Turn 10: Results Part I
Lord Yorbert Royce was exactly what you expected him to be. An older man with a well weathered and proud face, his beard almost entirely white, his arms still carrying a hint of the strength he must have had in his youth, even if the years were otherwise clearly beginning to tax him. His bronze armor was ornate, but could only do so much to hide the heft that had grown around his midsection. In his day, he was likely quite the warrior, though those days were long gone.
The two of you were meeting in a manse House Royce kept just outside of Gulltown's walls. The two of you had broken your fast on bacon, some cheeses, and fresh baked bread still hot from the oven.
"Enjoy that while you can," the man said as servants cleared the table. "Knowing this city, most of your meals from here on out will be fish, fish, and even more fish."
"I'll keep that in mind," you replied. "So. I must ask, Lord Royce, why did you wish to speak to me?"
You had several ideas in mind but there was no need to be completely blunt about it.
"First I wanted to thank you for helping my daughter annul her marriage," Lord Royce said diplomatically. "I know Queen Alysanne herself arranged the match and I mean no disrespect to her or your family, but Daemon was not a suitable fit for my daughter."
"That is why I agreed to help after all," you replied. "Marriages are supposed to build alliances while Daemon and Rhea's was only causing political complications. And both of them very much wanted out of it."
"Well said," the Lord of Runestone nodded. "I'll have a new husband for Rhea lined up by the time your tour is over. Thankfully since she's my heir, I've had no end of offers from various houses since the annulment was offical."
You tensed at his words, how many marriage offers would be awaiting you in King's Landing when you returned?
"I also must commend your handling of Ser Arnold. Rhea says she's never seen anyone handle a blade with such skill," Lord Royce went on.
You raised an eyebrow. "So you don't take issue with Arnold's death?" you questioned skeptically. "He had squired for you when he was younger, spent many years in Runestone. I thought you would be more upset over his fate."
Lord Yorbert's expression faltered for a second. "I was upset," he admitted. "Until Rhea came to me upon your arrival and told me all the horrid things he had said in the Eyrie. I raised that boy to be better than that."
A temper raised through his old bones as he spoke. "If he had spoken to my Rhea like that,I would have made sure he lived long enough to regret it," he declared in a growl. "I taught him to treat women better than that."
"Did you?" you questioned pointedly. "I know you didn't teach him to respect his cousin's title."
Perhaps too blunt, but you weren't not going to let this man pretend he hadn't tried to overthrow Lady Jeyne himself a few years ago. Yorbert's face twitched, the man looking like he was chewing something vile as he stared at you.
"I did what I thought was best at the time for my house and the Vale," Yorbert's voice grew more curt as he spoke. "I thought I knew Arnold. Believed he would make a great Lord. The gods have said otherwise though."
"Indeed they have," you face betrayed nothing of your lingering doubts bubbling inside.
"My concern now is Arnold's son, Eldric," Lord Yorbert explained. "The boy could be turned into a pawn by those who still seek to have Lady Jeyne removed."
You stared at him in confusion. "Eldric Arryn is a boy of three and his father's claim was proven false when he lost the trial by combat. Most who supported him are now either heading to Castle Black or dead. What threat of rebellion could there be?"
"For now, none. But we both know the odds are poor that the Lady of the Eyrie will ever marry. She's told me as such," Yorbert sighed with clear fustration. "Eldric is her next of kin and rightful heir. Yet I know Arnold's behavior has all but ensured she will never see him as such"
"I don't see how that matters in anyway," you said dismissively. "My cousin's enemies have been dealt with. Who she appoints her heir is her concern."
"Time and the hill tribes have not been kind to the Arryn line," Yorbet was getting increasingly energetic in his words. "After Eldric, the nearest Arryn relatives she has are fourth cousins. Men with barely a manse to their name, who's mothers were the daughters of rich merchants instead of proper lords! Their legitmacy will not be respected and people will challenge their right to rule."
You realized that meant that you and any childreny you may have were fairly high up in the line of Arryn succession. Utterly irrelevant right now, considering you couldn't hold both the Vale and the Iron Throne at the same time, nor would you want to, but it was something to note.
"If you convince Jeyne to make Eldric her heir it will show the Vale that succession will be secure for generations to come and we will all be able to put Arnold's madness behind us. Jeyne's reign is secure, the Vale is orderly once again, and we all benefit," he finished.
"You do understand you are essentially asking me to tell Jeyne that she should not dictate her succession as she sees fit," you couldn't help but point out. "I cannot say I'm fond of the idea of making an argument that could be used against my own succession."
"Your succession is backed by the large dragon currently engorging itself on entire barrels of fish," Royce countered. "Jeyne's is backed by centuries of Andal custom. The two are not the same."
You could tell he realized he was not doing much to convince you, his shoulders slumped in frustration.
"The odds of me making it through this coming winter are small," he confessed. "Every month the aches within grow worse. I will not see Eldric become a man, so if you're worried I am using him as a puppet for my own desires-"
"There is a history there, you have to admit," you stepped in. "If I was Jeyne, I would think you are trying to do the same thing with Eldric that you did with his father."
"If I live to see that boy reach his tenth nameday it would be a miracle," the lord said bluntly. "Ideally, I would like him to be Rhea's ward. Instill good values into the boy while helping to repair relations with our liege."
The pain in his tone made it clear as the midday sun that part of this, perhaps a large part of this, was for personal reasons. He had raised Arnold Arryn and clearly he was both pained by his death and regretful for what kind of man Arnold had become. Eldric was his chance to set things right.
Even with the personal bias here, you could see the argument. If Jeyne had made Eldric her heir it would do a lot to secure the line of succession and appease those houses that had sided with Arnold.
At the same time, making him successor could just stir up trouble when he came of age. Perhaps others would use him as a puppet, or maybe he would decide he deserved to rule more than Jeyne. And promising such power to the son of the man you killed left you troubled. It had been just, but would he see it that way, decades from now?
You saw a few paths forward here. You could agree to help Lord Royce and write a letter to Jeyne encouraging her to take Eldric as her heir. You couldn't force her, but your voice would go a long way after all you've done for her. It was very doubtful that she would tolerate Eldric remain a ward of Runestone, but she had plenty of loyal vassals who could foster the child. Jeyne could foster him as well, though you weren't sure how she felt about children.
On a more pragmatic level, if the concern was simply matters of succession, it would be a simple matter to encourage Jeyne to have Eldric sent to the Citadel, a Sept, or the Wall when he came of age. It would offend Royce and it was a harsh fate for sure, but he was the child of a man who had made himself your enemy. Plenty of people in your situation had done far worse.
Of course, the easiest solution might also be the best solution in this case. Do nothing. Let Jeyne handle it. Jeyne was an ally, not your puppet, not even your vassal yet, and she seemed fully capable of leading. Maybe the two of you could talk matters of succession in a few decades when they actually might matter beyond a freak accident.
What's your reponse to Lord Royce's proposal?
[] [Royce] Agree to Write to Lady Jeyne Arryn
-[] Suggest having Rhea Royce foster Eldric
-[] Suggest Jeyne foster Eldric personally
-[] Suggest one of Jeyne's vassals foster Eldric
[] [Royce] Decline, Write to Jeyne and suggest having Eldric sent to the Citadel or some other means of removing him from succession when he comes of age.
[] [Royce] Decline to get involved. This is Jeyne's business, not yours.
[] [Royce] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
"I do not see the point of this, Princess," Ser Tarly protested as you prepared for the duel. "This Braavosi has nothing to teach you."
You had found a Water Dancer at the docks. He was a thin looking man with sharp angular features and a shaved head. He was apparently in Gulltown by accident, his ship being forced to flee to the harbor after damage from autumn storms. The way he held himself and his blade convinced you he was competent enough to provide something of a challenge at least. So, after you talked with him for a while and handed over a few gold dragons, he agreed to meet you at Lord Grafton's training yard and spar with you.
The training yard was small and private, only a few of Lord Grafton's staff along with Alicent and her brother were bothering to watch, along with your sworn shield of course. Who seemed to think this entire duel was a waste of time.
On the surface, you could understand where he was coming from. You may have been young, but you were bigger than this scrawny twig of a man and you had training armor while he insisted on wearing nothing more than some flashy Braavosi outfit. But you had heard tales of Braavosi water dancers and bravos. They fought just as well as any knight in Westeros, just in a far different fashion.
"I'm not paying him to teach me, I'm paying him to fight," you argued. "You did say I need to fight more people. Broaden my horizons."
"How many people in the Seven Kingdoms water dance?" Ser Raylon argued. " You're learning to fight something you'll never encounter again."
"You are from the marches, yes?" The Braavosi spoke up, his common highly accented. "Then you must know how the Dornish fight. Quick on there feet, often with very little armor."
"The Dornish usually fight with spears," your sworn shield all but growled. "But, I see your point," he begrudgingly admitted.
All you had fought were knights. Ser Tarly was a knight, as was your first master at arms and every man you had ever challenged. You were curious what it was like to fight someone who wasn't a knight and indeed fought in a completely different style but was nevertheless competent in their own right.
"I am grateful my ship departs soon," the Braavosi said as he turned towards you. "Having the King of Westeros offended that I hurt his child would not do well for my chances of surviving."
"Overconfident, are we?" you smirked as you prepared your wooden sword.
The first fight between you two would prove that his confidence was entirely earned. You realized quickly that it was not just a matter of speed with Water Dancers, it was more about how they moved during combat. A blade was fast, particularly your blade, but the man seemed to be able to read your attacks before they had even begun and flowed around them easily. You could never fight like this man. The way he ducked and leaned around your blows simply wasn't doable in armor, and frankly you weren't sure if you were fast enough.
In a matter of moments you were flat on your back, while the Water Dancer stood there casually, leaning on his wooden sword.
"You did pay to fight me, my lady," he said, his voice quiet smug. "Not make you look good in front of your friends."
"I know," you said as you pulled yourself up, an eager smile still on your lips. "And you're earning your coin today. Again!"
The second match went better. The man knew how to move but he was clearly more used to fighting oafs who depended on their strength over any skill. He was fending you off but you were making him sweat for it. Still, you couldn't even land a hit on him before he knocked the blade out of your hand.
In the third match you managed to catch his sword with yours and knock it out of his hand. A win, but not one of skill, as catching his blade had surprised you as much as it did him. Perhaps that was the biggest flaw of his style. Without armor, a lucky blow would be far more likely to wound him then it would a knight from Westeros. He had to evade every blow from his opponent to win while a reasonable skilled swordsman only needed to hit him once.
"Well fought," the Braavosi bowed. "It is rare I for me to encounter a Westerosi who gives the blade the proper respect it deserves."
"Thank you," you took the compliment well. "And it has been quite some time since someone gave me that much challenge."
Breakbones had been more of a struggle over all, but Ser Harwin had also never won against you either.
"While there is nothing I could do to train you," the man said as he packed up his things, "I do have some advice, if you are willing to hear it."
"Of course" you nodded.
"Your sword work is exceptional. It is not water dancing but you were taught well," he replied, earning a slight nod from Ser Raylon, "but you could improve on your footwork. You might become even more deadly with a blade if you moved your feet more while you fought instead of rooting yourself in one place."
"I'll be sure to keep that in mind, thank you."
Prowess Improved
Despite the relatively small size of Lord Grafton's Castle, his Great Hall was quite large indeed. Which it very much needed to be, as the man had crammed just about every lord of note in the Vale, save for Lady Jeyne herself, into the room along with large tables filled with food.
The feast began with bowls of blackberries and cream served with smokeberry wines. After that was a course of roasted larks stuffed with garlic and onions, followed by fish
So much fish. You had never realized how much fish there really was, or that there were so many ways of preparing it. Most of it was quite good, the crab here was so good it would make the Celtigars boil with envy. Some of it though? Some of it left a lot to be desired. Whoever invented jellied eels deserved to be sent to the Wall, or preferably thrown off of it.
You spent most of the early meal conserving with Lord Grafton himself, but now, four courses in, you had grown rather bored. Actually, that wasn't true. You had grown bored of Lord Grafton some five minutes in. By now, you were beginning to reach the limits of how much you could even tolerate the man. Lord Grafton had a unique talent for filling the air with so many words when he talked, regardless of the subject. And it wasn't as though his sheer volume of words added anything meaningful to the conversation. More than once you heard him make a point with five paragraphs that could have easily been made just as well with two sentences.
Frankly, you were fairly convinced the man simply loved the sound of his own voice, and thought drowning out any who disagreed with him with his sheer blabbering was as good as actually winning an argument.
Thankfully, while this feast lacked any dancing, by now enough courses had been served and alcohol consumed that people were getting loose and starting to mingle, giving you plenty of excuse to step away from the conversation.
But what to do instead? you could just sit in a corner and try to relax. But now was the perfect time for conversation as well.
Perhaps you could bury a hatchet tonight. Several Sistermen lords and other former Arnold supporters or their families were gathered here and though they tried to hide it, you could see the tension behind their faces as they greeted you earlier. You could try talking them up, find some common ground and smooth things with them, though the wrong word could just make things worse.
Several knights where here as well, talking up how they fared in the tourney. Maybe listening in could provide some insight.
There were plenty of people you could talk to tonight as well. Rhea Royce was here, as was her father but would be the point of chatting with him again? As was Steffon Redfort and Isembard Arryn. And, of course, you could always spend the rest of the evening talking with your darling lady.
How Do You Spend the Rest of the Feast? (Pick Two)
[] [Feast] Try and Relax
[] [Feast] Talk with the Former Arnold Supporters.
[] [Feast] Listen to the Knights
[] [Feast] Talk to
-[] Alicent Hightower
-[] Gwayne Hightower
-[] Steffon Redfort
-[] Isembard Arryn
-[] Raylon Tarly
-[] One of the Serving Girls
-[] Write-in
[] [Feast] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
QM's Note: This sincerely was one of the hardest updates of this quest to write and I really don't know why. Sorry for the delay. Also, just FYI I started a second quest. It's entirely original, it's about Magical Girls and the Collapse of the United States, the votes decided to play as a magical surfer. Check it out if you want.
ko-fi.com
