Of Flowers and Fey
Twenty-Sixth Day of the Eighth Month 293 AC
Garth is obviously uncomfortable at Ser Richard's praise, perhaps precisely because of the uncompromising sincerity it is spoken with. He quickly rises from his seat to pick up a silver tray off one of the shelves. To your surprise it is filled with chocolate, but rather than the heavy dark blocks you are accustomed to seeing this is a smooth light brown. Mixed with milk or perhaps cream, you realize, taking a piece.
Dany will like this, you suspect.
As your still somewhat uneasy host sits down again, you begin questioning him again of matters that he should hopefully be able to answer with a light heart. "What did the devils wish from you beside emptying the treasury and perhaps starting a war with the fey?"
"I think that is quite enough for me to be getting on with," Garth snorts, the humor in the words brittle but not wholly feigned. "I was a tool, my lord, no more and no less, and so I was used to the task I would best serve." He motions at the neatly arranged ledgers that fill many of the study's shelves. From the sheer number you imagine some of them must have been written by past seneschals of Highgarden and then passed on. Little wonder that the Reach has a reputation for steady and thoughtful lordship.
You nod and continue with your questioning: "What other fey courts of are you aware of besides the Court of Stars?"
"Bearing in mind that I am no magician and that all I know has passed through at least one set of mortal lips," Garth cautiously prefaces his answer, "There are the Courts of the Greenwood which are counted somewhat... rustic I suppose you could say, uncouth for their association with the Old Gods of the North..." he trails off, gauging your reaction. One would have to be living under a rock not to know of all the Weirwoods you have grown, all the Heart Trees you have carved.
"I am not such a fool as to hold the message against the messenger, my lord," you assure him.
"There exist also Courts of the Depths under the sea, and supposedly in Braavos of all places a Court of Shadows who many in the Court of Stars see as upstarts for their 'recent blooming'. I suppose that means something like 'land-taking'?" he half-asks.
"Likely so, yes," you agree, a touch frustrated at how limited Garth's narrow interests make the information he can give, but not holding it against the man himself. By all accounts he seems a skilled and honest administrator when he is not being compelled to dark purposes, a useful skill and sadly a rare one, too.
"Then there are the Wyldfae, something like free riders beholden to no lord, though there are few knights among them, even a few lords and ladies," Garth finishes his account.
"Who are these lords and ladies, then? Can you describe their manner and appearance?" you press on.
"As I understand it, the more man-like of the fey are also the strongest, though they will take it as an insult for any man to say so in their hearing." You wince inwardly at the thought of what most fey would actually do on hearing that, but your host continues his account. "Among those who most commonly attend court here in Highgarden are the muses, those who can inspire the hearts of men to greatness, be it in song or poetry, wordplay or battle. Then there are the knights of the Rainbow Guard, each taking their name after a color, who have all pledged themselves to Highgarden as a sign of friendship between mortals and fey..."
Perfect spies, unless the Tyrells were almost unimaginably careful with the wording of those oaths, you think but do not say. "What powers have these knights shown?" you ask instead.
"Each knight has magic according to his color, though with my own eyes I have only seen the crimson knight weave fire." He hesitates. "Together they purged the seaside town of Karmouth of the foulness that had infested it from the sea. I cannot tell you precisely what went on there, only that I have never seen Garlan so grim as when he returned from that battle, and it was barely five days later that my nephew handed the whole of the Shield Islands where the town once stood to that northern sorcerer who helped recover old Lord Leyton's bones."
"Were there many such instances?" You make no effort to hide your very real worry.
"Just with the fishmen or in general?" Garth asks. When you indicate the latter, he goes on to mention a hair-rising tale of a demonic cult near the headwaters of the Mander recruiting through the use of 'healing springs' which outwardly mended the flesh but twisted the mind, the account of a group of bandits breaking into an ancient tomb in the woods near Ashford only for their leader to be possessed by the malevolent specter of some long dead king with the power to twist the very forest to his bidding, and many others beside, including an account of Tyene dealing with the Physician Devil in her knightly guise.
Barring such rare instances, however, most of the Reach's magical woes were set right with at least some aid from the Court of Stars, be it news of the peril, advice on how to deal with it, or even direct military aid. The more he speaks the clearer it becomes that Mace Tyrell did not in fact sell his realm for the services of a few odd knights, magic trinkets, or fey-blooded horses for his stables. The fey have been forestalling calamity after calamity. For all you doubt their motives were pure, the fact itself is worthy of some respect. Not that the fey do not make their own requests.
"The spirits of wood and water rarely grace the keep with their presence, though they oft make themselves known on outings, often just for the company, though when they do ask something it can be quite troublesome," Garth continues. "I've had to arrange moving whole villages near Goldengrove since they were cutting trees too close to... something or other important." He makes a vague throwing motion as though wishing to literally toss the irrelevant detail away.
Thinking back to Bloodraven's map it is easy enough to guess what those hapless loggers had risked disturbing: Rowan's Rest, the ancient dryad's tree that slumbered through the loss of sorcery only to bloom again bright as yellow gold. A passage to the Feywyld lies there watched over by the dryad queen who holds court of her own among the nymphs and satyrs.
Not that Garth seems overly concerned with the matter. His thoughts Qucikly return to more familiar matters and yours along with them. You explain that you cannot help lighten the Tyrell debt until certain political concerns have been dealt with, ones only Mace Tyrell can truly deal with.
"Of course," Garth nods. "You did ask me to keep quiet, though. Have you changed your mind?"
What do you do?
[] Meet with Mace Tyrell and the Queen of Thorns to discuss political and financial concerns
-[] Write in
[] Leave Highgarden for now, speak with Ser Erren Florent about his house's fortunes now that diabolic influences have been removed
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Garth is an administrator at heart, he is a very good administrator but rather incurious about things outside his purview, so the information about fey is spotty and any rumors he would tell you about you guys probably got wind of last month.