A Sword Without a Hilt: A Song of Ice and Fire/D&D 3.5 Crossover

[DragonParadox]

To Ride Again ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

The last time Richard Lonmouth had donned spurs and took up a lance had been at the ill fated Tourney of Harrenhal, he'd been younger than the King was now chasing glory, a new made knight still looking to Prince Rhaegar for recognition. Fuck, I was younger than Princess Daenerys is now where it counts, the knight thought raising a hand to salute the girl as he passed. Beneath the bright smile that was half glamour half willful good cheer there was a watchfulness about her that veterans of a hundred battles would envy, and not all of it was about monsters appearing from the shadows.

Lord Ashford aught to be very careful about what he does with the Cox girl, lord or no, the knight thought noticing that their host rode onto the tourney ground bearing a favor the same sky-blue color as the young sorceress' cloak.

Adjusting for the now unfamiliar weight of a shield that did not float in midair one last time Richard faced his first opponent, Ser Henry Blackbar, a younger son of a lord who had made his mark on many a tourney though never quite ranking high enough to be notable and looking for that one bright moment before the march of years would steal away his chance.

Spurring his horse, a stallion of the imperial stables of that was a mixed breed of Dornish and Stormlander, though nothing more than that Ricahrd, lowered his lance and held fast to his mount. The crash of two lances shattering echoed in his ears and for a moment he felt the familiar lurching sensation of losing his seat, but old instincts were not easily forgotten. He held his seat tightly, riding through the cloud of splinters while his opponent clung on for dear life.

On the second pass he had the other knight's measure. Too cautious, too cautious by half... Though Richard himself was struck in the shoulder he delivered a blow into the middle of his opponent's chest sending him flying over the horse's rump and into the dirt to the cheering of the crowds and the fanciful singing of the King.

He should have looked like his brother, lute in hand, playing from the stands, but his eyes were nothing like Rhaegar. When the Prince of Dragonstone had played his harp it had been with a strange intensity, as though the entire world melted away leaving nothing but him, his music and whatever had inspired him. An expression he had seen on King Viserys' face, Richard realized with a start, but not when playing any sort of instrument, when he worked magic.

Not sure what he aught to do with the insight into a man more than ten years dead Richard simply rode the honor lap and turned to face his next opponent, the young Ser Leygood, looking very determined and proud indeed. Unless I am very much mistaken that is a show meant for one pair of eyes only, the knight of Skulls and Kisses thought glancing at the young woman in green cheering with far more than polite enthusiasm. A pity to toss you from your saddle at such a time as this lad, but your form is shit, Richard thought as his lance connected so strongly it actually made the boy's horse shy away, while his own lance went wide.

The third knight he faced was as far from a callow youth as one could imagine however. Randyll Tarly stood straight and unwavering in his saddle as if he'd been poured from bronze, his armor and shield by far the finest Richard had seen on any of his opponents. Not as finely enchanted as the old dragonrider plate he was wearing, but fair enough that he should not take an easy ride for granted.

Four passes they made and four times they shattered their lances on each other's shields, neither slipping from their seat, though Richard had a snicking feeling Tarly was having an easier time of it, having spent a lot more time in the saddle than him over the last few years. Have to take a chance if I'm going to win....

At the last possible moment the stormlander knight twisted himself to the side, turning an obvious opening into a glancing shield hit, while slipping his own lance under he opponent's shield to send him slowly sliding off his mount. The Lord of Horn Hill still came within an inch of holding on even so, but it was just an inch too far.

The cheers were not as heady as they had been at Harrenhal, but Richard would have been a liar to claim he did not drink them in just the same. As he turned to face his next opponent it was all he could do not to let out a inappropriate snort of laughter. Alfryd Fossoway couldn't win for losing it seemed.

As the king started on his new-made song Richard could almost pity the fool who had earned himself the ire of a dragon all unknowing.

And in Ashford upon the meadows,
you can see a man chasing shadows.
Ser Fossoway, the wormy apple,
look at him and hear him prattle.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
The mouth runs fast, the mind less so.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Knightly in body, but the character? No.

With a bow from finest ash,
he entered the field quite brash.
His foe his niece, a young maid in bloom,
but watch her shoot and know he's doomed. ​

Almost... "I'll strangle that bloody bard of yours, Ser," the idiot hissed when they crossed paths after the first tilt. Richard with a cracked shield after all the battering it had taken and Fossoway cradling his left arm from the way it had twisted just the wrong way.

"You'll be finding that a lot harder to do than to say, something you shouldn't need me to tell you after today," he answered, struggling to keep back a smile as the song continued to proclaim the other knight's unworthiness for all to hear.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
No arrow flies straight, no target he hits.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Watch him rage and have his fits.

"It's magic! It's fey!" That's his claim,
but it's clear as day who is to blame.
No talent, no skill, just full of pride.
But shouting and baying, these faults to hide.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Demands a favor. Does not want to pay.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Would sell his niece to the fey.​

Spite it seemed made for a stronger chain to keep a man in a saddle than Richard had assumed for on a second tilt and on a third he clung on cursing and spitting, though this time he knew better than to shout about magic, that unlike in the archery competition wasn't even there. The King had not even suggested trickery... well besides a glamoured face and conjured name, but that was just good sense given what they were here to do.

But this deal won't stand.
Not on Ashford land.
Yet the neighbors look and what they swear?
"No spell seen on the lass." The verdict quite clear.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
His arrows plow dirt. His honor at stake.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
His niece splits an arrow, sealing his fate.

The lass the crowd cheers,
For the knight they have jeers.
But a moral we find in the tale of this brute.
Be kind to thy neighbors and to those who own lutes.​

It was on the fourth tilt that Richard won again, though this time not through clever trickery, more through his foe losing his head and lifting his lance at the last moment. The Stormlander knew he should be angry at the dishonorable conduct that risked getting splinters through the visor of his helm and killing him, but the idea of dying to bloody lance splinters of all things was too absurd to credit and there wasn't much point to trying to further drag his name through the mud.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Red in the face when we tell his tale.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
But we'll sing it and dance it until it grows stale.

Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
Red in the face when we tell his tale.
Ser Fossoway. Ser Fossoway.
But we'll sing it and dance it until it grows stale. ​

Richard took his next lance from his 'squire' with a nod and a smile and headed off to face the Lord of Ashford, the last confrontation one way or the other. "I almost feel guilty to get so far up in my own tourney, father would have called me greedy," the young lord admitted when the two rode past each other for the first time, lances raised.

"Enjoy the day riding in the sun while you can," Richard replied with a shake of the head. There was a bit too much of the Red Viper about this one, but he was a likely lad just the same.

The first pass almost threw Richard from his seat while his own lance did not seem to trouble his opponent in the slightest. Teach me of all people not to underestimate a young face.

On the second, the last pass Richard's lance twisted the Lord of Ashford about by the shoulder and saw him fall while Richard managed to stay solidly in the saddle.

He'd won. It wasn't like his boyhood dreams, but it was good to know he could still bear a lance and ride a horse fairly enough to impress the knights of the Reach.

"And now, good Ser, you have only to name a Queen of Love and Beauty. I'm certain there are many a maidens with hearts a flutter over so grand and so mysterious a knight," Lord Owen Ashford said slyly as Richard helped him to his feet.

Richard hoped the King had some ideas, for he hadn't been paying enough attention to the ladies in the stands to tell one from the other.

Who do you suggest Ser Richard name Queen of Love and Beauty?

[] Ellara Meadows, elder sister of the young Lord of Grassy Vale

[] Rella Mullendore, granddaughter of the Lord of Uplands

[] Megga Tyrell, distant cousin of the main branch

[] Rina Cox (disguised Companion)

[] Write in

OOC: Sorry this took so long guys, the tilts are take some time to build up and roll even with simplified stats.

 

[Tomcost]

In another reality

Not totally sure about how to proceed, Richard directed his horse to the grandstands. Here he found her, Rina was sitting quite uncomfortably near Lord Ashford. Still, the best way to prevent any unwanted diplomatic incidents was to declare Rina Queen of Love and Beauty, as they could later explain the lord who they were. He dismounted and walked up to her, bearing with the gaze of Lord Ashford, not totally comfortable with this situation.

"My noble lady, it would be an honor if you accepted my invitation to become my Queen of Love and Beauty" he said with deep bow, which became skewed at the last moment as he saw that.

"My fair knight!" The broken voice of Buttercup trying and deliberately failing to sound feminine rang like scratched metal from behind Rina. "I'm overjoyed!" he said jumping up and down, a long-haired wig he somehow had managed to put on becoming messier by the moment and a pair of cloth rags rolled into oversized balls in his chest behind his shirt bouncing unnaturally.

A mental message then clarified his doubts:"Just say what I tell you". It was the voice of his king.

"I'm sorry if he dissappointed you, dear" Buttercup said to Rina with feigned pity, "but I had an arrangement with Ser Geralt"

Richard spoke, more to the public than to Rina in particular "She refused to train with me until I had crowned her"

"What I refused was to clash sword with you, good Ser. A proper lady does not get into swordplay until after marriage" Buttercup said, and laughter ensued as Lord Ashford's face relaxed.

Then with mock anger he lashed at him "So, what are you waiting for, Ser. As your Queen of love and Beauty I deserve a ride until sunset"

"My lady," Richard started, follwing the ruse, "I fear that until Sunset is a bit too long for a ride. See, the horse is tired after the joust..."

"Nonsense!" Buttercup exclaimed. "Your horse is young and vigorous, but if it still has problems our dear friend Maester Martin surely has a collection of potions and oinments to revitalize it".

"As you say my lady"

And with that they clumsily mounted the horse, with Buttercup at the reigns, and as a ball of cloth fell from its designated spot behind the Bard's clothes, he exclaimed: "Onwards, to Maester Martin's house!"

And so Ser Geralt and Buttercup rode full speed out of the tourney grounds, never to be seen again.


AN: this should totally become canon, and if you guys don't vote for this I will be disappointed.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Flowers and Frost ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

"I must confess I did no ride to this tourney with thoughts of love or beauty in mind, though there is much of the latter all around me and of the former sure to bloom." The somewhat poetic declaration falls uneasily from Ser Richard's lips, though you have no doubt there are ladies aplenty who now imagine the mysterious knight who had won both joust and melee has eyes only for them. "I leave it then to my host, and the knight who almost unhorsed me at the end, to crown the Queen of Love and Beauty as he wills."

In those brief moments before you had suggested the plan Ser Richard had confessed in jest he was inclined to toss the crown into the stands so 'they may win it fairly.' You had a different hope for the end of this tourney than to institute a new competition among the ladies in attendance.

Ser Owen Ashford takes the crown with the sort of rueful smile that says he understood how little Ser Richard wanted the honor and had been amused at the prospect. The expression fades as he considers it a moment then turns to his left where Rina is seated far enough away to maintain propriety, yet close enough to show favor.

"My lady, it would be an honor if you would allow these flowers of Ashford to grace your beauty." That was a surprisingly thoughtful way to make the offer, allowing the possibility of refusal without too much insult.

You catch sight of Dany nodding, somber as a Braavosi tax judge.

It is clear from her expression that Rina is not inclined to refuse, beyond lingering hesitation of being the center of attention by all end sundry. "My thanks, my lord, for thy kind words and flowers both," she says a little too softly to be heard beyond the lord's box, though her words are no doubt carried further by hurried whispers.

The crown itself is crimson poppies plucked from Ashford Meadow itself, a stark contrast against Rina's dark hair, though as it is set upon her brow she tenses. She is worried the chill of her magic might wilt them, you realize in a flash. Yet when you ask upon a spell-wrought wind if she wants you to cast a spell to keep them safe your friend shakes her head.

Ice crystals race upwards and outwards among the blooms and over them, not blackening or wilting but capturing the red to leave it all the brighter, preserved as the moment is in memory.

To his credit Lord Ashford takes the obvious act of magic in stride, intrigued rather than wary. According to Dany he thinks Rina is some manner of fey lady, a suspicion not that far from the truth come to think of it. He had also somehow concluded that Rina is the leader of your small party somehow. You wonder how he would react to the truth of your presence.

How do you introduce yourself to Lord Owen Ashford and of what do you speak?

[] Write in

OOC: This includes things like any questions regarding his relationship with the fey, offers of support and matters of Reach politics you might wish to speak with him about.

 

[DragonParadox]

Wards and Warrens ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

As you had expected Lord Ashford invites you all to the keep that evening, curious about the knight who had won the joust and melee both and you suspect a bit more than curious about Rina after her show of magic. Though that is not so say everyone approves of his fascination. As the sun begins to dip in the sky you catch sight of a lady wrapped in a dark grey cloak, a worried expression on her face drawing the lord away from mirth and merriment to a hushed conversation. To your hearing her words are clear even over melody of your own lute.

Lady Adara Ashford does not approve of her son mingling with the fey as much as he does and she particularly does not appreciate the crown of flowers still on Rina's brow. You gather the reason is half piety and half politics. In her own words Owen aught not risk 'a half-dozen horned bastards', but there is a bit of interesting news there also. The fey had apparently offered to help protect Ashford from otherworldly foes, and not only by pledging knights and hosts in times of need.

"Isn't it enough that I have to live half in their world, now you have to invite them and the vagrants that trail after them to a feast in their honor like they are..."

"Nobles mother?" Lord Ashford's tone, which had been faintly weary but tolerant before, cools sharply. "Or are you about to deny they are even people? The fey are here to stay, you know, and more to the point the Court of Stars is actually being helpful as well as courteous in our hour of need, unlike other awakening powers for which men, highborn and low alike, are at best amusements, at worst food."

"Just don't marry the damn chit," the lady grumbles, but you are already paying less attention to the conversation and more to the keep itself. You already knew there are brownies serving House Ashford, but it is a long way from playing host to hearth spirits and being drawn into the realm of the faerie.

"My lord, If I might have a moment of your time in private..." Time for Buttercup the bard to take a step back. This is a dance you have played many a time before.

***​

"I must admit, Your Grace, you are... not what I was expecting," Lord Ashford confesses once you had said your part, glamours unraveled under the candlelight. "Lord Tarly painted a rather more grim picture of you and your realm, great of course, but hardly filled with good cheer."

"Would you have tried to persuade Lord Randyll Tarly with good cheer, my lord?" Dany asks with an impish smile.

The young lord laughs granting the point with a nod. "Nay, even the brightest of the Orange or the most dazzling of Violet would fail to shine light upon his dour countenance."

"Speaking of the light of fey eyes, my lord, I would hear more of their deeds and plans for the Reach, though without questions or answers known to those of the Gold as soon as they are spoken," you interject. "You know that there are enchantments that can ward one's mind from those who would peer within it and one's fate from a scrying mirror's eye?"

"Yes," Lord Ashford replies, more gravely. You do not think he suspects the fey, but he can obviously understand why you who have no pacts with them do not wish to conduct negotiations in their sight.

Rina takes out a ring as you had planned. "This was taken from an enemy, forged in a dark place and likely with a price none of us here would pay, but its enchantment is secure from all but the cursed emperor far to the east whom no fey of the Court of Stars would lightly converse with."

"Given the cost of such protections I understand the thrift," the lord nods after a moment, taking it up. It is good that you had warned him for a talisman under his tunic suddenly flares with the green ward-light of the guardian court. Once he had donned the circle of flowing shadow he continues "I can well guess what you would ask of me, Your Grace, for it is what which I have already spoke to Lord Tarly of and though I might have hesitated having only his account and travelers' tales to guide myself by, I do not do so now. Any man who would hold the unwavering fealty of such as knight as Ser Lonmouth is a worthy king to swear my banner to."

You nod solemnly and even Ser Richard seems moved at least a little despite himself, though it is clear as day that colder calculation had also gone into the decision.

"There is an air of fey power here like a song at the edge of hearing, my lord," Rina speaks into the silence that follows. "If you can tell us how this was done and what price was paid...." She trails off worried, though trying not to show it.

"As I am Lord of Ashford, acknowledged by high and low, so might by fey magic this truth be turned to wards against any who would subvert me or taint the land, ramparts of sorcery to match those of stone," he explains. "It is more difficult for dark things to make themselves at home in my land, fiends, monsters and Deep Ones from their stagnant halls."

"More difficult how?" you ask intrigued. Fey magic is not lightly imitated with mortal enchantment, but that does not mean it is impossible as Lya's ward-crafting proved.

"They stand out more, make mistakes they otherwise would not, the good sense of the smallfolk and the courage of armsmen driving them out with steel and blood. I have seen it work just as the fey promised time and again and I am well content," the young lord replies with conviction.

"And the price?" Dany questions a moment before you can do the same.

"The fey are more at home here, not just in the keep but all Ashford lands, their magic brighter and their craft more enduring. More of my people have taken on house spirits and the sprite-kin drink from bowls of milk left by the porch." Pausing a moment he adds. "I had been worried about what the Faith would say of the arrangement in the fullness of time, but the Conclave laid my fears to rest."

What do you reply?

[] Ask what other lords made this pact

[] Delicately point out that the fey might not have the best way forward in mind for their ways and customs are not those of mortal men

[] Write in

OOC: Edits done

 

[DragonParadox]

By Veiled Pacts ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

A thousand questions crowd your thoughts, from those too arcane for the Lord of Ashford to reply to, to others you cannot directly ask lest to make your animosity to the Court of Stars too obvious, so instead you settle upon a more neutral query. "How many other lords chose to make this pact, my lord?" How many other tens or hundreds of thousands of fates are being subtly woven into a tapestry pleasing to the Court of Stars and its Queen?

"I know of five Houses that have forged agreements similar to the one I did," he replies after a moment, counting them off one by one in the same practiced tone he would for any other sort of alliance: "House Ball of Highcrest, they have an alliance with some sort of miner and mason fey of the Indigo, pech they are called I think, though they have not yet unearthed any of the promised riches. Then there is my uncle, Lord Armond Costayne of Three Towers, Garth the Green lifted a mighty curse from his lands so he was happy enough to take the aid of the Court of Stars in making sure nothing of the sort happened again. He bargained for lore to train wizards under his own banners rather than a pledge to call a full hunt of fey knights should things prove dire as I did."

The young lord pauses, obviously seeing his uncle's choice to value his own growing power over the immediate protection of his lands with ill favor, but not wishing to speak ill of his kin. For your part you are hopeful that the Lord of Three Towers should prove amenable to employing Scholarum sorcerers over those trained by the Court of Stars.

"Lord Rolph Casell also agreed to having his lands warded and even bargained for a healing spring guarded by water nymphs. After what happened to Lorent one can hardly blame the man, though I do wish he would guard it less jealously. There are folk aplenty that could use healing from one ailment or another. How exactly do your Houses of Healing work, Your Grace? I tried asking Lord Tarly, but he cared more about healing in terms of keeping an army fighting fit than seeing to his subjects' good health."

Dany and Rina answer his questions by turn, both of them having spent more time in the Houses of Healing than you, taking care to also mention the Heart Trees with healing powers great and small. You watch Lord Ashford carefully but the man does not seem to have any particular objection to blood magic, simply noting that the Greendream reminds him of the Green Wardens who guard the forest paths and the ways into the Feywild from interlopers.

From there the conversation turns to the nature of the Old Gods and their relationship with both the Feywild and the realm of dreams. The irony of discussing this with a lord of the Reach and not the North aside you find that Ser Owen is quite fascinated by the account and not the least troubled to prayer and sacrifice as one would trade. So speaks a man well acquainted with the fey, though to that aspect you cannot object.

"I know Lord Tytos Fossoway, Wenyld's father, spoke to the Green Court just a few weeks past after he had some trouble with fiends I think..." he trails off somewhat embarrassed. "I'm not sure how good the account I heard is because it was Ser Alfryd that gave it to me and I have recently had to reconsider what I think of the man's character.

"He made himself to be the hero of the piece, did he?" Rina guesses with a smile, looking more at ease that you would guess she would be in the solar of a lord met only the day before.

"Yes," Lord Ashford replies with a grimace. "I also heard from the fey themselves that Rikard Leygood struck a bargain with the Court of Stars, worried about those horrors in the Crownlands, the Deep Ones."

Or meaning to use his new fey allies against the Crownlander lords themselves, you think but do not say, recalling what Lord Florent had to say on the character of the Lord of Horse Hill weeks ago.

"Are there any others who might be considering similar arrangements to your knowledge, my lord?" Dany asks after a moment, likely thinking along the same paths as you. This tourney would be an ideal place to conduct such negotiations, while demonstrating the advantages of an alliance with the Court of Stars.

"I only know of Lord Rowan, that is why he setd his nephew Lewin to Ashford, though no pact has been reached thus far," Lord Ashford replies at once. The fact that he takes your sister's manner in stride unlike so many others further endears the man to you, however troublesome his current entanglements maybe.

Should you attempt to move him out of the Court of Stars' sphere now or bide your time a while longer until you know more of how deep the attachment truly runs?

What do you do next?

[] Explain the plans of the Court of Stars to Lord Ashford and why you oppose them

[] Ask further questions
-[] Write in

[] Enjoy the rest of the night as Buttercup and approach one of the other lords next, leaving Ashford for alter
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: And here we are, politics mortal and fey.

 

[DragonParadox]

Plans and Performances ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Part of you wants nothing more than to fly back to Sorcerer's Deep at once. The implication of the Court of Stars being able to reach so many minds at once to shape the Reach to their will even in the absence of their hoped for marriage are chilling. You do not even know how many lords might have taken the offer. Lya, for her skill at magic, Vee and Softstrider for their knowledge of the fey, Glyra, Moonsong, the Orphne Lord and the Queen Rhaella for actually being fey, each with their own perspective.... you already begin to formulate a list of the council you would need to gather. No, you cut yourself off. This has been happening for months, it can wait a few more hours while you play at the feast.

Troubling as the present realization is it does not mean you can forget your purpose at the tourney. If anything it has just become more urgent to ensure as many of the lords of the Reach fall on your side and not that of the Court of Stars. Moreover, you could probably do with an opportunity to speak to Lady Adara and perhaps obtain another perspective on this fey pact.

"Thank you for indulging my curiosity, my lord," you smile as you as you don the mask of Buttercup again. "I hope I am still invited to play at the feast this evening. I must confess I have never attended as a bard before but..."

"Then how...?" Lord Ashford's interruption trails off, as though he is not quite sure how you would take confusion over your musical skills.

"He cheats with magic... a lot," Dany proclaims in a dramatic mock whisper.

And with that good cheer is restored to your company, or at least to Owen Ashford who does not understand the full import of the news of what he had just shared.

***​

Later than evening, just as you finish a raucous rendition of the Fisherman's Daughter, Rina approaches you alone, though she does not speak aloud perhaps for fear of sharp fey ears. Once more there are three lords and ladies of the Court in attendance including Ser Dregaire. "Why didn't you warn Lord Ashford about what the Court of Stars mean to do? They're using him..."

"That truth will not do us nor Lord Ashford much good this evening," you counter. "If we were to tell him he either refuses to believe that those he sees as benefactors could be seeking to usurp the fates of his fief and we would lose a great deal of goodwill or he believes us, in which case we have shown our hands to the Court of Stars with Ser Owen tangled in the middle of all this with a fey pact hanging over his head."

Rina's expression is not pleased, but she obviously sees your point. "He would be rather poor at trying to keep the knowledge off his face even with the ring to guard his mind, wouldn't he?" Her gaze drifts over the candlelit feast hall. "Perhaps his mother might shed some more light on this pact..." a sort of wry humor enters her thoughts. Assuming she will even deign to speak to Buttercup the Bard and the false lady her son crowned today.

How do you question Lady Adara Ashford?

[] Write in

OOC: The reason I need exact questions here is because it would kind of defeat the purpose of the mind blank ring for Lord Ashford if you guys just turned around and asked his un-warded mother questions about the fey as Viserys, so surreptitious questioning it is.

 

[DragonParadox]

A Surfeit of Charm ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

You had expected to struggle to charm Adara Ashford whilst playing the wandering bard with no name or kin. However you find yourself faced with the opposite problem. After a few cups of wine and a few songs the lady is very charmed indeed if coy looks and flirtatious compliments are to be believed. Thankfully Lord Ashford seems to take his mother's interest in Buttercup in good cheer, though that may have something to do with Dany still playing your young pupil doing a poor job hiding her amusement at the sight. Ser Richard, ever loyal, manages to keep an expression as solemn as he had meeting the Sealord for the first time or Syrax in the ruins of Lyceos, though you know the knight well enough to expect a jest or two in private in the days to come.

At least you get your questions answered in good time, even the ones the lady would have otherwise perhaps avoid recounting at a feast: "They have no shame at all, you know," she tsks, taking a fortifying gulp of wine. "I suppose it makes sense seeing as they live in the woods with the beasts, but that doesn't mean decent folk should encourage them doing things their way. They are pretty enough I suppose, the ones that look like people at least, but that's no reason to..." had your hearing been less keen you probably wouldn't have caught the words 'rut like beasts'.

You gather that it had fallen to some rather earthy fey to forge the pact with Lord Ashford, dryads perhaps or some kin of theirs. Whether that came down to the young lord's own proclivities or the nature of the Green Wardens you cannot say for certain. Still, given the plans for Margaery to wed the slumbering king you suspect there must be some level of ritual significance to the act of joining mortal man and fey spirit in so intimate an embrace. You also learn where in the woods near Ashford the ritual had been enacted. The Mother's Glade... Does it have something to do with the Earth Mother's worship in times long past, you wonder and make a note to ask young Denys Mallory if the One he serves has any insights into the matter.

As to Lady Ashford herself, once you had persuaded her that Buttercup is only as much of a friend to the fey as any other he might meet upon the road in good cheer and your companions pledged no loyalty to the Court of Stars, she seems much more at ease with how attentive her son is to Rina. Truth be told you doubt anything will come of it, the young lord is drawn by mystery and magic, not any deeper yearning, and Rina you suspect is enjoying the moment, fleeting as it, is for its kinship with her own youthful dreams.

"A pity your Ser Geralt has no interest in taking oaths to a lord," the lady interrupts your musings. "Whatever ballads might tell the world needs knights rooted to lands and subjects more than wanderers without a home. Are you certain..."

"I have known Ser Geralt through good times and ill, for years now. I can say with confidence that it is not yet time for him to make roots," you lie smoothly.

She sighs. "Then I suppose it is time to say goodbye to all of you. I confess I shall miss your songs also, good bard."

You glance down the table. Dany had heard that one too, of course she had. Still, if you are ever going to recruit the lady to keep an eye on rumors of fey workings now would be the time. She would certainly be open to correspondence.

Do you try to recruit Lady Ashford to keep an eye on the agents of the Court of Stars?

[] Yes, more eyes would always be useful

[] No, better not to risk so easily noticed a connection

OOC: Hopefully this strikes a good balance between the lighthearted tone of the arc and underlying concerns. The social rolls were certainly entertaining to me.

 

[DragonParadox]

Beneath Scented Boughs ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Beginning a correspondence with the lady would not be overly difficult given her current view of Buttercup, doing so in a way that would not burn your bridges with Lord Ashford proves more complicated. After subtly questioning Lady Adara to discover which of the powers and principalities of Westeros and beyond she is most sympathetic to you settle upon explaining that you 'do certain favors' for the Citadel and that they are concerned about growing fey influence. Would it be too much trouble for the lady to keep an eye and ear out for such matters and deliver letters of that nature to certain hiding places in town?

The answer is thankfully no, though paired with a curiosity about who would be collecting said messages and if you would be reading them personally. You try not to think too much about her obvious disappointment when you answer no. Lya will doubtlessly find this as entertaining as Dany does, and the less said about what would happen when Glyra learns of how you had recruited your newest agent the better.

Still, with the matter settled and the feast soon concluded you head out into the keep's walled gardens. A rarity among Westerosi keeps outside Highgarden, Ashford's garden had been a godswood once you suspect from the layout of the weather-worn stones. However, weirwoods and their pine sentinels had long since given way to peach, apple and fireplum all in flower, reaching their fragrant boughs over rose bushes, mock orange and night blooming lily. Here fey spirits and mortal lords and ladies drift among the hedges speaking softly, faint laughter echoing around the corner.

This is an echo of the world the Court of Stars wishes to build, you realize, though only one side. Not the smallfolk bound to the land to the ends of their days, to be freed only at the whim of some lord or lady rather than their own efforts, not the merchants looked at with suspicion as agents of change and foreign powers.

With Ser Richard at your side, you suspect as much to avoid the curious attentions of gossamer-garbed fey as to protect you, you set off in search of Ser Dregaire.

Though the knight did not seek you out it is clear from the way his deep brown eyes light up at the sight of Ser Richard that he too is curious about the knight who had won the melee and joust one after another, overcoming even some of his own kin with sword and lance in hand.

"Fair evening to you bold, Ser Geralt, most puissant Buttercup," he greets you with a nod of his antlered head. "What brings you into my company when so many others seek you out?"

"I have always found it wiser, Ser, to seek out my own company rather than having it chosen for me," you answer smoothly.

"A strange habit for a bard whose craft is best fulfilled by drawing many to heed word and song," the fey knight replies, though he motions to the bench opposite to his freely.

"There is difference I have found between one's audience and those one counts near enough to call 'company'." You pause, lowering your tone just enough to mark a significant conversation without making an attempt at true secrecy. Too many eyes and ears about skilled in sorcery to do that here, and to be seen casting those veils would raise more questions than what you wish to say in any case. "I have found myself well pleased with my audience here at Ashford, but now I would seek out intriguing company..."

It is only after the words had passed your lips that you realize they might be seen as flirtatious in a certain light. Hopefully they would not be... once was enough tonight.

"Oh, pray tell fair bard, what do you know of the company of fey?" the knight prompts intrigued.

"More than most. I have in my employ several fey, though they would for one reason or another make poor envoys with the spirits of Ashford forest and the Reach. Some are too secretive, others less respectable by most standards..."

"Gremlins?" Ser Dregaire interrupts and gives a knowing laugh when you nod surprised. "You had the look about you, skilled though you are in showing the face you prefer to the world, I've lived besides gremlins long enough to recognize those blessed and cursed with their company."

Well isn't that an odd tangle. Most gremlins are darkfey, of the shadow courts, or the wildfae who answer to no court or lord. Who does the fey knight pledge to that he would know them that well? "I could use more local contacts such as you, Ser."

"'Contacts', the word is a slippery as a fresh-caught trout," the knight replies carefully. "Just what are you asking and what are you offering good... singer?"

What do you reply?

[] Try to hire him outright, you have the full resources of a realm as your disposal, and a treasure trove of magic bound among the folds of your cloak
-[] Write in offer

[] Try to question him about the shape of fey politics locally, particularly with regard to the ritual land bindings
-[] Write in offer

[] Write in

OOC: Some more context of what this place actually looks like, with all the action and revelations recently I feel like we've had very little description going on.

 

[DragonParadox]

Mantles Old and New ​

Twenty Fourth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

"Oh, I know better then to ask a fey for things, good Ser, and I'd wager there is little a wandering minstrel such as I could offer you." No sense pretending it is the Citadel that is your patron here, given how close you suspect Ser Dregaire is to guessing the truth. "However, there are certain parties who would be most interested in acquiring the services of one of your stature, who could offer quite a lot more then I. Arms and armor, a steed, a place in the sun as an esteemed knight in his service... His pockets are deep and he is generous to those who are loyal."

Though you have long since mastered speaking of yourself in the third person, playing the agent and middleman, you find it is a touch more awkward when the other party more likely than not knows what you are doing.

"Know then that I have been a hunter and warrior since time out of mind... for mortal men at least," the antlered fey trails off, letting the less than subtle hint land fully before continuing. "A knight I have been made since the Great Passage, yet for all that I hold its virtues in high regard, duty to lord above and subjects below."

"There is little love lost between my employer and the Court of Stars" you reply carefully. "Weaving people into tapestries not of their own choosing," you motion to the garden, the walls and the Ashford lands beyond under the power of the 'warding' ritual. "What point is there in living, fighting and loving when all it is pre-ordained by something? Might as well kneel before a god who wields fate as in a tyrant's fist."

"Gods would write the script by which we are to play, the Circle of Bloom and Thorn merely sets up the stage," he points out, though not with rancor. So that is its proper name, you mark it well. In ritual magic, more so than in even other branches of the arcane, knowledge is power.

"A limitation that seems less onerous to you because the children of faerie are already so bound, yet in compelling mortals to follow in your steps you still bind yourselves with chains of iron. If mortals are to forget to tell more than one tale than so too would your experience be made poorer. Would you have ever thought to call yourself a knight before the Great Passage, taking on its codes and its principles yet undreamt?"

For a long moment silence reigns, the fey knight's gaze darkened in thought. You doubt you had introduced him to any truly novel thought, for such was the mind of the Orphne King and many others of his court before they swore to you, but still it proves a stark reminder of what may be lost.

"I cannot swear another oath before laying down the one that already binds me," he answers at last. "Though it is light upon my shoulders, not weighted with unpaid debts like those of many others, know that the Lord of the Crimson Court whom I serve now would know I have chosen a different allegiance and likely as not he would be able to guess which on. I could not be a spy nor hidden dagger for such is not my nature." Ser Dregaire pauses to pluck a mock orange bloom pale in the moonlight and twirl it between his fingers. "If your lord would count my pledge worth making an offer for than know I desire a knight's fief, fair arms and armor and perhaps a nobler mount that the fey steed my current lord can provide."

Do you make an explicit offer?

[] Yes, you could always use another skilled warrior and his knowledge of the Court of Stars's intrigues in the Reach would be worth learning
-[] Write in offer

[] No, better not to risk tipping your hand with recruitment
-[] Write in

[] Write in

OOC: Once again a short update, but I could not really move past this decision point without player input.

 

[DragonParadox]

Of Fey Fortunes ​

Twenty Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 293 AC

Ser Dregaire is, as you had expected, unsurprised by the revelation of your identity, though he is both surprised and intrigued to be carried to the distant lands of Draconys, the hot breath of Valyria's furnace upon the wind. Eyes fixed upon the crimson glow in the distance the fey knight asks with something that might be awe or pity in his voice: "Mortal men choose to live here with so much of the world open to them? Do they not know what lies beyond?"

"They know. There have been those who dwelt in even more perilous places," you assure him, thinking of the Old Blood in their caverns. "By this courage and diligence, Ser, these lands can be made a credit to the realm, and its people stand all the perils that linger just out of sight."

So it is that as the sun is birthed red as blood from the smoke and cinder of Valyria's tomb that your newest bannerman swears his oaths upon the land that shall be his to keep and to guard. A moment later he mounts his new steed, part horse, part eagle, part horned guardian, its coat the green of cypress trees and begins to survey the nearby crags for the best place to set down a keep. Not quite the kind of knighthood the Court of Stars is anticipating, but certainly one nearer to your heart.

It seems to you that somewhere far to the west you can hear the rage of the Lord of the Crimson Court, quickly lost to the shifting wind.

***​

By the time you return to Ashford, meeting the others in the common room of the same tavern you had first met Ser Dregaire, the feast is well done. Ser Richard has a pouch of heavy gold dragons added into one of his arcane pockets, courtesy of an effusive Ser Owen, and Rina looks... not happier precisely, but more at ease than you have ever seen her. She is clearly still worried about what the fey pact means for Lord Ashford, what else he might swear away, either in ignorance or from a perceived lack of alternatives, but there seems to be less distance between her and the rest of the patrons as she eats her breakfast of goat's milk and flat cakes with local honey, chatting with Dany as she does so.

"Do you know Lord Ashford asked Rina to marry her?" Dany asks with a sly smile, making Rina throw her a faintly exasperated look.

"It was a jest, he was just being dramatic," she assures you.

"He played it off as a joke when he saw the look on your face," your sister counters. "In any case, you shouldn't accept the first marriage proposal you hear."

"That was not the first proposal I received," Rina says, a bit of her cheer fading to melancholy.

"Oh..." Dany sighs, recalling how Rina had gotten into the Silent Sisters. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be, it was fun," your friend replies. "Either way I'm not that girl anymore, I've more to live and fight for than she ever did."

You feel a smile creep unbidden upon your face, for all the worries this trip has brought to the fore you are glad to have made it for much more than the knowledge it earned you.

***​

"Just how serious was Lord Ashford?" you ask Dany later as you begin to shuffle through the reports from the House of Mirrors, written on paper not parchment you are glad to see.

"About two tenths serious. He would have asked her who she is if she had said yes for one thing," Dany giggles. "I don't think she would have or really could have said yes. Rina has seen and knows too much to slip back into the mold she was raised into, for all she may recall that once-yearning fondly now. She is becoming..." your sister trails off with uncharacteristic hesitation. "Fey I think, winter fey such as there have not been in ages of the world."

"That is a good thing surely," you answer, a touch confused at her tone. "Winter should not be the death of all things, but one more part of the turning of years."

"Oh it is, and I certainly don't mind the company fey, not even Glyra when she's being annoying ," her smile is fleeting. "It's just the idea of someone becoming fey that sits ill with me. Is she just going to wake up one day and find herself bound to the same strictures as the Orphne Lord or Moonsong? Will she just think that is normal and good because some fate dictated a transmutation of her very soul?"

You consider her words for a long moment before replying: "You could say the same about us too you know, we are not wholly as we were, born mortals under the sun, not in what we have seen nor in what we have chosen to become. Rina's magic as much as ours is an expression of her will."

Dany curses sharply in Abyssal. "I was doing the same thing that frustrates me the most when other people do it to me."

"No, you were being worried for a friend, and now you see that the worry is not needed," you assure her.

The report does not make as grim a reading as you have feared. In addition to the Houses Lord Ashford named, House Ball, House Blackbar and House Meadows had been approached by the Court of Stars' agents, all refusing the pact with various degrees of vehemence. In fact, you suspect that might be the cause of young Lord Meadows' hostility to magic. By contrast, Lord Orton Merryweather and Lord Martyn Mullendore are currently in talks with agents of the Court of Stars.

Lord Lord Humfrey Hewett of Oakshield makes something of a particular case since he was offered the deal with the court of Stars by Garth the Green himself in the company of the new Lord of Greyshield, but both of them served as poor envoys of the Court of Stars, privately counseling the lord not to take the bargain unless Deep Ones raids grew impossible to resist. The only other Houses you have found to have embraced the bargain of the Court of Stars are House Peake, the minor House Ruxton and perhaps unsurprisingly House Osgrey of Coldmoat, whose lord is said to be attempting to court a nymph.

Now to see what those you have gathered for the task think of the dongs of the Court of Stars.

How do you introduce the council of strategy, what questions do you ask?

[] Write in

OOC: Hopefully this isn't too scattered, I wanted to give some space to how Rina is doing and Dany's worries but also move things along.