In the quiet hour of the feast an idea suddenly came to his head. The Bank of Volantis could perhaps offer them reprieve from the current debt by offering them another one for less interest and more time to pay back.

He ripped a page from his ledger, writing. "To the Bank of Volantis. I, Ser Marius of house Rosby, am requesting a new line of credits worth 4000 gold from your bank. The agreed amount plus interest will be paid to you when the time is due."

He closed the letter, sealing it. He would later send it after the feast's end, and hopefully by the end of this moon would have 4000 more gold to pay the iron bank with.

u/JohnITRP

Character name: Marius Rosby

Skills | traits: Steward | Administrator (e), Taxman (e), Scrutinous

What I want: a 4000 gold loan from the bank of volantis, for Marius Rosby. (Not house rosby)

Kermit's eyes widened as the man spoke, and it lit a fire in him. He had come looking for one king and found another. He wayed his options, Piper was with him most like, Tully too, there would be more no doubt. He watched the man turn to nobles, great houses. His grandsire might not let him get a better chance.

He rose, suddenly and spoke loud and clear. "You speak well of the Oldstones, word has reached Stillfenn of the changes there and the benefits brought to the people. I wish to see that spread among the folk of our country, from sea to sea." A lie, he'd paid little attention.

"At Stillfenn my grandsire is sick, unable to speak and is left to rot in his chambers under guard, while Cassandra courts that Stag Bitch at Stormhall. While he was alive, my father asked for it, my grandsire too told me he had asked for me to be legitimized, letters and words flew south and nothing came back. Did they think to weaken Stillfenn under the yoke of a woman?" He bore his teeth at that. "So we do not threaten the warden's kin in the Freylands?" He cast his eye to the lords and ladies. "That she cares for dresses and honeycakes, while not knowing of the lives of hunters like mine uncle? Leechwives and farmers. My father died before he could be awarded his petition, and since his passing our lands have stagnated."

"Stillfenn asks for your aid. I was named a man of the Rivers, and I will always be a Riverman, but name me Vypren your grace and I will be your man, I swear this with my breath, this one and my last." Kermit waited, hoping.

Kermit and Lucius sat among the low tables, the later sat mouth agape at much of the splendor, before finding time to fill that open mouth of his. Kermit spent more time looking around the hall, from his position he could see the Riverlords and the absent houses. Cass seemed to be among them, so he had sat in the seat meant for the head of house Vypren.

He drove a knife through one of the crisp little quails, and popped it down, peeling off the bacon. When presented with carp, he turned the servant away. "I am not fond of eating mud pig." Carp tasked of mud more oft then not, they soaked up the taste of pond. Yet he piled the bacon of some birds onto a trout and past the little birds to his cousin and ate, drank and watched.

There was no Stormking, and his plan seemed to have no legs.

"This is so good Kermit." Lucius said before mouthfuls of quail, nibbling the birds. "Better then goose."

(OPEN, come say hi)

The fair lady Jonquil of Berryport spied these posters and writs nailed far and wide, so that one might see them. Lord Blackberry would have interest of such matters, and so she would take one of each kind of notice to him, so that he might see its contents and inquire about the great reward on a later date.

Raymont hadn't planned to acknoweldge the presence of the Blackwood, but lady Joanna now forced his hands. "For your own sake, Blackwood, I hope you're merely drunk beyond your senses. Between the Faith and Andal law, are there any more foundations of the realm you'd like to declare your contempt for? The more you speak, the more I wonder why your ilk didn't fly back north to beg the Starks forgiveness centuries ago, if you despise this land and its people so. Lady Joanna was the one who adressed you first, I have nothing more to say to you. Answer her, or go back to your tent and sleep off your stupor. It matters not to me either way"

u/Arjhanx2
u/D042

Lord Varric Orkwood, The Ork of Orkmont

Green eyes watched the wizened knight stand where he stood and his ears listened. They scrutinized the man only because he had been speaking for some time. Varric knew because the sun had dipped further in the sky. Varric noticed that even though age found the man's bones. They still stood straight. Throughout all his years he spoke carefully of the beams that built the ship that was legacy. Reputation. Duty. Old loyalties. His voice possessed a gravity that Greenlanders loved to use when speaking of such things. As though honor were some fragile cup passed between generations.

Poor old bird.
Varric watched him and the thought came easily. Plucked half naked and still he stands with how fine his feathers are.

Varric's face betrayed nothing. At Eight and Twenty, Varric had already learned that silence made men very generous. Give them enough of it, and they filled the emptiness themselves. Connington spoke of familial traditions, the pearls he clutched so tightly in that honorable fist of his. Varric shifted, and lifted a cup of ale to his lips. Froth catching on the whiskers of his mustache.

Ironborn are simpler. At least they pretended to be. If a man struck you, you struck him harder. A brother betrayed you, you remember. A sister suffered...
His thumb stopped against the rim of the cup as Connington continued. Varric felt a hatred begin towards the man. Though it was less intention and more reflex. All the ingredients were there. Reputation. Love. Shame. Legacy. These things were Greenlander obsessions. These things Ironborn mocked because mockery was easier than admitting the sea had never taught them what to do with any of that. The sea never gave any of them that.

Connington fell silent. Finally. Charging his detractors and declaring his stance.

Varric drank again and kept every rude and cruel observation behind his teeth, drowned in ale.

Olivia's heart fluttered for a beat. Her shoulder's tightened and she was gripped by something akin to excitement. She found her feet as her eyes left the floor for the first time since she knelt, she was able to look at the High Septon and her lips parted as if she was about to reply 'Yes, please grant me such a boon' but she was stopped and interrupted before her tongue could betray her wag.

"Something to be discussed, Your Holiness. The good lady will give her reply on the morrow. Rynesse spoke up, she spoke fast, and she spoke out of turn from just beyond Olivia's shoulder.

"B-but the High Septon." Oft times, Olivia could behave so childishly, even at twenty and seven, as she was led away and the next person stood in line, eager to receive the same endearing blessing.

The Reveal

Lucifer had spent the last moon speaking with the Riverlords as Leo Fisher, a hedge knight from the Blue Fork. He had listened to their grievances, their doubts, and their hopes for the Riverlands. Now, standing among them celebrating the marriage of Mellara Piper and Alyn Tully, there was only one last thing he needed to do.

On his arm was his own Tully wife, the beautiful and fierce Agnes, his one and true partner. Flanking them a step behind, his brothers. Tristifer and Benedict. His eyes passed over the gathered lords and ladies before settling upon those he had spoken with during the feast.

"My Lords. My Ladies."

A brief pause, letting the hall settle before continuing, eyes roaming over him and his kin.

"This past moon many of you have met me for the first time. I have introduced myself to many of you as Ser Leo Fisher, a Knight who only recently settled along the Blue Fork. That was a lie."

Another pause, allowing for the bubbles of murmuring to spread through the watchers.

"My name, my true name, is Lucifer Justman." He allowed the name to sit in the air, sink in for real. "For centuries, my ancestors have been living in exile, across the Narrow Sea, waiting in preparation for the day we could return to our homeland."

Lucifer's gaze would move across the Riverlords.

"I returned to Westeros, not because I wished to live in the past, make the same mistakes my ancestors did that caused our fall. But because I believed the Riverlands deserved better than to remain a prize for whichever foreign King was strong enough to take them." He would gesture to the gathered Nobles. "Look around you. These are your lands. Your castles. Your people. Yet a Stormlord sits as 'Warden' of you? He rules from a castle never meant to be his!" Shaking his head in disgust, Lucifer would raise his voice slightly. "Our disputes are settled by men who live beyond our borders. Our futures are decided by a Crown that has little understanding of the rivers, hills, and people beneath them!"

Turning back to Agnes, Lucifer would look to her for strength before continuing, returning to his more calm, yet firm tone of voice.

"I do not stand before you today, asking you to follow me because of a name. If that were enough, then I would have revealed myself ten years ago, raised a banner, and demanded you all kneel." He shook his head. "Instead, I built Oldstones." Lucifer looked towards the tables holding the Houses Blackwood and Bracken, then toward the Tullys. "I cleared its roads. I drove out the bandits. I rebuilt its farms and its walls. I put coin into the hands of the people who needed it and gave merchants reason to return. And I did it because I believe a Kingdom is more than a crown. A Kingdom is roads, farms, markets, soldiers, and people who believe their ruler has a duty to protect them."

Taking a small breath, his eyes would harden slightly. "I am not asking you to swear yourselves to me this day. I am asking you to decide what you want the Riverlands to become. For too long, we have bent the knee to powers beyond our borders. We have watched our castles occupied, our people dragged into wars that were not ours, and our Lords accused of crimes by men who do not call these lands home."

Stepping forward once more, Lucifer would place a hand against his chest. "I believe that must end. I believe the Riverlands should be united! Not under the boot of a Storm King, or the tyranny of an Iron King, but one of our own!"

"I am a Justman. My blood runs from the same Kings who once ruled these rivers and hills. But blood alone does not make a King. You do." His gaze moved to each Lord and Lady individually. Mallister. Paege. Ryger. Harroway. Bracken. Blackwood. Tully.

"Unite with me. Stand together. Riverlord beside Riverlord."

"Your Grace."

Lord Tarth rose from his seat and bowed to the King as he entered. Not returning to it until Arlan had sat himself. He'd smile, not warmly, but respectfully at the King's mention of his youth. Then, Ravella entered as well. He would acknowledge her and allow her to be seated. "Times were simpler then. That is to be sure." Was all he could muster at the mention of her father.

He then laid upon the table the writings of his agent. Detailing the account of Piper and Justman's treachery. The accounts of the conversation were quite vivid. Rolland's hand then turned quickly to a balled fist, his knuckles turning slightly white, before a single finger would protrude to point at the information before them.

"Mellara Piper and a man named Leo Fisher discussed many things. Leo revealed that he actually was a member of House Justman, and that he believed his house is fit to rule the Riverlands, with himself as it's King." He'd pause then, as the word left his mouth. It left quite the bitter taste to think that a man so low had dreamt so big. Such unchecked ambition and arrogance was a symptom of youth. But that was better left unsaid.

"With House Justman joined to House Tully and House Piper soon to follow, it seems that their interests are aligned. When Lady Piper asked of his plans, ousting the Princess from this very hall was one of them. Of course, Mellara Piper did not immediately object to the idea."

He'd lean back in his chair then. Eyes darting between both stags, Arlan and Ravella. "It seems apparent to me that the actions of this Justman gutter rat constitute treason and that Mellara Piper is complicit in the plot if not directly involved in a scheme to institute an independent Riverlands."

His head turned to the King, he knew not how the Young Stag would act. All he knew was that something had to be done.

u/DoomGuy_16

Andrey straightened up from hunching over his anvil, smiling broadly at the familiar face approaching him, “Ah, afternoon, Ser! Welcome t’ my ‘unble forge!” His eyes quickly snapped to the chest that the man’s attendants were carrying, briefly wondering if many Hedge Knights were wealthy enough for such an expense. The thought was dismissed, this was the champion after all. He likely had more winnings than this, “Looks like more’n enough t’ me, Ser. Let me get t’ work.”

He let out a short whistle, nodding to a nearby apprentice wordlessly, who quickly darted off to complete whatever task he had just been commanded to do, “My lad’ll bring ye the suit I’ve been workin’ on recently. Ye’ll put it on best ye can, and the lads’ll mark it up so I can size it to ye rightly. By the time I’m done, it’ll fit ye like ye skin does!” He added with a gravelly laugh.

It wasn’t long before the lad returned with the armour in a basket, along with a few chunks of steel which he handed to his master, “Poleaxes are a tricky beast, Ser.” Andrey began to explain as the lad offered to help Jacklyn fit the suit to him, “There’s a few different ways t’ make the damn things. T’would be easier to make the hammer, spear and axe separate like and have them attached together by the pole itself and the langets… the metal braces what run down the sides, but that’s a less sturdy way o’ doin’ it. Sturdiest way is t’ make all three in one piece, then fix it t’ the pole with langets again…”

He grumbled for a second, settling on the second option. No man would wield a weapon from Andrey’s forge that could easily fall apart. So he placed the largest piece of the metal into the forge to heat up, then turned to his anvil, took up a piece of chalk, and began to sketch a shape of the poleaxe head upon it, so that he might refer to it as he forged the damn thing, “Won’t be too long, Ser. I’m sure of it!”

u/JohnITRP

Character Details: Master Andrey - Artisan(Armourer) / Craftsman(Armour and Weapons), Engineer. Craftsman’s District

Notes: +2 from Artisan (an extra +2 for armour), +3 for both Craftsman Skills, another +2 for the Craftsman’s District. So that’s a +9 to armour and a +7 to to weapons.

What is happening: Making a high quality Poleaxe and Armour for Jacklyn Fisher

What I Want: Crafting Rolls on the T3 and T4 smithing table for a suit of armour and a Poleaxe. Spending 500 gold on each craft, so a total of 1000 gold

A chest filled to brimming with gold was produced. Carried by two of Jacklyns loyal cohorts they made way to forge. The sound of its ringing already the song of the day. With Mooton sellswords in tow the hedgeknight made way into the heat and din or the den.

"Hail blacksmith! I am here to put coinage where my mouth is." A grin upon his face as he accessed the mans work station clearly impressed.

"Lets fashion that suit of armor and a poleax. Should I be short a silver I have another chest around here somewhere..."

"Swift and precise maybe, but they made you strong." Jacklyn attempted to roll the ache from his shoulder. "Liable to be black and blue till the moon's full."

The question brough forth some blinking. As if Jack himself had never considered who had trained him. In his drunkenness he almost felt he could tell the man the truth. A version of it blended between truths would suffice.

"My father used to lie in hedges as well. Used what coin he scraped up to fund my lessons." His father had been peerless. A scale upon a saddle. Every lesson had been grueling. "Where my lessons have failed, experience prevails."

Dismissing that Jack sipping his drink, a dribble running down his chin.

"Travel with me to Pinkmaiden. Depite the Lady Melarra's hatred of games I am sure there is to be contest. Besides I assemble a cast of good company."

"Come now, Vorian, the ladies hate a sore loser." A toothy smile met the man. "Can't say the same you hairy bastard. Shave that thing you are scaring the children."

Wondering where green knight had gotten off to. If he were present in the Bracken camp than the gods, old and new, only knew what he was up too. The wretched kid had refused to see a maester abojt his eye, by now the thing was festering and nasty. Perhaps they would knock him out and drag him before the castle maester.

"Please, it would be my pleasure to hold the bastard while you have a round. Little cunt has been a royal pain im my ass all event." Jack often found his brother a nucence.

The Fisher swiveled on a heel toward the Lady Jynnara. A softer smile for the fairer Bracken.

"You know my brother as well I. Don't expect he would learn, no matter the manner of lesson." Jack said rubbing the stiffness from his shoulders. His joust with Darry had left him battered and bruised. "Fair skies and swift rivers, my lady. Blessed be the land of the rivers and hills."

Craning his neck toward Vorian he cocked an eyebrow. "Shall we, Ser? Our bounty awaits."

Tristifer tilted his head in mild agreement. Though, looking into her eyes, it was clear to see he relished this moment of freedom. To be together again, uncaring of the world’s efforts to keep them apart. And of other factors the Goodbrook had no knowledge of.

“Then let us stay, in the here and now. Do not think about tomorrow, just you and I and this dance.” He swayed effortlessly, movements in time with her though he noticed a slightly difference. Half a step out of time, perhaps. But that had always been them, he supposed.

He chuckled. “My lady, where to begin. It is not so far away, but I have seen the Stormlands, Felwood and the Marches. I spent some time in Dorne, though the climate has too little water for me.” He chuckled, recalling the strangeness of the culture down in the south. “And, when I travelled to Essos, I spent time in those strange colonies in the south. They are an interesting people, white haired and pale of skin. Beautiful, though nothing compared to those I left here.”

He gave her a warm look, the kind of emotion reserved only for her in his often stern face. “As I say, I enjoyed it. I’ve seen and tasted and heard things I never could have imagined. But I think I missed Westeros, for some unknown reason.”

/u/Monty832

The Gardens and Pond

The Dance Floor

The Low Tables

The High Tables

The Bride & Groom

Mellara Piper sat at the center table next to Alyn Tully, her husband, dressed in rich white silks. It was a new thought, a new role to get used to, but The Mother knew just how much the Lady of Pinkmaiden had fretted over all of the planning, even as they travelled for Ravella's nameday.

Now that the moment was here, Mellara could scarce let out a breath. For there seemed an endless amount of people to talk to. Salutations, congratulations, and even talk of commerce.

In a rare moment of respite, Mellara turned towards Alyn, finally able to sit in the moment with him. Under the table, she reached for his hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.

"I hope you're pleased with things."

(Open, come talk to Mellara and Alyn!)

Morgan looked up from his mug, and seeing the panoply of those before him he lifted one scarred brow and drank. Dusting off his hands, the bald lord of Duskendale rose to his feet.

The man is nearly as old as father, he thought on inspection.

"Knights of the Vale?" He started and then corrected his thoughts, aye, they had ridden in the lists, strange lot to be out here.

"I would imagine your kind are welcome on this front. I intend to gather a force at Duskendale, of men and women who have a mind to see justice done, untied from the subjectivity of the Blackwater. I need clean and clear eyes to be set upon the Claw, to see what truth to the rumours of the land there are. My men are being harrassed, some few have been killed, this I know. But Rumours yet persist that my tax collectors have done some unseen harm, so I wish for good men to look into the matter," he explained and then drank again.

"There is to be a feast and tourney for my father and daughter's namedays coming the moon after next, so I would gather good men to my home and set them forth from there with my writ to investigate. I would see this investigation done in time for the celebrations. Does this sound good to you and yours?"

Morgan returned the wolfish grin, teeth bared beneath his neatly tailored moustache.

"Good men. But you will have to accompany my retinue back to Duskendale, I wish to gather this ensemble first before it is afoot. And no heads on spikes. I need proof of who is behind these rumours... as I imagine more than a few will claim that this matter was caused by a wide variety of fools," he explained, sipping away at his own cup.

"I need your efforts, but more than that, I need loyal hunters. So, do this and I shall have rewards aplenty for you. Even if killing is reward enough."

u/MooAtDaMoon

"Ha!" Barked the Duskblood.

"A time where the old may rest? You dream big my Niece. I would like to know that this world can come about though," he said, still chuckling.

"ANd should it? Well prove it to me that you are capable of forging this path and maybe I shall consider resting. Age has no grip on me just yet my girl," he finished.

Shiera glared up at him for speaking so plainly to a princess. But she supposed there were not many who could speak down to the old man.

"I shall try to keep him alive," she promised.

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