “Yeah, cousin Jamison. He's really not that impressive”, he claimed and Gwendis shook her head. “Well, he unhorsed you, with relative ease, as I must add” Naemon narrowed his eyes. “He got lucky”, he insisted.
“The Sword of the Night...”, Anya said awestruck and Naemon sent a glare towards Gwendis for even mentioning him. “And you faced him out of your own free will?” Slowly, Naemon gave her a nod and he noticed how impressed she was. “By the Seven, this is so brave”, she gasped and now, a smirk formed on his face. “As I said, I was charged to be brave”, he answered.
“Yes, crying tears of bravery after your first defeat”, Gwendis chuckled, though thankfully she had lowered her voice and Anya wasn't paying enough attention to her. “Brave, just...”, the young stable girl said. “Does that mean you are a true knight?”
“Yes and no, sweet Anya”, Naemon said and as he grinned at her, she blushed delicately. “I am a true knight, but not only because I am brave and just” A feeling of pride went through him and his confident smile met Gwendis' expression of playful mockery. “At least as true as Uncle Vorian”, he added. “Don't you agree, Gwen?”
“I don't think anyone can be as much a true knight as Uncle Vorian”, Gwendis answered, which was something Naemon actually had to agree with. Then, her expression grew more serious. “But you are on a good way”, she admitted. “Say, why don't you tell her the story about your encounter on the road to Gravesend?”
Her suggestion took Naemon by surprise. It was not a story he usually brought up, but at the same time, it was not a story he was ashamed of, quite the contrary. It was simply a story he never thought anyone else could find interesting. Well, aside from Gwendis of course, who never grew tired of it. For a moment, he looked at her, trying to determine if this was one of her games, though he quickly realized that she was actually serious about her request. He was sure of this, since he knew her better than anyone else.
“I believe Anya would like to hear a story of you actually being a true knight”, she said. “Not of you being second best at some tourney. Say, is it required of a knight to fight in tournaments?” Naemon shook his head, which slightly confused Anya. “But... isn't every knight out to win glory?”, she asked. “To achieve great victories?”
This time, Naemon gave her a smile. “Many knights are only living such a life for the glory, it's true”, he admitted. He hid the fact that he himself appreciated this glory as well. “They fight on tournaments, march to war. But in doing so, many of them loose track of what a knight is truly meant to be”
He smirked as he stretched his arms, only to subtly put his left one around her shoulders. She did not tense up under his touch, which was a good sign. “There is more than one definition of a great victory. And knights, they are defenders”, he explained. “They defend the young and innocent in the name of the Mother and women in the name of the Maiden”
He noticed that he had her undivided attention by now. “But I don't wish to bore you, mylady”, he said. “I have quite a number of stories to tell about knighthood, so why don't you choose. There's the story Gwendis mentioned, but I could also tell you of the tourney at Skyreach”
“In which you became second, after Jamison of course”, Gwendis said. “I doubt anyone wishes to hear how you got knocked into the dust by your own cousin” A smirk flashed across her face. “Admittedly, I can't get enough of it, but I'm not the focus of your attention right now. Why don't we let Anya decide?”
Under Gwendis' questioning stare, Anya gulped, but when his sister showed her charming smile, the stable girl relaxed again. “I... I think the story you mentioned sounds interesting. About the road to Gravesend”, she said and Gwendis' smile got wider. “You got a precious one there, brother”, she complimented him. “I don't think I can remember anyone else ever choosing this over one of your tournament stories”
“You did”, Naemon reminded her and Gwendis gave him a nod, drinking another sip from the painfully expensive wine. “Yeah, but I'm special”, she said with a wink. “The wine is splendid, by the way, don't you agree, Anya?”
The young woman looked up and at Gwendis' confident smile. She blushed again, before she reciprocated the smile, although thin and shy. “It's the best I ever had, my princess”, she mumbled and Naemon whistled gently to regain her attention. “Alright, it's story time”, he said.
Once he was sure that Anya was listening and Gwendis was silent for once, he started to speak. “It happened slightly over a year ago. I just turned seventeen and returned from my second tourney, the one at Uplands in the Reach”, he explained. “I had passed through Gravesend the day before and was currently looking for a place to spend the night. It was dark and rainy, the wind howled through the mountains and after a scalding day, the night was chillingly cold”
Naemon leant forwards. “That's where I heard it. Faintly in the distance, a desperate cry for help”, he whispered and Anya looked up. “I immediately turned my horse into the direction of the cries and rushed to find their source. After a short while, I spotted three figures, each of them holding crude weapons, slowly beating the live out of a fourth figure on the ground, who was merely able to whimper. The three saw me coming of course, my sword drawn, charging at them. Gotta admit, they were smart, because as soon as I came closer, they ran away”
“So you chased them down?”, Anya asked and Naemon shook his head. “I let them go”, he said and she seemed confused by his answer. “No, really, I did not chase them. Instead, I rather stayed with the woman they had been beating almost to death. She was barely conscious and would have died if I wouldn't have stayed with her”
Finally, she understood and her eyes widened. “You rather saved her live”, she realized. Naemon nodded with pride. “Indeed. That's what a knight should do”, he explained. “It's not so much about killing others, it's about defending those in need. The young, the innocent, women and children”
“And this woman you saved, she survived?”, Anya asked and Naemon smiled. “She's fine”, he assured her. “Even better, so is her child. When I turned her around to inspect her wounds, I realized she had been shielding a young boy from these men. As fast as I could, I brought both of them back to Blackmont, where Maester Mortin tended to their wounds”
Naemon and Gwendis exchanged a look and his sister smiled at him. “Once she got better, we learned that she came from Oakswood and tried to run to her family at Gravesend, to escape from a soldier that abused her. The man and his friends caught up and they had every intention of killing her, at least until my little brother arrived and they saw the sigil on his armour”, she explained. “Later on, I arranged for her to be brought to Gravesend, to her family and far away from the bastard that hurt her. Last time I heard of her, she married a cobbler who treats her well. But without Naemon, she would have died back then”
When Naemon looked back at Anya, he noticed the look of awe in her eyes. “So, this is what a true knight is about”, she stated and he gave her a nod. “Far better than the Sword of the Night, eh?”, he asked and she gave him an enthusiastic nod. “Much better”, she agreed quickly.
Now, Naemon chuckled. “That's not to say my cousin or the others are bad knights. A man can be a knight without aspiring for true knighthood”, he explained. “But an endless wave of tournament, one bloody war after the other, that's not what it should be about. At heart, I believe a knight should focus less on killing and more on saving”
“It's a good thing that you don't even like killing”, Gwendis said and Naemon glanced at her. From the smirk on her face, even he had a hard time reading her and he was not sure if it was subtle mockery, or genuine appreciation. Quickly, he decided for the latter. He knew Gwendis' own views on this and how they aligned with his own.
That said, he wisely decided to remain silent about it. Just now, he had Anya exactly where he wanted her to be, awestruck at him, the hero. She'd be disappointed to learn that his story was only half of the truth. It was true that he remained behind to help the woman and everything he told her was his deepest conviction. Saving a life was always more important than taking one.
However, he also stayed with her to avoid killing the men that tormented her. In fact, he abhorred the very thought. It was one thing to fight straw men, but fighting a human being, flesh and blood to the death, that was something else entirely. And despite all of his training, he never got to the point where he could believe that all men were made of straw. The thought of actually ending a human life, it was the source of nightmares for him. Naemon had no doubt that this was decidedly less heroic.
As he looked back at Anya, his smile had grown thinner, though she did not seem to mind. The way she looked at him, it caused his heart to beat faster and he could have lost himself in her eyes right now, just like he had lost himself in so many eyes before. His confidence was strong, though her beauty was even stronger and his smile grew nervous. “So... I, uh, hope my story has not bored you. It's not one I usually tell”
“Why not?”, she cut him off and he noticed that she had grown slightly bolder by now, a streak he appreciated. “Ah, I have made the experience that most people find it rather boring, compared to my other stories”, he explained. “They prefer to hear how I unhorsed four men during the joust of the tournament at Starfall, or defeated half a dozen during the melee of the tournament at Skyreach. This one lacks fights and blood and danger. It's not what others expect of a knight”
“I believe you have been very heroic”, Anya said, before her eyes widened, as she noticed that she had forgotten something. “My prince” Naemon smiled. “Naemon”, he offered and she gave him a nod. “Naemon”, she agreed.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement. Even though he wanted to remain focussed on Anya for the rest of the night, he turned his head, to see that Gwendis had raised from her chair. She had been drinking a lot of his wine, especially for a woman of her physique, but she stood remarkably steadfast and the look she gave him was clear and almost sober. “I believe I should leave you two alone”, she stated.
Now it was up to Naemon to grin. He could have let her go without a further word, but after the way she had made things harder for him the entire night, he just had to comment on the situation. “Oh, what is it, Gwenny? Are you jealous?”, he asked and slyly raised an eyebrow. “Or do you see anything you like?”
Gwendis glanced at Anya only slightly longer than necessary, before she slowly shook her head. “Hardly”, she stated, though Naemon noticed that her smile had grown considerably less confident. Not wanting to torment his sister any further, he gave her a nod. “It was nice having you here tonight, Gwendis”, he said wholeheartedly and she nodded. “Of course. You're lucky to have me”, she stated, before she turned around and walked to the door. “Close the door!”, Naemon yelled after her.
Of course she left it widely open. Naemon rolled his eyes, before he looked back at Anya. “I'm back in a minute”, he said and she gave him a quick nod, still staring at him in awe. She was quite something that she liked this story so much, he had to admit it. Most women preferred to hear of his victories against other knights. Gwendis was an exception, the only one he had met until tonight.
“My sweet sister”, he proclaimed loudly, to make sure she'd hear him out in the hallway. “The beautiful princess of Blackmont. Brilliantly bright, a model of decency, with impeccable manners” He made sure that his compliments sounded particularly hammy, as he put his hands on both side of the doorframe, to lean out of it and to glance to his right. Gwendis had stopped a few feet away, her back turned towards him. “Unable to close a fucking door”, he chuckled.
Gwendis glanced over her shoulder and their gazes met. “Enjoy your beautiful company”, she said in a jovial tone and Naemon raised an eyebrow. “Try not to think too much about my beautiful company”, he answered with a wide grin. A sly smirk formed on Gwendis' face. “Sleep well, Naemon”, she said and he gave her a nod. “See you tomorrow Gwen”, he answered.
Feeling especially cheerful, as well as glad to finally have some privacy, Naemon stepped back into his room, closing the door behind him and locking it, just to be sure that they wouldn't be disturbed. Then, with an eager look on his face, he turned around again. “Well then”, he said. “Where were we?”
Getting Naemon's insight to knighthood is of course interesting, but even more I enjoyed the chemistry between him and Gwendis. Also the mentions of Jamison and this rivalry they've got is a nice detail. Overall, this certainly gives me inspiration for writing Naemon's adventures to come in the future chapters
Nymeria's War: Histories & Lore
Naemon Blackmont – Knighthood
It was true what they said, every man had a weakness. More than one,… more in most cases. During the tourneys he had attended, during the duels he had fought, Naemon had learned that this was especially true for knights. He had fought against knights who were strong, but too slow to land a hit. He had fought against knights who were fast, but who barely managed to lift a proper sword, even less so to land a hit that actually hurt.
Even men like his cousin Jamison, undoubtedly strong and fast as Naemon begrudgingly had to admit, had their flaws. Their biggest one was overconfidence in their skills. They were unaware of their weaknesses or consciously refused to see them and their arrogance was a weakness in itself. Of course, Naemon freely admitted that he was not without flaws either. In his case, his biggest weakness were redheads.
One particularly fine example of a redh… [view original content]
Nymeria's War: Histories & Lore
Naemon Blackmont – Knighthood
It was true what they said, every man had a weakness. More than one,… more in most cases. During the tourneys he had attended, during the duels he had fought, Naemon had learned that this was especially true for knights. He had fought against knights who were strong, but too slow to land a hit. He had fought against knights who were fast, but who barely managed to lift a proper sword, even less so to land a hit that actually hurt.
Even men like his cousin Jamison, undoubtedly strong and fast as Naemon begrudgingly had to admit, had their flaws. Their biggest one was overconfidence in their skills. They were unaware of their weaknesses or consciously refused to see them and their arrogance was a weakness in itself. Of course, Naemon freely admitted that he was not without flaws either. In his case, his biggest weakness were redheads.
One particularly fine example of a redh… [view original content]
Thanks a lot, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Took me long enough to finish this part, I hope the rest enjoys it as well
Though I'm not sure what you've sensed. If it is what I think it is, then you might be wrong, sort of. There was definitely some subtext I tried to include here though.
I'm very happy you enjoy it And I agree, writing this interaction between him and Gwendis has been my highlight in both H&L's I've written so far and it's been a lot of fun to show how their interaction has changed over the years. With Jamison, it was something that dawned upon me during my talk with CM3434 (by the way, thanks for the inspiration on the topic ), that Jamison and Naemon have actually pretty conflicting views on knighthood while still sharing roughly similar goals. Paired with your mention of Jamison in Gwendis' very first part in the proper story (where she mentioned that he and Naemon used be at each others throats a lot as children) and I decided to include it here in the part.
This is just awesome!
Getting Naemon's insight to knighthood is of course interesting, but even more I enjoyed the chemistry between him… more and Gwendis. Also the mentions of Jamison and this rivalry they've got is a nice detail. Overall, this certainly gives me inspiration for writing Naemon's adventures to come in the future chapters
It is no problem, I am glad you chose to do this topic and like always you knocked it out of the park and it was an excellent H&L! It was pretty cool seeing Gwendis & Naemon interact with one another in a light hearted manner without all of the chaos going on around them. I really enjoyed reading about Naemon's opinion on Knighthood since like you said, Naemon and Jamison do indeed have differing opinions on knighthood and the Gravesend story was truly amazing and ties in perfectly with what knighthood is about to Naemon. Of course, I also enjoyed the mention of Jamison and this little friendly rivalry of theirs is pretty neat. I also love this H&L format of turning the H&L into a story of its own and wish I would have done that with the H&L's I have written thus far but it has motivated to write future H&L's in this manner for sure. Great Job!
I'm very happy you enjoy it And I agree, writing this interaction between him and Gwendis has been my highlight in both H&L's I've writ… moreten so far and it's been a lot of fun to show how their interaction has changed over the years. With Jamison, it was something that dawned upon me during my talk with CM3434 (by the way, thanks for the inspiration on the topic ), that Jamison and Naemon have actually pretty conflicting views on knighthood while still sharing roughly similar goals. Paired with your mention of Jamison in Gwendis' very first part in the proper story (where she mentioned that he and Naemon used be at each others throats a lot as children) and I decided to include it here in the part.
Thanks a lot, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Took me long enough to finish this part, I hope the rest enjoys it as well
Though I'm not sure what… more you've sensed. If it is what I think it is, then you might be wrong, sort of. There was definitely some subtext I tried to include here though.
I can't be sure what Liquid's thoughts are exactly on this, but I figured I could give my thoughts: Naemon and Gwendis are very close, probably even more than siblings usually are, because they went through the expercience of losing their mother together - they were the only ones who fully understood and supported each other in that period of their lives. I'd also say though that there isn't really anything romantic between them. I mean perhaps a thought of something like that has crossed their minds at one point or another, but nothing more than that.
I'm not even sure if that was really the vibe you sensed though, or if it was something completely different XD
He could hear and smell the sea, feel the wind and the burning sun on his skin, and he could feel pain. I’m alive, Verro realized, and opened his eyes. At first he was dazzled by the sun, but as his eyes adjusted he realized he had been washed ashore to a beach with white sands. It had to be Dorne – they had been close to its shore when the storm had surprised them.
Verro’s clothes were torn and wet, his long dark brown hair was even messier than usually – and sand was everywhere. He could feel his back aching, as well as a numbing pain on his right leg. He looked to both directions of the coast, but he couldn’t see a wreckage anywhere. Where is Donillos? Verro didn’t care if Captain Scar had died, or Marco, or the Limpfoot, but he had to find Donillos. For so long that man had been like a brother to him, that even the thought of losing him was gut-wrenching.
As he started taking faltering steps on the sand, Verro realized he had lost his weapons. He had to just put that thought aside, even if he knew he’d be completely defenseless in any kind of danger. As he looked to the west he could see red cliffs, about three-hundred feet from the sea. Clenching his teeth Verro decided to head towards those cliffs, in hopes of seeing more from there.
As he walked, he started to realize that he would need to find someone, rather sooner than later, or he would die – most likely of dehydration. Why did we have to shipwreck to Dorne, the shittiest place on this world? Verro cursed in his mind, but he continued to walk with determination in his steps.
Verro remembered how just couple days ago he had thought that it was the happiest time of his life, and now everything had come crashing down. Take another step, and another, and another. He frowned in anger and frustration. I have hit rock bottom again. On his fifteenth year the slavers had taken him from his home at the Great Grass Sea, and made him fight in pits for the entertainment of others. He had suffered every day, alone and with no one who understood Dothraki – the only communication from the slavers was the whip. The pirates taking over his master’s ship at the Slaver’s Bay had ended that hell. He still couldn’t call himself a free man, and the work on the ship was hard, but for the first time in years he wasn’t alone. Donillos was a friend to him – he taught him the common tongue, helped him, made him smile and laugh. It lasted four years, each year better than the last. And now it has come to an end.
Verro let out a scream of frustration as he fell on his knees to the soft sand. He grabbed a handful of the fine white sand and threw it to the air, watching as the wind scattered the small grains and took them away. After staying there for couple minutes, Verro stood up again, and kept walking. Every step was pain, and every second made him more sure he would die here alone.
Finally, he arrived to the cliffs, and started to look around, trying to find a route where he could climb up. He wasn’t sure if he could do it with all this pain on his leg, but he had to try. But then he noticed something – three riders approaching from the south, riding along the shore.
The riders weren’t flying any kind of banners, but two of them wore red and black robes and hid their faces. The man in the middle was wearing a light chainmail armor, and he had a worn-out white tabard with a black snake coiled around a red sword. Some sort of sigil.
Verro knew he had no way to escape, so he just stood there, watching as the riders got closer and closer. The man in the middle had a bushy black beard, and medium length black hair that had started to grey – he had to be at least on his late forties. The look on the man’s face was stern, and Verro had to admit to himself that in this moment he was feeling fear. He was unarmed, defenseless. He gulped, thinking about all the times he had robbed and killed as a pirate. Perhaps this is a punishment.
Finally, the riders arrived to Verro and surrounded him, pointing their swords at him. The two men in black and red robes had curved swords, whereas the man with the bushy beard had a straight long sword, shining steel. He looked at Verro with stern look on his dark eyes – and then he smiled.
“You are one of Captain Scar’s crew, right?” He asked calmly, and Verro gulped. “H- how do you know that?” He asked, and his voice came out even weaker than he had expected. The man lowered his sword and chuckled – the other two followed his example, and now Verro noticed that under their robes they were dark-skinned.
“We found the wreckage.” He said coldly. “And the body of Scar himself.” Verro didn’t know what to say, so he just turned his gaze to the ground. He had never really liked the Captain, but he had still offered him a new life. “Did you find anyone alive?” Verro asked weakly, and the man gave him a nod.
“Yes, we found you.” He replied emotionlessly. Verro closed his eyes, as the realization hit him like a hammer – he would never see Donillos again. For a moment they were all silent, until Verro opened his eyes again. “You knew Captain Scar… who are you?” He asked, eyeing at these men, not being sure if they would save him or kill him.
“My name is Ser Byrron Granit.” The bearded man answered with a smile. “And these two are Jabar and Zhobho.” Byrron pointed at the dark-skinned men, who stayed silent.
“And… how do you know Scar?” Verro asked with uncertain words. “We’ve had some trouble with the bastard in the past.” Byrron spoke with a sharp tone. “I’m sure you are familiar with the name Efran Sand.” Verro’s eyes widened as he heard this name. Efran was one of the most feared pirates in the Stepstones, he had allies everywhere. Scar however had always wanted to stay away from him – they had even waged war against him.
“So now you understand.” Byrron had a smirk on his face as he spoke. “We had our problems with Scar, but I also have respect for the old cunt – he was resilient if anything. And out of that respect for him, I am going to offer you a chance.” Ser Byrron looked Verro straight to the eye as he said this.
“A chance?” Verro asked with shaky voice, and Byrron nodded to him. “Yes, a chance. A chance to join us – to join a rebellion, a chance to fight for what’s right.” Verro gulped, he had no idea what was this man talking about. “If you refuse, we let you go.” Byrron said softly. “Travel north, and you’ll find a small village, less than two hours travel from here. However, I don’t recommend refusing – soon all these lands will be under the rule of Efran, and he will remember.” The last words of Byrron had an ominous tone, and Verro could see the anger in his eyes.
[Join][Refuse]
PS. remember to check out Liquid's awesome H&L above if you haven't yet
Verro
He could hear and smell the sea, feel the wind and the burning sun on his skin, and he could feel pain. I’m alive, Verro realized, … moreand opened his eyes. At first he was dazzled by the sun, but as his eyes adjusted he realized he had been washed ashore to a beach with white sands. It had to be Dorne – they had been close to its shore when the storm had surprised them.
Verro’s clothes were torn and wet, his long dark brown hair was even messier than usually – and sand was everywhere. He could feel his back aching, as well as a numbing pain on his right leg. He looked to both directions of the coast, but he couldn’t see a wreckage anywhere. Where is Donillos? Verro didn’t care if Captain Scar had died, or Marco, or the Limpfoot, but he had to find Donillos. For so long that man had been like a brother to him, that even the thought of losing him was gut-wrenching.
As he started taking faltering steps on the sand, Verro realized he h… [view original content]
I was a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, I am very sure that these lands won't remain under Efran's control forever. In fact, I'm even guessing that he's going down relatively soon, maybe at the end of Book 1. He doesn't really strike me as a major antagonist for the Martell's in the endgame. This means, joining him could be highly dangerous. On the other hand, I am not sure if Verro truly has a choice here. Byrron gave it to him, but he's obviously angry about the idea that he could refuse. And what really convinced me to join the rebellion is the chance to actually see Efran, who sounds more and more interesting with every new mention of him Especially since it seems we chose wrong with our last choice for Dianna, since Byrron and his people appeared at the cost and not at some stronghold in the lands of House Granit.
Verro
He could hear and smell the sea, feel the wind and the burning sun on his skin, and he could feel pain. I’m alive, Verro realized, … moreand opened his eyes. At first he was dazzled by the sun, but as his eyes adjusted he realized he had been washed ashore to a beach with white sands. It had to be Dorne – they had been close to its shore when the storm had surprised them.
Verro’s clothes were torn and wet, his long dark brown hair was even messier than usually – and sand was everywhere. He could feel his back aching, as well as a numbing pain on his right leg. He looked to both directions of the coast, but he couldn’t see a wreckage anywhere. Where is Donillos? Verro didn’t care if Captain Scar had died, or Marco, or the Limpfoot, but he had to find Donillos. For so long that man had been like a brother to him, that even the thought of losing him was gut-wrenching.
As he started taking faltering steps on the sand, Verro realized he h… [view original content]
Thanks for the compliments, I'm happy you liked it. And I'm looking forward for your future H&L's very much! Your previous ones have been amazing, so I am excited to read about what you're coming up with in your next H&L's and it's nice knowing that you enjoy this thing with turning them into a little short story. It seems we inspired each other then, since none of the H&L's would have even existed if you wouldn't have started the whole thing
It is no problem, I am glad you chose to do this topic and like always you knocked it out of the park and it was an excellent H&L! It w… moreas pretty cool seeing Gwendis & Naemon interact with one another in a light hearted manner without all of the chaos going on around them. I really enjoyed reading about Naemon's opinion on Knighthood since like you said, Naemon and Jamison do indeed have differing opinions on knighthood and the Gravesend story was truly amazing and ties in perfectly with what knighthood is about to Naemon. Of course, I also enjoyed the mention of Jamison and this little friendly rivalry of theirs is pretty neat. I also love this H&L format of turning the H&L into a story of its own and wish I would have done that with the H&L's I have written thus far but it has motivated to write future H&L's in this manner for sure. Great Job!
Comments
Myke
Myke sat opposed to Ser Joran, drinking the piss poor ale of this small tavern they had found their way into. Raina had already gone to her room, but Myke and Joran stayed up. The sun had set, and the taproom was illuminated only by few lanterns and candles here and there. Aside from the two Stormlander knights there were only few customers, who sat quietly by their tables.
“So, why didn’t you want to sleep at the mansion?” Myke asked calmly, and Joran answered with a tired chuckle. “Because I don’t trust that bastard of a septon, that’s why.” He said quietly, taking a gulp from his ale, and Myke raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you distrust him?” He asked with slightly amused tone.
“Is this a fucking questioning?” Joran grunted tiredly, emptying his mug. Myke let out a sigh. “Alright, let’s talk about something else then.” He suggested softly. “You know, if the septon is to be believed, we won’t find Kortney from Blackmont.”
“Are you saying we shouldn’t go there?” Joran asked with grim tone, staring at the coarse surface of the table. “No, I think we should go there, but we should start to think where will we go next, if we don’t find Kortney from Blackmont.” Myke’s tone was sullen, and he took a deep gulp from his ale. For a moment Joran stayed silent.
“Do you think we have any chance of finding her?” He finally asked with slightly defeated tone, and Myke let out a deep sigh. “The chances were never big.” He admitted quietly, thinking about all his fond memories with Kortney, from years ago, telling her stories about Essos, watching her curious eyes widen as the story reached an exciting moment. “But we have to try, we just have to.” His voice was bitter and decisive at the same time, and Joran nodded in agreement, a stern look on his face.
For a while the knights sat in silence by their table, until someone arrived to them. A lean man on his thirties, with stubble beard, long brown hair and plain clothing approached them with uncertain steps. Myke and Joran turned their gaze to this man who now stood next to their table.
“Good evening.” The man said with a friendly tone. “For you too, friend.” Myke replied with placid tone, and the man grabbed a chair to sit at the head of the table. “My name is Walter, Walter Oakley.” He introduced himself. “I’m a travelling merchant, been living here with my wife and sister the past few months.” Walter pointed towards his table at the corner, where two women sat in silence.
“Well, I’m Ser Myke, and my friend here is Ser Joran Storm, we come from Nightsong.” Myke explained politely, though his voice was slightly tired. Walter nodded, glancing at Myke and Joran with great interest. “You brought that deserter here earlier today, right?” He asked, his voice a bit more serious now.
“We did.” Joran grunted. “He is a criminal and deserves to be hanged.” Walter gave Joran an agreeing nod. “I agree, good ser. But I can tell you that tomorrow might get bloody, this town has gone to hell during these past few weeks.” The merchant let out a sigh. “I assume you are not planning to stay here?”
“No, we aren’t.” Myke answered casually. “We will be on our way tomorrow.” He said, and Walter nodded to him with a smile. “Good.” He said with a touch of relief on his words. “There is something I’d like to ask.” The man’s tone was uncertain, and Myke raised an eyebrow.
“Go ahead.” He said quietly, looking the merchant to the eye, and he nodded to him. “You see, we have been planning to travel away from here, perhaps to Starfall, I’m not sure. But anyway, the problem is that the road is at the moment simply too dangerous for us to travel without protection. I like to think that I can defend myself, but I also have Autumn and Quinn to look after.”
“You want us to protect you?” Joran asked with bored tone, and Walter nodded with a gulp. “Sure, do you have horses?” Joran asked, and the merchant nodded nervously.
“We have one.” Walter said and scratched his head. “An old carthorse, not the fastest, but he is a tough one.” Joran sighed, but gave the merchant a small nod. “Fine, we’ll escort you, but only to Blackmont. From there you have to travel without us.” He spoke lazily, twiddling the mug on his hand.
“Thank you, thank you very much sers.” Walter spoke with a relieved tone, and Myke nodded to him. “We’ll leave in the morning, be ready.” He said, and stood up from table. Walter agreed and thanked them once more, and after that Myke made his way to his room.
-
When Myke arrived to the taproom in the morning, Raina, Joran and Walter with his sister and wife were already waiting for him. Quinn, Walter’s younger sister, was a stern looking woman on her late twenties, with the same brown hair as her brother and a distinctive scar on her throat. Walter’s wife, Autumn, was a pretty one, around the same age as Quinn, a timid look on her blue eyes.
“Finally.” Joran grunted, looking at Myke. “Are we leaving already?” Myke asked with a tired tone. “I haven’t eaten anything yet.”
“You can eat on the road, old man.” Quinn said with sharp tone, and Myke narrowed his eyes. “I guess so.” He muttered quietly, and so they made their way out of the tavern. As they stepped outside, they heard the bells of the sept ringing.
“The execution.” Raina stated with emotionless tone. “Perhaps we should find a street that doesn’t go through the town square.” She suggested, but Joran shook his head.
“No.” He said coldly. “I think I want to see the bastard hang.” Myke let out a sigh, but didn’t protest, so they kept walking towards the square. Soon they started to hear the shouting, the whistling and the booing. “As I said yesterday, things might get bloody.” Walter spoke with nervous tone, but Joran just chuckled.
“They are just a bunch of angry peasants.” He said dismissingly, and Myke noticed Quinn frowning. “They’ll shout and shake their fists, and if they try anything more they’ll be put to the sword.”
“Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.” Myke said sternly, and the group kept walking in silence. When they arrived to the town square they could see the platform on the other side, and dozens of guards in front of it. On the platform stood Septon Kevan and Commander Brennin Kell, and of course the shackled deserter named Brack. The town square itself was packed with people, and Myke could easily see that surprisingly many of them had armed themselves with knives or rusty old hatchets and hammers. This doesn’t look good.
The group made their way closer to the platform, while the people around them were keeping their noise. “Free him!” Someone shouted. “You fucking pigs!” Myke heard a woman’s voice screaming. It was hot, people were pushing each other, trying to get closer to the platform. Some of them were furious, others looked nervous, others outright frightened.
As Myke’s group got close enough, they could see Seban, Alan and the other guards standing in a line with their spears, keeping the people away from the platform.
“As do we sin, so do we suffer!” Shouted Septon Kevan with zealous tone, his voice hardly audible amidst all the noise. The commander put the noose around Brack’s neck, which made the crowd somewhat more quiet.
“This man has committed a terrible crime.” Kevan said, pointing towards Brack, causing an angry murmur in the crowd. “He is not your friend, he is a wolf, preying on the innocent. He is a deserter, a murderer, a sinner.” For a moment silence lingered on the air, and Myke noticed Kevan gulping as he turned towards Commander Brennin. “Hang him.” The septon commanded, and people started shouting again.
“Mercy!” Myke heard someone plead. “You are the only murderers here!” Shouted an old man right next to them.
With a grim and defeated expression on his face the deserter stood on the chair, noose on his neck. Commander Brennin didn’t hesitate, he kicked the chair under Brack’s feet, and soon the deserter’s body dangled in the air. The whole crowd gasped in shock. Life disappeared from Brack’s eyes.
“Karsan Taller!” Someone shouted a battle cry in the haunting silence, raising his hatchet in the air, and rushing towards the line of guards. “Oh shit.” Myke heard Joran mutter just before the situation turned into chaos. People started running to different directions – some away from the square, and others towards the platform with their weapons. Joran and Raina took out their swords, and Myke his dagger.
“Get somewhere safe, we’ll find you later!” Myke shouted to Walter, Quinn and Autumn, who followed his command with no objections. As Myke turned around he saw Joran already rushing towards the platform, where the guards were doing their best to keep the troublemakers away. The commander had taken out his bastard sword on the platform, and stood in guard of the septon.
“I guess we better help them.” Raina said with a touch of nervousness in her words, and Myke gave her a small nod. And so they rushed into the fight.
Myke pulled people away from the guards, smacking them to the ground. Most of them crawled away, but some tried to put up a fight. Myke was perhaps old, but he still had enough of his strength left to make sure none of these rioters managed to touch him. He saw that Raina had a bit more problems. She tried to strike the rioters so that she didn’t cut them with her sword, but it was such a small space where she had to make her moves that some of them got dangerously close to her. One of them, a tall man with long and greasy hair got too close to Raina, and was about to slice her with his knife, but Myke managed to sneak up to him. In the heat of the moment he plunged his dagger into the abdomen of the man. The rioter screamed in agony, and pulled Myke down with him as he fell to the ground. Myke pulled his dagger out, and turned to see that Raina was already fighting against another man, a bald man with fat belly. She hit him to the forehead with the pommel of her sword, making him take a couple steps back and falling to a spear of one of the guards.
Myke tried to scramble up from the stony ground, when he saw a sturdy young man running towards him with fury in his green eyes, shaking the hammer in his hand. Myke reached for his dagger, but his position couldn’t have been worse. Raina noticed the situation, but too late. She tried to catch the man with the hammer, but she couldn’t. Myke tried to parry the swing of the hammer with his hand, but he failed. It hit him straight to the forehead, immediately sending him to the ground. First the voices disappeared, the screams, the sounds of the fighting – he heard nothing. Then the world started to turn fuzzy in his eyes. The last thing he saw was Raina’s sword impaling the man with the hammer.
No decision
Sorry for taking this long, I had a couple of surprising occurrences this weekend that took my time, plus this was a bit longer part than usually. And also sorry for a second no-choices part in a row, but I'm sure you understand the reason XD
Well, that was a great part! Certainly worth the wait
I'm a bit worried for Myke though, especially with this being his last part in the chapter. I can't say this will lead out to be that good for him, considering the numbers of smallfolk compared to the guards, commander and septon. Here's hopes that I'm wrong.
Oh man, Myke
I mean, I'm sure he's not going to die here, but still, this is bad, this is really bad. It seems they chose a horrible time to travel to the Blackmont lands. I also remember that this name that had been shouted by the peasants, Karsan Taller, has previously been mentioned by Maester Mortin in Gwendis' latest part. I guess this guy's going to be a pretty big villain for the Blackmont storylines, for Myke and probably for Naemon in particular. Yet another reason to be happy that Gwendis is getting the hell out of there. As for the part itself, my suspicions against the Septon seems to have been unfounded. I was almost sure it would be that way, since there was no real reason to distrust him in the first place, but now that the danger didn't come from him but from the peasants, I think I've been proven wrong. Still, I hope Myke's not going to be wounded too badly.
I said to sleep in the mansion, but I think only one other person agreed with me. If they slept in the mansion, they probably would not be in this predicament.
Pfff, I hope he is not dead :-( Nice part!
The part definitely would've been different with choosing the mansion. They would've actually been on the platform when the riot had begun, which obviously would've been a safer place than in the middle of the crowd.
Well, I'd make the same choice, but was a bit late for voting. Anyways - I'm surprised that mansion option was so unpopular, I thought it'd be clear voting in its favor.
Well, I'd make the same choice, but was a bit late for voting. Anyways - I'm surprised that mansion option was so unpopular, I thought it'd be clear voting in its favor.
Wow, now this I was certainly not expecting. What on the surface seemed like a minor choice was actually a pretty big choice for Myke's storyline. It seems as if voting for Myke to stay in the mansion would have spared him from being right in the thick of the fighting where literally anything can happen. With that said, this was a great part! It shows that this Karsan Taller is a serious threat and it will be interesting to see how Benedict and House Blackmont are able to combat a very dangerous threat like a peasant uprising which is coming at a very awful time for them. When it comes to Myke, I would imagine he will be alright and the guards will hopefully defeat the peasants but getting it right in the head with a hammer is obviously not good and hopefully Myke will recover quickly so he can continue his mission.
Once again no voting to close, but I just wanted to inform that the next part will most likely be ready today!
And this one should even have a decision to make 
It's a Jamison PoV, his last in this chapter - we are really getting close to the end
Anyway, I trust his storyline is pretty fresh on everyone's mind, but small reminder: he is in Hellgate Hall, negotiating with King Lucifer Dryland about an alliance against the Martells. He offered financial support, asking Clearhaven (port town from southern coast) to be given to Daynes, but Lucifer demanded military support or the negotiations are over. You voted for Jamison to call Lucifer's bluff.
Jamison
King Lucifer stared at him with angered gaze, but Prince Jamison just let out an amused sigh, which made the King frown even harder.
“Come on now, Lucifer.” Jamison said, trying to sound as calm as he could. “We both know this alliance is more important to you than it is to me. You will be in desperate need of our supplies soon enough, so better not throw it away now.”
Lucifer slammed his fist to the table in a fit of rage. “You don’t understand, do you, boy?” He growled, but Jamison kept on a calm face. “You come here, to my halls, claiming that Clearhaven belongs to you, and that I can’t survive without your help!” The King shook his head furiously. “Perhaps we should ask our ancestors who was it that won the last war!”
Jamison let out a dry little chuckle and crossed his arms. “That’s in the history, Lucifer.” He remarked with a smirk. “Perhaps you should turn your eyes to the future, if there even is one for you.” As he said this Jamison could see the King of Brimstone boiling with anger, clenching his fists and staring at him with fury.
“What are you implying Prince Jamison?” Lord Harrion Uller asked sternly, stony expression on his wrinkled face, and for a moment the hall was filled with tense silence. “He means that this Kingdom stands upon the edge of a knife, one wrong move and it is history.” Ser Rolan Nightfall broke the silence with cold but calm words. “No heir, surrounded by enemies, and a king too stubborn to grasp for the help when it is offered to him.” Lucifer closed his eyes in frustration, but Lord Tiddle let out a small laugh.
“Your concern for the Kingdom of Brimstone is completely unfounded.” Bedwyck stated with arrogant tone, making Jamison roll his eyes. “But perhaps it would be better, for both kingdoms, to be allies rather than enemies.” As Lord Tiddle said this, he turned subtly towards his king, who finally opened his eyes again. Lucifer took in a couple of breaths, gazing at the surface of the table in front of him.
“Perhaps I have been too… rash, with my statements.” Lucifer spoke up with a stern look on his eyes. “But I’m sure you understand that what you are asking for is no small thing. Giving away trade port like Clearhaven means that I’m expecting much from this financial support of yours.” Jamison nodded to the King’s words, a small smirk on his face. “Of course, Your Grace.” He said quietly, and Lucifer narrowed his eyes. “And I’m still not sure if I can even trust your word, Sword of the Night.” The King spoke quietly, eyeing Jamison with suspicion.
“You don’t have to trust me, Your Grace.” Jamison replied with a smirk. “I am only here to speak for my father, if it were for me I’d find another way to take Clearhaven back.” Jamison could see the anger flashing through the face of Lucifer. “Well then, I guess we’ll stay for one night and then head back towards Starfall.” Jamison spoke with a touch of relief, feeling thankful that this mission seemed to be a success. He knew his father would be proud, he knew this would raise him to a higher status.
“No.” The King said coldly, raising his chin, and looking Jamison to the eye. “If you want this alliance to happen, I have one more demand for you.” Jamison furrowed his eyebrows, but gave the King a nod. “Alright then, spit it out.” He said lazily.
“The most useful thing about this alliance of ours, to me at least, is that now those who side with the Martells won’t be opposing just one but two great kings. Being the enemy of both Lucifer Dryland and Vorian Dayne is certainly a terrifying scenario for anyone.” Lucifer tapped the table with his fingers as he spoke. “But they need to hear that from a Dayne, not from me.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?” Jamison asked, raising his eyebrow. “Simple, I want you and your men to meet some lords who might still be considering what sides to take.” Lucifer replied with a small smirk on his face. “The Gargalens shouldn’t be hard to convince, but the Vaiths might be sympathizing the Martells. That doesn’t matter though, because as long as the Allyrions side with me, the Vaiths won’t dare to oppose them.”
“So you need me to secure the Salt Shore, Vaith and Godsgrace for you.” Jamison stated with tired tone. “Precisely.” Lucifer replied sharply. “If you want Clearhaven, you will kneel to me and work in my service until this war is over, meaning you will convince these petty lords to do the same.”
Jamison turned to look at Ser Laroy Ladybright, who sighed but gave him a nod. “So be it then.” Jamison said coldly, and a grin was formed on Lucifer’s face. “So be it.” Jamison repeated with a sigh. “I’ll go do your bidding, King Lucifer, but you better remember to keep your end of the deal.”
“Oh, of course, my Prince.” The King said with a mocking tone. “And your father better do the same, because Clearhaven won’t be handed over to you until I’ve got that financial support.”
“Sure.” Jamison muttered with grim tone. “And where is it that you want me to go, Your Grace?” He asked this with a small touch of mockery in his words, which Lucifer seemed to spot as he frowned at him.
“I need you to go to Godsgrace and Salt Shore.” He answered sternly. “Gargalens hold the Salt Shore, and it would be dangerous if they’d let the Martells sail there without resistance. And Godsgrace is the center of trade in the lands between here and the eastern coast, so the support of the Allyrions is also important.”
“I can’t be in two places at the same time though.” Jamison remarked with a chuckle. “And this war will begin soon, I might not make it to both those places before they have chosen their sides.”
“Then send one of your men to the other place, I don’t care, as long as he represents the Daynes.” Lucifer spoke with a bored tone, and Jamison let out a sigh. He wouldn’t be going home, not yet, the mission was still unfinished. So, where next?
“I can be the one to represent the Daynes on the other location.” Rolan Nightfall said with a dutiful tone, and Jamison gave him a small nod. Then he let out a sigh and nodded again – he had made his decision.
[Godsgrace] [Salt Shore]
[Godsgrace]
Man, Jamison had balls the size of Essos in this part
Calling Lucifer Dryland not only out on his bullshit, but also by his first name, that is pretty damn badass. And as expected, he was bluffing. Glad to see something worked out in this case. As for the choice, I have chosen Godsgrace particularly because of the information Lucifer revealed. If House Allyrion sides with him, House Vaith won't dare to oppose him either, meaning the support of two houses instead of one. I'm not entirely sure where my sympathies during this war should lie, since Lucifer is a major jerk, but since I like Jamison, I'd say my sympathies lie with him. Sort of, at least.
[Salt Shore]
I think it would be a bad idea for them to let the Martell's have access to the ports there. Plus, it was implied that Jamison could probably easily convince the Gargalens to join his side.
[Salt Shore]
All three of my houses are coming up soon... Man. Well, being biased I'm going with Saltshore, considering they are on the sea, they have ships. The Martell's no longer have ships, as far as I'm aware. I think a naval advantage would certainly be of use, if they wished to lay siege on Sandship by the sea, there would be nothing to stand in their way but burnt wrecks.
At any rate, this part was great! Jamison shows his badass, but I think his attitude will get him in trouble some time soon. He may have been able to take on Lucifer's bluff, but I fear if he were to pull off the same stunt with the Yronwood's, he might lose his head.
[Godsgrace]
[Godsgrace] Well it is safe to say that this is yet another excellent part and a great continuation to their negotiation
Jamison and Lucifer both have very dominant personalities and it was pretty fun to see them clash! It seemed that it was almost shocking to Lucifer that he encountered someone who can be just as hard to deal with as he is at times 
When it comes to the choice, The other readers have given excellent reasons for choosing their choices on both sides but I am thinking that Jamison going to Godsgrace would be a pretty good choice here. It would potentially win the support of two houses instead of one. It is also mentioned the Salt Shore would probably be easier to convince so Ser Rolan could probably take care of turning the Gargalens into allies and going to Godsgrace could also potentially stop trade to the eastern coast.
[Godsgrace]
Voting is closed!
Jamison will travel to Godsgrace, and meet House Allyrion. So, that's one thing to look forward to in the next chapter
With his negotiation with King Lucifer, Jamison has shown some real potential in politics, we'll see if his success continues in Chapter 2.
Anyway, we'll continue with the last part of Dianna in this chapter. Just a quick recap: She traveled to Lemonwood with Javor and ~30 other Martell soldiers, escorting Adian Dalt (nephew of Lord Darin) to home. The main reason they came there was to help the Dalts with the problems they are having with bandits on their lands. It has become clear that these are not just some random bandits, but well organized and led by Efran Sand aka the Bandit Lord, who has a claim on Lemonwood. Lord Darin wanted Dianna and her soldiers to investigate the town, to possibly find links to Efran, or at least new information. However, he expressed his doubt that "a bunch of women" could be trusted with such an important mission. You voted for Dianna to give him a rude answer for that.
Could be ready today, perhaps more likely tomorrow.
Dianna
Dianna took a couple steps closer to the Lord of Lemonwood, angry glare on her face. “These ‘bunch of women’ are all trained warriors, they are toughened by many hardships and have fought their way through many battles.” Dianna hissed, seeing the eyes of Lord Darin widening. “So I advise you to leave your petty insults to yourself, lordling. Princess Nymeria has been so kind to offer her help to you, and you should bloody well be thankful for that.” As Dianna stopped talking, the look on Darin Dalt’s face was something between shocked and baffled.
“I am sorry if I insulted you.” The Lord said, though his tone was hardly apologetic. “This is just… new to me, that’s all. I’ve only met one or two capable woman warriors before this, so you understand if I have my doubts.” He explained, and Dianna let out sigh.
“We understand.” Javor joined the conversation with a relaxed tone. “I can admit I had my doubts as well when the Rhoynar first arrived, but I can assure you that these women know what they are doing – and Dianna here is a warrior to the core.” Dianna glanced towards Javor, seeing a happy grin on his face. Darin also flashed a small smile, though it didn’t look as genuine.
“Alright then.” He said, still a touch of doubt in his words. “I will trust you with this mission. Go and find me some answers.”
-
Dianna walked down the main street of Lemonwood, with Javor and two young soldiers, a Rhoynar girl named Lesyra and boy named Gerrar from Prince Mors’ guard.
“You were quite merciless with Lord Darin.” Javor stated calmly, a small smile on his face, and Dianna shrugged. “That’s what you get for asking dumb questions.” She grunted, glancing at the alleyways that diverged from the main street.
“I don’t think he meant to insult you, or anyone for that matter.” Javor replied, keeping his voice calm. Dianna however ignored him, looking at a brothel she could see at the end of one of the alleys. “Javor, you go there with Gerrar.” She commanded with decisive tone, pointing at the brothel. Javor let out a small chuckle, and Dianna could see the eyes of the young and lanky man widening in excitement. “You are going there to ask questions, not to fuck whores.” She hissed with a cold look on her brown eyes, and Gerrar tensed up, giving her a nervous nod.
“Of course.” Javor said with a sly smile on his face, and Dianna didn’t even want to think what he had in mind. “So, where will you and Lesyra go?” He asked casually.
“We’ll make our way to the harbors.” She answered calmly. “These two places should be full of stories and rumors about this Bandit Lord – let’s just hope we’ll find something useful.” Dianna spoke with firm tone, eyeing at Javor, Gerrar and Lesyra.
“See ya later!” Javor quipped gleefully, walking towards the alleyway, Gerrar following him with quick steps. Dianna let out a sigh and turned to Lesyra. Lesyra was a short girl at her late teens, a constantly stern and nervous look on her green eyes, and her black hair tied to a bun. Dianna didn’t know her very well; she had only had couple brief conversations with her in the past, but the image she had given was that she was a dutiful girl if anything.
“Alright then, let’s go to the harbors.” Dianna said softly, and the young girl gave her a small bow. “Yes, captain.” Lesyra answered with tensed up tone, and they kept walking. Dianna had sent other soldiers to investigate other places from the town, but she was a bit skeptical that they would find anything of interest.
In silence the two women made their way to the harbors, where people were selling their goods from the stalls, while almost a dozen of merchant ships stood anchored at the sea. Some of them seemed a bit damaged, most likely because of the earlier storm.
Dianna’s eyes traveled from a foreign looking fat man who was selling silks and carpets, to an old woman who was selling pots and jars, to a young man selling weaponry. “Who do you think we should go to first?” Dianna asked casually, looking at Lesyra who looked surprised that her opinion was being asked.
“I… I would go to the man selling the weapons.” She said with a bit of uncertainty in her words, and Dianna smirked. “Because he is young and handsome?” Dianna asked jokingly, which made Lesyra blush. “N-no, because, um, because…” She stuttered, but Dianna cut her off.
“I was only joking.” She said gently. “Let’s go to him, he might be someone who is interested in the Bandit Lord and this whole conflict. He does sell weapons after all.” Lesyra nodded nervously to Dianna’s words, and they made their way to the stall of this young man. Many daggers were on display, castle forged steel, some of them ornamented lavishly with gold. There were also couple short swords, and an axe. The man had a trimmed full beard and a short dark hair. His eyes were brown and he stood well over six feet tall, a stern look on his well-structured face.
“Hello, ladies.” The man said with his calm voice, which sounded somewhat hollow and cold to Dianna. Lesyra clearly didn’t notice anything like that, as her eyes were widened in adoring. “Looking for some new weapons?”
“Actually we just want to ask something.” Dianna replied, studying the face of the man. She could see the slight disappointment in his eyes. “The Lord sent you?” He asked quietly.
“We are sent here by Princess Nymeria, to solve a problem.” Dianna answered calmly, keeping an emotionless look on her eyes. “Oh, and this problem is Efran, right?” The man let out a sigh as he asked this. Dianna raised an eyebrow, trying to figure out what could this man’s opinion of the Bastard’s Bastard be.
“Yes.” She said quietly. “Do you know anything about him?” The weapon merchant let out a joyless chuckle for Dianna’s question. “Everyone does.” He answered coldly. “A bastard raised by the pirates, lives in an abandoned fort in the desert, dyes his hair blue and has an eyepatch. His men raid villages and small towns.”
“And have you ever seen him or his men?” Dianna asked, though she could see the man wasn’t very keen on continuing this conversation. “No, I haven’t.” He answered strictly. “And now, move along, there are some actual customers coming.” Dianna glanced behind her back and saw a middle-aged man dressed in fine clothes walking towards the stall. She gave the man a stern nod and turned away, gesturing Lysera to do the same.
“Well he didn’t have much to offer.” Dianna muttered as they walked away, looking at the other stalls. “At least now we know how does the Bandit Lord look like.” Lysera said shyly, and Dianna gave her a nod. “Perhaps, or perhaps it was just bullshit. He even admitted himself that he has never actually seen Efran.” Dianna’s words were grim, and the look on Lysera’s eyes changed to somewhat disappointed.
“Let’s go to someone else.” Dianna said, trying to sound a bit more cheerful. “Let’s see, there’s a man selling fish and oysters. That one sells fruits, and next to him…” Next to the fruit stall was sitting an old man with a wooden platter in front of him, and nothing else.
“He is probably some kind of beggar.” Lysera observed quietly. “I wonder why the man selling fruits hasn’t shooed him off.” Dianna spoke with pondering tone. “Let’s go take a closer look.” They walked closer to the fruit stall, and both the man selling the fruits and the old beggar on the ground turned their eyes to them. The man selling the fruits looked at them like any merchant excited to sell their goods, but the old man sitting on the ground was different – his look was genuinely interested. He eyed at Dianna and Lysera like he was seeing something different from the ordinary.
“What would you like to buy?” The fruit merchant asked with a wide grin, and Dianna tossed him a copper. “I’d like a blood orange.” She said calmly, and the merchant handed one to her with a nod. “There you go.” He said with a friendly tone.
“Do either of you happen to know anything about the Bandit Lord?” Dianna asked casually, peeling the blood orange. The atmosphere changed notably, the look on the fruit merchant’s face was now visibly uncomfortable, whilst the beggar turned even more interested.
“Oh, I know the basics.” The fruit merchant muttered awkwardly, and Dianna turned her look to the beggar. “And you?” She asked, which brought a wide grin on the old beggar’s face. He was clearly at least on his seventies, with tanned and wrinkled skin, bald head and dressed in ragged clothes – though he seemed somehow a bit cleaner than an ordinary beggar. Perhaps that’s why the fruit merchant lets him stay there.
“I know many stories about Efran Sand.” The beggar said with a gentle smile. “And is there any true to these stories?” Dianna asked, narrowing her eyes. “Who are you even? And how do you know these stories?”
“You have a lot of questions, young woman.” The old man answered with a soft chuckle. “My name is Hors, and I am a storyteller.” He explained. “Mostly I tell my stories to children, but toss a couple coppers and I can tell something for you too.” Dianna shook her head for Hors’ words.
“I am looking for information, true information, not fairytales.” She spoke strictly, and Hors nodded to her. “Often the truth is more exciting than the fairytales.” He stated calmly. “I can’t promise you that all the stories I’ve heard of him are true, but they certainly aren’t fairytales either.” Dianna let out a sigh, and sat opposed to the beggar, tossing three coppers to his wooden platter. Hors smiled to them, as Lysera also sat down.
“I assume you know the story of Jaxar Sand and his rebellion.” Hors started, and Dianna nodded to him. “On the day that the father of Lord Darin and Jaxar allegedly legalized his bastard son, Jaxar, on his deathbed there were three men to bear witness to it. Jaxar himself, Maester Edgar and Ser Byrron Granit. When Jaxar’s rebellion begun, the first of these three to fall was the maester. No one knows the truth, but rumors say that he was poisoned by the supporters of Darin. In the last battle of the war fell Jaxar himself, but for a while no one knew where had Ser Byrron disappeared. That changed when the news arrived to Lemonwood that Byrron had traveled to Stepstones, the son of Jaxar with him.” Hors took a breath in, staying silent for a moment.
“And?” Dianna rushed him, which made the beggar smile. “And then Efran Sand grew up amongst the pirates, Ser Byrron always on his side.” He said. “I have many stories from that time, but I expect that is not what you are here for. As you know, a while ago Efran returned to Dorne, to the lands of Lemonwood. He begun to make reputation, being called Bandit Lord or the Bastard’s Bastard. But how does he do all this?” Hors gazed from Lysera to Dianna as he asked this, and Dianna gave him a shrug.
“He has Ser Byrron to thank for it.” He answered his own question smoothly. “Byrron is the one who knows these lands, and some say that without Byrron Efran would’ve never even been interested in finishing what his father started. Ser Byrron comes from House Granit, and their small fort, known as Desertstone, is south and west from here, middle of the desert next to a small oasis. Ser Byrron would never be welcomed there, his old family supports Lord Darin. But Desertstone was never the only stronghold of the Granits, and Ser Byrron if anyone knows this. They have seven small strongholds on their lands, most of them long abandoned – small towers and such.”
“And you are saying that Efran Sand’s hideout is in one of these strongholds?” Dianna asked, her voice now genuinely interested. “There are rumors, yes.” Hors said. “They say the men of the Bastard’s Bastard ride on those lands, steal and murder at night, while their leader sits at one of those abandoned towers.”
“Better not believe everything he says.” An old male voice said behind them. They all turned to look, and saw a frail old man with a long white beard and hair, and a vivid look on his turquoise eyes. The old man was wearing scuffed old clothes – dark green trousers, leather sandals and washed-out blue tunic. Dianna glanced at Hors, who seemed amazed at the sight of this man who had to be at least ninety years old.
“And who are you?” Dianna asked with confused tone, and the man let out a small chuckle. “Oh, no one important, my dear.” He said, and his voice was surprisingly powerful for his age. “Just a wanderer named Wylie, who happened to hear your little conversation.”
“You… You said not to believe everything he says.” Lysera spoke shyly, and Wylie smiled at her. “I did, but I don’t mean that as an insult. He is a storyteller, the more exciting the story, the better for him.” Wylie took a couple steps closer to them as he spoke. “I don’t know much about Efran Sand, but I have lived long, seen many rebellions, and known many men like this Bandit Lord.”
“So, what are you saying?” Dianna’s tone was skeptical; she wasn’t sure what to make of this old man. “I am saying that this Efran is a pirate – as are most of his followers. He wouldn’t crawl to some small tower in the middle of the desert, he would stay at the coast, where the sea is always close to him.” There was something dreamy in those last words, and a soft smile took over Wylie’s face.
“He could be right.” Hors admitted with gentle tone. “But I have heard rumors of them being at the lands of the Granits, and there is always at least a piece of truth to every rumor.” Dianna let out a sigh – soon she would have to go look for Efran Sand. But will I find him from the desert or the coast?
“Hey!” Dianna now heard a familiar voice calling, and they could see Javor and Gerrar walking towards them, looking slightly baffled at the sight. “What did you learn?” Dianna asked strictly, and Javor let out a sigh.
“Hardly anything useful.” He said tiredly. “Some say his left eye is covered, others say it’s the right one. Some say he is deformed and ugly, others say he is the most handsome man in Dorne. Some say that House Granit hides him in their castle, others say he has no stronghold because he always stays on the move.” Javor spoke with monotone words. “And you – did you learn anything?” He asked, and Dianna bridled. “Hardly.” She replied coldly.
[Search the lands of House Granit] [Search the coast]
[Search the coast]
I'm gonna side with Wylie here, just because of reasons. Though I certainly think he brings up a grand point. If Efran's crew are mostly pirates, they belong to the sea, or at least to the coast. Perhaps the Granit's would know more, but as far as I can see it would only appear we would search the lands of House Granit, rather than speak with them. Anyway, it all seems like a wild goose chase to me, but I'm gonna stick with this one.
[Search the lands of House Granit]
Hehe, it was great how Dianna roasted Darin for his comment. I'm really liking her, so far she is my favourite in the eastern storyline
And I must say, this Efran Sand sounds more intriguing with every new thing we learn about him. A blue-haired, one-eyed bandit lord living in the middle of the desert, that is certainly cool. I am greatly looking forward for the time where we actually get to meet him. After the build-up, you made me hyped for that guy!
[Search the lands of House Granit]
While Wylie has brought up a good point, I think Hors mentioned another strong argument. This Byrron Granit, he's the key to Efran's knowledge of these lands and he would probably rather reside in one of these strongholds than the coast. Another thing in favour of this option is that there is probably only a limited number of abandoned strongholds, as well as someone who has to know all of them, while the number of possible hideouts near the coast can hardly be estimated. Instead of going on a wild goose chase all along the coast, they should work methodically and check these old strongholds one by one.
[Search the lands of House Granit]
[Search the coast]
I think Wylie makes a good point. If a majority of his followers are pirates, it would make sense for them to stay near the sea.
[Search the lands of House Granit] Wylie does bring up a good point but at the same time, it is probably best to search some specific areas like the small towers of House Granit rather than the entire coast where they probably would not have much of an idea where to start. Either way it is going to be tough to find Efran and his mean but checking specific strongholds seem like the best course of action to take here.
[Search the coast]
Voting is closed!
Dianna will search the lands of House Granit. This decision obviously determined very much what kind of storyline will Dianna have in the next chapter, and I'm actually quite happy with this choice, for reasons
And this time there is no need for recap, because the next part will be a brand new PoV. I know, I know, a pretty strange timing to introduce a new PoV, so close to the ending of the chapter. But there is a reason I bring this character in now rather than in the next chapter - and that reason is mostly the small time skip between the chapters. Anyway, you can expect this part within couple days. However, before that we should have another great H&L
Nymeria's War: Histories & Lore
Naemon Blackmont – Knighthood
It was true what they said, every man had a weakness. More than one, in most cases. During the tourneys he had attended, during the duels he had fought, Naemon had learned that this was especially true for knights. He had fought against knights who were strong, but too slow to land a hit. He had fought against knights who were fast, but who barely managed to lift a proper sword, even less so to land a hit that actually hurt.
Even men like his cousin Jamison, undoubtedly strong and fast as Naemon begrudgingly had to admit, had their flaws. Their biggest one was overconfidence in their skills. They were unaware of their weaknesses or consciously refused to see them and their arrogance was a weakness in itself. Of course, Naemon freely admitted that he was not without flaws either. In his case, his biggest weakness were redheads.
One particularly fine example of a redhead sat right next to him in this very moment, on the large, luxurious settee in the centre of his room and Naemon found it hard to focus in her presence. Her name was Anya and she was Blackmont's newest stable girl, as well as the prettiest by far. Her hair was shimmering like molten copper in the light of the candles that brightly illuminated the room. Her light blue eyes were shining in a breathtaking way whenever she laughed, so Naemon had made it his personal mission to make her laugh as often as possible. Add to that a delicate, slightly freckled nose and Naemon had to admit that he had a serious crush on her, at least for this evening. The wine would do the rest, it was a sweet, but strong bottle imported from the Arbor, as delicious as it was expensive.
“Well, don't you want to answer the question?”, another voice, soft and female, sounded and Naemon sighed, as he stopped to admire Anya's beauty and instead focussed on his other weakness, looking at him from the armchair across the small table. She was not less easy on the eyes, arguably even more so, but unfortunately she was related to him. And like the good big sister she was, Gwendis naturally decided to make things as complicated as possible for him tonight. It was not that Anya was a very complicated person, quite the contrary to be honest, but unfortunately for him, Gwendis could be very, very complicated in situations like this.
“Forgive me, sweet sister”, Naemon said. “I was busy with admiring my beautiful company” He gave Anya a wink and the stable girl blushed. “My... my prince”, she gasped and her eyes shined happily. Gwendis meanwhile simply rolled her own eyes with slight annoyance. “Smooth, brother. Charming even”, she said and reached down for her cup, filled with Naemon's expensive wine. “Though you used the same excuse the last three times” She took a sip from her cup and smirked.
“The last three times?”, Anya asked. How... how many times do you... you know...?” Naemon gulped and a smile that was as apologetic as it was charming formed on his face. “I am an admirer of beauty”, he said and stared daggers at his sister. Gwendis chuckled, obviously finding his struggles highly amusing. “That is a very polite way of putting it”, she answered.
Out of the corner of his eyes, Naemon saw that Anya was obviously confused by their little exchange. Well, he had not taken an interest in her for her intelligence. A confident smile formed on his face. “Mylady, have I ever told you about knighthood?”, he asked, in the attempt to change the topic.
Immediately, Gwendis rolled her purple eyes. “Here we go again”, she sighed and Naemon glared at her. “If you don't want to hear it, you can always leave”, he said, though Gwendis shook her head. “Oh, there's no way I'm going to miss this”, she said and reached for the bottle, filling her cup until it was almost overflowing, with Naemon's wine. “Just, probably not entirely sober”
“Right”, Naemon mumbled, before he smiled at Anya. “So, what do you know about knights?” The young woman gave him an insecure smile and she looked stunning while doing so. “Not... not much, my prince”, she stuttered. “They are warriors”
Naemon shook his head. “A common misinterpretation”, he corrected her gently. “Knights are, first and foremost, defenders. A warrior's purpose is to fight. A defender's purpose meanwhile is to protect” He made a large handwave. “Women, children, the innocent, everyone in need”, he proclaimed and he meant what he said. “This is a knight's duty. It's his true calling”
“But... can't a warrior fight to protect others as well?”, Anya asked and Gwendis raised an eyebrow in a slightly impressed way. “You know, I like her”, she said. “She brings up some good points” Naemon gave her a nod. “Yes, that's true”, he answered. “But at heart, every fight of a true warrior ends with the death of his opponent. Protecting others comes second”
He glanced down at his own glass of wine, but decided against drinking more, at least for now. “Killing someone is not always knightly”, he told her. “A true knight must consider every fight individually. This is his duty, he has been charged to be just in the name of the Father” Mentioning one of the Seven had the effect he aimed for and Anya's eyes widened with astonishment. “So, not every knight is just?”, she asked and Naemon smiled. “If every knight would be truly just, then the world would be a far better place”, he answered. “Sadly, there are only a selected few who follow this principle and who can rightfully consider themselves true knights”
“You do?”, Anya asked and this time, Naemon gave her a proud nod. “Ever since I was knighted, two years ago”, he said and noticed Gwendis' smirk. “Don't you dare”, he whispered into her direction. He knew, she'd bring up the ceremony, which had honestly been a mess. After Father had forbidden him to squire for his uncle, Vorian Dayne, he ended up squiring for the elderly Lord Tomard Blackadder, who had already been unable to hold his water by then. He frowned as he remembered the terrible smell of the late lord, whose bladder had been the only thing even weaker than his brain in his final years.
Audibly, he cleared his throat and as he glanced at Anya, she gave him a coy grin. “But yes, I think I may call myself a just man”. The thought of being a just king one day sent shivers down his spine. “That said, I consider myself as brave as I am just”, he boasted to change the topic. “After all, I was charged to be brave, in the name of the warrior”
“I remember a story of particular bravery”, Gwendis mentioned and Naemon glanced at her. “It was shortly after he lost his first tournament at the tender age of sixteen. He was good, but his seventh opponent during the tourney was Jamison Dayne” Now Naemon narrowed his eyes. “I think Lady Anya would rather hear how I unhorsed the previous six”
He glanced at the girl and, to his annoyance, noticed an all too familiar expression. “Jamison Dayne?”, she asked with a gasp and Naemon sighed. “Yeah, cousin Jamison. He's really not that impressive”, he claimed and Gwendis shook her head. “Well, he unhorsed you, with relative ease, as I must add” Naemon narrowed his eyes. “He got lucky”, he insisted.
“The Sword of the Night...”, Anya said awestruck and Naemon sent a glare towards Gwendis for even mentioning him. “And you faced him out of your own free will?” Slowly, Naemon gave her a nod and he noticed how impressed she was. “By the Seven, this is so brave”, she gasped and now, a smirk formed on his face. “As I said, I was charged to be brave”, he answered.
“Yes, crying tears of bravery after your first defeat”, Gwendis chuckled, though thankfully she had lowered her voice and Anya wasn't paying enough attention to her. “Brave, just...”, the young stable girl said. “Does that mean you are a true knight?”
“Yes and no, sweet Anya”, Naemon said and as he grinned at her, she blushed delicately. “I am a true knight, but not only because I am brave and just” A feeling of pride went through him and his confident smile met Gwendis' expression of playful mockery. “At least as true as Uncle Vorian”, he added. “Don't you agree, Gwen?”
“I don't think anyone can be as much a true knight as Uncle Vorian”, Gwendis answered, which was something Naemon actually had to agree with. Then, her expression grew more serious. “But you are on a good way”, she admitted. “Say, why don't you tell her the story about your encounter on the road to Gravesend?”
Her suggestion took Naemon by surprise. It was not a story he usually brought up, but at the same time, it was not a story he was ashamed of, quite the contrary. It was simply a story he never thought anyone else could find interesting. Well, aside from Gwendis of course, who never grew tired of it. For a moment, he looked at her, trying to determine if this was one of her games, though he quickly realized that she was actually serious about her request. He was sure of this, since he knew her better than anyone else.
“I believe Anya would like to hear a story of you actually being a true knight”, she said. “Not of you being second best at some tourney. Say, is it required of a knight to fight in tournaments?” Naemon shook his head, which slightly confused Anya. “But... isn't every knight out to win glory?”, she asked. “To achieve great victories?”
This time, Naemon gave her a smile. “Many knights are only living such a life for the glory, it's true”, he admitted. He hid the fact that he himself appreciated this glory as well. “They fight on tournaments, march to war. But in doing so, many of them loose track of what a knight is truly meant to be”
He smirked as he stretched his arms, only to subtly put his left one around her shoulders. She did not tense up under his touch, which was a good sign. “There is more than one definition of a great victory. And knights, they are defenders”, he explained. “They defend the young and innocent in the name of the Mother and women in the name of the Maiden”
He noticed that he had her undivided attention by now. “But I don't wish to bore you, mylady”, he said. “I have quite a number of stories to tell about knighthood, so why don't you choose. There's the story Gwendis mentioned, but I could also tell you of the tourney at Skyreach”
“In which you became second, after Jamison of course”, Gwendis said. “I doubt anyone wishes to hear how you got knocked into the dust by your own cousin” A smirk flashed across her face. “Admittedly, I can't get enough of it, but I'm not the focus of your attention right now. Why don't we let Anya decide?”
Under Gwendis' questioning stare, Anya gulped, but when his sister showed her charming smile, the stable girl relaxed again. “I... I think the story you mentioned sounds interesting. About the road to Gravesend”, she said and Gwendis' smile got wider. “You got a precious one there, brother”, she complimented him. “I don't think I can remember anyone else ever choosing this over one of your tournament stories”
“You did”, Naemon reminded her and Gwendis gave him a nod, drinking another sip from the painfully expensive wine. “Yeah, but I'm special”, she said with a wink. “The wine is splendid, by the way, don't you agree, Anya?”
The young woman looked up and at Gwendis' confident smile. She blushed again, before she reciprocated the smile, although thin and shy. “It's the best I ever had, my princess”, she mumbled and Naemon whistled gently to regain her attention. “Alright, it's story time”, he said.
Once he was sure that Anya was listening and Gwendis was silent for once, he started to speak. “It happened slightly over a year ago. I just turned seventeen and returned from my second tourney, the one at Uplands in the Reach”, he explained. “I had passed through Gravesend the day before and was currently looking for a place to spend the night. It was dark and rainy, the wind howled through the mountains and after a scalding day, the night was chillingly cold”
Naemon leant forwards. “That's where I heard it. Faintly in the distance, a desperate cry for help”, he whispered and Anya looked up. “I immediately turned my horse into the direction of the cries and rushed to find their source. After a short while, I spotted three figures, each of them holding crude weapons, slowly beating the live out of a fourth figure on the ground, who was merely able to whimper. The three saw me coming of course, my sword drawn, charging at them. Gotta admit, they were smart, because as soon as I came closer, they ran away”
“So you chased them down?”, Anya asked and Naemon shook his head. “I let them go”, he said and she seemed confused by his answer. “No, really, I did not chase them. Instead, I rather stayed with the woman they had been beating almost to death. She was barely conscious and would have died if I wouldn't have stayed with her”
Finally, she understood and her eyes widened. “You rather saved her live”, she realized. Naemon nodded with pride. “Indeed. That's what a knight should do”, he explained. “It's not so much about killing others, it's about defending those in need. The young, the innocent, women and children”
“And this woman you saved, she survived?”, Anya asked and Naemon smiled. “She's fine”, he assured her. “Even better, so is her child. When I turned her around to inspect her wounds, I realized she had been shielding a young boy from these men. As fast as I could, I brought both of them back to Blackmont, where Maester Mortin tended to their wounds”
Naemon and Gwendis exchanged a look and his sister smiled at him. “Once she got better, we learned that she came from Oakswood and tried to run to her family at Gravesend, to escape from a soldier that abused her. The man and his friends caught up and they had every intention of killing her, at least until my little brother arrived and they saw the sigil on his armour”, she explained. “Later on, I arranged for her to be brought to Gravesend, to her family and far away from the bastard that hurt her. Last time I heard of her, she married a cobbler who treats her well. But without Naemon, she would have died back then”
When Naemon looked back at Anya, he noticed the look of awe in her eyes. “So, this is what a true knight is about”, she stated and he gave her a nod. “Far better than the Sword of the Night, eh?”, he asked and she gave him an enthusiastic nod. “Much better”, she agreed quickly.
Now, Naemon chuckled. “That's not to say my cousin or the others are bad knights. A man can be a knight without aspiring for true knighthood”, he explained. “But an endless wave of tournament, one bloody war after the other, that's not what it should be about. At heart, I believe a knight should focus less on killing and more on saving”
“It's a good thing that you don't even like killing”, Gwendis said and Naemon glanced at her. From the smirk on her face, even he had a hard time reading her and he was not sure if it was subtle mockery, or genuine appreciation. Quickly, he decided for the latter. He knew Gwendis' own views on this and how they aligned with his own.
That said, he wisely decided to remain silent about it. Just now, he had Anya exactly where he wanted her to be, awestruck at him, the hero. She'd be disappointed to learn that his story was only half of the truth. It was true that he remained behind to help the woman and everything he told her was his deepest conviction. Saving a life was always more important than taking one.
However, he also stayed with her to avoid killing the men that tormented her. In fact, he abhorred the very thought. It was one thing to fight straw men, but fighting a human being, flesh and blood to the death, that was something else entirely. And despite all of his training, he never got to the point where he could believe that all men were made of straw. The thought of actually ending a human life, it was the source of nightmares for him. Naemon had no doubt that this was decidedly less heroic.
As he looked back at Anya, his smile had grown thinner, though she did not seem to mind. The way she looked at him, it caused his heart to beat faster and he could have lost himself in her eyes right now, just like he had lost himself in so many eyes before. His confidence was strong, though her beauty was even stronger and his smile grew nervous. “So... I, uh, hope my story has not bored you. It's not one I usually tell”
“Why not?”, she cut him off and he noticed that she had grown slightly bolder by now, a streak he appreciated. “Ah, I have made the experience that most people find it rather boring, compared to my other stories”, he explained. “They prefer to hear how I unhorsed four men during the joust of the tournament at Starfall, or defeated half a dozen during the melee of the tournament at Skyreach. This one lacks fights and blood and danger. It's not what others expect of a knight”
“I believe you have been very heroic”, Anya said, before her eyes widened, as she noticed that she had forgotten something. “My prince” Naemon smiled. “Naemon”, he offered and she gave him a nod. “Naemon”, she agreed.
Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw movement. Even though he wanted to remain focussed on Anya for the rest of the night, he turned his head, to see that Gwendis had raised from her chair. She had been drinking a lot of his wine, especially for a woman of her physique, but she stood remarkably steadfast and the look she gave him was clear and almost sober. “I believe I should leave you two alone”, she stated.
Now it was up to Naemon to grin. He could have let her go without a further word, but after the way she had made things harder for him the entire night, he just had to comment on the situation. “Oh, what is it, Gwenny? Are you jealous?”, he asked and slyly raised an eyebrow. “Or do you see anything you like?”
Gwendis glanced at Anya only slightly longer than necessary, before she slowly shook her head. “Hardly”, she stated, though Naemon noticed that her smile had grown considerably less confident. Not wanting to torment his sister any further, he gave her a nod. “It was nice having you here tonight, Gwendis”, he said wholeheartedly and she nodded. “Of course. You're lucky to have me”, she stated, before she turned around and walked to the door. “Close the door!”, Naemon yelled after her.
Of course she left it widely open. Naemon rolled his eyes, before he looked back at Anya. “I'm back in a minute”, he said and she gave him a quick nod, still staring at him in awe. She was quite something that she liked this story so much, he had to admit it. Most women preferred to hear of his victories against other knights. Gwendis was an exception, the only one he had met until tonight.
“My sweet sister”, he proclaimed loudly, to make sure she'd hear him out in the hallway. “The beautiful princess of Blackmont. Brilliantly bright, a model of decency, with impeccable manners” He made sure that his compliments sounded particularly hammy, as he put his hands on both side of the doorframe, to lean out of it and to glance to his right. Gwendis had stopped a few feet away, her back turned towards him. “Unable to close a fucking door”, he chuckled.
Gwendis glanced over her shoulder and their gazes met. “Enjoy your beautiful company”, she said in a jovial tone and Naemon raised an eyebrow. “Try not to think too much about my beautiful company”, he answered with a wide grin. A sly smirk formed on Gwendis' face. “Sleep well, Naemon”, she said and he gave her a nod. “See you tomorrow Gwen”, he answered.
Feeling especially cheerful, as well as glad to finally have some privacy, Naemon stepped back into his room, closing the door behind him and locking it, just to be sure that they wouldn't be disturbed. Then, with an eager look on his face, he turned around again. “Well then”, he said. “Where were we?”
This is just awesome!
Getting Naemon's insight to knighthood is of course interesting, but even more I enjoyed the chemistry between him and Gwendis. Also the mentions of Jamison and this rivalry they've got is a nice detail. Overall, this certainly gives me inspiration for writing Naemon's adventures to come in the future chapters
Great H&L. I think I sense something between this siblings, at least from one side.
Anyway, really enjoyed reading it!
Thanks a lot, I'm glad you enjoyed it! Took me long enough to finish this part, I hope the rest enjoys it as well
Though I'm not sure what you've sensed. If it is what I think it is, then you might be wrong, sort of. There was definitely some subtext I tried to include here though.
I'm very happy you enjoy it
And I agree, writing this interaction between him and Gwendis has been my highlight in both H&L's I've written so far and it's been a lot of fun to show how their interaction has changed over the years. With Jamison, it was something that dawned upon me during my talk with CM3434 (by the way, thanks for the inspiration on the topic 
), that Jamison and Naemon have actually pretty conflicting views on knighthood while still sharing roughly similar goals. Paired with your mention of Jamison in Gwendis' very first part in the proper story (where she mentioned that he and Naemon used be at each others throats a lot as children) and I decided to include it here in the part.
It is no problem, I am glad you chose to do this topic and like always you knocked it out of the park and it was an excellent H&L!
It was pretty cool seeing Gwendis & Naemon interact with one another in a light hearted manner without all of the chaos going on around them. I really enjoyed reading about Naemon's opinion on Knighthood since like you said, Naemon and Jamison do indeed have differing opinions on knighthood and the Gravesend story was truly amazing and ties in perfectly with what knighthood is about to Naemon. Of course, I also enjoyed the mention of Jamison and this little friendly rivalry of theirs is pretty neat. I also love this H&L format of turning the H&L into a story of its own and wish I would have done that with the H&L's I have written thus far but it has motivated to write future H&L's in this manner for sure. Great Job! 
Well, I won't be giving any opinions publicly out here, perhaps we can discuss it privately when the time of your response arrives.
I can't be sure what Liquid's thoughts are exactly on this, but I figured I could give my thoughts: Naemon and Gwendis are very close, probably even more than siblings usually are, because they went through the expercience of losing their mother together - they were the only ones who fully understood and supported each other in that period of their lives. I'd also say though that there isn't really anything romantic between them. I mean perhaps a thought of something like that has crossed their minds at one point or another, but nothing more than that.
I'm not even sure if that was really the vibe you sensed though, or if it was something completely different XD
Verro
He could hear and smell the sea, feel the wind and the burning sun on his skin, and he could feel pain. I’m alive, Verro realized, and opened his eyes. At first he was dazzled by the sun, but as his eyes adjusted he realized he had been washed ashore to a beach with white sands. It had to be Dorne – they had been close to its shore when the storm had surprised them.
Verro’s clothes were torn and wet, his long dark brown hair was even messier than usually – and sand was everywhere. He could feel his back aching, as well as a numbing pain on his right leg. He looked to both directions of the coast, but he couldn’t see a wreckage anywhere. Where is Donillos? Verro didn’t care if Captain Scar had died, or Marco, or the Limpfoot, but he had to find Donillos. For so long that man had been like a brother to him, that even the thought of losing him was gut-wrenching.
As he started taking faltering steps on the sand, Verro realized he had lost his weapons. He had to just put that thought aside, even if he knew he’d be completely defenseless in any kind of danger. As he looked to the west he could see red cliffs, about three-hundred feet from the sea. Clenching his teeth Verro decided to head towards those cliffs, in hopes of seeing more from there.
As he walked, he started to realize that he would need to find someone, rather sooner than later, or he would die – most likely of dehydration. Why did we have to shipwreck to Dorne, the shittiest place on this world? Verro cursed in his mind, but he continued to walk with determination in his steps.
Verro remembered how just couple days ago he had thought that it was the happiest time of his life, and now everything had come crashing down. Take another step, and another, and another. He frowned in anger and frustration. I have hit rock bottom again. On his fifteenth year the slavers had taken him from his home at the Great Grass Sea, and made him fight in pits for the entertainment of others. He had suffered every day, alone and with no one who understood Dothraki – the only communication from the slavers was the whip. The pirates taking over his master’s ship at the Slaver’s Bay had ended that hell. He still couldn’t call himself a free man, and the work on the ship was hard, but for the first time in years he wasn’t alone. Donillos was a friend to him – he taught him the common tongue, helped him, made him smile and laugh. It lasted four years, each year better than the last. And now it has come to an end.
Verro let out a scream of frustration as he fell on his knees to the soft sand. He grabbed a handful of the fine white sand and threw it to the air, watching as the wind scattered the small grains and took them away. After staying there for couple minutes, Verro stood up again, and kept walking. Every step was pain, and every second made him more sure he would die here alone.
Finally, he arrived to the cliffs, and started to look around, trying to find a route where he could climb up. He wasn’t sure if he could do it with all this pain on his leg, but he had to try. But then he noticed something – three riders approaching from the south, riding along the shore.
The riders weren’t flying any kind of banners, but two of them wore red and black robes and hid their faces. The man in the middle was wearing a light chainmail armor, and he had a worn-out white tabard with a black snake coiled around a red sword. Some sort of sigil.
Verro knew he had no way to escape, so he just stood there, watching as the riders got closer and closer. The man in the middle had a bushy black beard, and medium length black hair that had started to grey – he had to be at least on his late forties. The look on the man’s face was stern, and Verro had to admit to himself that in this moment he was feeling fear. He was unarmed, defenseless. He gulped, thinking about all the times he had robbed and killed as a pirate. Perhaps this is a punishment.
Finally, the riders arrived to Verro and surrounded him, pointing their swords at him. The two men in black and red robes had curved swords, whereas the man with the bushy beard had a straight long sword, shining steel. He looked at Verro with stern look on his dark eyes – and then he smiled.
“You are one of Captain Scar’s crew, right?” He asked calmly, and Verro gulped. “H- how do you know that?” He asked, and his voice came out even weaker than he had expected. The man lowered his sword and chuckled – the other two followed his example, and now Verro noticed that under their robes they were dark-skinned.
“We found the wreckage.” He said coldly. “And the body of Scar himself.” Verro didn’t know what to say, so he just turned his gaze to the ground. He had never really liked the Captain, but he had still offered him a new life. “Did you find anyone alive?” Verro asked weakly, and the man gave him a nod.
“Yes, we found you.” He replied emotionlessly. Verro closed his eyes, as the realization hit him like a hammer – he would never see Donillos again. For a moment they were all silent, until Verro opened his eyes again. “You knew Captain Scar… who are you?” He asked, eyeing at these men, not being sure if they would save him or kill him.
“My name is Ser Byrron Granit.” The bearded man answered with a smile. “And these two are Jabar and Zhobho.” Byrron pointed at the dark-skinned men, who stayed silent.
“And… how do you know Scar?” Verro asked with uncertain words. “We’ve had some trouble with the bastard in the past.” Byrron spoke with a sharp tone. “I’m sure you are familiar with the name Efran Sand.” Verro’s eyes widened as he heard this name. Efran was one of the most feared pirates in the Stepstones, he had allies everywhere. Scar however had always wanted to stay away from him – they had even waged war against him.
“So now you understand.” Byrron had a smirk on his face as he spoke. “We had our problems with Scar, but I also have respect for the old cunt – he was resilient if anything. And out of that respect for him, I am going to offer you a chance.” Ser Byrron looked Verro straight to the eye as he said this.
“A chance?” Verro asked with shaky voice, and Byrron nodded to him. “Yes, a chance. A chance to join us – to join a rebellion, a chance to fight for what’s right.” Verro gulped, he had no idea what was this man talking about. “If you refuse, we let you go.” Byrron said softly. “Travel north, and you’ll find a small village, less than two hours travel from here. However, I don’t recommend refusing – soon all these lands will be under the rule of Efran, and he will remember.” The last words of Byrron had an ominous tone, and Verro could see the anger in his eyes.
[Join] [Refuse]
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I was a bit conflicted about this. On the one hand, I am very sure that these lands won't remain under Efran's control forever. In fact, I'm even guessing that he's going down relatively soon, maybe at the end of Book 1. He doesn't really strike me as a major antagonist for the Martell's in the endgame. This means, joining him could be highly dangerous. On the other hand, I am not sure if Verro truly has a choice here. Byrron gave it to him, but he's obviously angry about the idea that he could refuse. And what really convinced me to join the rebellion is the chance to actually see Efran, who sounds more and more interesting with every new mention of him
Especially since it seems we chose wrong with our last choice for Dianna, since Byrron and his people appeared at the cost and not at some stronghold in the lands of House Granit.
Thanks for the compliments, I'm happy you liked it. And I'm looking forward for your future H&L's very much! Your previous ones have been amazing, so I am excited to read about what you're coming up with in your next H&L's and it's nice knowing that you enjoy this thing with turning them into a little short story. It seems we inspired each other then, since none of the H&L's would have even existed if you wouldn't have started the whole thing