A Gathering at Eventide
Tenth Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
After finishing the pleasant and now far less worrisome meal already set out by the fey or fey-touched hands, you take your leave of the Golden Hearth and those who are to guard it and take flight over the waters to the east. The storm had thankfully quieted in the interim, letting the light of the setting sun slip though sparse gaps in the clouds that still hang dark and low.
The Sapphire island you remember Tarth being named in the old maps by which the Grandmaester taught you as a boy, a name some bard or another gave to flatter the local lords you are certain for you can hardly imagine the churning waters of Shipbreaker Bay being forced though so narrow a gap to ever possess so serene a color. The jagged grey and green mass of the island itself does, however, offer some shelter against the cold and cutting winds sweeping in from the north east, and you must admit the singers do not wholly lie. You spy a dozen and more waterfalls like threads of molten silver weaving their way between the roots of soldier pines and over gleaming shards of limestone to tumble at last into the sea.
Evenfall Hall itself rises from a steep promontory, a strong and proud keep, the sun and moon manner of house Tarth and the stag of House Baratheon flying from its towers side by side. Though the keep pales before the majesty of Storm's End, perhaps, it is still mighty by the measure of places wrought by merely mortal hands.
A keep more concerned with keeping away raiders and pirates than the ebb and flow of trade, and little wonder. You recall the Conciliator's eldest son falling to Myrish pirates in these waters. And here you are of royal blood and a pirate prince both about to enter these halls to treat with something that is not quite a man wrought in the image of a traitor lord.
Unseen you land against a blind bend in the path going to to the keep, hidden from above and below, and there you ferry your friends by sorcery.
"So do we try to get an unguarded glimpse of this false lord, or simply march up and meet him?" Tyene asks. From the almost militant light in her eyes it is clear she would prefer the latter. The Dornishwoman prefers to have a peek behind the masks that others wear, while keeping her own in place.
"Even if we were to take a more direct approach it would not be so simple as marching anywhere," you reply. "We were bid to send another letter upon arriving in Tarth to set the precise terms of the meeting."
"I don't trust the bastards to keep their word if we go up to the keep," Ser Richard growls.
"You think men with common steel can hold us?" Garin asks archly.
"No, but I think if we have to fight our way free there will be tales of how we used three-headed cow demons that shat brimstone to do it," the knight replies.
Though you cannot help but laugh at the toneless delivery of the absurd notion, you must also acknowledge its seriousness. Such a thing was sadly not that far off some of the wilder rumors that spoke of you. A meeting in a secluded place would be more convenient in many ways, but to propose such a thing would seem as though you were plotting treachery.
What do you do next?
[] Send letter by false raven requesting a meeting
-[] Write in conditions
[] Try to observe this other Renly by stealth
-[] Write in plan
[] Write in
OOC: A bit more history and local color.