A Matter of Honor
Eleventh Day of the Twelfth Month 292 AC
"Hail, Lord Baratheon. As you have asked in the hopes of ransoming your brother so we have come," you call out to the small company of knights that halts perhaps a dozen steps in front of you, Ser Richard and Tyene. You note the knights bristling at the fact that you do not name their lord master of Storm's End, yet the man himself inclines his head in understanding if not acceptance before looking up at you with more interest then hostility.
"Hail, Lord Targaryen," he follows your lead. "I am glad this meeting come to be given current circumstances between our Houses. Know that while I cannot name your friend, nor be happy for your company, it gladdens my heart that you would still follow the precepts of chivalry, that I may know my brother safe and soon free."
Though you search with all your skill for any trace of deception, you find none, and from the slight shake of her head neither does Tyene. Would a manifest refection wrought of fey sorcery love kin as the man of flesh and blood once had? Does he have fond memories, or is he merely a puppet going through the motions to perfection? All questions that you cannot ask. So instead you pose another that had been much on your mind ever since you first received the letter seeking after Stannis.
"One wonders why it was you who made the offer and not your eldest bother and overlord of both Storm's End and Dragonstone?" You cannot quite bring yourself to name the Usurper king even in such company, a fact which is again noticed. The knights look truly offended now and even lord Selwyn is near to glaring at you, though it might be from the nature of the inquiry.
"I am not privy to the king's thoughts in this, having newly come into lordship and returned from Highgarden," the changeling answers, a shadow passing over his boyish features, though whether it is directed at you or his 'brother' you do not know.
The mention of Highgarden does call to mind the stories of uncanny things in the woods and fields of the Reach and those who dealt with them. How high does their reach go?
The man before you, if man he be, holds at least some of the answers you seek, yet how could you ask in such company? Perhaps you should....
"Lonmouth," the word is spoken softly with disgust as one of the six knights steps forward. "That you would dare..."
"Criston!" Baratheon-blue eyes suddenly stormy with wrath fall upon the man bearing the heraldry of white scroll on a field of purple. "What quarrel have you that you would bring forth now...
here?"
The knight, a large man with a jagged scar running down his left cheek to his jaw turns sharply to his lord and says through clenched teeth: "This cowardly son of a bitch let my brother, pledged as his squire, die screaming so he could flee east to lick..." He cuts himself off abruptly, just short of offering insult to you.
Ser Richard looks at the other man with a measure of recognition, but no other expression upon his face. Whatever his own honor may demand you know that here, upon this field, he is your sworn sword before all else.
What do you say?
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OOC: I rolled initiative to see if Viserys could interfere before a duel was demanded and he passed, though of course you can stay silent. 
