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| Athidoc | Oct 6 2008, 05:35 PM |
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Lord of Harrenhal
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Lord Reven Vandelay sat in the room he was using in the single tower overlooking Saltpans. It had belonged to the Direwolf, once. Then to the northmen. Now it was his. A knock sounded at the door. "Enter," replied Reven. The door swung open, and there stood Grouthe. Reven jumped to his feet. "You're back." The man, Reven's Second, nodded, leaning against the door frame. "The battle. Lord Harroway's. Did we...?" "Win? Indeed," was the reply. "But only barely. The southerners know how to fight, that much is evident." "The northmen too..." Reven said, bowing his head. Suddenly he looked up, his demeanor much more cheerful, unusually so. "But we won. Both battles! The war is progressing well." "Have you been locked in this room for days?" replied Grouthe, sharing none of the young Lord's enthusiasm. "There is news. Much news." "Speak, then," said Reven, taking his seat again, looking surly once more. "The Bull's forces at the Eyrie have retaken the Bloody Gate from the Ironborn. And the northmen have held at East Bridge. Black's forces are crushed." "Damn," muttered Reven. "We must-" "There is more," interrupted Grouthe. Reven narrowed his eyes, unused to such disrespect. This was Grouthe, however, his lifelong friend. The only man who could get away with it. "The Southrons approach the capital from the south. The men of Deep Den have elected to make a stand. Their numbers...are few. They will be no more than a fly gnawing at the Bull's hide." "But...the force at King's Landing! Have they-" "King's Landing will fall. There is no doubt." "Then there is hope yet. Let's-" "There is more, I am afraid. The most dire news of all." "You-you are joking. After all that..." Grouthe merely shook his head before continuing: "Sunspear is besieged. Lord Cenedil has sent for aid." Reven took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly. So much, so fast. After a series of victories, it had seemed they were unstoppable. But now... "He shall have it." said Reven slowly. "Send everything we can spare. Send tell to the Ironmen, if they haven't recieved word already. The Arryns must hold. Sunspear cannot fall." Reven rose to his feet. "There is much to be done. Come, quickly-" "One last thing," said Grouthe, reaching into a pouch on his belt. He drew out a letter and slowly offered it to Reven. The young lord took it, eying it as one would a serpent. The seal. It was... "The mark of the Bull," said Grouthe. Reven did not reply, instead opening the letter slowly and cautiously as if fearing it would explode. He read it through quickly, then once again more thoroughly. Its meaning was clear. The lord of Oldtown wished to gather all the Lords. To seek an end to the conflict. An end to the bloodshed. Reven gave the letter to Grouthe. Thoughts spun through his head as he waited for his comrade to finish. Grouthe had no response, no words of input or advice. All he said was, "Well, Lord?" Reven turned to his table and grabbed a quill and parchment, writing the following: Is this true, then, Lord of Oldtown? That you seek an end to the war? My heart screams for me to refuse, to continue this fight to the bitter end. But my mind sings a different tune. A good general seeks any available avenue towards victory. But a good lord seeks every path towards peace. I have decided which road I will take. I will attend this council and work to the greatest extent of my ability to bring peace to a shattered land. And I pray that the gods will open the eyes of the others, that we may end this conflict before it ends us. -Lord Reven Vandelay |
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| A Call to a Grand Council · Diplomacy | |





7:22 AM Nov 27