Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

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Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Bradok » Thu Sep 29, 2016 03:17

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When I first decided to write an AAR I could not quite make my mind up on how exactly I wanted to run things. I had three good play-throughs going that I had saved screen-shots for so I initially planned on going with one of those. I quickly realized well into writing my first chapter that when backlogging an old game like what I had chose options for story development end up being fairly limited. So, creating a fresh save, I started as Ramsay Bolton in Feast for Crows. I played as Ramsay for about five years when I started getting really tired of my interpretation of the character. I am keenly aware I am no literary virtuoso and felt the way I was writing Ramsay would not do the true character justice. It was around that time that I was looking through Ramsay's vassals and saw Harrion Greyfuir. He had really good stats, even before I messed around with the console to beef him up, and the name Greyfuir seemed pretty cool to me. I kicked the Mollens out of Dawnforest a little after that and landed him, then used the play command to make him my character.

I wanted to create an established history for the family before I started writing as Harrion. I decided to play through until he was about forty before beginning my first chapter. A little before that I ended up having a Bastard on him. That is when this AAR actually took off. I've never played as a bastard on CK2 because it is relatively easy to avoid having one at all unless your really want to. Bryce, the protagonist of this AAR, was originally planed to be the overall villain of House Greyfuir on down the line. Really ruthless, vindictive, ferocious, character that would stop at nothing to see his goals accomplished. His character concept seemed so interesting that in the end this AAR switched over and became solely about Bryce and his compatriots.

Rules:
1. No save scamming. Whatever happens in the story happens.
2. Limited control of multiple character is allowed. To keep the story moving in the right direction characters need to be nudged from time to time.
3. Limited use of the console is allowed. This is mainly allowed to stop repeating civil wars and to undo stupid decisions made by the AI.

Objectives:
1. The one and only objective is to progress the story until it finds a suitable end.
Last edited by Bradok on Mon Oct 10, 2016 02:45, edited 1 time in total.
Bradok
 
Posts: 11
Joined: Sun Aug 16, 2015 03:51

Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Bradok » Thu Sep 29, 2016 03:50

Prologue- Black Blood
"He was young and foolish. Heart made of glass and carrying the burden of a bastard. Had we known then what we do now mayhaps our brother, would still be our brother." - Exert from the diaries of Wyl Greyfuir
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It was cold out. A wisp of white air blew through the courtyard before rising and disappearing over the castle walls. The chill hit Bryce causing him to tug his overcoat tighter around his small shoulders before once again wiping his face. His eyes had already swollen into two large puffy balls lined with streaks of tears that ran down his face. Inside he could hear them. His father, his brothers and sisters, all the lords and ladies that had come the Glencastle for the wedding. Their merriment and revelry was made in good fun as it was meant to, but each and every laugh or cheer broke Bryce's heart all the more. Another sniffle would erupt from Bryce before he turned and stormed off towards the stables.
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Today was his brother, or rather half-brother, William's wedding feast. The first event of its kind to come to Glencastle in Bryce's short life. He had waited eagerly for it to arrive, waited for a chance to see the great personages that were said to attend, but on the morning ill tidings came to Bryce. In the form of his father's wife. She had made it clear that no bastard would be allowed inside the halls on her son's day of days. Whether or not her husband had accepted Bryce into his house mattered little to her and with one wave of her hand he was escorted outside to await his father's presence. When the old man finally made his way into the courtyard Bryce had thought he had come to his defense. Such was not the case.
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"She was hard on you eh?" Harrion had said with little tack or grace, his coarse voice just loud enough to cut through the wind. "I'm sorry lad, it wasn't her right to remove you like that."

Bryce had tried to be strong then. He held back his tears and wants for the sake of his father and his pride, a decision he regretted now. Perhaps if he would have just played the spoiled child then he would be in there now. "Its alright father, it's not as if I don't know why Lady Gwyn was upset." So strong for one his age he thought, yet so foolish.

"Aye, true enough little one." Harrion smiled as he placed his hand atop Bryce's head and rustled his hair. "Good to know there's at least one other rational man in Dawnforest." A sigh then parted the old lord's lips causing his smile to vanish. "You've always been a tough boy Bryce, tougher than any of the others at your age. So I need you to be tough for me now." Harrion's cold dark eyes fell over Bryce as he gripped the boy's shoulder. "Humour my silly wife for me and stay out of the hall until our guests leave. Can you do that for me?"

Bryce fell silent, his own eyes adverting from his father's gaze and locking themselves to the ground. The tears came, he could not hold them back any longer. "Yes father. I can." He did not look up towards his sire. He would simply feel the man's grip loosen on his shoulder and hear the footsteps fade into the distance.

Those had been the events of the morning, of a day that refused to end. Long since had the sun began to wane in the sky as Bryce remained alone with his self pity. He had taken to the training yard not long ago after he found sulking in front of the Great Hall pointless and tiring. Wooden blade in his hand Bryce lashed out at the dummies with all his might. Strikes made of anger of hate, not the discipline his father had drilled into him time and time again. "This is for kicking me out of the hall!" He thought as he smashed the blunted blade against the head of straw-men. "This is for calling me bastard! This is for looking down on me!" He recited such in his mind like the words of a mantra. The faces of his father's wife and those of his siblings taking turns as his imaginary victims. Each playing the part of the villain in his young mind.
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At some point during his bout of madness, his anger had turned to tears. Bryce felt their cold tinge on his cheek each time the wind brushed his face, he could hear his sobs echoing off the stone walls as clear as day. Yet he ignored it all. He had been raised an equal son to his father by all rights. He bore his father's name, lived in his father's home, ate at his father's table, and had never once believed he was thought of as anything more than another of his father's children. On this day he realized it all to be a lie. The Lady Gwyn had made it clear he was not welcome in her family. Even his brothers and sisters refused to speak to him for most of the day. Out of the four of them only William had stopped to speak with him, and only briefly. Bryce had asked why William's mother hated him so much and his response had been: "It's your black blood little brother." Bryce slammed his fist into the training dummy. He bled red.
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"Bryce!" A shriek cut through the training yard drawing the young boy's attention. "What in the name of the Gods are you thinking!" It was his mother, Jeyne, her eyes wide with panic as she stormed through the snow and approached her son. Hands hands quickly snatched Bryce's injured hand and looked it over. Her fingers soft and kind as she squeezed the little fist bit by bit in her grasp. Then she stopped and sighed, letting her shoulders relax and her eyes close.

"Mother?" Bryce looked at with puzzled look. "Whats wron-..." Her palm crashed into his cheek, knocking young Bryce to the ground.

"I am the one that should be asking what is wrong with you." Her voice was quiet, and cold. "Do you think breaking your hand will make them feel sorry for you Bryce." Her eyes opened and narrowed on the young boy still sitting in the snow. "Well, do you?"

Bryce balanced himself slowly and rose from the ground. His eyes welled up with tears as he felt the burning of his cheek and the disappointment of his mother. "N...no." He stammered through his breaths.

"Then why Bryce, why do this?" The harshness in her tone began to dissipate and the mother he knew began to emerge. She knelt in the snow and kissed his cheek. "You do not have to prove anything to anyone."

"But...but..." He cried as he buried his face in his mother's chest. "I wanna be a real Greyfuir, like Wyl and Lietta." Bryce cried. "I wanna be a Grey Fox too. Just like father!"

Jeyne wrapped her arms around Bryce as he sobbed, her hands stroking the back of his head as a boy of ten devolved into a babe once more. He was still a child. He was still her child. "I know its hard sweetheart, I do, but you're different than your brothers and sisters. Thats just how the Gods willed it, but you know what?"

Bryce stifled his tears and looked up towards Jeyne. "What mother?" He managed to squeak out.

"I wouldn't had it any other way." Jeyne grinned before pinching Bryce's nose lightly and wiggling it. "If you can't be a Grey Fox then be a black one instead. I think it fits you better anyway!"

Smiling Bryce leaned away from his mother and wiped his eyes and nose. "Yeah, you think so?" He nodded in excitement as he spoke.

"I know so." Jeyne giggled before standing and kissing the top of Bryce's head. "Now, go and play. When you're ready come to my room. I don't want you to catch cold." Then she walked away. All of Bryce's troubles and burdens she had cured in a few simple words. Bryce loved her dearly, and so too did Harrion. So much so that when she became pregnant with Bryce he had moved her into a room in the keep. Where she had been ever since. Bryce knew that his father loved her and her him, and so too did he know how much Lady Gwyn hated them for it.
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That was neither here nor there for young Bryce though. He might have wished for his mother's happiness but the mind of a ten year old was more often than naught prone to flights of fancy than the realities of the world. He had been spurned by his family today but no longer mourned such. After all how could he? He was the Black Fox, and had black blood running through his veins. A howl then rose across the moors as Bryce disappeared into the confides of his father's keep. Preparing for morning lessons with Maester Florian, and preparing for things to come.
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Last edited by Bradok on Wed Oct 05, 2016 19:33, edited 2 times in total.
Bradok
 
Posts: 11
Joined: Sun Aug 16, 2015 03:51

Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Bradok » Fri Sep 30, 2016 05:37

Chapter 1- Through Strength of Arms
"Bryce, or Lord Greyfuir. Whatever you want to call him. He wasn't ready for all that. When you're young like we were then you wanna fight or bed every other thing you see. Add a lot of bottled up shite to that, yet get what happened at that melee." -Marlon Amber to a man of the smallfolk

State of the Realm 331AL
Spoiler: show
The Iron Throne:
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Ruler-
    King Edric 'Storm', the Scourge of Breakstone Hill, of House Baratheon. First of his name, son of Robert 'the Usurper' of House Baratheon, now sits on the Iron Throne.

    His Seat is The Red Keep of King's Landing.

    Edric gained power in 313AL after leading a coalition of Stormlanders and Reachmen in a bloody, but short, rebellion.

    His rule has been turbulent, fraught with countless small uprisings and many large ones. Most notably being then Dornish and Westerman wars for independence, and the successive Ironborn Rebellions.

    Edric's current wife is Queen Lanna the Suspicious Lion of House Lannister. Daughter of Lady Paramount Myrcella of the Westerlands. They have two daughters. Princesses Roelle and Jocelyn, of ages 3 and 1.

    Edric has ruled for eighteen years.
Status-
    For first time since the War of the Five Kings the Iron Throne is at peace. No wars internal or external are being waged by the crown at this time.

    The Iron Throne retains all traditional territories, and in part has expanded into the Summer Islands due to the efforts of the Ironborn.

    Military strength is minimal due to years of civil war but has begun to rise.

The Westerlands:
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Ruler-
    Lady Paramount Myrcella 'the Perceptive Lion' of House Lannister. Daughter of Robert 'the Usurper' of House Baratheon and Cersei of House Lannister, rules the Westerlands.

    Her Seat is Casterly Rock.

    Myrcella gained power in 327AL after former Paramount Tywell the Greatlion, son of Tommen Lannister, failed his rebellion for Westerman independence and was stripped of his titles.

    Under her rule the Westerlands have been at a relative, if uneasy, peace. She has supported the crown in several small skirmishes and largely contributed to victory against the Ironborn in their last rebellion. Going against her heritage, Myrcella is one of the crown's most loyal subjects.

    Myrcella's current husband is Mycah Dea, a landless Hill Clansman Lord. They have three daughters. Queen Lanna and the twins Ladies Eglantine and Tyressa; of ages 21 and 2.

    Myrcella has ruled for four years.
Status-
    The Westerlands are at peace, waging no internal or external wars.

    The Westerlands have retained all traditional territories, as well as acquired the lordships of Kanet and Oakenshield.

    Constant wars with it's enemies for decades has tapped the strength of the Westerlands. It's only saving grace is the immense wealth the territory holds, which has allowed Westermen lords to recover their losses.

The Reach:
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Ruler-
    Lord Paramount Raymund 'the Unworthy' of House Tyrell. Son of Ser Olymer of House Tyrell and Lysa of House Meadows, rules the Reach.

    His Seat is Southshield.

    Raymund gained power in 317AL after leading the Reachmen in revolt against former Paramount Tywell the Greatlion of House Lannister.

    Under his rule the Reach has known constant infighting. Many Reachmen consider him a poor ruler and often raise arms in hopes of seating other Tyrells as lords of the Reach. As of yet none have been able to accomplish said task, so Raymund remains Lord Paramount.

    Raymund's current wife is Jhaeira of House Durwell. They have two daughters. Ladies Jhaeira and Jancia, of ages 26 and 22. His marriage is matrilineal.

    He has ruled for fourteen years.
Status-
    The Reach is currently waging an offensive war on Lord Paxter of House Wythers in attempt to reclaim lost territory.

    The Reach has lost several territories to independent rulers. These include the Highlordships of Highgarden and Brightwater; the Lordships of Catswold, Holyhall, Wythers, The Ring, and Roseford. Territories claimed by other kingdoms are, Greyshield by the Iron Islands and Oakenshield by the Westerlands. The one territory acquired by the Reach is Nightsong of the Stormlands.

    As a whole the Reach remains strong. Since the ascension of Raymund they have neither waged war on their neighbors nor supported them when asked for aide. The actual Lordship of the Reach though holds little power. Having lost many territories to civil war, including the powerful force of Highgarden, the Lord Paramount commands little power.

The Stormlands:
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Ruler-
    Lord Paramount Casper, second of his name, of House Wylde. Son of Lord Paramount Imry of House Wylde and Melessa Yronwood, rules the Stormlands.

    His Seat is Rain House.

    Casper gained power in 330AL after the death of his father Imry.

    A babe of just 3, Casper has yet to set course for his rule instead allowing Meryn of House Codarrion to rule in his stead as Lord Regent.

    Casper has no wife nor children.

    He had ruled for one year.
Status-
    The Stormlands are currently waging no internal nor external wars.

    The Stormlands have retained all traditional territories of its realm, save for Storm's End which is held by the king and Nightsong taken by the Reach, but neither has it expanded its borders.

    The Stormlands are the preeminent power in Westeros. Currently it boasts the largest standing military force which has alloted the Stormlords a great deal of respect and fear. It is rumored that even the King, whom was throned in no small part thanks to the lords of the Stormlands, has even cast a worrying eye upon them.
Dorne:
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Ruler-
    Prince Quentyn of House Martell. Son of Princess Arianne of House Martell, rules Dorne.

    His Seat is Sunspear.

    Quentyn gained power in the early months of 331AL after the death of his mother.

    Having ruled for only a few months Quentyn has yet to set course for his rule. It is known though that many Dornish nobles have high hopes for the young Prince.

    Quentyn had no wife nor children.

    He has ruled for only a few months.
Status-
    Dorne is currently waging no internal nor external wars.

    Dorne has retained all traditional territories of its realm, but neither has it expanded its borders.

    Dorne suffered a terrible and crushing defeat at the hands of Stannis of House Baratheon during it's war to throne Aegon of Essos on the Iron Throne. It has since recovered from the tragedy but has stuck to its own devices thus far.

The Riverlands:
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Ruler-
    Lord Paramount Royce of House Baelish. Son of Petyr Littlefinger of House Baelish, rules the Riverlands.

    His Seat is Harrenhal.

    Royce's rule has been a steady one thus far, if not an uncomfortable one. After Petyr took hold of the Riverlands and banished Edmure to the Wall, the line of House Tully was extinguished. Though many Riverlords still hold anomosity for Royce and his family, with no living Tullys to press a claim for, his reign has been a secure one.

    Royce is married to Lady Margaery of House Tyrell, former Queen of the Iron Throne. They have no children.

    He has ruled for nine years.
Status-
    The Riverlands are currently waging no internal nor external wars.

    The Riverlands have retained most of their traditional territory, but have lost a few lordships to other realms. Namely being Kanet to the Westerlands, Shoreham and Stillfen to the direct control of the Iron Throne, and Atranta to the Kingsguard.

    The Riverlands have been on the slow track of restoration for many years now. The majority of its territories being lost the Euron Crow's Eye of House Greyjoy during his reign as Iron King. Though the territories have since been reclaimed, the mark of the Iron Born has still been left on the land.

The Vale:
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Ruler-
    Lord Paramount Robert 'the Stuttered Falcon' of House Aryn. Son of Jon of House Aryn and Lysa of House Tully, rules the Vale.

    His seat is The Eyrie.

    Though frail in body, Robert has been able to rule the Vale with surety for many years. Having reigned through, but not taken part in, many of the civil wars that shook the realm and the invasion of a Hill Clansman King, he has managed to provide peace of mind to his retainers and provide safety to his people. In recent years though many of his closest advisors have advised him to press his claim on the Riverlands, yet he is reluctant to attack the son of the man whom raised him. That coupled with the encroaching Greyscale upon his flesh has made many wary of his rule in future years.

    Robert is married to Leana of House Frey. They have five children. Lord Jon, Lord Pearse, Lady Fiona, Lord Horas, and Lord Ondred; of ages 12, 10, 5 for the twins, and 2.

    He has ruled for thirty-four years.
Status-
    The Vale is Waging no internal nor external wars.

    The Vale has retained all its traditional territories, save for Ninestars which is under the control of the Most Devout.

    The Vale is the second most powerful force in Westeros. Their biggest strength through the years of Robert's rule has been its avid neutrality. They have fought one war with their peers since the time of Robert 'the Usurper', that to install Petyr Baelish as Paramount of the Riverlands. Since then they have done nothing but protect the Vale. The bloodiest conflict most Valemen have seen in decades was with a petty clansman that would call himself king. A story which ended in short order.

The Iron Islands:
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Ruler-
    Lord Paramount Victorian 'the Strong' of House Greyjoy. Son of Quellon of House Greyjoy and Elvira of House Sunderly, rules the Iron Islands.

    His seat is Pyke.

    Victorian Greyjoy seceded his brother as ruler of the Iron Born, reigning as Iron King for near fifteen years. While the greenlanders struggled amongst themselves the Iron Born cut a bloody swath through the Riverlands ranging from Seagard to the gates of Harrenhal itself. During this time Edric 'Storm' would become king and deliver terms to the Reavers. Bend a knee and they would keep all lands they had taken. Euron refused, and was cut down. Victorian led a long and costly defense of the Riverlands before eventually being pushed back to the Iron Islands where he was forced to cede all stolen titles and bend the knee. In 316AL he would rebel against the greenlanders again, waging a war that lasted six years before once again being defeated. He was able to retain the seat of Lord Paramount, but only in name. Having lost all sanity and sense, whether from old age or evil machinations.

    He has no living wife and no living children.

    Collectively as Iron King and Lord Paramount, Victorian has ruled for thirty-two years.
Status-
    The Iron Islands are currently waging wars in the Summer Islands.

    The Iron Islands retains all traditional territories, including the lordship of Greyshield and the High Lordship of The Three Exiles.

    After countless years of war with the greenlanders the Iron Born are at a highly weakened state. Only House Farwynd, whom did not participate in their Liege's conflicts are at full power. A feat that has enabled them to invade the Summer Islands and take possesion of The Three Exiles. Thanks to their disobedience the Iron Born have actually managed to retain some semblance of a military, albeit a poor one.

The North:
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Ruler-
    Cley of House Bolton. Son of Ramsay of House Bolton and Lady Jeyne 'Arya' of House Stark, rules the North.

    His Seat is Winterfell.

    Cley's rule began when he was very young. Ramsay Bolton declared himself King in the North and prepared to march south to attack the weakened Riverlands. However, many of the great northern houses refused to answer his call to arms. He was eventually slain by Lord Commander Loras Tyrell of the Kingsguard north of the neck, after Jojen Reed and his army scattered most of Ramsay's men. Cley was then taken in by Wyman Manderly whom ruled as his Lord Regent until his death.

    He has no wife nor children.

    Cley has ruled for fourteen years.
Status-
    The North is currently waging no internal nor external wars.

    The North has retained all of its traditional territories, but has not expanded.

    The North is currently the third strongest power in Westeros after the Stormlands and the Vale. Loyalties are divided between those that support the Boltons and those that wish to see a true Stark returned to the Seat of Winterfell. Though many argue that having Arya as a mother makes Cley a Stark in blood at least, some doubt her legitimacy. With Rickon Stark living with his children in the Stony Shore, and the young bastard of Jon Snow being sent down from the Wall, many question their own allegiances and fear that war may come.
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The sickening thunk of steel sinking into flesh rang out across the moors. Marlon had adverted his eyes when it happened, caring not to see a man taken in such a pointless way. Ethan Ryswell was a warrior of some repute in the North. Not a legendary hero or any such nonsense but surely one of it's better fighters. As Marlon watched him pull free his blade from the chest of young Barth Hayes he could see why. His opponent had surrendered before their bout had even begun, something Ethan would not accept, and for it Barth lost his life. "Seven Hells..." Marlon thought as he pressed a skin of wine to his lips and looked away. "Poor fool shoulda fought."
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His min then turned to his young lord that was out there somewhere clashing steels with others in the melee. Truth be told Marlon was fairly confident in Bryce's ability to outfight most he would come across but with men like that Ethan here too. Well the sooner it ended the better. A shake of his head would be the last thing Marlon gave to the spectacle before turning away from the fighting field and heading back into the camps. Here at least he could drink in peace, or at least so he had hoped. For not long after finding a reasonably comfortable place to sit a hand would find it's way unto his shoulder drawing his attention away from his wineskin.

"Well Marlon, looking glum as usual." A hefty deep voice cut through the murmurings of the camp with deft skill. "Thought all the young folk would be in there trying to spill some blood."

He didn't have to turn to see whom was speaking, he knew the voice well. One that had gone unchanged for the two decades Marlon had been alive. A slight smile curled unto the corner of Marlon's lips as he shook his head. "And why not then is good lord Fisher taking place in the fights?"

A deep bellow wailed at Marlon's retort before a large wrinkled hand fell upon his shoulders. "Have your laugh my boy!" The man continued. "When I was your age I thought the same of the old lords that gorged themselves in the feasts halls. Then I became one of them!"

Marlon stood and turned to face the man, his hand outstretching and taking hold of his forearm whilst the man did the same to Marlon. "It's good to see you my lord." Marlon said with an earnest grin. "Your jaded sense of humor has been desperately missed."
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Old Mallador Fisher cracked a wide and toothy grin as he shook Marlon's hand. He had known the old man all his life, from his first cries as a babe to the day he rode off the Dawnforest for grooming. It have been near five years since their last meeting and Marlon found himself a bit nervous as one he respected so highly gave him a look over. It was strange though to see him here. From what he remembered Mallador always detested events of this sort. He had lived through the War of the Five Kings and never took too much liking to those that played at war in times of peace. Even still, that aside, this was wondrous surprise for Marlon.

"Heard the Black Fox made you Castellan. Must have been a busy few years heh?" Lord Fisher spoke as he pulled a seat over to Marlon and sat down. "Have to say I was surprised about all that. Not you gaining the title, the boy getting Cerwyn." The old man coughed prompting Marlon to hand him his wineskin.

"We were too if I'm being honest. I don't think Lord Bryce ever thought he'd be a seated lord." Marlon crossed his arms and chuckled a bit as Mallador took a long swig from the skin.

Lord Fisher wiped his mouth before tossing the wineskin back to Marlon. "He has an two older brothers if I'm not mistaken." Mallador nodded to himself in confirmation. "Something happen there?"

For a moment Marlon thought not to answer. He felt as if talking about things would be betraying his lord's house. Then again most people already knew of the affair that led Bryce to come into power, most certainly Mallador did and was now simply goading Marlon in to answering. "Wyl, the middle brother." Marlon stopped for a moment, then shook his head before continuing. "He ran off and married a commoner behind Lord Harrion's back."
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"Yes, yes. I heard something about that." Lord Fisher said whilst he scratched the white stubble jutting out from the bottom of his chin. "So good Lord Harrion disinherited him then."

Marlon shook his head. "No, well not that I am aware of. He just made it clear that the oldest brother William would rule Dawnforest and Lord Bryce would get Cerwyn."

"That's certainly a way to prove a point I suppose. Don't think it would've worked on my girls though." Mallador smiled. "Tough like their mother."

Marlon let a grin slide across his face as he thought back to his youth in Stony Shore. I had been years since he had even thought about Arsa, Lord Fisher's daughter. She had been just a tad younger than him then, always clinging to his heels whenever he went out. She had been a knobby kneed tomboy then but Marlon had since heard she had grown very beautiful. Strange how that always tended to happen.

"Hello?" A voice drew his attention back to reality. "You in there lad?" Mallador called as he looked to Marlon with a curious expression.

Marlon's cheeks flushed red for a moment before he nodded. "Sorry about that, my mind wandered. What were you saying?" Marlon spoke as he tried to reclaim a bit of composure.

Mallador grimaced and rasied his voice a bit, pointing his finger as he went on. "Your Lord! The Black Fox. He's taken position as one of the Bolton commander right?"

"Not yet, but soon." Marlon answered as he wondered the reason for this line of questioning. "House Greyfuir is one of the only houses in the North that were raised by the Boltons. They've fought for them since before Roose took the North." Marlon went on. "I'd be more strange if someone other than Bryce received such an offer."
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"So he has love for the Boltons then?" There was malice in Mallador's voice, but not much. If you didn't know the man you would be hard pressed to notice it at all. "Good. Another gifted young warrior ready to die for our Liege Lord."

Marlon raised a brow as he looked towards Lord Fisher. Something was wrong, certainly, but what? It wasn't like him to so carelessly say things of that nature in a place where anyone within earshot could hear him. Had old age taken the man's mind? No, not from what Marlon could tell of him. "My Lord..." Marlon said softly as he leaned forward.

"Don't worry lad, no need to be so damn uptight." Mallador laughed a bit before looking back to Marlon. "But, since you're already in that sullen mood I'd like to ask something of you."

Marlon looked to th ground and shook his head before returning his gaze to Lord Fisher. "Of course my lord, what do you ne-..." A cry interrupted his answer, followed by the appearance of one of Lord Bryce's men.

"Master Amber!" He called. "It's Lord Bryce, he's been hurt in the melee!"

"By whom!" Marlon said in near disbelief.

The man answered: "His brother!"
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The melee had come to it's final moments. Two men remained standing, both tired, both clutching wounds. Marlon had pushed his way through the crowd so that he could better see the situation, his mind forever turning from fear of losing his lord. Ethan Ryswell had taught everyone earlier that a life was not safe on these grounds and that one motivated to kill would do so without any bias. So Marlon watched on as Bryce and his older brother William circled one another.

"Go on and give up already little brother." William smirked as he twirled his blade in hand before pointing it towards Bryce. "You never could beat me in a spar and that arm of yours isn't going to heal itself." Marlon's eyes flitted to Bryce as William said this, noticed to splotch of red soaking through his lord's tunic.

Bryce sneered. "A lot has changed since the last time we went at it." He raised his sword with his good arm whilst positioning himself. "I doubt even Wyl could beat me now." His words were hard, but his body was clearly weakened.

William lunged forward letting his blade lash out and find Bryce's time and again. The sound sound of steel hitting steel filled the arm as the crowd stared on in utter silence. "Ya!" Bryce let out a scream as he parried William's sword then countered by thrusting forward. William took notice and jumped back, putting distance between the two of them.

"Not pulling any punches I see. If you weren't so slow that might've caught me." He mocked whilst he delievered another flurry of strikes. William clearly had to upper hand and was exploiting such. Many times during those moments of attack he could have disarmed Bryce, but did not. Winning wasn't enough, no. He had to humiliate his little brother. "Come on then Lord Black Fox, show is the terrible skill you have!" He attacked again.

Marlon adverted his eyes. He couldn't watch a thing as this unfold, and for each minute that passed he was more the thankful he had not taken place in the melee. It was hard for him to believe someone like Bryce would lose so badly. He had trained with his, saw him fight in mock battles more times than he could remember. His lord possessed great skill with a blade. Much more so than that sloppy mess William was demonstrating for the crowd at this time. Was his wound really so bad it would effect him this much?
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A cheer then rang out across the moors. Marlon turned with halfhearted expectation, knowing his young lord had fallen to the blade of his brother. His eyes went wide. Blood spattered across the dying grass as a man wailed in pain. A Greyfuir had fallen, but not the Black Fox. Bryce stood above his older brother with sword in hand, eyes cold and unmoving from his squirming form. "You're ego is gonna get you killed one day William." Bryce said as he tossed his sword down and reached out to aide his brother.

"You tricked me you little shit!" William said half angry and half impressed. "I thought your arm was no good." He looked to the bleeding wound on Bryce's shoulder before looking down to his own forearm. "Like mine is now."

Bryce smiled as his brother stood and the healers rushed over to have a look at the both of them. "Aye, that's what I intended." Bryce's hand drifted to the shoulder of his tunic before ripping open the slightly torn fabric. "No more than a scratch but it bled plenty. Should be better in a week or two." He then looked to William's arm. "Your's may take a wee bit longer." An understatement for sure. Bryce had sliced through his brother's arm-guard and deep into his flesh. It wasn't a fatal nor maiming wound, but one that would limit use of his arm for a good while.

"Bah!" William pushed Bryce away and began walking away, but not before calling back. "Black blood little brother! Black blood!" To which Bryce smiled and shook his head.
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Marlo too smiled. Words could not express how relieved he was that his friends hadn't gotten himself killed on some fool's folly. The crowd had hence began to disperse, some walking by and congratulating Bryce, others heading to their tents to rest and prepare for the journeys home. Marlon waited until most of the hoopla died down before meeting Bryce and walking back to their camp.

"That was risky and stupid." Marlon said as he threw his hands into the air and shook his head. "You gave him a dozen openings. What if he would've finished you off from the get go and not played your little game." Marlon chastised Bryce as best he could, but no matter his words his lord continued to grin.

"He wouldn't have, trust me." Bryce answered simply as he nodded to a passerby wishing him well.

Marlon crossed his arms and sighed. "I'm sure that's what Hayes thought this morning too before Ethan Ryswell plunged his sword through his heart." He went on. "Point is you never know what can happen when people are caught up fighting, so don't go taking those kind of chances."

Bryce continued not to look at Marlon, simply laughing as his cohort spoke. "He wouldn't kill me. Destroy my reputation and publicly shame me, yes, but not kill."

"And how are you so sure of that my lord?" Marlon asked as sarcastically as he possibly could.

Bryce stopped and turned, staring Marlon in the eyes before saying in earnest grace. "Becuase, he's my brother." Then his hand found it's way to Marlon's shoulder. "Now, I'm going to get stitched up. You go enjoy yourself whilst we're still in camp. And no, that's not a request."

For a moment Marlon paused as he watched Bryce walk into the crowd, navigating his way through the series of tents, before taking a step forward after him. He felt as if he needed to apologize for what he had said. They were brothers and clearly that meant a lot to Bryce. If in any way he had crossed some boundary by insinuating William would have hurt him he needed to rectify it. However, before he could continue after his lord a figure stepped into his path.

"That was some show wasn't it?" Mallador said as he stood in front of Marlon offering him a mug of ale. "Thought your boy was going down the entire time. Lost a good bit of coin there."

If it had been anyone else Marlon would have pushed past them and chased after Bryce, but not Lord Mallador. "You aren't alone in that regard I'm sure." He said taking the mug.

"Now then, why don't we go somewhere private and finish these drinks my boy." Lord Fisher said as he draped his arm around Marlon's neck, his face drifting close to Marlon's ear as he continued in a hushed tone. "And I can tell you just what it is I'd like to ask of you."
Last edited by Bradok on Mon Oct 03, 2016 17:14, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Splat_Tim » Sat Oct 01, 2016 05:58

Liking this so far!
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Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by ~Midnight~ » Sat Oct 01, 2016 06:00

Great Job
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Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Bradok » Mon Oct 03, 2016 05:03

Chapter 2- The Price of Loyalty
"I married him for my father. I bedded him for my father. I manipulated him for my father. Yet I loved him for me." -Thoughts of Cassana Fisher
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An eerie quite had fallen over Glencastle for the past morn. Not the kind that greeted and oncoming tragedy but one that followed such. In the afternoon of the previous day Lord Harrion Greyfuir, Lord of Dawnforest and Castle Cerwyn, had come upon a gathering of smallfolk whom wished their voices heard. It had started as nothing more than a misunderstanding some had said, one rather rowdy farmer stepping just a bit too close with just a bit too much malice in his voice. Lord Harrion's guards pushed the man to the ground and upon falling he would crack his skull on coincidentally bedded rock. The smallfolk began to riot, and three armed guards found themselves no match for fifty angry peasants. A rock fired from a sling would strike Lord Harrion as he mounted his horse and road away, yet the damage was done. Maester Florian claimed it to be swelling of the brain, and it happened quickly. Had Lord Harrion arrived an hour earlier there would have been some semblance of a chance to save him. Yet he hadn't, and was now gone.
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William sat quite in his father's chair. A mess of papers strewn from one end of the table before him to the other. He knew what most of them read, the ones from the Boltons, the ones from Cley. Not long after the ravens carrying word of his father's death had left Glencastle the ones carrying these letters arrived. Assurance of allegiance was what his father would have called them. Fancy offers and promises that tempted one to stand in favor of the sender. William knew this well, but how could he refuse them. He had inherited his father's seat and with it his father's duties, chiefest of them being serving at the pleasure of his liege. William blew a low sigh as he leaned forward and picked up the letter from Winterfell.

The loss of our Lord Greyfuir is felt hard here. No such a man was there before or ever will be again. For many years he served my father, doing all that was asked of him without question, no matter the deed or duty. My own mother claims he looked after my interests better than most when I was too young to do so for myself. Yet no matter the words I know they will fell hollow to you. I too have lost a father. Take solace, Lord William, that you had the chance to know yours. Enclosed within this letter are the writs declaring you, like your father before you, Chief-General of the North. I will arrive within three days time for the funeral. I look forward to meeting your family there.

-With Sympathy,
Cley Bolton. Lord Paramount of the North, Master of Winterfell, and Warden of the North.

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The letter drops to the desk as William leans back and rubs his face. He had been given a coveted position in a time when men would do near anything to advance themselves in the world, but he was not ungrateful for it. He wanted this chance, this opportunity, to prove himself worthy of his father's titles. Reigning in the other lords though would be something of a task. His father had done so with fearing that any that did not toe-the-mark would his army head on. A tactless approach that had garnered him no friends save for the Boltons and their close allies. William worried he would not be able to do the same. He lacked his father's ruthless drive and sense of ambition, and in this moment in time when all eyes would be upon him searching for weakness those were traits needed. Things had already began to devolve around them before his father's death and William now had to sort through them.

"Father wouldn't want you to pout." A voice drilled into the silence from the window's balcony as a figure stepped into the room. "He wasn't the sort of man to weep over the dead. Neither should we be." It was Wyl, William's younger brother.
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"How did...." William asked questioningly before shaking his head with a chuckle. "You scaled the side of the keep?"

Wyl walked over to the table and plopped down in one of the empty chairs surrounding it before propping up his feat. "I had meant to jump out and surprise you. Didn't expect to get so tired on the way up." He said with a grin.

"I've lost one family member this week. Let's try to make it another day or two before you decided to break your neck alright?" William retorted prompting Wyl to wave his hand dismissively at him.

"Sounds like a good bargain." Wyl said whilst scratching his chin. "You throw in no more sulking about like some deflowered maiden and I'll call it an accord." He then stuck out his hand.

William simply laughed as he fell back into his chair, slowly raising a hand to wipe a tear from his eye. "I don't know whether to call you cynical or wise brother, I truly do not." The laughter slowly died down between them before William finally spoke again. "So you won't change your mind then?"

Wyl looked to the floor for a moment before shaking his head. "Not this again William. Please."

"I need you here. Your family needs you here. Not gallivanting across Essos for not good reason." William said harshly as he slammed his fist down upon the table.

"Need and want aren't the same thing." Wyl spoke up as he looked his brother in the eyes. "I swear brother you're worse than my wife."

William scoffed and looked to the ground before standing up and walking over to a map of the North plastered across the wall. "Things are happening here Wyl, more than just simple bickering like normal." He went on. "Right now our little brother is leading a host to reclaim Driftwood Hall from the rebels there, and that's the least of it."
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"Are you worried about him or something?" Wyl asked as he stood and join his brother near the map. "I don't think he'd take to kindly to me riding out to the battlefield and checking up on him."

William shook his head. "No, that's not it." He continued softly. "I'm acting Chief-General now so I have to protect the North as best I can for the sake of Lord Cley. That means I have a lot of eyes on me, wishing for me to fail. Waiting for a chance to take advantage of the chaos if I do."

Wyl crossed his arms and leaned against the wall. "So you are worried you're gonna slip up and want me around to help pick up the pieces." Wyl chuckled. "I think you're blowing things outta proportion brother, who cares how many watch and whisper behind you're back."

"It's not those that sit and whisper behind my back that worry me Wyl." William said as he pointed to the Neck on the map. "It's the one that holds the knife."

Wyl looked with a questioning expression on his face. "The Reeds?" He spoke as he stepped forward and looked to the map. "What about them?"

"Apparently they've been visited by several other lords from across the North, and sending messages by rider and not raven." William took a breath. "There is a chance they are planning a revolt against Lord Cley."

"For the sake of the God's William!" Wyl sake as he threw up his arms and walked towards the windows. "You're married to Lord Howland's sister if you've forgotten."

William turned finger pointed at his brother's chest. "Who in the blazed d you think told me about this in the first place!?"

"Gods..." Wyl said. "Do you know why?"

"Of course." William looked to the etching of a Dire Wolf over Winterfell on the map. "They wish to seat Rickon Stark."
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Then there was silence for the longest time as the two brothers stared at the map, then to the floor, then to one another. They had been young when the last true war had waged throughout the North. Some crazy campaign led by Ramsay Bolton that would have never succeeded, yet they remembered how horrid it was. Their father had told them all, sparing no details despite their age. The thought of another such conflict happening now, one they would fight in, was quite thing to absorb. Finally though, Wyl spoke.

"It's not there yet, and may never be." He said calmly. "If it does come though, what will you do?"

William thought for a moment, no quite sure how to answer. He knew what he should say, that he would die for his lord and all that, but he didn't quite understand how to say it. Looking to Wyl he would smile for a moment before saying. "I do what father would have, and damn anyone who gets in the way."
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"Here here!" Wyl yelled as he walked over and patted his brother on the back. "Now, just try to keep from burning down the North until I get back from Essos."

"What!?" William turned to him in surprise. "You're still going?"

Wyl nodded and crossed his arms. "Me being here won't change anything. If a war is gonna start then it's gonna start." He then smiled a wide toothy grin. "Don't worry though. I know you're scared so if I hear anything I'll be sure to rush back home."

William shook his head and walked back over to the lord's seat before sitting and letting loose a loud sigh. "It's not about needing you to fight Wyl, it's about having people around me I can trust. Having family to watch my rear."

"You have Bryce, and from the way your arm looks he is more than enough to do that till I get back." Wyl said and he looked to the bandages on William's arm.

William shrugged. "True enough I suppose, little Bryce turned out to be something awful with a blade." William laughed. "Maybe we were too hard on him?"

"Hey, he hasn't beat me yet." Wyl interrupted. "Let's not start singing his praises just yet." Both of them laughed at that. "Look after my kids while I'm gone okay big brother?" Wyl finally said, a touch a softness lingering in his voice.

"Don't worry Wyl." William said as he nodded to his brother. "I'd die before I let anything happen to them."
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Re: Lineage of the Black Fox: A House Greyfuir AAR

PostPosted by Bradok » Mon Oct 10, 2016 02:42

Chapter 3- Man's True Weakness
"I heard that the blades of married men dull quickly. Lord Ethan helped prove wrong as much." -Bryce Greyfuir to his commanders
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"I've not come to be a wife." Cassana thought to herself as she stared out over the moors from the window of her room. Castle Cerwyn felt so foreign her as she leaned against the railings and rested her head upon her hands. Her eyes wandered towards the horizon, looking woefully towards where she thought home may be. Knowing full all the while that she would most likely never return to the Stony Shore. When a lady married her husbands house became her own in many ways stripping her old identity away. She was a Fisher no more, Cassana was now a Greyfuir.

Her eyes fell shut and again Cassana thought those words. "I've not come to be a wife." She had said such to herself during the trip to Castle Cerwyn, through the wedding feast, when her new husbands had lain with her, and the days following. Such was true in the eyes of her father and his cohorts. The young brash Black Fox of Castle Cerwyn was like a torrential storm that lashed out in all directions. His ferocity had been channeled into crushing revolts and rebellions across the North for his older brother and the Boltons. Cassana was meant to change that. She was meant to be the guiding voice in his ear that would steer him towards her father's enemies. Already she done such within the first week of their marriage.
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Ethan Ryswell was a man hated by most in the North. He had proven time and again to be of low standing, yet he belonged to one of the most powerful houses in the North. House Ryswell controlled the Rills and his cousin ruled the Barrowlands. Such was why Lord Mallador chose him to set the Black Fox upon. Knowing Bryce's reputation it wouldn't be seen as unusual for him to muster a host and march to face a foe such as Ethan. Though his advisors, most ardently his mother Jeyne, argued against such an action he had already become enraptured by Cassana. It was a battle all knew he would lose. Cassana already thought herself to be a widow before even a year of marriage. Lord Bryce had marched south six days ago, and she awaited word of his demise.

Within her mind she replayed the last time she saw Bryce, his armor on, stern glare plastered across his face. A man willing to go to war for her and her alone. A pressure built in the pit of her stomach as she thought of him perishing on some battlefield, slain by some unknown warrior, yet her thoughts were interrupted as a knock came upon her door. "Enter." Cassana called as she whirled around and stepped back indoors.

"Never knew you to be so proper my lady." Marlon said as he stepped into the room carrying a few letters. "Guess you've grown more than just in looks."
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Cassana smiled. She had been young when Marlon lived with them, but still she remembered their times together. "Proper ladies must act proper do we not?" Cassana answered in a gaudy satirical tone prompting a quick chuckle from Marlon before he resumed a more professional stature.

"I bring letters for you my lady." Marlon said as held up the letters and waved them a bit.

Cassana shifted and turned her back towards Marlon. "No more." She said harshly. "I cannot reply to another person wishing me a happy marriage." Bryce's face flashed in her mind again and the pressure returned.

Marlon sighed as he walked further into the room and took a seat on the table. "There is one from your father." He said in a soft tone hoping to perk up Lady Greyfuir.

She continued to show Marlon her back. "What...." Cassana stammered. "What does it say?" She finally asked.

"In short?" Marlon looked at the letter again, quickly scanning it before looking back to Cassana. "The lords of the Rills have risen up and rebelled against the Ryswells. The conflict seems to be leaning in your father's favor, and if they prove victorious your father will be the new Highlord of the Rills." Marlon stopped for a moment, looking up to Cassana to ensure she wished to hear more, before continuing. "He also wishes Lord Bryce best wishes in his fight in the Barrowlands and regrets he was unable to lend support."

"My father is a shrewd man isn't he." Cassana said with a mixture of malice and sadness in her voice. "He sets Bryce on the warpath and offers his apologies for not helping him."

Marlon looked towards Cassana and shook his head. "This was part of the deal my lady." Marlon said sorrowfully. "We all played a part in setting this up. You, me, and your father."

Cassana turned towards Marlon with a stoic look about her. "The price of his glory was the hand of his daughters. Do you think it high enough?" She wiped a tear from her eye. "I take solace in the fake Arsa always loved you, perhaps you two can still be happy."

"He does this for more than glory Cassana, you know this." Marlon stood as he spoke, moving towards Cassana. "Unless aide from the Barrowlands is halted the Rills will never be taken."

She knew, of course she knew. As much had been explained to her before Cassana had left the Stony Shore. "Then what?" She asked hesitantly. "I wait until word of my husband's death reaches me before returning to my father soiled and tainted?" The bitterness in her voice cut through the quite of the room like so many knives.

"My lady, you underestimate Lord Bryce far too much." Marlon said turning away from her and holding up another letter. "From the front. From him."

Cassana turned with a look of confusion upon her face. Her hand reached out and took the parchment from Marlon, the red wax seal of a fox still intact before she tore into it. Cassana's eyes fell to the paper, as Bryce's voice spoke the words in her mind.

My dearest Cassana,

The battle will come to an end soon. We managed to beat the Ryswell men out of the Fever just long enough for support to arrive from the Neck. I hadn't know your father arranged such before marching off, no doubt Marlon played some small part in securing their aide as well, but the sight of the Lion-Lizard has been a most welcome one. Ethan Ryswell was captured as we took control of the Dunfort, I put him to the blade. Before we married I never missed others when I was in the field. Now I miss you. We I return I only hope you allow me to be a proper husband to the proper wife you've been during this.

With Love, Bryce of House Greyfuir. Lord of Castle Cerwyn.

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He was alive, and she was glad. Why though she could not tell. She hadn't come to Castle Cerwyn to be a wife yet all the same she had gained a husband. He was alive, and he would return. "He..." Cassana muttered. "He is winning."

Marlon smiled. "He isn't the sort of man that will go down so easily." Marlon went on. "Give him a five hundred good men and he can take damn near any single territory in Westeros. Give him an army and something to fight for, nothing can stop him."

Bryce hadn't struck her as that impressive as a figure. Marlon had known him much longer than she though, long enough to call the man friend, which was apparently long enough for an immeasurable trust in Bryce's ability to form. "So Lord Reed arriving to help was no accident then?" Cassana finally asked.

Marlon nodded as he placed another letter on the desk, one bearing the sigil of the Lion-Lizard. "Your father and Lord Howland knew there was no way to march north from the Neck if the Ryswells could muster forces and cut them off." Marlon stopped for a moment, crossing his arms and smirking as he did so. "Lord Howland will provided unfettered support to Bryce which will undoubtedly wipe out most of the forced in the Barrowlands. Meanwhile your father and his supporters in the Rills will take control there." Marlon paused a heaved a low breath. "I might have sold my honor for your sister's hand but I wouldn't condemn my friend. The alliances were always part of the deal."
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Cassana had not expected such from anyone in her father's employ. Lord Mallador was a lot of things but considerate had never been one. It was nice, she thought, that the young boy she had known from all those years ago hadn't fully left Marlon. He was still loyal, he was still himself. "What will I say to him when her returns." Cassana muttered to herself, more confirming the fact that Bryce would come home than asking for advice.

A hand fell on her shoulder. "Tell him that you missed him. Tell him that you love him. Tell him the truth." Marlon said whilst handing her one final letter. "And tell him goodbye for me."

Cassana looked down at the letter, the seal of the flayed man burned into the red wax. "What is this?"

"One lost ploy of your father. I'm to head to Winterfell and serve on Lord Cley's council." Marlon said with a voice full of hate. "Arsa will stay in her father's care until my time there is done."

Breaking the seal Cassana opened the letter and began to read on. Sure enough Marlon's words were true. Cley Bolton had sent for him, offering the honor of serving on his council, offering something he could not refuse. Her eyes flitted up from the paper and fell upon the man's face. "I'll be alone here." Is all she managed to say before letting the paper fall to the floor.

"You'll be with Bryce." Marlon responded before wrapping the young woman in his arms and kissing the top of her head as if consoling a child.

Cassana backed away and looked up to Marlon. "How will the end of this play out with you gone?" She asked as her mind wandered to her father and the plans of his comrades.

"Things will be fine for now, but you have one thing wrong my lady." Marlon walked towards the door and grabbed the handled pulling it free and stepping into the hall. Without looking back he called out to her over his shoulder. "Nothing ends here, it only begins." Before he disappeared down the hallway.
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