The Knight of Skulls and Kisses
Second Day of the Tenth Month 289 AC
Ser Richard Lonmouth was not usually a drinking man but as he lingered in the taproom of the One-Eyed Rat that evening he had a powerful urge to get blind drunk on Merin's wine (the best of which was terrible and the worst of which would have been better served if it were poured back into the horse it came out of).
Life used to be so simple, not easy of course after he had been made a penniless exile, but simple. The world made sense, however shitty it was. The Dragons lost the war so he lost with them and now Baratheon's lackeys held his ancestral lands. He did what he needed to get by hired on as a caravan guard, a few short stints as a mercenary, hell he'd even been some oily Pentoshi magister's guard until the fellow's wife decided to get too friendly.
But even since he had found a boy king in the most unlikely of circumstances he had fallen not just out of the world of nobility but out of the world of common day or so it seemed to him. He's faught a demon for the Warrior's sake, a real live straight from the Seven Hells demon. Richard Lonmouth sword to a sorcerer king, it was like something he might have played at as a boy. But it was real more real than anything else the stormlander knight. It was as if the skein of the world had been pulled back and and he had peeked at a terrible reality.
And the most frightening thing about it was not even the demon it was the boy, Viserys. He remembered seeing him as an infant at court, no different than any other child special only in that he lived where most of the Aerys' other children died. But now he was
more. What had Baratheon awoken when he had driven the Dragons from their Iron Throne? The sound whispered spells was burned into his memories. So much power... more wealth and power did he gather among rogues than Richard had ever done by his sword and wits.
A young Richard Lonmouth has idolized Rhaegar and even now he keenly felt the man's loss but the younger Targaryan was an altogether different sort: by turns an uncertain boy of three and ten and an intense and frightfully clever presence that dominated any room he was in.
Still the boy could still die easily enough to edged steel. Had the knight been a more pious sort then perhaps he would have already slain his sorcerer lord. Richard however was not that man. Ever since as a child of nine a he had been told by a Septon that his baby sister had died because "the Mother wanted to hold her" he had given few thoughts at all, none of them god to the Seven or any other gods.
Even now that he had seen magic and demons of fire he could not shake off a lifetime's apathy.
So what if there's Demons? The knight thought as he drank his fifth cup of the night.
Maybe Hugor of the Hill was just some fat old man long ago who promised that the Seven would make the Demons go away the same way Septons do for famine or war or sickness now. Richard finally had a lord and he seemed to be on the way up and when lords went up so did their sworn swords, particularly when the sworn swords knew as much as Richard did. If he was wrong which he admitted might be the case more than he would have done a week ago then the Stormlander knight had a thought for that as well:
"The Maiden is always filled with compassion and willing to hear the pleas of the repentant" So said the Seven-Pointed-Star. Just to be sure he would repent, when he was on his death-bed old, honored and rich.
Now I just have to get there, the knight thought as he toasted empty air and chucked to himself.
OOC: You guys wanted a Ser Richard POV, well here it is. As you can see he is loyal but not unconditionally so. The previous vote is still open. 
