[Region RP] A World of Ice and Fire (IC)

[Alotopia]

A World of Ice and Fire Roleplay (Apps/Rules)

This Game of Thrones Roleplay is a Region RP for The World of Ice and Fire. The plot takes place one year after the Doom of Valyria (AD - After Doom). This is were we will post the rules and our Apps so we can access them easily and remember what House/Faction is taken.

OFFICIAL MAP: World of Fire and Ice

Apps: viewtopic.php?f=31&t=335147

Current Rules (subject to change):

1. All Nationstate's Rules apply.
2. No Metagaming, Godmodding, or being an asshole. We are here for fun, don't ruin it.
3. Consider travel times and your army's ability to maneuver. No one post jumps to capitals or the like. Sneak attacks can happen, but are nearly impossible.
4. Consider logistics and the layout of your region/city. Putting armies in the field costs money, you need to feed/pay/arm the troops. Its an undertaking which should not be done on a whim.
5. These are bannermen armies, in other words armies that are mobilized and formed from your general populace. You will only have a fraction of your forces active in peacetime. (Various garrisons/Household Guard forces etc.)
6. Watch out what you do or don't do to your King/Leige Lord. If you ignore them or move against them, they have every right to march to your city and destroy you.
7. This is Game of Thrones, people will be killed. Don't take it personally. However, you most definitely can not just kill a player's character by poison or ambush if they are not aware you are going to do it. (Example: You cannot say that when the King of the North takes a drink of wine, he dies all Joffrey style. No cool bro.)
8. A Dragon's max size at the beginning of the RP is 45m from head to tail.
9. Any Dragons larger than 45m at the start cannot have any impact against other players and must be dead as soon as possible.
10. OOC is completely different from the IC, so don't get sucked into the habit of defending your characters or their action In the OOC.
11. YOU are in control of your characters and their moves don't have to make sens. "Keep your enemies confused on what you will do next. Never be predictable"

Co-OP Council (WIP):
How it works: Each Co-OP has chosen an area (which do not include their faction in order to remain unbiased) which they will have jurisdiction and authority to enforce the rules. If you do not agree with their ruling, you can ask for the opinion of another Co-OP, but that is no guarantee that they will say you are right. If the two Co-OPs are in disagreement, the entire council will take it up and decide from there. However, this will only happen on really important rulings such as the death of a character or war disputes. However, blatant rule infractions will not be reviewed and will be punished as the Area Co-OP sees fit.
Alotopia - Co-OP of the Free Cities
Nuxipal - Co-OP of the Far East
House Tula - Co-OP of Northern Westeros
Krugmar - Co-OP of Slaver's Bay
Novae Vitae - Co-OP of the Summer Sea

Feel free to start posting below!!!

[Alotopia]

Ser Aegisys Martell
Vulture's Roost
Northern-most Castle controlled by Dorne

Vulture's Roost, a fitting name for this place... Aegisys Martell thought as he navigated the "road" to the top of the mountain, Deep within the Red Mountains, and easy view over most of the Marches... Why wouldn't Oyhs like this place? He can watch the Storm Lords and the Reach with ease...

It was a quiet walk to the top of the Mountain, the path was wide enough for three horses to walk side to side, but any false move could send you tumbling to the rocks below... And it didn't help that Dornish Archers could be seen in practically every direction. The mountain itself was a death trap, but to add the archers... Geez...

Oyhs spends too much time up here, it's like he isn't Lord of Sunspear at all!, Aegisys said as he neared the very top of the mountain. While he helped build the Castle, he had never actually been inside since it was completed. He knew the layout, but not what was in it. As he approached, the road began to narrow... Ahead was the bridge. The final obstacle in his path...

He neared the bridge and began to walk across with his horse. The horse slowly walked to the other side, careful with its footing... Occasionally rocks would fall off bridge and plummet to their doom. When he was about across, the large, 10 meter tall doors began to open. They were slow, much like a turtle, however before he knew it, the castle was open and he trotted inside... A armor-clad Dornishman was standing at attention with his hand outstretched, obviously wanting to stable Aegisys' horse. Aegisys slid off of his horse and handed the man his reigns. He then proceeded in the direction of the main Keep...

It was quiet at the near top of the Red Mountains, with only the wind and the massive Martell sigil fluttering in the wind. The sigil was specially made for this castle, as it was meant to mock the Stormlords by making it large enought that they could see it from their Castles in the Marches. Aegisys soon entered the large Keep and, for the first time, he saw what his brother had done to the Castle...

House Martell banners adorned the walls, while the walls were a sand color. Throughout the castle, fine furniture and decorations had been placed to signify House Martell's wealth. However, it was not that that struck him. As he searched for his brother, he spied a door with a door barely cracked open... As he looked through the crack, he could see a large, deep black table with maps thrown over it. He could barely make out some of the features: Sunspear, Plankley Town, The Tor, and the Vulture's Roost... However, one map caught his attention...

"Is that the Dor..." He was caught mid-sentence.

"Brother!" Oyhs said as he grabbed him and hugged him, "Good to see you! Shall we walk to the Nest?"

[Krugmar]

King Edric Stark 'the Weeping Wolf'
Battle of Sheepshead Hills

---

The battle was raging on around them, crimson flying everywhere as former friends murdered each other for bolts of cloth and the orders of their distant lords. Edric sat on his horse, observing the carnage before him. Ser Beron Harclay, ever his companion, stood beside him ready to die for him. Ser Byren Condon was in the thick of the fighting, attempting to find the traitor Kurt Wull and put the bastard out of his misery. He could not see Ser Tarner Marsh or his twin boys, but he had been assured that they were in the best of care under Ser Tarner. Ser Wyman Manderly, one of his other protectors, and the young but deadly Samn Tallhart rode up beside their king, having retreated from the battle to bring news.

"We have spotted the false knave Rygett Bolton sire" said Ser Wyman, courteous as ever. He was the model of a true Andal knight and a northern Wolf Brother at the same time. Few men could boast such martial prowess, chivalry and warm kindness as he.

"We should gut the traitor, sire, I volunteer myself to face him" said Samn, eager to prove himself in the battle and earn the admiration of his king.

"No" said Edric, stunning those around him. "I will face the traitor myself and remind him that Winter is Coming, and I am the King of Winter" he said, earning cheers from the cavalry that formed his bodyguard. "Onwards lads, lets kill these Red traitors!" he shouted, forcing his horse into a quick gallop.

"The King in the North!" was cried out many times, as was "The King of Winter!", and "Winter is coming for you!" as the northern bodyguard rode in to aid their army. His personal bodyguard included up to 500 of their finest, and it smashed into the Bolton lines, ripping apart smallfolk and any unfortunate nobles alike. Edric led the charge, his crowned helmet bearing the Iron Crown of War which bore the fearsome direwolf as a replacement for any kind of jewel that southerners might wear.

Ser Wyman's horse crashed into a spear and he went flying off his magnificent white steed which crumbled into the floor. His trident rather humorously flew through the air and, as if in some kind of revenge for the horse, managed to spear three unlucky Bolton soldiers. Edric could not see Ser Wyman, but hoped the best for him, he could not stop however, he had to find the traitor. They continued smashing through the lines, their resolve breaking as they went further into larger Bolton formations. By now his bodyguard was dwindling, most had been forced to break off and fight, but he still had a good one hundred men with him. Then he spotted him, Rygett Bolton the Kinslayer and betrayer.

Edric rode hard and fast for his enemy as his bodyguard dispersed the nearby Bolton troops. It did not take long to reach him, and he could only see the smug Bolton face glaring at him. "King in the North, I do hope your journey here was not too difficult" he said sarcastically, showing his shark teeth and viper tongue.

Edric leapt off his horse with an alarming alacrity for an older man. He ripped Ice out of the large scabbard tied to his horse, one of his bodyguards pulled the horse away. "I challenge you to personal combat Kinslayer, there will be no yielding, you will rot in hell with the Others". A circle was formed around them as the soldiers momentarily forgot they were fighting, it was a strange thing that would not last long.

Rygett took the first swing, clumsily swinging his longsword towards Edric. A quick parry by Edric almost sent him off his feet, he had not been expecting such strength. Rygett doubled back, regaining his balance, before going in for the next thrust. Edric curved Ice down and hit the blow away, grunting with the effort, he would not have the energy to keep on with this much longer. Rygett continued with his thrusts, jabs and attempts to smash Edric into the ground, but he did not give in. Yet the old King was tiring, perhaps he had been foolish to seek this fight himself?

Rygett managed to creep a blow in, smashing the King in the chest and sending him reeling back. Ice was dropped to the floor and Rygett looked greedily at it, abandoning his own sword and snatching the pride of the Starks. "Mine now old man, I think I will christen it Skinpeeler with your blood!" he shouted. Edric rolled out of the way of a chop which surely would have torn him in two, pushing himself up and drawing the shortsword he kept at his waist.

"You will know fear before I kill you, kinslayer, your father knew it before I cut his head off, and you will know it" he said, struggling for words. He could see Ser Byren struggling with himself, convincing himself not to come to his King's aid. He would not disobey a direct order, even if it led to the death of his King, that was their solemn vow.

Rygett smirked and lunged again, however he was not skilled with a greatsword of Ice's stature or weight, and so he threw it around long, allowing Edrick to easily duck and slash right across Rygett's chest. His armour was not as well forged as Edric's, but it managed to parry the blow. Yet Edric simply dropped his shortsword and charged into Rygett, pummeling the large man into the floor. Edric continuously smashed the mans face with his iron gauntlets, shredding the lips and nose apart as Rygett groaned in agony. Rygett managed to shove the King off, but the damage was already done, one of his eyes fell loose from the socket, kept connected only by a small red string.

"Yuh wuhl pah" he spat, words not properly forming in his disjointed and torn open mouth. Edric almost felt sorry for the man, and decided that he would put him out of such a misery. He picked up Ice as he backed away, kicking his shortsword behind him. Rygett pulled himself up and charged the King in a move many would have considered poor and misguided. Edric pulled Ice around and skewered the traitor, punching it right through the chest of Rygett. He quickly picked up his shortsword a moment later and returned to Rygett who was kept alive by the Gods as a punishment.

"I, King Edric of House Stark, King in the North and King of Winter, do hereby sentence you to die, traitor" he said, before quickly whirling the shortsword around and cleaving the mans head off in one quick blow. He dropped the sword and fell to his knees, his breathing heavy and fast. Ser Byren stood next to him, standing watch over his King. Around them the Bolton forces were being pushed back into the hills, Edric saw his sons Osric and Brandon leading a large part of their cavalry after the fleeing Boltons, cutting down as many as they could. Then he fell into a deep sleep, hearing his bodyguard shouting around him for items of comfort and a Maester.

---

Prince Harlon Stark 'the Iron Wolf'
Battle of the Barrows

---

"There they are sir, the armies of Beron Dustin, bloody traitor" said Lord Glover, Harlon's advisor and mentor. Harlon had been sent to live with the Glovers in his youth, and had learnt a great deal about strength and honour from them. He was a man Harlon trusted with his life, and that was a difficult thing to say after the Raid on Winterfell.

"Is Willam Dustin there?" asked Prince Harlon, eager to meet the man who raped his wife and broke his sacred vows in battle. He could not wait to bring his head back to Winterfell and present it to his wife, to let her know that the monster was gone. The body could be devoured by his direwolf, Mercy, a fearsome black beast with deep red eyes. Harlon had discovered him in the Wolfswood, and after a brief battle he had claimed the young pup as his own. Now they were inseperable, in battle, feasts and the direwolf even guarded his bedroom. Harlon was hoping to find a she-wolf, and breed some pups for his children and siblings. They could all use the protection that they offered.

"He is there, leading the Vanguard. Do you wish to engage him yourself my prince?" asked Lord Glover.

"I do, but I shall hang back with my bodyguard, wait for a weak point and strike at it. Lord Glover will be in command of the army, while Master Tallhart will lead the vanguard. Tallhart was a fearsome warrior and a good choice to lead the vanguard, though he wasn't as capable as a Mormont or Umber, he would have to do. Lord Glover and Master Tallhart moved off, taking their personal retinues with them. The army of 8000 northerners marched towards the smaller, but equally as fierce, army of 6000. Harlon remained upon the plains a few hundred metres away from where the battle would take place, keeping 750 northern cavalry with him.

"Their right flank is the weakest, I could lead 500 men in when the battle is underway and create a diversion. Enough for you and the remaining cavalry to engage Beron Dustin and his bodyguards" said Ser Ronard Lake, casually offering himself up as bait. It was said that Ser Ronard feared nothing but dishonouring himself, and that he would gladly give his life for his liege lords and friends. Harlon had befriended him over the course of the war, and hoped that he did not have to needlessly die.

"Beron is leading from their right flank, see" said Harlon, pointing out that the 'Barrow King' Beron had moved himself and his bodyguards near the frontline. "Willam is leading the vanguard, and he is the one I want to face. You take on Beron while I-" said the Prince, being cut short by a shout from a man close to him. He turned in anger in his saddle, annoyed at having being interrupted, but saw that cavalry was descending on them from both sides.

"Andrew Bolton on one side, and Theon Dustin on the other. What do we do?" asked Ser Ronard. There was no time for discussion, the surprise attack smashed into his cavalry with great effect, decimating those on the edges. Horses fell as spears glanced through their ribs, riders flew off and the screaming and shouting was unbearable.

"Find Andrew and kill him, I will kill Theon!" shouted Harlon, riding off towards the Dustin banner. He swung his sword, cleaving through a Dustin rider with ease, as he pushed his way on towards the heir to Barrowton. A small group of loyal soldiers followed him, helping him to clear a path, until he found Theon Dustin and his retainers near the back. The coward had not entered the fighting, and looked scared when he saw Prince Harlon. The stark cavalry smashed into the Dustin retainers, pushing them away. Theon bolted further into the battle into an attempt to escape the Iron Wolf, but it was to no avail. A spear caught his horse and he leapt off to safety before it crushed him.

Harlon reached the small empty area that Theon had retreated to, and dismounted. He was an honourable man and would not allow himself such an advantage in the fight. He drew his Valyrian Steel blade, Justice, and pulled off his helmet. It stifled his vision and would not treat him well in close combat. "Surrender now Theon, and I will spare your life" he said, truth to every word.

"Never!" shouted the 'Barrow Prince', who had grown angry at the death of his horse and the dishonourable way he had attempted to flee. He was strong, but not as skilled a fighter as Harlon. Several minutes later Harlon had him panting, a bloody scar running across his face and his left arm. Theon looked ready to surrender until an evil and crooked voice interrupted the fight.

"Prince Harlon, your Wolf Brother was no match for me. I look forward to flaying you and wearing your skin over my armour" said Andrew Bolton, the most deranged son of Rees Bolton. He carried with him the bloodied head of Ser Ronard, grinning widely as he saw the look of horror on Harlon's face.

"I will take you both on, traitors, have at me!" he shouted, charging into both of the 'princes'. Indeed Prince Harlon was able to fight both at the same time, to the amazement of the Dustin, Bolton and Stark troops who managed to glimpse the fight. His sword flew as fast as lightning as he parried almost every hit, the others missing or glancing off of his tired yet ornate armour. Gasps were heard as he plunged his sword into the belly of Theon Dustin, causing the young man to whimper as it was withdrawn. He fell to the floor, twitching and moaning but refusing to die.

"Hmm, didn't like him anyway" said Andrew Bolton, resuming the duel. They fought for what seemed like hours, though in reality it was a short few minutes. Andrew fought with both sword and axe, but was unable to land any blows upon the prince. It did not take long before his sword was cleft in two by Justice. He took advantage of this and pummeled Harlon to the floor, intending to behead the Iron Wolf with a quick strike. His plan was cut short by Mercy. The great beast hurled itself onto the Bolton and began ripping away, his screams could be heard for miles as his ribcage was opened and his heart devoured.

Harlon rose slowly, uninjured but very shaken by the fight. He noticed that Theon had died of his wound, which was unfortunate. Harlon had been hoping to take him prisoner, but it seemed that he had gotten carried away in the heat of the fight and had gutted the poor man. He did not even noticed Lord Glover riding towards him.

"My Prince! They simply retreated before our army could reach them. I'm not sure-" he said, before realising that the battle had been a ruse. They had attempted a surprise attack to slay Harlon and his bodyguard, then attack his army from both sides. It had failed dismally, but the Dustin army had escaped. The remaining Dustin outriders who had taken part of the ambush had surrendered, though most of the Bolton men continued fighting on as the infantry arrived to cut them down. Most of Harlon's bodyguard had been slain, as had his protector Ser Ronard.

"Iron Wolf! Iron Wolf! Iron Wolf!" his men chanted as they saw those slain before him. Yet Harlon only felt a mixture of anger and sadness. He had slain two boys that day, seen one of his close friends beheaded and failed to kill the man who had raped his wife. While others might have claimed a victory, he claimed a sullen defeat.

---

Prince Edwyn Stark 'the Black Wolf'
Winterfell

---

Edwyn sat upon his father's throne, having been named Regent in his absence. Few disagreed with the choice, Edwyn was a responsible man who most agreed resembled his father in looks and personality the most. This of course left him sullen with a grim personality, only made worse by the death of his brother. He and Jon had been close, both had made plans to visit the Free Cities, the Southern Kingdoms and other places to make names for themselves. That dream had died with Jon, and Edwyn now wished to shut himself away from the world.

"Something troubles you?" said Raya, his sister who he had defended during the Raid on Winterfell. It had not been easy, and he had gained a nasty scar on his torso as his reward, but he held it as a trophy for his good deed.

"Something always troubles me" replied Edwyn, his mood growing darker with every passing day. Truly life was meaningless when such cruelty could occur on a grand scale. Winterfell had been rebuilt, but the scars would never fade, at least not for Edwyn. His father and brothers could heal those scars with the blood of their enemies, but for Edwyn they would pain him forever. Jon had been the better warrior, the happier son, the charming diplomat and the beloved son of the North. It would have been better if he had died instead, and Jon still lived.

"Jon's death still bothers you, I know that face, it is the one that I try my best to hide" said Alessa Stark, his mother, who had unexpectedly arrived in the near empty Throne Room. She wore a simple diadem and a dark grey dress. On the outside she seemed to be like stone, unaffected by the death of her son and the kidnapping of her daughter, yet Edwyn and the rest of the castle had heard her endless sobbing during the nights. There was only so much a person could take, even one as strong as his mother.

"It always will bother me. Not even the deaths of every Bolton and Dustin will sate my anger, nor diminish my eternal sorrow" he replied, slinking back further into the throne. He wore dark robes, always black, always constantly in mourning for his brother. It had earnt him his nickname, one that he wore with a certain pride. "Once father returns I will go into exile, visit the cities to the south and across the Narrow Sea. I will live Jon's dream, perhaps that will end this eternal misery" he said, earning saddened looks from his sister and mother.

"I will miss you when you go" said Raya, giving her brother an affectionate look.

"I will not stop you, and neither will Edric I think. If that is what you wish, then I wish you well" said Alessa, taking a seat next to her son. For a few minutes they all sat there in silence, contemplating the future and dwelling on the past.

---

Ser Lars Umber
Last Hearth

---

Ser Lars made his way into the hall, out of the biting cold outside. Inside he found his father, Lord Mors 'Giantbreaker' Umber, a giant of a man who had earnt his reputation well. Lars had unfortunately been named after his uncle, the Lars Umber 'the Red Giant', bloody traitor, which had led to some confusion when he tried to enter. The idiot guards had thought that he was the Red Giant and tried to arrest them, before his younger brother pulled them off and had one of them beaten for their insolence.

"My son, it has been too long!" shouted Mors, rushing forward and giving his son a warm and hearty hug. He was a fearsome man, but he loved his family and was not afraid to show affection to them. Of course he only had hate for his own brother now, but he had no wish to fight or kill him. Being a kinslayer in the North was a big thing, something to be frowned upon and detested.

"It has father, but I am here now. Together we can defeat my uncle and put him in chains for his Grace to decide" said Ser Lars, his unquestioning loyalty to the Starks showing through.

"Excellent, excellent! Come sit, have some supper. Then we will talk about our battle plans. Lars has moved his forces to Karhold, after failing to conquer Last Hearth. Most of my men are aiding the Hill Clansmen still loyal to the Starks, but with some of our forces added to the Karstark forces we should be able to take on the traitor" said Mors enthusiastically. The two sat down and enjoyed supper together, with several of Lars's brothers arriving. It felt good to be home, even for a short while, even if the circumstances were dire.

[Volantenestan]

Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis
Triarchal Palace, Old Volantis

Lys, Myr, Tyrosh, Braavos, Pentos, Norvos, Qohor, Lorath. Belicho looked out over the vast city of Volantis, from the solar of his palace They call themselves daughters of Valyria, they are wrong. There is only one true daughter of the Freehold and that is Volantis! All other cities pale in comparison to Volantis, we are the richest, largest most powerful, by rights the old empire should be ours! Belicho looked towards the ships in Volants's vast natural harbour, formed where the Rhoyne met the Summer Sea , its blue water sparkling hypnotically and white caps dancing like a thousand spear points in the sun. His thoughts turned back to recreating the Freehold and he laughed. If only. One day it might be possible but now it could be disastrous for Volantis, if we are ever to dream of recreating the Freehold we need allies as well as enemies.

Just as he was thinking this a slave with a green hand tattooed on his face (to symbolise a domestic slave) came. In his hand he held a silver tray, on top of which rested a bowl of Elyrian vinegar and oil from Selhorys. Next to the bowl lay small circles of goat’s cheese from Tolos and slices of bread from Volon Therys. The serving slave bowed and placed the platter on the small wooded table next to Belicho. Belicho smiled and waved the slave away, he loved this small snack. His farther used to make it for him, not his father’s slaves or cooks, his farther and every time the sweet Elyrian source filled his mouth he remembered his farther.

As he finished eating the bread and cheese he heard the distinctive clank of armour outside his room, which either meant one of his guards, had something to report or his son was coming. The door opened without a knock, meaning it was is son. Belicho turned and smiled at his son. Simone bowed and kissed his father’s emerald ring.

"Farther” he said his gleaming scale armour clicking as he rose. Simone always wore at least a scale tunic, he was always worried he or his loved ones would be attacked. This fear stemmed from his mother’s untimely death. Belicho believed Alexandra had died of natural causes, however many, including Simone thought she had been poisoned by a rival family. ”You look troubled farther, what is one your mind?” inquired the son. Belicho looked back out to sea where a green hulled war galley was drawing out of port, going out to petrol the Summer Sea for Pirates, he turned back to his son and smiled ”Many things, your mother, your sisters, your grandfather, a Volantene empire”

Simone smiled and sat in a chair opposite his farther “Triarch Olivar believes we should launch our fleet against Lys at the earliest opportunity and the Consul of Valysar thinks we should march on Myr at ones”. The pair looked at each other and laughed "And they are both fools” Belicho picked up the valyrian steel dagger at his side and twirled it around his fingers "Volantis is the richest, largest and most powerful Free City but we are not powerful enough to go to war with Lys or Myr yet, certainly not and offensive war. We need more allies first. My farther and grandfather went to great pains to secure allies in Valyria and now we have Tyrosh as an ally, and Tyrosh is a good, strong ally. With Tyrosh we could take Myr or Lys but at enormous cost, Lys is an island and would be very hard to besiege. Myr would be easier to take but we would still lose a lot of men, they have Dragons. My fellow Triarch’s and Consul’s should remember that. However at some point war will come and we will need more allies to destroy our primary enemy. Lys is the only hostile power in the region that could match us, that leaves a very obvious choice for a third ally does it not?”

Simone looked out of the window; he could hear his twenty year old sister laughing outside “Myr”

Belicho stood up and went over the balcony, he looked down to where his stunningly beautiful daughter, Claudia was getting out of a litter in the court yard. “Exactly and how does one get allies these days? Through marriage”

[Diliath]

Syriphos Rogare, the Opposing, Lys

"....and you'll never leave the palace alive again. No it is not ging to work that way we need another solution." Syriphos looked out of the window and ignored the talking behind him. The room was filled with a group of nobes that were seeking ways to remove the Eltaenon's from power. Syriphos shook his head, if Galaerion would return would these meek palace nobles forget all their plans and would they bow for Galaerion again. The murdering of Galaerion was going to be a true problem as the man could not be poisened and every attempt of killing him with a weapon would be halted by Galaerion's guards, dragon or by Galaerion himself. Syriphos could not find anyway to removethe Eltaenon's as they were getting more popular every day. Suddenly heard Syriphos the sound of a bowing horn from the harbour. Some other nobles heard it too and looked at Syriphos who had quickly risen up and who was now walking out of the house. ""What's going on?" "What should we do?" "Are we under attack?" asked the nobles that now followed the almost running Syriphos, whose head was darkened as he knew that the horn was bad as it was either Galaerion returning or an attack on the city. As soon as he reached the walls did he see them full with people and soldiers. He managed to push himself trough everything until he stood before the parapet. He saw horrifying how the sea was filled with dozens of sails, all bearing the Eltaenon weapon. Dromonds and big war galleys closed in on the city and a great cheering started at the walls. Galaerion's army was returning. While the ships were getting closer and city kept the people cheering but Syriphos noticed something that no one else did. He could not see the dragons. Like they appeared on command could two dots be seen in the sky. A quarter later, when the first ships sailed into the harbour, reached the dragons the city. The people were now cheering even harder, if that was possible. Then something happened what nobody accepted, the dragons started to whirl in circles and their claws grabbed and released eachother. In the golden light of the sun could the man and woman upon the dragons be seen, their white armour shining in the sun. A true spectacle started above the city with the dragons swirling around the three towers of the tears and the towers of the ciadel. Man could see the scales reflecting the light of the sun and man could see the mighty dragon bodies showing their full strength and speed. Sometimes did the dragons even breath bg floods of fire up into the air. The city could enjoy the spectacle for half and hour and the citizens streamed from their houses to see the dragons. Only a few did not cheer and Syriphos was among them. These few saw the true reason that Galaerion gave the spectacle. The tension with the other cities was growing and Galaerion wanted the whole city as one man behind him and for that was his popularity needing another boost that was now given. When the dragons finally flew away to Serullar walked Syriphos back to his home with a darkened face. He knew that something needed to happen as it seemed that soon nothing in the world would be able to bring Galaerion from his position.

Galaerion Eltaenon, king of tears, Serullar

Galaerion had bathed after his dragonride earlier that day. He was sure that he had received the love of his population even more. He was now sitting behind his desk while watching the map of the free Cities on the wall. The small cities of Katosh and Utar-Machoch had been conquered and sacked. Many other small cities and towns on the mainland had been defeated. The campaign had went well but he had only fought some petty realms until now. Volantis, Myr and Tyrosh were no petty realms and all were a dager to Lys, especially Volantis. Volantis had expanded since the doom and Galaerion felt the eyes of the city lurking westwards. Now the city had united behind the Maegyr family tht considered Volantis only heir of Valyria was it being a threat that was actually able to defeat Lys. He had rumours that told about an alliance between Tyrosh and Volantis but Galaerion could hardly believe that. He could also not put his full power against Volantis as Myr and Tyrosh also form big threats. Galaerion sighed, he was in a more difficult position than ever before. If Volantis and maybe its allies showed too strong would Galaerion mayb accept surrender without battle. He would keep his soldiers ready and he would wait for the crumbling of Volantis after that, but for now was he not sure what to do. Everything depended on what Volantis would do. He knew as a straegist that it was better to act than to react but it seemed impossible for him to act now. He first needed to know the power and possible the alliances of the other cities. Galaeron rose from his chair, he had sent Tylrean and Morenia to Westeros to seek alliances there and he could not do anything than waiting without further information. Lys was ready for an attack and all acting orders had been given, Lys could miss him for a few houres, with these toughts did he walk away to the central hall were his family was awaiting him. He would be with them now as e felt he wouldn't be a lot with them in the coming time.

Morenia Eltaenon, the Red, Plankytown

Morenia was happy when she and her escort set finally foot on land again after the joirney to Plankytown. 16 of her 60 Red guards left the Dromon with which she had made the journey. The dornish sun was a hot one and she decided that she wanted to reach Sunspear as fast as possible. The Martell guards in the town saw who she was and that she was bringing the possibility of new alliances for the Martells was she escorted by them to Sunspear. She was impressed by the Red desert that was everywhere around them beside the road. She now understood that she was wearing too much clothes and she started to sweat in the hot sun. After what seemed like eternity did Morenia and her escort saw Sunspear rising before them. Again was she impressed by Dorne as Sunspear was an exotic and beautiful place in the center of nothing. When they'd arrived did she decide, after she'd freshed herself up, to ask directly for an audience and she went inside the palace to wait and see wether she would get it already.

Tylrean Eltaenon, the magnificent, White harbor

Tylrean, or that was his current name, watched the coast growing from a line into a city. His ships had crossed the Bite without being noticed but now did he see much movement in the city and he smiled as the people in the city would propably think they were pirates. He remembered that the barbarians in a place called the Fingers had told him that there was civil war in the North and he had been informed that there was a big city in this bay called White harbor. It was one of the biggest cities in the North but for Tylrean, who had seen for example Valyria, Meereen, Astapor, Lys, Volantis, Braavos and Qarth was it not more than a regional town. When his 7 dromonds approached the city was the harbour chain rised and Galaerion ordered his men to board the ships on the western side of the bay. While his men boarded and started to build their basic defences and encampment in case of a barbarian attack, sent Tylrean a messenger to White Harbor to informthe local lord of his peaceful intentions and he would also invite the local lord to the encampment to discuss further relations. While Tylrean walked to his own tent that was just being set up did he notice his pupils, Jaerelos Lohar and Sallyrio Ormollen and smiled when he saw that they still had to get used to the cold climate of the North like many others as they looked pale and freezed. He ordered them to come and sat down to give them some teachings in the time before the local lord or word about him would reach the camp, in the meanwhile were White Guards and legionaries posed on the side of the camp to receive the lord of White Harbor in full ornate and to protect the camp if necessary.

[House Tula]

Valar Tula, Shipbuilding Yard of Hull, 1 Year After the Doom...

"-as you can see m'lord these twenty new Carracks you've ordered will expand House Tula's power to beyond the coasts of Westeros and out into the seas. They'll be perfect as both warships and trade-ships depending on what you wish to do with them m'lord." The Chief Engineer explained to Valar as he strode through the shipbuilding yard.

Valar's father had approved the construction of these new ships, seeing the wisdom in expanding House Tula's reach of the seas, these large beasts would be expensive and take time to build but Valar knew he had quite a bit of both to use on the Navy which was House Tula's lifeblood.

"As warships, how would I best use them? As over sized rams I'm guessing, judging by how large the frames are I'd guess these things could roll a War Galley or Dromond upside down with a good hit." Valar asked as he took interest in the ship closest to completion but still months away.

"Eh, no, m'lord. I'm afraid that even the largest Dromond is capable of escaping a ramming action by any one of these ships. They most certainly could cause damage in a ram but the likelihood of success is minimal I'm afraid." The Engineer explained.

At that Valar turned to look at the man and asked "You're from Braavos right? They have only the best shipbuilders there, correct?"

"Yes m'lord, that is correct." The Engineer answered cautiously.

"Then what in the Gods' names is the use of a ship that can't ram?" Valar asked pointedly.

The Engineer motioned him over to a nearby table with a diagram of the Carrack and explained "M'lord, most Galleys and Dromonds only have the range that crossbowmen and longbowmen can offer them with the largest such ships having perhaps one ballista. However the Carrack has two ballista, one on the fore and one of the rear of the ship, furthermore there are half a dozen scorpions on both sides of the ship which allow for a new and unique type of warfare. I call it broadsides."

"Broadsides?" Valar asked quizzically.

"Yes m'lord, say an enemy Galley is coming in for a ramming attack, the Carrack turns its broadside to the galley and now not only are two ballista able to target the Galley but so too are six scorpions. Depending on the ammunition you're using you could burn the enemy ship, punch holes into it so it sinks, or pick off the crew and force their surrender...and that is not counting the crossbowmen and longbowmen that you could also have on the ship. As you can see m'lord the Carrack can destroy it's enemy before they can even get close if used correctly, it would be most useful with several escorting galleys to protect from boarding attacks, m'lord." The Engineer explained.

"I was wrong, you are worth the coin. My apologies for doubting you, if construction goes smoothly perhaps we'll have to keep you around as a hired adviser for our Navy. Valar replied, however before the Engineer could reply an arrow came out of no where and landed in between Valar's feet.

Looking down at the offending object Valar looked back up and did not like what he saw coming down the road from the city of Hull. According to the bells ringing around the Shipyard neither did the Shipyard's guards. What looked like a small army of angry peasants were charging towards the Shipyard, the guards of House Tula getting into position to repel the lightly armed and armored peasant rebels.

"Defend the Shipyard! Courage and Steel!" Valar commanded as he moved to the guards and drew his sword.

Rhaegar Tula, Driftmark Castle, 1 Year After the Doom...

Rhaegar looked up from his book and watched as his dragon, Bloodfyre, ate happily at the burnt carcass of a fat cattle. The majestic beast was content with itself as it tore at the flesh of it's dead meal, the beast was pure black, as dark as a raven, except for it's blood-red eyes which occasionally flickered back to Rhaegar. The she-dragon and Rhaegar had a deep connection with each other and Rhaegar knew that Bloodfyre was worried over her rider's health ever since Rhaegar's mother had died last month. Rhaegar could admit that he hadn't been in the best of moods, perhaps he was indeed depressed, but he also knew that his family had to come first and his own concerns could not get in the way. As he thought of this Bloodfyre took the few steps needed to approach Rhaegar before she began nudging her head against his forehead, Rhaegar appreciated the gesture as the two of them stayed like that for a few moments before Bloodfyre went back to eating.

Rhaegar looked back to his book then, 'A History of Dorne', written in that language the Westerosi called Common. A language Rhaegar knew he'd have to get used to soon like his father and younger brother who dealt on a regular basis with merchants who spoke only that and not High Valyrian. While Rhaegar thought he had most of it he didn't doubt that he had some parts of the ugly tongue to work on.

"Rhaegar! Rhaegar, there you are! You must get armored Rhaegar and ride for Hull at once!" Maemon Tula called out as he ran to Rhaegar.

"Father? What is going on? Are we under attack?" Rhaegar questioned as he jumped up with urgency.

"You're brother was inspecting the new ships at Hull, however a raven was just received that they're under attack, I've sent a raven to the Targaryens, they'll aid us in putting down this new insurrection. However we need to make sure your brother and the ships survive this attack, the Targaryens could take some time to arrive so I need you to fly out to Hull and do what you can while I march the troops out of here and to Hull. Go, now!" Maemon ordered.

Rhaegar moved swiftly to his chambers, his squire already there to help put on his plate and chain, grabbing the family Valyrian steel sword Faithsealer Rhaegar ran back to Bloodfyre and quickly mounted her before turning her for Hull in the air. As they flew towards their destination Rhaegar noted the threatening storm clouds coming in from the sea flashes of lightning and streaming rains visible from Rhaegar's position promising a miserable fight ahead.

[The House of Gardener]

Mern of the House Gardener, the Tenth of his Name, King of The Mander and the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches and High Marshal of the Reach

It was the day of coronation, the day he would be crowned as the King. He was in Oldtown at the Starry Sept, ready to be proclaimed King by the High Septon. A crown of vines and flowers would soon be placed upon his head. "By the Father, do you swear to be a just king, and that your mind will never be clouded in making judgement?" The High Septon asked. It was what Mern had to go through. "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the Father I do so swear." He replied.

"Do you swear upon the Mother to protect the mothers of this land and their children, and show mercy upon those who have wronged within reason?" "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the Mother I do so swear."

"Do you swear upon the Warrior that your blade will be kept sharp, and that you shall have courage enough that your foes may not stand before you?" "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the warrior I do so swear."

"Do you swear upon the Maiden that no young girls, innocent and unspoiled shall be protected?" "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the Maiden I do so swear."

"Do you swear upon the Smith that the craftsmen will have your blessing given to them to make the swords for your soldiers, their armor and their clothes?" "I swear upon my life that I shall, In the name of the Smith I do so swear."

"Do you swear upon the Crone that your wisdom shall forever be sharp, and that your wits shall not leave you?" "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the Crone I do so swear."

The next bit had the crowd holding it's breath. "Do you swear that your enemies shall fall to the Stranger, so that he may never need to turn his eye upon you?" "I swear upon mine life that I shall, in the name of the Stranger I do so swear."

"Then let it be proclaimed." The High Septon said. "Let your servant Mern be blessed by you, the mighty Seven who are One, let it be proclaimed from this day forth that your servant Mern Gardener be known as Mern of the House Gardener, the Tenth of his Name, King of The Mander and the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches and High Marshal of the Reach!" The crowd cheared as Mern was annointed in the holy seven oils, and as he walked out the Starry Sept the crowd cheared. And Mern smiled.

[Alotopia]

Prince Oyhs Martell
Vulture's Roost

"Brother!" Oyhs said as he hugged his brother Aegisys, "Good to see you! Shall we walk to the nest?"

While Oyhs wasn't surprised to see his brother, as he was told an hour ago about how a Martell was making his way up the mountain, he was surprised that he was not in Sunspear. Aegisys was supposed to govern Dorne while Oyhs was here doing whatever he does...

"Why are you here?" Oyhs asked as the made their way to the tallest tower in the castle. The Vulture's Nest, as it was called, allowed Oyhs to view most the Marches and also a couple of Stormland Castles as Well. Although he was too far away To see people, he could see dust...

"I was on my way to visit the Castle we are building in the Prince's Pass. I thought I would drop in and see the castle... You have done an excellent job decorating. How womanly. " he jested, insulting his brother was often frowned upon, but the steps to the Nest were generally deserted. Only useful in siege.

"Ha ha. Very funny. You are indeed the jester our mother was!" He laughed...

"If I may ask my Prince, what were those maps for in your planning room?" Asked Aegisys, he was not privy to most information, bhthe asked anyway.

"Oh, those? I enjoy looking at maps of Dorne, it's nice to know where people are from. However, most recently we have seen a rise in raider activity so we trying to guess where they are..."

Sunspear, Dorne

An obvious royal walked into the Palace of the Martells... While this was not the seat of their government, as most of the actual ruling comes from the Prince's Castle, most foreigners assume it is so this is where they automatically go.

A government official was actually in the Palace today however. it was very hot inside the Prince's Castle and they had moved court insider much cooler Palace. He was adorned with fine Dornish linens and looked the parted a Dornishman too.

He approached the woman's asked, "My lady, I believe you asked for an audience? I am glad they sent you to the right place for today! I am Lord Oberyn Yronwood, the Bloodroyal and Warden of the Stone Way. I am sorry to say that I'm the closest you will get to a Martell during your visit. Prince Oyhs and his brother are not in Sunspear and will not be back for some time. However, I can talk to you about whatever you need."

[Volantenestan]

Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis
Plaza of Empires
Anniversary of the Siege of Sar Mell

Under the blinding sun of Essos, Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis stood on a raised platform wooden on the roof the barracks of the Tiger Cloaks on the southern side of the vast Plaza of Empires. beside him stood his son Simone and his daughter Lucrezia, called Lucia, both wearing polished. His other daughter, Claudia was in the Palace, preparing for a long journey she would soon make. From the high position atop the barracks, Belicho could look over the great city of Volantis. Split in two by the mighty Rhoyne River; the western side of the city was open to foreigners, traders and merchants and was one of the financial hubs of Essos. Even from this war away he could hear the shouts of merchants trying to draw customers and the bellow of elephants with Howdah's one their backs, moving the rich of Volantis around the city.

The eastern side where Belicho was standing was quieter, grander and more orderly than the morass of houses on the western bank. Behind the barracks rose the inner city, an impregnable citadel for the rich, protected an imposing 200-foot-tall Black Walls, so wide you could ride six chariots abreast around it. To the south lay the huge crescent shaped Great Port, so deep and wide it could fit all the islands of Braavos in it.

This port was the key to the city’s, and Belicho’s vast wealth. The waters of the Great Port changed colour as it drew further and further from the mouth of the Rhoyne. Where the Rhoyne met the Summer Sea, the water was the colour of mud and clay. The mud came from the swamps of the Volanea, east of Volantis and the clay came from the Hills of Norvos where the river Noyne met the Rhoyne, however as you went further out, the waters changed, eventually become a brilliant turquoise . Out in the harbour lay hundreds, if not thousands of ships. They ranged from white coloured slave galleys from Astapor and Meereen to black war galleys out of New Ghis, resupplying in Volantis while scouring the sea for Pirates. Carracks from Lorath could be spotted as well as a couple of huge, slow treasure Junks from Yi-Ti, their distinctive fan like sails wafting in the wind as the left the Great Harbour.

To the east of the Great Harbour lay a smaller, more sheltered dock yard, protected by a fortress on an island in the mouth of the harbour. This area was known as the Triarch's Harbour and was where Volantis’s 350 strong war fleet docked when not on patrol of pirates. Many of these warships lined the edges of the Triarch' Harbour, their green painted hulls bobbing up and down in the water. Volantis, like most of the mercantile Free Cities (except Lorath) had four types of war oared vessel and they could all be seen in the harbour today. Volantis had sixteen huge Galleasses, the largest type of war vessel, equipped with a ram or boarding ramp and many ballistae and scorpions. After the Galleasses came the Dromons, armed with rams capable of splitting all other warships in two. The mainstay of the Volantene fleet was made of heavy and regular war galleys. These ships were fast, agile and easy to make. Unlike Galleasses or Dromon's, they did not carry many scorpions or ballistae, instead their main power lay in speed, the crew of heavily armed marines and their protruding rams.

A horn sounded in the plaza below which drew Belicho’s gaze from the view. Drums sounded and out of “Great Valyria Boulevard” marched thousands of armoured men. The first soldiers to pass were the Tiger Cloaks slave infantry. They were called were a curios sight even to those who had grown up around them. They were slave soldiers, but happy to serve the city, and proud of their martial prowess. They had green tiger stripes adorned their cheeks, of which they were fiercely protective. They wore helms fashioned to appear like tiger heads and steel claws jutted from their gauntlets. From the shoulders green and black cloaks rippled down their backs. On their left arm they carried circular wooden shields, decorated with the image of a tiger, open mouthed and roaring. In their right they clasped eight foot long spears, tips shining and shimmering in the sun. Their torsos were covered in polished chaimail armour with reinforced steel plates, their lower legs encased in steal grieves.

After the slave Tiger Cloaks infantry came another type of foot soldier, the Son’s of Valyria. This unit, only created two years ago, was made up of 15,000 Freemen divided in to 3 legions. Freemen were people who were not citizens or slaves. They volunteered of service and fought for Volantis in 10 year period (with leave every year). The Son’s fought for a variety of reasons. Some to serve their city, some at the opportunity to win fame and get rich and powerful by becoming a General of Colonel, most fought and died simply for money. The pay was good and if the legions conquered land, they got a portion of it to keep for themselves, this combined with loot from sacked cities made the joining the Son’s of Valyria a good prospect for poor Freemen.

As the Son’s marched passed Belicho looked at their armour, he had helped create the new Volantene army, alongside his son, daughter and various generals, and was pleased with how they looked. He had commanded them at Sar Mell and new how well the preformed on the battle field. The first soldiers to march past Belicho wore very different armour and carried very different weapons from the Tiger Cloaks. Whereas the aim of the Tiger Cloak phalanx was to hold the enemy in position and provide a solid backbone of the army, the Son’s had a different task, to flank the enemy and manoeuvre to exploit his weak points and were thus armed differently.

On their left arms they carried round wooden shield, covered in a layer of steel. These shields were slightly smaller than the Tiger’s shields and thus enabled the wears to manoeuvre more easily. On their heads they wore pointed Cicak helmets, made from one piece metal the helmet had neck, ear and nose protection while leaving the face uncovered so the wearer could find threats and counter them as well as keeping him at a more comfortable temperature than a full faced great helm. The helmet also had a protruding peak to protect the face from downwards thrusts. The soldiers carried Kilij swords. The Kilij is a slightly curved scimitar with a sharp point and single edge making it ideal for slashing and better at stabbing than scimitars or arakh’s. They are also equipped with daggers to use in case they lose their swords. The Son’s however do where the same chainmail armour as the Tiger’s and the Dragon’s Children cavalry as well.

After the infantry came the Son’s of Valyria archer crops. These archers did not carry shields or wield swords. Instead they carried two meter long Longbows. These bows made of yew wood were extremely deadly in the hands of a skilled archer. They could fire arrows at a rate of 10 per minute at a distance 326 meters, however they did take a long time to master so the old governors of Volantis in the times of Valyria encouraged archery competitions among low born subjects and rewarded winners with large prizes, a practise which still goes on under Belicho.

Behind the archers came the last unit, the Dragon’s Children cavalry. This unit of 12,000 men was made up of rich freemen and citizens. As most of the people in the unit are the sons of wealthy families, most of them are not in the army for money or plunder (however that is of cause a bonus), instead many of them fight for the chance to gain fame and advance the honour of their families. Belicho recently began a campaign of glorifying the Dragon’s Children to make it appeal to the second or third sons of rich families who are less likely to get a huge inheritance.

They and their horses were heavily armed and armoured and as they trotted past, they glittered in the sun. On their heads they wore a more ornate version the Cicak helmet of the infantry and they wore the same reinforced chainmail and plate armour which allowed great movement and flexibility, crucial when fighting against infantry at close quarter of fighting off barbarian raiders. Over their backs were slung infantry shields which they could use if they had to dismount, for example during sieges. In their hands they clasped Kilij which rested on their armoured shoulders and glittered in the sun. At their hips lay to weapons unique to the Dragon’s Children, a heavy mace to crush bones and armour and a composite bow. This small bow was small enough to use on horseback but thanks to the compound of horn wood it was almost as powerful as a crossbow.

Finally all the legions of the garrison had passed and Belicho, the generals, his son and second daughter made their way back to the Triarchal palace atop elephants, or carried by slaves or on horseback.

---

Helmet
Shield
Kilij sword
Basic Heavy cavalry armour

[Diliath]

Galaerion Eltaenon, Great temple of R'hllor, Lys
Day of the dead of the High Priest, 1 AD

The bells sounded and the feet of thousads could be heared, priests, citizens, lightsworn and nobles sttod closely packed around and in the giant temple complex of R'hllor. The High priest lay on a bier while priests and priestesses were singing their prayers and hymnes. In the middle of the mass of people was a broad, cear road. White guards, 500 in total, were slowly moving over it towards the Great Temple itself, they carried candles instead of lances in their hands. This indicated the arrival of King Galaerion. The mass of people was exceptionally silent and man could hear the stepping of the white guard's white horses on the road. When Galaerion finally entered the complex half and hour after his first white guard kneeled all nobles and citizens to the ground, only their heads were still looking up. Only the lightsworn and priests were still standing as they only bowed to the High priest. Galaerion showed to the bier and looked around on his way. He was as calm as possible and nothing showed his inner rage that mourned the death of his friend and ally. When he arrived at the bier, he dismounted and at that moment stepped hundreds of Red priests and priestesses forward from the shadows of the temple. And soon appeared groups of lightsworn amongst them, their golden scale armor shining in the light of the candles and fires that burned everywhere around the temple. Galaerion bowed over the bier and closed the High priest's eyes. His head was full of grief about his friend's death and rage about the Volantene bastards that had murdered him. Slowly turned Galaerion aroud to the masses and he all could see a single tear leaving his eye. Galaerion felt the warm tear rolling over his cheek but ignored it. The masses however had never seen a sign of grief or sadness in their leader's eyes and were all suprised. Galaerion started to talk with a soft and calm voice:"People of Lys, your high priest, Anarro Maar, Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom, First servant of the Lord of Light is dead. Mourn him, as you'll never find such a protecter of the poor, the faith, the city and the Freehold again. And mourn his needless dead by Volantene hands. And fear not as I will avenge our spiritual father. Volantis will pay for their sins. Let the lord of Light protect Anarro's soul and let him guide our steps with firm hand now our leading light has fallen away. Because the night is dark and full of terrors." Galaerion stopped talking and his last sentence was repeated by all. At that moment stepped an older Red priests forward and indicated Galaerion to stay on his position. Galaerion slightly frowned, until he understood what was happening, and before he could protest proclaimed the priest with loud but respectful voice:"In his last huor on this world has Anarro brought forward a candidate to be his successor as usual. He has recommended us Galaerion Eltaenon, king of the tear. After a few hours of long talking and deep thinking and after consulting the flames has the Red Council of R'hllor agreed with former High Priest Anarro and have we chosen Galaerion Eltaenon as new High Priest, Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom and First servant of the Lord of Light. Let him guide our steps to the light, let him guide our souls and let him be the new leader of the church of R'hllor." When the priest had finished his words returned the silent and everyone was suprised altough none could imagine Galaerion having influenced the priests or having killed the old High Priest. At that moment kneeled all priests, priestesses and lightsworn for their new high priest. Galaerion accepted his new title, thanked the priests of R'hllor and said a prayer. He was torn apart between happiness, because he was High Priest and sadness and rage, because he mourned his friends dead and because he wanted to take revenge at the Volantenes. After this did he enter the temple were was officially made High Priest. Here also offered the lightsworn and Red priests and priestesses their allegiance to him. It had happened he was High Priest now. While the masses went home and while he remained in the temple to ake trough the night. The next morning did he unburden oneself to his wife Rhaelle. That managed to temper his grief and anger. After that did Galaerion start to make plans to make Volantis answer for its crimes.

New flag of the Lightsworn and Galaerion's banner/sigil as High Priest

Morenia Eltaenon, Sunspear, Dorne

WIP

[Volantenestan]

Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis
Triarchal Palace, Old Volantis
Anniversary of the Siege of Sar Mell

Flames, endless flames

That is what Belicho thought as he walked through the corridors of his palace. One year ago today I killed 110,000 people. I ordered their city burned and the remains flooded. And these people force me to celebrate it. Belicho hated what he did at Sar Mell and he hated that his people celebrated it. However he new it had to be done and he new he would do it again willingly if he had to. Twp years ago Sar Mell had been the fourth richest city in the old empire, after Valyria, Oros and Voalntis. However it had risen in rebellion against Voalntis, so Belicho had been forced to utterly destroy them as he would do any city that threatened his people and his family. It was a foolish rebellion, the Blue Tiger of Sar Mell was no hero, he was a fool. he should have bent the knee like Valysar. He was interrupted in his thought by his eleven year old nephew, Octavio, the son of his brother Lorenca, the Grand Admiral, who said "Why is it the Tiger Cloaks have no cavalry or archers? The Son's are infantry and archers, the Children can act as all three if need, why not the Tigers?" He was about to answer but his daughter Lucia did it for him "We cannot let the Tiger have to much power dear nephew. If they became to strong they would have the power to overthrow us, that is why we keep them just as crack infantry with no archers or cavalry" . He smiled at this, his daughter Lucrezia was a warrior, she had her own valyrian steal spear and could beat any self respecting man in a dual. However she still loved her family, especially her young nephew.

The small party entered the great hall where the Triarchs received visitors. At one end stood three thrones, one mahogany, one teak and one ebony. Usually the three Triarchs would receive petitions together, however Triarch Olivar was visiting the fleet with Grand Admiral Lorenca Maegyr and Triarch Maximiums was in Selhorys, reviewing the defenses after the Consuls of Selhorys and Valysar stated he was worried about Essarian incursions (which was very unlikely). That did not matter for most would be petitioner though, only Triarch Belicho really mattered. He hoped their would be few petitioners today as he needed to go and see his first daughter Claudia off before her journey.

Belicho called forward the chief steward and asked "Any petitioners today Micheal?" , Belicho always used informal names with his close staff to create an air of friendship. The steward looked at a wax tablet and said "Yes sir, only one though" . Belicho smiled at this an told his many servants, slaves and guards to leave. His Lucia and Simone as well as his Chief Adviser Niccolò stayed however. Belicho reclined in to the central mahogany throne and waved for the doors to be opened. Two people walked forward, young man and women, in their twenties came forward. The man held a flute in his right hand and the women had her hands held in front of her chest. The two people bowed and went through the official greeting, then the women said "I beg you lord Triarch, her our song of you great victory. It is called, 'The King upon the Rhoyne' " . The man took up his flute and blew a melancholy tune. The women then began to sing.

"And who are you, the brave king said,
that I must bow so low?
Only a cat with a different coat,
that's all the truth I know.
A coat of black or a a coat of blue,
a tiger still has claws,
And mine are long and sharp, my lord,
as long and sharp as yours.
And so he spoke, and so he spoke,
that king upon the Rhoyne,
But now the fire consumes his halls,
with no one there to hear.
Yes now the river runs o'er his halls,
and not a soul to hear"

It will serve it purpose thought Belicho, he did not like the idea of glorifying the massacre himself but the song had a memorable tune and if promoted enough could become popular with the smallfolk and middlefolk. It would also serve the warn Volantis's enemies of what fate awaited those who tried to threaten her, that his why Belicho acted as he did, as a warning. When the song had finished he clapped, prompting the people around him to clap. "Very good" said Belicho smiling "You are obviously very talented. That is why I will reward you. You will get 22 KG of gold bullion, or the equivalent in silver. I will also write a personal recommendation for you. I want you to play this song in every merchants house, every inn, every ale house and every square in the city. I want it to reach Lys, Pentos even Dorne. " The musicians looked beyond pleased with his reaction as he wrote down a recommendation and sealed it. The pair then went from the Great Hall to collect their gold.

Claudia Maegyr, Beauty of Volantis
Gates of Volantis
Anniversary of the Siege of Sar Mell

Claudia Maegyr sat in silence with her farther in their Howdah. Below the elephant grumbled and the captain of their 30 strong company of guards shouted as something got in their way. In the Howday the pair looked at the gilded curtains around them and eat a selection of dates and grapes. Claudia was about to leave Volantis for the first time in ten years and was understandably quite nervous. Her destination was the Free City of Myr where she and a Volantene diplomat were headed to try and get more allies to counter the threats against Voalntis.

Th elephant went through a gate in to a courtyard and drew to a halt. A ladder was placed along its side and the Triarch and his daughter climbed down. They were in the Fort of Light, one of the many small forts which guarded Volantis's towering walls. The immensely thick gates out of Volantis slowly opened and Claudia looked her farther in the eye and the pair embraced. Both Belicho and Claudia shed tears as they embraced. Around them the huge company of guards stood stoically watching the scene. When they broke apart Belicho whispered to his daughter "I love you" she replied in kind before climbing in to the awaiting ornate carriage. As the carriage drew out of the gate alongside it's 300 strong guard of Dragon's Children heavy cavalry, Claudia continued to look Belicho in the eye and he waved a hand at her as she and her party moved further and further away. Belicho new she would be well protected by the elite heavy cavalry and within 3 weeks she should reach Myr.

[Argowry]

Sealord Aerello Maryr, Sealord's Palace, 1 AD

Aerello sipped his wine, seated comfortably on his cushioned chair in the council room, listening to his lead spy and courier,Jadiqos, rant on about The Fall of Valyria. He said,

"The Valyrian Freehold has fallen, but the children of Valyria and her dragons survive even now, The Families of the freehold were content with Braavos my lord, but what of their aspiring colonies? What if they and their dragons seek to take Braavos?"

Aerello finished a long draught of the wine, a sweet dornish imported from those lands in the south in Westeros, and said, "Hoepfully the Archons and Triarchs understand the importance in trade and innovation we are, and that they rely on the Iron Bank as well... If not..." Aerello patted a tome that sat to the side of the table, written in Valyrian, to which Aerello addressed "The Flame of Valyria. I have been studying into dragon lore, and the old ways of Valyria. Their conquering of Ghis, the colonization of the known world... wondrous tales, but truth is behind it as well, and the power of dragons are nothing to jape at, but perhaps the titan can work with a dragon's daughter?"

Vaerysha Maryr, Maryr E-state, 1 AD
Vaerysha laid across a couch along with her ladies in waiting, Vaerysha wearing a dark long and airy dress that exposed the upper part of her full bosom, a slash down her right side of the dress exposed her long pale leg, as they listened to a band of harp players and singers, to which her ladies in waiting swooned, cried, and sighed too, but not the beauty that was Vaerysha, she laid in her dark dress boredly, yawning occasionally or stirring the wine in her chalice. Once they had finished a plethora of songs, the daughter of the Sealord arose and said without empathy but in a smooth, purr,

"Finally you have finished your songs, thank you for your visit, Of course you expect pay and you will have it though meager, I expect better music than a harsh twang of your harps and cracking voices of your singers, but perhaps you could find me a singer who actually has some talent?"

She glanced off to the city and its gold, yellow, and red domes as another cloud of fog rolled in and turned back to the singers and waved them off saying in a purr, "I won't deny my guests stay however, You will have rooms for the night at the Maryr estate, however," Her piercing purple eyes shimmered as she looked at them, "If any man is caught late out of bed near my or one of my friends chambers, it will be your last sleep in the world of man."

Thoereo Maryr, Great Temple of R'hollor, Lys, 1 AD
Thoereo was near the back of the crowd while the people of Lys mourned at the Red Priests stepped out from the temple to announce thier chosen High Priest after the old one was murdered, Thoreo was leaning against the wall of one of the outskirt buildings to the courtyard of the temple, his dark blue and purple clothes contrasting to the bright colors around him, on his belt a dagger and a sword, similar to the fashion of a water dancer blade, but thicker and stronger to hold even the blows of a greatsword.

Thoreo thought to himself "What I wouldn't give to be in the arms of Orysha right now," Thoreo fantasizing of the whore at one of the high end pleasure houses Thoreo had visited in his stay in Lys, "I have studied the poisons, now I must meet the businessmen and this new High Priest I assume...and then one last farewell to Orysha..."

Later on Thoreo scheduled an appointment to meet the new High Priest, however he was told it would take a few days before that could occur, in the mean time, talk business with some merchants of Lys.

Adaros Maryr, House of Black and White, 1 AD
"Adaros Maryr no longer lives, you are but a servant of the Many-Faced God, Adaros is dead and gone, take up yourself as a man with no face..." The old man with the face of a skull had told him, and thus the boy pondered, "How am I supposed to leave my name, family, my entire existance behind, My love, my hate, my family....its impossible, it must be...or perhaps, the One with Many-Faces will show me the way."

[Diliath]

Morenia Eltaenon, Sunspear, Dorne

Morenia smiled to the man, bowed and said:"We certainly can, lord Yronwood. I consider you and your house as worthy as the Martell's." did she say while she tried to remember more of the Yronwood family from her lesson's. "I came here to talk about the relations between your principality and the kingdom of Lys. It seems that the fall of Valyria has caused trouble in the East." They now started walking inside the palace and she continued:"Lys is one of the strongest heirs of ld Valyria but it is closed in between allies. We see the Dornishmen as capable opponents if you would ever turn against us but also as valuable allies. Dorne can be a valuable ally when Lys invades the Stepstones and the Dornish cavalrymen are famous, mylord. We would be honoured with an alliance between our houses, altough we're in the lesser position of the two of us do we see that we can be valuable to you in later times. We're willing to offer things in return for an alliance. Marriage and money are among the things we currently have to offer. But before I rush trough everything, are you in anyway intrested in talks with Lys?"

Galaerion Eltaenon, The Towers of the Tears, three days after the High Priests Death.

Galaerion looked to the other people in the white room. Rhaelle, Ubald, Syrelos and Jaerelion to discuss the strategy that Galaerion had tought out in the past two days. "We have the fleet and army ready. They'll board here, at former Katosh." Glaerion pointed on the map that was laying before him. "We'll mainly use the army to put power behind our demands but if the triarchs refuse will we fight them." Syrelos seemed at the point of saying something but was cut off by Galaerion "Yes, I know we'll lose that. But we'll fall honourable, we take our revenge by weakening Volantis that much that they can never become the heir of Valyria and we maybe create mercy for the city. I won't step back, remember R'hllor is behind us and our cause. We can have the army ready to march in one day and the fleet will be ready to sail by then. I've battle tactics, demands and my words ready and our food supply is secured due to the food from the mainland and the imported food that'll be supplied from sea. It seemed everything is ready, any questions." Jaerelion smirked:"We propably don't get to hear your 'battle tactics, demands and words for the triarch's', father" "Only when the time for it has come." answered Galaerion. "You realize that we march a certain dead as soon as it comes to fighting." said Syrelos "You didn't doubt the three times you repelled the pirate invasions, did you?" was Galaerion's response "We both now this is different." "Yes, Syrelos, we do but that doesn't matter. I'll march and all loyal men will follow me, that's all. I'll see you later, this meeting is closed. Prepare yourselves well, you all join the campaign." With this words left Galaerion the room.

[Alotopia]

Lord Oberyn Yronwood

He listened to the Lady from across the Narrow Sea. She obviously wanted Dornishmen to die instead of her own men during war... "I see, my Lady. While I am the highest ranked Lord currently in Sunspear, Prince Oyhs will definitely have to sign off on any alliance between Lys and Dorne... However, I believe he would be interested in an alliance... I will be able to talk conditions and reasons for this sudden offer of alliance with your city-state, so i can send a raven to my Prince's retreat. It would be good to find out more about Lys and its current situation in the Region."

Lord Yronwood wanted to make it clear that Prince Oyhs would need to be present for any actual agreement. Oberyn was not one to enter into un-advantageous deals though. If he believed that Dorne was getting nothing, he was not a man to hide behind politeness. Essos is a dangerous place, and Dorne has no dragons... He must tread carefully...

Prince Oyhs Martell
Vulture's Roost

While raiders were a problem throughout the region, the raids had slowly died down and were very infrequent following an increase in the Dornish Military presence... But Aegisys didn't need to know that, this was a military retreat, why else would their be maps here?

"I see" said Aegisys as the reached the top of the tower, "It's a beautiful view up here, I can almost make out Nightsong in the distance..."

"Ah, Nightsong... The elusive prize... Attacked eight times, and has never fallen... It's annoying..." he laughed, Nightsong has been a guardian of the Marches for many years...

[Krugmar]

King Edric Stark 'the Weeping Wolf'
Dreadfort Siege Camp

---

The Dreadfort, a despicable place where too many good and honourable men had been tortured and killed. Edric knew the place too well, he remembered his own imprisonment here early on in the first rebellion. He and his two brothers, Jonos and Jorah, had been sent to negotiate with Royce Bolton after he offered terms. Instead he had captured them, taken them back to the Dreadfort and tortured them. For Edric the torture had been to his spirit, he had been forced to watch as Royce personally flayed his beloved brothers alive. Their screams still haunted his every night, his inability to save them tortured him and tore at his sanity. Where once had been laughter came only screaming, crying and begs for mercy. None had been shown to them. None now would be shown to the Boltons or their bastard fort.

Royce Bolton had released him after that, cackling at how he thought he had broken him. He had been wrong, he had given Edric a heart of stone and a need for vengeance. Yet that vengeance had never been sated with Royce's head, which he took from him many years ago. Now he could finally sate the bloodlust and be at peace, he would put the entire North at peace. They had called him the Weeping Wolf, for all that he had lost, but now he wept only tears of blood.

"Sire, our scouts report that the majority of the Bolton host is inside the fort, around four thousand of them. The rest have scattered into the wind, likely abandoning them" said Ser Beron Harclay, his fearsome wolf helmet held in one hand with his other resting upon the hilt of his sword.

"We should assault the castle directly, batter down the gate and tear their forces to pieces" said Prince Brandon, gaining the approval of his twin Prince Osric.

"They hold Princess Mariah hostage, they might harm her or worse... if we try a direct assault" said Ser Samn Tallhart. For his bravery shown in the battle he had replaced Ser Wyman Manderly, the gallant knight had fallen to Ramsay Bolton in single combat. Samn had defeated Ramsay and taken him hostage, but was unable to save Wyman who died of his wounds later that night.

"That filthy traitor, Domeric Bolton, has already repeatedly raped and beaten my beloved daughter. I will not sit here for a few months while he flays her, tortures her and finally kills her. We storm the castle, cut down every last Bolton we see. The Dreadfort will stand no more" announced Edric. None of his companions disagreed, few had reason to and all knew that his word was the law.

"Sire, if I may be so bold, I will take several men with me, scale the outer wall and take the Tower of Dread where they hold our beloved Princess while our forces take the gates and walls. That way the traitor will have no way of hurting them" said Ser Samn Tallhart.

"Yes, do that and you will forever gain my trust. If you find Domeric in the tower, bring his head to me. I will lead the attack on the gate, Brandon will lead an assault on the eastern wall while Osric will lead the assault on the western wall. Ser Bryen, you will defend Osric, Ser Tarner will defend Brandon. We attack tomorrow, and bring our fury upon the bloody betrayers and vile traitors. None will survive" decreed Edric.

"What of the woman and children?" pointed out Prince Osric, leaning upon his sword.

"They will be spared, provided they do not put up a fight and surrender to our soldiers" said Edric, leaning back into his chair and sighing as war weariness took its toll upon him.

"and of Sybelle Bolton?" asked Prince Brandon, sharing a look with Osric. It was as if the twins were able to share their thoughts, they reminded him so much of his own brothers.

"She will not be harmed, I have heard rumour that she has been keeping Mariah well fed and looked after. If that is the case then she will be spared our wrath" replied Edric, waving his hand to dismiss his advisors. He would get some sleep before the battle tomorrow, no matter how haunting his dreams.

---

Prince Harlon Stark 'the Iron Wolf'
Battle of Barrowton

---

Barrowton was burning as Stark and Dustin troops clashed in the small town, chants bellowed through the streets as men screamed for mercy. Most Dustin men had begun retreating to the Barrow Hall atop the Great Barrow, but that would only earn a few more days of life for them. Prince Harlon rode through the town, slashing down soldier and smallfolk alike. None would gain mercy from him, he had given them months to leave their homes or declare their loyalty to the Starks. Those remaining here were enemies. In his personal guard was Lyanna Stark, his cousin and a fearsome she-bear raised with the Mormonts, and Lord Glover, his father in law and mentor. Master Tallhart was leading the troops, though in all truth the battle had turned into a massacre after Beron Dustin had fled from the field.

Willam Dustin had not been found, but reports from his scouts claimed that he was still in the city leading a small group of men attempting to fight their way out. Harlon would find him, fight him and kill him for the cur he was. Revenge would be sweet, for his wife, for his sister, for his brother.

"There he is!" exclaimed Lyanna, pointing her axe towards a large and elegant looking man wearing the colours of the Dustins. He fought with a longsword and shield, and was skilled with both. With him was a small troop, probably a hundred or so, remaining in relatively good form and discipline. Harlon had with him around thirty riders, not enough for sustained combat but perhaps enough to break that troops morale and make them flee. They thundered towards them, screaming war chants and bloody curses as they fell upon them.

"Willam Dustin, I challenge you to personal combat. Face me or forever be cursed!" shouted Harlon, jumping off of his horse. The Dustin men nearest to him bolted, knowing his reputation well.

Willam smiled, turning to the prince, "I will happily kill you if that is what you want, for too long I answered to your bloody family and saw nothing but hatred in your eyes. Once I kill you I think I will marry your widow and make her mine". Those words sent Harlon into a rage, he charged forward, swinging clumsily, causing every attack to be parried by either his shield or sword. The fight continued for several minutes like this, with neither man gaining the upper hand. Harlon's rage, however, caused him to lose focus and so it was clear to any outsider that Willam was gaining the upper hand.

Willam parried one of Harlon's strikes with his shield, brushing him back. Harlon was not deterred, striking perfectly into a small gap and cut with all the strength he had, causing the shield to come flying off as the straps ripped open. It had not been what he wanted to cut open, but it would be a help in the duel. Willam cursed and began a frenzied attack which Harlon struggled to defend himself with, before he smashed his shield into Willam's face and sent him reeling back. Harlon's helmet had fallen off at this point, and he did not bother to replace it. He charged forwards, unaware that Willam had grabbed a burning piece of wood off the ground. Willam spun around and jabbed the wood into Harlon's right eyes, causing a horrible squish to sound out, the fire itself ravaged his face, though he was able to quickly put it out with his leather gloves. It had make its mark though, burn scars darting across the right side of his face, with his right eye a horrible goopy mess.

Willam took advantage, slicing his sword down, around and about as he pushed Harlon back. The Prince was running out of strength, wearied and battered by the fighting. He was kicked to the floor by Willam, landing with a great thud as he coughed up a bit of blood. Willam swung his sword down, but met resistance when Harlon raised his up and managed to parry it. Willam cursed in anger, before spotting Harlon's outstretched left arm. He brought his blade down upon one of the joints in the armour, around the wrist, and sliced through it with a sickening crack. Harlon screamed, jabbing his sword blindly into the air. He could not see what had happened, but he heard Willam's groan and the laughter of several Stark men as they watched. Justice had entered Willam's groin and gelded him, the usual punishment for a rapist.

Willam fell to his knees, bleating and crying from the pain, it was clear that he would be unable to fight any longer. Lyanna Stark made her way over and grabbed him, while Lord Glover helped Harlon to his feet. "I... Prince Harlon Stark, in the name of Edric Stark... King of the North and King of Winter do with much... with much joy, sentence you to die" said Harlon, struggling to get the words out. He lifted Justice up and swung it round with all his hatred and anger. It carved into his neck, but only got halfway, leaving Willam spluttering in pain and agony. Harlon pulled it out again, swinging it back and carving through the rest. He laughed as the head rolled on to the floor, content that he had gained his revenge. He looked at the stump on his left hand with his one good eye, before falling to his knees and into Lyanna's arms as the darkness took him.

---

Lord Amos Manderly
White Harbour

---

The Lord of White harbour rode out with several of his best knights, intending on meeting with the foreigners. With him was his brother, Ser Artos Manderly, who was a staunch supporter of the Starks and one of the reasons White Harbour had stayed loyal. The other reason was that the Manderlys felt a large deal of gratitude for the Starks for housing them in the North after their exile, and Amos was no exception to this. He was a large man, with a bald head and a great brown moustache. He was a large man, but not too fat to ride a horse, which he felt made him all the more imposing.

He rode into the camp easily, having been expected since they had sent a letter kindly informing him of their intentions. A troop of White Harbour soldiers had already appeared around the camp, fifty or so men, guarding it to make sure it caused no trouble. Amos had no fear of them, neither did he truly care, he had sons to take up his place and nephews to fight for them.

He made his way into the commanders tent, followed by his brother, and looked at what seemed to be their commander. Valyrian, Volantene, Lyseni? Amos didn't care, he just wanted to know if they were friendly or not. "Welcome to White Harbour, whoever you are, I trust you have come with peaceful intentions?" he said in a manner some would consider rude, but foreigners always thought the northerners to be a rude and crude people, and Amos was also no exception to that.

---

Princess Alys Glover
Winterfell

---

Alys sat in her room, accompanied only by Princess Alysanne, holding her small child in her arms. Arya Snow, the poor babe would forever be a bastard and hated simply due to her fathers crimes. She had not told anybody in the castle of the babes existence, having kept herself shut away in the room for the better part of the year. She had recovered, as much as she could, from the ordeal that Willam put her through, helped ever so much by her sister-in-law.

Alysanne sat with little Bennard, the five year old who would one day be King in the North. The boy was willful, angry and eager to prove himself worthy of his name and rank, much like his father had been as a boy. She and Harlon had been raised together at Deepwood Motte, her father mentoring him and training him. It was there that they had fallen in love, Harlon had taken her maidenhead on his sixteenth birthday and married her the day after. Her father was ecstatic about the match, but feared King Edric's reaction to it. To their surprise he had been very happy about the match, hosting the wedding himself and paying for most of the expenses. He had been nothing but kind and courteous all of the years she had been at Winterfell, and had been as angry as Harlon when he heard the news that she had been assaulted during the raid.

Yet now she felt like a prisoner inside the castle, waiting for her lost husband to return to her. He thought that bringing back the head of Willam would make her better, but she cared nothing for vengeance, well... not much anyway. She was more concerned with how she was going to treat her daughter, she was very scared that he was going to kill her. As much as she detested the circumstances of her birth, she loved her precious little daughter. If Harlon wanted to kill the babe, then he would have to cut her down first.

---

Princess Mariah Stark
The Dreadfort

---

Mariah sat inside Domeric's room located within the Tower of Dread. It was a barbaric and disgusting room, with several flayed skins lying about and banners showing flaying and other gruesome things hanging around. Yet she had been a prisoner here for the past year, and it was here that she had given birth to a son, Eddard Snow. Domeric hit her every time she said that, insisting that he was Eddard Bolton and she was Mariah Bolton, but she refused to give in. It had only been a few minutes past since he had defiled her, and he had left the room to find some poor creature to torment as always. The door creeped open and she tightened up, believing it to be Domeric, to her relief it was his sister Sybelle.

She made her way over to where Mariah was lying on the bed, half covered by the red covers and wearing a torn and tattered night dress. Sybelle had a cup of water in one hand and some soup in the other, putting the cup on the nightstand she sat next to Mariah.

"I'm so sorry" she said, the thing she always said when she came into the room. It was strange that she had to apologise for the crimes of her family, crimes that she did not share in, but it made Mariah feel strangely better. She began feeding Mariah the soup slowly, making sure that it was cool enough for her. Mariah had no strength to eat it herself, her body covered in bruises. Domeric had to prove himself stronger than her, and took every chance to beat her and show his dominance.

She finished the soup quickly, then Sybelle slowly dripped the water into her mouth, making sure that she did not choke on it. Tears formed in Mariah's eyes, whether from the pain she was in or the joy at having found someone who cared for her in this evil place she did not know. Sybelle carefully removed the wretched night dress that Domeric had forced her to wear, and began slowly cleaning her battered body. It took almost half an hour before she was relatively clean again, and she was in such pain that she did not even notice the Maester discreetly enter. He began working away, stitching up her cuts, laying ointments upon her bruises and patching up her right arm which Domeric had partly flayed one night. He had taken all of her fingernails, which had mostly grown back, and an alarming amount of skin. Most of it had healed, but the scar would remain there forever.

"W-...why are... you d-d-doing this?" she uttered, struggling for the words.

"Not all of us are cruel bastards my Princess, some of us are loyal to the Starks" said the Maester, technically breaking his vows to be loyal to his lord first and foremost.

"We are going to get you out my lady, find your boy, and escape into the siege-" said Sybelle, interrupted by a great crash. Mariah had been so out of it that she had not heard the fighting going on, she heard men screaming as the Stark forces breached the gate. A figure appeared in the doorway, heavily armoured and breathing loudly. Mariah froze, believing it to be Domeric, here to murder her and take her child.

"Princess, I am Ser Samn Tallhart, your father sent me. Quickly, we must hurry" he said, the few men with him guarding the doorway. Sybelle pulled Mariah to her feet, which luckily had been spared most of Domeric's punishments. She supported Mariah as they made their way out of the door, guarded by Ser Samn and the brave few who had joined them. The Maester she could see was holding her child, having been wrapped in many cloaks, and she hoped that he had been truthful about his loyalty, he seemed like a kindly man.

They eventually reached the courtyard where they met a most gruesome sight. Bodies were strewn about, most of them Bolton men, but few she could recognise. The battle was over, it seemed, as she could see Rees Bolton kneeling in the dirtied ground, his son and her abuser Domeric beside him. She saw her father near them, shouting at them furiously, with her two brothers beside him. It was Osric who noticed her first and came running over.

"Sister, beloved sister, the Gods be praised" he shouted as he grabbed a hold of her and pulled her up, taking the weight from Sybelle and allowing her to rest. Edric walked over slowly, his face in a mixture of horror and delight as he could clearly see what they had done to her. He looked like a different man, aged twenty years and broken by the many tragedies over his life. Would the gods never give the poor man a rest?

"Mariah, you are safe now my beloved, my strong, my most brave girl" he said, embracing her with tears in his eye. The moment was broken only by Domeric Bolton shouting for Edric to get his hands off his wife, causing Edric to turn around furiously and draw Ice.

"You impudent whelp, you dare to break your vow, kidnap my daughter and abuse her and then you dare to call her your wife! Pull him in front of his father and push his head down" commanded Edric, his soldiers obeyed and pulled Domeric, kicking and cursing, in front of Rees Bolton and made him watch. Ramsay Bolton was held nearby, also forced to watch.

"Rees Bolton, you will watch this before you die. You killed my boy, my Jon! Winter has come my lord, and you have been most unprepared for it" he said, bringing his sword to the ground. "Domeric Bolton, traitor, raper, violator and oathbreaker. I condemn you to the foulest pits where the Others reside, where no Gods nor men dare go or look. You will not die quickly, first you will be gelded as a reminder that no rape will ever go unpunished" he said, motioning for one of the soldiers to come over with a knife. Domeric was pulled away into one of the darkened rooms, only screams could be heard as the punishment was meted out.

Rees Bolton was dragged forward, he did not fight those who pulled him, having accepted his fate. "Rees Bolton, I strip you of all lands, titles and honours. House Bolton is from this day forward a landless house. Those who fought for you will be spared, as I gave my word" he said, receiving cheers from the large number of Bolton troops who had surrendered during the siege, turning the assault into a quick victory. "In my capacity as King in the North and King of Winter, do sentence you to die. Do you have any final words?" he asked.

"The screams of your brothers were like music to your ears, the screams of your little boy when I gutted him were-" started Rees, his vile last words stopped with a quick swing of Ice. His head dropped to the floor, rolling around for a second until it was grabbed by one of the Stark soldiers. The man who held it began chanting 'traitor', until the entire mass of those assembled were holding it. Mariah noticed Ramsay Bolton being led over to her father.

"Your Grace, I humbly ask that I be given Lordship over the Dreadort, and that you understand that I will be a loyal subject to you, unlike my father or grandfather" said Ramsay, not choosing his words very well. He was a soldier, not a diplomat, and this blunder would likely cost him his life.

"You ignorant fuck, you should be begging for your life not your damned titles. The Dreadfort will be ripped apart, stone by stone, until there is nothing left" said Edric, threatening Ramsay with his sword. Mariah had no idea if Edric was going to kill him, take him hostage or release him.

"You allowed your brother to torture my sister, you do not deserve to live" said Brandon, holding his signature axe in his hands, fire in his eyes. Brandon had always been the more hotheaded of the twins, far more eager for battle than Osric.

"There was nothing I could do, why would I care anyway, I-" said Ramsay, cut off by a sickening crack as the axe wrenched through his neck and tore his head off. His scream was short, but it made shocked those nearest. Brandon threw his axe to the floor and stormed away, his anger having bested him.

Mariah felt weak, having watched so many losing their lives in such short succession. That was when Domeric Bolton was led out, his clothes covered in his own blood. The soldier who had done the deed was also covered in blood, but his face was of joy rather than pain. "Sire, he kept saying the most wretched things about our beloved Princess, so I took his tongue" he said, earning the approval of her father.

Edric turned to her, unsure as what to do with her 'husband'. "Obviously your marriage is annulled, since in the view of the Gods and all men gathered here it never took place. But I leave the choice to you Mariah, do you wish me to kill him, or do you have another punishment in mind?" he asked, leaning upon his great sword.

Mariah smiled through her pain, looking maliciously at the man who had tortured her for over a year. He was whimpering, his eyes begging for mercy. She would give him mercy, but not the kind that he wanted. Death would be too quick for a man so vile, there was only one thing worse than death for him. "Se...send him to the Wall... to take the b-b-black" she said, still struggling for words. Edric nodded, and several soldiers grabbed Domeric and hoisted him into a cart that would be taking a few other Bolton loyalists to the Wall. There he would live out his final days in utter misery, unable to speak or find any pleasure, only the biting cold would give him any sensations. Her mercy was the cruelest thing she could do to him, and she was thankful to her father having given her the chance to gain revenge upon him.

She was lifted into a much nicer cart, covered with many cloaks. Her baby was sat next to her, and Ser Samn Tallhart rode next to her on his horse as her protector. She didn't find out what had happened to Sybelle, but she hoped that her father would show a kinder mercy than she had. She fell into a deep sleep, wearied by all that had occurred.

[Novae Vitae]

Daenys Targaryen, the Dreamer
Dragonstone, Dragonstone, the Narrow Sea
One-Year-After-the-Doom

Daenys slept.

But when Daenys the Dreamer slept, the gods designed to take her elsewhere, and it was in that that Daenys found her prophecies, though in her dreams she usually woke.

Daenys found herself awakening beside the brush, a massive river flowing beside her. To the north, a city lay burning asunder, the walls of its once-great palaces drowned by the tide of the massive current.

To the south, two tigers sat on the riverbank. Both were black, one crouched and one lying, and the crouched one liked the other, as though the creature was dying of some wound. Daenys could not see the detail of the wound--a hunter's poisoned arrow could have felled the beast, or age could be taking her.

The crouched tiger let out a horrible roar when at last the lying one passed, and for a moment the roar shook the world, as though the creature spoke with the voice of the lost Valyria. So mighty was the roar that a tear fell from Daenys's face.

It landed in her palm, as black as the tiger, and when the great beast saw the tear it rounded on her and charged. More tears fell from Daenys's face, as black as midnight, and Daenys could not stop them.

The beast lunged, at her or the tears she knew not--but the creature lunged all the same, fangs bore, claws outstretched, muscles rippling for the kill--

And Daenys was gone.

Daenys then appeared in the smoldering remains of a castle, stumbling back as she still avoided the lost tiger. It had not been dragon fire that destroyed this place, for when she placed a hand on the ruins to rise they chilled her to the bone.

She wandered in the vast remains for several minutes before she saw and heard the creature at the time. The massive wolf, larger than any she had every seen, sat whimpering upon a throne as bloodied and broken as the Fourteen Fires. Daenys placed her hand to the crumbling wall to support herself at the pitiful sight, but at once she saw blood on her hand and leaped back.

"Jon." The name was whispered in her ear as she jumped, and then again when she turned to find the speaker. She shook herself--there was no speaker but fate in her dreams.

Suddenly, the wolf raised its hackles and the whimpering gave way to a horrible growl. Daenys, from her hidden spot amongst the ruins, saw man twice her height enter the room, painfully flayed. Beside him, a man with a broken crown entered. He bore two axes.

"Winter comes for them all," the voice said.

The wolf leaped.

And Daenys was gone.

When she appeared next, she was standing high, but sand stood up to her knees.

Daenys felt a heavy son bear down on her, one heavier than even Valyria's. All around her was sand, but to the east she could see mountains as red as Ulcrax on the horizon, and farther north the sand gave way to stone.

But all at once, the sand inched forward. The stone receded, as though trying to repel it by rising in a mound, but the sand pulled itself forward all the same, slipping through the stone as though its gaps were chinks in armor.

The sun itself seemed to urge the sand on, and rays as sharp as spears descended to pierce the stones. They rose, struggling, but the sand and sun together were too powerful, and the stones collapsed before the endless tide.

The tide swallowed Daenys with its endlessness, and she was gone.

From the sand Daenys was born anew, and she burst forth from an egg as gold as the sun. She flew high, the wings of her newborn form strong to the touch, and Daenys knew that in this moment she was truly a dragon, in more than name.

She flew over the world itself, as though she bore witness to history. Across the world, she saw huge fires burning. The fires, huge and endless, burn so large that Daenys could see them, even high above the land. She knew of only one beast that could burn fires so fierce.

Dragons.

On Dragonstone itself, five fires burnt, and on Driftmark another roared. Across the Narrow Sea, Daenys could see the dragons of Myr, Tyrosh, Lys, and Volantis burning in their strength. Daenys could not raise an eyebrow in her golden form, but all the same she was confused. What did the gods mean to show her?

And like child playing candles, the fire were snuffed so that only six remained.

And Daenys woke with a scream that shook Dragonstone.

Elaena Targaryen
Claw Isle, the Narrow Sea
One-Year-After-the-Doom

"Stop bickering," Elaena demanded. The two brothers were forever at each other's throats.

"We're not bickering," Aegon said, his hand too close to Dark Sister. "We're only discussing matters of state. Loudly."

Elaena seized his hand, since the Celtigars might be watching, but she dug her nails into his palm. "Talk about them nicely, or I'll gut you both," Elaena threatened. She was dressed in fine red silks today, but strapped to the inside of her arm was a dagger.

"I'd like to see you try, Elaena," Daeron replied in a hiss. While Aegon wore courtly attire, Daeron wore armor, a crimson dragon roaring with three heads on his breast. The three heads themselves were for the their father, grandfather, and mother.

"You may be the one in armor, but I'm the true danger," Elaena replied, a dangerous grin slipping over her face. She turned back to Aegon, then said, "Be a good boy, and I'll prove that later." The grin grew.

"Alright," Aegon replied. Though Elaena knew Daeron blushed over her shoulder, Aegon remained as lustful as ever, and his face went without fluster as a sharp smirk spread over his face.

The three siblings mounted their dragons. Daeron rode Jurelle, a great purple beast of over sixty years, while Elaena rode Philar. Philar was a beautiful dragon, and her own, lithe and green like a well-cut emerald.

Aegon himself rode Hyroxis. Though the dragon was the youngest of the three, Hyroxis's silver scales reached further than Philar's green ones, though Jurelle was still the largest considerably.

The courtyard gusted with sudden flight of dragons, and the three siblings shot into the air, making way for Dragonstone with storms on the horizon.

Daeron Targaryen
Above the Narrow Sea
One-Year-After-the-Doom

Daeron's armor wore heavy on him, but it was more than worth it. The storm slashed at his brother and sister, the rain hitting them like hard little daggers falling from the sky to cut their skin.

Daeron was fine within his armor, though he had allowed Jurelle to fall behind as though the dragon wavered in the rain. In reality, Jurelle was well in health, her purple scales still pulsing with the heat of a dragon. Soon, Daeron thought. Soon, I will be heir to Dragonstone.

Daeron waited until the storm grew so thick he could barely see his siblings ahead of himself, then he ordered Jurelle forward, so closing to Hyroxis that the she-dragons could smell each other. Daeron inched Jurelle as close as he could, lining her mouth with Aegon's back, waiting for the right moment when--

"DRACARYS!" came the shout, and not from Daeron. He barreled Jurelle right and down on instinct, the dragon spiraling towards the sea as fire shot above Daeron's head. He knew at once that it was Philar, and he dipped low to avoid the dragon's flames, letting Jurelle's wing graze the water before he rounded right and spiraled upward, squaring himself with Elaena and Philar. Aegon had flown off, not noticing, and was now only just rounding.

Daeron seized his moment, letting Jurelle fly low to the sea before he jerked up below Philar. Elaena was never used to battle, and used to less to dragon combat. She reared Philar back, but the dragon flapped awkwardly in the lashing rain, and Jurelle's bite was deep.

Jurelle seized Philar by the neck, teeth sinking deep, molted blood creeping down over the dragon's neck and mixing with the rain. "Dracarys! Dracarys!" Daeron could hear Elaena screaming, but Philar could only give out weak puffs of flame into the torrent with Jurelle's teeth buried so deep into her throat.

Daeron saw the life pass from the dragon's eyes . . .

Aegon Targaryen
Above the Narrow Sea
One-Year-After-the-Doom

. . . and flame danced over Jurelle's face. Aegon had always hated the she-dragon with her vicious temper, and now she could be soaked in dragonfire for the betrayal. He would bathe Daeron, too, but now was not yet the time.

Hyroxis flew as fast as she ever had, her silver wings outstretched over the small space in which Jurelle thrashed and Philar fell, likely dying, toward the sea. Aegon had her fly broad, so that she slipped nicely behind Philar's corpse as it slipped toward the sea, the last remnants of life allowing the dragon to continue beating her wings upward as Aegon pulled Elaena from the saddle.

She was silent as Aegon fumbled with the chains on his saddle. Though the siblings rarely used them in casual fight, they proved useful now, as it allowed Aegon to hold Elaena tight to his front as he flew in circle to round on Jurelle.

Daeron was pushing the blind dragon on him, the purple wings crashing through the raging storm to strike out. Aegon saw Daeron's lips moved and Hyroxis dipped low to avoid the flames that shot forth a moment later. "Don't kill him," Elaena said, in a weak mutter. She seemed half-asleep. Hair fell in front of her face, like a curtain against the rain.

Hyroxis flew low to the sea and leaped up, as Jurelle had to Philar. The silver dragon took the purple by the throat as Aegon urged her upward, the hot blood pouring down on Aegon and Elaena as Hyroxis flew upward still, Jurelle struggling to escape the dragon's fangs.

Aegon flew Hyroxis away, not wanting to risk the slashing claws the maddened dragon wielded. Instead he flew Hyroxis around Jurelle's back, drawing Dark Sister. He brandished the sword as Hyroxis flew broad again, holding Elaena tight to him with his free arm.

"Don't kill him," Elaena whispered again.

And Aegon swung his sword as the last drops of blood fell from the fast-dying Jurelle.

Gaemon Targaryen, Lord of Dragonstone
Hull, Driftmark, the Narrow Sea
One-Year-After-the-Doom

Gaemon left the servant with specific instructions--as soon as Daenys woke, she would be told where he had gone. Before, however, the servants were under instruction that Daenys could not be woken. If Gaemon knew one thing about his wife, it was that she was prophetic at the most random of times. He would not risk losing a prophecy to say pleasant goodbyes for the day.

Gaemon rode Ulcrax with all the speed he could across the small about of sea between Dragonstone and Hull. Ulcrax was a massive dragon, so huge that the creature's wings could overshadow towns when in high flight. Ulcrax had scales as crimson as blood, but laced throughout the dragon were workings of gold so spectacular that they shined in the storm.

It was a vicious storm, and it tore at Gaemon as he dashed out across land and sea. He was still dressed in the attire he had worn when the letter had reached him--in leathers, made for training, though he had taken Blackfyre, even in his haste.

When at last Gaemon reached Hull, he did not slow himself. "Dracarys!" he heard pierce the air before he neared, and he saw a elegant black creature swooping over the line of peasant rebels, their tattered clothes nothing against the dragonfire. Bloodfyre, as Gaemon knew the dragon to be, struck with finesse and skill, and Gaemon considered that he would have been hard-pressed to fight as well, even with his training from Valyria.

Gaemon landed near the rear of the line, meaning to strike the smallfolk from the ground with dragonfire. Ulcrax was so massive that to attack from above would destroy the docks of Hull, for Ulcrax's breath was hotter than any dragons and could turn towers to rubble in a few gusts.

"Dracarys!" Gaemon yelled, letting the fire jump over the dock without burning it too badly. The smallfolk erupted in fire, not turning fast enough to strike at Ulcrax. Gaemon pulled the dragon's head in a constant turn, letting the flames burn against their endless torrent. He killed dozens within a minute's time, and it looked as though the arrival of the Lord of Dragonstone had brought an end to the riot. Some of the smallfolk began to disperse, and Gaemon took to the air, meaning to let out a breath of fire into the air to frighten the last of the smallfolk away.

And then the gods conspired against him.

Lightning flashed from the heavens and as Ulcrax arched his crimson head to strike the finally blow, the spear of the gods leaped into his body. Lightning mingled with fire in a horrible, elegant dance, and Gaemon only watched as the dragon's muscles suddenly fell limp. Fire had swallowed the bolt, but that had been what the gods intended.

Ulcrax fell swiftly, crashing hard into the dock. It seemed as though all of Hulll shook for a minute, and the smallfolk stopped their rioting for an instant to see how the dragonlord had been felled.

But Gaemon had leaped from his dragon as Ulcrax fell, rolling to recover. He felt the cuts covering his body, but there were no serious injuries. He drew Blackfyre and prepared for the torrent of smallfolk that would soon come to assail him, hoping that Bloodfyre could arrive to aid him in time.

[Nuxipal]

Dragonlord Gaemon Velothys
The Bleeding Tower, Tyrosh

Gaemon was the patriarch of a crumbling House. Velothys had grown powerful in the last half century before the doom. He, was a minor member of a great family, yet he rode a dragon. And his two sons rode dragons. His family once held more than a dozen dragons and hundreds of eggs. Now they had three dragons and four eggs. Uraxes, Meleys, and Roryx. All of battle size and strength. All with battle experience. Uraxes had been named "Sun Splitter" for its part in putting down a slave rebellion instigated by rogue members of the Dornish Martell family. Meleys and Roryx both hadn't been hatched at the time. Roryx was hatched first, for his first child, a daughter by the name of Rhaenyra. However, the child died at age six and the dragon was left in the family stable in Draconys. Meleys hatched and was mounted by his second son, Aemon. Only twelve years ago now, his youngest son, Jacaerys, found his way into the dragon stable and mounted Roryx without anyone's knowledge. It was lucky he chose that one instead of some of the other monsters there. Or perhaps it is misfortune as all those others are now dead.

He wished the freehold had survived once he heard about the doom initially, but upon realizing the scope of the destruction and that thousands of dragons and millions of people died in the blaze he knew that he was all that was left of the family. By fate, he had been stationed as the military adviser in Tyrosh. While he wasn't directly in control of the city his son was currently favored to be elected as Archon. The last Archon died at the ripe age of seven and eighty. Since this, the city nobles have been debating on giving the position of Archon to someone who is very young and can be influenced enough to serve as both a war leader and and a just peacetime ruler. However, Gaemon had been pushing for a monarchy to be established with his bloodline, being the most pure Valyrian line in the city, as the ruling family. He has just under 40% of the magistrates agreeing with him, assuming they all retained some kind of position.

That is when the first letters arrived from Qohor. A Dragonlord named Aurion was proclaiming himself to be Emperor Aurion I of Valyria and was going to lead an army south to reclaim what the Doom stole from the Valyrian people. In his letter he claims to have already put together an army of 30,000 men and has several dragonriders supporting him. Gaemon would have to think about this one. It was going to be a rough call. If he supported this Aurion, it could reunite Valyria and he could get the titles over Tyrosh he sought. If it failed, his family was likely to end. He sent a letter to Volantis.

My brother-in-law Belicho,

Have you heard of the Dragonlord calling himself Emperor Aurion? He says he is forming an army in Qohor to march south and reclaim the Valyrian Peninsula. This could be the chance we need to rebuild our nation and prevent the coming wars that will undoubtedly follow. I will be flying with my dragon and my eldest son east. We will make a stop in Selhorys before finishing our trip to Qohor to meet with the so called Emperor.

Your Brother, Gaemon Velothys

Dragonlord Jacaerys Velothys
Little Tyrosh, Tyrosh

The large town was built some six hundred years ago. In the seven Kingdoms, it would be considered a city. While it was bound on an island like its mother Tyrosh, Little Tyrosh also held the same wealth producing dyes that created the city that became Tyrosh. The wealth that flowed through Little Tyrosh was meager compared to what was in Tyrosh itself, but here they did not need worry about the politics of the world, for so long as Tyrosh stood, no one would even think about Little Tyrosh. Jacaerys enjoyed it here for that reason. He would frequently fly out here with his twin sister Baela and they would buy expensive things and then sell them to another merchant, usually for a profit. However, Jacaerys has a more important matter that he always is attending to. The military of Tyrosh and its territories.

While each town has its own garrison, usually numbering near 10,000 when it came to raising the citizen militia, the real focus for him was the professional army which Tyrosh employed. The 250 warships were what kept pirates at bay and the 35,000 soldiers who kept them afraid to try and take any major ports that the Tyroshi Dragonlords held. He knew his father didn't like the idea, but Jacaerys saw a use for this military. Take the Stepstones and forge an alliance with some of the Westerosi houses in Dorne. It would give them a recruiting ground for their navy. Give these pirates a legitimate job and prevent piracy from ever becoming a problem for Tyrosh again.

His father however, wanted a unified Valyria again. Jacaerys remembered their old home. It was comfortable and had its own type of beauty. A beauty that was gone from the world. Instead, Jacaerys could enjoy the beauty he saw before him. A setting sun on a soft ocean, with a beautiful woman coming out of the water to sit by him and his dragon.

[Volantenestan]

Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis
Triarchal Palace

Belicho gazed down from the sixth floor balcony of his palace. Below him, the the center courtyard were twenty five men of his personal guard practicing street fighting. Fifteen men were dressed in rags and held knives, clubs, spears, hammers and other weapons the lower classes of Volantis could get their hands on. The other ten men wore green breastplates in the shape of male torsos, carried spears, maces and round shields with black cloaks flowing from their backs and cicak helmets on their heads. The ringing clang of metal hitting metal filled the air and suddenly Belicho found himself annoyed by the sound. He turned away from the balcony and in to the large bedroom. He strode over to the other side of the room and reclined it to and wicker peacock chair overlooking the Grand Harbour.

He had always enjoyed watching the ships come and go from the harbour, Lorathi Cogs, Pentoshi Galleys and Yi-Tish Junks and all the ships in between came to this harbour, on their way to the other great cities of the world. As Belicho was looking over the harbour he saw a black sailed heavy galley. It's hull was painted white and Belicho could almost smell the disgusting aroma that exuded from its hull. It was a slaver galley, its green harpy flag symbolized it was from Yunkai and was bringing pleasure slaves to Volantis, then on to Lys. Belicho despised the slave trade and he kept only five slaves himself (as Volantene nobles were expected to have slaves) however he was no fool, he knew Volantis needed the slave trade, most cities of the world needed the slave trade so he accepted it was a part of life and turned a blind eye to it.

He walked over to a table and began pouring himself some wine New Oros red wine. As he pushed the emerald emerald goblet to his lips he heard running footsteps and armour, he placed his hand on the dagger at his side and continued to drink his wine. The door burst open and his son Simone and a messenger ran through, Belicho let go of his dagger and smiled. "Simone, I thought you were with Lorenca, why are you here?" he said, dabbing his lips with a cloth. Simone gasped as he caught his breath then said "Our spies in Lys... one of them has returned with an urgent message" Simone bent over gasping for around five seconds then stood up again. Belicho put down his goblet and motioned the spy forwards. The spy whispered a message to him and all the colour drained from his face "Fuck" has all he said

One hour later

Around a huge round table in Belicho's palace sat the most powerful men in the city. Triarch Belicho Maegyr, Triarch Olivar, Triarch Maximius, Supreme General Visconti, General Simone Maegyr, Grand Admiral Lorenca Maegyr, Spy Chief Ubaldo Azzone and representatives of the Consul's of Volantis's vassals . Everyone except Belicho was sitting down, Belicho was standing in front of a huge, very detailed map of southern Essos.

"Gentlemen" Belicho began "You have been called he because Volantis will soon be at war" . At the word "war" the people around the table began gasping and shouting, "why", "who", "when". "Silence!" Belicho voice carried across the room and the other fell quite. Thank you, as I was saying. One hour ago I received a message from my spy in Lys. Three day's ago the High Priest of R'hollor in Lys was murdered. I can assure you Volantis had nothing to do with it but the King of Lys has pinned the blame on Voalntis. If you ask me it is most likely he who killed the old High Priest so he force the other Priests to give him the vacant position, which he has. It is well known that the imperialist in Lys have always wanted to subjugate our great city, they look on us in envy of our wealth and power and now this new 'King' has finally decided to try it. Our spy's tell me that when he crowned himself High Priest he said-

Belicho paused and looked at a piece of paper on the table " ' -mourn his needless dead by Volantene hands. And fear not as I will avenge our spiritual father. Volantis will pay for their sins.' If this was not enough proof of his blatant imperialist desire to exterminate us my spy's have more news. The Lysini fleet should have been demobilized one week ago after the 'King' of Lys returned from subjugating the cities in the disputedlands, every hour it remains mobilized it costs money but he has been strengthening his fleet and army. I estimate he will land on the Orange Shore by the end of this week at the latest. He seeks to turn us in to his Slaves!
Well that will never happen. Volantis is more powerful, richer, greater than Lys, he would never be able to subjugate Volantis, we will remain Free from this day to the end of time! In Volantis we know how to deal with Tyrants who would seek to oppress us, I impaled the last 'King' who tried to harm our people and I will do the same to this Lysini barbarian if he does not surrender!"

Dear Brother

I have heard of him but I have not paid much attention. I wish beyond anything Valyria could be rebuilt but I have sent ships towards Valyria and I will warn, do not go. The very sea boils and fire erupts from the land and the air is thick with Sulphur. There are no plants or animals, nothing can live in our home. If it could be reinhabited I would move heaven and earth to make it so but it cannot be. I beg you, dear brother do not leave the sister I love husband less. if you chose to go I will make sure Selhorys welcomes you. I will not be able to go their but I will send mine and your nephew to see you off and I will make sure the Consul welcomes you.

However even if I thought it wise to join you I could not.

Lys is about to attack Voalntis

The King of Lys had said so himself and my spies have reported a Lysini fleet gathering. Volantis will soon be at war with Lys and thus I ask you, brother, to aid us in this struggle either with your fleet or army I ask for aid, we are to great allies and if one of us falls, they will as well.

Belicho Maegyr,

[The House of Gardener]

His Grace Mern of the House Gardener, the Tenth of his Name, King of The Mander and the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches and High Marshal of the Reach

Mern waved the crowd, his brown hair went well with the crown, it made him look regal, it made him look a king. It should have been his father though. Had he not died from a wasting illness, it would have been he that was crowned, not Garth. His enemies were already using it as a way to try and discredit him, calling him kinslayer. Who would not though, if in the same position. Had the Prince of Dorne been rumored to kill his father, Mern would be right on it, helping to spread those rumors.

"People of the Reach, hear my words!" He called out. He looked every bit a king, he was what they wanted in a king. A handsome warrior king to make the maidens go crazy. "While I wear this crown of flowers now, I promise you, diplomacy is not my intention, unless that is what I rename my blade!" He japed to them, earning laughs from the crowd. "We shall plant our seeds, breed our animals, we shall harvest both for winters to come, but I do not intend to sit idly by.

"The Stormlords, the Dornishmen and the Westermen, they sit in their castles, they think that is where they are safe. I promise you war my people! I promise you blood and glory! First I shall take a lady wife and get her with child, establish a regent to rule the in cause of my death, then I will ride, I shall rally the banners personally at each castle, and then we march.

"To where, I do no know yet, but I promise you I shall be no weak king my people, I promise you that! Let the gods cast me down right here if I am lying to you all." No sign from the gods came along. "Do you see? I have their blessing! The Seven who are one. One day, even the heathens that still worship their trees will be routed! I believe the long summer will only come once all the world knows of the Seven Pointed star off by heart, to know to pray to each aspect for different asks." The people cheered their young king.

"We are the Reach, we are faithful servants of our mighty god! In the light of the seven, let it be known that I, His Grace Mern of the House Gardener, the Tenth of my name since the days of Garth Greenhand and his son who founded my mighty house, the King of the Mander river and the Reach, the Lord of Highgarden, Defender of the Marches and High Marshal of the Reach, will not sit on my throne and do nothing. I own a sword and I mean to bloody it!" He said. They cheered him on, chanting his name. "KING MERN, KING MERN, KING MERN!" They shouted, and he could not be any happier.

[Volantenestan]

Belicho Maegyr, Triarch of Volantis
Field of Tigers, West of Volantis

One year ago I was coming back from war, now I am going to war again

Belicho almost laughed at the irony. I thought we would be at peace after I destroyed Sar Mell, now it looks like I will have to raze two cities before Volantis is safe. Belicho sat on a heavily heavily armoured horse as rode around the vast military encampment. He himself wore a more ornate version of the Dragon's Children armour. His armour was green and black as opposed to polished steel and a green cape fluttered from his shoulders. On his head he wore a Tiger Helm, in the same fashion as the Tiger Cloak spear infantry. His son who rode beside him wore the same armour. He had chosen to take his son with him to war again, after all Simone was a general while leaving his daughter Lucia in charge of the city while he was on campaign. He had sent messengers out after Claudia and he had heard reports she was heading back towards Valysar.

The army itself was an impressive sight 25,000 soldiers from Volantis, Volon Therys and Valysar. Another 10,000 cavalry and infantry should be arriving from Selhorys any day now. The regular Volantene army was famed for its discipline and as soon as Belicho had sent out the message to send troops, legions of Tiger Cloaks, Son's of Valyria and Dragon's Children had been converging on Volantis to protect the motherland. Voalntis itself would protected by 8,000 regular soldiers from the city and around, another 5,000 would be marching to protect Volantis from the lands between New Oros and the city as well as 110,000 people of Volantis (freemen and citizens) had been given spears, shields and helmets to use if the city was attacked. The Volantene Fleet of 350 warships had been called home to Volantis and had orders to stay there until it was confirmed the enemy fleet had landed, then the Grand Admiral would have to improvise.

All in all, Belicho would be able to put 35,000 soldiers in to the field against and estimated enemy force of 43,000 soldiers. Both sides armies were veterans of previous campaigns. Lys's army from their wars in the Disputed lands and Volantis's from the Sar Mell campaign one year ago and the Essarian Rebellion four years before the Doom in which Volantene soldiers had led the Valyrian counter attack against an Essarian rebel king.

However there were two cards Belicho still had to play, the first was Dragons.

The Maegyr family had two dragons, Maythrax and Nivvoni. Maythrax, rode by Belicho, and Nivvoni, rode by both Simone and Lucia were considered small by the standards of Old Valyria, now however they were considered well sized, at forty three meters and thirty eight meters respectively. Maythrax, who had destroyed the King of Sar Mell's armies a year ago would go with Belicho on the campaign to both inspire the soldiers and harm the enemy. Nivvoni would stay in Volantis with Lucia. Belicho had thought about taking Nivvoni with him, however he had elected to leave her in Volantis to boost the people's moral and to be used against any sea born attack on the city.

The second trick he had was the land itself

Belicho had ordered the garrisons in towns wast of the Rhoyne, in the Voalntene hinterlands to initiate a scorched earth policy. The area along the between the Disputed Lands and Volantis got very hot in the day but cool at night. It was not a desert but it was close. Belicho had ordered the castle garrisons to defile every well with sand and rocks and burn every crop and kill every animal they found as to deprive the invaders of food and water. With any look the Lysini army would fall apart before it reached Belicho. The Volantenes were not going to rush to meet the enemy, they were going to wait while the invasion force dragged itself through the almost desert land to prolong their suffering before the came to a battlefield of Belicho's choice.

[Diliath]

Morenia Eltaenon, Sunspear

"The sending of the raven would please me a lot. I can say that I'm glad that you take my offer in consideration, I hope that much good will come from our alliance. About the terms and conditions do I want to say what we ask and what we offer. We offer you money, as much as you need for any campaign in the future, we offer you miltary support as soon as our regional power is secured and we offer you a marriage to show our loyalty to this agreement. We ask you for help with our invasion of the Stepstones in later times and we ask for everlasting friendsip between our nations. You can of course send military support during our conflicts in Essos but that is voluntarily, of course, and not a condition on paper." She had already spoken bluntly and she decided to play an open game with the Yronwood, altough she knew that that was risky would it show wether the Martells were loyal. "Our situation is uncertain yet, mylord. The Doom has ended the Freehold what has caused tension and war. Lys is at the point of going to war with Volantis but Lys is not alone. All lands around Volantis support us. Remember that our future is yet uncertain but one it is secured can we offer you more than many others." Morenia had said what she had to say and she was intrested in the Dornishmen's reply.

Tylrean Eltaenon, close to White Harbor

Tylrean had to hide his despise when he saw the barbarish northern lord. The northener looked and acted like atrue barbarian but he seemed to be an important man. Tylrean stood in his tent, a table between him and the northern lord. His blue lips were slightly smirking as he bowed a bit forward over the table. "Peaceful intentions, you ask? Yes, I guess for you and your city. I heard that civil war is hurting this lands, and I tought that I could maybe have some business here. They say your city is he Biggest in the North so I was thinking of joining your side in this war. So please tell me something about this land, your family and city and the current situation in the North. If it all pleases me do you have a few hundrred elite warriors on your side for free."

Galaerion Eltaenon, Lys, three days after the High priests fall

Galaerion watched the reports before him. He had just handled a lot of cases that were brought forward to the High Priest. He had answered all petitions but one. He was both pleased and displeased by the reports. THe first report was telling about a Volantene song about the destruction of Sar Mell. The song disgusted Galaerion and he quickly wrote a second part to sing when he would the Volantenes in battle. He was not a song-writer but it could do. He added instructions and handed the paper with the song to a servant. "Bring this to Ubald, tell him that all soldiers need to be able to sing this withn two days." The servant looked suprised but bowed and took the paper. Galaerion took another report. It told him that his envoys had reached the Stormcrows, Second Sons and some other mercenary companies and that they had started the negotiation. This wuld bring at least 20.000 more men to the Lysene cause. Then did he take the last report, that he would handle before he would meet the last petitioner, from the pile of papers. He frowned during the reading but was mostly pleased. A certain Aurion had proclaimed and was being followed by 30.000 men. Galaerion had now new hopes for the reunition of the Freehold. He started to write a message to Aurion.

To Aurion, dragonlord of old Valyria, emperor of Valyria and reunifier of the Freehold

Greetings, my emperor.

Tales about your ideas of reuniting Valyria sound like songs to my ears. I can guarantee the loyalty of Lys to your cause. At the moment, however, is Lys in struggle with Volantis. Because of this am I not able to show my allegiance yet, be sure however of my loyalty to you if you show to be a true heir of Valyria, of course. Know that my loyalty to you will of course grow and can be shown when you join forces with me against Volantis.

Be sure of my loyalty, my emperor

Signed

Galaerion Eltaenon, dragonlord of old Valyria, king of Lys and High Priest of R'hllor

When he had given the message to a priest with the message that it had to be delivered turned Galaerion to the door and ordered to bring the last petitioner, in the meanwhile did he pull his robes right, it wear simple but fine-woven robes and te only things that indicated his rank were his necklace, silver crown and ring. Galaerion was above average length and had a lean, handsome, timeless face with high cheeks and purple eyes that were currently calm like a mountain lake. The prest of the ceremony called the name of the petitioner:"Thoereo Maryr from Braavos for Galaerion Eltaenon, king of Lys king of the Tears, dragonlord of old Valyria. shield of R'hllor, High Priest of R'hllor, Flame of Truth, Light of Wisdom and First servant of the Lord of Light ." Galaerion raised his eyebrows, as he knew who the Maryr family was. He would have given the man an earlier audience if he would have known his name. Galaerion was intrigued what message the man would bring. And he welcomed him warmly when he entered. "Greetings, master Thoereo, a Maryr is always welcome underr my roof. I'm so sorry that my servants did not recognize you. It must have been a long journey from Braavos. What has brought you to Lys if I may ask?"

A few hours later...

A happy atmosphere and noise was hanging in the air. Galaerion watched over the rows of soldiers leaving the citadel trough the Three Gates. Galaerion sat atop his horse on a big stage between the Gates, Rhaelle was beside him. All regular soldiers were already leaving the castle for half an hour but there were just so many of them. They would walk in three different ways to the ports were they would enter the ships. Only 5000 men would remain in Lys. All the others would join the offensive. Galaerion's attention was drawn by the crowds that were cheering and throwing flowers at the soldiers, whose armor was shining bright in the light of the sun. Priests of R'hllor were blessing every soldier that left the Citadel, it all seemed like in the legends, only joy and honour. Galaerion knew that that would change soon. At that moment grew the cheering in size as the Lysene legions left the Citadel, a just created unit that was trained like unsullied but stood out of free citizens and that was heavier armed. Man could see that the people of Lys were proud of the unit. This was the moment that Galaerion started to speak:""People and armies of Lys, I speak to you as king and priest. Volantis has always considered itself better than Lys, but we can all see the world changing. The star of Lys is rising and is going to replace that of Volantis from the upper position. Volantis has seen this and they're getting jealous. That's why they've killed your High Priest. This has brought dishonour upon them, a dishonour that will be avenged by Lys and R'hllor. People of Lys do I have your blssing to march at the mainland to show that they cannot threaten Lys unpunished." He was answered by a loud shouting of agreement. "Let it than happen that way. I won't lie to you, we have a smaller army and fleet but we have R'hllor beside us and we've some of the elite units of old Valyria.And if we'll lose will we at least have brought fear to Volantis and will we have fallen honourably." Cheering stopped him from continuing and at that moment replaced ranks of Lightsworn and unsullied the legions at the two outer Gates. A whole military orchestra now eplaced the drums as the White Guard appeared in the central Gate. These well-trained Valyrian and Lyseni nobles were the best unit of Lys and propably of old Valyria. They all rode white horses, wore white capes, wielded white lances and shields and wore white painted armor. This white surrounded Eltaenon sigils that decorated the capes and cuirasses. Galaerion nodded to Rhaelle and both joined the ranks of white Guards that left a gap free around them. The whole way to the port was Galaerion constantly hailed and praised and when he and Rhaelle rode past grew the cheering to enormous levels. At that moment could man see the two Eltaenon dragons flee above the city towards the port. Galleasses, dromons, transport ships and war galleys filled the port and slowly sailed towards the mailand. 400 transport ships and 200 war ships would join his campaign. At the piers was a stage for the dragons to land. Galaerion dismounted his horse and walked towards his giant golden dragon Vhyraxes, who looked enormous besides Rhaelle's smaller, green Ardaxes. They mounted and Galaerion then put his Valyrian steel sword Sunshine on fire and raised into the air. Vhyraxes and Ardaxes now rose and leaped into the air. From up the air was Galaerion impressed by the hundreds of ships that were crossing the water to the mainland. He knew that all were full of men and he knew that he commanded one of the strogest armies in the world. Pleased by this voice and the happiness of Rhaelle that was laughing beside him appeared a smile on Galaerion's face. Tomorrow would he maybe be dead but now was he one of the most powerful and happy men in the world.

Silaena Lohar, Lys, three days after the High Priests death

Silaena moaned and pushed the man away that was lying upon her in her bed. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and cleaned he face with water before calling the servants. They clothed and washed herself and soon was she ready for the day. It would be an important one. Her father had given her the command of the ships that would sail west to protect the offensive from an attack from that side. This meant that she had 50 full armed war galleys, her own dromond and half the forces of her house and she had plans with this forces. She would invade the Stepstones, her father had repelled a pirate invasion reently and the pirate lords were weakened so it was the moment to strike. She had secured the loyalty of her men in the past months and she was ready to become a queen. Before leaving did she order the servants to give her her jewel and daggers. She was wearing a low-cut shirt and tight pants as usual. Jewels enriched her arms and well-formed bosom and her hips were decorated with two ornated but sharp daggers of Valyrian steel. She left her house with ten unsullied and quickly made her way to the port. On her way did she notice Vhaella Eltaenon, who had propably had bid farewell to his father and 'beloved' husband when they had left earlier that day. With an arrogant smile did she walked to Vhaella and said:"It must be horrible to see your husband leave, isn't it. It will be a lot colder in bed and you'll feel so alone." Vhaella was seemly getting angry now Silaena was allude to the bad marriage Vhaella had with the more than twice as old barbarian Ubald and everyone knew that Vhaella had never slept in the same house as Ubald. When Silaena seemed to start to continue said Vhaella:"Stop." Silaena laughed and answered:"Why, it must have been an awful moment when your beloved husband left and it is could to talk about it. You shouldn't be afraid that he dies, you know, he'll propably live until you're both happy and old." This was to much for Vhaella who smashed Silaena on her cheeks, so hard that blood left Silaena's mouth. "Take you words back, whore of Serullar." said Vhaella. Silaena looked up, not believing she was hit until she tasted the blood. Now her eyes fulled with anger and she commanded:"Unsullied push this wretch's head on the ground and give her a few good hits.'' While the unsullied forfilled orders screamed Vhaella but no people were close enough to hear. Silaena now put her feet on Vhaella's neck and said:"Beg for mercy, bitch." Vhaella now cried nd blood stramed from her mouth but the word:"Mercy" could be heard. "The next time I'll kill you." after this words turned Silaena around and continued her walk to the port, followed by her unsullied. She didn't notice Vhaella's eyes burning in her back full of hate. When she reached the harbour did she went to her ships that were full of soldiers and ready to go. When she stood on her dromond were commands given and in the light of the sun left theships the port on and started their journey to the Stepstones.

[Nuxipal]

Dragonlord Gaemon Velothys
The Bleeding Tower, Tyrosh

The Archon vote was ending soon, Gaemon and Aemon were preparing their dragons for their journey to Qohor when the return message from Belicho arrived. Reading over it he shook his head. If Belicho didn't want to rebuild Valyria fine, but he wasn't going to live without trying. Aemon wanted more than anything to have that old life back. He did however send a message to his son Jacaerys to return to Tyrosh and prepare an army to assist his uncle Belicho. Just as he and Aemon mounted up a messenger arrived with the election results. Smiling, he told the messenger to find the young Jacaerys and tell him the news. Soon after, Gaemon and Aemon lifted into the sky. Two dragons flying from the island, east towards Selhorys.

Jacaerys Velothys
The Bleeding Tower, Tyrosh

Jacaerys arrived back at the Bleeding tower a few hours after his father left for the east. As he arrived the messenger approached. "Lord Jacaerys, come with me to the Council of Magistrates. They have an announcement for you. As well as you have instructions from your father before he left." Jacaerys looked at his sister and shrugged. He followed the messenger as he was reading his father's instructions. They were clear as to what he would need to be doing. As he entered the chambers the Magistrates stood. And it was announced, "All Hail Archon Jacaerys. May he rule well in his life and leave Tyrosh a stronger city than before his reign."

The announcement shocked him. He hadn't entered the race himself, but he knew that didn't matter. He had been chosen. The first dragonlord chosen by the magistrates to be an Archon since the city's founding. This was a major step in the city's history they knew what kind of leader a dragonlord would be and he would deliver. "Well, this is unexpected. I however see this as an opportunity. As we speak, our rival Lys is preparing for war. We must do the same. I will land with some of our army at our fort on the Disputed Peninsula. We will march on the Lysene Disputed lands with my dragon leading the army. The Lands are rich and wealthy. If we can take more of these lands we will be in a good position to take the stepstones as a defensive barrier against piracy and Lyseni privateers."

There was general applause to the idea. More land, more wealth and the promise of going after the pirates in the stepstones. It was a worthy idea. Now to raise that army. The Magistrates released a great deal of coin to hire mercenaries to bolster the already impressive army as well as sent word to Little Tyrosh and Kylos requiring each send 2000 militia men to the disputed peninsula to meet up with the Tyroshi Army. It would take several days, but with the Knights of House Velothys, the army would be significant and centered on a large quantity of professional soldiers, who had been members of the Valyrian Freehold's Military only a few years before.

[House Tula]

Rhaegar Tula, Above Hull, 1 AD...

"Dracarys!" Rhaegar shouted as the rains blasted against him and he expertly flew over the lines of the smallfolk mob, Bloodfyre unleashing a steady stream of dragonfire upon their ranks.

Rhaegar ignored their screams of pain, rather he wheeled Bloodfyre around for another go, however before he could complete another run upon the smallfolk he paused at the sight of a dragon far larger than Rhaegar's she-dragon. Immediately Rhaegar recognized the majestic beast, it was none other than Ulcrax, the largest dragon in existence now that Valyria was gone in flames. As Ulcrax landed and bathed most of the rioters in fire Rhaegar couldn't help but be appreciative of how destructive the beast was, as he circled the dragon above suddenly a bolt of lightning struck the giant dragon and took away it's life.

"NO!" Rhaegar shouted before urging Bloodfyre down towards the ground, as he drew closer he noted with relief that his Lord was still alive as he rolled off the dead beast and drew his sword at the oncoming crowd of the remaining rioters.

Steering Bloodfyre carefully Rhaegar gave the order in High Valyrian "Dracarys!"

Aiming the flames with as much precision as he could Rhaegar directed them to divide his Lord's position by his dragon and the smallfolk rioters. A few smallfolk got caught in the flames and their screams were a terrifying reminder of what happens when you anger a dragon. As the flames created a wall between the smallfolk and Lord Targaryen Rhaegar brought Bloodfyre down behind it and quickly jumped off his saddle as he moved to his Lord's side and unsheathed his family sword Faithsealer.

"My Lord, are you alright?" Rhaegar asked over the yells of the rioters and the sudden return of the clashing of weapons as Valar's guard began pushing the few remaining rioters away.

[Krugmar]

King Edric Stark 'the Weeping Wolf'
Lonely Hills Camp

---

"With the Boltons defeated, support for their rebellion will quickly wane. With Prince Harlon dealing with the Dustins in the south, only the Red Umbers remain against us here in the north" said Ser Beron, as they all stood around the map located within the King's large tent.

"The Whitehills have surrendered, with Lord Whitehill riding for Winterfell to submit himself to our mercy" said Prince Osric.

"Then I think our purpose is clear, we move up north to join our army with Lord Mors, move on to Karhold and defeat Lars Umber" said Ser Beron, he looked at the king who merely nodded. Edric was weary of the war, and perhaps it was time for him to return to Winterfell and rest.

"I will return to Winterfell, Ser Bryen will come with me while Ser Beron will continue to lead the army with Prince Osric in my absence" Edric said, earning nods from those around him. He rose from his seat and made his way into his personal quarters where he found his servants already packing up his belongings. It seems that the order had already been made by another, though he felt no anger, he was glad to have advisors who understood him so well.

---

Prince Harlon Stark 'the Iron Wolf'
Siege of Barrow Hall

---

He looked at the stump with his left eye, remembering the hand which had once graced it. He wore over his head a large bandage which covered the remnants of his other eye, though it did not cover all of his burns. He pulled on a small leather piece specially designed to go over his stump and made his way outside. It had been a week since his fight with Willam, and he smiled every time he saw the head adorning one of his spikes. He was still rather weak from the ordeal, but had recovered enough to wear most of his armour and make his way outside.

Beron Dustin and a few hundred of his troops had holed up inside Barrow Hall, the rest were dead or had deserted after the town fell. Harlon still had around five thousand troops at his disposal, victory was theirs, the only thing now was to decide how quickly they would attain it.

Harlon made his way over to where his friends and advisors were standing. Lord Glover was looking well, as was Lyanna Stark, but Master Tallhart was nowhere to be seen. "Where is Master Tallhart?" asked Prince Harlon, earning a saddened look from Eorl Tallhart, his son.

"My father moved on last night, his wounds were too great" Eorl said. Harlon had not even noticed that he was wearing the clasp that signified his lordship over Torrhen's Square.

"I am sorry for your loss Eorl, he was a good man" said Prince Harlon, earning a quiet thanks from the lad. Harlon moved forward when he saw Beron enter the ramparts, his whore of a wife standing beside him. "Beron of House Dustin, surrender now or face the wrath of Winter!" shouted Harlon, with a ferocity that renewed the vigour of his men.

"If I surrender, will you spare my life and lands?" asked Beron, ever the opportunist.

"Your life is forfeit traitor, surrender now and your men will live" replied Harlon.

"Why would I agree to your terms boy?" asked Beron, putting a large and insulting emphasis on 'boy'.

"I have no doubt that your men will not want to give their lives for such a lost cause" replied Harlon, noting that many of the Dustin loyalists on the ramparts had been giving each other strange looks. Morale was likely very low on the other side of that wall.

"Open the gate, I will surrender, just don't harm my daughter. My bitch of a wife you can have" said Beron Dustin, making the mistake of turning his back to his wife. Theresa Stout grabbed her husband with a furious swipe and pulled him off the rampart. He screamed the entire way down until landing with a sickening crack as his neck and back broke at the same time. One of the Dustin soldiers moved up and speared Theresa through the gut, before kicking her off the wall to join her husband.

The gate opened and the Dustin men slowly walked through, throwing their weapons down as they surrendered to their victorious foes. Edrik Snow stood next to Harlon, and was angered by the events. "My father was not a good man, but he didn't deserve that, not from that bitch" he said.

"I was hoping to take him alive, to be given a proper and more honourable execution... that will have to do however" said Harlon, issuing orders for some of his men to grab both of the bodies. "Do not harm the Dustin household, Lady Leona will be taken back to Winterfell as a hostage. Edrik Snow, in my capacity as Prince of the North I hereby legitimise you. From this day forward you are Edrik Dustin, Lord of Barrow Hall and Barrowton" he announced, though few were surprised.

Edrik knelt in front of Harlon, swearing before the sights of both gods and men that he would be a true a loyal vassal to the Starks. He led a number of Dustin and Stark troops into the Barrow Hall, intending to clear it out of the bodies and assert his authority as the new lord of the place. Lady Leona walked out, accompanied by a few of her handmaidens, and was led towards a cart that would take her to Winterfell.

"Lord Glover, you and Lyanna will take three thousand men to relieve the siege of Moat Cailin and shore up our borders to the south. I will take the other two thousand back to Winterfell, to make sure that the castle is safe and to await further orders" instructed Prince Harlon, sending them away to gather their troops. There would be no celebration, no drinking tonight, only a hard march to their destinations.

---

Lord Amos Manderly
White Harbour

---

"You want me to fucken' please you?" shouted Lord Amos, angered by the bravado that was being put before him. He was not an easy man to talk to, but was made worse by conflict and anger. "This civil war is nothing more than a simple game for the bloody Boltons and Dustins, one they will soon lose. Our King has more than double their troops, he has the Iron Wolf backing him as well as the Merknight, my nephew. Does that please you, join us if you want or leave my bloody city" he said again, turning to storm out of the tent.

Ser Artos lurched forward, his extreme weight making him look ridiculous in the armour he was wearing. "I apologise for my brother, but he is easily riled by cocky foreigners. If you wish to aid us, take your soldiers down to Oldcastle and help relieve the siege of the place. House Waterman has almost taken the castle from House Locke, so we hear. I'd prefer to get there soon and stop them" he said, moving quickly to chuck a small bag of gold at the foreigners, before waddling out of the tent.

---

Prince Edwyn Stark 'the Black Wolf'
Winterfell

---

"Must you always frown?" asked Wylla Manderly, poking Edwyn's face to his annoyance. He rolled over to get a good look at her, huffing and puffing as he did. She had her hair dyed a garish green, which many found amusing when they saw her, but it only incited Edwyn's passions for her. She was thin, lithe and well defined which was strange for her family considering that most of them were larger than life, so to speak. He could not remember a time when he had not loved her, but it had only been a few months ago when he had plucked up the courage to properly show it, to his surprise she had returned the feeling.

"There is too much to think about" he replied, a strangely honest answer.

"There is a lot more to think about now" she said, clutching her stomach strangely. Edwyn had no idea what she meant, he simply stared at her with a rather confused look upon his face. She rolled her eyes, "Are you that much of a boy?" she asked, pushing the answer into Edwyn's head.

"You are with child?" he asked, his heart racing and his mind flustered.

"I think so, yes" she replied, smiling sweetly at Edwyn before chuckling at the many faces he was going through.

"Then we must get married, at once!" he shouted, bounding out of the bed with a renewed energy and a new reason to go on living.

"Must? Sounds like you don't want to go through with it if you didn't have to" she said, pulling herself out of the bed dressed only in her smallclothes. One of her handmaidens began helping her into a black and green dress, one of her usual outfits.

Edwyn had been busy pulling on all of his gear without the aid of one of his servants, he had no idea where they had gone. "I want to Wylla, and I'm sure that our fathers won't disagree. I'll make sure that they don't" he said, making a promise to her.

"Do you still intend to travel?" she asked, inquiring about his plans to travel to Essos and join one of the sellsword companies for a time.

He nodded, "I have to, for Jon. I will be back eventually, but I'm sure you will be able to cope without me" he said, giving her a rare smile. She walked over to him and grabbed his face with both of her arms.

"You come back to me alive, or I will drag you back from the Seven Hells, or wherever you Starks go" she said, giving him a full kiss. "Now, your father will be back in a few days, make sure to ask him properly" she continued, striding out of the room before Edwyn could reply. He just fell back onto the bed, pushed into a deep think about what had just happened, and what would happen in the future.

---

Ser Lars Umber
Last Hearth

---

Ser Lars rode alongside Lord Mors as the small Umber host moved out, around 200 men ready to face up to two thousand Red Umbers. The force in Karhold was only one thousand, but Lars was hoping that they might be able to convince a number of the other Umbers to defect to their cause. It was a fools gambit, but word had reached them of the victory at the Dreadfort. That meant that the Stark army would be moving north, ready to reinforce them should the assault go on. That gave him hope, and a will to bring justice to his traitorous uncle.

---

Ser Daman Mormont
Northern Mountains

---

Ser Daman had felt completely uncomfortable the entire time he was inside the longhouse. Sat in front of him was Lord Morgan Liddle, known by the clansmen as the Liddle. He was a firm supporter of the Starks and had been chosen by the loyalist clansmen to lead them against the traitors.

"Ser Daman, we stand with the Edric, you know that" said the Liddle, waving a piece of goat leg as he talked with his mouth full.

"Of course my lord, I have merely been sent here to aid you in battle against the traitors. Tell me, how many men do you have?" asked Ser Daman.

"Around 1800 against the two thousand the traitors have. But ah reckon we can win the fight, the traitors don't exactly like each other and will likely turn on each other if the battle goes poorly fer them" he replied. Ser Daman nodded and took another bite of the goat leg he had been given. It did not taste of much, and was rather chewy, but it was good to have something warm fill his belly.

---

Prince Brandon Stark
Hornwood Hills

---

"I cannot wait to show Lord Waterman the price of treason" said Prince Brandon to his companion, the young Lord Cerwyn. Brandon had always been known as the more battle-loving of the two twins, but the rebellion had truly brought out the rage within him.

"Just don't kill all of his men, leaving some for me" joked Lord Cerwyn, one of Brandon and Osrics friends. The twins had been separated for one of the first times in their lives, with Osric heading north with their father while Brandon had been given command of four thousand men and told to defeat the Waterman rebels in the south. He could not tell if it was a punishment or a reward, neither did he truly care. It would only take them a few days to reach Oldcastle, there they would relieve the siege and kill or capture Lord Waterman. Soon the rebellion would be over, perhaps unfortunately considering all Brandon wanted was a good fight.

[Argowry]

Sealord Aerello Maryr, 2 Days, 1 Year AD, The Arsenal of Braavos

The City of Braavos held Three Major Defensive positions before reaching the city, The Titan, The Arsenal, and finally the Citadel. The Arsenal was the key fortress of the city, Stone Battlements bristling with scorpions, trebuchets, and spitfire, below it a innumeraable quays, docks, and seaside wooden sheds housing Hundreds of Galleys and Many Dromonds, Also being the main shipyard of the city, a War Galley could be built in a day there.

Aerello walked along the long quay on the back side of the Arsenal Facing the city, where the "Pride of the Titan" was anchored, the Flagship and Pride of the Braavosi fleet, a massive Dromond with its signature purple hulls. Ballista and Scorpions on deck with also a Ram on at its bow, a monstrous 800 Oar Vessel, built with the strongest wood available, meaning it could in fact take a direct ram blow and continue fighting. That War Galley, in Aerello's opinion should be strike fear and respect across the Narrow Sea.

A few hours later...
Aerello took his seat quietly in the dark room, twenty five other characters sat in the dark room as well, windowless and apparently with a high-ceiling, a large round table was infront of all of them, a single candle sitting in the center, one man appearing frail with age whispered "The Secret Council of the Iron Bank will now come to session,"

All the people, men and women alike with their faces darkened spoke "The Iron Bank will have it's due"

The old man spoke again saying, "War looms around the world, A year since Valyria has fallen, now is our time to profit, the Seven Kingdoms and the Free Cities, then Colonies of Valyria and even some of the Valyrian Dragonlord familes have heard of the Reliability of the Iron Bank, the safety of their wealth here, a well as our willingness to loan. Now War is surrounding the world and they will need coin for thier armies, and here they will find it."

Thoreo Maryr, Lys, 3 Days and 1 Year AD
"It is a pleasure King Galaerion, Now High Priest of R'hollor, thank you for the welcome and allowing my greetings to you" Thoreo said in a pleasant tone, "Congratulations on being selected as the Leader of R'hollor, Flame of Truth," He continued sardonically, "I have been in Lys for the past few days to meet some business partners in the city, as well as have a taste of Lys, I find it's tears as well as their women most appealing." And smiled brightly, his clean, white, shining teeth contrasting with his tan skin but comparing to the white hair he had gotten from his mother."At yourself being named the new High Priest I decided it be best to meet you, a dragonlord that survived the doom , as well as the envoy of the Iron Bank here in Lys too I suppose."