>>558058
Should probably have prepared the opening before making the thread mate.

Dragon's Gate was the closest entrance to King's Landing, and quite frankly the smell of the other lower class transients did little to bother you. Nightsoil and sweat, in your experience, had the same sent even if they came from a septon rather a vagabond. Besides it was past sundown, and you needed an a place to stable your horses and a roof over your head as well.

“We made it. By the Seven it's huge” Daeron said, eyes darting back and forth over buildings and towers that comprised King's Landing. Plain, uncritical wonder and excitement danced around in his normally dull brown eyes. Not surprising for him, he Curious, while you never had been here yourself, Oldtown kinda of soured you on experience of steeping into a city this big. Ivory creeped up their marble walls, not plain long yellowish weeds like these. And the brown on the sides was paint, not shit. Still the city had it's own beauty and not all of it harsh. In the distance, Baelor's uncompleted sept was nearing completion and it's pale golden dome shone brightly even now.

“Forgive me for prying Ser Wil, but how are your accommodations for tonight? My townhouse has at least a whole quarter all to itself that you and your boy can feel free to use. Least I could do, seeing as I had to break the news to you.” Ser Jon Mallister asked, with polite indifference in his voice. The man was capable of great sympathy and manners, but the man was blunter than your warhammer

>A) Thank you, Daeron let's go

>B.) Thank you, Daeron go with Frey...I need a drink

>C.) Thank you but no, we don't want to try your hospitality

>>558218
I had actually, but my dog needed to go out and decided to get her walk out of the way.

>>558246
>A) Thank you, Daeron let's go

>>558246
>>A) Thank you, Daeron let's go
Health is Endurance x 3 though and you could have continued in the previous thread.

>>558246
>A. Why the fuck not

With a curt nod, Ser Jon leads the way, flanked by his Whent knights. As you passed little hole in the wall shops, taverns, and a breed of more fancy and upscale street vendors doing a slightly more dignified job of selling their left over inventories than their less fortunate brethren in Flea's Bottom did, what actually caught your eye were the number of flags and coat of arms flying high in the air above the approaching townhouses. Those shops and their merchants were a dime a dozen, their wares and the quality changing city to city, realm to realm but the type of people them seldom really did.

You excepted Crownlands sigils, and yes, they were there in abundance. The multi colored spirals of House Massey, the seahorses of House Velaryon, the running steed of House Malroy, and the drunken lamb of House Strokesworth were all there but there were more. The red lions of Castmere, the spiders of House Webber, the abundant bounty falling out of a golden horn from the Merryweathers', and hell even the Tarths and the Footes from the Stormlands. Given the fresh lights from bright candles from you knew all were filled and most probably with at least one knight or lord readying for the Daeron's Memorial Tourney in the day after tomorrow.

As you approach the silver eagle of Mallister, where a shorter but studier and cleaner building of light grey stone, Daeron's familiar nasally voice raises above you. While a little shaking it seems firmer.

Ser, I mean Lord, are you certain I can't participate in the Squire's Melee? I know I stand little chance of winning, but this will be my only chance to take part in one this big. I will not shame you, I've been preparing to be a knight my whole life. Besides, no more importantly, you can tell me where I'm weakest. I want more than a famous name my lord, I want to be good.” Daeron says, as he dismounts his horse. One hand was on the reigns his mount Midnight and the other was tentatively approaching Sunshine's. His eyes that usually went the ground found yours for a moment.

A.) I want no part in this folly Daeron and I will not shame your father no.

B.) Maybe failure will teach you some humility. Fine. But do not except my criticism to be honeyed.

C.) Let me sleep on it.

>>558454
Yeah I'm still new to this, sorry

>>558460
Hey, I was giving you options to explore more here.

>>558528
A.) I want no part in this folly Daeron and I will not shame your father no.

>>558528
Allow me this, give me one good reason why I should not allow you, and I'll give you one why I should allow you. Let's go back and forth and see which one stops first.

>>558623
Yeah, okay I'll take that as an option.

“Allow me this, give me one good reason why I should not allow you, and I'll give you one why I should allow you. Let's go back and forth and see which one stops first.” You say dismounting your horse, and gazing down at the Frey boy. Daeron, looking down at his feet at first and then Jon Mallister for support and when he found none, returned your gaze if only for a moment. You had to admit, the boy had more gumption than you have him credit for, but he was still less than half a man grown physically and mentally, greener than where your house's Owl stand on your coat of arms.

“I...I might get hurt.” Daeron said, his eyes falling back on the floor.

“You'll get some battle experience.” You admit.

“If I do poorly, I might shame you and my Lord father. He in turn would be angry at you for no reason other than my pride” He said, his eyes meeting yours again and a little defiant.

“You'd get to brag to your whelps that you attend a tourney held by a fool king.” You say placing Sunshine reigns in his hands.

“I...I...might hurt someone” Daeron began and ended much later as you were about to follow Jon Mallister into his residence.

“I want no part in this folly Daeron and I will not shame your father. Not by your loss, not harm coming to you, but for seven forbid you killing another squire as green as you and perhaps starting a feud for what sounds like the whim of a dismal king.” You say harshly, until you see the Frey's shoulder slump and his head hang low in defeat “I promise you there will be other melees, ones you'll be prepared for and that won't cost you, your father, or me our honor.”

As you head into the Mallister town home, outside the quality of the signifiers of the Mallister's rank and title like curtains, trophies, or depicting their words or the Eagle is how utilitarian it was. Always fine light gray irons on silverware or tunics and fabrics made of fine material, but never embroiled with expensive colors or bothering depicting vestiges of the animals on chamber pots.

Conversation is sparse thought somewhat pleasant as dinner is served. It's a three course meal, greens and carrots, thick creamy soups with celery and potato chunks floating to the surface to provide delicious mouthfuls when you decide to chew, and a type of local fish as the main course that tastes more than a little sweet.

Ser Jon asking after your sister and how the Freys' treated you after he last left the Twins, shortly of course after he earned his knighthood. You asking after Seaguard and how Spring is treating Cape of Eagles. But the laughter had died after you left the Dancing Dragon. Finally as the last of the lemon pie is off your plate, you notice that Jon's demeanor has grown even more seriously than normal.
“The question now is, what do we do? I am not like, I never was a tourney Knight Wil. I'm decent with a sword but I've always been better with a pen and parchment, so I never hoped to impress or brag to any type of King but I can't trust anything but flattery to handle his sort. How can we be sure he treats us fairly? While I doubt he'd outright rob us of our rights, the man might try to find a way to line his pockets at our expense.”

A.) We'll see Prince Daeron II, he has enough authority to deal with this no doubt.

B.) Mishaps the Hand might be easier to deal with.

C.) Pleasant or not, it's Aegon we have to deal with. Maybe the stories are just exaggeration

>>558965
C.) Pleasant or not, it's Aegon we have to deal with. Maybe the stories are just exaggeration

Seeing his son when there is so much bad blood would be a bad idea.

>>558965
>C.) Pleasant or not, it's Aegon we have to deal with. Maybe the stories are just exaggeration

>>558965
>B.) Mishaps the Hand might be easier to deal with.
Either we have Lord Bracken or Lord Butterwell as Hand, one is playing it up to Aegon and the other is witty but not Hand material..which could be used in our favor.

“Pleasant or not, it's Aegon we have to deal with. Maybe the stories are just exaggeration” You state handing your mostly empty plate to a serving woman in a dull gray tunic. It wouldn't surprise you. Lechery and adultery often lead others to think even worse of the person than they actually were.

“Mayhaps, if you forgive me Ser Wil, we have an early mourning ahead of us I think turning in early would be the for the best” Jon Mallister said, rising from his seat and towards the staircase and presumably towards his chambers. Daeron had long departed for his, no doubt disappointed in your final answer to him participating in the Squire's Melee. Taking one last sip of lemon water, you finally head to the quest wing.

The rest of the night is an extreme blur, you pretty much collapse instantly on t he guest mattress, and stare at dark ceiling when sleep refuses to overtake you. In the dark you can't see the make of the walls or ceiling, but sometimes you swear you see the shape of your father Roland or brothers Gawen or Petyr. Eventually either you lose track of time or fall into a dreamless sleep and the mourning's sun creeps up on you, your eyes stinging slightly as the light touches your eyes

>A.) Ride directly to the palace to see King Aegon.

>B.) Offer to take Daeron to see the Squire's Melee first.

>C.) Wait by the King's Gate for your sister.

>>559324
>>A.) Ride directly to the palace to see King Aegon.

>>559324
>>C.) Wait by the King's Gate for your sister.

>>559324
>B.) Offer to take Daeron to see the Squire's Melee first.

Send someone to request an audience with the king.

>>559386
yeah, the Whents can do this.

>>559324
>C.) Wait by the King's Gate for your sister.

Your early mourning is spent dressing, cleaning yourself, and eating a brief breakfeast of eggs, bacon, and a small bowl of portage. Having not bothered to wait for Jon or Daeron, it's not for the quality of last night supper having not even bothered to wake the servants. As the cleaning women first start to approach your quarters and hearing the first stirring from Daeron's room, you make finally get to making your squire's life hell.

“We're leaving in thirty minutes. I except your dressed and your just preparing polishing my armour correct?” You ask loudly, all mock affection.

With a more than a little muttering and you guess is a little cursing, Daeron manages to make out dressed and with your equipment prepared only ten minutes late and having missed breakfeast. You can't help but smile as he struggles to curse in your presence and hide his pouting. It was all for the best though, the boy had a soft upbringing despite his father and your teachers best intentions, he needed a little hardening up, a little of light hearted hazing his father was in retrospect king enough to bless you with.

The problem though was finding an empty and decent enough tavern or potshop with an empty seats, that were presentable, and offered a decent overlook of the King's Gate. After about an hour you find place with enough seats for all of you, a place you'd not get your purse pinched, and actually have a chance of seeing her out of crowd.

“My lord, I missed breakfast, is there any chance I can get something to eat?” Daeron asks careful, but not careful enough, to keep the bitterness out of his voice.

“Fine, some soup, nothing more. I'll take pity on you today but you are to eat when I eat. Your here to learn and serve me, not the other way around. There will be no nanny's for you at Fatebound either, so you best learn some self reliance now.” You say, shaking your head when the cook asks after you.

After devouring his onion soup in about three gulps, Daeron Frey looks at you in a mixture of caution and curiosity.

“You've never really talked about your sister before. Is there some reason? At the Twins the only thing we Frey's discuss pretty much nothing but each other.” Daeron says, as his eyes dart up at the last second and blush appears on his face.

“My baby brother might be a blatter mouth about poltics and his lists, but he's so private and embrassed like a silent sister when it comes us. You have to forive him” a giddy mocking voice replies behind your head.

“Hello Brienne” You say in a resigned tone of voice. Your sister always had a way of getting the drop on you.

A.) Sister, while I'd love to chat with you, it'd be best if you waited at Fatebound

B.) Brienne meet Daeron Frey, Daeron Frey my Lady sister.

C.) While it would be nice to catch up, from the look of the soup the boy ate this isn't the place. Why not the Squire's Melee?

>>559788
C.) While it would be nice to catch up, from the look of the soup the boy ate this isn't the place. Why not the Squire's Melee?

Lets chat while watching the melee

>>559788
>C.) While it would be nice to catch up, from the look of the soup the boy ate this isn't the place. Why not the Squire's Melee?

Two birds one stone.

>>559788
>B.) Brienne meet Daeron Frey, Daeron Frey my Lady sister.
>A.) Sister, while I'd love to chat with you, it'd be best if you waited at Fatebound.

Your sister gives a quick snort, nose twitching slightly, you call tell from one look at her face she was only pretending to be prickled about being rushed. Her green eyes could never hide her mischief, though it was really her eyes the men looked at. It was heard being brother to Brienne the Beauty, even as a child you had to beat off her suitors...your fellows pages and the squires serving at Fatebound with a stick.

As you duck into Steel Street, hearing the jeers and pitches, you notice as tall as you've gotten over the years...your sister has too. At least six and half, and with her pale brown hair it always amazed you that not only that she was a woman and not just sinewy lanky giant of a boy, but given the barely sublte leers your squire was giving her, it was apparent that not only was she but a pretty one at that. As you slapped Daeron over the head, you hear a sullen gruff and only then notice Ser Erik Alden's golden brown eyes and bald head gleaming.
“I'm surprised you came Ser Erik, you rarely leave Stormlands” You say, offering a smile to his perpetual frown.

“Your sister needed an escort, Maester Domeric and Captain Brynden were more than adequate to look over Fatebound while meet up with you. I'm sorry about your father, Wil, he was good man” Ser Erik said.

“Well at least he died doing what he loved, killing Dornishmen or least preparing too” You say, looking back at him and then your sister as she offers a sad but genuine giggle.

“I think jokes are a little inappropriate at a time like this” Erik said, voice growing even more sullen and serious then usual.

“That was always separated you and my father Ser Erik. He had his faith and his sword, but he always a smile and laugh too. Twas why the Gods made us, but to laugh and smile, is something he'd always say” Brienne said, before flicking a stag into the hat of a beggar you'd hadn't seen until that moment, not once turning her head from the path ahead of her. She never took to physical activities much but she had the eyes of a knight.

By the time you arrive at the Meele, it quickly becomes apparent that most of the stands have been taken, it seems Crownlanders really didn't make up the majority here. Mother's Mercy of Brienne wanted to see the lists tomorrow.

“Damn, we'll never make it the stands...may we please stand with the hedge knights and the peasants my lord. I really want to see this.” Frey whines, somewhat endearingly for a change. “I promise to wake up before you tomorrow and clean the...”

In what shocks you completely Daeron Frey falls to his knees, his face touching the dirt. You see the same look of surprise on your sister's face, except with a slight twinge of amusement before she glances towards your direction and a slight blush touches her face.

“I think that would be in bad taste. Forcing the son and daughter of patriots to stand on a day that was meant to honor their father and brothers when they just laid down their lived, even on a foolish cause? A slap in the face. My pavilion has more than enough seats for all of you.” A soft, friendly regal voice answers for you.

You turn your head, and see a man barely tall enough to come to your shoulders. His face looked fresh but had common and rough features that made him somehow look like a kindly grandfather as well as a man in twenties. Thin and slight of frame, the only thing that normally would stand out about him normally would be his slight pot belly. But his eyes told a different story, a one of quiet strength beneath their almost hypnotic purple shade.

“Prince Daeron II, it's a pleasure Lord Deschain” he said, offering a smile revealing pearl white teeth.

> A.) Bow and take him up on his offer

> B.) Bow and try to disengage

>>560259
> A.) Bow and take him up on his offer

>>560259
>> A.) Bow and take him up on his offer

>>560259
>> A.) Bow and take him up on his offer

>>560259
>> B.) Bow and try to disengage
>everyone literally forgetting there was a vote on who to see regarding our issues that went to the king
>immediately jumping at the chance to slob on the Prince's knob who is clearly trying to court a marcher lord to his side in the royal feud

Y'all need to get your shit together and politic better.

>>560360
We are merely enjoying the melee anon

>>560374
>stormlanders in charge of understanding how to play the game
wew lad

You are not seeing the big picture if you truly believe that. That being seen with the Crown Prince, in his private booth upon our immediate arrival to Kings Landing in a very public setting, as the new Lord of Fatebound and with news of our House's fortunes downturn spreading abound, that somehow through all of that it is just "enjoying the melee". It is a political statement even if intentional, at worst a slight to the King if news travels and is misconstrued before reaching his ears, and it will be, before our audience that again I'll remind we voted on attending first. To avoid the royal feud. We are a marcher House with strong reason to side with the King in this given how our family just died. Daeron is clearly playing at something more here, the flattery makes it so painfully obvious.

>>560495
Silly anon we are just watching people beat each other and the prince offered us a spot in his stand as there were no more room

>>560521
You quickly bow and agree to his offer, it's only when you raise your head you see the bright white cloak figure next to him. In head to toe, he was a walking paradox, nothing stood out in his plain glowing white plate amour but your eyes couldn't stop but stay on him. None of his features could be made out either, as he was covered entirely in that white steel. Nothing but his brilliant bright violet eyes.

Seven Hells you were right next to Aemon the Dragonknight

A mixed, but ecstatic and loud cheer erupts from the crowd as Daeron the II, his entourage, and ofcourse you enter and then pass the tourney field. The Targaryen Prince waved gracefully but a little briskly. The man didn't hate being the center of attention but was clearly slightly uncomfortable in it. That his nervousness came from the tourney ground, the prince was slightly infamous for never taking up steel or the traditional manly arts, preferring books, numbers, and music to the lance, sword, and bow.

Inside the pavilion, you noticed less the people then the coat of arms. Malroy's banner, you had seen only oh so briefly ago, was hung underneath the royal banner. Their was also an archer on a greenfield, the Tarly insignia, and the wheat of House Selmy a minor house you believed only slightly above landed knights.

When you finally sat down, less near the Prince and actually next to Aemon, you were almost forced against you will to appreciate the view. Was a little to far from the center and close to the ground to be the seat of honor where the King, his family, or the Hand traditionally sat but outside of horseback they were the greatest seats you had excepted to have until now.

The sound of the horses and muttering of the crowd almost completely distracted you from the from the sound of the horn and the waving banners of Red Stallion and a brown field but not entirely. You where however, almost entirely disinterested even when the Hand began informing the audience they King did not feel well and would not be joining this afternoon but he wished to express his gratitude and a bunch of nonsense you knew to be untrue the moment it came out of his mouth. He than ascended into the sub building next to and above yours and went completely out of sight.

>>560495
>We are a marcher House with strong reason to side with the King in this given how our family just died.

The realm was at peace thanks to Baelor marrying Dareon to Myriah Martell, Dorne had no reason to attack as long as she was held in King's Landing/Dragonstone.

He just wanted to conquer Dorne with Fire and Blood instead of playing the sandpeople.

The half grown men mounted their horses, some in fact a little older than you, you heard the Prince laugh at the joke of a dark skinned woman next to him. His Martell wife no doubt. For whatever reason that damned song about man killed over one played in your head.

“I never took to the lists before Lord Deschain, so forgive me but I'm going to have no choice but to bother you all day over this. Aemon and my wife have always tried explaining the melee to me but it's always in one ear out other”

“That's fine my Grace.” You say, you as startled and nervous as the Frey boy was to you. He was himself was silent as a monk at the moment.

“Who would you favor in the melee” He began, before the man underneath the Tarly flag laughed.

“These are but boys even if a couple of them are older than our friend Ser Wil...sorry Lord Deschain here. Most squires and knights don't get a reputation as quickly as he does my Grace.” He said with a laugh, the chalice in his hands slighly spilling some wine his belly. He offered a small curse and motioned over a serving girl to tend to him

“Ser Jason Tarly, I apologize but there's no need to bother the Prince with stories about me. A melee is more interesting than hearing a young man brag over what true knights do ever week.” You say, quickly trying to flag the young page holding the large pitchers of water. Last thing you wanted to do, was embarrass yourself in front the future king.

“He's blushing Lord Tarly, it isn't nice to drag a young man like him the spotlight” The Princess said, looking towards you and offering a small smile. “You look exactly like your father, Lord Deschain.”

“You knew him?” You ask, surprised.

“Yes, he was the first knight brave enough and skilled enough to breach into Sunspear after all. I was in his custody when my father surrendered the castle to him and Daeron the First. It doesn't surprise me you fight like him too. “ She said softly, no malice or regret coming from her voice.

“I might be the last person you want to hear this from, and I do mean no disrespect your lord father always treated me with kindness, but it would please me greatly if I were allowed to attend any funeral service you have for him.” She said in even softer voice, a hint of sadness washing over her voice.

>A.) Why? It seemed with all the blood he spilled you'd bear him ill will.

>B.) It would be my honor.

>C.) I must decline, my grace

>>560713
>At the beginning of this quest, an uneasy and unpopular peace has been forced on the Marcher Lords by the deceased King Baelor Targaryen, one championed by Prince Daeron II but also being plotted to be brought to an end by King Aegon IV.

Marcher Lord that was preemptively called to arms against the dornish. Perhaps they did not attack and we can believe a storm did them in but I find the situation at odds with the political climate at the Martells history of being snakes. Regardless Wil should have more of a disposition towards following the King to war against the dornish his family notwithstanding.

>>560799
As part of Baelor's peace a lot arranged marriages with the Dornish occured to show how faithful and loyal those bannerman were though.

While Wil has no Dornishblood in his veins, he has cousions and neighbors who have husbands, wives, and inlaws that do.

The marcher lords are as a majorty are definitely big Aegon supporters but many threw in their lot with Baelor's polices and agenda both out of cynicism and genuine belief that peace is the only to stop the constant border wars.

Also Wil spent the last 8 years at the Twins, with a people who frankly don't give a fuck. It's entirely up to you if Wil has a bone to pick with the Dornish.

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>>560787
>>A.) Why? It seemed with all the blood he spilled you'd bear him ill will.

>Malroy's banner, you had seen only oh so briefly ago

Should be Lord Garin Malroy up there with us. The one with a dornish bastard, interesting. Possible his grandsons Alliser or Howard are competing. Jesus Christ I never realized how much work Father put into this.

>>560830
I'm writing up a ton of Stormlands/Reach/Dorne backstory shit to fill in the blanks and Jesus Christ while I look at Father for inspiration, I also feel bad for going all out like he does.

>>560787
>B.) It would be my honor.

>>560787
>>B.) It would be my honor.
Daddy would have wanted it and it it his funeral.

>>560820
Honestly I'm just trying to kick up discussion and showcasing different viewpoints. No particular horse in this race and I'm fine with the direction of the majority, whatever it may be. HDW would be a riot.

Speaking of we should totally buy a fancy new horse from a certain horse lord.

“It would be my honor my Grace, but to be honest why? It seems with all the blood spilled you'd bear him some ill will” You say, finally getting a cup of water. As you do one boy managed to unhorse two others with a single stroke of a blunted ax and a feint with his horse, someone the crash of steel on the ground the smell of blood and horseflesh matters is but in the background.

“I told you my lord, throughout the two years of Daeron's rule of Dorne, he was beside me nearly at all times, like a second father or favorite uncle. He's read me passages from the Seven Pointed Star, taught me how to ride a horse, and even tucked me in at night. The next captor in charge of me did not near treat so gentle,.” She began, a nostalgiaic but sad smile forming around her face

“Once, I came down with a flu when I was younger, and even smuggled in my mother to see me when it looked like it might be fatal despite the express order of his King to keep my siblings and I separate from our parents at all cost. Yes, he killed my cousins and even an uncle on the battlefield, but when he could he always spared them and ransomed them even when he had almost every reason not to. Many of them, prior to having lucked into being bested by him, would have never returned the favor. You might think, that just because he bested the Sword of Mourning, we'd despise him true. But True Knights are honored and sung about with pride even among the foes they best. What better way to judge a man but by his enemies?” She turned to face the melee, you notice her husband's hand now clasping down on hers “Thank you for allowing me that honor. With all that's happened, especially of late, I would understand if you refused me.”

Your sister glares at you silently, nudging you arm as she does so, but then returns her gaze to the melee as well.

A queer quiet creepy upon the booth after that, Tarly enjoying his wine, Malroy looking into the fray with a quiet intensity, and Selmy more than a little withdrawn at the moment. The latter lord standing out a little too much, with his complete disinterest in anything. Even the tooth that flew only a couple inches away from his bowl of cherries


“You know, I do understand the draw of it even if I don't experience it myself” Daeron the II said suddenly. “The talent, the commitment, the skill combined into a pure competition. I can see why people jump and cheer everytime one of those children are knocked onto the dirt and possibly break their little bones. Not only do I no judge them, I envy them. My namesake is no doubt smiling at this display from the heavens. But alas, I've been made bitter from the mummer's version of it. Lady Brienne, tell me, have you ever slept with a King?”

“Of course not your Grace” She answered. Your sister, for the first time in her life, went beet red.

“Then you are truly rare here in King's Landing. It's become a common occurrence, whether the woman is willing or not.” He said. His face, you noticed had stopped looking so gentle and in some odd way resembled a skull. “My mother lies sick in her bed, while in the chamber next to her my father entertains the Hand's dear daughter. My lord father, he might like participating in the lists and reading his histories, but he loves courtesy and entertaining guests above all else.”

He looked at, and as he did Aemon's eyes darted ever so slightly towards you.

“Tell me my lord, what stories have you heard about my lord father.”

> A.) Only what the other marcher lords know my grace, that he plans on renewing hostilties with Dorne

>B.) A subtle version of what Ser Jon Mallister told to you

>C.) That he is my king and your father my grace

>D.) Stall

>>561003
>> A.) Only what the other marcher lords know my grace, that he plans on renewing hostilties with Dorne

I will do one more update tonight but continue this tomorrow afternoon.

Next thread will fall on a Friday and possibly another Sat. I will try to figure out Google spreadsheets in the meantime. I apologize for that.

>>561003
E.) Other
I'm sure I have heard this line of questioning befor, my grace. And I intend to guard against it as I am able.

I'll wait for the tie breaker tomorrow.

> A.) Only what the other marcher lords know my grace, that he plans on renewing hostilties with Dorne

>B.) A subtle version of what Ser Jon Mallister told to you

>>561003
>C.) That he is my king and your father my grace

>>560999
> my Grace

Think it is suppose to be "your grace"

>>561003
>B.) A subtle version of what Ser Jon Mallister told to you

The future kings wife is like right there bro...

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We are siding with best Aegon right ?

Sorry, internet went out last afternoon, by the time it my ISP fixed everything it was night. Updating in a hour or so

>>565805
Long hour there mate.

>>565562
>introduce our sister to the King
>he does his thing
>obtain great bastard
>use it to obtain great gains
>murder some dornish along the way as is every Marcher Lord's god given duty
Clearly we should.

>>565805
Are you kill ?

>>590796
4 days since his last replies, I'd say yeah, it's dead unless a freak accident killed his internet for good.