Northern Trails
Nineteenth Day of the Eighth Month 294 AC
'The warriors' duels', as they had come to be known through mirror and broadsheet, ended with a hard fought duel between the Duke of Last Hearth and Liomond Lashare. 'Thus was the might and valor of the North matched with the sword art of the New Man', proclaimed one enthusiastic contributor for the Imperial Times, though he would have perhaps been disappointed to hear that the victorious Lashare was physically one of the least new men to have attended, and that he had cut his teeth not in the wars of the Imperium, but in the internecine wars of the Disputed Lands which had become a byword for disunity and senseless bloodshed in recent years.
The world does not come with convenient metaphors unless you make them. Fortunately, you are quite good at that. It did not take much prompting to get Liomond to invite his last opponent to the Golden Hearth and it takes even less to convince the Greatjon to visit a tavern. By the end of the night they are fast friends and the perception of the duel had changed from some sort of 'defeat of the barbarian' to a message of unity and fair fighting, one of the very reasons why the walls of the Circle of Battle had been raised.
Of course, it does not hurt that Liomond is the sort of man the Inquisition can count on for a report, not that you need one for the Greatjon, but it is always best to keep an eye or two open on the farther corners of the realm just to be sure.
Speaking of Northern lords, you are pleasantly surprised to hear that Lord Stark is making overtures to Eithur Fulka, even though Lady Stark has rather cooled to the notion since she discovered that young Domeric Bolton is to be engaged to one of the daughters of House Mormont. According to Dany, who had heard it from Jon, no one had taken the news quite as badly as his cousin Sansa who was far more open to the abstract idea of being a duchess than her father was to sending his daughter to the Dreadfort.
"It is really quite amusing..." Bloodraven's smile that evening as he meets with you, Dany, and Lya over a private dinner is restrained, though you imagine it would still send quite the chill down the spine of any lord who should happen to glance upon it. "The fact that Stark's wife is now upset over the loss of a betrothal that could never be is making him more open to talks with Bolton."
"I did not think Lord and Lady had
that kind of relationship." You can feel the shadow of a headache coming on. Marital troubles among the high nobility, by their very nature, are the only sort you have no real hope of mediating.
"Oh, they don't," he assures you. "But that does not mean Eddard Stark cannot recognize an emotional reaction in his wife when he hears one and he is, I think, beginning to wonder if his own cold shoulder to the Eithur Fulka might not be begotten of thwarted pride."
"Their stated goals to match up with what the Starks have been trying to do for centuries, revitalize the North," Dany notes. "I think that as long as things are kept to the council table and not the wedding bed Lady Stark was hoping for, they should go smoothly." She shakes her head. "Honestly, some people would betroth unborn children if they had the chance..." as her words trail off, she looks at Bloodraven. "Please do not tell me someone actually did that?"
"It was considered as unwise as it was uncommon, but yes, I have heard of such happening," he replies in a cool distant voice that is just a little too serious not to wrap back around to being a jest. "For one thing, there is no guarantee the child will survive birth, nevermind infancy."
Alas, you do actually have serious business to attend to. You clear your throat. "At the very least, that means White Harbor will be more involved in plans to develop the Northern Duchies. After all, where goes Stark so does Manderly."
Cups clink softly in recognition of another day well spent in the midst of celebrations, then you give your full attention to the meal.
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OOC: It's way too late to roll combat, but I could at least handle a bit more politics.