Scion of the Dragon
Maylas pushes through the throng and poke his head into the council room, watching with interest as the King converses with the a man Maylas had seen a handful of times. The one it was rumored was a defector from the Night's Watch.
edited 30th Jun '12 4:48:36 PM by LMage
"You are never taller then when standing up for yourself"
Elrys raises an eyebrow, "No I hadn't noticed... Do you think something is wrong?"
"I was not aware you hadn't eaten, yet, but I'm sure I can have our cooks whip something up."
Bran waits for all the councilors to leave before following the Rose Singer, and listening as well."
In the council room, Tristifer considers his options briefly before saying, "Thank you for the information. I may need your help with something later, but don't count on it." He looks at the door again, and nods slightly. Bran slips out of sight.
To whatever end
"Not really...he just seems to be in his bunk a lot. I thought maybe you would know, since you see him more."
Elrys shrugs, "Perhaps he's just been needing extra rest. I mean, he has been practicing pretty hard."
To whatever end
"Probably." Brysanna shook her head to clear the cobwebs. "I'm just overworried, and with naught to do I've got nothing much to think about."
There was an awkward pause. "So...Elrys. What do you think of these rumors?" Brysanna curled her lip in a slight snarl. "I'm inclined to believe them. Those black-clad blackhearts would take any underhanded opportunity to make us suffer."
"Oh, I'm sure they're true. I saw Joramun confirm it with Darkly himself."
To whatever end
Darkly. Brysanna had never seen him close up, but all the same he didn't seem like her type. Sneaks in general didn't appeal to her—the cowards never fought up front. Indeed, Darkly appeared to be as well built as a green twig. He was no true wildling.
"Well, he is a master of espionage," she said aloud. "Though I wonder how many spies he has within our ranks."
"I'm sure he has more than we could ever imagine," Elrys pauses, and looks around, before continuing, much softer, "I hear he's actually a sorcerer, and does Black Magic to find out some of his secrets."
Rodrik followed the Prince into one of Winterfell's innumerable draughty stone halls, littered with fireplaces and stray dogs. A servant had been sent off to fetch food. In truth he had eaten a small breakfast in camp, but any excuse to speak alone with the heir to the North was worth a bit of indigestion.
He looked the prince up and down, trying to get the measure of the man. He may have met him before, or not - he had always mixed these princes up. It was unlike him not to have formed an opinion of such powerful men, but when he looked at either of them all he saw was the blood of Tristifer gods-damned Stark.
"No doubt your father is a busy man of late. How goes the war?"
edited 30th Jun '12 6:59:34 PM by johnnye
The Maid
"Men lie down, we can't be spotted... Rangers look for a way down or else look for how long it will take us to go around this drop. Do our bows have enough reach to hit them from this rise?" asks Robin.
If I'm sure of something it's that I'm not sure of anything.
To whatever end
A cold shiver went down Brysanna's spine. Coward. Only a fool, and a weak fool at that, would tamper with the arcane secrets of magic.
"Then his name is well earned," she replied, trying to think of the sun and its warmth on her back.
The Crown Prince grimaces, running his hand through his beautiful black hair with his pale arm. He was rather tall, about a head above Rodrik. He rolled his beautiful blue eyes as he tells Rodrik, "The war has been going for ten years, how do you think it's going?" After saying that he sighs, placing his hand on his ornate sword, which his father had given to him years ago. He is about 32, and the eldest of three siblings. Rodrik hadn't actually met him before, as he was out on an extended hunting trip the last time Rodrik was in Winterfell. He has a scar on his left arm from where the direwolf he had encountered on that trip had slashed him. He had gutted the beast with his sword, and he still wears it's fur as a cloak to this day.
Robin's men do as they're told, and one tells him, helpfully, "Our arrows could reach the camp, but only the very edge of it.
"Indeed it is, sis."
edited 30th Jun '12 6:52:02 PM by deathpigeon
"I think wars wax and wane like the moon. I think a raven in the night can bring news that changes everything. A single scout slipping past a single outrider can mean hundreds of men dead in an ambush. A single dead officer can create a power vacuum that cripples an army with infighting. I think, my prince, that a war of ten years can be ended in a week if the gods are smiling."
The servant arrived, laying a plate of bacon, bread and mushrooms in front of each man, with a flagon of small beer. Rodrik picked idly at the meal.
"I was sent here to give your father aid with his war, and I mean to. I had only hoped his son and heir might have something to say on the matter."
The Prince glares at Rodrik, "What I know is that once wars go along too long they become wars of attrition. In a war of attrition, like this one, all that matters is how many people each side has and how well each side can keep them alive. At this point, the only thing that could end this war decisively would be for two of the sides to strike an alliance against the third."
"Certainly a fine option. My point was only that the first thing such wars grind down is men's spirits — believe it unwinnable and it will be so. I've never seen a situation that had only one solution."
"But it sounds like a plan is afoot." He pushed away his barely-touched food, his eyes gleaming. "And as far as I know, there are only two sides in this war. Do tell me what it is I don't know..."
"I said it was the only way for a decisive victory, not that it's the only way for victory," Edderion sighs, "Please try and keep up, and you forget about the Wildlings."
Rodrik seethed at the condescension, but kept it out of his voice.
"Unless I am woefully misinformed, my prince, this King-beyond-the-Wall has the same goal as we do, at least for now. These savages know no more concept of alliances than they do of fealty or oathkeeping, what use is making a bond of words that they will break when the wind changes?"
"You are woefully mistaken. Our goal is to take down the Night King and restore the Night's Watch. The Wildlings' goal is to topple the Night King and the King of Winter, and come down south to rape, pillage, and burn. These so called savages have been deftly playing us against the Night King, and extending this war as long as possible, while simultaneously raiding both sides, and reducing our power." Edderion sighs, "If only we could convince the Wildlings that the Night King is worse for them than us, we could convince them to help us."
"This... woman. The reports are... I consider myself a well-informed man, whatever you may think. And on this Night's Queen, I have never heard the same story twice. But I have heard tell that she is one of the demons against which the Wall was first erected. And the wildlings fear those things like nothing else."
"You and I, and our fathers and grandfathers, have grown up with the Wall to shield us, but if you listen to the tales of the savages they still stalk the earth to the north of it. Now you may believe this or you may not, but the wildlings are a credulous and superstitious people, and whatever the truth of the matter we can use that woman to scare them straight."
"You underestimate the Wildlings. They are not beasts cowering from the Others in hovels, they are a proud race who value freedom above all else. To them, we cower here behind the wall, a cowardly and superstitious lot. Plus, they obviously wouldn't believe us if we told them about the Night Queen, at least not without evidence," he sighs, "They will continue to fight us unless we can convince them that we aren't as bad."
"I'm aware that the wildlings are fond of their lawlessness. And the Dornish like the desert, and the Ironborn like drowning. Men are proud wherever they are."
"Surely they know more of these demons than we do? If we can get someone who's seen the Queen to talk to Joramun, maybe that will sway him. My only fear is that anyone I've sent to meet her seems to fall under some black spell, if they ever return at all they remember nothing but her beauty. She's either a sorceress, or an almighty whore..."
"Of course they do, but why should they care that some southron man is bedding an Other? It's not like they have any fondness for us, or that it will unleash the others upon them. If anything, it may unleash the Others upon us, which they would just love to see," he pauses a moment before saying, "and do I have to explain every thing to you? This is just common sense! Only a total dullard would miss these details. I mean, isn't it just obvious?"
"Thank you, your grace." He gave another stiff bow and, ignoring the new arrival, made for the door.
edited 30th Jun '12 8:14:42 PM by Chrisham2
It was a difficult delivery, now it's growing up mean and strong.
Rodrik regarded the prince coolly. "Indeed, your highness. A prince must find himself surrounded by men less intelligent than himself at every turn, I imagine it's very tiring indeed."
This boy, he raged inside, as if the man were not near a decade his senior. He may have his grudges with Tristifer, but at least the man could rule and hold a civil council. And when Tristifer died, he would have to kneel to this little shit? Jorah was twice the king he could ever be. Well, perhaps that could be arranged... but he would make no decisions until he knew the lie of the land.
"You must excuse me, my prince. My appetite is fully satisfied, thank you." The nigh-untouched plate was already away from him, but he gave it a push to draw attention. He didn't want the barb to go entirely over this lackwit's head. "I must go see if your father's business is concluded, it does not do to detain a king." He bowed exaggeratedly.
edited 30th Jun '12 8:32:52 PM by johnnye
"I have come a long way, my prince, and I have not yet eaten. While we await his Grace, perhaps you could join me for breakfast."