A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

Twentieth Day of the Eleventh Month 293 AC

"You are my envoys in the North, no less in Winterfell than in Barrowtown," you reply after weighing the matter in mind for a few moments. Ultimately you suspect Xor and the others would have a less tangled path ahead of them in Winterfell. From what you have seen of Lord Stark he will do all he can to protect his bannermen and people. Danar is a man of the North himself with a silver tongue besides that will serve him well in avoiding any uncomfortable questions.

However, as you part ways with Xor you cannot help but wonder just how Eddard Stark would take the Hound's presence, one thing to hear about his defection from travelers' tales and quite another to have him show up on one's doorstep in the service of Tywin Lannister's bitterest foe. A question for another time, perhaps one to ask Jon in the Dreamlands, you conclude, returning to your work.

"...in hope of a better future for Westeros through all the wonders of this ever-changing world, Viserys Targaryen," you conclude, sealing the letter before heading out to deliver it.

The Hall of Whispers is part of the New Keep, built from the ground up from fey sorcery and fused stone, to its current purpose of housing the the castle's far speaking braziers. In many ways its day to day function belies the secretive name. A rotating cadre of aspiring Inquisition investigators cover Sorcerer's Deep's link to the rest of the world ensconced in comfortable high baked chairs while golden calligraphy wyrms often take dictation when a message has to be passed on in writing.

For those connections where greater secrecy is required, like conversations with loyalists in Westeros, the constructs take over entirely, they do not tire, nor grow bored, and they keep these secrets with the same diligence they once did the confidences of long dead dragon lords. The only conversations better guarded than those are the ones that involve mind-warded companions on either end, by necessity more sporadic and thus they do not take place in the Hall.

"Letter of general import regarding the Changing of the Sky," you call out holding the two copies of your letters you have made aloft. Two of the golden dragon constructs dart in to take the messages to both sections of the Hall. You follow the one leading to the more public communications chamber. If you had timed this right it could be just about the moment where one particular knight calls in with his daily report, not a lord certainly, but one who by his own efforts commands more men than many of the Riverlords in their stone keeps and who has been preparing the way for your conquest since before you had even met him.

"Ser Bejcot reports in half an hour, Your Grace," the Sand Whisperer on shift explains. "I could call him of course..."

"No, I'll wait," you shake your head. You take the time instead to speak to the Whisperer about how he had come to take the job. In your experience most people who join the Inquisition do so because they fancy fighting demons or other exciting pastimes, requiring quite a bit of instruction to curb the enthusiasm.

However, it seems Asaek, whose name hints at Mantarys or some other place along the eastern fringe where the influence of Valyria mingles with that of Ghis, has always been more interested in puzzling out answers to difficult conundrums than risking life and limb 'like a mirror play hero'. A stint as a Whisperer it seems is growing into something of a tradition for any would-be analysts of the Inquisition, the better to have a broad basis of the various ties that bind the Empire together as well as those stretching out into other realms and worlds.

"Bejcot's lads is it?" Ser Richard interjects as he enters quickly, followed by Rina. You note with no small amount of satisfaction that her greeting is less diffident and more matter of fact like the knight's. It seems the business at Hork's Hill has been as helpful to her personally as you had hoped, as well as dealing with the nest of Wintersworn that dwelt there.

"From the reports we have been getting the cashes of supplies are in place and there have not been any other clashes with Riverlords," you explain. "Between the raven scouts and Old Gods blessed leshy the skirmishing has turned out in their favor near every time. The talk of daring raids by Byron Sykes though..."

The knight snorts. "He's a Pointsman's Pointsman from what I heard. What he calls daring most men call a death wish, and if he's being successful at it odds are he pissed off someone right proper. Best reel him back some."

It is Ser Bejcot himself, dutiful as ever, who sends his report over the Brazier, and after a moment of surprise that you would be visiting explains that their camp can be found in a copse of woods along the Darry River where they were preparing a raid against the Vances of Atranta in retaliation for the hanging of some of their silent supporters by Vance men. From the old knight's grim tone it is clear many of those who kept faith with the Lads had died, but he does not dwell on the loss and gives instead the rest of his report.

What strikes you as the most is the respectable and ever growing number of mages, with one of the scholarum graduates you had sent to campaign with them even achieving new mastery of the sort one rarely finds in the classroom. Sadly, not all the news is this good as one of the Lotus Leshy had recently perished by fire while claiming a Tully tax chest that was carrying gold owed to the crown.


Campfires burn low under the shadow of old elm trees and thick oaks as the burbling waters of the Darry all but cover the hushed voices of men and women used enough to stealth that even having you and your companions manifest in their midst is not enough to elicit raised voices, still in every gaze you can read curiosity and excitement, the same unspoken question: 'Is it time for battle? Time to come out of the woods and raise the banners high?'

In return you offer praise for patience as much as stealth, implicit assurance that the time is close, but not yet at hand. In half a year these folks will hopefully be back to their fields and trades, or if they are minded to bear arms under your banners doing so with all the respect owed a legionnaire, but for now they must wait while more of the Riverlands is secured with words not blades.

What new allies and supplies do you bring to the Lads?

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OOC: A bit of a world-building heavy part to unwind after momentous events.