| Black Towers, Blacker Hearts | |
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| Topic Started: Feb 29 2008, 08:01 PM (130 Views) | |
| Athidoc | Feb 29 2008, 08:01 PM Post #1 |
Lord of Harrenhal
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The sun was rising, casting its piercing gaze upon the black spires of Harrenhal. The people below were going about their daily business, but now with a purpose. They knew what was coming. Everyone knew-how could you not? When the lord of the stronghold sent out a call to arms, it could mean only one thing: War was coming. And Lord Paulus Arund would be ready. Harrenhal had possessed no true standing army for some time, but when the lords over all Westeros were clearly preparing to march...there was no other option. And so they were working. The forges were heating up, just as the towers heated under the morning sun's gaze. Soon the din of hammer on unformed steel would fill the city. The soldiers would be in the yards, performing formations. The archers would refine their skills, taking practice shots at straw targets. The cavalry would run their steeds through the paces, readying them for the fights ahead. The army would rise. But there was one thing missing. They needed a general. Paulus was an agent of diplomacy, a master of coin, a warrior of the courts and councils. He knew how to hold a sword, and was not unfamiliar with the battlefield, but he was no tactician. And so Paulus, in his familiar seat overlooking his city, set the quill to the parchment and wrote the letter he would normally have done anything to avoid writing. The letter to summon their warlord. To summon Josaiah Arund. His brother. The man who had saved his life. The man he hated more than any other. Edited by Athidoc, Mar 1 2008, 01:51 PM.
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| Athidoc | Apr 5 2008, 03:14 PM Post #2 |
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Lord of Harrenhal
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Josaiah entered the great hall, his sore shoulder still wrapped in a thin bandage. "You're late," uttered Paulus. "I attended the Tourney," his brother replied. "And how did that go?" asked the Lord of Harrenhal sarcastically. Josaiah turned his head and flexed his arm, failing to conceal the wince that spread across his face. "Well enough," he replied. "Took a hit from Ser Brine." "Heh," said Paulus. He had always envied his brother's fighting prowess, and it always made him happy to hear that the man had been knocked on his ass. "And how proceeds the 'war'?" asked Josaiah, mimicking his brother's sarcasm. Paulus paused before murmuring, "Well enough." "You have not a man-at-arm to your name, do you?" "The coffers are overflowing. At any moment I could marshal a grand force." "Then why the delay? For weeks we have sat as the world around us burned. And now there are rumours that the war is coming to an end, and we haven't fought a single battle! Let me bring in the Bannermen and lead them. Give me archer and pikemen support. For a start." "Our lands are safely enclosed within our very powerful allies. There has been no need." "Who said anything about need? I'm talking about want!" "As I said, the coffers are overflowing. What else could I want?" "Conquest! The thrill of battle!...Ah, that's right. You lack the desire for such things." "Am I mad that I possess the will to live?" "A life of sitting on your bum counting coins. What life is that?" "The life I choose!" yelled Paulus, jumping to his feet. "Father would be disappointed." Paulus drew his sword. He had rarely used it, but he knew which end to point where. "You have no right to speak of him! It was you who...who..." "Killed him? Your memory is failing you. I threw him from that tower to prevent him from doing the same to you." Josaiah turned toward the doors. "At least your son has a spine." "Do not bring him into this!" "If you will not take action, then Thealos and I will." He began to walk away. "Josaiah," said Paulus, slumping to his seat. "Wait." His elder brother turned. "Yes?" He sighed. "I'll think about it." Edited by Athidoc, Apr 6 2008, 12:17 PM.
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1:22 PM Nov 30
