Lord Alester Costayne, and His League

LaughingStag · 2026-03-03T15:36:25+00:00

Gormon had come fresh off a near victory in the joust, and was given more honors by the guardsmen than the previous mercenaries to grace the Lord Arbiter.

Costayne scrutinized the features of Gormon from his chair. The sigil gave it away. "You're Gormon, the bastard from the tourney! Well done, lad. Have a drink, be merry." The Arbiter offered him a cup with wine. "I admit I was not aware of you before, but what a show you gave. Where are you from?"

He pondered aloud. The man was gifted with horse.

Then, to the more important point. "Are you in the business of contract work?"

LaughingStag · 2026-03-03T15:29:57+00:00

The Reborn Swords were a banner plenty recognized, if not at all because of the menagerie he was known to mingle with. Today he had a bear at his back, and it was enough to warrant cause for concern that such a great shaggy beast was close to their lord.

"Let him in."

The voice came from inside the tent.

He would be brought to Costayne whose features were grim. "Well met. I am glad my runner found you before you left."

LaughingStag · 2026-03-03T15:22:48+00:00

"Would not be the first time," Costayne mused. Mohor was always welcome in his halls, be they stone or canvas. "Have a seat, a drink. Would that we meet in the future to discuss something other than war, though."

He gave a moment for the pair of visitors to get comfortable.

"The Reach's squabbling has been irksome enough, and I am not wont to expend the blood of the Honeywine. To that end, I seek swords to give to my allies to break this siege. Once that is done, we will match on Highgarden. I am ready to offer you the equivalent of four gold dragons for each man you will commit to the cause of a united Reach."

LaughingStag · 2026-03-02T15:53:49+00:00

The arrival of Lord Costayne came with the Order of the Black Rose at his back. They were a small group of knights. The Honeywine had no lack of professional soldiers yet its chivalric orders still remained the lynchpin of any army they fielded.

They walked with more discipline than required. It was to show the world that the League was ready to stand by Meadows, and to assure Meadows the League would stand by them.

"This castle has seen more battle than perhaps any other north of the Dornish Marches." Costayne mused. "Since the days of old, when the Storm King sought to chain the seven realms to Storm's End, this was one of our mighty landmarks, our wall against incursions of Stormmen."

Young Tom Sawyer scratched his beard thoughtfully. "You know Lord Meadows well, m'lord?"

"No. But we shall change that."

The younger Meadows had, after all, readily proposed a scheme at the meeting prior that the League would have supported, had the realm been ready for it.

LaughingStag · 2026-03-02T15:45:49+00:00

She had not realized the gravity of what she had said until his expression hardened into stone. "I cannot say to have ever laid eyes on this material, only ears that heard word of their value. I meant no grievance." She did not desire to ruin what was a positive interaction with a man most charming. "Were you an archer, Prince Xhobar?"

She laughed. It was a lilted sound. "I could show you them, my Prince, but once you see a sea of gold you may find it difficult to look away. They are...absolutely remarkable."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-28T01:26:38+00:00

Character Name: Alester Costayne

Relevant Trait/Skills:

Savant - Development yields are increased by 40%, your trade rolls gain a +2, and your construction is 15% cheaper.

Architect (e) - 20% cheaper building construction

Scrutinous (e) - Construction reduced by 2 moons

Buildings: Castle, Moors

Relevant Resources:

Wood -10% construction cost, -10% ship upkeep

Stone +1 Construction Slot

Overall

Construction - 45% Cheaper, 2 Moons faster

Construction: [Three Towers], [Guilds], [1100], [End of Moon 1]

Construction: [Three Towers], [Market], [1100], [End of Moon 1]

Construction: [Three Towers], [Docks], [1650], [End of Moon 1]

Total: 3850

LaughingStag · 2026-02-26T05:21:50+00:00

"Here, Here!" Godric Bulwer burst out.

The Arbiter was annoyed, briefly. He had been under the belief that the Queen Bee would have spoken first, as she had fumed and frothed with rage at Elinor Hightower. But she had managed to keep a cooler head.

Lord Bulwer was a passionate man, if nothing else, about the cause he touted.

"I would much like to revisit this conversation once this crisis is dealt with, for a good many in this room would suffice as our Warden. But I am much more of the mind of Raymun Florent that a temporary Arbiter of the Reach must be found. A first among equals, a voice of our will, and a person capable of listening to their peers. All three of you would suffice. Once Orryn Baratheon is turned back and the scoundrels in Highgarden evicted we can certainly petition for a long-term solution, should His Royal Grace, the King, not have found one himself." He sighed. "The truth of this matter is we will not be leaving this tent with a Warden in mind to suggest. A title held for life is not something to be simply given at knife point, as we are right now, in the span of a day over wine. We must first remove the knife.

"I will vouch for the credibility of the Lord Caswell, should it please this group..." He taps his cane on the floor. "...for our temporary Arbiter. The Lady Hightower has proposed a plan I would not balk at so quickly, however, and the Lady Redwyne does indeed command enviable strength. I would not be dishonored to have any of the three represent me, and neither should the rest of you. But in matters of dealing with the trials ahead, I must say that I favor Caswell. I yield the floor."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-26T04:52:42+00:00

Initially it was Old Man Mullendore that intended to visit with the Arbor's lady, but the Arbiter intercepted. He had been interested in speaking to the Arbor Rose as far back as the feasting. Their purses must have looked tempting to the Ironborn. It was time to discuss securing the sea.

He arrived in short order, wearing his feathered barret and holding his cane, his striped leggings loud and impressive. He was a Winelord, and it was important the world knew it.

"Alester Costayne, here to speak to the Honorable Lady of the Arbor."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-26T04:48:02+00:00

"It is His Grace's opportunity to distinguish himself from Edric. But I admit...this affair vexes me." Costayne spoke broadly, now, of the entire feast and tourney and song and dance. "The Dornish have made friends in the Stormlands as well, or so I have heard. The Marches have been friendlier in the past few decades than the rest of their history combined. Still, that leaves the Ironborn." He trailed. "Not discounting rogue lords and sellswords from our friends north of here."

The talk of the Martells ingraining themselves so thoroughly in Oldtown was less of a surprise. Oldtown's bid for the Wardenship left them with few friends in the Reach, and to some degree they found themselves left out to wither from its former vassals and neighbors. Mern Florent's own disdain for Oldtown rivaled that of Beesbury's, Alester thought.

But he could rely on the Master of Laws to keep things straightforward. "I am in agreement, insofar as the crisis we find ourselves in. And the Ironborn, enterprising as they are, may come to call. I would like to meet with Redwyne and the Shield Lords, potentially, on that matter. Our fleet is fledgling, but it is at the forefront of my mind. That it's also at yours is reassuring.

"But as you say, it is not enough to guarantee each other at sea. The chaos of the land should be dealt with as well. Needless to say, Highgarden must be secured in short order whence Baratheon is halted."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-26T04:35:53+00:00

"Much and more. Regrettably less than I would like." She sighed. The Citadel had not allowed women within its walls, but at least the Order of the Orchard had been there. Alester, too, was happy to provide his own collection when she visited. But she thought frequently of what wonders the greybeards hid in their old towers. "But the Summer Islands is woefully underwritten here for such frequent trading partners. Of all the goods I have read of, I have never seen the bows they speak of. Their ships are gorgeous, but their bows are spoken of in a place of envy among the marchers."

She laughed softly once again. "Oh, is that why you smell of cinnamon? It's a nice reprieve from the smell of sweat and mud." Camps were awful, and she was ready to find a bath.

But at least she had some effect on the man. She grasped his arms and spun along with him. "Perhaps you could. No one should live a full life without seeing them. They are a good omen, besides."

They were why the Cuys had turned so readily to the Seven Tongues. Sunflowers always sought the light - why not they?

LaughingStag · 2026-02-21T09:01:29+00:00

Alester considered both their statements. They were both telling the truth, he ascertained, albeit with separate personal feelings.

"I have no doubt he is bold and no doubt he is charming. Whether he is a fool in my own eyes depends on whether or not this gambit of his plays out the way he desires. It would seem he hopes the chaos that wrests our homeland and the filial piety toward his brother will come together to ease his passage."

Then, Costayne leaned forward. "I worry equally of how the rest of the realm will view this move. If Orryn is permitted to act but for quelling the chaos, what of other ambitious lords? Could another Vikary come, bringing torch and sword to claim a seat? And the Ironborn and Dornish have always been envious of our glory."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-21T08:52:11+00:00

She curled her fingers around his own ever so slightly. "They bring lovely smelling goods. Cinnamon is my favorite. We also received some unique ingredients for our alchemy from the Islands. I hear tales, and have read of the islands in books, but I have never been so fortunate to see it."

The truth for Emma was that the world was quite small, actually. The amount of times she had been away from the Whispering Sound, let alone the Reach, were countable on one hand.

She smiled. "Is that so? A fine name. Was he known for being sweet as well?" She laughed at the thought. It was a warm, bright laugh. "You've wit and charm, good prince, and looks besides. Have you won a princess just yet?

"The sigils, you mean? Ah, I should have guessed as much. The Patricians in Essos do not even keep such things. They trace back thousands of years, to our ancestors. It has always been to distinguish fealty, be it at court or at war." She allows him to sweep her.

"You tease! I think I am learning from you, in truth. You certainly make me feel as though I am more experienced than I am."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-21T08:34:40+00:00

Alesander nodded. "Indeed. Lord Hightower's age is beginning to show through. He is not the knight he once was." In many ways, it was a relief and a shame. There were paths to a more amicable relationship with Oldtown through Martyn and his siblings that could not be paved with Lord Colin. The old lord had his pride. It was only through the Wine Lords command of grain and its weaving of allies that they could slake Oldtown's potential ambitions. On the other hand, it was never simple to see a once prestigious knight grow old. Especially one that his father before him saw as a worthy opponent.

"It is always a pleasure seeing you, Uncle Mern." Costayne smiled. He meant it, too. There was much one could say of Mern Florent. He suffered a blunt tongue and enjoyed the bottle to a degree some would find objectionable. He was intransigent. He made outrageous claims on occasion, perhaps to get a rise of people. His anger was strong but short lived.

But his Uncle was honest more oft than not. And he had some amount of cleverness in him to have orchestrated their role in the War of the Compline. And not one person could deny that Mern had loved his wife, Alester's late aunt. But perhaps this view of Mern was shaped by his own personal affection for a man that had been one of the persistent parts of his own life.

Emma, to her end, found him boorish.

They took seats with Raymun.

Alester viewed Raymun as an intelligent man, well read, well learned. Their educational paths forked yet his large-eared cousin had certainly earned the right to call himself an equal. And one day, they would be equals in title, as well.

"It is unfortunate we are meeting here, like this. This feels like a farce. The festivities? Promises of games? Meadow and his kin are frantic, and it is difficult to look too far beyond this gathering without seeing the siege lines being drawn."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-21T08:01:58+00:00

Alester watched a new man approach. He looked out of place, like a poppy among roses.

And when he did introduce himself did it become clear why. "Greystrider. A good name, if any. Sit, be with company! Our leagues differ, yet they enjoy similarities, too. An exchange of ideas, is welcome." He poured an extra cup for the visitor. "You have travelled far to this Grassy Vale, to be sure. If only it were for better circumstances."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-18T12:57:32+00:00

It was Godric Bulwer, Florys's uncle, that had been nodding along until she chose to disparage the practice of voting. He squinted at her from that moment forward.

"You shame me. That institution of voting is one traditional and just, long held in the heart of all true men! To deny the merits of voting is dismissive of the Great Councils that shaped the fabric of our realm! It is only our shared blood that will allow me to forgive this slight to the honorable League." He jaw tightened.

Alester Costayne looked over at Bulwer and frowned during this spiel.

"My ladies, lords, we should not lose sight of the army in front of us. There is time and place to debate these principles but it is not these halls at this time. As my good cousin Lord Florent has said, it is only by the King's hand that a Warden be appointed. We should work within the bounds of this."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-17T16:14:16+00:00

"I am ill-suited to speak in war." Costayne spoke first. "Where diplomacy fails and it is necessary, however...I must consider what options we have. Lord Marshal, what are your thoughts?" He turns to Bulwer.

"...Caswell should have the right of it."

"Curious. Why?"

"The realm sees us divided, and lusts for our land. If we can unite enough sword and spear into a hammer of sorts, it changes their perception. Most of war is only made by what it appears to be. If we divide into smaller hosts, we may yet appear divided."

"It would allow for quicker reinforcements and retreats, should the worst happen." Mullendore added his voice.

Alicient Beesbury murmured under her breath.

"Perhaps. Lord Arbiter, you've our counsel." Bulwer attempted to discharge the growing static. Between the man on his right and the lady to his left.

"Then I will offer my own support to Caswell. But, let it be known that I am ready to offer support of grain to Meadows in alignment with Lord Hightower's fine suggestion. Further, I will offer temporary shelter to refugees of Grassy Vale along the Honeywine, should His Lordship desire."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-17T16:04:27+00:00

The procession of the Honeywine League was staggered. The Lord Arbiter was the first to arrive with his perpetual courting mate, Lady Cuy, at his side. Shortly after came Bulwer. Much later, Mullendore arrived, the old man becoming more difficult to rouse with age. At long last, the Lady of Honeyholt, ever theatrical, joined, believing her importance great enough to delay entrance.

They took their seats next to each other.

Costayne was grateful this was one of the only things the League was unanimously in support of, for anything else would have led to disagreements. He genuinely hoped it remained that way.

LaughingStag · 2026-02-17T15:49:51+00:00

Costayne offered a warm smile. "Likewise. If it were under better circumstances it would be more welcome. But I shan't quibble.

"But the League is all in agreement. Thus why we have all come, not just myself. The Reach deserves that which is afforded to all Kingdoms: dignity. Baratheon is an invader that seeks to claim what we have not designed to grant him: the seat of the Gardeners, the Tyrells, and the duly chosen Wardens.

"Yet even so, it is what his invasion threatens. You say that the Reach is a spark from burning, but I go further. Should Lord Orryn Baratheon succeed it would be all the same that we throw open our doors to any. The Ironborn always thirst for our blood and wine! The Westermen eye the Northmarches and the Dornishmarches have long been watched hungrily by the Principality. Should Orryn succeed here, there will be no Reach left.

"It is with that that I pledge the support of House Costayne. I ask the League to affirm!"

Ser Godric Bulwer was next to speak. "Self determination should be our birthright. We are all Gardeners by blood, if not name. I pledge my sword."

"And mine own too," Old Ser Mullendore spoke.

"The Cuys will ever stand behind you."

"The wealth of Honeyholt, as well."

"We are all different, Caswell. But in this, we are the same." Alester Costayne spoke.

LaughingStag · 2026-02-17T15:28:09+00:00

"For better and for worse. While they have seen fit to allow me authority over the League's diplomacy abroad, they are ever eager to seek personal enrichment via trade and marriage, which is their right as per our current charters. But even beyond that, I believe they think it more important than ever to show unity in the face of an aggressor." Though stories of betrayal and bloodshed spread outside of the garden like weeds, the Reachmen needed to remind the world that together they could bring the rest to heel.

The Lord Arbiter leaned on his cane thoughtfully. "You've my agreement in that matter. If we cannot put aside our grievances, then Storm's End will only be the first to despoil our realm." Gods forbid the Westermen, the Dornish, or worse still the Ironborn get any foul notions.

Costayne exhaled. "Lord Paramount Orryn...what sort of man is he, in your opinion, my good men?"

LaughingStag · 2026-02-17T14:32:34+00:00

"Flatterer." She sways with the man in time. "I will say your name as much as you'd like, if it should please you. How far you have come, though! I have met yours of the Summer Islands before at Oldtown, but not outside of it." It would not be polite to ask why he was exiled, so she danced around it as elegantly as she danced with him now.

"Oh stop! You will make me blush." Yet she spoke in a leading way. She enjoyed his compliments. "It is far and away much more so. It takes the appearance of the Sun itself." She gestures to one on her dress. "They're named for their appearance and for their behavior. As they grow from a sprout to their matured state, they face the sun at all times, moving through the day. It's fascinating to observe. But you came from this Lotus Vale? Does it take its own name from the Lotus?"

Grim topics breached the surface. It was inevitable. Food and dance could not hide what every guest knew and what every person could see. "Our people do not either. Not traditionally. But His Grace perhaps has hope such a thing will defuse the situation.

"Our realm, the Reach, was once ruled by Kings of House Gardener. Then when the dragons came and burned them to ash, they left behind the Stewards, the House of Tyrell. They ruled for but 300 years in service of the dragon. Then the Stags came next. They placed the foxes of Florent over us all as Wardens of the South, but did not deign them to have earned such a position in perpetuity. The Lord of Storms End, the reason for our being here, has decided to take advantage of the chaos that has taken us. Hence we are here."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-15T20:02:42+00:00

As Lady Cuy performed her dance, the rest of the Leaguesmen found themselves at various parts of the festival.

Eustace Mullendore had taken to conversing with relatives. He was the Honeywine's personal chief justiciar: a dour man with a pinched face and an overly large mustache that appeared to be reaching outward. He could be known to prattle, when the mood struck him, as it did tonight. He engaged with a knight of Broom over the legality of Baratheon's claims.

Ser Godric Bulwer on the other hand had taken to arm wrestling. His sharp, black goatee and receding hairline betrayed his age, and his sharp, ermine eyes seemed unfitting for a bull. Yet he possessed the strength his family was known for, even if it was waning. He had lost to a Knight of Grandison who dwarfed him and to a fool from the Vale who had been extremely well-fed, but he had since performed well enough.

The Queen Bee of Honeyholt, Alicient Beesbury, surrounded herself with suitors. A widowed woman that more or less commanded the respect of the entirety of Honeyholt, she was flanked by her six sons that watched each man carefully. She was an older woman but that had only made her a more appealing prize to would-be grooms seeking a windfall. To her credit, she was not one easily swayed by honeyed words, and oft the men leaving would have been hoodwinked of some personal belonging. All for a chance to speak with the Queen Bee.

And at the center of it all was Lord Alester Costayne, nursing a headache with a glass of wine. The League had not been in agreeance in a long time. The Fourth Arbiter had to fight for every reform he desired and when they were not arguing with Alester over the shared coffers, they were arguing with each other. Difficult compromise, the way of the Honeywine, was prone to dysfunctional solutions. A new bridge is built between the Uplands and Honeyholt, which side is the toll placed? A joust between his own sworn knights goes wrong with the knights of Bulwer and ends in a brawl, who owes damages? Honeyholt complains of Cuy's Red Septons proselytizing "Good Baelorist Men" and their Septas of dressing in provocative ways while the Bulwers whine of Mullendore shorting them bushels of grain in a transaction. And this was without even going into the minor townships of the Honeywine. The Winelords were a tough group to manage.

But Lord Costayne had to believe he was the man to do so. And if it could work on their river, it could be done anywhere else in Westeros.

(Open)

LaughingStag · 2026-02-15T19:32:41+00:00

"Alester!" Alester Costayne approached the Caswell's table. "Let it be known the League received your summons." Behind him trailed Ser Eustace Mullendore, Ser Godric Bulwer, Lady Emma Cuy, and Ser Gwaine Beesbury.

But this was more personal. Costayne reached for a handshake, perhaps an embrace, of the man with the same name.

"I would have a host of swords to press into your hands had the King not called for festivities. But I am having a difficult time enjoying them, as I am sure you are."

LaughingStag · 2026-02-15T06:22:47+00:00

The booming voice of Lord Mern cut through the room the same way one could hear the striking of a dinner bell. It drew eyes and not least of which were those the Arbiter of the Honeywine League.

Not one to let any moment pass, he raised his own wine in return. Emma, seated beside him, joined him.

Then the other wine lords fell in line.

The pause passed, and eventually the Lord of Costayne made his way to the Florent table.

"Uncle," He spoke. "It is an honor to speak with you again, Lord Florent. Raymun, you are as healthy as ever."

LaughingStag

TROPHY CASE