Missy will spend time with Larry and Tom. It will certainly make an interesting part, I can say that much.
Alright, so I haven't been writing at all past few days, because I've been sick, and still am actually. However, when I feel a bit more fresh again, I'll start writing a Naemon part. Last time we saw him he was at Starfall, taking part in a feast with the Daynes. During this feast, King Vorian asked if Naemon would like to have Davos Dayne as his squire, and you voted for him to agree to it. I'll probably start the next part straight from the private meeting between Naemon, Vorian, Malcolm and Alester, after the feast.
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Naemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as squire, and Naemon could only hope that he’d be a worthy mentor for the boy. However, now was not the time to think about that.
“I know why you have traveled all the way here, Naemon.” Vorian started, his voice smooth and calm. “Reports of the war between Blackmonts, Fowlers and Manwoodys have reached my ears, and I know that soon the three kingdoms will battle over the dominion of the Wide Way.”
“I suppose so.” Naemon replied calmly. “Though I have not come here to ask you to join the war for the Wide Way.” He said, and Vorian raised an eyebrow for this. “You haven’t?” He asked with a touch of confusion in his words. “Why then?”
“The Kingdom of Blackmont is riddled with all kinds of problems – poverty and internal conflicts. The war is only making the situation worse.” Naemon explained, looking straight to the eyes of his uncle. "These are the things we need your help with."
“I understand.” The King responded calmly. “So, you need help in keeping the order in your lands?” Naemon let out a sigh as he nodded. “Some food for the poor would also be needed.” He said quietly, and Vorian nodded again.
“We will help the best we can, of course, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to give as much as you have probably hoped for.” Vorian spoke with an apologetic tone. “I have already promised financial aid for King Lucifer Dryland, in his war against the Rhoynar invaders.” The King explained, letting out a sigh as he spoke.
“But… You have something to give, right?” Naemon asked, a touch of frustration in his words. Vorian nodded slowly. “I have to take care of my own kingdom as well, as I’m sure you understand, but I can provide you with some crops and other supplies. I also believe House Upton might have some troops to spare for keeping the peace, am I correct?” The King turned his eyes towards Alester as he asked this.
“We are the most loyal house you’ll find, Your Grace.” Alester answered proudly, scratching his red beard. “I have to ask though; do you think it’s wise to send my troops away? We are the last defense before the Starfall.” Vorian didn’t seem concerned, and answered calmly. “There is no immediate threat for Starfall, and we must play the long game. In fact, making sure that Blackmont stays strong is for our own good as well.” The King had a pensive look on his eyes as he spoke. Alester looked confused, and furrowed his eyebrows. However, he wasn’t the one who spoke up.
“What do you mean, brother?” Garret asked, his expression just as confused as Alester’s. King Vorian let out a small sigh before he answered. “The Martells seek dominion over the whole Dorne, Albin Manwoody sees all of the Red Mountains as his own, all the while Yorick Yronwood gathers his powers, only to strike when all his rivals are weakened by these petty wars.” Vorian turned his eyes to Naemon now. “I will do what I can to make sure that the Daynes and Blackmonts can stand strong together, when the time comes to face these enemies.” A small smile was formed on Naemon’s face, and he nodded to his uncle.
“I am thankful of that, Your Grace.” He said quietly. For a moment the chamber was silent, until Alester cleared his throat again. “Your Grace.” He started politely. “My troops will march with Prince Naemon, to help him reclaim control over his lands, but I wish to lead these troops personally.” Naemon rolled his eyes subtly. Of course I have to keep watching his mug.
“That can be arranged.” King Vorian replied casually, and Alester bowed to him with gratitude. Vorian turned towards Naemon again. “You should leave soon, go with Lord Alester and his troops.” He said decisively. “The crops and other supplies will be transported behind you, but it will take a while for them to reach Blackmont, as the road north is a hard one for carts and large convoys.”
“I understand.” Naemon replied calmly, happy that he had succeeded in his mission. Gwen will be proud, he thought, unable to hold back the smile.
“It’s been a long night, and I think we all could use some sleep.” The King said, already standing up from his chair. However, he was cut off, this time by his son. “Wait.” Malcolm said, his voice surprisingly tense. Vorian turned to look at him with questioning gaze, and the Prince gulped. “I… Wanted to ask if I could join Naemon and Alester on this mission.” He spoke with uncertainty, and Vorian raised an eyebrow.
“Why?” The King simply asked, and Malcolm let out a sigh. “You keep talking about these threats, Albin Manwoody, the Rhoynar, the Yronwoods… I’m to be the King one day, yet I have no true experience on handling conflicts.” He spoke with serious tone, and Vorian nodded to him.
“I see.” He said quietly, thinking for a moment before continuing. “I believe I have taught you well, but perhaps you are correct… Experience is the best teacher. However, my authority doesn’t reach Blackmont. I will let you go, but you must ask Prince Naemon, the leader of this mission, if he wants to take you with him.” Now Malcolm turned to look at Naemon, clearly struggling to find words.
“Um… Would you mind if I joined this mission, Prince Naemon?” Malcolm asked with an awkward tone, and Naemon scratched his head. He hadn’t expected that he would have to make such a decision. Malcolm was a nice and friendly guy, but taking him would mean that Naemon would be responsible over the life of the heir to Kingdom of Torrentine. Do I want such responsibility?
[Take Malcolm with you][Don't take Malcolm with you]
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
This is a risk. This is a big risk, but I am choosing it regardless because of the benefits it holds. First of all, it will most likely mean a lot more screentime for Malcolm, whom I have grown to like. Second, there is the diplomatic benefit of this. Malcolm is the heir of his kingdom, so getting good contacts to Blackmont might be a good thing for both kingdoms. Third, it will undoubtedly give him a lot of experience, which can come in handy during his rule. Obviously, he will never be king, but House Dayne could certainly need a good and experienced lord in the days after Vorian. On the other hand stands the danger that he is going to be wounded or even outright killed in the conflict up there, which would likely irrevocably ruin the relationship between the two kingdoms. But I see this as a relatively small chance, considering that Malcolm is likely to be strictly guarded. That said, I might ultimately end up changing my vote again if I can think of more that would speak against taking Malcolm, but right now, this seems like both, the better and more interesting option.
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
I agree with Liquid that it would be more interesting to have the two heirs of their kingdoms travel together. However, I feel the risks are too great. If something terrible were to befall Malcolm, Naemon might be the one held responsible for it. This could ruin the relationship between the Blackmonts and the Daynes and ruin the chances of this trifecta alliance Vorian was speaking about from occurring. However, Liquid did make some convincing points in taking him along. I might change my mind/vote, but right now I'm going to say it is too risky to bring him.
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
[Take Malcolm with you] This choice is certainly not a easy one for me since there is a massive risk of Malcolm getting hurt or even killed with what is going in Blackmont but at the same time, there are also some positives that come with this choice. Malcolm will gain valuable political experience which would only help him while also stepping away from Vorian which is something that for the most part he has never done. Plus I can also see Naemon and Malcolm being positive influences for each other with both maybe helping the other's weaknesses. My bad for creating a tie I may end up changing my vote if I think of a reason to do so.
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Na… moreemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as sq… [view original content]
Nah, don't worry about the tie. Both you and Liquid have voted for taking Malcolm, and this choice is about your characters, so if the tie is not broken I'll just go with this option
[Take Malcolm with you] This choice is certainly not a easy one for me since there is a massive risk of Malcolm getting hurt or even killed … morewith what is going in Blackmont but at the same time, there are also some positives that come with this choice. Malcolm will gain valuable political experience which would only help him while also stepping away from Vorian which is something that for the most part he has never done. Plus I can also see Naemon and Malcolm being positive influences for each other with both maybe helping the other's weaknesses. My bad for creating a tie I may end up changing my vote if I think of a reason to do so.
And Naemon will take Malcolm with him to the mission. Well, technically it was a tie, but in this case I'm favoring the votes of the creators of Naemon and Malcolm
Anyway, the next part is (hopefully) ready today, and it's a special one! It is none of the regular PoVs, and it takes place in the Wide Way, that's what I can reveal
Early in the morning the scouts had rode to the camp from the north, informing that the army of the Manwoodys was approaching. Now it was already past noon, and Ser Russal rode his white horse, clad on his silver Royal Guard armor, watching as the soldiers were forming the battle lines on the canyon. This was the most important chokepoint on the Wide Way – if the Manwoodys would get through from here there would be no way to stop them from raiding the lands of the Fowlers.
Russal rode past the lines of soldiers with a stern expression on his face. On the frontlines were the pikemen, ready to hold back whatever the Manwoodys would throw against them. They were all veterans, hardened warriors who had seen battles before. Still Russal could spot the nervousness in some of their eyes. Not good.
Russal kept moving, and behind the frontlines of pikemen was the bulk of the army, infantry mainly made of peasants that were in a battle for the first time in their lives. The luckiest of them were armed with castle forged swords, but most had to settle for pitchforks, knives and wooden spears. Majority of these people came from the mountains and valleys near the Skyreach, but there were also some from the tribes of the deserts.
The sergeants were trying to get the lines in array, but these were poorly trained men, undisciplined and scared for their lives. With a sigh Russal continued past them, finally reaching the small unit of the archers behind all the infantry. At least most of them were well trained, though some were just hunters from the mountains. Behind the archers was the cavalry of the army, led by Prince Ferris himself. Ser Russal arrived next to his prince with a serious look on his eyes. Ferris looked slightly uncomfortable in his heavy armor. He is not used to wearing it. Ser Russal and Ferris both knew it was supposed to be Desmor leading this army, but the marriage proposal from the Blackmonts had changed that. And now the damn Blackmonts aren’t even here to help us.
“No news?” Ferris asked quietly, and Russal shook his head subtly. “The earlier report stands – Manwoodys will be here in less than an hour.” He spoke with a grim tone. There was a reason for this grim atmosphere – they’d be heavily outnumbered against the Manwoodys. They had hoped for aid from the Blackmonts, they had hoped to muster more men from the mountains, they had hoped for aid from the Drinkwaters. Their hope had been in vain. We stand alone.
“The first line must not break, that is the most important thing.” Ferris said, at least trying to sound calm. “Easier said than done.” Ser Russal replied with a sigh. “It was a wise move to put the experienced fighters to the frontline, but I’m not sure if it will be enough… When they see the enemy, I’m afraid they’ll be shaken just by the sheer number of them.”
“What do you suggest then?” The Prince snapped, nervous tone on his voice. For a while Ser Russal gave no answer, as he wasn’t sure if there was one. Finally, something came to his mind, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll go there myself.” Russal said with quiet and serious words. “I’ll lead the frontlines, to keep the morale high. When they see a knight in silver armor of the Fowlers fighting alongside them, they won’t break… Or that’s what I hope.” The way Ferris looked at Russal was filled with both admiration and concern. “Are you sure you want to do this?” The Prince asked, his voice calm.
“I’ve done dishonorable things in the name of this kingdom, it’s time I do something honorable.” Russal responded, keeping his gaze away from the Prince. Ferris nodded slowly, and Ser Russal dismounted his horse. “I’ll go now… I hope I can continue to serve you and your father after this battle.” The Royal Guard said, turning his head to give one last look at the Prince.
“I hope so too.” Ferris Fowler responded quietly, respectfully saluting to Russal, who answered with a small bow. And so, Ser Russal turned away from the cavalry, walking towards the frontlines. As he walked past the infantry he unsheathed his shining steel longsword. He could feel the eyes of the peasant soldiers on him, as he walked past them, grabbing his shield from his back, showcasing the sigil of House Fowler. The look on his eyes was determined and strong, even if at least half of it was just a play, to make the soldiers feel encouraged.
Finally, he arrived to the frontlines, and made his way in front of the pikemen. The veterans looked at him, clearly waiting for him to speak up. Russal had never been good at speeches, he liked to show his worth with actions rather than with words, but he knew that now he would need to say something, to fill the hearts of these men with courage. Ser Russal removed his helmet, to make sure that at least those closest to him could see his eyes.
“Brothers!” He started with his strong voice, looking at these men who stood in lines, ready to defend their kingdom. There was fear and doubt in their eyes, but also a spark of something else. Hope?
“We stand here together, ready to defend our homes, our families!” Ser Russal continued, walking along the lines, keeping his eye contact with the soldiers. “Remember that there is a reason why we are here today, a cause worth fighting for, worth dying for! An enemy driven by nothing but madness is threatening our lands, and we are the last defense in their way!” Russal could now see some of the soldiers nodding their heads. “We are the guardians of the Wide Way, every one of us! History might not remember our names, but it will remember the heroes that stopped the madness of Albin Manwoody from spreading to the Kingdom of Stone and Sky!” This made the frontlines cheer, and Ser Russal could feel the relief flowing through his body. This feeling of relief didn’t last long though, as suddenly a deep horn sounded somewhere behind him. Ser Russal turned around, and far in the distance the Manwoody army could be seen approaching. Even from afar the crowned skulls could be seen in the black banners, and it was a truly terrifying sight. Russal pulled his helmet back on, and turned towards the frontline.
“Get ready, the enemy is approaching!” He shouted, and made his way behind the frontlines. The atmosphere of nervousness returned, and Russal could not blame the men for it. It was easy to see that the Manwoodys outnumbered them. “Sound the horns!” Russal commanded, and soon the sound of the high-pitched horns of the Fowlers could be heard booming in the canyon.
In the distance the first wave of the enemy army started to march towards them, and an eerie silence filled the air. Russal walked behind the frontlines, encouraging them and reminding them to stay in order. Minutes passed, as the enemy slowly approached.
The frontline of the enemy forces was made of lightly armored men, armed with everything from spears to axes to pitchforks. Behind them came a unit of archers. “Shields up!” Russal commanded, and the frontlines followed his orders. As the enemy infantry came closer and closer, their archers sent their first volley of arrows. Most of them hit the shields, not doing any damage, but few managed to slip through from the cracks between the shields, injuring few of the pikemen.
This was immediately followed by a volley from the Fowler archers, which landed on the enemy infantry. Many fell, but it hardly made a dent to the massive force. “Charge!” Someone shouted from the enemy lines as they got close enough, and so the Manwoody soldiers started to rush towards the frontlines of the Fowlers. Another volley of arrows hit them before they reached the frontline, but it didn’t stop them. Just before the Manwoody soldiers reached them, the Fowler frontline thrusted their pikes towards the approaching enemy. And then the world was filled with screams. Screams of rage, screams of fear, screams of agony. Some were screaming for their gods, others for their mothers.
The pikes effectively slaughtered a good amount of the first line of attackers, but after that many of the Manwoody soldiers managed to rush past the tips of the pikes, and in close contact with the frontline. Ser Russal started to see the first casualties among the Fowler soldiers, but the second line aided in keeping the situation under control. Then came another volley of arrows from the enemy. One landed just few feet away from Ser Russal. After the initial shock, he noticed that many of the pikemen had been hit, and now laid on the ground either injured or dead. “Hold the line!” Ser Russal shouted from the bottom of his lungs, and at the same time a volley of arrows from the Fowler archers flew over him, doing good damage on the enemy infantry.
After several minutes of the frontline holding, Ser Russal turned to look at left, and just a couple dozen feet away from him he could see a small group of the enemies breaking through the line. He raised his shield and clenched tightly to his sword, approaching these men who were now causing disorder on the lines. As the first one of them, a young man armed with a spear, saw him coming, Russal could see the fear in his blue eyes. He gave the shocked boy a quick death, thrusting his sword through his throat. With a gurgling the young man fell to the ground, on top of a Fowler soldier he had earlier killed. Next Russal approached a bearded heavy man who was brawling with one of the pikemen. Without a warning, he plunged his sword under the man’s right arm, where the armor didn’t protect him. The large man didn’t go down immediately though, but turned towards Ser Russal, trying to swing him with his axe. Russal parried the weak blow with ease though, and finished the man by slitting his throat.
After this Russal could see that the line was holding again, and the men who got through had all been killed. And then came another volley of arrows. Russal saw several men fall around him, but even worse, one of the arrows hit him. It landed on his leg, just above his knee on the inner side where the armor didn’t protect him. With a groan of pain, he stumbled to the ground, falling on top of dead bodies. His breathing got heavier, and the pain blurred his vision for a moment. He looked at the arrow, and as much as he wanted to just pull it out, he knew that wouldn’t be wise. So, Russal only broke the arrow from the middle so it didn’t limit his movement, and stood up with a flash of pain going through him. And then he saw that the frontline was about to be overwhelmed by the enemies.
Ser Russal hobbled away from the frontlines, clenching his teeth in agony. One of the sergeants from the reinforcement infantry ran to him, an old man with narrow face and brown eyes. “What are your orders?” The sergeant asked, a touch of panic in his words. Ser Russal took in a couple of deep breaths before answering.
“Send half of the reinforcements to the frontline.” He muttered, trying to sound strong and calm. The sergeant saluted to Ser Russal, quickly returning to his men to pass on the order. The frontline was already breaking, the pikemen were starting to retreat, and the enemy forces were pushing forward. Finally, the second line of Fowler infantry made their charge, stopping the advancing of the enemy.
Ser Russal charged into the battle with the reinforcements, though the pain in his leg slowed him down. The frontline was now a complete mess, the armies were literally fighting atop the bodies of those who had fallen earlier. There was no clear line between the forces anymore, and the horde of the enemies was overwhelming the Fowlers. The archers from either side couldn’t give supporting fire at the frontline anymore, as the forces were simply too muddled up.
The only thing that seemed to keep Ser Russal alive in this bloody chaos was his armor. As a well-crafted plated armor, it was of course protecting him from most of the strikes aimed at him, but it also had a psychological effect, making many of the enemies simply turn away from him and try to fight someone with a bit less armor on. However, there were some who dared to face Ser Russal head on. He killed most of them with ease though, even with his right leg slowing him down.
Minutes passed, the ground was wet and red from blood, and the frontline of Fowlers was being surrounded by the enemies. Ser Russal was starting to lose his hope, as he was getting more and more exhausted. Every enemy soldier that attacked him was harder to defeat than the last one. The Fowler cavalry charged once against the flanking Manwoody forces, and then retreated back to their position. It helped a bit, but still it seemed clear that the frontline was lost. The Fowler infantry was breaking, men were trying to run away and got slaughtered from behind. Ser Russal was almost ready to throw down his weapons and accept death, but then something happened. Horns started to sound from the distance. First Manwoody horns, but then something else. The fighting at the frontline stopped almost completely, as the Manwoody soldiers turned to look back towards their commanders. And then Ser Russal saw it – the Blackmont banners in the distance, a cavalry charging against the reinforcements of the Manwoodys.
“Retreat! Retreat!” The Manwoody soldiers screamed, and most of them ran away from the frontline, back towards their reinforcements that were now under the attack of the Blackmonts. Those who stayed and fought were either too injured or too stubborn to retreat, but they were killed quickly, as the rest of the Fowler reinforcements charged in to take care of the situation.
Ser Russal looked towards the battle going on between the Blackmonts and Manwoodys. He remembered the mission that King Garrison had given him over a month ago. He had killed Blackmont peasants, raided their villages in the name of the Mad Albin, and now they had come to save his life. Russal let out a deep sigh, and turned towards the Fowler army. The canyon was filled with bodies, hundreds of them, if not thousands. The looks on the eyes of the Fowler soldiers ranged from relieved to shocked, and inside Russal had those exact same feelings. “Form a line!” He commanded the soldiers, who followed his order. He turned to look towards the battle again, and could see that the Manwoodys were starting to retreat. It was over.
Hm, I must say that I feel some very strong antipathy against Russal for his actions, especially since he had success with them. Dragging the Blackmonts into the war, murdering innocents, perhaps killing more Blackmonts than Albin Manwoody ever would have and with that even triggering the events of Gwendis' part, because the alliance with House Fowler wouldn't have been necessary if not for the war with the Manwoody's. I mean, I am happy that these people got driven back and defeated, but I really think that he would have deserved to be killed in this battle. But well, he is basically Garrison's pawn, so there's the good chance that his king is just going to get rid of him sooner or later. His knowledge is dangerous after all, so there is the hope that he gets what he deserves.
And I loved that battle scene in general, that was very detailed! It really seems to me that Albin has to face defeat pretty soon. With the combined might of two kingdoms and after just suffering a potentially crippling defeat, it is possible that Albin's war is already over before it truly began. I wonder if he really has a trump card left somewhere.
Guardian of the Wide Way
Early in the morning the scouts had rode to the camp from the north, informing that the army of the Manwoodys wa… mores approaching. Now it was already past noon, and Ser Russal rode his white horse, clad on his silver Royal Guard armor, watching as the soldiers were forming the battle lines on the canyon. This was the most important chokepoint on the Wide Way – if the Manwoodys would get through from here there would be no way to stop them from raiding the lands of the Fowlers.
Russal rode past the lines of soldiers with a stern expression on his face. On the frontlines were the pikemen, ready to hold back whatever the Manwoodys would throw against them. They were all veterans, hardened warriors who had seen battles before. Still Russal could spot the nervousness in some of their eyes. Not good.
Russal kept moving, and behind the frontlines of pikemen was the bulk of the army, infantry mainly made of peasants that… [view original content]
Yes, Ser Russal is indeed quite morally ambigious character. He is ready to do some grimy stuff with little remorse, but in the end he is - like you said - just a pawn. In a way this guy is the embodiment of the more shady side of Garrison. Tbh, him dying here in this battle would've probably been a huge relief to the King, but well, the bastard went and stayed alive XD
I'm glad you liked the battle though! It's indeed a huge loss for the Manwoodys, but they may have some tricks up their sleeve still.
Hm, I must say that I feel some very strong antipathy against Russal for his actions, especially since he had success with them. Dragging th… moree Blackmonts into the war, murdering innocents, perhaps killing more Blackmonts than Albin Manwoody ever would have and with that even triggering the events of Gwendis' part, because the alliance with House Fowler wouldn't have been necessary if not for the war with the Manwoody's. I mean, I am happy that these people got driven back and defeated, but I really think that he would have deserved to be killed in this battle. But well, he is basically Garrison's pawn, so there's the good chance that his king is just going to get rid of him sooner or later. His knowledge is dangerous after all, so there is the hope that he gets what he deserves.
And I loved that battle scene in general, that was very detailed! It really seems to me that Albin has to face defeat pretty soon. With the combined might of two ki… [view original content]
Well this was a no doubt a very exciting part and a huge victory for House Blackmont and House Fowler! I really enjoyed seeing this PoV from Ser Russal and it really told alot about him to me. While he obviously did some appalling things to get the Blackmonts involved in this war, this part certainly showed the loyalty that Russal has for his kingdom as well. He went out and fought on the frontlines with what looked to be a guaranteed death coming for him all to rally their scared troops the best that he could. Safe to say I really enjoyed Russal as a PoV in this part!
One of the big questions I have had since Gwendis ran away was if the Fowler and Blackmont alliance is still on and it seems for the time being that it is but it has also left me with some interesting thoughts and theories as well. I found it really interesting that the Blackmont army came in at the end with House Fowler almost defeated and I can't help but wonder if that was on purpose and it really makes me wonder if House Blackmont has somehow found out about what Garrison pulled to bring them into the war and wanted to weaken the Fowler army potentially. With Gwendis no longer there, the Blackmont-Fowler alliance will not be able to stand that way so it will be interesting to see if that alliance proposal is off or if the Isabella-Naemon betrothal is back on the table or what will happen. I am probably looking into the Blackmonts coming in late far too much but I suppose that means you have done an excellent job creating excitement for the upcoming parts! It also seems that House Manwoody's war may be over before it even truly began but I also definitely see them having something else up their sleeve. Overall this was an excellent part and one of my favorites of the whole story. Great job!
Guardian of the Wide Way
Early in the morning the scouts had rode to the camp from the north, informing that the army of the Manwoodys wa… mores approaching. Now it was already past noon, and Ser Russal rode his white horse, clad on his silver Royal Guard armor, watching as the soldiers were forming the battle lines on the canyon. This was the most important chokepoint on the Wide Way – if the Manwoodys would get through from here there would be no way to stop them from raiding the lands of the Fowlers.
Russal rode past the lines of soldiers with a stern expression on his face. On the frontlines were the pikemen, ready to hold back whatever the Manwoodys would throw against them. They were all veterans, hardened warriors who had seen battles before. Still Russal could spot the nervousness in some of their eyes. Not good.
Russal kept moving, and behind the frontlines of pikemen was the bulk of the army, infantry mainly made of peasants that… [view original content]
No voting to close this time, but here comes a little announcement. So, I've made progress with the next part, and hope to have it done today. It'll be a Dianna PoV, and since it's been a while from her last part, I suppose a small recap is in place:
So, Dianna, Javor and Ser Dallin Dalt with their soldiers are on a mission on the lands of House Granit, to find and kill Efran Sand. The mysterious old man named Wylie is also traveling with them. Last time, they had made their way to a crumbled old sept on the desert, where several bodies laid on the ground, indicating that there had been some sort of skirmish between the troops of House Granit and the bandits of the Bandit Lord. They investigated the sept, and found out that something had been taken from the cellar of the sept (probably the gold that we saw Efran later bringing to the cave in Verro's part). After this, they decided to continue the mission by making their way to Desertstone, the seat of House Granit. And that's where we will continue Dianna's storyline.
Dianna sat opposed to Lord Byrant Granit, on the stony hall of Desertstone. Lord Byrant was a regal man on his early fifties, with greying hair that was combed back, and gaunt clean shaven face. The look on his dark eyes was sharp, and the expression on his face looked to be constantly cold and calculating.
“This is the help that Lord Darin sends me.” Byrant said almost mockingly, his stare traveling from Dianna to Javor to Ser Dallin Dalt, and back to Dianna again. “Too little, too late.” His voice was cold and bitter.
“Actually, we were sent by Princess Nymeria.” Dianna corrected the Lord, who only bridled at the remark. “Princess of nothing.” He replied callously, and Dianna furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you not recognize her authority?” She asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. Byrant let out a joyless chuckle, shaking his head subtly.
“She has done nothing to convince me that she holds any power outside Sandship.” The Lord of Desertstone answered with a dry tone, making Dianna narrow her eyes. “She has sent me here to take care of the Bandit Lord.” She spoke sharply, but Byrant didn’t look convinced. “And I can promise to you that House Dalt also is doing its best in this situation.” Ser Dallin added calmly.
“I said it already… too little, too late.” Byrant replied, keeping his gaze at the surface of the table. “Efran Sand, aided by my wretched brother, is simply too strong. I am trapped here in my castle, while the scum of the Bastard’s Bastard roam on my lands, taking what they want, when they want.” Silence followed the Lord’s words, until finally Javor cleared his throat.
“Then I suppose it’s time to do something about it, mylord.” He said, a subtle hint of a smile on his face. Byrant turned his eyes on him, anger in his gaze. “Do you really think I haven’t tried to do something about it?” The Lord hissed, clenching his fists.
“Apologies, mylord.” Javor responded quickly, trying to calm down Byrant. “What I meant was that we are ready to help you, if only you let us.” The Martell captain glanced at Dianna and Dallin as he spoke. Byrant tapped the surface of the table with his fingers, a pondering look on his eyes. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I suppose there is something you could try.” He said quietly.
“Just tell us, and we will.” Ser Dallin said in an encouraging manner. “House Dalt wants to help its vassals.” He assured, and Lord Byrant gave him a doubting glare. “The Tower of Griefhill, that’s where the enemy is.” He stated emotionlessly, leaning against the back of his seat and crossing his arms. “They have manned it for a couple of months now. I believe it is one of their main bases.”
“And do you think we’d find Efran Sand from there?” Dianna asked, but the Lord of Desertstone just gave him an unenthusiastic shrug. “With good luck, perhaps.” He said with a sigh. “Though I’ve heard that he stays constantly on the move, never staying in one location for long.”
“Well, whoever is in charge of this base in Griefhill must be someone quite important, even if he isn’t Efran himself.” Ser Dallin spoke with a hopeful tone on his voice, and Byrant raised an eyebrow. “I have sent men there before, but every time they have been defeated.” He said, turning his gaze from Dallin to Dianna. “I have very little hope that you’d be any more successful.”
“I have no need for your hope.” Dianna replied sternly. “Though I would be thankful if you could give us a couple of your men, to guide us to Griefhill.” Lord Byrant chuckled coldly at Dianna’s words, but gave her an agreeing nod.
“Sure, that can be arranged.” He said, a small touch of amusement in his words. “It would of course be a pleasure to see you return here victorious, but I’m not holding my breath.”
-
After the meeting, Dianna wandered around the castle, eventually making her way to the courtyard. There she saw Wylie, standing calmly next to the wall. The old man had a small smile on his face, and a dreamy look on his turquoise eyes.
“What are you smiling at?” Dianna asked, her words coming out a bit more harsh than necessary. Wylie turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I was just looking at young love blossoming.” He answered with a smirk, and Dianna turned her eyes to the direction Wylie had looked earlier. She could see Lysera and Gerrar together next to a pillar, holding hands and talking to each other with shy looks on their eyes.
“Oh gods.” Dianna said with a sigh, and Wylie chuckled. “What? Would you forbid the youth from having a spark of love in their life?” He asked with a playful tone. Dianna shook her head, and let a small smile form to her face. “No, of course not.” She said casually. “I just hope they stay focused when we continue our mission.” Now Dianna turned her eyes to Wylie again. This old man had truly surprised her – not once during their journey had he shown any signs of being tired, and he had proven himself to have keen eyes and sharp mind.
“That brings to my mind… Where will you go from here?” Dianna finally asked, and Wylie let out a deep sigh. “I have a long journey ahead of me.” He answered calmly. “And sadly, it looks like I must walk through a warzone… An old friend of mine has summoned me, a friend from west.”
“So, you plan to travel through the whole Dorne alone?” Dianna asked with a touch of concern in her words. Wylie was perhaps lively and strong for his age, but such a long travel through such dangerous lands would be risky for anyone.
“Don’t worry about me, Captain Dianna.” Wylie responded with a smirk. “I have survived worse journeys, I’ll make it through this one as well.” Dianna nodded to him subtly. “I’m sure you were younger when you survived those journeys.” She said dryly, and Wylie let out a hearty little laughter. “I suppose so, we are all getting older every day after all.” He replied lightheartedly.
“You seem like a good man, Wylie.” Dianna stated, a small smile on her face. “I wish I could’ve known you for longer.” She added, and Wylie raised his eyebrow again. “Who knows, Captain, perhaps we’ll meet again.” He replied, a tranquil and peaceful tone on his voice. Dianna nodded to the old man with a respectful smile on her face, and walked away.
She approached Lysera and Gerrar, and cleared her throat as she was around ten feet away from them. Gerrar instantly pulled his hand away from Lysera’s hand, and nervousness took over the eyes of the lanky young man as he turned to look at Dianna. Lysera was also blushing, though she at least was capable of opening her mouth.
“Captain Dianna.” Lysera greeted, saluting her. Gerrar followed the example quickly, gulping as he did. “Lysera, Gerrar.” Dianna greeted them with a lazy tone. “Did you hear yet how the mission will continue from here?” She asked them casually, and this time Gerrar spoke up.
“I- I heard the Dalt soldiers talking about going to some place called Griefhill.” He spoke with timid tone, and Dianna nodded to him. “Aha, then you heard correctly.” She replied. “We will make our way towards the Tower of Griefhill tomorrow. So, rest well tonight, because where we are going will be dangerous.” Both young soldiers nodded to their captain, and a small smile was formed on Dianna’s face. “You can continue whatever you were doing.” She said playfully, as she turned away from them.
As Dianna walked back towards the keep, she looked around herself. Soldiers in the colors of Martells, Dalts, and Granits walked around the courtyard, grim looks on their faces. A war is ahead.
Sorry for another part without choices. I really tried to come up with something, but I just felt there was no meaningful way to include a choice to this part.
Dianna
Dianna sat opposed to Lord Byrant Granit, on the stony hall of Desertstone. Lord Byrant was a regal man on his early fifties, with… more greying hair that was combed back, and gaunt clean shaven face. The look on his dark eyes was sharp, and the expression on his face looked to be constantly cold and calculating.
“This is the help that Lord Darin sends me.” Byrant said almost mockingly, his stare traveling from Dianna to Javor to Ser Dallin Dalt, and back to Dianna again. “Too little, too late.” His voice was cold and bitter.
“Actually, we were sent by Princess Nymeria.” Dianna corrected the Lord, who only bridled at the remark. “Princess of nothing.” He replied callously, and Dianna furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you not recognize her authority?” She asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. Byrant let out a joyless chuckle, shaking his head subtly.
“She has done nothing to convince me that she holds any power outside Sandship.… [view original content]
That was a great part! I don't mind the lack of a choice, it felt nice enough without it And I must say, Bryant gives me a bit of a bad vibe here. His clear lack of respect for Nymeria is a bit concerning. I mean, she is the only one that actually can help him with his problems. Now I have to wonder if he's just a jerk, or if Lord Dalt feels similar. And I really think I have underestimated Efran, considering how afraid Bryant seems to be of him. I can see something pretty big coming out of this story. Though the one thing I am a bit surpised of is how certain Bryant is that he knows where his enemies are located. I am willing to bet that things won't be that easy.
Dianna
Dianna sat opposed to Lord Byrant Granit, on the stony hall of Desertstone. Lord Byrant was a regal man on his early fifties, with… more greying hair that was combed back, and gaunt clean shaven face. The look on his dark eyes was sharp, and the expression on his face looked to be constantly cold and calculating.
“This is the help that Lord Darin sends me.” Byrant said almost mockingly, his stare traveling from Dianna to Javor to Ser Dallin Dalt, and back to Dianna again. “Too little, too late.” His voice was cold and bitter.
“Actually, we were sent by Princess Nymeria.” Dianna corrected the Lord, who only bridled at the remark. “Princess of nothing.” He replied callously, and Dianna furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you not recognize her authority?” She asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. Byrant let out a joyless chuckle, shaking his head subtly.
“She has done nothing to convince me that she holds any power outside Sandship.… [view original content]
I'm glad at least you enjoyed the part! Because honestly, aside from this being a plotpoint that has to happen in Dianna's storyline, I didn't really have much inspiration for this part The next part (imo at least) is going to be more interesting and will 100% sure also have a choice But yeah, Lord Byrant really isn't that different from his brother Ser Byrron - they are both stern cold assholes. And Dianna's storyline should indeed get pretty interesting as we get further to the chapter.
That was a great part! I don't mind the lack of a choice, it felt nice enough without it And I must say, Bryant gives me a bit of a bad vib… moree here. His clear lack of respect for Nymeria is a bit concerning. I mean, she is the only one that actually can help him with his problems. Now I have to wonder if he's just a jerk, or if Lord Dalt feels similar. And I really think I have underestimated Efran, considering how afraid Bryant seems to be of him. I can see something pretty big coming out of this story. Though the one thing I am a bit surpised of is how certain Bryant is that he knows where his enemies are located. I am willing to bet that things won't be that easy.
Alright, so because the last part had no choices there is no need to keep waiting - the next part will most likely be ready today, and will have a choice Anyway, after a veeery long time, we will have a Tomas Toland PoV. If you have forgot, Tomas is the younger brother of Donovar Toland (the King of the Ghost Hills who was killed by Forovos Norvoshi in the finale of Chapter 1). In Chapter 1 Tomas was raiding the lands of House Martell, but was eventually taken down by a surprise attack led by Ser Yandry of Olivegrove, who sadly died in the battle. Tomas however was taken as prisoner and brought to Sandship, where he has been locked away to the cells. In her first part in this chapter, Princess Nymeria visited the cell of Tomas, telling him that Donovar had died, and that Tomas would need to be the one who'd convince Donovar's son and heir (Levor Toland) from starting another war.
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched dark room. Perhaps Levor had been crowned as king, and was now amassing an army to avenge his father, perhaps the army was already on the move, perhaps this castle was under a siege right now. Perhaps there is still hope.
Tomas leaned his head against the cold stone wall, letting out a deep sigh. After every passing minute, he was more and more convinced that he would die here, in a damp dungeon under the Sandship. Did it even matter whether the Tolands would rise to glory again or fall to complete destruction, if he would never be there to witness it? The uncertainty was like a sting in his heart. Tomas had dedicated his whole life to serving his house and the gods, but here in this darkness he had to wonder if it had all been in vain.
As Tomas’ eyes finally started to adjust to the dark, he heard voices outside the cell. Steps, approaching. It would mostly likely just be a guard bringing him water and food, of course only just enough to keep him alive. A key entered the keyhole, shrouding the faint light, and then with a screech, the door was opened. By the doorframe stood a man and a woman. The man stepped closer, and even in the darkness this man had such a strong presence that it made Tomas back up against the wall.
“Stand up.” The man spoke with emotionless tone, keeping his voice down. And there was no reason for him to raise his voice, as it was so commanding and confident that it left no room for questions. Tomas obeyed, clumsily getting up on his feet.
“What is this?” Tomas asked nervously, his voice hardly audible. “Congratulations, Toland, the Princess is giving you a second chance.” The man answered, a piercing glare on his dark eyes. “Now, follow.” He commanded, proceeding to walk out of the cell. The woman still stood by the door, looking at Tomas. “You heard, what he said. Move.” She commanded, and with a sigh Tomas walked out of the cell. He followed after the man who was clad in heavy armor, while the woman walked behind him. They made their way up the stairs, and into the halls of Sandship.
Now, in the light, Tomas could see that the man that was leading him had to be at least on his early fifties. He had a black receding hair, olive skin, and a long and thin face with a stern expression on it. Without a word, he led them to large wooden doors, and turned to look at Tomas.
“I would advise you to be cooperative, Tomas Toland.” He said with quiet but strong voice. Tomas nodded quietly, and the man proceeded to open the doors. Behind the doors was a large room, probably a council chamber. And there was a table, three people sitting by it. In the middle sat Princess Nymeria, glaring at Tomas with narrowed eyes. On her left sat Prince Mors, with a calm and relaxed presence. On the right of the Princess was a bald and slender man, dressed in fine black silk tunic, a sharp look on his blue eyes. There was something unsettling about this man, but Tomas couldn’t quite point out what it was.
“Thank you, General Varyn and Captain Sanyra.” The Princess said to the man and woman who had brought Tomas in. “Sit down, Tomas.” She continued with a surprisingly polite tone, gesturing for him to sat to the seat opposed to them. Tomas walked to the table with a stern expression. As he sat down, his gaze traveled from the Prince, to the Princess, and finally to this mysterious bald man. General Varyn also made his way to the table, sitting next to Prince Mors, while Captain Sanyra stayed by the doors.
“What do you want from me?” Tomas asked, his voice coarse and weak. A small smile was formed on the face of Nymeria. “I want your help, Tomas Toland.” She said calmly. With confusion Tomas furrowed his eyebrows, but the Princess kept on a calm face. “As I told you earlier, you must be the one to convince your brother’s heir not to wage war against us.” She explained, and Tomas shook his head subtly.
“And what if I don’t want to?” He asked, his voice defiant and bitter. Nymeria let out a cold and joyless chuckle. “You’d rather see your nephew die?” She asked strictly, and there was nothing left of the smile that was earlier on her face.
“This is all just to spare the useless bloodshed, Tomas.” Mors joined the conversation with his soft voice, and Tomas turned his gaze down. “What would you have me do?” He asked, no power in his words. “Tell my nephew to forgive those who murdered his father? Demand him to forget his grief and bend the knee to foreign invaders?”
“House Martell had nothing to do with the murder of Donovar Toland.” The bald man suddenly spoke up, his voice smooth and calm. “The reports tell it was someone from his own army, someone called Tylan Sager.” He continued, and Tomas narrowed his eyes. “I know Tylan, he would never do that.” He muttered, but the bald man just shrugged with a small chuckle.
“Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought.” He replied with a sly tone, and Tomas slammed his fist on the table. “No.” He said, clenching his teeth. “This is bullshit, I don’t believe it. And who in seven hells even are you?” Tomas asked angrily, staring at the bald man with fury in his eyes.
“My name is Forovos Norvoshi.” The man answered calmly, pressing his fingers together. “I am a keyholder of the Iron Bank of Braavos, a business partner of the Martells.” He explained with a faked smile on his face.
“He will be the neutral third party in the peace negotiations between our houses.” Mors said to Tomas, who bridled to this. “Neutral? It seems to me like he has very much chosen his side.” He barked, but the people opposed to him stayed calm.
“You can trust me, Tomas, the Iron Bank never truly chooses sides. We invest to the wisest options, but we are always ready to reconsider.” The words came out smoothly and gracefully as the loan peddler spoke, but Tomas found it hard to trust this man.
“Whether you trust Forovos or not, preventing this war is something you must do, Toland.” Nymeria spoke up again, a sharp tone on her voice. “The army of your house has been broken, and whatever Levor Toland can muster won’t be enough. It will only lead to suffering.” The Princess’ words were harsh, but Tomas was afraid that she might be correct.
“Then what is it that you want me to do?” He asked, keeping his voice calm, and the small smile returned to the face of the Princess. “Travel with Forovos to Ghost Hill, sit down with your nephew, and offer him this.” With the last words Nymeria handed Tomas a scroll. He opened it, seeing that it was a peace treaty. “And what if Levor doesn’t listen to me?” He asked with quiet and serious tone, but Nymeria just shook her head subtly.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Tomas.” She said, a hint of a threat in her tone. “Just try to make it clear to him that this is for his own good.”
Tomas gulped subtly. Forovos, Nymeria, Mors and Varyn all stared at him, waiting for his answer. Perhaps choosing to cooperate now would be inevitable to save his house from destruction, but at the same time it felt wrong. Would it be a treasonous act? Tomas couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty was like a sting in his heart.
Alright, it really doesn't look like Tomas has any genuine choice here. If he refuses to cooperate, the Martells have no reason to leave him alive, considering that even his value as a hostage is not particularly high. He's the uncle of the new king and therefore not exactly the most valuable family member to keep hostage. We don't know how the Toland's are faring now, after their king is dead, but if they pos any kind of threat again, then I'm sure Forovos can do something against it. He did it once, what's stopping him from doing it again? Tomas has to cooperate, or else there's really no chance for him to survive, with his entire house being in danger on top of that. Though I don't like him in particular, my dislike for him is not high enough to get him killed just yet.
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way… more into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched da… [view original content]
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way… more into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched da… [view original content]
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way… more into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched da… [view original content]
From the look of things, the Tolands have already been defeated with their king being killed and if I remember right, his heir is only 14 or 15 so he is most likely not the most experienced leader. We don't know what Levor's personality is truly like but if he is anything like his father, he will try and continue what his father started while avenging him as well. So safe to say it is probably for the best if Tomas cooperates with Nymeria and Mors so he can save his house from utter ruin and also save his nephew from potentially being killed by Forovos.
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way… more into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched da… [view original content]
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way… more into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched da… [view original content]
This one is clear, Tomas will cooperate with the Martells, travelling to Ghost Hill with Forovos to try and convince Levor to drop any possible plans for avenging his father. It's pretty fucked up really, knowing that Forovos is the one who murdered Donovar in the first place Also, I can now reveal that refusing to cooperate would not have led to the Martells killing Tomas - though they certainly wouldn't have treated him very nicely either. Anyway, the rest of this conversation will be seen later from the PoV of Nymeria.
The next part will be ready in a day or two, and it'll be a Nealia PoV. So far in this chapter Nealia (along with the rest of the Rose Company) has been in Salt Shore. There they had a meeting with a bandit leader named Corren, who works for Efran Sand. In this meeting Corren acted disrespectfully towards Nealia, groping her, which led to her punching him in the face. This almost led to a fight breaking out between the two groups, but Tryden managed to calm down Corren. Nealia was disappointed in herself, and later in the tavern got drunk. This lead to Lien Yu, also drunk, coming to her table to cheer her up. They shared a moment, and Lien kissed Nealia. You voted for Nealia to keep kissing her.
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleeping next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door of the room was knocked. “Who the-“ Nealia’s sentence was cut off by the voice of Illor sounding from the other side of the door. “Nealia, it’s me, Illor. Could you open the door?” The Braavosi requested with a polite tone, and Nealia walked to the door, and opened it. Illor stood there with his armor on, and immediately his eyes glanced past Nealia, seeing Lien laying on the bed. Awkwardly he turned his eyes back to Nealia, a somewhat confused look on his face.
“Um, did you want to say something?” Nealia asked, trying to sound polite and friendly, and after a couple seconds of silence, Illor nodded to her. “Oh, yes, just wanted to say that we are leaving in an hour, so, gear up and get ready.” Nealia nodded to Illor’s words, and then the Braavosi sellsword awkwardly turned around and walked away. Nealia closed the door and let out a sigh.
“What is it?” Lien asked with genuine interest in her voice. Nealia walked back to the bed and sat down before answering. “Well, I’m not sure, but I think Illor may have been… interested in me, if you know what I mean.” She said, uncertainty in her words.
“And you?” Lien asked, curiosity in her eyes, but Nealia just let out a joyless chuckle. “I have never liked men, in that way.” She answered, scratching her head as she spoke. “Only girls, huh?” Lien asked, sounding slightly surprised, and Nealia gave her a nod.
“Well, don’t worry about it too much.” Lien said, finally sitting up and starting to reach for her clothes. “Illor is a good man, he’ll understand.”
“I hope he does.” Nealia replied quietly. Her mind returned to the meeting in the warehouse, and how she had punched the bandit leader Corren. In that moment it had felt satisfying, showing that disgusting fucker that he held no power over Nealia, but in retrospect it had clearly been a reckless move from her. “Are you okay?” Lien asked, as she had clearly noticed the gloomy expression on Nealia’s face.
“I’m fine.” She replied dismissingly. “I just hope Tryden isn’t too mad.” She added with a sigh, and Lien let out a quiet chuckle. She had dressed up by now, and stood up from the bed. “He’ll get over it.” Lien’s voice was carefree, and Nealia could only wish to be as relaxed as the YiTish lady was. “Anyway, I think I should go, Ying is probably already expecting me.” Lien’s eyes met with Nealia’s, and she gave her a nod.
“Sure, see you soon.” Nealia said, at least trying to smile. Lien replicated the small smile, and walked out of the room. As the door was closed, Nealia let out another sigh. She wondered if spending the night with Lien had been a good idea. Sure, they had both been drunk and it was just some fun, but Nealia was afraid their friendship could be a bit awkward from now on. She shrugged these thoughts off, put on her armor, and left the room.
On her way down the stairs to the taproom, Nealia saw Tryden standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. Quickly Tryden noticed Nealia, and gestured for her to come to him. Nealia gulped subtly, before making her way towards her boss. The look on Tryden’s eyes was calm, but there was also a hint of anger in them.
“Morning, Nealia.” Tryden pronounced the words slowly, his voice smooth and calm. Nealia took in a breath before answering – the last thing she wanted was to come off as weak to Tryden Flowers.
“Morning, Tryden.” Nealia finally answered with stern tone, and a humorless smile appeared on Tryden’s face. “I think we need to talk about yesterday.” He said coldly, his piercing stare falling on Nealia. “What’s there to talk?” Nealia asked defiantly, but Tryden didn’t back down.
“You risked everyone’s life in that warehouse with your recklessness.” He said, his voice even more serious now. “I don’t want to see that kind of behavior again.” Clearly this was meant to be the closing statement of the conversation, but Nealia still had something to say.
“It’s easy for you to say.” She spat, her temperament sparking. “You were not the one whose ass was being groped by Corren, were you?” Tryden chuckled dryly for the question, but the expression on his face stayed serious. “You are a bold one, Nealia, and that’s good.” He said, and now his voice was slightly softer. “However, act with the kind of stupidity that you did yesterday, and you won’t survive long in this life.” With these words, Tryden walked away from Nealia, not waiting for her answer. Nealia was mildly angered, but at least she felt like she could now move on from the incident in the warehouse.
She walked out of the tavern and into the main street of Salt Shore. Lien, Ying and Manda were on the side of the street, and Nealia was about to join their company, but then something caught her eye. On the distance, a small convoy of knights and soldiers were riding down the main street – clearly heading towards the castle. However, what truly sparked Nealia’s interest were the banners that the riders were carrying. White sword and a falling star on a purple field. These were Daynes, as baffling as that was to Nealia. What in seven hells are they doing here?
Nealia started to approach the riders, and as he got close enough he saw the man who was leading them – a sturdy and grim knight on his late thirties. Nealia recognized those blue eyes, dark hair and sharp facial features, he had seen this man dozens of times back in Starfall. “Ser Rolan Nightfall.” She said loudly, as the convoy was about to go right past her. Ser Rolan stopped his horse, and signaled for the rest of the convoy to do the same. Right next to him rode a young lad who shared many features with Ser Rolan, probably on his early teens, dressed in clothes that made his high status clear. He looked at Nealia with narrowed eyes. Probably the heir to Nightfall.
Ser Rolan also looked at Nealia with slight confusion, but in couple seconds the realization took over his eyes. “Nealia Sand.” He said quietly, clearly surprised to see her. “I’m… glad to see you’re still alive.”
“I’m glad to be alive.” Nealia quipped dryly, looking at the group of around dozen riders that were following Ser Rolan. Before either Nealia or Rolan could say anything more, the young boy spoke up. “So, you are the bastard sister of Jamison?” He asked bluntly, making Nealia raise an eyebrow.
“Quiet, Lyreon!” Ser Rolan commanded the boy, before turning his eyes to Nealia again. “Nealia… King Lucifer mentioned that he had hired you, or well, at least the sellsword company that you are part of.” The knight had a puzzled expression on his face as he spoke.
“You’ve met Lucifer recently, huh? Well, he didn’t lie – I work for the Rose Company, and the Rose Company is currently working for the Drylands.” Nealia responded calmly, and Rolan nodded to her.
“I see.” The knight replied with a small sigh. “We were sent on a diplomatic mission to Hellgate Hall by your father, and Prince Jamison led the mission.” These words made Nealia’s eyes widen in surprise and shock. “Jamison.” She said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. “Where is he now?” She asked enthusiastically, trying to see if the Sword of the Night was somewhere in the middle of the soldiers, just waiting to reveal himself and surprise Nealia. However, Rolan’s face told that Jamison wasn’t here with them.
“Our convoy was split after we met King Lucifer – I led half of the group here, and Jamison led the other half towards Godsgrace.” Ser Rolan explained, and Nealia nodded with a hint of disappointment in her face. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell him when I meet him again?” Rolan asked, and with a gulp Nealia turned her gaze down, trying to figure out what exactly would she like to say to her brother.
["Tell him that I miss him"]["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
I figured this would be the best choice for the message. Mainly because this option matches her personality more than the other one. I figure that her missing him would be implied anyways considering their relationship and both their personalities.
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleepin… moreg next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door o… [view original content]
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleepin… moreg next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door o… [view original content]
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleepin… moreg next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door o… [view original content]
I feel like this is what sums up the relationship with Nealia and Jamison the best as far as I have gotten it correctly so far. They obviously care for each other, but I had the opinion that the love between them was more of a tough love and that both got strength from each other more than anything else. This option also implies that she misses him, which I assume is something Jamison is even well aware of. It would tell him that she cares for him and everything, while still not being overly emotional, which I don't see as particularly fitting for her. And well, considering how hot-headed he can be, it might be good for Jamison if someone reminds him to stay out of trouble once in a while.
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleepin… moreg next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door o… [view original content]
Like everyone has already said, I also agree that Nealia telling Jamison to stay out of trouble fits their relationship perfectly. This option also lets Jamison know that Nealia does miss him while not being overly emotional especially since it is just a message and not talking directly to Jamison himself.
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleepin… moreg next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door o… [view original content]
"Tell him to stay out of trouble", is what Nealia will say to Ser Rolan. I think I agree with what many of you said here, this does fit better with Nealia's character. Though if there was anyone that could make her act a bit out of character it would probably be Jamison. And well, maybe Vorian too.
And speaking of Jamison... Nope, we are not getting a Jamison PoV yet, however, he will make his return in the next part, which will be Emerson PoV. It is the first time in the story that we see Jamison through someone else's eyes, and it should be pretty interesting. As for Emerson's storyline, here's a short recap: As we were introduced to Emerson Allyrion, we found out that he is the only surviving son of a former Lord of Godsgrace, Mason Allyrion. However, throughout his childhood he has been raised as the bastard son of Mason's brother Morgan, who currently acts as the Lord of Godsgrace. We briefly met with Morgan's only living son, Emmett, who Emerson respects even though he is commonly seen as a useless half wit. We also met Morgan's daughter Esperence, and it came clear that she is planning behind Morgan's back to unite with the Martells. She also clearly showed some doubts about Emerson (the rightful heir) being fit to rule the house, which made him suspicious towards her. Later Emerson met with Morgan, who surprised him by saying that if he'd serve him well in the incoming war he'd name Emerson as his heir. On top of that though, he threatened to hang him if he'd go against him. This made Emerson wonder if he should expose Esperence's plans (or what little he knows of them) to Morgan. In the end, he decided to stay silent of his cousin's actions.
I've started writing the part, but well, it's holidays so obviously my pace hasn't been very quick. I'll go to my parents tomorrow and come back in 2017, but I should find some time for writing there too. Ideally I'd have the part ready before I'll leave tomorrow, but it's likely that I can't make it that fast.
Emerson rode down the Iron Street, where the sound of hammering from the forges of blacksmiths filled the air. He was on his way to the Western Gate of the city of Godsgrace, also known as the Iron Gate. Emerson was soon going to be welcoming a royal guest, but his thoughts dwelled on Esperence and Morgan. He had kept his cousin’s secrets from Morgan, but he was still unsure if he could really trust her.
Next to Emerson rode his younger cousin Emmett, who had a serious and proud expression on his puffy face. He was always very proud to represent his house, especially since Morgan often prevented him from doing it, hiding him away in shame of his disabilities. However, now Morgan had specifically commanded both Emerson and Emmett to welcome the guests, and Emerson couldn’t help but think that the Lord may have intended it as an insult towards these visitors.
Soon Emerson, Emmett and the dozen city guardsmen that rode with them arrived to the gate. Emerson dismounted his horse, and Emmett followed his example. The guards positioned themselves on the street so that the two young Allyrions were protected from all directions. It was a calm and quiet afternoon in the city, so Emerson didn’t really feel like these guards were even necessary. He let out a bored sigh, wondering how long would they have to wait.
“What does the Dayne prince want from us, Emerson?” Emmett suddenly asked, and Emerson turned his head to see a confused look on his cousin’s eyes. Clearly he was worried, and Emerson could understand why. It was not every day that a prince from the other side of Dorne visited Godsgrace. In fact, there were rarely any royal visitors in Godsgrace at all, as they were an independent house.
“I’m not sure, Emmett.” Emerson answered truthfully, keeping his voice calm. All he knew was that Jamison Dayne had met with King Lucifer Dryland before traveling to Godsgrace, and that most likely meant he was here to deliver a message from the King of Brimstone. Of course, Lucifer had already sent a raven to the Allyrions, but clearly he had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough. As for why the Daynes were delivering the messages of the Drylands, Emerson had no idea.
Emerson had never met Prince Jamison, but he surely had heard of him. Sword of the Night they called him, saying he was the most skilled knight in Dorne, only second to his own father. However, Emerson had also heard that Jamison was an arrogant man, full of himself, cold and remorseless. I guess soon I’ll see if any of that is true.
“I… I have thought,” Emmett started with uncertain words, and Emerson turned to look at him again. “You have thought of what?” Emerson asked, as Emmett didn’t seem to find the words to continue his sentence. “A- are we in war?” He finally managed to ask, and Emerson turned his gaze to the pavement.
“No, not yet.” He answered quietly. With a sigh, Emerson turned his head up again and looked at his cousin to the eyes. “But I won’t lie to you, we most likely will be soon.” He spoke with a grim tone, and Emmett gulped noticeably.
Minutes passed, as they waited for the Prince of Starfall to arrive. Finally, after a long wait, the horn was blown on the walls, and the gates were opened. In the distance Emerson could see the small convoy approaching, purple Dayne banners waving in the soft wind. As the convoy of over a dozen knights and soldiers rode through the gatehouse, Emerson saw the handsome young man who was leading them. Long black hair, light beard, smug smile and a cold look on his purple eyes. He was dressed in casual but fine clothing, and carried a curved longsword. So, this is the Sword of the Night.
Jamison Dayne’s gaze traveled from Emmett to Emerson, and he let out a dry chuckle. “This is the welcoming party I get, huh?” The Prince asked with a mocking tone. Emerson narrowed his eyes sternly, but he knew that showing his irritation to this man would be a mistake.
“Indeed.” He answered, keeping his voice calm and official. “You are very welcome to Godsgrace, Prince Jamison. Now, I think we should make our way to the castle.” Jamison ignored Emerson’s words, studying his face with a sly smile on his face.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourselves, boys?” He asked, clearly trying to provoke Emerson. Before he managed to reply, Emmett spoke up. “I am Emmett Allyrion, son of Lord Morgan Allyrion.” He said politely with a friendly smile on his face. Jamison raised an eyebrow, looking at Emmett with mild confusion. Emerson knew that his cousin wasn’t good at spotting mockery in other people’s words, but of course this came as a surprise to Jamison. With a chuckle the Prince turned his eyes to Emerson. “And you?” He asked with amusement in his voice.
“Emerson Allyrion, nephew of Lord Morgan.” He answered, unable to fully veil his irritation. Jamison’s mocking grin got slightly wider. “A nephew and a halfwit welcome me to Godsgrace. I can see that Lord Morgan has very little respect for me.” As the Prince spoke, Emerson could see from the corner of his eye how the smile on Emmett’s face died – he had finally realized that Jamison was mocking them. Emerson bit his tongue, to prevent himself from saying anything inappropriate. Instead, he walked to his horse and mounted it again.
“Follow me to the castle, please.” He spoke with calm and cold tone, turning around to make his way towards the Iron Street again. After looking at Emerson mounting his horse, Emmett also quickly made his way back on top of his. “As you say, ser.” Said Prince Jamison with an amused tone still on his voice, and so they started to ride up the Iron Street back to the gates of the castle.
In silence Emerson, Emmett and Jamison with his convoy rode through the gates into the courtyard. The first thing that caught Emerson’s eye was how divided the people on the yard were. It was something the Daynes would not notice, but Emerson could easily see there were two separate groups waiting for their arrival – Morgan’s men and Esperence’s men. Morgan’s men were mostly the soldiers of the castle guard, and some knights of the court. Esperence in turn had mostly sellswords and common thugs on her payroll.
As they all dismounted their horses, and the stable boys came to fetch the horses, Ser Niclas Wyne approached them. The balding knight gave Emerson and Emmett a cold glance as he walked past them, but as he got closer to Prince Jamison, a small and polite smile was formed on his face.
“Welcome to Godsgrace, Prince Jamison.” He said with his deep voice, and Jamison nodded to him with a bored expression on his face. “I am Ser Niclas Wyne, personal guard of Lord Morgan.” Ser Niclas continued. “Now, let me take you to the Lord, he has been waiting for you.”
“Take us to Lord Morgan then, Ser Niclas.” Jamison responded, making clear with his voice how unenthusiastic he was about this meeting. Niclas made a small bow, and turned around to lead the Daynes inside. Emerson was about to follow them, but then he saw one of Esperence’s thugs, a young man with curly black hair and muscular build, gesturing for Emerson to approach him. Quickly Emerson made his way to this young thug, Devin his name was, and Emmett followed after him.
“What is it?” Emerson asked hastily. “I should be going to the meeting with the Daynes.”
“Forget that.” Devin said with a cocky tone on his voice. “Esperence has invited you to her own meeting. And you as well, Emmett.” Emerson furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Why in seven hells is she having this meeting now?” He asked with frustrated tone. Before Devin could answer, Emmett spoke up. “I’m going to sister’s meeting.” He said decisively, and Devin patted him on the shoulder with an approving grin on his face.
“I advise you to follow Emmett’s example, Emerson.” Devin said, giving one last menacing look at Emerson, and turning around. Emmett glanced once more at Emerson, but then quickly followed Devin. Emerson turned to look at the Daynes, seeing the last ones of their convoy step inside the keep. He was angered, because he knew what this was. Esperence is testing my loyalties.
[Go to Morgan's meeting][Go to Esperence's meeting]
[Go to Esperence's meeting] This was a very interesting part! From what I can tell, it does seem that House Allyrion is no doubt more divided then I initially thought with Esperence's play for power or whatever she is after now being made more public with more men of hers showing up in Godsgrace. This choice is a very tough one for me because on one hand, I really do want to see the Jamison-Morgan Allyrion meeting firsthand but going to Esperence's meeting could teach us more about her true plans. It is very interesting that they are having their meeting at the same time that the Daynes are here though that is for sure and if there is something to that, I can't say I am sure at this point. However for now, I will vote for Emerson to go to Morgan's meeting for now. I really want to see this Jamison and Morgan Allyrion conversation since from what I have seen so far, Morgan is pretty unlikable with how he treats Emerson and a bit of a bully and I just want to see if he will try to pull that with Jamison which would be very interesting to say the least Overall though, since this choice is coming up here, we probably won't get to see the meeting from Jamison's PoV so this may be the only chance to see the meeting happen in the story.
Edit: Well after debating on it, I am switching my vote even though it probably does not matter too much now Now that I know we will see the Morgan meeting from Jamison's PoV, it seems wise to go to Esperence's meeting to hopefully learn more of her true plans. I initially thought of sticking with my vote largely because it seemed like a good idea for Emerson to stay on Morgan's good side as much as possible but if I had to guess, Morgan probably does not really care if Emerson is in the meeting or not anyway.
Emerson
Emerson rode down the Iron Street, where the sound of hammering from the forges of blacksmiths filled the air. He was on his way … moreto the Western Gate of the city of Godsgrace, also known as the Iron Gate. Emerson was soon going to be welcoming a royal guest, but his thoughts dwelled on Esperence and Morgan. He had kept his cousin’s secrets from Morgan, but he was still unsure if he could really trust her.
Next to Emerson rode his younger cousin Emmett, who had a serious and proud expression on his puffy face. He was always very proud to represent his house, especially since Morgan often prevented him from doing it, hiding him away in shame of his disabilities. However, now Morgan had specifically commanded both Emerson and Emmett to welcome the guests, and Emerson couldn’t help but think that the Lord may have intended it as an insult towards these visitors.
Soon Emerson, Emmett and the dozen city guardsmen that rode with them… [view original content]
[Go to Esperence's meeting] This was a very interesting part! From what I can tell, it does seem that House Allyrion is no doubt more divide… mored then I initially thought with Esperence's play for power or whatever she is after now being made more public with more men of hers showing up in Godsgrace. This choice is a very tough one for me because on one hand, I really do want to see the Jamison-Morgan Allyrion meeting firsthand but going to Esperence's meeting could teach us more about her true plans. It is very interesting that they are having their meeting at the same time that the Daynes are here though that is for sure and if there is something to that, I can't say I am sure at this point. However for now, I will vote for Emerson to go to Morgan's meeting for now. I really want to see this Jamison and Morgan Allyrion conversation since from what I have seen so far, Morgan is pretty unlikable with how he treats Emerson and a bit of a bully and… [view original content]
Oh okay that is awesome and definitely changes things a little bit and actually may lead me to changing my vote. I'll think on that a little more though. By the way, it was pretty cool seeing Jamison from Emerson's perspective in this part. It is going to be interesting to see how Jamison interacts with Morgan now that he believes Morgan has insulted him
I can say that it was pretty damn weird writing him as a non-PoV. Hopefully he is still recognizable though. And yeah, another interesting meeting for Jamison incoming
Oh okay that is awesome and definitely changes things a little bit and actually may lead me to changing my vote. I'll think on that a little… more more though. By the way, it was pretty cool seeing Jamison from Emerson's perspective in this part. It is going to be interesting to see how Jamison interacts with Morgan now that he believes Morgan has insulted him
Emerson
Emerson rode down the Iron Street, where the sound of hammering from the forges of blacksmiths filled the air. He was on his way … moreto the Western Gate of the city of Godsgrace, also known as the Iron Gate. Emerson was soon going to be welcoming a royal guest, but his thoughts dwelled on Esperence and Morgan. He had kept his cousin’s secrets from Morgan, but he was still unsure if he could really trust her.
Next to Emerson rode his younger cousin Emmett, who had a serious and proud expression on his puffy face. He was always very proud to represent his house, especially since Morgan often prevented him from doing it, hiding him away in shame of his disabilities. However, now Morgan had specifically commanded both Emerson and Emmett to welcome the guests, and Emerson couldn’t help but think that the Lord may have intended it as an insult towards these visitors.
Soon Emerson, Emmett and the dozen city guardsmen that rode with them… [view original content]
Comments
Voting is closed!
Missy will spend time with Larry and Tom. It will certainly make an interesting part, I can say that much.
Alright, so I haven't been writing at all past few days, because I've been sick, and still am actually. However, when I feel a bit more fresh again, I'll start writing a Naemon part. Last time we saw him he was at Starfall, taking part in a feast with the Daynes. During this feast, King Vorian asked if Naemon would like to have Davos Dayne as his squire, and you voted for him to agree to it. I'll probably start the next part straight from the private meeting between Naemon, Vorian, Malcolm and Alester, after the feast.
Sorry for taking so long with this, it was hard to get back to writing after being sick for almost a week. Anyway, here it comes:
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Naemon
Naemon let out a little sigh as he sat down to the finely crafted wooden chair in the council chamber of Starfall. Around the table were also King Vorian, his son Malcolm, his brother Garret Dayne, and Lord Alester Upton. Soon Naemon could finally do what Gwendis had sent him here to do – plead for the aid of the Daynes.
Vorian looked calm and majestic on his chair, a warm look on his purple eyes. Malcolm sat next to the King, and it looked almost like he was trying to imitate his father with his behavior and expression. Couple seats away from them sat Alester, who had a sharp look on his eyes, his gaze traveling from the Daynes to Naemon, and back to the Daynes again. Garret sat close to Naemon, a subtle smile constantly on his face. He had already thanked Naemon for taking his son Davos as squire, and Naemon could only hope that he’d be a worthy mentor for the boy. However, now was not the time to think about that.
“I know why you have traveled all the way here, Naemon.” Vorian started, his voice smooth and calm. “Reports of the war between Blackmonts, Fowlers and Manwoodys have reached my ears, and I know that soon the three kingdoms will battle over the dominion of the Wide Way.”
“I suppose so.” Naemon replied calmly. “Though I have not come here to ask you to join the war for the Wide Way.” He said, and Vorian raised an eyebrow for this. “You haven’t?” He asked with a touch of confusion in his words. “Why then?”
“The Kingdom of Blackmont is riddled with all kinds of problems – poverty and internal conflicts. The war is only making the situation worse.” Naemon explained, looking straight to the eyes of his uncle. "These are the things we need your help with."
“I understand.” The King responded calmly. “So, you need help in keeping the order in your lands?” Naemon let out a sigh as he nodded. “Some food for the poor would also be needed.” He said quietly, and Vorian nodded again.
“We will help the best we can, of course, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to give as much as you have probably hoped for.” Vorian spoke with an apologetic tone. “I have already promised financial aid for King Lucifer Dryland, in his war against the Rhoynar invaders.” The King explained, letting out a sigh as he spoke.
“But… You have something to give, right?” Naemon asked, a touch of frustration in his words. Vorian nodded slowly. “I have to take care of my own kingdom as well, as I’m sure you understand, but I can provide you with some crops and other supplies. I also believe House Upton might have some troops to spare for keeping the peace, am I correct?” The King turned his eyes towards Alester as he asked this.
“We are the most loyal house you’ll find, Your Grace.” Alester answered proudly, scratching his red beard. “I have to ask though; do you think it’s wise to send my troops away? We are the last defense before the Starfall.” Vorian didn’t seem concerned, and answered calmly. “There is no immediate threat for Starfall, and we must play the long game. In fact, making sure that Blackmont stays strong is for our own good as well.” The King had a pensive look on his eyes as he spoke. Alester looked confused, and furrowed his eyebrows. However, he wasn’t the one who spoke up.
“What do you mean, brother?” Garret asked, his expression just as confused as Alester’s. King Vorian let out a small sigh before he answered. “The Martells seek dominion over the whole Dorne, Albin Manwoody sees all of the Red Mountains as his own, all the while Yorick Yronwood gathers his powers, only to strike when all his rivals are weakened by these petty wars.” Vorian turned his eyes to Naemon now. “I will do what I can to make sure that the Daynes and Blackmonts can stand strong together, when the time comes to face these enemies.” A small smile was formed on Naemon’s face, and he nodded to his uncle.
“I am thankful of that, Your Grace.” He said quietly. For a moment the chamber was silent, until Alester cleared his throat again. “Your Grace.” He started politely. “My troops will march with Prince Naemon, to help him reclaim control over his lands, but I wish to lead these troops personally.” Naemon rolled his eyes subtly. Of course I have to keep watching his mug.
“That can be arranged.” King Vorian replied casually, and Alester bowed to him with gratitude. Vorian turned towards Naemon again. “You should leave soon, go with Lord Alester and his troops.” He said decisively. “The crops and other supplies will be transported behind you, but it will take a while for them to reach Blackmont, as the road north is a hard one for carts and large convoys.”
“I understand.” Naemon replied calmly, happy that he had succeeded in his mission. Gwen will be proud, he thought, unable to hold back the smile.
“It’s been a long night, and I think we all could use some sleep.” The King said, already standing up from his chair. However, he was cut off, this time by his son. “Wait.” Malcolm said, his voice surprisingly tense. Vorian turned to look at him with questioning gaze, and the Prince gulped. “I… Wanted to ask if I could join Naemon and Alester on this mission.” He spoke with uncertainty, and Vorian raised an eyebrow.
“Why?” The King simply asked, and Malcolm let out a sigh. “You keep talking about these threats, Albin Manwoody, the Rhoynar, the Yronwoods… I’m to be the King one day, yet I have no true experience on handling conflicts.” He spoke with serious tone, and Vorian nodded to him.
“I see.” He said quietly, thinking for a moment before continuing. “I believe I have taught you well, but perhaps you are correct… Experience is the best teacher. However, my authority doesn’t reach Blackmont. I will let you go, but you must ask Prince Naemon, the leader of this mission, if he wants to take you with him.” Now Malcolm turned to look at Naemon, clearly struggling to find words.
“Um… Would you mind if I joined this mission, Prince Naemon?” Malcolm asked with an awkward tone, and Naemon scratched his head. He hadn’t expected that he would have to make such a decision. Malcolm was a nice and friendly guy, but taking him would mean that Naemon would be responsible over the life of the heir to Kingdom of Torrentine. Do I want such responsibility?
[Take Malcolm with you] [Don't take Malcolm with you]
[Don't take Malcolm with you]
[Take Malcolm with you]
[Take Malcolm with you]
This is a risk. This is a big risk, but I am choosing it regardless because of the benefits it holds. First of all, it will most likely mean a lot more screentime for Malcolm, whom I have grown to like. Second, there is the diplomatic benefit of this. Malcolm is the heir of his kingdom, so getting good contacts to Blackmont might be a good thing for both kingdoms. Third, it will undoubtedly give him a lot of experience, which can come in handy during his rule. Obviously, he will never be king, but House Dayne could certainly need a good and experienced lord in the days after Vorian. On the other hand stands the danger that he is going to be wounded or even outright killed in the conflict up there, which would likely irrevocably ruin the relationship between the two kingdoms. But I see this as a relatively small chance, considering that Malcolm is likely to be strictly guarded. That said, I might ultimately end up changing my vote again if I can think of more that would speak against taking Malcolm, but right now, this seems like both, the better and more interesting option.
[Don't take Malcolm with you]
I agree with Liquid that it would be more interesting to have the two heirs of their kingdoms travel together. However, I feel the risks are too great. If something terrible were to befall Malcolm, Naemon might be the one held responsible for it. This could ruin the relationship between the Blackmonts and the Daynes and ruin the chances of this trifecta alliance Vorian was speaking about from occurring. However, Liquid did make some convincing points in taking him along. I might change my mind/vote, but right now I'm going to say it is too risky to bring him.
[Don't take Malcolm with you]
[Take Malcolm with you] This choice is certainly not a easy one for me since there is a massive risk of Malcolm getting hurt or even killed with what is going in Blackmont but at the same time, there are also some positives that come with this choice. Malcolm will gain valuable political experience which would only help him while also stepping away from Vorian which is something that for the most part he has never done. Plus I can also see Naemon and Malcolm being positive influences for each other with both maybe helping the other's weaknesses. My bad for creating a tie
I may end up changing my vote if I think of a reason to do so.
Nah, don't worry about the tie. Both you and Liquid have voted for taking Malcolm, and this choice is about your characters, so if the tie is not broken I'll just go with this option
Voting is closed!
And Naemon will take Malcolm with him to the mission. Well, technically it was a tie, but in this case I'm favoring the votes of the creators of Naemon and Malcolm
Anyway, the next part is (hopefully) ready today, and it's a special one! It is none of the regular PoVs, and it takes place in the Wide Way, that's what I can reveal
Guardian of the Wide Way
Early in the morning the scouts had rode to the camp from the north, informing that the army of the Manwoodys was approaching. Now it was already past noon, and Ser Russal rode his white horse, clad on his silver Royal Guard armor, watching as the soldiers were forming the battle lines on the canyon. This was the most important chokepoint on the Wide Way – if the Manwoodys would get through from here there would be no way to stop them from raiding the lands of the Fowlers.
Russal rode past the lines of soldiers with a stern expression on his face. On the frontlines were the pikemen, ready to hold back whatever the Manwoodys would throw against them. They were all veterans, hardened warriors who had seen battles before. Still Russal could spot the nervousness in some of their eyes. Not good.
Russal kept moving, and behind the frontlines of pikemen was the bulk of the army, infantry mainly made of peasants that were in a battle for the first time in their lives. The luckiest of them were armed with castle forged swords, but most had to settle for pitchforks, knives and wooden spears. Majority of these people came from the mountains and valleys near the Skyreach, but there were also some from the tribes of the deserts.
The sergeants were trying to get the lines in array, but these were poorly trained men, undisciplined and scared for their lives. With a sigh Russal continued past them, finally reaching the small unit of the archers behind all the infantry. At least most of them were well trained, though some were just hunters from the mountains. Behind the archers was the cavalry of the army, led by Prince Ferris himself. Ser Russal arrived next to his prince with a serious look on his eyes. Ferris looked slightly uncomfortable in his heavy armor. He is not used to wearing it. Ser Russal and Ferris both knew it was supposed to be Desmor leading this army, but the marriage proposal from the Blackmonts had changed that. And now the damn Blackmonts aren’t even here to help us.
“No news?” Ferris asked quietly, and Russal shook his head subtly. “The earlier report stands – Manwoodys will be here in less than an hour.” He spoke with a grim tone. There was a reason for this grim atmosphere – they’d be heavily outnumbered against the Manwoodys. They had hoped for aid from the Blackmonts, they had hoped to muster more men from the mountains, they had hoped for aid from the Drinkwaters. Their hope had been in vain. We stand alone.
“The first line must not break, that is the most important thing.” Ferris said, at least trying to sound calm. “Easier said than done.” Ser Russal replied with a sigh. “It was a wise move to put the experienced fighters to the frontline, but I’m not sure if it will be enough… When they see the enemy, I’m afraid they’ll be shaken just by the sheer number of them.”
“What do you suggest then?” The Prince snapped, nervous tone on his voice. For a while Ser Russal gave no answer, as he wasn’t sure if there was one. Finally, something came to his mind, and he cleared his throat. “I’ll go there myself.” Russal said with quiet and serious words. “I’ll lead the frontlines, to keep the morale high. When they see a knight in silver armor of the Fowlers fighting alongside them, they won’t break… Or that’s what I hope.” The way Ferris looked at Russal was filled with both admiration and concern. “Are you sure you want to do this?” The Prince asked, his voice calm.
“I’ve done dishonorable things in the name of this kingdom, it’s time I do something honorable.” Russal responded, keeping his gaze away from the Prince. Ferris nodded slowly, and Ser Russal dismounted his horse. “I’ll go now… I hope I can continue to serve you and your father after this battle.” The Royal Guard said, turning his head to give one last look at the Prince.
“I hope so too.” Ferris Fowler responded quietly, respectfully saluting to Russal, who answered with a small bow. And so, Ser Russal turned away from the cavalry, walking towards the frontlines. As he walked past the infantry he unsheathed his shining steel longsword. He could feel the eyes of the peasant soldiers on him, as he walked past them, grabbing his shield from his back, showcasing the sigil of House Fowler. The look on his eyes was determined and strong, even if at least half of it was just a play, to make the soldiers feel encouraged.
Finally, he arrived to the frontlines, and made his way in front of the pikemen. The veterans looked at him, clearly waiting for him to speak up. Russal had never been good at speeches, he liked to show his worth with actions rather than with words, but he knew that now he would need to say something, to fill the hearts of these men with courage. Ser Russal removed his helmet, to make sure that at least those closest to him could see his eyes.
“Brothers!” He started with his strong voice, looking at these men who stood in lines, ready to defend their kingdom. There was fear and doubt in their eyes, but also a spark of something else. Hope?
“We stand here together, ready to defend our homes, our families!” Ser Russal continued, walking along the lines, keeping his eye contact with the soldiers. “Remember that there is a reason why we are here today, a cause worth fighting for, worth dying for! An enemy driven by nothing but madness is threatening our lands, and we are the last defense in their way!” Russal could now see some of the soldiers nodding their heads. “We are the guardians of the Wide Way, every one of us! History might not remember our names, but it will remember the heroes that stopped the madness of Albin Manwoody from spreading to the Kingdom of Stone and Sky!” This made the frontlines cheer, and Ser Russal could feel the relief flowing through his body. This feeling of relief didn’t last long though, as suddenly a deep horn sounded somewhere behind him. Ser Russal turned around, and far in the distance the Manwoody army could be seen approaching. Even from afar the crowned skulls could be seen in the black banners, and it was a truly terrifying sight. Russal pulled his helmet back on, and turned towards the frontline.
“Get ready, the enemy is approaching!” He shouted, and made his way behind the frontlines. The atmosphere of nervousness returned, and Russal could not blame the men for it. It was easy to see that the Manwoodys outnumbered them. “Sound the horns!” Russal commanded, and soon the sound of the high-pitched horns of the Fowlers could be heard booming in the canyon.
In the distance the first wave of the enemy army started to march towards them, and an eerie silence filled the air. Russal walked behind the frontlines, encouraging them and reminding them to stay in order. Minutes passed, as the enemy slowly approached.
The frontline of the enemy forces was made of lightly armored men, armed with everything from spears to axes to pitchforks. Behind them came a unit of archers. “Shields up!” Russal commanded, and the frontlines followed his orders. As the enemy infantry came closer and closer, their archers sent their first volley of arrows. Most of them hit the shields, not doing any damage, but few managed to slip through from the cracks between the shields, injuring few of the pikemen.
This was immediately followed by a volley from the Fowler archers, which landed on the enemy infantry. Many fell, but it hardly made a dent to the massive force. “Charge!” Someone shouted from the enemy lines as they got close enough, and so the Manwoody soldiers started to rush towards the frontlines of the Fowlers. Another volley of arrows hit them before they reached the frontline, but it didn’t stop them. Just before the Manwoody soldiers reached them, the Fowler frontline thrusted their pikes towards the approaching enemy. And then the world was filled with screams. Screams of rage, screams of fear, screams of agony. Some were screaming for their gods, others for their mothers.
The pikes effectively slaughtered a good amount of the first line of attackers, but after that many of the Manwoody soldiers managed to rush past the tips of the pikes, and in close contact with the frontline. Ser Russal started to see the first casualties among the Fowler soldiers, but the second line aided in keeping the situation under control. Then came another volley of arrows from the enemy. One landed just few feet away from Ser Russal. After the initial shock, he noticed that many of the pikemen had been hit, and now laid on the ground either injured or dead. “Hold the line!” Ser Russal shouted from the bottom of his lungs, and at the same time a volley of arrows from the Fowler archers flew over him, doing good damage on the enemy infantry.
After several minutes of the frontline holding, Ser Russal turned to look at left, and just a couple dozen feet away from him he could see a small group of the enemies breaking through the line. He raised his shield and clenched tightly to his sword, approaching these men who were now causing disorder on the lines. As the first one of them, a young man armed with a spear, saw him coming, Russal could see the fear in his blue eyes. He gave the shocked boy a quick death, thrusting his sword through his throat. With a gurgling the young man fell to the ground, on top of a Fowler soldier he had earlier killed. Next Russal approached a bearded heavy man who was brawling with one of the pikemen. Without a warning, he plunged his sword under the man’s right arm, where the armor didn’t protect him. The large man didn’t go down immediately though, but turned towards Ser Russal, trying to swing him with his axe. Russal parried the weak blow with ease though, and finished the man by slitting his throat.
After this Russal could see that the line was holding again, and the men who got through had all been killed. And then came another volley of arrows. Russal saw several men fall around him, but even worse, one of the arrows hit him. It landed on his leg, just above his knee on the inner side where the armor didn’t protect him. With a groan of pain, he stumbled to the ground, falling on top of dead bodies. His breathing got heavier, and the pain blurred his vision for a moment. He looked at the arrow, and as much as he wanted to just pull it out, he knew that wouldn’t be wise. So, Russal only broke the arrow from the middle so it didn’t limit his movement, and stood up with a flash of pain going through him. And then he saw that the frontline was about to be overwhelmed by the enemies.
Ser Russal hobbled away from the frontlines, clenching his teeth in agony. One of the sergeants from the reinforcement infantry ran to him, an old man with narrow face and brown eyes. “What are your orders?” The sergeant asked, a touch of panic in his words. Ser Russal took in a couple of deep breaths before answering.
“Send half of the reinforcements to the frontline.” He muttered, trying to sound strong and calm. The sergeant saluted to Ser Russal, quickly returning to his men to pass on the order. The frontline was already breaking, the pikemen were starting to retreat, and the enemy forces were pushing forward. Finally, the second line of Fowler infantry made their charge, stopping the advancing of the enemy.
Ser Russal charged into the battle with the reinforcements, though the pain in his leg slowed him down. The frontline was now a complete mess, the armies were literally fighting atop the bodies of those who had fallen earlier. There was no clear line between the forces anymore, and the horde of the enemies was overwhelming the Fowlers. The archers from either side couldn’t give supporting fire at the frontline anymore, as the forces were simply too muddled up.
The only thing that seemed to keep Ser Russal alive in this bloody chaos was his armor. As a well-crafted plated armor, it was of course protecting him from most of the strikes aimed at him, but it also had a psychological effect, making many of the enemies simply turn away from him and try to fight someone with a bit less armor on. However, there were some who dared to face Ser Russal head on. He killed most of them with ease though, even with his right leg slowing him down.
Minutes passed, the ground was wet and red from blood, and the frontline of Fowlers was being surrounded by the enemies. Ser Russal was starting to lose his hope, as he was getting more and more exhausted. Every enemy soldier that attacked him was harder to defeat than the last one. The Fowler cavalry charged once against the flanking Manwoody forces, and then retreated back to their position. It helped a bit, but still it seemed clear that the frontline was lost. The Fowler infantry was breaking, men were trying to run away and got slaughtered from behind. Ser Russal was almost ready to throw down his weapons and accept death, but then something happened. Horns started to sound from the distance. First Manwoody horns, but then something else. The fighting at the frontline stopped almost completely, as the Manwoody soldiers turned to look back towards their commanders. And then Ser Russal saw it – the Blackmont banners in the distance, a cavalry charging against the reinforcements of the Manwoodys.
“Retreat! Retreat!” The Manwoody soldiers screamed, and most of them ran away from the frontline, back towards their reinforcements that were now under the attack of the Blackmonts. Those who stayed and fought were either too injured or too stubborn to retreat, but they were killed quickly, as the rest of the Fowler reinforcements charged in to take care of the situation.
Ser Russal looked towards the battle going on between the Blackmonts and Manwoodys. He remembered the mission that King Garrison had given him over a month ago. He had killed Blackmont peasants, raided their villages in the name of the Mad Albin, and now they had come to save his life. Russal let out a deep sigh, and turned towards the Fowler army. The canyon was filled with bodies, hundreds of them, if not thousands. The looks on the eyes of the Fowler soldiers ranged from relieved to shocked, and inside Russal had those exact same feelings. “Form a line!” He commanded the soldiers, who followed his order. He turned to look towards the battle again, and could see that the Manwoodys were starting to retreat. It was over.
No decision
Hm, I must say that I feel some very strong antipathy against Russal for his actions, especially since he had success with them. Dragging the Blackmonts into the war, murdering innocents, perhaps killing more Blackmonts than Albin Manwoody ever would have and with that even triggering the events of Gwendis' part, because the alliance with House Fowler wouldn't have been necessary if not for the war with the Manwoody's. I mean, I am happy that these people got driven back and defeated, but I really think that he would have deserved to be killed in this battle. But well, he is basically Garrison's pawn, so there's the good chance that his king is just going to get rid of him sooner or later. His knowledge is dangerous after all, so there is the hope that he gets what he deserves.
And I loved that battle scene in general, that was very detailed! It really seems to me that Albin has to face defeat pretty soon. With the combined might of two kingdoms and after just suffering a potentially crippling defeat, it is possible that Albin's war is already over before it truly began. I wonder if he really has a trump card left somewhere.
Yes, Ser Russal is indeed quite morally ambigious character. He is ready to do some grimy stuff with little remorse, but in the end he is - like you said - just a pawn. In a way this guy is the embodiment of the more shady side of Garrison. Tbh, him dying here in this battle would've probably been a huge relief to the King, but well, the bastard went and stayed alive XD
I'm glad you liked the battle though!
It's indeed a huge loss for the Manwoodys, but they may have some tricks up their sleeve still.
Well this was a no doubt a very exciting part and a huge victory for House Blackmont and House Fowler! I really enjoyed seeing this PoV from Ser Russal and it really told alot about him to me. While he obviously did some appalling things to get the Blackmonts involved in this war, this part certainly showed the loyalty that Russal has for his kingdom as well. He went out and fought on the frontlines with what looked to be a guaranteed death coming for him all to rally their scared troops the best that he could. Safe to say I really enjoyed Russal as a PoV in this part!
One of the big questions I have had since Gwendis ran away was if the Fowler and Blackmont alliance is still on and it seems for the time being that it is but it has also left me with some interesting thoughts and theories as well. I found it really interesting that the Blackmont army came in at the end with House Fowler almost defeated and I can't help but wonder if that was on purpose and it really makes me wonder if House Blackmont has somehow found out about what Garrison pulled to bring them into the war and wanted to weaken the Fowler army potentially. With Gwendis no longer there, the Blackmont-Fowler alliance will not be able to stand that way so it will be interesting to see if that alliance proposal is off or if the Isabella-Naemon betrothal is back on the table or what will happen. I am probably looking into the Blackmonts coming in late far too much but I suppose that means you have done an excellent job creating excitement for the upcoming parts! It also seems that House Manwoody's war may be over before it even truly began but I also definitely see them having something else up their sleeve. Overall this was an excellent part and one of my favorites of the whole story. Great job!
No voting to close this time, but here comes a little announcement. So, I've made progress with the next part, and hope to have it done today. It'll be a Dianna PoV, and since it's been a while from her last part, I suppose a small recap is in place:
So, Dianna, Javor and Ser Dallin Dalt with their soldiers are on a mission on the lands of House Granit, to find and kill Efran Sand. The mysterious old man named Wylie is also traveling with them. Last time, they had made their way to a crumbled old sept on the desert, where several bodies laid on the ground, indicating that there had been some sort of skirmish between the troops of House Granit and the bandits of the Bandit Lord. They investigated the sept, and found out that something had been taken from the cellar of the sept (probably the gold that we saw Efran later bringing to the cave in Verro's part). After this, they decided to continue the mission by making their way to Desertstone, the seat of House Granit. And that's where we will continue Dianna's storyline.
Dianna
Dianna sat opposed to Lord Byrant Granit, on the stony hall of Desertstone. Lord Byrant was a regal man on his early fifties, with greying hair that was combed back, and gaunt clean shaven face. The look on his dark eyes was sharp, and the expression on his face looked to be constantly cold and calculating.
“This is the help that Lord Darin sends me.” Byrant said almost mockingly, his stare traveling from Dianna to Javor to Ser Dallin Dalt, and back to Dianna again. “Too little, too late.” His voice was cold and bitter.
“Actually, we were sent by Princess Nymeria.” Dianna corrected the Lord, who only bridled at the remark. “Princess of nothing.” He replied callously, and Dianna furrowed her eyebrows. “Do you not recognize her authority?” She asked, keeping her voice as calm as she could. Byrant let out a joyless chuckle, shaking his head subtly.
“She has done nothing to convince me that she holds any power outside Sandship.” The Lord of Desertstone answered with a dry tone, making Dianna narrow her eyes. “She has sent me here to take care of the Bandit Lord.” She spoke sharply, but Byrant didn’t look convinced. “And I can promise to you that House Dalt also is doing its best in this situation.” Ser Dallin added calmly.
“I said it already… too little, too late.” Byrant replied, keeping his gaze at the surface of the table. “Efran Sand, aided by my wretched brother, is simply too strong. I am trapped here in my castle, while the scum of the Bastard’s Bastard roam on my lands, taking what they want, when they want.” Silence followed the Lord’s words, until finally Javor cleared his throat.
“Then I suppose it’s time to do something about it, mylord.” He said, a subtle hint of a smile on his face. Byrant turned his eyes on him, anger in his gaze. “Do you really think I haven’t tried to do something about it?” The Lord hissed, clenching his fists.
“Apologies, mylord.” Javor responded quickly, trying to calm down Byrant. “What I meant was that we are ready to help you, if only you let us.” The Martell captain glanced at Dianna and Dallin as he spoke. Byrant tapped the surface of the table with his fingers, a pondering look on his eyes. Finally, he let out a sigh. “I suppose there is something you could try.” He said quietly.
“Just tell us, and we will.” Ser Dallin said in an encouraging manner. “House Dalt wants to help its vassals.” He assured, and Lord Byrant gave him a doubting glare. “The Tower of Griefhill, that’s where the enemy is.” He stated emotionlessly, leaning against the back of his seat and crossing his arms. “They have manned it for a couple of months now. I believe it is one of their main bases.”
“And do you think we’d find Efran Sand from there?” Dianna asked, but the Lord of Desertstone just gave him an unenthusiastic shrug. “With good luck, perhaps.” He said with a sigh. “Though I’ve heard that he stays constantly on the move, never staying in one location for long.”
“Well, whoever is in charge of this base in Griefhill must be someone quite important, even if he isn’t Efran himself.” Ser Dallin spoke with a hopeful tone on his voice, and Byrant raised an eyebrow. “I have sent men there before, but every time they have been defeated.” He said, turning his gaze from Dallin to Dianna. “I have very little hope that you’d be any more successful.”
“I have no need for your hope.” Dianna replied sternly. “Though I would be thankful if you could give us a couple of your men, to guide us to Griefhill.” Lord Byrant chuckled coldly at Dianna’s words, but gave her an agreeing nod.
“Sure, that can be arranged.” He said, a small touch of amusement in his words. “It would of course be a pleasure to see you return here victorious, but I’m not holding my breath.”
-
After the meeting, Dianna wandered around the castle, eventually making her way to the courtyard. There she saw Wylie, standing calmly next to the wall. The old man had a small smile on his face, and a dreamy look on his turquoise eyes.
“What are you smiling at?” Dianna asked, her words coming out a bit more harsh than necessary. Wylie turned to look at her, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I was just looking at young love blossoming.” He answered with a smirk, and Dianna turned her eyes to the direction Wylie had looked earlier. She could see Lysera and Gerrar together next to a pillar, holding hands and talking to each other with shy looks on their eyes.
“Oh gods.” Dianna said with a sigh, and Wylie chuckled. “What? Would you forbid the youth from having a spark of love in their life?” He asked with a playful tone. Dianna shook her head, and let a small smile form to her face. “No, of course not.” She said casually. “I just hope they stay focused when we continue our mission.” Now Dianna turned her eyes to Wylie again. This old man had truly surprised her – not once during their journey had he shown any signs of being tired, and he had proven himself to have keen eyes and sharp mind.
“That brings to my mind… Where will you go from here?” Dianna finally asked, and Wylie let out a deep sigh. “I have a long journey ahead of me.” He answered calmly. “And sadly, it looks like I must walk through a warzone… An old friend of mine has summoned me, a friend from west.”
“So, you plan to travel through the whole Dorne alone?” Dianna asked with a touch of concern in her words. Wylie was perhaps lively and strong for his age, but such a long travel through such dangerous lands would be risky for anyone.
“Don’t worry about me, Captain Dianna.” Wylie responded with a smirk. “I have survived worse journeys, I’ll make it through this one as well.” Dianna nodded to him subtly. “I’m sure you were younger when you survived those journeys.” She said dryly, and Wylie let out a hearty little laughter. “I suppose so, we are all getting older every day after all.” He replied lightheartedly.
“You seem like a good man, Wylie.” Dianna stated, a small smile on her face. “I wish I could’ve known you for longer.” She added, and Wylie raised his eyebrow again. “Who knows, Captain, perhaps we’ll meet again.” He replied, a tranquil and peaceful tone on his voice. Dianna nodded to the old man with a respectful smile on her face, and walked away.
She approached Lysera and Gerrar, and cleared her throat as she was around ten feet away from them. Gerrar instantly pulled his hand away from Lysera’s hand, and nervousness took over the eyes of the lanky young man as he turned to look at Dianna. Lysera was also blushing, though she at least was capable of opening her mouth.
“Captain Dianna.” Lysera greeted, saluting her. Gerrar followed the example quickly, gulping as he did. “Lysera, Gerrar.” Dianna greeted them with a lazy tone. “Did you hear yet how the mission will continue from here?” She asked them casually, and this time Gerrar spoke up.
“I- I heard the Dalt soldiers talking about going to some place called Griefhill.” He spoke with timid tone, and Dianna nodded to him. “Aha, then you heard correctly.” She replied. “We will make our way towards the Tower of Griefhill tomorrow. So, rest well tonight, because where we are going will be dangerous.” Both young soldiers nodded to their captain, and a small smile was formed on Dianna’s face. “You can continue whatever you were doing.” She said playfully, as she turned away from them.
As Dianna walked back towards the keep, she looked around herself. Soldiers in the colors of Martells, Dalts, and Granits walked around the courtyard, grim looks on their faces. A war is ahead.
No decision
Sorry for another part without choices. I really tried to come up with something, but I just felt there was no meaningful way to include a choice to this part.
That was a great part! I don't mind the lack of a choice, it felt nice enough without it
And I must say, Bryant gives me a bit of a bad vibe here. His clear lack of respect for Nymeria is a bit concerning. I mean, she is the only one that actually can help him with his problems. Now I have to wonder if he's just a jerk, or if Lord Dalt feels similar. And I really think I have underestimated Efran, considering how afraid Bryant seems to be of him. I can see something pretty big coming out of this story. Though the one thing I am a bit surpised of is how certain Bryant is that he knows where his enemies are located. I am willing to bet that things won't be that easy.
I'm glad at least you enjoyed the part! Because honestly, aside from this being a plotpoint that has to happen in Dianna's storyline, I didn't really have much inspiration for this part
The next part (imo at least) is going to be more interesting and will 100% sure also have a choice 
But yeah, Lord Byrant really isn't that different from his brother Ser Byrron - they are both stern cold assholes. And Dianna's storyline should indeed get pretty interesting as we get further to the chapter.
Alright, so because the last part had no choices there is no need to keep waiting - the next part will most likely be ready today, and will have a choice
Anyway, after a veeery long time, we will have a Tomas Toland PoV. If you have forgot, Tomas is the younger brother of Donovar Toland (the King of the Ghost Hills who was killed by Forovos Norvoshi in the finale of Chapter 1). In Chapter 1 Tomas was raiding the lands of House Martell, but was eventually taken down by a surprise attack led by Ser Yandry of Olivegrove, who sadly died in the battle. Tomas however was taken as prisoner and brought to Sandship, where he has been locked away to the cells. In her first part in this chapter, Princess Nymeria visited the cell of Tomas, telling him that Donovar had died, and that Tomas would need to be the one who'd convince Donovar's son and heir (Levor Toland) from starting another war.
Tomas
Tomas Toland opened his eyes, but the room around him was so dark that it hardly made a difference. Only a faint light made its way into the cell from the keyhole of the door. Tomas was weak, weaker than he had ever been before. His throat was dry, his body was aching, and he could hardly muster enough strength to sit up. Donovar is dead. It was the first thing he thought as he woke up. The Rhoynar Princess had told it to him, but could it really be true? The dreadful thought of it haunted him, as he envisioned the dead eyes of his brother, staring into nothingness. The once so proud man, the King, had fallen against foreign invaders. And here I am, rotting in a cell. Tomas clenched his fists, but it only made him feel how powerless he had become. How did it come to this?
Tomas stared at the keyhole of the door, it was the only thing he could focus into. He tried to imagine what was happening out there, outside of this wretched dark room. Perhaps Levor had been crowned as king, and was now amassing an army to avenge his father, perhaps the army was already on the move, perhaps this castle was under a siege right now. Perhaps there is still hope.
Tomas leaned his head against the cold stone wall, letting out a deep sigh. After every passing minute, he was more and more convinced that he would die here, in a damp dungeon under the Sandship. Did it even matter whether the Tolands would rise to glory again or fall to complete destruction, if he would never be there to witness it? The uncertainty was like a sting in his heart. Tomas had dedicated his whole life to serving his house and the gods, but here in this darkness he had to wonder if it had all been in vain.
As Tomas’ eyes finally started to adjust to the dark, he heard voices outside the cell. Steps, approaching. It would mostly likely just be a guard bringing him water and food, of course only just enough to keep him alive. A key entered the keyhole, shrouding the faint light, and then with a screech, the door was opened. By the doorframe stood a man and a woman. The man stepped closer, and even in the darkness this man had such a strong presence that it made Tomas back up against the wall.
“Stand up.” The man spoke with emotionless tone, keeping his voice down. And there was no reason for him to raise his voice, as it was so commanding and confident that it left no room for questions. Tomas obeyed, clumsily getting up on his feet.
“What is this?” Tomas asked nervously, his voice hardly audible. “Congratulations, Toland, the Princess is giving you a second chance.” The man answered, a piercing glare on his dark eyes. “Now, follow.” He commanded, proceeding to walk out of the cell. The woman still stood by the door, looking at Tomas. “You heard, what he said. Move.” She commanded, and with a sigh Tomas walked out of the cell. He followed after the man who was clad in heavy armor, while the woman walked behind him. They made their way up the stairs, and into the halls of Sandship.
Now, in the light, Tomas could see that the man that was leading him had to be at least on his early fifties. He had a black receding hair, olive skin, and a long and thin face with a stern expression on it. Without a word, he led them to large wooden doors, and turned to look at Tomas.
“I would advise you to be cooperative, Tomas Toland.” He said with quiet but strong voice. Tomas nodded quietly, and the man proceeded to open the doors. Behind the doors was a large room, probably a council chamber. And there was a table, three people sitting by it. In the middle sat Princess Nymeria, glaring at Tomas with narrowed eyes. On her left sat Prince Mors, with a calm and relaxed presence. On the right of the Princess was a bald and slender man, dressed in fine black silk tunic, a sharp look on his blue eyes. There was something unsettling about this man, but Tomas couldn’t quite point out what it was.
“Thank you, General Varyn and Captain Sanyra.” The Princess said to the man and woman who had brought Tomas in. “Sit down, Tomas.” She continued with a surprisingly polite tone, gesturing for him to sat to the seat opposed to them. Tomas walked to the table with a stern expression. As he sat down, his gaze traveled from the Prince, to the Princess, and finally to this mysterious bald man. General Varyn also made his way to the table, sitting next to Prince Mors, while Captain Sanyra stayed by the doors.
“What do you want from me?” Tomas asked, his voice coarse and weak. A small smile was formed on the face of Nymeria. “I want your help, Tomas Toland.” She said calmly. With confusion Tomas furrowed his eyebrows, but the Princess kept on a calm face. “As I told you earlier, you must be the one to convince your brother’s heir not to wage war against us.” She explained, and Tomas shook his head subtly.
“And what if I don’t want to?” He asked, his voice defiant and bitter. Nymeria let out a cold and joyless chuckle. “You’d rather see your nephew die?” She asked strictly, and there was nothing left of the smile that was earlier on her face.
“This is all just to spare the useless bloodshed, Tomas.” Mors joined the conversation with his soft voice, and Tomas turned his gaze down. “What would you have me do?” He asked, no power in his words. “Tell my nephew to forgive those who murdered his father? Demand him to forget his grief and bend the knee to foreign invaders?”
“House Martell had nothing to do with the murder of Donovar Toland.” The bald man suddenly spoke up, his voice smooth and calm. “The reports tell it was someone from his own army, someone called Tylan Sager.” He continued, and Tomas narrowed his eyes. “I know Tylan, he would never do that.” He muttered, but the bald man just shrugged with a small chuckle.
“Perhaps you didn’t know him as well as you thought.” He replied with a sly tone, and Tomas slammed his fist on the table. “No.” He said, clenching his teeth. “This is bullshit, I don’t believe it. And who in seven hells even are you?” Tomas asked angrily, staring at the bald man with fury in his eyes.
“My name is Forovos Norvoshi.” The man answered calmly, pressing his fingers together. “I am a keyholder of the Iron Bank of Braavos, a business partner of the Martells.” He explained with a faked smile on his face.
“He will be the neutral third party in the peace negotiations between our houses.” Mors said to Tomas, who bridled to this. “Neutral? It seems to me like he has very much chosen his side.” He barked, but the people opposed to him stayed calm.
“You can trust me, Tomas, the Iron Bank never truly chooses sides. We invest to the wisest options, but we are always ready to reconsider.” The words came out smoothly and gracefully as the loan peddler spoke, but Tomas found it hard to trust this man.
“Whether you trust Forovos or not, preventing this war is something you must do, Toland.” Nymeria spoke up again, a sharp tone on her voice. “The army of your house has been broken, and whatever Levor Toland can muster won’t be enough. It will only lead to suffering.” The Princess’ words were harsh, but Tomas was afraid that she might be correct.
“Then what is it that you want me to do?” He asked, keeping his voice calm, and the small smile returned to the face of the Princess. “Travel with Forovos to Ghost Hill, sit down with your nephew, and offer him this.” With the last words Nymeria handed Tomas a scroll. He opened it, seeing that it was a peace treaty. “And what if Levor doesn’t listen to me?” He asked with quiet and serious tone, but Nymeria just shook her head subtly.
“You don’t have to worry about that, Tomas.” She said, a hint of a threat in her tone. “Just try to make it clear to him that this is for his own good.”
Tomas gulped subtly. Forovos, Nymeria, Mors and Varyn all stared at him, waiting for his answer. Perhaps choosing to cooperate now would be inevitable to save his house from destruction, but at the same time it felt wrong. Would it be a treasonous act? Tomas couldn’t tell, and the uncertainty was like a sting in his heart.
[Cooperate] [Refuse to cooperate]
[Cooperate]
Alright, it really doesn't look like Tomas has any genuine choice here. If he refuses to cooperate, the Martells have no reason to leave him alive, considering that even his value as a hostage is not particularly high. He's the uncle of the new king and therefore not exactly the most valuable family member to keep hostage. We don't know how the Toland's are faring now, after their king is dead, but if they pos any kind of threat again, then I'm sure Forovos can do something against it. He did it once, what's stopping him from doing it again? Tomas has to cooperate, or else there's really no chance for him to survive, with his entire house being in danger on top of that. Though I don't like him in particular, my dislike for him is not high enough to get him killed just yet.
[Cooperate]
I would rather not get his young nephew killed.
[Cooperate]
[Cooperate]
From the look of things, the Tolands have already been defeated with their king being killed and if I remember right, his heir is only 14 or 15 so he is most likely not the most experienced leader. We don't know what Levor's personality is truly like but if he is anything like his father, he will try and continue what his father started while avenging him as well. So safe to say it is probably for the best if Tomas cooperates with Nymeria and Mors so he can save his house from utter ruin and also save his nephew from potentially being killed by Forovos.
[Cooperate]
Voting is closed!
This one is clear, Tomas will cooperate with the Martells, travelling to Ghost Hill with Forovos to try and convince Levor to drop any possible plans for avenging his father. It's pretty fucked up really, knowing that Forovos is the one who murdered Donovar in the first place
Also, I can now reveal that refusing to cooperate would not have led to the Martells killing Tomas - though they certainly wouldn't have treated him very nicely either. Anyway, the rest of this conversation will be seen later from the PoV of Nymeria.
The next part will be ready in a day or two, and it'll be a Nealia PoV. So far in this chapter Nealia (along with the rest of the Rose Company) has been in Salt Shore. There they had a meeting with a bandit leader named Corren, who works for Efran Sand. In this meeting Corren acted disrespectfully towards Nealia, groping her, which led to her punching him in the face. This almost led to a fight breaking out between the two groups, but Tryden managed to calm down Corren. Nealia was disappointed in herself, and later in the tavern got drunk. This lead to Lien Yu, also drunk, coming to her table to cheer her up. They shared a moment, and Lien kissed Nealia. You voted for Nealia to keep kissing her.
Nealia
Nealia opened her eyes. Her head was aching, and her whole body was sweating. She turned around on her bed, seeing Lien Yu sleeping next to her.
“Oh.” She let out lazily, starting to remember last night. With a sigh, she got up from the bed and started to dress up. As she pulled on her tunic, Nealia turned to look at Lien again, who was just now starting to wake up. The YiTish woman turned her tired mismatched eyes to Nealia, raising an eyebrow.
“Morning.” She said and yawned, and Nealia gave her a dry chuckle. “Morning to you too. I wonder if you remember more about last night than I do.” She said casually, and a smirk was formed on Lien’s face.
“Well, I remember that it was pretty fun.” She said playfully, and Nealia nodded calmly. “And that’s all it was – some fun. Nothing more, okay?” Nealia spoke with a meaningful tone, and Lien nodded in agreement. “Sure, let’s go with that.” She said and yawned again. Then the door of the room was knocked. “Who the-“ Nealia’s sentence was cut off by the voice of Illor sounding from the other side of the door. “Nealia, it’s me, Illor. Could you open the door?” The Braavosi requested with a polite tone, and Nealia walked to the door, and opened it. Illor stood there with his armor on, and immediately his eyes glanced past Nealia, seeing Lien laying on the bed. Awkwardly he turned his eyes back to Nealia, a somewhat confused look on his face.
“Um, did you want to say something?” Nealia asked, trying to sound polite and friendly, and after a couple seconds of silence, Illor nodded to her. “Oh, yes, just wanted to say that we are leaving in an hour, so, gear up and get ready.” Nealia nodded to Illor’s words, and then the Braavosi sellsword awkwardly turned around and walked away. Nealia closed the door and let out a sigh.
“What is it?” Lien asked with genuine interest in her voice. Nealia walked back to the bed and sat down before answering. “Well, I’m not sure, but I think Illor may have been… interested in me, if you know what I mean.” She said, uncertainty in her words.
“And you?” Lien asked, curiosity in her eyes, but Nealia just let out a joyless chuckle. “I have never liked men, in that way.” She answered, scratching her head as she spoke. “Only girls, huh?” Lien asked, sounding slightly surprised, and Nealia gave her a nod.
“Well, don’t worry about it too much.” Lien said, finally sitting up and starting to reach for her clothes. “Illor is a good man, he’ll understand.”
“I hope he does.” Nealia replied quietly. Her mind returned to the meeting in the warehouse, and how she had punched the bandit leader Corren. In that moment it had felt satisfying, showing that disgusting fucker that he held no power over Nealia, but in retrospect it had clearly been a reckless move from her. “Are you okay?” Lien asked, as she had clearly noticed the gloomy expression on Nealia’s face.
“I’m fine.” She replied dismissingly. “I just hope Tryden isn’t too mad.” She added with a sigh, and Lien let out a quiet chuckle. She had dressed up by now, and stood up from the bed. “He’ll get over it.” Lien’s voice was carefree, and Nealia could only wish to be as relaxed as the YiTish lady was. “Anyway, I think I should go, Ying is probably already expecting me.” Lien’s eyes met with Nealia’s, and she gave her a nod.
“Sure, see you soon.” Nealia said, at least trying to smile. Lien replicated the small smile, and walked out of the room. As the door was closed, Nealia let out another sigh. She wondered if spending the night with Lien had been a good idea. Sure, they had both been drunk and it was just some fun, but Nealia was afraid their friendship could be a bit awkward from now on. She shrugged these thoughts off, put on her armor, and left the room.
On her way down the stairs to the taproom, Nealia saw Tryden standing in the middle of the room with his arms crossed. Quickly Tryden noticed Nealia, and gestured for her to come to him. Nealia gulped subtly, before making her way towards her boss. The look on Tryden’s eyes was calm, but there was also a hint of anger in them.
“Morning, Nealia.” Tryden pronounced the words slowly, his voice smooth and calm. Nealia took in a breath before answering – the last thing she wanted was to come off as weak to Tryden Flowers.
“Morning, Tryden.” Nealia finally answered with stern tone, and a humorless smile appeared on Tryden’s face. “I think we need to talk about yesterday.” He said coldly, his piercing stare falling on Nealia. “What’s there to talk?” Nealia asked defiantly, but Tryden didn’t back down.
“You risked everyone’s life in that warehouse with your recklessness.” He said, his voice even more serious now. “I don’t want to see that kind of behavior again.” Clearly this was meant to be the closing statement of the conversation, but Nealia still had something to say.
“It’s easy for you to say.” She spat, her temperament sparking. “You were not the one whose ass was being groped by Corren, were you?” Tryden chuckled dryly for the question, but the expression on his face stayed serious. “You are a bold one, Nealia, and that’s good.” He said, and now his voice was slightly softer. “However, act with the kind of stupidity that you did yesterday, and you won’t survive long in this life.” With these words, Tryden walked away from Nealia, not waiting for her answer. Nealia was mildly angered, but at least she felt like she could now move on from the incident in the warehouse.
She walked out of the tavern and into the main street of Salt Shore. Lien, Ying and Manda were on the side of the street, and Nealia was about to join their company, but then something caught her eye. On the distance, a small convoy of knights and soldiers were riding down the main street – clearly heading towards the castle. However, what truly sparked Nealia’s interest were the banners that the riders were carrying. White sword and a falling star on a purple field. These were Daynes, as baffling as that was to Nealia. What in seven hells are they doing here?
Nealia started to approach the riders, and as he got close enough he saw the man who was leading them – a sturdy and grim knight on his late thirties. Nealia recognized those blue eyes, dark hair and sharp facial features, he had seen this man dozens of times back in Starfall. “Ser Rolan Nightfall.” She said loudly, as the convoy was about to go right past her. Ser Rolan stopped his horse, and signaled for the rest of the convoy to do the same. Right next to him rode a young lad who shared many features with Ser Rolan, probably on his early teens, dressed in clothes that made his high status clear. He looked at Nealia with narrowed eyes. Probably the heir to Nightfall.
Ser Rolan also looked at Nealia with slight confusion, but in couple seconds the realization took over his eyes. “Nealia Sand.” He said quietly, clearly surprised to see her. “I’m… glad to see you’re still alive.”
“I’m glad to be alive.” Nealia quipped dryly, looking at the group of around dozen riders that were following Ser Rolan. Before either Nealia or Rolan could say anything more, the young boy spoke up. “So, you are the bastard sister of Jamison?” He asked bluntly, making Nealia raise an eyebrow.
“Quiet, Lyreon!” Ser Rolan commanded the boy, before turning his eyes to Nealia again. “Nealia… King Lucifer mentioned that he had hired you, or well, at least the sellsword company that you are part of.” The knight had a puzzled expression on his face as he spoke.
“You’ve met Lucifer recently, huh? Well, he didn’t lie – I work for the Rose Company, and the Rose Company is currently working for the Drylands.” Nealia responded calmly, and Rolan nodded to her.
“I see.” The knight replied with a small sigh. “We were sent on a diplomatic mission to Hellgate Hall by your father, and Prince Jamison led the mission.” These words made Nealia’s eyes widen in surprise and shock. “Jamison.” She said quietly, more to herself than to anyone else. “Where is he now?” She asked enthusiastically, trying to see if the Sword of the Night was somewhere in the middle of the soldiers, just waiting to reveal himself and surprise Nealia. However, Rolan’s face told that Jamison wasn’t here with them.
“Our convoy was split after we met King Lucifer – I led half of the group here, and Jamison led the other half towards Godsgrace.” Ser Rolan explained, and Nealia nodded with a hint of disappointment in her face. “Is there anything you’d like me to tell him when I meet him again?” Rolan asked, and with a gulp Nealia turned her gaze down, trying to figure out what exactly would she like to say to her brother.
["Tell him that I miss him"] ["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
[Tell him to stay out of trouble]
I figured this would be the best choice for the message. Mainly because this option matches her personality more than the other one. I figure that her missing him would be implied anyways considering their relationship and both their personalities.
["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
I feel like this is what sums up the relationship with Nealia and Jamison the best as far as I have gotten it correctly so far. They obviously care for each other, but I had the opinion that the love between them was more of a tough love and that both got strength from each other more than anything else. This option also implies that she misses him, which I assume is something Jamison is even well aware of. It would tell him that she cares for him and everything, while still not being overly emotional, which I don't see as particularly fitting for her. And well, considering how hot-headed he can be, it might be good for Jamison if someone reminds him to stay out of trouble once in a while.
["Tell him to stay out of trouble"]
Like everyone has already said, I also agree that Nealia telling Jamison to stay out of trouble fits their relationship perfectly. This option also lets Jamison know that Nealia does miss him while not being overly emotional especially since it is just a message and not talking directly to Jamison himself.
Voting is closed!
"Tell him to stay out of trouble", is what Nealia will say to Ser Rolan. I think I agree with what many of you said here, this does fit better with Nealia's character. Though if there was anyone that could make her act a bit out of character it would probably be Jamison. And well, maybe Vorian too.
And speaking of Jamison... Nope, we are not getting a Jamison PoV yet, however, he will make his return in the next part, which will be Emerson PoV. It is the first time in the story that we see Jamison through someone else's eyes, and it should be pretty interesting. As for Emerson's storyline, here's a short recap: As we were introduced to Emerson Allyrion, we found out that he is the only surviving son of a former Lord of Godsgrace, Mason Allyrion. However, throughout his childhood he has been raised as the bastard son of Mason's brother Morgan, who currently acts as the Lord of Godsgrace. We briefly met with Morgan's only living son, Emmett, who Emerson respects even though he is commonly seen as a useless half wit. We also met Morgan's daughter Esperence, and it came clear that she is planning behind Morgan's back to unite with the Martells. She also clearly showed some doubts about Emerson (the rightful heir) being fit to rule the house, which made him suspicious towards her. Later Emerson met with Morgan, who surprised him by saying that if he'd serve him well in the incoming war he'd name Emerson as his heir. On top of that though, he threatened to hang him if he'd go against him. This made Emerson wonder if he should expose Esperence's plans (or what little he knows of them) to Morgan. In the end, he decided to stay silent of his cousin's actions.
I've started writing the part, but well, it's holidays so obviously my pace hasn't been very quick. I'll go to my parents tomorrow and come back in 2017, but I should find some time for writing there too. Ideally I'd have the part ready before I'll leave tomorrow, but it's likely that I can't make it that fast.
Emerson
Emerson rode down the Iron Street, where the sound of hammering from the forges of blacksmiths filled the air. He was on his way to the Western Gate of the city of Godsgrace, also known as the Iron Gate. Emerson was soon going to be welcoming a royal guest, but his thoughts dwelled on Esperence and Morgan. He had kept his cousin’s secrets from Morgan, but he was still unsure if he could really trust her.
Next to Emerson rode his younger cousin Emmett, who had a serious and proud expression on his puffy face. He was always very proud to represent his house, especially since Morgan often prevented him from doing it, hiding him away in shame of his disabilities. However, now Morgan had specifically commanded both Emerson and Emmett to welcome the guests, and Emerson couldn’t help but think that the Lord may have intended it as an insult towards these visitors.
Soon Emerson, Emmett and the dozen city guardsmen that rode with them arrived to the gate. Emerson dismounted his horse, and Emmett followed his example. The guards positioned themselves on the street so that the two young Allyrions were protected from all directions. It was a calm and quiet afternoon in the city, so Emerson didn’t really feel like these guards were even necessary. He let out a bored sigh, wondering how long would they have to wait.
“What does the Dayne prince want from us, Emerson?” Emmett suddenly asked, and Emerson turned his head to see a confused look on his cousin’s eyes. Clearly he was worried, and Emerson could understand why. It was not every day that a prince from the other side of Dorne visited Godsgrace. In fact, there were rarely any royal visitors in Godsgrace at all, as they were an independent house.
“I’m not sure, Emmett.” Emerson answered truthfully, keeping his voice calm. All he knew was that Jamison Dayne had met with King Lucifer Dryland before traveling to Godsgrace, and that most likely meant he was here to deliver a message from the King of Brimstone. Of course, Lucifer had already sent a raven to the Allyrions, but clearly he had come to the conclusion that it wasn’t enough. As for why the Daynes were delivering the messages of the Drylands, Emerson had no idea.
Emerson had never met Prince Jamison, but he surely had heard of him. Sword of the Night they called him, saying he was the most skilled knight in Dorne, only second to his own father. However, Emerson had also heard that Jamison was an arrogant man, full of himself, cold and remorseless. I guess soon I’ll see if any of that is true.
“I… I have thought,” Emmett started with uncertain words, and Emerson turned to look at him again. “You have thought of what?” Emerson asked, as Emmett didn’t seem to find the words to continue his sentence. “A- are we in war?” He finally managed to ask, and Emerson turned his gaze to the pavement.
“No, not yet.” He answered quietly. With a sigh, Emerson turned his head up again and looked at his cousin to the eyes. “But I won’t lie to you, we most likely will be soon.” He spoke with a grim tone, and Emmett gulped noticeably.
Minutes passed, as they waited for the Prince of Starfall to arrive. Finally, after a long wait, the horn was blown on the walls, and the gates were opened. In the distance Emerson could see the small convoy approaching, purple Dayne banners waving in the soft wind. As the convoy of over a dozen knights and soldiers rode through the gatehouse, Emerson saw the handsome young man who was leading them. Long black hair, light beard, smug smile and a cold look on his purple eyes. He was dressed in casual but fine clothing, and carried a curved longsword. So, this is the Sword of the Night.
Jamison Dayne’s gaze traveled from Emmett to Emerson, and he let out a dry chuckle. “This is the welcoming party I get, huh?” The Prince asked with a mocking tone. Emerson narrowed his eyes sternly, but he knew that showing his irritation to this man would be a mistake.
“Indeed.” He answered, keeping his voice calm and official. “You are very welcome to Godsgrace, Prince Jamison. Now, I think we should make our way to the castle.” Jamison ignored Emerson’s words, studying his face with a sly smile on his face.
“Aren’t you going to introduce yourselves, boys?” He asked, clearly trying to provoke Emerson. Before he managed to reply, Emmett spoke up. “I am Emmett Allyrion, son of Lord Morgan Allyrion.” He said politely with a friendly smile on his face. Jamison raised an eyebrow, looking at Emmett with mild confusion. Emerson knew that his cousin wasn’t good at spotting mockery in other people’s words, but of course this came as a surprise to Jamison. With a chuckle the Prince turned his eyes to Emerson. “And you?” He asked with amusement in his voice.
“Emerson Allyrion, nephew of Lord Morgan.” He answered, unable to fully veil his irritation. Jamison’s mocking grin got slightly wider. “A nephew and a halfwit welcome me to Godsgrace. I can see that Lord Morgan has very little respect for me.” As the Prince spoke, Emerson could see from the corner of his eye how the smile on Emmett’s face died – he had finally realized that Jamison was mocking them. Emerson bit his tongue, to prevent himself from saying anything inappropriate. Instead, he walked to his horse and mounted it again.
“Follow me to the castle, please.” He spoke with calm and cold tone, turning around to make his way towards the Iron Street again. After looking at Emerson mounting his horse, Emmett also quickly made his way back on top of his. “As you say, ser.” Said Prince Jamison with an amused tone still on his voice, and so they started to ride up the Iron Street back to the gates of the castle.
In silence Emerson, Emmett and Jamison with his convoy rode through the gates into the courtyard. The first thing that caught Emerson’s eye was how divided the people on the yard were. It was something the Daynes would not notice, but Emerson could easily see there were two separate groups waiting for their arrival – Morgan’s men and Esperence’s men. Morgan’s men were mostly the soldiers of the castle guard, and some knights of the court. Esperence in turn had mostly sellswords and common thugs on her payroll.
As they all dismounted their horses, and the stable boys came to fetch the horses, Ser Niclas Wyne approached them. The balding knight gave Emerson and Emmett a cold glance as he walked past them, but as he got closer to Prince Jamison, a small and polite smile was formed on his face.
“Welcome to Godsgrace, Prince Jamison.” He said with his deep voice, and Jamison nodded to him with a bored expression on his face. “I am Ser Niclas Wyne, personal guard of Lord Morgan.” Ser Niclas continued. “Now, let me take you to the Lord, he has been waiting for you.”
“Take us to Lord Morgan then, Ser Niclas.” Jamison responded, making clear with his voice how unenthusiastic he was about this meeting. Niclas made a small bow, and turned around to lead the Daynes inside. Emerson was about to follow them, but then he saw one of Esperence’s thugs, a young man with curly black hair and muscular build, gesturing for Emerson to approach him. Quickly Emerson made his way to this young thug, Devin his name was, and Emmett followed after him.
“What is it?” Emerson asked hastily. “I should be going to the meeting with the Daynes.”
“Forget that.” Devin said with a cocky tone on his voice. “Esperence has invited you to her own meeting. And you as well, Emmett.” Emerson furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head. “Why in seven hells is she having this meeting now?” He asked with frustrated tone. Before Devin could answer, Emmett spoke up. “I’m going to sister’s meeting.” He said decisively, and Devin patted him on the shoulder with an approving grin on his face.
“I advise you to follow Emmett’s example, Emerson.” Devin said, giving one last menacing look at Emerson, and turning around. Emmett glanced once more at Emerson, but then quickly followed Devin. Emerson turned to look at the Daynes, seeing the last ones of their convoy step inside the keep. He was angered, because he knew what this was. Esperence is testing my loyalties.
[Go to Morgan's meeting] [Go to Esperence's meeting]
[Go to Esperence's meeting] This was a very interesting part! From what I can tell, it does seem that House Allyrion is no doubt more divided then I initially thought with Esperence's play for power or whatever she is after now being made more public with more men of hers showing up in Godsgrace. This choice is a very tough one for me because on one hand, I really do want to see the Jamison-Morgan Allyrion meeting firsthand but going to Esperence's meeting could teach us more about her true plans. It is very interesting that they are having their meeting at the same time that the Daynes are here though that is for sure and if there is something to that, I can't say I am sure at this point. However for now, I will vote for Emerson to go to Morgan's meeting for now. I really want to see this Jamison and Morgan Allyrion conversation since from what I have seen so far, Morgan is pretty unlikable with how he treats Emerson and a bit of a bully and I just want to see if he will try to pull that with Jamison which would be very interesting to say the least
Overall though, since this choice is coming up here, we probably won't get to see the meeting from Jamison's PoV so this may be the only chance to see the meeting happen in the story.
Edit: Well after debating on it, I am switching my vote even though it probably does not matter too much now
Now that I know we will see the Morgan meeting from Jamison's PoV, it seems wise to go to Esperence's meeting to hopefully learn more of her true plans. I initially thought of sticking with my vote largely because it seemed like a good idea for Emerson to stay on Morgan's good side as much as possible but if I had to guess, Morgan probably does not really care if Emerson is in the meeting or not anyway.
Actually, we will see the meeting from Jamison's PoV, so no need to worry about that
Oh okay that is awesome and definitely changes things a little bit and actually may lead me to changing my vote. I'll think on that a little more though. By the way, it was pretty cool seeing Jamison from Emerson's perspective in this part. It is going to be interesting to see how Jamison interacts with Morgan now that he believes Morgan has insulted him
I can say that it was pretty damn weird writing him as a non-PoV. Hopefully he is still recognizable though. And yeah, another interesting meeting for Jamison incoming
[Go to Esperence's meeting]
We already chosen before to "side" with her with out previous choice, more or less. Let's follow this path then.