A Song of Revenge and Gold: House Malroy Quest | Chapter XLVII

Welcome to A Song of Revenge and Gold: House Malroy Quest. In which you take the reins of a House of storied glorious past since Aegon’s Conquering, but whose fortunes have taken a turn for the worse in the doom that Robert’s Rebellion brought. You are Brynden Malroy, second son to Lord Vamos Malroy and Lady Esemella Hayford and the last living heir to Steadhold and House Malroy. The year is 285AC, two years after the Rebellion and a year after your return to Westeros.

House Malroy is a pre-genned House designed around the idea of a story within the Crownlands of a House fiercely loyal to the Targaryens and their attempts to live in this new world after Robert’s Rebellion. Lord Brynden Malroy is as well pre-genned but will take direction from the players in his ways and how he develops himself further. This Quest will be moderately more story driven than others of its kind, but the development of the House and her lands will take just as much importance.

If you’ve played one of the many Quests within the ASoIaF setting the rules of the SIFRP system should be known. I will be using the Game of Thrones edition, as well as a few of the expansions namely OOSP and a few house rules which will be explained as we come to them. If you have questions about how things work or why certain actions are taken I can explain them as we go along. In truth this is a learning experience for me as well.

Google Documents Mastersheet:

docs.google.com/document/d/1WiZG5xtDqbQKI31IIbqNb4zTmooivb0Ns_J6EatgWgY/edit?usp=sharing
Last Updated:
>6/29 - House Malroy History, Holdings, & Household
>7/3 - Dispositions of Houses & Persons of the Realm

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SIFRPG Resources:

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Archive:

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And now without further ado.

“Keep your shield up, sun at your back. Don’t get overzealous with the little ones, couple a quick bites is enough to knock them out. Your competition are the older lads, you want to win the Melee?”

“Yes Ser Lucas.”

“Then pick the biggest fight. Fat boy over there with the spider webs on his shield. Or the pomegranate boy without the shield. Finish ‘em quick, give the other lads a reason to avoid you and keep your reserves for the end. Know you and Pryor’s boy are friends, but remember, there’s only one winner in there, aye?”

“Aye Ser Lucas.”

Ser Lucas Longwaters smiles as he straightens up and firmly thumps his squire across the back, Grant Conklyn, the heir of House Conklyn punches his arm in return and they both laugh causing you to smile. The boy had been a part of your Household for nearly a year now, coming alongside his elder sister, Lady Racheal Conklyn, when she was wed to Lucas. Lord Argor Conklyn had confided in you that the boy was old enough to be made a Knight already, but felt he needed a few more miles under his feet and a healthy serving of humble pie before he was ready to become his father’s Heir. Grant certainly shared Lucas’ bravado and cockiness, and for good reason you had observe over the months, he was an excellent rider, his sword arm was fast and strong, and his win in King’s Landing’s equestrian competition only added to the youths swelled ego. When he had learned he would be squiring for Lucas and not the Lord of Steadhold, he had nearly thrown a fit his face so twisted up in anger and discontent only his sister could calm him down and convince him to stay.

The two young men embrace, Lucas again thumping Grant’s breastplate, “Don’t disappoint out there lad. Half of Westeros is watching, including the whole of the Reach, and you know what that means?”

Grant wears a beaming grin alongside his response, “Women.”

“Ladies, Grant, mind your manners,” Racheal interrupts coming up behind your small group, causing the boy’s face to drop and his eyes to quickly avert to the ground. She walks up before him, folding her gloved hands over her visibly pregnant stomach now, and eyes him up and down before tipping his chin up to look her in the eyes, “Eyes on the prize little brother, a Knighthood with Lord Mace Tyrell’s blessing is truly a boon. Win it for our family, for father, yes?”

Grant’s chest swells with pride accompanying a firm nod, “Yes sister. I will do our father and House Conklyn proud. I swear. And you as well Lord Malroy, again, thank you for the sword and breastplate.”

Kate Yarson had been hard at work before your journey to Highgarden, mostly dealing with the Household Knight’s arms and armor, sharpening, repairing, reforging if necessary. That she had time for your smaller commissions had astounded you, that they had turned out so well, even more so. Two proper swords, two breastplates, one with a grey horse, another a yellow waning sun and onyx moon. Grant and Edmund had been the only squires intending to compete, they deserved to represent themselves, their families and to a lesser extent your House properly.

“You have been a welcomed guest of Steadhold for the past year Grant Conklyn. I have no doubts you will do your best to put them to good use. Best of luck.”

Grant bows his head deeply, “Thank you my Lord.”

You leave off from the group, Lucas promising to meet you in Ser Olymer Tyrell’s private box in a few minutes, and go off to find Ser Jon Pryor and his son Edmund Pryor in a quiet corner. They had their foreheads pressed together, eyes closed, as you approached, the elder man’s hand wrapped around the back of his son’s head as he prayed with him. You pause before them allowing them their moment, and reflecting upon Lucas’ second amongst the Household Knights, and the stark contrast between the two men.

“...and last to the Warrior. May he grant you strength of arms, courage of mind, and honor of being in the coming times. May your sword strike true, shield protect heart, and armor wrap you in his blessing. So blessed are those by his grace.”

“So blessed are those,” Edmund repeats after his father and they open their eyes, Jon taking the moment to give his son’s head a firm squeeze before breaking and nodding towards you.

“My Lord. My son has a few words for you if you will allow.”

“Of course Ser Jon,” you respond, “Edmund, you may speak.”

Edmund takes a knee, bowing his head deeply and placing the sword you had made for him before his and your feet before speaking, “I am forever grateful for your kindness my Lord, I am not worthy of such gifts. May the Seven bless you and your family.”

“Then become worthy of them Edmund,” you say, “Though always remember, in the eyes of myself, your father, and the Seven above, you are already worthy. The best of luck in the Melee.”

The boy looks up to you with a crooked smile before quickly averting his eyes again, “Thank you my Lord.”

Nodding you leave father and son to finish their preparations for the Squire’s Melee, Ser Jon again confirming he will be joining you to watch alongside Lucas, Olymer and Ser Arlen. A few days had gone past uneventful as you had made plans for Lord Randyll Tarly’s feast this night. An event that was suppose to occur two nights ago, that had swelled with guests and numbers and had been postponed as Lord Randyll’s men acquired more game from the surrounding forests. Ser Arlen Hunt and Ser Olymer Tyrell had become regular acquaintances of yours in this time, the former having dined with you the night prior in your pavilion alongside his sons Ser Artys and Armen. Both good lads by any account you reflect while climbing the stairs to Olymer’s private box. The younger, your possible second squire seemed bright and happy, not unlike your own, Victus.

Olymer and Arlen are waiting for you already, both in good spirits and chattering about which of the lads looked the most likely winner, Ser Arlen had hedged his bets on the pomegranate boy, Podrick Pommingham, while Olymer seemed torn between Gormon Webber and Felix Footly, all names you did not know. Olymer already has a blush upon his checks from the wine in his hand and looks away sheepishly when you eye it and raise an eyebrow.

“Just the couple during the day Lord Brynden, I swear it upon my father’s grave,” he says with a flustered tone, “I’ll be sober as day come the feast.”

Olymer’s squire comes up to pour more for his master, but is waved off hurriedly by Ser Olymer who awkwardly smiles at your flat expression before offering you a seat and a drink of your own. Lucas and Jon Pryor arrive together, talking in hushed tones and taking their seats among your small, yet odd, group without saying what of though both are happy to partake in wine when offered.

A trumpet blares calling your attention to the field and a herald who introduces the Lord Paramount, Mace Tyrell to resounding applause, and the previous year’s champion, Willas Tyrell.

“The boy looks half a man,” Lucas comments squinting to see the heir to Highgarden, “What’d the do then? Lie down for ‘im?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes,” Ser Arlen comments stiffly, “It is a poorly kept secret that Mace Tyrell had seen to it his son would win. Not through bribes nor threats, mind you. But the Lord wants a gallant Knight of a son, small wonder he will be competing in the Tourney.”

Olymer ruffles himself up, his face still red, “I still disagree with that. He’s too young, not even a Knight made yet, only promised.”

“Hardly your place to question though,” Arlen responds and Olymer nods sadly his hand instinctively going for his cup for another swallow before stopping mid way and coming to rest on his chair’s arm.

The field begins to fill with squires of the Reach, Stormlands, Crownlands, some of Dorne and the Westerlands even. By your estimation there are about eight to ten score of the young lads, ranging from far too young to far too old. It was a small event really, in truth you doubted Mace Tyrell would not have even bothered to come had his sword upon a shoulder not been promised and a chance to laud his son’s achievements had not been so easily taken. Grant and Edmund come out together, Lucas and Jon Pryor both standing to applaud their respective squires. Arlen leans over to you during this and asks, “My Lord have you considered what we spoke of the night prior?”

“Of my approach to Lord Tarly? Not quite yet Ser Arlen,” you admit. Ser Arlen Hunt had been insistent that you did not break your purpose so quickly. Lord Tarly was an honorable family man, but that did not mean he was not prickly and could sour quickly to newcomers and those so fast to ask favors. You had little means besides horseflesh and the other gifts, but those did little for a man so firmly of Westeros you doubted he would see the wonder of a myrish crossbow as anything more than a murmer’s toy. The herald again calls attention calling you from idle thoughts, the trumpets blaring and a flag being raised. You can hear the creak of plate, the boys nervous for their first fight jittering back and forth, the firm resounding movements of the lads veteran to such ordeals stretching and posturing to scare those around them. The flag drops in a moment and the crowd roars into life as the boys turn the yard into a cloud of dust, clanging metal, and screams as they charge into one another.

As things in your box settle again you lean back watching the onslaught as the younger lads are quickly dispatched or come together to defend themselves against those more capable. You begin to consider your options.

>Ask your group for suggestions?
>Any suggestions of your own to bounce around?

Maybe go through Tarly through his squire? Your boys could use the connections and it would improve your relations if the squires got to know each other well and train with each other for a bit while you stayed here.

Basically organize a training playdate with Tarly and his knights/squires with your knights and squires and go through him that route.

Show him your military strength and knowledge, and grow it from there. Once common ground has been reached, go to more personal matters and then start complaining about your personal situation against your bastard of a bannerman.

Be honest and upfront with him, say that you hope he will provide fair and just counsel. And to sweeten the pot imply reachmen can get to a lannister by proxy.

>Ask your group for suggestions?

I am really blank right now

>>Ask your group for suggestions?
No real ideas. But a little surprised ya are running until I checked the date.

>Ask your group for suggestions

>Brynden Malroy is a cuckold. Lorelei isnt his!
>Obella Malroy is a whore
>Their daughter will be a whore too
>He is also shit at archery
>His uncle is swordswallower
>Father is a shit QM Mother is a best

Redward pride Westeros wide!

Bizarro-Veeky Forumsfags are the worst.

How you liking them nieces Dorkyn!

Also, when are our boys going to go to a squires Melee? I want them to tear out assholes in a fight (Arron and Victus).

So. Do you guys think Obella is going through Bryndens old stuff while he is gone ?

In 4 years time.

Were we going to offer to squire his son or try to get a daughter as a hand maiden to spend time in kings landing?

“Training exercise perhaps?” you ask Arlen drawing his attention away from the Melee for a moment.

“Do you not think it a bit much to ask?”

“Perhaps, perhaps not. Lord Tarly had been interested in my battle of the Princewood as you have mentioned. My uncle, Ser Dontos Malroy, fought alongside him in the Battle of Ashford and then the Siege of Storm’s End before returning to King’s Landing. We have some common ground.”

Arlen scratches his chin and shrugs, “Lord Tarly is a proud man. Not vain, but proud. Compliments towards his prowess in battle will take you far so long as it does not appear as pandering. Suggesting a meeting of minds while your men warmed up and trained together in the morning before the day’s tilts would not be the worst of ideas, no. A shame he no longer has a squire, meeting your own and the squire’s of your Household after a, hopefully, fair showing would do as much to impress him as your Knights. A fair idea though my Lord, if not bold.”

“You’re going to have to watch your tongue Brynden,” Lucas says off handedly, “Way I hear it Lord Tarly ain’t much one for flowered verse. Man likes to hear it straight.” Olymer and Arlen both nod in agreement to the sentiment. Your silver tongue had been a greater asset this side of the Narrow Sea than you expected, amongst Lords and Ladies alike. Randyll Tarly’s distaste for your ‘type’ this was well known to you, the evening and subsequent meetings would be a job for the Lord rather than the sellsword.

The crowd roars into life again as two of the better squires finally get into it. Most of the rabble had been thrown out during the opening onslaught as was typical of these events, a good handful yet remained however. Lucas pumps his fist and howlers at the field and you realize the two squires you were watch were Grant Conklyn and Podrick Pommingham. Arlen leans forward in his chair to watch as the two boys begin to lay into each other.

Grant was much faster than the other boy, his face red with sweat and his chest clearly labored under his broiled leather garb. Grant had taken to dancing around him, keeping length between each other and shrugging off the larger boy’s strikes with a deflection off his shield. Grant’s sword had seen limited use in the fight, only striking out when it had the chance to bash against his opponent’s knees or legs. Pommingham takes a great stride attempting to cut off Grant’s attempt to strafe bringing his morningstar to bare in a giant overhead swing, but Lucas’ squire launches instead into a springing roll, fucking the attack entirely and drawing up a safe distance away from the larger boy before launching into a flurry of his own attacks against his opponents back. You can see Lucas smile growing as Grant drives the pommel his sword into Pommingham’s left knee causing him to fall and lose any semblance of balance he once had as Grant’s shoulder pushes into him further and causing the boy to let go over his morningstar and fall over flat on his face. Grant rolls off quickly scrambling to his feet and pointing his sword tip at the back of Pommingham’s neck and earning a surrender in response.

“He learned that from me he did. Always go for a bigger opponent’s knees, make ‘em fall like a redwood,” Lucas says in between wild hoots and hollers beside you, “Also, you owe me five dragons Ser Arlen.” Arlen scoffs and digs into his coin purse while the melee rages on.

“What about a hunt my Lord?” Jon Pryor suggests in a rare moment of speech, “Ser Hunt and Lord Tarly’s heraldry suggests they are both grand hunters.”

Arlen straightens up at the compliment, and you can tell the longbowmen clearly does take great pride in his hunting prowess, “More than Ser Pryor. Though I cannot hold a candle to the master of hunt that my liegelord rightfully claims to be.”

“House Tyrell has a Master of the Hunt employed in Highgarden,” Olymer offers, “I am certain for a price he would be able to arrange a hunt. Perhaps a stag, the red deer are plentiful here, or a boar even. Rutting season has come along, have some fierce big fellows coming out of the deeper woods. Wouldn’t even have to particularly beat him for it, the act alone is one of Lord Tarly’s favorite past times, just so long as you return home with a worthy prize and do not make a fool of yourself in the process.”

“Trophy would look nice in Steadhold,” Lucas adds, “Lady Qorgyle can’t be doing all the decorating now.”

You laugh when you’re reminded of your bare solar and in the end have to agree, it would not be a poor idea. Another plan of gaining common ground through martial prowess, whether it be the intelligent conversation of two leaders while their men trained, or through the bow and spearmanship of two men upon a hunt. Again you pause to consider, stroking at the beard that had regrown, at least your van dyke was quick to fill in again. The melee has begun to slow as you consider, giving way to perhaps two score boys left, both of your own still in the fight.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly to a joint training day and talk at length Warfare shop

Not that I recall.
Samwell was born just two years ago anyway, and Talla will probably be born this month or the next. The other two sisters and Dickon aren't even on the table yet, so not really a viable option regardless.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

A good sport that is

>>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly to a joint training day and talk at length Warfare shop
And yes twenty good men were all that was used to filtrate that place.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
I think it will be easier to impress him with physical feat than with words

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

Go for a Boar. Biggest one there is.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt
There's just something about the idea of two Lords from Loyalist houses hunting a stag that gets my juices flowing.

>Invite Lord Randyll Tarly on a Hunt

As long as we get enough dosh to get that small town upgrade.

Well I'm glad someone caught that.

Next update will be slightly delayed. I woke up late and didn't make myself food, so cooking some pancakes real quick.

Are you happy you finally got to see Lay-Lay ?

>watching the show after what they did to Stannis

Good thing is stopped way before that then

Girl is still gonna get burnt. Just without Stannis knowing it

...hello? Is Veeky Forums still working?

Yes?

“Ser Olymer, can you arrange for a hunt?” you ask.

“A bit presumptive Lord Malroy, don’t you think Lord Malroy?” Arlen comments.

“Better to have it arrange now and to be ready, then to waste precious time on it, Ser Arlen,” you respond, “Besides, failing all else, I am certain your boys and my own men would enjoy the outing, no?”

“A fair justification my Lord.”

“I can see it is ready my Lord, when would be your preferred time?” Olymer asks.

“I suppose tomorrow morning is an unlikely chance. Try the morning after. Failing that an afternoon.”

“Leaving us with only six days left to work with…” Olymer says after a moment of thought before calling his squire over, scribbling down a note and sending him off with it, “It will cost some coin as well my Lord, as you are hosting him afterall. I can get you a discount of course.”

“We will be fine Olymer,” you respond, “A hunt plays to both our strengths. It is a noble pastime and keeps the less than finer points of my particular leadership style hidden away, as I am sure he would ask. And coin is less of my concern at the moment, I will do what is necessary to bring Linden Langward to justice.”

“Twenty good men is an entirely viable warfare tactic,” Lucas remarks to both Olymer and Arlen’s confusion that you wave off with a laugh.

You go to thank Jon Pryor for the idea only to find him totally engrossed in the melee. His son, Edmund, is fighting another in what looks like half plate, his face covered by a full helmet. Edmund is firmly on the defensive at the moment, the other lad baring down on him with heavy strikes from a bastard sword. The two jostle for position for a moment and you finally see Edmund’s opponent’s colors, the black portcullis of House Yronwood prominent upon his chest. A quick look about the stands and you see the Yronwoods and Drinkwaters sitting among the Lords and Ladies of the Realm. It had not been the head of the House that had attended Quentyn had told you, rather his young brother, Ser Orton Yronwood and his friend and bannerman Ser Clemmons Drinkwater. Ser Orton’s grudge against the Martells was far more obvious than the others, and he had calling for a tilt against Prince Oberyn since the opening day. Something that had fallen upon not deaf ears, but rather amused by the bleating goat of a man. The squire you guessed, was his son, and he was a frightening youth. Edmund again finds himself on the backfoot, stumbling back and into another boy who had been waiting for him. The other boy takes the chance to kick out Edmund’s knee, driving his pommel into his kidney as he fell while the Yronwood lad takes the chance to throw his mailed fist into Edmund’s relatively unprotected face. The crowd gasps when the crunching of the gauntlet on flesh echoes throughout the field, Edmund falling into a lump on the ground a clear pool of blood forming under his head as he lay motionless.

Jon is standing in an instant, hardly even taking the time to beg leave, though you do not blame him as you are on your own feet ready to go after him but Lucas’ voice disarms you and causes you to stay. Grant had just barreled into the other two boys, taking the taste of victory away from them when his shoulder charge flattens the boy that had been behind Edmund.

Still standing you wave Arron over and order him to fetch Benjin, Edmund would be hurting, your Knight’s son deserved the best you could offer. Edmund flickers halfway to life again as two men help him off the field, you can see him spitting out blood from between their arms, but you can only imagine his jaw is half a ruin from that hit. Grant is again taking it to the two boys, rallying a crowd behind him as he lays into the non-Yronwood’s side with repeated kick after kick while the actual Yronwood boy is being distracted by two others. You see the boy on the ground beginning to cower and soon hear him screaming for mercy from Grant’s onsalught that is granted, though only barely with Grant cracking the flat of his blade off the downed boys temple, an act you are almost certain knocks him out given the sudden silence.

“Seven Hells the boy is angrier than a wild boar,” Lucas says under his breath, “Never seen him like this before.”

“The two dornish boys ganged up on his friend,” Ser Arlen observes, “While it is not the way I would go about it, justice will be served by the young heir. We can only hope in time he calms and the passion of youth is washed away by the responsibility of being a Lord, lest House Conklyn suffer for it.”

The conversation reminds you of yourself, no doubt men use to comment such things of yourself when you would go all out as a young squire in King’s Landing. He would need to calm to be a proper leader. A good thing his brother is the heir to Steadhold. Countless such things you held no doubt were uttered. Grant was not unlikely your younger self, the brash cockiness, unwarranted ego that was validated by undoubtable skill. Though you felt less akin to the Arlen in this matter, he would be a good Lord, regardless, if you could be, no doubt a properly raised heir could be.

The Yronwood boy has managed to fend off his two attackers, knocking out Gormon Webber and causing Felix Footly to limp off to lick his wounds and nurse a battered shield arm. Part of the banding had lodged itself into his arm you think and no doubt he would be forcibly pulled from the Melee in short order. To your surprise this leaves Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood, whose name you caught in a small chant for him, squaring off as the final two of the Melee. You lean forward, shaking Lucas’ shoulder whose whole body is clenched in excitement. Grant is playing to his speed again, keeping his shield between Orys and himself as much as he can and moving out of the larger boys charges any moment he gets.

Your eyes are so firmly fixed to the field you do not hear the first time you name is called, but catch the small voice the second time, “Lord Brynden?”

Turning you see Arron Qorgyle standing, fidgeting slightly as he tries to look over you to watch the fight. The resounding clang of sword on sword almost draws you back before you wave for Arron to speak quickly.

“Oh um… My Lord, Maester Benjin said who you to return to the pavilion immediately. He has received a letter from your uncle, Ser Dontos Malroy.”

Another clang and a large grunt that causes the crowd to react, “Did he say of what?”

“No my Lord. Just that it was very important.”

You turn your head halfway back, watching Grant dance around Orys a few times before lashing into his shins and retreating in short order. Lucas is too entirely engrossed to be paying attention. And while you didn’t doubt the urgency of your uncle’s letter there was a part of you that felt it could wait a moment longer to watch Grant win.

>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos
>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

>>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos
If Dontos sent a letter some shit just went down.

I don't suppose we could grab it and hurry back to see the end of the melee, could we?
If not
>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

Sorry about that, urgent news

>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

A letter takes a long time to travel. It can wait a few more moments.

>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

>It can wait a few more moments.
[[[BAD END]]]

>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

>>Stay and watch Grant Conklyn and Orys Yronwood finish the Squire’s Melee

Man she did that 2 days after moving in.
She then threw out half his underwear and bought him new ones that she liked.

And got rid of his socks that had holes in them. And redecorated Steadhold.

She threw out our "Favour" collection ?!

>got rid of his socks that had holes in them
That's just not on.

A fella's hole-y socks are like old friends.

>>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter from Dontos

Get Arron to stay and watch, then come report to us what the outcome was.

>Return to the Pavilion and see the urgent letter

Patting Lucas on the shoulder you gain half of his attention and he turns his head to you though eyes remain on the field, “Hm?”

“Benjin got a letter from home, from my uncle,” you snap off quickly, eyes watching Grant taking a beating for a moment before escaping from it with another diving roll, “It’s urgent. I’ll be back at the camp. Congratulate Grant for me when he wins and return as soon as you are able.”

“Aye. He’ll be disappointed you know?”

“I know. I’ll owe him a round on me when he’s a Knight.”

Lucas nods and you turn inform Ser Alren and Olymer you will meet them later for Lord Tarly’s feast, as was planned before dashing off after Arron, the sound of a buzzing crowd and the clangs of metal falling from your ears and into the distance. Arron’s horse hadn’t even been properly secured, though you hardly have time to scold him, bounding up onto Goldsong easily and then leading the way back towards the tent city yourself. Something in your gut felt wrong, Dontos did not right of urgent things unless they truly were. Could it be a resurgence in the Princewood? Was Royce moving? Had something happened to Isis? Your mind raced, heart outpacing Goldsong’s strides making you feel entirely out of sync with your old friend, a rare thing.

Slowing before your pavilion you hardly give the stablehand a chance to take the reigns as you throw them at him, Arron far behind at this point. You enter the tent to find Jon Pryor, Edmund and Benjin in one corner, with a handful of your Knights, Solhas, and Barq Zos scattered about. All are quiet, barring Edmund who you can hearing softly weeping. You did not blame the boy by the looks of his face, he looked to be missing a few teeth, and his cheek had been torn to shreds by the gauntlet. Benjin had likely treated it the best he could before he had gotten in there and began to stitch things up again, but judging from the blood upon his hands, it was a difficult endeavour.

Jon is holding his son’s shoulder, quietly in vigil, his face serious but with a tinge of anger, another thing you hardly blamed them for, the Yronwood boy was cruel, not a Knight, the chivalrous Reachlords would never stand for someone like him winning and being Knighted by Mace Tyrell. Another reason for the Marchers to war again. Grant had better win.

Solhas is the first to approach you in his silent foreboding way, “Good you came. Ill words from the north,” he hands you the letter, the green seal with the mace and dagger stamp already broken.

“Brynden,

An army has appeared on Chelsted’s northernmost borders three days past. They fly no colors, and make no attack, they have simply built camp and are making an obvious show of force. Lady Alexes’ scouts report seven hundred men, forty are mounted, and trebuchets are being built. I sent word to Steadhold and received a response from Ser Mason confirming another army had been spotted on Steadhold’s southernmost border and northwest. Lady Obella’s spies have caught wind of Ser Lestor Langward having remained home and may possibly be leading these forces. Our best guess is the northern men are his and House Langly. While the southern host is House Blount. I sent this letter with Ser Raymun Chelsted, if has not arrived with it personally then we are compromised.

As these hosts have yet to break the King’s Peace my and Ser Mason’s hands are tied Brynden. I believe Lord Langward is at least aware we have his saboteur and is hedging his bets. If you fail in your trial, he will attack, such slander being an act of war itself. If you succeed I cannot say what they will do, it would be foolish to attack, but so is camping hosts upon other Lord’s borders so openly.

Through all this Royce remains quiet. No forces from Redgrove have joined as far as we know. No actions from his hand. He has gone dark. And that concerns me more than the armies upon our borders.

Regardless, we await your response and will take any actions as necessary in the meantime. I will send word to Steadhold once I receive your response.

Seven help us all.
--Lord Protector of Blacksaithe and House Chelsted, Ser Dontos Malroy”

You glance up and Solhas points to the back of the tent, you follow after and find Ser Raymund Chelsted sitting unarmed with two of your Knights over him, who you wave off quickly having met the man before and recognizing his face.

“Dark words Lord Malroy,” he says after they leave.

You nod, pacing a little back and forth, “Have they attacked anyone? Harassed any of the smallfolk?”

“Not a soul my Lord. They remain camped, simply building siege engines and maintaining a strong perimeter,” Raymund responds rearming himself with his sword and dagger, “Ser Dontos is rightfully concerned but we have no cause to react. He had little choice but to send word to you, and hope you had a solution.”

You pause, flicking the two silver rings upon your pinkie in thought, “What else do you know?”

“Little else that is in the letter my Lord, I will answer all that I can though.”

>Questions for Ser Raymun Chelsted

>Any thoughts/plans for a response?

>Please refer to the map in, for general locations and ideas for the enemy camps.

Get Sual and our barrister to do something. Armies building siege on a neighbors border doesn't seem very healthy for that neighbor. Especially when they have grievances with said neighbor, call upon any who could help? Fuck get the Spider to stir shit or seven forbid Arryn.

Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?

They exactly don't have enough men to just storm our holdings. Prepare for siege

That's just what has been shown for now. I'm a bit concerned about what they have waiting in the wings if they are showing this much force.

Maybe inform the king that they are literally building warmachines at our border ?

That gotta be some manner of breach

Said their flying no colours.
We need to get them to officially declare who they are, then we can launch legal proceedings.

If they dont declare, we announce a massive suspected bandit build up on our boarders and ask the hand for aid.


The most likely scenario: We have them by the balls (though they think it be the other way round) with a prospective trial. We need to push things forward.


Save the letter, we can show it to Lord tarly as proof of these perfidious vermin trying to dishonourably attack us and our holdings. We can be straght forward and explain what we want and why.

We have to get official notice of who they are
(report this build up to the crown either way).

If they declare then we have eyes on them and they get demanded for a reason for what looks like a war build up, which allows the hand to act to help us.

If they dont declare then they are rebels/traitors and the crown can move to quash it.

Suspected* rebels/traitors/break the kings peace.

Either way, this shit is only going to fly for a short time if we draw attention to it.

I don't believe they have much proper forces outside those. Redward not moving is bad, but this situation is salvageable.

In Steadhold get the wall fixed is super high priority.

Redward not moving means hes looking to pick up the peices in the end chaos. His alliance has fractured to my reckoning. Its just these idiots being rash.

You raise good points, either they're suspected bandits or sellswords looking for an easy payout.

Either option means we can deal with them freely, they may declare openly their ties once pressed but we'll have finished the trail by then. Then if we've won the crown will crush them.

>Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?
>Ask when they showed up and how long they have camped there?
"The armies began to appear a week and a half ago, perhaps a week after you had left my Lord. I rode from Chelsted to Lannisport and then took ship here. I doubt I've ever ridden so far so quickly before in my life.

They built camp after three days and the vague forms of siege engines began to appear and that is when I left to deliver the letter."

As a general note. They have not yet to break the King's Peace. Lords do build warmachines upon occasion, though that point depends upon whether or not they plan to declare who they are.

Well we can snooker them on that:
When we took the princewood they had men there.

All we need is someone to verify it was indeed that lords men who were aiding the princewood bandits.

This shows a breach of the kings peace, and is justifyable reason to declaire their intent to be hostile towards us. Its then on their heads to prove otherwise. I doubt they have a good reason.

Note: We only need to include the aiding the bandits part, not that they were slaving. We just make a presumption comment about them looting and pillaging.

>When we took the princewood they had men there.
They didn't though. There were Dargood men and Bright Banner men. No one but the Captains had any awareness that they were serving anyone other than House Dargood. And that person was Royce. Not the Langwards or Blounts.

There were zero Langward or Blount men actively in the Princewood during your invasion.

Damn. And we need the captains who we captured to vouch for the slave ring. Hmm. So we dont have an easy declare of intent.


We could get obella to manufacture one somehow. Fake letters or somesuch, unless the spider would be willing to help us prevent a small war.


What we do know is that we are on a timer, and need to step up our plans pronto or risk losing this opportunity.

Are any of these men in the princewood?

If they are in the princewood, and the crown has acknowledged our subjugation and rightful claim of the area, then they are trespassing and we are within rights to do whatever necessary.

Lets just hope they arnt using our guest as causus belli. They could claim we have the heir to their house under lock and key as a front for a war. Which ways we should write up a statement under outside witness opposite to this.

Inform steadhold to prepare our own men

The Princewood is split into five different domains, owned by different Lords. House Malroy has never had full dominion over the whole of the Princewood. So yes, some of them are but as stated before none of them are crossing your or House Chelsted's borders.

Anyway this got a lot less discussion and question than I thought it would so I guess I'll see what I can put together for a vote on what to do.

>Do nothing until you return home from Highgarden and the Trial victorious
>Instruct Dontos to attack as bannerless men building siege engines sounds like well organized sellswords or outlaws
>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary
>Something else?

No matter what Steadhold will be prepared for siege, though not half as well as it could be with the Bridge still halfway useful and the outer most walls a year out from completion.

>>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

This is a tricky situation.

They are obviously waiting for the end of the trial to attack or disperse.

If we attack, they can claim that the men were lawfully conducting exercises within their own lands, waving their banners, and that House Malroy clearly violated the peace by attacking them and then trying to destroy the evidence of the banners.

How many men do Chelsted and we have in the respective sieged territories? If we fight defensively, we may not need to ask for help. Basically walls add 2 men for every one you have, and we have very good men with us.

But still, inform the Crown of what is occurring immediately. We need to control the narrative from the Crown's perspective.

Tell your men to start creating counter-seige weaponry and pallisades, draw out the siege if need be.

They will be on a time limit, and we can use that to our advantage.

No matter what Steadhold will be prepared for siege, though not half as well as it could be with the Bridge still halfway useful and the outer most walls a year out from completion.

We *need* to make that bridge a priority over the fucking small town. Dontos can't help reinforce us with our current rickety ass bridge, we should start on it's repair

>How many men do Chelsted and we have in the respective sieged territories?

600 Chelsted
310 Malroy, can recall another 200 but the Princewood will suffer for it, as will your Law score.

Alright so in almost 20 minutes I've gotten 2 votes and one kind of vote. On something that is important.

What's wrong?

Thisx1000 I can't help but worry every time we procrastinate on it.

>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary and this

I just got here and am catching up, sorry for being late.

>Contact Lord Jon Arryn & Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

Probably pissed hat whenever we a start gaining traction against our enemies enemies you always pull something else out of your ass?

I just got back from the gym myself, catching up

Nobody wants to make a big decision because they don't want to make the wrong one.

But as I wrote here...>Get arryn and Compton on that shit.

>contact Lord Jon Arryn and Saul Compton asking the Crown for aid in dispersing them peacefully, though with force if necessary

>Prepare smallfolk for a siege

Fuck off sleepy, speak for yourself. Langward was bound to suspect something and this response from them is a logical, albeit opportunistic strategy

This should be a given. We're a military house, we should prioritize reinforcing our weakened defensive structures for future military campaigns. The fact that we were more concerned about herb gardens and shit is ridiculous

Yeah, fuck the smallfolk with no houses and barely enough food to survive, we need more war stuff.

Now you're thinking like nobility

Its also desperate and very risky.

He cant ignore the crowns inquirys, we need to make sure its not cerci who gets ahold of our petition for aid, or she could delay it.

Should direct our correspondance to the crown through the hand.

Given that we're currently going through a cold war with Redward and his alliance, as well as the food shortages havings months before it was a serious concern giving the small folks jobs to reoair our holding for the time being seems like a better idea.

yeah the mill was a good idea. The greenhouses less so

Greenhouse was a concession to our wife. We wont need another like it again thankfully, we just need to navigate these rapid waters,

Was catching up. Contact the Hand and Saul to legalize our way out of this.

Hope Saul rolls godly and charm Jon into ordering the Blounts and Langly into "removing" these bannerless hosts as they are on their sides of the borders.

I just hope that Bobby B finds out that Blouts are on move. Wanting the mess with Cercei he comes to Steadhold personally to witness them.

Knowing how crazy Bobby is, and how utterly bored he is by now, yeah, he would probably do that. We would need a very solid platform of proof though. Pretty sure we would get burned with such an affair. Maybe add another bastard to our collection when he beds one of our serving maids.

We do though. We have Osten, his Saboteur, and the Lang-something son. Langward is fucked if we get to trial. Nothing really touches Royce except for him being stupid.

I mean to entice Bobby B to come over personally during the fighting.

The trial stuff will be handled in kings landing most likely, and he'll probably skip most of the tedious bits.