Game of Thrones ~ Legacy (IC)

[New Frenco Empire]

OOC

Maron

"You've never told me, Ser Brandon. You're a knight, but a northerner. Do you keep the Old Gods, or the new?" Maron casually conversed with his sworn brother as they strolled down the hallway. This generation of the Kingsguard (known as the Queensguard since Queen Daenerys took power) was a special lot. All of the great knights from the past fifty years were starting to die off. Sworn brothers who have seen the War of the Five Kings. The Dance of the Two Dragons. The Second Long Night. They were an extinct breed. Now, the best the realm could offer to this brotherhood were green boys. Tourney knights and the sons and nephews of little lordlings who know how to swing a sword at a bandit. They weren't King Robert's corrupt paper shield, though. If anything, they were a great shield of ironwood and steel in the making. Maron had faith in them. He was Lord Commander of the lot, a spot usually reserved for old men with a history of valor. Despite only seeing forty one namedays, Maron assured himself that he would be as good as any before. Brienne of Tarth, Barristan the Bold, the White Bull, Ser Duncan the Tall.

It was daybreak. The queen would be waking up around now and making her way to the Great Hall to sit on the big, ugly chair. She was an old woman now, at eight and sixty, but she was still wonderful. Maron and the rest of her brothers considered it an honor to be tasked with protecting such a beloved monarch. In her old age, they needed to work harder to ensure she was protected. Greedy eyes always looked to the old, thinking them weak and brittle. Maron insisted that three sworn brothers accompany her in her waking hours. Maron even offered to get someone to taste her food, a white brother if necessary, but she would have none of that. She was a good queen and perhaps too good of a woman. She accepted some of Maron's protective measures, though he always got the sense that she did that to appease him and not for the sake of her own life. In her younger years, dealing with the struggles in Slaver's Bay had taught her the ways of psychological warfare and where to place her trust. As she got older, though, she simply didn't care any longer. Some respected her for it, but some still licked their lips in ambition. Or so Oberyn said.

Ser Loran Crassius and Ser Brandon Stark would be accompanying him today. He kept the schedules swapped around to ensure that his brothers were ready for anything at any time of the day. Ser Meric Caron accompanied him yesterday, but he stood guard for the queen last night, standing outside her bedchambers. "Ser Meric." Maron called, his white cloak trailing behind his feet. "My lord." The young knight said, bowing. Maron waved his hand and dismissed him. "Go get some rest, Ser Meric. We'll take it from here." The knight nodded as Maron approached the chamber door. He knocked loudly three times. No response. Odd. The queen was usually up at this time. "Could still be sleeping, my lord. She didn't call in a handmaiden." Ser Meric said. Ser Maron frowned as he knocked again. "My queen?" He asked as he finished. Something wasn't right. The knocking was loud and Daenerys wasn't a heavy sleeper by any means. Her bed was close enough to the door that he should easily be heard.

Maron's heart sank as she didn't even reply to the third set of knocking. Out of instinct, he drew the longsword at his side. The loud, unmistakable cacophony of Valyrian Steel sliding out of it's scabbard. He held the menacing grey-red blade at his side as he pushed open the chamber door slowly. His three sworn brothers behind him, mimicking him with their own swords. "My queen?" He uttered one last time as he eyed the bed. There he saw her. She wasn't in a comfortable position of sleep. She was scattered about her bed haphazardly, as though she struggled with some dream demon. Her nightgown was ripped on one of the shoulder, revealing a little bit of her breast. Her glorious platinum hair flowed carelessly behind her head in an almost intentional fashion. However, the most disturbing part were her eyes. Her deep violet eyes were the most visible feature on her thin, wrinkled face. Those eyes were known for being so full of life. Like her hair, they stayed pretty even into old age.

Now, those exotic purple eyes were staring into Maron's own. Lifeless and cold.

[Kuhlfros]

Ser Brandon

Brandon strode a step behind his Lord Commander, as his white cloak billowed down the hallway, he listened to the casual question from his Lord Commander, to which he replied in suit, "Ser Maron, You have known me since I was sworn into the brotherhood, Yes, I was raised as a Stark of Winterfell and adopted to the Old Ways and the Old Gods, but for me to be a Sworn Brother of the Queen's Guard I would be taking my vows in front of the Sept and the Faith of the Seven, and so, after years of watching and having read about both and observing it... I can come to the conclusion that I don't truly care for the gods as I used too, I will keep to either the Faith or the Old Gods on ceremonial occasions, But...I am no devout man to either faith."

He followed along with Ser Loran to the Queen's bedchambers, after the three knocks and no answer, Ser Brandon was wary of what was on the other side of that door, he drew his longsword, it's pale steel exiting from it's sheath and the engraved silver hilt glimmered in the morning sun (A Kingsguard emblem with the Stark Direwolf in the center), As Maron opened the door, Brandon moved to his left cautiously into the room.

At first glance, Brandon mistook he for still asleep She is an Old Woman, perhaps she needed some rest, but then Brandon's eyes narrowed and he took a sharp intake of breath, His queen's eyes were open, without any sign of life within it, no movement or dilation, Just those violet eyes staring coldly to the ceiling of her room, At the sight of that Brandon could hardly force himself to continue down Daenerys' body to her extremities, Forcing his feeling of guilt and loss aside for the moment, Brandon turned to his younger sworn brother, Ser Meric, Brandon's eyebrows raised questionably at him, This is impossible to be a natural death, something happened here and I will figure out what happened to my Queen, I swear it by Seven Hells.

Rickon

From Rickon's window, He could see all that he accomplished in his 50 years as Lord of Winterfell, When he had returned to his home it was much worse than the massive old castle he left, many towers were collapsed and so was part of the wall that had kept enemies at bay, was crumbling, the castle being ransacked by ironmen, then sacked by Boltons did not help the old keep, Rickon had, once finally settled down to be Lord of Winterfell, ordered for the Repair of all in use towers to their full potential and the scrapping of most of the towers without use and in disrepair, and the usage of those scrapped towers and new pieces to rebuild the walls and upgrade the keep, then, 16 years ago, construction began on the little castle village behind the walls of Winterfell, It became Rickon's quest to turn Winterfell into a populated town beside the massive keep, and Rickon's quest was successful just outside the keep a town was filled with trade sent from all parts of the north and goods of the south. It was nothing compared to the size of even the White Harbor, but what was once a desolate village except for when Winter Comes, Now has citizens through all seasons.

Rickon rose his head from his pillow and glanced out to his pride, He rubbed his eyes and pushed himself from his bed, hobbling to where a hot bath as ready for him. After his bath Rickon dressed in his gray and white Lordly clothing, with a black fur cloak around him, this cloak was actually the pelt of his first Direwolf, Shaggydog, whom after passing away after 10 years, Rickon kept his pelt as his cloak to remember him by. Finally he made his slow way down to the Great hall, where his wife, son, his wife, and their children awaited him, and the smell of succulent roasted boar was invading his nostrils, giving him premonitions of what he felt would be a good day.

[Lorellion]

Hoster

Early morning light danced across the water brilliantly as the sun began to rise. A slight wind brushed across the trees beside the river and ruffled through Hoster Tully's deep red hair. Anyone who claimed that the Riverlands was not beautiful had probably never seen this. Hoster had gotten up early every morning just to see the sun rise every morning since before he could remember. Hoster closed his eyes and breathed in the fresh air that was so hard to find in the cities. Hoster had been to King's Landing numerous times, but he much preferred Riverrun to the loud, dirty city.

Minutes passed before Hoster heard footsteps approaching his balcony. He turned back to see his wife striding up to join him on the balcony. Ever since marrying into a Great House, Deyna had reveled in the silks and the jewels that she could wear. She had gotten up even earlier than him to don a tight purple and white gown with a rather low neckline along with many bracelets, rings, a golden necklace, and a silver circlet. Her black hair had been styled intricately in one of the ways the Queen styled it. Deyna was a very plain woman; she was not necessarily beautiful, but she was also not the ugliest woman Hoster had seen. She often felt the need to make up for her lack of extreme beauty, so she hid behind low necklines and excessive jewelry. Hoster turned around to face her, and was met with a rather angry look.

"Medgar's gone. One of the serving girls told me." She walked forward to stand beside Hoster. "Where in all the seven hells could he be."

Hoster sighed. "Medgar has taken off before. He doesn't like to be cramped up inside the castle."

"But he took Petyr with him! My little boy!"

"Petyr is not a little boy any longer. As long as he is with Medgar, he will be fine."

Deyna acted as if she didn't hear him. "I don't see why he wants to take after Medgar. He has so much potential if he would only listen to Edmyn."

"We can only control our children for so long." He laughed to himself, remembering that his oldest son Edmyn was still firmly under his mother's hand.

Deyna shook her head furiously. "No... No, you need to send men out looking for them. Your father may have restored order to the Riverlands, but they are still unsafe."

"That will only make the problem worse. We will wait a day before we send anyone out looking for them." Deyna's face turned a brilliant shade of red before she turned on her heel and stormed out. The door closed with a rather loud slam, and Hoster winced. He looked out over the river once more. We can only control our children for so long... The Riverlands were his children too. How long would it be before he lost control of them again.

[Delmonte]

Tyrosh Proper
Five Days Before Death

“Young men!” Sirlo boomed from the top of the Archonate Palace’s steps, “Listen to an old man to whom old men listened when he was young! Within our lifetime… we have the ability… to…”

“Restore…”, his son, Giorno whispered out of the corner of his mouth. The absent look in Sirlo’s eyes vanished and he regained his former demeanor. It was as Giorno remembered from his early childhood.

“To restore Tyrosh, Lys, and, indeed, all of Valyria to their former glory! Look around you. Look at what our wealth and hard work have built in our lifetimes alone!”

The crowd beneath them began to gaze around laconically.

“Pillars and columns of the forum to your left; gardens and topiary to your right. And behind you new buildings of governance for the Konseil, in which you make your voice heard! And it has been heard for the last fifty years!”

This was met with cheering and applause. A wind whipped its way from the sea and swirled Sirlo’s long, silver hair around his head like a frantic halo. The men-at-arms that lined the bottom of the steps began slamming the butts of their steel-tipped spears on the ground to signal for silence. It grew steadily quieter. People no longer shouted, but whispered their thoughts on what the Archon might say next in hushed voices over clay jugs of pear brandy.

The wind became entangled in the banners strewn about the plaza depicting a sun rising over a pillar; the emblem of the Republic of Tyrosh.

“I assure you…” he continued, “That the Empire of Valyria will be re-established with us as its conduit. One day all of Essos will fly Tyroshi banners!”

More cheering. The masses are quieted again.

“Across the Giant’s Bridge lies a land waiting for Tyroshi rule and order! And by the strength of our soldiers and the ethic of our citizens, order shall be imposed! Already, Lys flourishes under our care. Under the guardianship of Gandolo, we cannot fail!” A slow, surging rumble issued forth from the crowds that gradually formed itself into words as more and more men, women, and children became in-sync with one another.

“Sirlo, Archon! Sirlo, Archon!” The people shouted while pumping their fists into the air. This time the men-at-arms let them make noise. As the crowd wound down, Sirlo waved to them one last time before turning slowly and re-entering the Palace. Giorno and Darna (Sirlo's wife) followed after him, the latter relying upon a quaint cane. Sirlo prided himself on not needing one.

"An excellent speech, darling. You seem to know precisely what it is they want." She said while adjusting her hair, which had been arranged to spiral upward in High Valyrian fashion.

"Truly a performance to make the Valyrian Emperors envious." His son added, with only a hint of humor.

Sirlo nodded his head, but kept walking.

"Well, this is where I part ways..." Giorno said. He gave his mother a kiss and a hug and made his departure. "The Konseil is voting on military spending today. Very important stuff." He called over his shoulder as he whirled about, his purple cape fluttering behind him. Sirlo was certain that his son had had the cape made of especially light material to enhance this effect, but it would be rude to actually say that. At length they came to the gardens which was where his wife opted to stay. That's good, that she has simple pleasures. thought Sirlo, Sitting in the garden at the cool of the day and listening to the birds while reading a book, perhaps. And then a short nap, of course, to the sound of ripe pears falling from branches. Sirlo's bones ached for the comfort of the garden and for a moment he envied his wife. He continued walking until he reached one of his smaller audience-chambers. There, at least, there was a warm, plush chair and some pear brandy to comfort him. And two of his clerical military advisors, dressed in a style emulative of Old Valyrian garb, and completely clean-shaven (again, out of deference to Valyrian loathing of extravagant facial hair).

They saluted him by crossing their arms over their chests as he sat down. The one was rather a bit young for this post, and the other was rather a bit old. So Sirlo figured that together they about evened out.

"Hail, Archon!" They said, perhaps a bit too emphatically. Then the elder advisor, Gorn Darvath, addressed the Archon at a wave of the latter's hand.

"Archon, as you know, Cairna and Torvan have long been under our influence. This influence has been legitimized in both cases early into your reign. The refurbishment and expansion of the walls at Torvan have been making remarkable progress and are almost complete, and the garrisons in each of these cities are now mostly comprised of the local population, easing strain on our standing army."

"Kesla, on the other hand, has only recently been annexed by the Republic, as you know, and progress has been somewhat slower..."

Sirlo waved his hand. "I know all of these things. Get to the good part."

"Ah, yes..." Gorn went on, "The siege of Telra. The city doesn't really have anything that would make it capable of retaliation, but its walls are quite defensive. Storming it would be inadvisable and it appears to be prepared to outlast a siege, during which it believes that the Myrish will come to its aid."

Sirlo nodded. "A wise move, in all likelihood. However, Myr does not have a standing army like our Republic does. They'll have to hire mercenaries. That will take time, and I can pay the mercenaries they hire to give us more time. They can invent excuses such as being over-extended or their wagons rotting and the like. Meanwhile Telra goes another month without food. Tell Benotto that I'll be sending him extra gold towards this purpose. I believe that that will be enough for now, don't you?" He sipped his pear brandy.

"Yes, Archon!" They said, saluted, and then left Sirlo at peace with his thoughts and the brandy he needed to wash them down.

[Givious]

Kings Landing, Red Keep, Chamber of the Queen, Ser Loran Crassius

Ser Loran's heart drops as he sees the Queen. She was healthy, almost young for her age. This death was not natural, or else possibly the grandmaseter had been feeding her milk of the poppy and she had taken too much. Loran quick exits the room, grabbing a guard.

"Get the Grandmaester and High Septon; also round up the members of the small council. Find my grandfather and the Hand of the King first and bring him here, take the rest to the Small Council chamber. HURRY! And by the Seven where is my cousin!

Kings Landing, Tourney Grounds, Ser Aegon Crassius

The steeds charged towards eachother as the glint of steel could be seen in the early morning. Both riders bore armor with dragons upon it; one red and one black. Both steeds are at full charge as the two riders clash, a massive roar tears apart the early morning silence as the two lances shatter against the other rider. Both rear back against the blows, but neither being unhorsed. As both begin to turn on their horses to face eachother, Rhaegar and his three whores can be heard from stands clapping for his two family members. Darkstar and Aegon both remove their helms, riding towards each other. Darkstar looks towards his arm, a sliver of the lance in his forearm.

"Still... I cannot unhorse you. How many jousts has it been now?"

"Nine... Nine tourneys without a single loss. I still look for the man who can unhorse me."

"Just wait Aegon, Once this arrowhead is not crippling me I will!" Rhaegar yells from the stands. Suddenly a runner comes into the tourney grounds, bringing with his black news... the queen is dead. Both of the riders break for the city, Rhaegar hobbling behind.

[The Huskar Social Union]

Evanfall Hall, Tarth, a few hours before the events in Kings Landing

Lord Steffon Clayworth

Steffon had awoken earlier this morning, a series of nightmares and dreams had caused him to dip in and out of sleep making him restless and so in order to not disturb his wife Cynthea from her own sleep he left their chambers and headed for his Study room to occupy himself. He was escorted by a handful of guards who he left by the door, not wanting to be disturbed, he preferred to read and write in solitude in the mornings. He had positioned himself by a long table made of solid oak next to the main window where he had a view of the castle grounds and the sea beyond. He looked down at the series of books on the left hand side of the table and grabbed the one at the top of the pile to continue where he left off last night.

"The War of the Five Kings, A collection of accounts and notes by Maester Hareth of the Citadel"

History was one of his favourite subjects to read and discuss with others, so he had recently occupied himself with studying the war of the five kings, a brutal long war that took place across the kingdoms some fifty years past. He flicked through the pages to the section where he was at and continued reading.

"299 AC, Battle of the Blackwater. After successfully removing his brother as a threat, through methods that are to this day still unknown but considered by many to be heinous regardless. Stannis Baratheon First of his Name had marshaled together his own personal army with that of the Stormlands Levies that he acquired from his brother Renly's forces and marched north towards the capital through the Kings Wood, intent on delivering a swift and brutal end to the conflict by seizing the Iron Throne. At the same time, his Naval forces, lead by ser Imry Florent, the brother of Stannis' Wife Selyse, advanced around the coast of the Stormlands towards Blackwater bay to commence a joint land and naval assault on the city.

Boasting a total of 20,000 men and over 200 ships Stannis was destined to seize the city and emerge victorious against the forces of House Lannister-

He was cut off as he heard the door open.

"Guard, i said i wished to be left alone" he called as he turned to see his Brother Yonel standing in the opened door way.

"Thought i would come and see you before i set off" He said, before closing the door behind him. "The guards said you were inside and that once again you had a hard time sleeping, you really should talk to the Maester about that"

"Im fine, just been distracted of late" He replied as he gestured his brother forward.

"Distracted indeed, this has been the forth day now in a row where you can barely sleep, you should look at your face, you look like you are in your fifties in stead of your thirties. Once your done reading go see the maester, he can give you something to calm you down and let you get some rest. We dont need you worrying yourself to death."

His brother was fully dressed for this early time, he wore a dark leather tunic with strands of gold laced throughout its surface, he adorned himself with a large white and yellow cloak bearing the family colours, which was held in place by a metal clasp across his chest that resembled a horse, their family sigil. He wore a set of dark brown leggins with similar stands of gold and white across its surface. Unlike himself his brother dressed much more suitably for his position as a member of a noble family. Steffon wore non stand out more common clothing as he was much more comfortable in them.

"Dont worry about me, i will be fine, now is not my time to die. You should worry about yourself, Kings Landing is a dangerous place"

"Dangerous? brother i will have twenty men with me at all times, as you instructed, its not as if i will walk into flea bottom on my own blindfolded. Also lovely attitude to take in regards to your health" His brother retorted as he walked over to the window, gazing outside.

"It does not matter where you go whilst in the city, i believe bad times are ahead, just watch yourself" He stood up from his table and closed the book once more, he turned around to face his brother. "That is why i have been restless sleeping, i cant shake this feeling something bad will happen soon, and i dont know to whom"

His brother turned to look at him, "I will be fine, how many times to i have to tell you that, and in case you noticed bad things happen all the time, dont trouble yourself over them. Because there is nothing you can do about alot of them. Now before i left, i wanted to talk to you about something, and i have a feeling you wont like it"

"What is it?" He asked.

"I want you to legitimize Wylla as a member of this family"

"That is not happening and you know it" he said as he turned away from his brother.

"Why not? She gets along well with everyone here, the kids like her, your wife likes her and she is my daughter-

"But she is not Yonel, she is just some lowborn girl you found on a ship one day. If she actually had your blood i might consider it but she does not. Its off the table"

His brother just laughed, "some lowborn girl? im sorry do you not remember where out family comes from? hmm? Our father was a mercenary turned warlord who conquered an island and made himself a noble, he was lowborn so why cant she become a member of our family? Im tired of seeing her as the outcast not allowed to be in the hall when ever someone important arrives, always dismissed by you when it ever people talk about her. I want her to stand next to us as the same. Because she is. She has the same roots as we do" He turned to leave and walked towards the door, but he turned at the last moment.

"Just remember that, and think about it. Ill see you in a few days time" And with that he left. Steffon let out a sigh and sat back down on his chair, this was not what he need today, but his brother was right.

Not that long later a ship set sail from Tarth flying the sigil of House Clayworth as it sailed north to Kings Landing, the weather was good so it would not take that long to arrive.

[Logistica Suprema]

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

It was in Garlan's habit to awaken every morning to practice swordplay with his brother, to cross their swords high, low, and high again. But he also took up the habit of his uncle, his namesake, in which he fought three or four men at once to fight in the manner men fight in the field.

But on this morning, when all seemed normal, it was not. A girl came to him as he readied in his solar, one of his spies, her long cinnamon hair unburdened by the speed of her stride. It was long and upright, as was the formal fashion of Queen Daenerys, and Garlan recognized the insignia she wore on her breast. Sworn into the plain clothing was the icon of the dragon, three-headed, crimson and full of malice. Targaryen.

"M'lord," the girl said. She dropped into a curtsy to maintain appearance, as she was a servant and he a lord, but Garlan valued her much more highly than he valued normal servants.

"My lord," Garlan said. He could not bear unintelligence, but he believed this girl smart enough to learn how to speak properly.

My lord," the girl said back, speaking slowly. Garlan smiled at her and nodded. She smiled back, blushing. "Mi--my lord, I've not been called by Her Grace this morning. She has never taken this long to come, and she was tired last night. It might be that--"

"Say no more, sweet girl," Garlan said. "Go now, go about your normal duties. You can read and write, I trust?"

"Yes, my lord," the girl said, and she spoke flawlessly. "I've been helped by a septa, a nice septa in truth, and I can read and write the basics. How may I be of service to you now, my lord?"

"As I said, go about your normal duties," Garlan said, "but write to me if you hear anything of interest and I am not about. Give the note to the guard at the door and say Valar Dohaeris. Say it back to me. Valar Dohaeris."

"Valar Dohaeris," the girl said, and Garlan smiled and nodded again. The girl turned a deep red.

"Go now, sweet girl," Garlan said. "Go and spy. But be subtle about it." The girl curtsied and left, crimson. Garlan smiled to himself, relishing in how easy it was to manipulate people. He was so very good at it.

He sat down at his solar after removing the small bits of armor he had donned. He took out parchment, tossed sand over it, and dipped his quill in ink. He had a bit of manipulating to do across the sea, to Braavos.

Lady Margaery Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

She had donned a long dress of green, with dagged sleeves that pushed against the floor. Her thick hair, long enough to reach the small of her back, was bound in a tower in the fashion of Queen Daenerys. Her cloak, a darker shade of green, bore workings of silver thread. A golden chain held it, and in the center of that golden chain was the Tyrell rose.

"You look beautiful, my lady," Alerie Oakheart said. She had seduced the heir of House Rowan with her buxom chest and full lips. She was five years Rowan's junior, and three years Margaery's, but she was good--oh, she was very good. Margaery had set her aside for a noble boy for a reason.

"Indeed, radiant even," Tanda said. She was from the Crownlands, a maid of little repute. Her House was Cardon, but the head of House Cardon was an aged knight without land, without a son, and with only a granddaughter, himself too poor for a dowry. Sending Tanda to court had been the only hope, and he had managed to use the favor he had won with the queen to allow her in. Now, Margaery had employed her into seducing the heir of House Stokeworth with her billowing blond hair and misty blue eyes.

"My ladies, I am not beautiful," Margaery said. She was comely, but not beautiful, for indeed that was Olenna. She understood how attractive she was and, in turn, spent her time focusing on increasing her sphere of influence not through her beauty but through her wits.

"My lady--" Alerie began, but Margaery held her hand up for silence.

"I am not beautiful," Margaery said. "No more of that madness. Now, come. We have a court to make ours."

Lady Olenna Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

She was dressed in a flowering gown of silver, so thin that a razor's shear could have peeled it away. A large golden rose was sown into her breast, the cloth-of-gold mingling nicely with the silver silk. In her hair she wore a crystal in the shape of a seven-pointed star, a gift from the High Septon himself.

Olenna fixed the crystal's position and made her way to the balcony. Loras was fighting in the yard, surrounded by Tyrell men-at-arms. Garlan was no where to be found, but sometimes that was the norm and Olenna brushed it off. She was instead absorbed by Loras, the way he caught a spear with a parry from his shield, driving his dulled sword into the head of one of the guards.

He backed off, feigning death, and Loras circled to catch the blade of another guard. He circled that blade away, then spun swiftly on his heel to bring his sword down on the spearmen. The spearmen caught the edge of his sword with the shaft of his spear, but Loras brought his shield up and took him sideways in the skull. The spearmen staggered away, but was mostly unharmed. Loras then turned abruptly, remembering the two swordsmen behind him, and only just as he turned did he raise his sword.

It was a weak parry that saved him, but then another dulled edge was advancing on his ribs and he was forced to turn to parry properly. The other swordsman, seeing Loras turned to him, aimed to cut downwards upon him--but Loras raised his shield and, in one deft movement, stepped into the man and his sword struck his plate. It did not pierce it, as it was dulled, but it would have had it been sharpened.

With three of the men discarded, Loras turned on the four and finished him like a cat finished a trapped mouse. It was quick work, and Loras looked about when he was finished. His eyes caught Olenna's, and she smiled at him. He only returned a curt nod, and then he was back at his work.

Olenna, resigned, returned back into her chambers with a sigh. Her twin was growing ever more fixated on combat. She would have to make up for it in court, but winning him friends. She would win them both a good friend today.

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Garlan had just finished his work, the raven taking flight across the Narrow Sea, when the guard came to him. He was a thick-set man, and he spoke with an aggravatingly bad accent. "M'laurd," he said, and Garlan raised his hand. He could not suffer to hear that butchery of language.

"Just tell me where to go," Garlan instructed. "In as few words as possible."

"Small council," the man said, and it was a miracle he iterated that correctly. Garlan gave a curt nod and departed. He snapped at two Tyrell men-at-arms to follow him from the base of his tower. On could never know what was about to happen at the meeting.

[Nuxipal]

Ixidor Bloodfyre
En Route to Kingslanding, Blackwater Bay

Never have the Bloodfyres spent time in Kingslanding. Unless you count the time when Ixidor's father Rhaegar had briefly been there as an infant. The Bloodfyre family was raised on the isle of Elyria in Slaver's Bay. While the family they were originally with tried to instill the Faith of the Seven, as instructed by Daenerys it wasn't always possible. Ixidor himself was not a believer in the Seven, preferring the Valyrian gods that the other people of Elyria called their own. His sister on the other hand, had accepted the Andal Faith and was allowed a Septa to help her with this choice of faith.

Ixidor had brought much of his personal fleet with them. He planned to meet the woman who was his Grandmother. She had stopped visiting Elyria sometime after his father died. Since that time the Bloodfyre family had grown in wealth and strength. Ixidor stood on the deck, in the distance the Red Keep, his grandmother's home, was visible. "Vaekar, that castle up ahead. That is where we will be staying. Things will be better here in Westeros. And if not, well we can always go back to Elyria. We have the coin to do so, and if we are lucky, we could hire mercenaries to make us the overlords of Elyria."

Vaekar laughed at this, "Ah Ixidor, you always have a backup plan don't you? Perhaps we can get some kind of major settlement in Westeros. One with gold and riches." Ixidor thought on it, "That would be useful. Besides we have quite a few Valyrian Artifacts, including not only your sword but one other that was found in the ruins."

The other sword they were talking about was less of a sword than its seemed. It was only the blade of a Valyrian greatsword. No hilt, no pommel, just blade. "That other sword is useless in a fight, but we could find a Westerosi House to sell it to. I understand several houses do not have a family sword and would be in the market to obtain one."

It took several more hours, but the flagship was docked in the Harbor, while the other ships were waiting off shore to be given a place to land in the harbor. Ixidor, Vaekar, and Aelix made their way first to the shipyard master to buy out the space for 20 ships for the foreseeable future, then decided to make their way up towards the Red Keep. They asked the guards to send a messenger that House Bloodfyre from Elyria had arrived to see Queen Daenerys.

[Lorellion]

Grand Maester Brynden Tully

Grand Maester Brynden leafed through the book sitting open on his desk idly. The book was titled Dragonlore and was written by none other than Tyrion Lannister. Rumor had it that Tyrion wrote it shortly before being kidnapped by slavers, but the manuscript was saved by Jon Connington who brought it back to Westeros. The book was one of Brynden's favorites, and he had read it more than a few times. Eventually, his concentration dwindled substantially and he closed the book and returned it to the shelf. Brynden's quarters were large and drafty, but the immense amount of scrolls, books, and medicines made the room seem a lot smaller. Brynden stepped over numerous books and papers to reach the balcony that looked over Blackwater Bay.

Queen Daenerys had summoned him the previous night and said she had been feeling ill and now was having trouble sleeping. Brynden offered her some milk of the poppy, but the queen refused. Brynden had stayed with the queen until she fell asleep before telling her handmaidens to send for him if anything changed. When he returned to his quarters, he tossed and turned wondering what was wrong with the queen. Sure she seemed young and spritely, but she was getting older and had no heirs... And if she died, chaos would ensue. Brynden pushed those morbid thoughts from his head, closed his eyes, and felt a slight breeze ripple through his hair. Unlike many of the other Grand Maesters who came before him, Brynden was not old, white-haired, feeble minded, and senile. Brynden was a man of two and fifty, was quite tall and fit for his age, and had one of the brightest minds that had ever come out of the Citadel. Brynden had deep red hair and a long, bushy red beard that had earned him the name, "Grand Maester Redbeard."

Brynden heard the door open behind him and forced him from his revelry. A messenger stepped into Brynden's study and spoke very quietly. "The small council is convening... Your presence is requested."

Of course my presence is requested! I'm part of the small council. Besides it was more like, "If you don't show up, you will regret it." That's how things work in King's Landing, he thought to himself. "Of course. I shall head there straight away." As he left his study, he wondered what was so urgent for this early in the morning.

[The Black Plains]

Sarlon Vaal gazed over the windswept plains outside of Myr. His men were not allowed inside the city, which was completely reasonable because they would sack it, so they had to camp outside the city's walls. Fortunately there was a creek that ran between a series of hills that made this place perfect for camping. Sarlon had, obviously, claimed the highest hill for his tent. It picked up a lot of wind here, so his tent flap made fluttering noises behind him. He stood just in front of it, the tip of his sword an inch in the dirt, passing the pommel back and forth between his hands. The sounds of an afternoon in a mercenary camp, in this case pots, pans, and giggling whores, could be heard rising up from the creek-valley below.

He turned to his page.

"Boy, go to the harbor in Myr. Put out the word that the contract of the Shining Sons has expired and we are looking for employment, on this continent or another."

The page ran off to do his master's bidding. Sarlon watched his Heavy Cavalry, the Burning Sons, drill at the foot of the hill below him." His cavalry commander, a Braavosi by the name of Bulari Denoterri wheeled around in front them and shouted, "What's wrong with you lot?! I say flank right and instead you break right?! This is an army, not a village horse race!"

The men stopped their horses and became visibly upset.

"That's enough." Sarlon said, softly, from his vantage point. His voice carried quite well. His commander backed off and continued the drills. It was planned for these sorts of things to happen. It aided the structure of the army for the commanders to be hated and feared and the Captain to be respected and loved. Punishments were handed out by his officers. Rewards, reprieves, and pay were handed out by him. As long as he was loved and the commanders drew power from him, the men wouldn't lynch their officers. And as long as his officers were feared and hated, he could afford to be loved and respected.

He glanced back at the walls of Myr. If nobody hired them, well, he might just sack it anyway.

[The Huskar Social Union]

Kings Landing, Yonel Clayworth, Same time as Death

Yonel stood on the prow of the ship as it came into the docks along the opening of the Blackwater rush, the large river that flowed into the bay of the same name. As usual there was a vast collection of ships along the docks, large cargo vessels, smaller fishing ships, a few war galleys from the Royal navy bearing the sigil of House Targaryen, the mighty three headed Dragon upon a field of Black, as well as the sigils of a few other noble houses which commanded their own naval forces. The air was full of various scents from the different ships in the docks, he could smell spices, fish, wine and many other things as they were being off loaded or loaded onto the ships for transport. His Journey had been relatively calm, the seas were still and the skies were clear allowing for a pleasant trip. Yonel had come to the capital for one purpose, to meet an old associate of his who had recently returned from Myr and had contacted him with the proposal of buying some artifacts he had acquired in his travels. Yonel had acquired quite the collection of relics and was always interested in finding more.

As the ship pulled up to one of the empty piers he and his guard, numbering twenty of the household guard formed up along the side waiting for the gangway to be lowered. As the sailors got to work tying the vessel to the pier he spotted an interesting vessel further down the docks on the port side. A mighty war vessel of an eastern design, bearing crimson sails adorned with a blue dragon head against a black sun, the crew on board adorned in similar colours. As he stepped down on the pier itself, flanked by his guards, he saw even more ships in the bay bearing similar banners and sails, he wondered who they belonged to.

After talking to the closest harbor master over the dock fee and similar matters he signaled his guards and off they went, heading up the steps into the heart of the city towards the markets, the banners adorned with the sigil of his house, the red stallion blowing in the wind behind him.

Evanfall Hall, Tarth, Steffon Clayworth, Same time as death

After finishing his Study session Steffon exited his private room and headed down to the main hall for breakfast flanked by a pair of guards, he decided it was time to make an appearance or his wife would worry about him as well, and he did not need that. His Brother, Cook and Maester were enough to worry about. He entered the Hall through one of the side entrances near the main door. His family was seated at the far end of the hall at the main table enjoying their meal, he dismissed his guards and headed over to them. His Wife Cynthea rose to welcome him and he greeted her with a kiss before he sat down. One of the nearby servants brought him over a plate of various meets and breads with a glass of water.

"You were gone again this morning" His wife said,
"I was not tired, decided to do some reading, i left off at a chapter i was deeply interested in last night and wanted to finish it"He replied " I did not want to wake you so i did not say anything"
"This is the third night, im beginning to worry about you. If you are having trouble sleeping you should tal-
"Yes i know, talk to the maester, Yonel reminded that this morning before he left, i keep being reminded about it. Im fine really, im feeling a lot better this morning than i was yesterday."

He quickly went to change the topic and turned to his son Alesander who sat opposite him. "What has Reginald got planned for you today?"
His son looked up from his plate and said"Crossbow training again, for the first few hours, then single combat using pole arm weaponry. In order to prepare us in the case we are part of a spear formation and get cut off"
"Pole arms, i loved using those when i was younger, some of my favourite weapons" He replied, but then he forgot who he was next to and made the mistake of muttering "But i fucking hate crossbows" And received a prompt slap the back of the head by his spouse which received a lot of laughter at the table from his children and those near by. "Watch your language in front of the children"

"Im going to get you back for that" He reminded her, but all she did was smile and say "I would like to see you try, im still capable of knocking you on your back, and you wont lift a finger to me" He smiled back, maybe today would be a good day, and his fears were unfounded.. but something else said otherwise.

[Arlye Austros]

The Red Keep, King´s Landing.
Lord Vardis Hardyng-Stark, Master of Laws


Vardis had just awaken and had started eating his baked potatoes and a small slice of dry meat. He had grown fat since he came to King´s Landing five years before, he would have to do some exercise. Walking was not good anymore.
She moved in between the sheets, Vardis turned.

“What time is it?” The whore asked. She had blond hair, but her face was twisted. According to her, she had been kicked by her husband before he was killed in a bar brawl. Whatever the case was, out of the scars, she was pretty, and Vardis didn´t really cared.

“Time for you to leave.” He searched in a purse over the wooden table, not even caring to look at her. Two silver coins his hand reached out and he tossed them over the bed. She grabbed them, why wouldn´t she? “And try not to make a scandal on your way out, my guards will see you make it safe back to the Shadowblack.” She took her clothes and covered herself before crossing the door. One of his guards escorted her, he wouldn´t see her again.

The castle already knew of her habits. Of course, the Queen disliked it, he understood why. But as he explained to her, the loss of his wife gave grief to his life, even six years after. They had tried desperately to have more children. He tried because she seemed to look after it. When it became evident her body was too old to have more babies she descended into madness. One night she was not in his chamber.

He was called to King´s Landing months later. Arguably, it was Robert who arranged it. According to him, he needed to get out of The Vale, to do something with his grief, for his children. They all travelled, and after a small talk to his Queen, she accepted him as Master of Laws, although in time the sexual appetite he had developed years earlier became an awful burden he needed to satisfy. He remembered his guilt the first time he walked into a whorehouse. His memories were tearing his skull while they tore the bed apart together. In time, it was as drinking ale to him, helping him to forget, or remember, it didn´t really made any difference to him. Of course, his children disliked him because of that.

They knocked the door.

“Lord Vardis.” His guard, Ryman, spoke as he pushed the good gently. He passed in a letter which he reached for without even rising from his seat, and then the guard closed the door.

<<You are hereby summoned to the Small Council Meeting to take place immediately.>> he read the important part. In his five years as Lord Master of Laws he had learnt to distinguish important sections of a text with a single look. Of course, if he needed to see things in between lines, hidden interests or objectives, he would have to read through the whole text, but usually the Red Keep was a safe place for plots, at least to his own experience. Of course there were people plotting, but he didn´t really cared.
He stood up and dressed, not before using slight amounts of perfumes to cover the smell of sex. He grabbed his sword and his cape of grey-blue wool finished his preparations. In minutes he was walking towards the Small Council Chamber.

[The United Realms Of Lords and Paradox]

Small Council chamber
Brynden Valenvareth
Brynden had been Up before the Sun delving deep Into Master of coins book, He was looking at Past Investment that Where about to pay out. As the Morning advanced He started to work out Incoming and outgoing in the royal treasury, his Midas touch when dealing with Numbers and gold made treasury Healthy with Money. A knock at the door stop all this and provided a distraction” Evermoure Can you See who is at the door? ” Man in suit of armour moves out of the shadows towards the door, as the door opens messenger Spoke up” Lord Valenvareth Is summoned to the Small Council Meeting to take place immediately” as He finished the messenger was gone.
“Brother, The Small Council is Meeting “Brynden thought over it, why a meeting so early he turned to face his brother”Evermoure stay Outside with some of Our Guards, I have a bad feeling about this”

[Givious]

Ser Aegon Crassius
Streets of Kings Landing/The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon's Destrier tears through the streets. People move to the side as the armored stead pushes people aside. Aegon has to quickly divert his horse as some eastern men step into the street from the docks yelling "MOVE!" he rides through. Upon reaching the Red Keep he quickly dismounts, running towards the entrance. He grabs the head of the Targaryen Household Guard; Rhogar Vesquisos.

"Other than the small council, no one enters or exits. UNDERSTAND?!"

"Aye, m'lord. GUARDS! Lock the gates and man the keep!"

As Aegon enters the Red Keep Dorivan and Rhaegar, who had jumped on Dorivan's horse, grab their swords and stand with the guards. Aegon tears through the halls, rushing past Lord Tyrell. As he comes across the Grandmaester he grabs him by his chain and pushes him against the wall.

"By the Seven what did you give her! Who did you tell? Did you tell anyone the truth?" Before he can answer Thygar appears in the hallway, grabbing his grandson with his crippled hands he pulls him away.

" Loran!" Thygar yells at the Queensguard as he turns the corner to figure out what the commotion was. He runs to his Grandfather and cousin's side. "Take Aegon and the Grandmaester to her chamber. The Hand should meet you there, I will deal with the Small Council."

Aegon rushes to the chamber, upon seeing the Queen's body falling to his knees. As he begins to cry, he crawls on his knees towards the bedside, whispering slowing "Why.... Why her? Why my gran...." Most of it is inaudible to many of the others. Loran looks towards the Grandmaeser, being calm.

"Did you give her anything last night Grandmaester?" His hand is on his blade, although it is not out of its sheath.

Thygar Crassius
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Thygar, before going to the small council chamber, enters his chambers. The young Ser Daradon Stauton and Ser Jacken Hayford, both heirs of their respective houses, wait for the elderly man. Grabbing a scroll, he begins to scribble down a message on it. After a minute of silence, with both of the men looking very confused, Thygar pulls out a seal and pours wax on the documents. He presses it with the seal, the seal of House Targaryen. He hands the messages to the men, looking each in the eye.

"Deliver these to Hayford and Rook's Rest. As you travel to Rook's Rest, Daradon, deliver these copies to Rosby and Duskendale; make sure House Blackwater sees this. Jacken, travel to Stokeworth before Hayford; we need all the men we can. Once you have reached Hayford travel to the Riverlands, first Darry, then onto Riverrun. Daradon, once you reach Rook's Rest travel onto Crackclaw. We need all banners to... pay homage to our queen. Tell no one."

The men look shocked as they now heard the news. Thygar waves them on, giving them the last orders to take five Crassius men at arms each. Fly no banner until arriving at the city or castle. With this they were off, showing a seal to the Commander of the Guard that allowed them to leave. They quickly leave the city, dressed in cloak covering their armor and sigils. With this, Thygar goes to the small council chamber... prepared for what was to come. He has his personal guard, Vondrik Dorasko, stand outside the room. These were dangerous times...

[Logistica Suprema]

Ixidor Bloodfyre
En Route to Kingslanding, Blackwater Bay

(Image)

Never have the Bloodfyres spent time in Kingslanding. Unless you count the time when Ixidor's father Rhaegar had briefly been there as an infant. The Bloodfyre family was raised on the isle of Elyria in Slaver's Bay. While the family they were originally with tried to instill the Faith of the Seven, as instructed by Daenerys it wasn't always possible. Ixidor himself was not a believer in the Seven, preferring the Valyrian gods that the other people of Elyria called their own. His sister on the other hand, had accepted the Andal Faith and was allowed a Septa to help her with this choice of faith.

Ixidor had brought much of his personal fleet with them. He planned to meet the woman who was his Grandmother. She had stopped visiting Elyria sometime after his father died. Since that time the Bloodfyre family had grown in wealth and strength. Ixidor stood on the deck, in the distance the Red Keep, his grandmother's home, was visible. "Vaekar, that castle up ahead. That is where we will be staying. Things will be better here in Westeros. And if not, well we can always go back to Elyria. We have the coin to do so, and if we are lucky, we could hire mercenaries to make us the overlords of Elyria."

Vaekar laughed at this, "Ah Ixidor, you always have a backup plan don't you? Perhaps we can get some kind of major settlement in Westeros. One with gold and riches." Ixidor thought on it, "That would be useful. Besides we have quite a few Valyrian Artifacts, including not only your sword but one other that was found in the ruins."

The other sword they were talking about was less of a sword than its seemed. It was only the blade of a Valyrian greatsword. No hilt, no pommel, just blade. "That other sword is useless in a fight, but we could find a Westerosi House to sell it to. I understand several houses do not have a family sword and would be in the market to obtain one."

It took several more hours, but the flagship was docked in the Harbor, while the other ships were waiting off shore to be given a place to land in the harbor. Ixidor, Vaekar, and Aelix made their way first to the shipyard master to buy out the space for 20 ships for the foreseeable future, then decided to make their way up towards the Red Keep. They asked the guards to send a messenger that House Bloodfyre from Elyria had arrived to see Queen Daenerys.

Lord Commander Randyll-Dickon Tarly
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Lord Commander Randyll-Dickon Tarly, brother of the Lord Tarly, was awakening from the comatose nature of a drunken night. He was not apt to get drunk, but did so on occasion, if only to relieve the stress of his duty. He had three thousand men to manage, three thousand men to train, three thousand men to make ready for the worst.

The loud banging on the door did not please Ser Randyll, as he went by to his comrades. "What?" he snapped through the door, and his great chest swelled with the noise of the shout. The large muscles in his arm coiled, straining to contain the anger. He wanted to sleep, Seven damn the rest!

"M'laurd," a stuttering man said, "you've been summoned t' the small council. An urgent matter." And then, in a lower voice, the guard said, "'er Grace is dead."

"Tell them to wait on damned minute," Ser Randyll replied, absorbing the news nonchalantly, and he snatched up clothes from his wardrobe. He had a squire--Seven help the boy, where in all of Westeros was he?--but he could dress himself. It did not do well, he knew, for the Reach to be seen as a great burly man swinging himself about like an ape. He dressed in appropriate, if not fashionable, attire, wearing the gold cloak of his order and carrying their short sword on a fine surcoat and leggings.

The man banging on his door had evidentially left him, but more banging came. "My lord, my lord," the voice said through the door, and Ser Randyll knew it was his squire, Garth Osgrey. Damned boy, he was always late.

"What, boy?" Ser Randyll asked, but he was not half so loud. He did not say it often, but he liked the boy. He was straight-forward and knew his place. Good traits for a squire. Maybe one day the boy could take up the gold cloak and rise through the ranks to take the place Ser Randyll held.

"Men have arrived at the gate asking for entry," Garth said. "They claim to be from House Bloodfyre, of Elyria."

"Who the fuck is a Bloodfyre? Where the fuck is Elyria?" Ser Randyll asked, but he disregarded the motion. "Run to Ser Creston Moore. You know, my second. Take him to the Bluefyres--Bloodfyres--and tell him to escort them to some noble chambers we have empty. The queen is ill, so they'll have to wait some time."

[Logistica Suprema]

Ser Aegon Crassius
Streets of Kings Landing/The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon's Destrier tears through the streets. People move to the side as the armored stead pushes people aside. Aegon has to quickly divert his horse as some eastern men step into the street from the docks yelling "MOVE!" he rides through. Upon reaching the Red Keep he quickly dismounts, running towards the entrance. He grabs the head of the Targaryen Household Guard; Rhogar Vesquisos.

"Other than the small council, no one enters or exits. UNDERSTAND?!"

"Aye, m'lord. GUARDS! Lock the gates and man the keep!"

As Aegon enters the Red Keep Dorivan and Rhaegar, who had jumped on Dorivan's horse, grab their swords and stand with the guards. Aegon tears through the halls, rushing past Lord Tyrell. As he comes across the Grandmaester he grabs him by his chain and pushes him against the wall.

"By the Seven what did you give her! Who did you tell? Did you tell anyone the truth?" Before he can answer Thygar appears in the hallway, grabbing his grandson with his crippled hands he pulls him away.

" Loran!" Thygar yells at the Queensguard as he turns the corner to figure out what the commotion was. He runs to his Grandfather and cousin's side. "Take Aegon and the Grandmaester to her chamber. The Hand should meet you there, I will deal with the Small Council."

Aegon rushes to the chamber, upon seeing the Queen's body falling to his knees. As he begins to cry, he crawls on his knees towards the bedside, whispering slowing "Why.... Why her? Why my gran...." Most of it is inaudible to many of the others. Loran looks towards the Grandmaeser, being calm.

"Did you give her anything last night Grandmaester?" His hand is on his blade, although it is not out of its sheath.

Thygar Crassius
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Thygar, before going to the small council chamber, enters his chambers. The young Ser Daradon Stauton and Ser Jacken Hayford, both heirs of their respective houses, wait for the elderly man. Grabbing a scroll, he begins to scribble down a message on it. After a minute of silence, with both of the men looking very confused, Thygar pulls out a seal and pours wax on the documents. He presses it with the seal, the seal of House Targaryen. He hands the messages to the men, looking each in the eye.

"Deliver these to Hayford and Rook's Rest. As you travel to Rook's Rest, Daradon, deliver these copies to Rosby and Duskendale; make sure House Blackwater sees this. Jacken, travel to Stokeworth before Hayford; we need all the men we can. Once you have reached Hayford travel to the Riverlands, first Darry, then onto Riverrun. Daradon, once you reach Rook's Rest travel onto Crackclaw. We need all banners to... pay homage to our queen. Tell no one."

The men look shocked as they now heard the news. Thygar waves them on, giving them the last orders to take five Crassius men at arms each. Fly no banner until arriving at the city or castle. With this they were off, showing a seal to the Commander of the Guard that allowed them to leave. They quickly leave the city, dressed in cloak covering their armor and sigils. With this, Thygar goes to the small council chamber... prepared for what was to come. He has his personal guard, Vondrik Dorasko, with him in the room with ten guards along with the Targaryen Household guard around the chamber. These were dangerous times...

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon Crassius, Garlan thought as the man rushed past him. He was distraught, mad out of his wits. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong. He finds the death too moving.

Garlan turned abruptly on his heel, then made way to find Lord Commander Randyll. Madness had already slipped into Aegon Crassius, the kind of madness that drives men to do wild things. Thygar Crassius was the wiser sort of man, but still prone to the same madness, and Garlan wanted to take no risks.

He came across Lord Commander Randyll on his way to the small council meeting. "My lord," the Lord Commander said, bowing. "How are you this morn?"

"You know, I trust," Garlan said. His tone turned grave, and the Lord Commander--whom stood above even him--nodded solemnly. "Then we cannot risk the madness that is bound to follow. Close the city, Lord Commander. No one leaves nor enters without my say, do you understand?"

He gave another solemn nod and turned about his heel. Garlan turned across the bailey, where Loras was fighting with a few of his men. Garlan snapped his fingers at them. "With me," he ordered, and they fell into the hasty step he had.

"Brother, what is it?" Loras demanded. The six men-at-arms Garlan had with them were trailing behind, so Garlan felt he could speak before his brother.

"Disorder has come across the Keep. Aegon Crassius rushed passed me half-crazed, but for what I don't know. I've ordered the Lord Commander to close the city," Garlan explained.

Loras looked confused. "Lord Martell is Hand. He orders the Gold Cloaks."

"No," Garlan said. "Do you think I spent as much money as I did on this city for no reason at all? I order the Gold Cloaks, and I've ordered the city closed."

Garlan entered his tower, Loras trailing behind him. Garlan quickly took up a pen and wrote two letters. The first, to Lord Lannister, and the second, Lord Baratheon. They were to the absent Lord Paramounts, those without influence in King's Landing, and they read:

The queen is fallen. Come to King's Landing to have your say. I've closed the city until you have arrived.

-truly, Garlan Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Brightwater Keep, and the Hightower, Ser

[Nuxipal]

Ixidor Bloodfyre
Red Keep, Kings Landing

As the guards let him and his two friends into the keep he sees men rushing to the gates. Only a few moments earlier some rider had nearly trampled them. He would presume the rider had no idea who he was precisely. He was wearing strange armor to be sure, it was Valyrian-styled armor, but that did not mean the rider should be in such a rush that he could have harmed possible foreign dignitaries. Or in this case, relatives to the Monarch.

"What is the big rush? It seems that no sooner we get here, that there are men running every which direction," asked Vaekar. Ixidor shrugged, "I guess someone important was supposed to be arriving today, or maybe this is a normal shift change for them. Who knows." They follow the man to personal chambers and told the queen is ill. Ixidor is alarmed by this news. "Ill? You mean she is sick? I must be permitted to see her. I am the son of Rheagar Bloodfyre, born of Dae..." before he can continue Aelix cuts him off while Vaekar clasps a hand over his mouth. "What my friend here is wanting to say is that we would like to show our support for the Queen and request that we visit her soon."

As the escort leaves Vaekar unmuffles Ixidor. With a gasp of air Ixidor turns around and gives the two of them death stares. "You realize that I wish to be by my grandmother's side. My father was her first child. I have a responsibility to my family and besides my sister, Queen Daenerys is the only family I have."

The others look aside, "We can't let you reveal yourself just yet. Not to a common guardsman either. It must be before Court where many noble lords will hear it. Hopefully then when she passes in ten or twenty years and you have a family and lands of your own here, a Grand Council will be assembled to choose a new King from among those with a claim. Your claim is strong if that is what you truly desire. The Son of Daenerys's first born son. Unfortunately, we do not know who your grandfather is. Rhaegar wrote it down somewhere, but it is lost to me." Aelix looked back to Ixidor, "Hopefully when you have the letters opened it will speak of who your grandfather is."

The Trio take turns sleeping, not wanting to leave the room unguarded just in case of trouble.

[Lorellion]

The Red Keep, Queen's Bedchambers, 0 days after death.

Grand Maester Brynden Tully stayed calm throughout his whole confrontation with Aegon. He was aware of Aegon's slight "madness" as they called it, and he also knew that the best way to deal with these people was to stay calm and not fight back. Surprisingly, this wasn't the first time he had been pushed into a wall. Events of this sort had the tendency to occur in the capital, and Brynden had grown used to it. He had taken to hiding a dagger beneath his robes in case anyone became to dangerous or unstable. Whenever the lords of the court wanted someone to blame, it was often him who took the brunt of it. But now, as he stepped into the Queen's chambers, he lost his composure. Tears began to fall from his face and he began to weep softly. How could this have happened? I was with her when she fell asleep. She wasn't dead when I left her. Slowly, he wiped away his tears and began to speak slowly as if talking to an uncontrollable animal.

"Aegon... I can assure you... She must have died naturally in her sleep... I gave her nothing. She refused milk of the poppy, so I just sat with her until-" He cut off abruptly as he neared the body. Silver hair sprawled out all around the corpse. She was still beautiful even in death. The most startling thing, however, was her eyes. Deep purple eyes stared up at him eerily. He held back a moan. She had not been sleeping when she had died. She had been awake and alert when she drew her last breath. Grand Maester Brynden closed his eyes. "Please bring the body to my study," he murmured to Loras, "Wrap it in a sheet or something. I don't want anyone to see her." The Grand Maester looked back at the body before putting a hand on Aegon's shoulder.He was about to say something until he noticed the wine goblet. He picked it up and peered inside, not seeing anything but a few drops of wine. I wonder...

[Givious]

Ser Aegon Crassius
Streets of Kings Landing/The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon's Destrier tears through the streets. People move to the side as the armored stead pushes people aside. Aegon has to quickly divert his horse as some eastern men step into the street from the docks yelling "MOVE!" he rides through. Upon reaching the Red Keep he quickly dismounts, running towards the entrance. He grabs the head of the Targaryen Household Guard; Rhogar Vesquisos.

"Other than the small council, no one enters or exits. UNDERSTAND?!"

"Aye, m'lord. GUARDS! Lock the gates and man the keep!"

As Aegon enters the Red Keep Dorivan and Rhaegar, who had jumped on Dorivan's horse, grab their swords and stand with the guards. Aegon tears through the halls, rushing past Lord Tyrell. As he comes across the Grandmaester he grabs him by his chain and pushes him against the wall.


"By the Seven what did you give her! Who did you tell? Did you tell anyone the truth?" Before he can answer Thygar appears in the hallway, grabbing his grandson with his crippled hands he pulls him away.

" Loran!" Thygar yells at the Queensguard as he turns the corner to figure out what the commotion was. He runs to his Grandfather and cousin's side. "Take Aegon and the Grandmaester to her chamber. The Hand should meet you there, I will deal with the Small Council."

Aegon rushes to the chamber, upon seeing the Queen's body falling to his knees. As he begins to cry, he crawls on his knees towards the bedside, whispering slowing "Why.... Why her? Why my gran...." Most of it is inaudible to many of the others. Loran looks towards the Grandmaeser, being calm.

"Did you give her anything last night Grandmaester?" His hand is on his blade, although it is not out of its sheath.

Thygar Crassius
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Thygar, before going to the small council chamber, enters his chambers. The young Ser Daradon Stauton and Ser Jacken Hayford, both heirs of their respective houses, wait for the elderly man. Grabbing a scroll, he begins to scribble down a message on it. After a minute of silence, with both of the men looking very confused, Thygar pulls out a seal and pours wax on the documents. He presses it with the seal, the seal of House Targaryen. He hands the messages to the men, looking each in the eye.

"Deliver these to Hayford and Rook's Rest. As you travel to Rook's Rest, Daradon, deliver these copies to Rosby and Duskendale; make sure House Blackwater sees this. Jacken, travel to Stokeworth before Hayford; we need all the men we can. Once you have reached Hayford travel to the Riverlands, first Darry, then onto Riverrun. Daradon, once you reach Rook's Rest travel onto Crackclaw. We need all banners to... pay homage to our queen. Tell no one."

The men look shocked as they now heard the news. Thygar waves them on, giving them the last orders to take five Crassius men at arms each. Fly no banner until arriving at the city or castle. With this they were off, showing a seal to the Commander of the Guard that allowed them to leave. They quickly leave the city, dressed in cloak covering their armor and sigils. With this, Thygar goes to the small council chamber... prepared for what was to come. He has his personal guard, Vondrik Dorasko, with him in the room with ten guards along with the Targaryen Household guard around the chamber. These were dangerous times...

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon Crassius, Garlan thought as the man rushed past him. He was distraught, mad out of his wits. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong. He finds the death too moving.

Garlan turned abruptly on his heel, then made way to find Lord Commander Randyll. Madness had already slipped into Aegon Crassius, the kind of madness that drives men to do wild things. Thygar Crassius was the wiser sort of man, but still prone to the same madness, and Garlan wanted to take no risks.

He came across Lord Commander Randyll on his way to the small council meeting. "My lord," the Lord Commander said, bowing. "How are you this morn?"

"You know, I trust," Garlan said. His tone turned grave, and the Lord Commander--whom stood above even him--nodded solemnly. "Then we cannot risk the madness that is bound to follow. Close the city, Lord Commander. No one leaves nor enters without my say, do you understand?"

He gave another solemn nod and turned about his heel. Garlan turned across the bailey, where Loras was fighting with a few of his men. Garlan snapped his fingers at them. "With me," he ordered, and they fell into the hasty step he had.

"Brother, what is it?" Loras demanded. The six men-at-arms Garlan had with them were trailing behind, so Garlan felt he could speak before his brother.

"Disorder has come across the Keep. Aegon Crassius rushed passed me half-crazed, but for what I don't know. I've ordered the Lord Commander to close the city," Garlan explained.

Loras looked confused. "Lord Martell is Hand. He orders the Gold Cloaks."

"No," Garlan said. "Do you think I spent as much money as I did on this city for no reason at all? I order the Gold Cloaks, and I've ordered the city closed."

Garlan entered his tower, Loras trailing behind him. Garlan quickly took up a pen and wrote two letters. The first, to Lord Lannister, and the second, Lord Baratheon. They were to the absent Lord Paramounts, those without influence in King's Landing, and they read:

The queen is fallen. Come to King's Landing to have your say. I've closed the city until you have arrived.

-truly, Garlan Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Brightwater Keep, and the Hightower, Ser

Guard Captain Rhogar Vesquisos
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

As the Gold Cloaks begin to leave the keep Rhogar steps in front of Lord Commander Randyll. The two men had for years been at odds, Randyll believing he had command over the Guards of the Red Keep, Rhogar believing that his men were outside of Randyll's command. They were Household Men at Arms for the Targaryen Dynasty, not simple militia with fancy cloaks.

"What in Seven hells are your men doing? I heard them yelling "lock the gates"; Did the Master of Laws give orders to the Guard? I have not received any word from him about anything decided in the Small Council."

[The Huskar Social Union]

Kings Landing, Yonel Clayworth, Moments after the Queen's Death

Something had happened, he was sure of it. He had not been in the waterfront markets for more than few minutes before an armoured rider garbed in black and white came crashing through followed by a handful of lagging guardsmen. The rider had almost knocked over a merchant stand and near trampled a member of the city watch and he raced through the market towards the upper sections of the city, towards the Red Keep. At first he thought that the man was simply late for an appointment, but a little while later the area was flooded by members of the city watch, their gold columns quickly making their way through the crowds of commoners and nobles. He could hear barked orders rising across the commotion from the lead of the company.

"Meryn take your men and close the Mud Gate now! No one enters or leaves! Jon, take your men to the east and block off the River Row passage to the Red Keep!"

Further down the streets ahead he could see more columns of guardsmen and soldiers moving around, setting up checkpoints and barring entry to the passages and archways that lead up to Aegons High Hill. This was a full scale lock down of the city. The sudden surge of armoured guards had caused many of the people in the markets to disperse and go home, usually when this many men were deployed in this fashion blood tended to follow, and they wanted no part in it. He made his way over to a line of guardsmen at the Mud Gate as its heavy frame was locked shut.

"Guardsman, what is going on here, why is the city being locked down?" He called forth as his guards formed up behind him, the lead guard, a small but stocky man with a patch over one eye and scars covering his face stepped forward and replied. "Im sorry m'lord, but i can tell you that, please move along and clear the streets. Official orders from the Lord Commander"

"But what is the reasoning for these orders? what has happened?"

"Im sorry sir i can not answer that, please move along!" And with that the man turned and barked orders for some peasants at the gates to back away outside. There was only one place where he would find out the answers to this situation.

"Captain Albett, on me, clear a path ahead through the crowds, we are going as close as we can to the Red Keep, i want to find out what is happening here"
"Yes sire!" the man replied before stepping to the front of the column and shouting for the crowds to step aside, they began pushing past them and heading up towards the Keep itself.

They passed by formations of gold cloaks and members of the Targaryen house hold itself as they attempted to clear the streets of the crowds, Yonel made note of several side paths that were as of yet unguarded and they used that to their advantage and slipped by the guardsmen on the main roads. Eventually they found themselves in front of the Main gate to the Red Keep, blocked by several rows of Gold Cloaks and in the courtyard he saw a formation of Targaryen soldiers holding position, as if they were unsure as to help the gold cloaks or stay where they are.

"Halt! Access to the Red keep is now off limits! Please return to your accommodations in the city my lord!" The lead Gold Cloak called forth as Yonel and his men stepped forward past the collection of others attempting to gain access. He was going to use the fact that he had twenty trained men with him to get inside, he would make a deal with the guard commander.

"My name is Yonel Clayworth, Brother of Steffon Clayworth lord of Tarth, i demand to speak to the captain of the Castle Guard at once, i have a proposition for him"

[Arlye Austros]

The Red Keep. The Day of the Sleeping Dragon.
Lysa Hardyng-Stark

The girl had been wandering through the fortress since dawn, and was walking just below Maegor´s Holdfast when she first saw the Golden Guards rushing through the courtyard. Must be some killing or a brawl near the walls, that tends to happen from time to time. She thought. Her father was, no doubt, going to be informed as soon as possible. She continued her naïve walking through hallways, down a stone stairway, by the kitchens and then back up. Finally, she decided to get back to her chambers to get some breakfast.

More Gold Cloaks. The seemed to be really upset about something. The whole keep seemed that way. Three came by her, talking. “They won´t tell us what is going on…” She managed to hear before one of them looked upon her between the golden helmets. His eyes observed her with lust, and she realized that, and she didn´t liked it. But those words…

When she finally got the hallway leaving to her chamber she saw her Father walking out of his chamber.

Lord Vardis Hardyng-Stark
Master of Laws

“Father… what is going on?”
His daughter came to him with a slight smile.
“I don´t know, they have summoned me to the Small Council… I suppose is that Garlan with some rumor ag…”
She interrupted. “The Gold Cloaks are being moved from their posts… they seem very upset. Something is happening.” She told him. Vardis didn´t liked it.
“I made no order… Tarly perhaphs?”
“You would know.” She entered her chamber, just by his own. He was clearly doubtful.
House Hardyng-Stark had its own small household. He would not care about people spying him, but he didn´t trusted the Gold Cloaks, and he knew those new armours and knights for training were provided by one man. His own household consisted on twenty men, commanded by Lancel Hunter, the very same that crippled his father. He knew the boy was innocent of it, but his nephew was not so forgiving, and taking him away as his commander of his guard, was not only a good providence for his life, but for Vardis own too, as he was an able fighter and a good organizer. Hunter was just by him on that chance.
“Lancel, take four of your best and come. The rest stay in this area, protect my children. Where is Lucas, where is Adrian?”
Lance Hunter, armed with his sword and wearing a chain mail, looked at him. “They went out of the city for a dawn ride. They should be about to be back, My Lord.”
“As soon as you see them, get them here, and don´t let anyone in or out.”
He walked away, and when he was down the stairs Lancel, after making orders flow, had joined him and four more Vale Guards, and they all headed for the Meeting.

West of the Figh Market, south of the King´s Gate, Outside King´s Landing
Lucas Hardyn-Stark

“I am still a faster rider than you.” He was. Lucas was able to keep a better position on the horse and take a better speed in long runs.
“If father ask for any of us to deliver a message on horseback to the Vale, you should take it.” His brother laughed. “Speed in long distances is not that important in battle. You are a good rider, but not such a good fighter.” He sprinted his horse to some distance, lowered his helmet, then charged at him, sword raised to the sky. The blow crushed against his shield, and Lucas tried to answer back with his own blade from a low sided direction. But Adrian was fast and blocked it with his blade, not even raising his shield and still directing his horse around him. Lucas was unable to ride with both hands in combat, and soon his brother had moved around, and the blow of the sword reached his back. Lucas yielded. In a minute they both had uncovered their heads from the helmets and stepped down their mounts.
“Speed is key, Lucas. Rob Stark used speed in the Whispering Woods, and speed was key in the Oxcross. If you keep moving, the archer can´t aim, if you keep moving, you have many options to strike, if you keep moving, your foe will be confused, tired, and will give up very soon. These lords are used to fight an enemy that sits in front of them, practicing only with static targets and idle armies on a map. But armies march, and some will run very fast if their life is at stake, and good commanders can make so even in an organized way, and even when they have the upper hand.”
He always gave such talks about how Rob Stark was so great. Lucas was frankly tired of him.
“Where is Marsella?”
“She stayed in the Keep. She was tending to the boy.” His eyes, filled with pride, glittered at the time he spoke of his son. Since Harrion was born, Adrian was a different man. The Gold Cloaks moved on the walls. Their own guards, three of the Guards of the Vale his father brought and they asked Lancel to grant them, observed from a nearby mound. The flag of the Master of Laws waved to the sea breeze.
“I do like King´s Landing. I should probably ask the Queen for a castle nearby, I would serve well.” Lucas said. His brother giggled.
“You would sit on your keep and pretend you keep the Queen Safe. Truth be said, the Kingdoms are in a peace that has lasted for a while, and the only ones fighting are those Lords pretending they can climb up to the Thrones. Not even our uncle had to fight anyone.”
“They say Ronnel is fighting his own war in the Vale.”
“They say.” Adrian commented, looking at his sword. “A word of trust, mistrust, words and lies. Not the thing I like.”
“Words and lies killed your King in the North.” Lucas said smiling, then howled. His brother was furious, and climbed to his horse. “For that, I challenge you to a duel.” He said as he used to challenge him years back. They were completely ignorant of the war breeding behind the gates.

The Eyrie, Vale of Arryn
Ronnel Hardyng-Stark

The raven was immediately brought to him. It spoke of death, of advice, and duty. Maester Tyrane entered his room while he slept.
“My Lord Regent…” he said from the door. He then walked closer to the bed. “Ronnel.” The Regent of the Vale woke up. His eyes, still seeing the dreams of one day when his father and his mother were still such, darkened at the memories of reality: He was Regent, he didn´t liked it, and he had to remain Regent for his Father´s sake. He turned to look at the old man, his only friend in that cold fortress.
“Maester…”
“A raven, I fear.” He gave him the letter. “It came from the Gate.”
He took it and read. He died. Alan Wydman, Lord of the Bloody Gate for over nine years, had died in the night. The defense had been assumed by the Castellan of Lord Alan, some Linus of Gulltown.
“You are now to appoint someone.”
His master was right. However, this could be a problem. He had foes in the Vale, and friends. The appointment of a Lord of the Gate was a problem and a weapon of double edge. He wanted to delay its usage.
“My father is the rightful Lord of the Vale. We shall wait till he gets better to appoint one.” He gave the Old Maester the letter. “Please, Tyrane, send word to my brother and my uncle. I will need their advice. And could you call for breakfast?” the man nodded and exited. Before closing the door he returned. “I petty you, Ronnel. If I were you I wonder if I would ask for my father´s death, a peaceful one. I would also feel guilty about it. I am here if you need anything.” He closed the door and left Ronnel alone. He was, indeed, thinking the same things his Maester said.

[Logistica Suprema]

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Aegon Crassius, Garlan thought as the man rushed past him. He was distraught, mad out of his wits. Something's wrong. Very, very wrong. He finds the death too moving.

Garlan turned abruptly on his heel, then made way to find Lord Commander Randyll. Madness had already slipped into Aegon Crassius, the kind of madness that drives men to do wild things. Thygar Crassius was the wiser sort of man, but still prone to the same madness, and Garlan wanted to take no risks.

He came across Lord Commander Randyll on his way to the small council meeting. "My lord," the Lord Commander said, bowing. "How are you this morn?"

"You know, I trust," Garlan said. His tone turned grave, and the Lord Commander--whom stood above even him--nodded solemnly. "Then we cannot risk the madness that is bound to follow. Close the city, Lord Commander. No one leaves nor enters without my say, do you understand?"

He gave another solemn nod and turned about his heel. Garlan turned across the bailey, where Loras was fighting with a few of his men. Garlan snapped his fingers at them. "With me," he ordered, and they fell into the hasty step he had.

"Brother, what is it?" Loras demanded. The six men-at-arms Garlan had with them were trailing behind, so Garlan felt he could speak before his brother.

"Disorder has come across the Keep. Aegon Crassius rushed passed me half-crazed, but for what I don't know. I've ordered the Lord Commander to close the city," Garlan explained.

Loras looked confused. "Lord Martell is Hand. He orders the Gold Cloaks."

"No," Garlan said. "Do you think I spent as much money as I did on this city for no reason at all? I order the Gold Cloaks, and I've ordered the city closed."

Garlan entered his tower, Loras trailing behind him. Garlan quickly took up a pen and wrote two letters. The first, to Lord Lannister, and the second, Lord Baratheon. They were to the absent Lord Paramounts, those without influence in King's Landing, and they read:

Guard Captain Rhogar Vesquisos
The Reed Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

As the Gold Cloaks begin to leave the keep Rhogar steps in front of Lord Commander Randyll. The two men had for years been at odds, Randyll believing he had command over the Guards of the Red Keep, Rhogar believing that his men were outside of Randyll's command. They were Household Men at Arms for the Targaryen Dynasty, not simple militia with fancy cloaks.

"What in Seven hells are your men doing? I heard them yelling "lock the gates"; Did the Master of Laws give orders to the Guard? I have not received any word from him about anything decided in the Small Council."

Lord Commander Randyll-Dickon Tarly
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Ser Randyll rose to his full height when Rhogar approached him, his great chest swelling. The coiled muscles on his arms tightened, and his hand lightly brushed the hilt of his sword. He was not armored, yet Rhogar was--yet he and Rhogar were surrounded by Gold Cloaks and Tyrell men rushing to and fro. There were Targaryen men about, too, guarding the Keep, which complicated things.

"I am doing what I have been ordered to, ser," Ser Randyll replied. So far as he knew, the man was no knight, but a courtesy might spare the bloodshed of a fight. He swallowed his pride to utter the title. "And I have been ordered," he continued, "to close the city. Whether or not your men wish to help is strictly up to them and you, ser, but I have been told that my Gold Cloaks--both from the Keep and the city--are to shut down all traffic between here and King's Landing and outwards. That, ser, is what in Seven hells my men are doing."

Lord Paramount Garlan Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

After Garlan wrote to the Lord Paramounts, he further wrote to his castellan at Highgarden, Lord Tarly. It read:

To the Dear Lord Tarly,

Raise the banners, call the men. I ask that within a month forty-five thousand (45,000) Tyrell soldiers sit outside King's Landing. I hereby grant you permission to use the Tyrell Fleet for all intents and purposes that allow you to bring these men to King's Landing. Swiftly, Lord Tarly. The Reach has gone to war.

-truly, Garlan Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Reach, Lord of Highgarden, Brightwater Keep, and the Hightower, Ser

When Garlan was done writing his letters, when the ravens flew, when lords were being told of death--when this was done, Garlan left his tower. He rallied fifty Tyrell men-at-arms about him, the best of his household guard, each one a proven soldier. He turned to his brother. "Find Margaery and tell her that the time is come. She is to meet me in the gardens in thirty minutes, with her Swordsmen about her. Tell her that we are doing this, finally. The day is come."

Loras nodded, looking a bit confused, and departed swiftly across the bailey. Garlan himself made his way to the gardens with his fifty Tyrell men-at-arms, weaving casually through the backsides and byways of the Red Keep, dodging the open areas in favor of the tight spaces, moving slowly but at the same time relatively unseen. Then he arrived at the gardens, armed with his fifty men-at-arms. Waiting for the next moment.

Lady Margaery Tyrell
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

Margaery Tyrell was found by Loras, who, looking confused, told her what Garlan had said to him. Her eyes widened. Damn you, Garlan, she thought. Damn you to hell! I am not ready! She sent Loras to protect Olenna, worrying she could not make enough men appear.

Yet with a swiftness about her, she sent Alerie and Tanda, both aware of her plotting, to fetch as many Swordsmen as they could. She went about too, and, finding the girl that had seduced the heir apparent of Tarly, sent her about as well to raise those Tarly knights.

Within the time she had, she had brought thirty knights to her side, each one trained and effective in the martial arts. They were young, tall knights, with long coiled muscles and fine armor and good swords. Thirty professional killers, as Margaery saw them. Her Swordsmen.

She departed, leading them to the gardens. She did not know the backsides and byways as well as Garlan, and most of the time they moved about in full view.

Ser Jason, the Gold Cloak Holding the Red Keep's Gate
The Red Keep, King's Landing, the Crownlands
Zero-Days-After-Death

A man by the name of Yonel Clayworth had arrived, with twenty trained men-at-arms about him. While Ser Jason was confident in his Gold Cloaks, that numbered at thirty, the twenty Targaryen household guards that, in the confusion, had come to aid his Gold Cloaks were being to realize they had no reason to be there.

That meant they might run, and, though Yonel trusted his men, he was not sure he could maintain them alone against twenty professional men. So he sent a runner to find the Lord Commander, and called back, "A moment, ser! A moment, and our Lord Commander shall be with you."

[Theocracy of Catholicism]

Wolfswood, 3 leagues from Winterfell, Two weeks before Queen's Death

"Alright men, this is it. Less than an hour of riding until we reach Winterfell. I want a tight formation, so we might impress Lord Stark. Hi-yah!"
Lord Jorin drove his boots into the sides of his charger, spurring it to go faster, the sounds of his men behind him. Only thirty or so men accompanied him on the long journey across towards his destination. They had left Bear Island behind, sailing first to Deepwood Motte. That was a week ago, before they rode through the Wolfswood, hearing the sounds of packs hunting.

Gates of Winterfell. Over an hour later

Lord Jorin dismounted, followed by the sounds of 30 pairs of boots crunching on the chilled earth. He felt around in his pocket, feeling the trinket his wife gave him before they had left. A good luck charm, to stay safe, she had said. Jorin strode purposefully up to the gates of Winterfell, and knocked loudly.

"Who goes there?," a guard shouts down from the ramparts.

"Tis I, Lord Jorin Mormont, of Bear Island. I come to speak to Lord Stark!"

"It's been awhile since we've seen you here, mi'lord. But of course, come in, come in. Mi'lord of Stark will want to see you immediately, Follow me."
Lord Jorin's escort stay in the courtyard, as Jorin and the guard walk through winding passageways up to Lord Rickon's solar.

[The Huskar Social Union]

Evanfall Hall, Tarth, Steffon Clayworth, Moments after the Queens Death

After he had finished his Breakfast alongside his family, Steffon bid them farewell and left the hall as he had a meeting to attend to with the Master at arms and the other head members of the house hold. He journeyed back up to the second level of the castle, back to his study where the meeting would take place. The guards opened the door for him and he stepped inside to see the Master at Arms, Commander of the Guard and head Steward waiting for him. The three men turned to acknowledge him.

"My lord" they said in unison welcoming him, "Good day sir's, take a seat and lets get started" he replied and gestured them to the large wooden table in the center of the room.

"So, Reginald, would you like to start us off?" He asked of his Master at Arms. Reginald was a tall man, the tallest in the room standing at 6'3, he was well built for a man in his fifties, but the passage of time affected him in other ways, he had little hair remaining on his head and both it and the stubble around his chin were grey. In order to speed up recruitment and training of the common soldiers, Steffon had assigned him to assist the Commander in training of new recruits alongside his son.

"Of course sire, training is going well with the new recruits, i estimate in another week and they will be fit for the Commanders Ranks. Your son is also performing well, he is strong with the sword and the spear, but struggles with the bow, im having him use the crossbow this morning to see how he does with it instead. We will get started after this meeting"

He was pleased to hear the progress on both his son and the new soldiers, with their training nearly complete they will have another unit of fifty men to add to his host, "Very good, Captain Cleyton, how is everything on your side?"

Cleyton was a Mallister soldier originally, he was assigned to his Cynthea's Guard when she came to the stormlands, and when the two met and fell in love, Cleyton came with them back to Tarth and took up position as a member of his guard. Steffon was impressed with his leadership ability that he made him the Commander of the guard and his marshall. He was a man of average height and sported short brown hair and a pair of dark brown eyes.

"Things are going well my lord, as Sir Reginald said, the training is going well and we have had little incidents across Tarth, the men are keeping order effectively. However two men of the southern post along the coast overlooking the approach to ship breaker bay were caught on a farm after they assaulted the farmer and were attempting to rape the mans daughter when others happened by. We have them in chains in the dungeon"

"Good, give them the choice of the Wall or Castration.. i can not abide such people, not fit to be called men. Anything else?"

"No my lord" Cleyton replied, all that left now was the Steward, Karl, a modest man of modest size, with long dark hair and a short beard.

"I have a report from the dock master sire, the new pier that was ordered built has allowed us to receive an additional three ships, he told me we should see an increase to our local commerce profits by an additional five percenr, the farms are flourishing as are the mines though we are running low on able works to fill up the mines on the eastern side of the island"

"Send word to Lord Musgood about taking on some of his men to fill the mines, he mentioned that his own iron mines have run dry and his men are unoccupied, we could use them here and send off a percentage off the income to Musgood"

"I will get to it mylord. The future is looking bright, i expect we will have a great year" Karl replied with enthusiasm. Steffon hoped they did. Over the next hour the four men discussed a great deal many topics before they retired to their own business, this would be a busy day.

Kings Landing, Yonel Clayworth, at the same time

"A moment, ser! A moment, and our Lord Commander shall be with you." The gold cloak commander replied before he dispatched a runner to his superiors, they should be seen to soon enough, and hopefully he can find out more about what was going on. He formed his men up into two lines in front of the gold cloaks, ten facing forward at the guardsmen and the other ten facing back, it was good to make an impression on who ever came to greet him.

[The United Realms Of Lords and Paradox]

Small Council chamber
Brynden Valenvareth, Ser Evermoure
The knight noticed the people running around, as a handmaiden pass He asks” what’s going on?”
Lady responded” I heard the gold cloaks have closed the city, Please I must go” the Knight spoke up before she could run off ” why are you in such a rush?” Handmaidens fear grew” We handmaids hear things, I want out” evermoure was surprised and worry at this info at what was happening. The maiden took off with speed to be out of sight in seconds. Evermoure opened the door to the Chamber and walked over to his brother” Brother the gold cloaks are closing the city and handmaidens fear gave me chill” Lord Valenvareth face turned to that of worry” This is bad news, I don’t trust what’s happening, let’s be safe we should get going to my room to say to get ready for anything. If anyone asks about the armour we can say we were going to duel after doing the books, now let’s get going “As Lord stepped out he closed the door behind him, he turned to address the two guards standing there” bring seven of our guards and Oil to my Room, you there take the rest (15men) to Rhogar He will know what’s going on. If he asks for help, you will do so till I recall you” As he dismissed the guards on Orders, Brynden grab his brother and started to walk towards his room” we are only doing this as a precaution to my fears”.