It's the year 8211: We are in the reign of King Aerys Targaryen. My name is Vahir Caron. I have one older brother, who has in turn one son. Not the biggest family, but we're happy. Well, I'm happy, since I'm the one sitting in the big chair.
I'm lord of Nightsong. It's a pretty impressive castle, certainly one of the largest not hoarded by one of the lord paramounts. While I do like to call myself a High Lord, I'm afraid it's currently only a pretend title, my status being a lowly lord sworn to Storm's End. I plan on changing that. The main objective of my life, I decide will be to achieve High Lordship, and see those pesky Selmy's and Dondarrions kneel before me. Hah!
Okay, let's get things started. First thing's first, we need wives, the three of us. I notice that the beautiful Shiera Seastar is unmarried: My brother remarks to me that she would make a fine wife for him. I concur, and marry her myself. Take that, brother
! Unbelievably, King Aerys deigns to grant me a fortune as a dowry:
Now, I COULD throw away all that money on frivolous tournaments and such. But I'm an intelligent, business-savy lord, and I know that money invested is money earned. So I use that fortune to build up Nightsong, expanding its commercial district and farmlands. That should do wonders for the economy, and more importantly, House Caron's coffers. With greed in my soul, I try the same trick again, with my nephew. It's... a little less impressive.
Well, no matter, time to look outward. I send my chancellor to fabricate a claim on Harvest Hall. That bastard Lord Selmy, just sitting there, not bending the knee to me, the gall he has! I was pleasantly surprised when barely a month had passed before a local septon offered to annoint me as a knight. I participate in the tourney of Blackhaven, where I handedly defeat the other competitors, including my own annoying nephew. While there, I admire the castle, and mentally made a note of how I wanted it redecorated once it was under my control.
Oh, and my wife popped out a son. He's called Har... Harbar? Herbert? Who the hell knows. He can't wield a sword, so I can't really say I care about him.
In January of 8215, I get wonderful news: My chancellor finally succeeded in forging a claim to Harvest Hall! But Lord Axel would probably object to my invading neighboring lands. Hm, better wait until an opportunity-
And then the Tyroshi went and launched a slave raid on Dorne. The king panicked, and declared that this was a KINGDOM-WIDE EMERGENCY. All bannermen, inclduding lord Axel, were called to arms. I use the chance to invade east. I smash Lord Selmy at the battle of Harvest Town, killing three of theirs for every Caron man that died, and set up a siege around the castle.
My wife popped out anoter child, a daughter this time. She's both intelligent and beautiful. Silently, I curse the gods that made her a second born, and a girl. She'd make a superb heir otherwise...
In 8215, the starving defenders of Harvest Hall surrender. I clap Lord Selmy in irons, throw him in my dungeon, and claim the castle for the Carons. With the two territories, I can now raise five thousand swords for my cause, making me one of the great lords of the Stormlands. I'm not satisfied, though, not until I achieve that High Lordship.
I get news from Storm's End, about how his son Lyonel returned from some voyage or another. The smug bastard.
Ooooh, look at this tough guy. He rides a boat around a bit, and everyone thinks he's so awesome. Screw that overachiever.
In 8217, another Blackfyre Rebellion erupts, as Haegon Blackfyre lands and presses his claim on the Iron Throne. It doesn't look good for ol' Targy: The Vale, the Westerlands, the Reach, and my own liege, Lord Baratheon, all oppose him. The only loyalists are the Dornish and the Riverlords. Knowing a lost cause when I see it, I follow my liege into war. Besides, I figure I'll need to be on Lord Axel's good side for my future plans.
In the middle of the civil war, King Aerys dies, and is succeeded by his insane brother Rhaegel. I hear that, at his coronation, he mistook several lords present for grumpkins, and tried to murder them. I suppose it's fitting that a failing dynasty has a failing king: The Targaryen armies are being crushed all over Westeros.
My attention being diverted, I fail to notice as Lord Tarly fabricates a claim on Nightsong. The whoreson, only I'm allowed to do that! Speaking of which, I fabricate a claim on the absurdly named lordship of Poddingfield. I figure Lord Axel is a bit too busy with his game of thrones to notice a small land grab in the marches. I figure wrong, apparently; Lord Baratheon labels me a traitor. I guess he really liked those Poddingfielders. Oh well, another castle falls to House Caron.
Finally, it happens. In may of 8218, having gathered enough gold, I establish myself firmly as the High Lord of the Dornish Marches. To celebrate, I distribute land generously to my supporters, granting castles for their loyal service. Winter arrives not long after. The sight of snow- snow!- outside is quite dismal. I'm literally at the door to Dorne, and that cold... wet... cold powder is still falling. As I shiver, I make a mental note to outlaw winter in my lands.
To take my mind of the frigid weather, I ride to Storm's End, where I plead with Lord Axel to transfer to me vassalage of the Dondarrions of Blackhaven. He politely disagrees, apparently still upset over that so called "treason" nonsense. Fine then, I just ask the Dondarrions directly. With swords. Lord Axel predictably objects, but what can he do? Label me a double-traitor? To hell you, "my lord".
I smash the Dondarrions at the battle of the Bonewatch, and set up a siege around Blackhaven. And then this happened.
Huh, I guess that does happens when you piss off your liege lord. Well, I know a lost fight when I see it, and am quite satisfied with what I accomplished in the last couple of decades. I opt to pack up and go to vacation at that famous resort in the north, the "Wall", I think they called it. I head the climate's wonderful.
I'm slightly worried about my son -who I vaguely remember exists- ruling by himself, but he should be fine. The spat with the Dondarrions should resolve itself quickly as soon as Blackhaven falls to our superior army, and at least Harby won't have to deal with being known as a traitor, the way I have. Let him have his turn, I say.
I'll send postcards from Castle Black!