Honor's Due
Twenty-Fifth Day of the First Month 293 AC
Following Lord Royce's directions, your small company finds its way into a sunny clearing amidst the rich hills which lie at the foot of the Mountains of the Moon. Here copses of walnut, alder, and vine-shrouded oak mingle uneasily with the odd spruce and pine clinging to the more precarious slopes. A small stream tumbles through the rough center of the clearing before rushing on through the woods to the sea beyond. Though certainly lacking in the boar your were supposed to hunt you spot a handful of hares rushing out of the path of steel-shod hooves as fast as their legs can take them.
"An old place this, though for once not one recalled for the blood shed upon it," Bronze Yohn announces as he commands his mount to halt with the practiced ease of a lifetime's skill. "The only bones that rest here do so in peace and contentment."
Tis clear enough that all three Royce brothers know the tale already, but the old lord recounts it anyway for you, Ser Richard, and Tyene newly come by sorcerous paths, to the velied amazement of Robar and Andar, though markedly not Yohn Royce himself.
"Almost a hundred years ago my great-grandfather wished to see a keep built here as a dower for his sister, but the story goes that she was so taken with this place and so often did she come to see it that by the time the first foundation stones were to be laid she could not bear to see the trees hewn and the stream channeled, and so her brother let it be. Though the lady was wed and died far from here, she comanded that she be buried here... beneath that white stone there." The bronze-armored lord points towards a man-high pillar of white almost surrounded by tall grasses and a profusion of wild flowers.
"It seems a most fitting place for what we have come here to do," you agree, silently impressed at the care and forethought that went into choosing this place. Though Waymar would not have his knightly vigil amidst the tombs of his ancestors, nor say his vows where they might hear him, at least one of the Royces of old would be able to hear his pledge.
You shed your borrowed seeming just as all your companions do theirs and walk with Waymar to stand close to the grave. Before turning to the others to speak you say to him: "I shan't ask you to take a knee while I recount your deeds, for even the briefest summation would leave you with a stiff knee."
As you had half-expected that gets Waymar blushing slightly though he certainly does not look any less pleased for it.
When next you speak your voice rings clear and true through the clearing, the majesty of long dead dragons in your voice, though no wyrm of crimson scales has ever spoken words such as these: "Let it be known to all kith, kin, and gods eternal and ever-present that Waymar Royce has shown valor in the face of foes that would drive lesser men to their knees. He has without flinching drawn his sword against foes out of darkest nightmare. At three-and-ten he slew a demon-kin warrior with its own blade when merely mortal steel proved to weak to harm the foul creature, and his deeds have only grown more worthy of honor and acclaim since that day: the defense of Crackclaw Point against the horrors of the Deep, the battle against the foul serpent demon who would have plunged the east into darkness beyond mortal kin, the slaying in a single blow of the dark spirit nameless among his kin for his heinous crimes. By all these deeds and many more besides he has shown himself to be bold, yet in counsel given there was also wisdom beyond his years and also temperance, kindness, and humility besides."
As you speak surprise grows on the faces of Waymar's father and brothers, trying to make sense of all the fantastical deeds you are recounting, possibly trying to reconcile the boy who left Runestone almost three years ago with one who could perform them all.
You turn again to Waymar, unsheathing Dark Sister as you do so, the blade gleaming bright in the midday sun. "For these reasons I count you worthy of bearing the title knight, its privileges, and its duties." You pause for a moment while Waymar falls to one knee, eyes bright with anticipation of a dream he has held since childhood. "Answer me then, Waymar of House Royce. Do you swear before the eyes of gods and men to defend those who cannot defend themselves, to protect all in need of protecting, to obey your liege lord, and your king, to fight bravely when needed and do such other tasks as are laid upon you, however hard or humble or perilous they may be?"
"I so swear, Your Grace," Waymar answers, his voice thick with emotion.
Lightly tapping your blade against the pauldrons of his armor with an almost musical sound, you declare, "Then arise
Ser Waymar, knight of the Realm."
No sooner had he done so a wide smile brightening his features do you hand him a small bronze ring inscribed with the worlds: Ever-Vigilant. "Given your willingness to throw yourself into battle on a moment's notice, it is only fitting that such a time will never find you unprepared."
"You did not have to..." your friend begins.
"Of course we did not have to, we
wanted to," you interrupt. "What better times for friends to offer gifts than on such a momentous day?"
"Vigil!" Waymar gives the command etched into the ring and in an instant he was garbed not in his old Tyroshi-crafted plate with its fanciful Essosi markings, but in a suit of finest plate after the manner of the Seven Kingdoms, though wrought of bronze rather than steel with cunningly wrought scale at the joints such as the finest smith in King's Landing might struggle to work.
Besides him a tall shield of bright bronze also floats gently mid-air, obedient to his will, though that is the least of the blessings bound into the patterns etched upon it. A ward meant to shed the mightiest blows like the batter of soft rain on steel and once in every day when the peril is greatest to shine like a newborn sun with blessed light.
"Well now, son, make an old man jealous why don't you?" Bronze Yohn says with a gruff laugh as he looks upon the resplendent armor the newly-made knight of House Royce bore. From the look in Andar and Robar's eyes you rather suspect they might have said the same thing, though less in jest.
Still the congratulations they offer their younger brother are honest for all that. "What the devil were all those things you killed?" Robar adds.
"Not actual devils, though we have fought those," Waymar replies lightly.
"I could conjure seemings of them," Tyene offers, her deceptively soft almost shy tone making it clear to you at least that she has been looking froward to this.
The spectacle that follows sees a host of familiar foes parade before the eyes of the Royces: specters, fiends, and monsters all, a company of horrors such as could blight these lands of ages to come were they all gathered in one place in truth.
While Robar asks question after question of Wymar, Tyene, and even Ser Richard, Andar the elder seems caught between pride at Waymar's accomplishments and wariness at how dark and full of terrors the world has shown itself to be. The questions he asks are with an eye not so much to slaying monsters but protecting his lands from them.
As to lord Royce himself he keeps his own counsel until he finally asks a directly: "Would my daughter be safer in your lands than at Runestone?"
What do you reply?
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OOC: This is the decision for Ysilla learning magic so feel free to answer more than the immediate question.