Trading Horses
Twenty Second Day of the First Month 294 AC
Foresight reveals that the lord would not be free of fey eyes while out hunting, so you attempt a different path. Though you have never met the lord of Horse Hill, that does not mean you cannot find him in the depths of the scrying glass. You feel a brief contest of magic as strange coruscating colors flow over the silver, some fey spell to guard him no doubt, then the image of the man appears before you. In many ways he seems unremarkable, a man of middling years, his beard and hair still black as coal, though the latter seems to be withdrawing somewhat from above his thick eyebrows. His armor, wrought of crimson leather and delicate branch-like filigree in gold, is definitely of fey make and the heavy bronze sword at his side has the look of something won from a barrow, a
bane to Those from Beyond the Spheres,
rooting in place all it strikes so that they may not escape its edge.
"Good day, Lord Leygood, I represent Viserys Targaryen. Would you be willing to meet with me discretely, without alerting your Fey guests to my presence?" you
whisper the words upon ethereal paths, from your lips to distant ears.
The man in the mirror starts, looks around as though for some veiled presence, before his eyes widen in understanding and you hear his own voice, rough with many years shouting orders upon the field of battle perhaps. "I shall be in my study alone in an hour, the highest window of the North Tower."
***
The Lord of Horse Hill is as good as his word. You find him behind an oak desk solid enough to serve as an improvised barricade in a pinch, though no longer wearing armor. He greets you with a gruff 'Your Grace' and is just as courteous to your companions, even the bard whose House name likely means nothing to him this far from the North. Unusually for the Reach, he offers beer in lieu of Arbor gold or any other kind of wine. It is good beer mind, bitter upon the tongue without being harsh or too heady, the mark of a brewer not aiming to get you drunk fast like poorer sorts.
"So," Lord Rickard begins. "I won't waste your time asking what you seek from me, considering the rumors going around about more and more lords swearing to you, in the Reach and elsewhere, but I'll be blunt if I may. Never really had tongue of silver, brass at the best of times."
It saves time if nothing else. You nod wordlessly for him to continue.
"I've no reason to fight you or contest your right to Aegon's throne, but there are some who owe fealty directly to the Crown who have done my House harm over the years and I would see them humbled, lords who betrayed your father at the last who bent knee directly to Baratheon and called king Aerys a tyrant. I ask nothing more than to see old injustices done to my House redressed while also paying back the treachery of House Byrch, House Follard, and House Longwaters as it deserves."
You just catch Danar snort in well-hidden amusement, the sound likely lost to other ears. For a man who professes not to know much about courtly intrigues, Rickard Leygood has certainly presented his own grudges in a flattering light.
What do you reply?
[] House Byrch and House Follard are no friends of yours. You would be willing to see to it that he gets some of his restitution from them so long as he drops all pretenses against the Longwaters.
[] You have no interest in being bound by old grudges. Explain what he has to gain by swearing himself to you, as you did to many other lords, and leave the decision to him.
[] Explain in detail just what the Court of Stars would make of the Reach so that he might judge clearly whether he wishes to bind his House's fortunes to them.
[] Write in
OOC: You actually rolled a nat 20 on initial diplomacy here, which was a good thing because the limited word count and lack of personal interaction of a Sending reduced your natural skill bonus for the roll. Not yet edited.