Pledges Made, Talents Found
Twenty-Ninth Day of the Tenth Month 293 AC
"My Lord, you are not ignorant to the world around you, nor you would happily blind yourself to the happenings east as much as your neighbors do to that of the west. Men take gold and all but wear Tywin Lannister's livery, knowing full well he would make of their bones and blood nothing more than a barricade to King's Landing. I don't even intend to harm any of them out of hand, for I have no need to." Proud though the words may be, they are also a relief to say truthfully.
The reminder of your father's misrule is nowhere more present than in the Crownlands, and makes you all the more determined to see to it that the least amount of harm is done in these lands, the least amount of blood shed. It is a sad fact of history that the people who looked directly to your House for rule often bore the brunt of the wars for the Iron Throne. You will not ask them to pay that price again. This vow you make to Talbert Chyttering, with more words though with no less conviction: "Instead I marshal my forces and reach my hand out to
help, to aid and defend my vassals, even though they can declare it naught. The Point, the Stormlands, the Reach, the North, the Vale, and aye, the Riverlands, all have felt my hand, and they have not been worse off for my involvement. The duties, the
obligations through which Robert Baratheon derives his authority, have been shirked, and all the while Lions cover themselves in false glory and revel in butchery and name it justice."
Armor creaks slightly as the lord leans against a wall, hand long since slipped from the hilt of his sword. "I do not doubt that you would fulfill the obligations of the crown, no one who has heard of the great bridges across the straights could name you indolent, but there is also much you mean to do the crown has never done, is there not? A king's army, a school of mages, new laws and sneaks with silver badges watching over all."
Well, that settled the question of whether he had read the Imperial Times, you note with some satisfaction. Even though Lord Chyttering is obviously dubious about some of what he had seen and read, at least you can go about convincing him from a foundation of truth, not whatever muck the Lannisters had decided to dredge up most recently.
It's not an easy task to convince him of the necessity of all that you have built, particularly the Legion which he views with trepidation. 'Sellswords by another name' he calls them and claims he fears what they might do to the land and its people when they are rootless and know it not, but you suspect he is keenly aware of what the existence of such a large standing force means for the oaths and allegiances that bind the Seven Kingdoms into one. The lords will be of less importance in war, their power less of a check on the king.
In response, you point out that there are threats grave and terrible lurking just out of sight, the tales of horror and madness from the sea are all too true and they are but one of many foes that might require not only the protection of the Legion, but also the watchful eye of the Inquisition. By the end he is still not happy with the matter, but he is listening to your words with far more care.
"You say you are concerned that I will take too much upon myself, my lord, but rest assured that any power I claim will be with a purpose, not this abuse of authority that my foes have wrongfully seized to the detriment of the commons and the lords whom they owe protection for leal service. You are concerned that I am angry and so I am, but yet my rage is a cold thing and I direct it toward productive ends. Mutual prosperity, peace, rule of law and diplomacy where another man might use a sword."
Or a dagger, the word is unspoken but not unheard in the silence that follows your proclamation.
"You promise much that makes a fair hearing, but much more comes with it like a storm rolling in from the sea, shattering old trees and changing even the shape of the land in which they dug their roots," comes the thoughtful and almost poetic reply. He probably would not take it well were you to point out that he might make a fair poet trading verses by the Moonpool in Braavos or the Great Square in Tyrosh. You have hope that his son would take it as a compliment.
"The storm that comes is not of my making, my lord," you reply, speaking with passion, but also speaking truth, "The war isn't the lords of Westeros against the dread sorcerer from across the sea. It's a war of our time, a war for the light of day, for the warmth on our skin and the breath in our lungs, against fiends, against the living dead and against stranger things from time untold. It is for this that I reach out to to lords such as yourself, not because I feel like I am
owed your support, but because you
deserve a king who upholds his duties and does right by you, and your subjects for it."
The nod that follows is a slow reluctant thing. This man would not have given even that much if he had not been unmoored from Jon Arryn, you realize, but the Old Falcon is dead and without him King's Landing looks even more isolated huddled behind its walls. Lord Chyttering takes a knee there alongside gleaming armor and steel yet undrawn. One more pledge, one more House that will raise the dragon banner when the hour comes.
You leave him with a stone of far-speech and a suggestion that he might wish to introduce his new change of heart to Lord Velaryon and other loyalists in the Crownlands. Much though their ranks have grown, King's Landing is still close and it helps to have support in the face of peril.
***
Your mother is faintly amused by the fact that she had spent her time at Chyttering Keep in the company of servants, having never spoken or laid eyes on the lord as you persuaded him to your side, but the more you learn of the recent doings of House Mallery the more you suspect she will have to take a hand in matters here.
Rumor in the village tavern has it that Lothar Mallery had been visited by Lannister envoys four days past, carrying what you imagine are the usual promises. By all accounts, talks had been going poorly. Lady Mallery had even named the Lannister lordling 'vulture' for the swiftness with which he descended to offer protection and alliance, but then things took an odd turn...
"Always said young Denys was an odd one," the old one-legged man referred to simply as Gaffer who held court in the middle of the tavern proclaimed. "Always out in the woods talking to the birds and the trees, liked 'em more than people, no wonder he turned out to be a witch... and witches know their own, the Old Lion's witch snatched him right up, convinced him he had to go train out west." Apart from the insistence to call anyone touched by magic 'witch' and a complete lack of interest in just what made any particular mage, the old man proves to be a fount of news about what is going on at the keep.
From what you can gather, Lord Lothar was so bewildered by his son's revelation that he handed him off to the Lannisters almost as quick as they suggested it, much to the displeasure of his wife. The Lannister party and the boy had been gone for two days and the lord had been gone on an extended hunting trip just as long, some claimed because he did not wish to face his wife's anger.
What do you do?
[] Find and speak to Lord Lothar Mallery
-[] Write in
[] Speak to Lady Mallery first, her anger at the Lannisters could probably make an ally of her
-[] Write in
[] Write in
OOC: Since there was already a vote on which House to visit next I moved on after you succeeded with Talbert. If there's anything more you guys want to do with him I can have Viserys swing back to give the poor man more starts about suddenly appearing dragons.
