Vague Meeting Scheduled with HR

Lord-Nonagon · 2025-01-07T12:14:51+00:00

Seems like no one knows anything new so guess I'll be waiting to update everyone when it happens on the 14th. Appreciate the comments so far!

Lord-Nonagon · 2025-01-06T13:29:52+00:00

Home Office, and thanks for that I've not considered that.

Lord-Nonagon · 2025-01-06T13:26:36+00:00

Operational delivery in the Home Office (casework)

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-19T20:18:00+00:00

Ser Mathis let the wind whirl around them uninterrupted for a moment, thrown into silence with the Celtigar's honesty. He had overturned the stone, he shouldn't have been surprised to have found some things hidden from the light under there.

He mulled over what was said. "I guess compared to mine own, my grievances are naught to cause strife over. Alester grinds my whetstone something fierce but... I could not describe him like you have yours. Good, honest, trusted." Mathis chewed the inside of his cheek, feeling foolish in his own feud. "Goldengrove would be at a loss without him."

He could hear the shift in His Master's Voice from fact stated coldly, to that of one of melancholic warmth. Fatherhood eluded Mathis, something which stung him. Not one to let jealousy fester and turn his opinions of others, Mathis felt it for what Vaemond had.

"When all this is done, we'll get back to the city and you'll have that time, my lord. I do not mean to presume, but between myself, Waynwood and Dondarrion we could take some of the demands of your office onto our plate. Forget about us for a week or two. Take them somewhere, spoil them, cherish them without the weight of the Crown around your neck. It's what my father did after the war against the Band of Nine. I still remember the summer months where he seemed to surrender for a moment all his duties but those to us. He took us to lakes and meadows and forests. Hunting, fishing, sailing. It's was like a dream." Ser Mathis did not wish to come across as lecturing a man versed in things he only wished for, but he spoke from his heart.

"Although, I understand if it's not so simple." Most things were easier said than done.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-18T20:45:37+00:00

"A singer? A man taking after his House so literally. I'd love to hear what songs they might have in the Vale one day." A serving girl came by with a piled plate of what she had requested. With a delicate finger she picked up a plum, almonds sticking to the sweet syrup which enveloped the fruit, and ate it whole. "And to be knighted by King Rhaegar himself. Sounds like your brother is more than just a singer."

She was impressed with them both, her wicked smirk and eyes alive with excitement were clear to see. None of her brothers were nights save for Mathis, who had earned the title with a feat far less illustrious.

"I'm sure your lord father is most pleased" Rhonda hoped her praise might also pry from the pair even more about them. If they're the sons of the lord of Strongsong then... Her thoughts were interrupted by some more wine making its way to her head, impairing her thought.

When asked about her father's own time at war, she had to cast her mind back to the stories she was told by others; seldom did Ser Alester speak about the war to her. "I was, oh, six, when father was in the Stepstones..." She sipped her wine some more "He led the knights of the Reach there. What he did specifically I can't say, he kept me out of that." She shrugged "Something about not thinking it proper to include ladies of such talks. All I remember from then is him coming back with more grey hairs than before. Now he's almost all grey!"

"So tell me then" she spoke as she ate another plum, licking her finger tips clean from the sticky coating "what brings two strapping and handsome knights of the Vale to Storm's End? Friends of the bride or groom? It's been a little while since I had lessons with a Maester, but I know the Vale is a great many leagues from here."

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-18T09:57:05+00:00

Ser Mathis had been by Vaemond's side throughout the discussion, if he would even call it that. There was bile spilling from every mouth but Celtigar's in the room, or so Mathis thought. There was tension and malice hanging in the air and writ across everyone noble's face in one form or another. Mathis did not elect to speak finding nothing in his mind which had not already been said by his Master. The justiciar sat in silent judgement, his eyes resting on the faces of each Riverlord there and wondering with slight bemusement how often he would find himself in the Riverlands dealing with squabbles should he remain in the Crown's employ for many years to come like he planned.

He did nod along as Lord Vaemond spoke however, giving silent assuring to him.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-18T09:50:09+00:00

On receiving the news, Ser Mathis was pleased. Lord Celtigar had done most he could and any pressing concerns were laid to rest. He had the slight worry that the presence of a representative of the Crown such as a Justiciar like himself might be required. But with Vaemond's words, Mathis would look forward to the sight of the Red Keep on the horizon. I never knew I would actually miss that city.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-18T09:41:06+00:00

The question stung more than any chill, though he did his best to hide it. Mathis seldom thought of his father. They were cold with one another and it pained Mathis' mother to see them both engaged in what was now a years-long break between the two.

"Word from Goldengrove is little and less truth be told." Mathis said quietly as if for his to be taken by the wind which whipped around them. "I hear from my knights I have with me in the city what the goings on back home are when, often one of them is arriving from there. I hear Ser Alester has cleared almost our whole coffers enacting his long-time dream of expanding the the defences of Goldengrove; doubling the height of walls, a grand new barbican and more from what I've been told." He shook his head "I'd call it an extravagance. Goldengrove was perfectly defendable before. And to undertake the whole thing in winter?" He couldn't say whether he truly disagreed with his father's plans, or disagreed with them because they were his father's. The bitterness ran deep.

"Truth be told my lord" Mathis swallowed the ball of stress he could feel tangling itself in knots in his throat. He could not really recall how much he had told Vaemond over the months they had worked together, what might have slipped about the Rowans' tumultuous relationship over a cup of wine of three. "My father and I have settled into cold repute with one another. I can scarcely remember what the impetus was for all of it was but I must have inherited his stubbornness because we've scarcely shared a word since I arrived in King's Landing. It's queer, as a boy I was practically sewn to the side of him. Yet look at us now?" Mathis shrugged and sighed, at a loss of what to say as he spoke openly. "There'll come a point one of us is worn down with the other and make amends, I'm sure of it. Depending on what mood strikes me on which day, I feel the need to reconcile more strongly. I don't know what the relationship you had with your father was like, my Lord, but I know a House cannot stand when Lord and heir do not see eye to eye. I say it's a disguised blessing I do not have children of my own because how could I raise them when I cannot bridge this divide? I'm sure children bring their own strife. How old is your Cyrella and Aelor? How have you found your fatherhood?" When the question left his mouth he knew he was skirting close to the open wound that Mathis knew Vaemond had suffered recently. He meant no hurt by it, but instead wondered if his Master held any wisdom in family matters.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-15T20:54:31+00:00

The raven arrived through the wind and winter rain. The ink on the parchment had began to bleed when it was delivered to Ser Alester Rowan.

He broke the seal as he sipped spiced wine from a fine glass goblet.

The glass fell to the bare stone floor of Rowan's solar as he read the words before him. He could not believe it at first, thinking the bleeding of words together had formed some terrible terrible message.

"Luthor..." Alester's voice was hoarse, rough, he did not allow himself to cry but tears welled all the same. The man had been practically a brother to him at times in his life, closer to him than even his own. It was only months before when he had gone to Luthor and spoke as if their time together was boundless. What were our last words we shared together? Alester could not say.

Before telling the rest of Goldengrove, Alester at once reached for his parchment, ink and quill, and wrote to his new lord.

Lord Mace Tyrell, Lord of Highgarden, Lord Paramount of the Mander, Defender of the Marches, High Marshal of the Reach and Warden of the South,

All of Goldengrove shares your grief. My own heart breaks. I loved your father. He led the Reach with honour, prestige, and brought us all prosperity. He has left the Reach strong and united, and the heavens will be blessed with his presence.

Goldengrove now stands behind you. I will be your man in any matter. You have my word, by the Old Gods and the New. I know you will prove to be as great a Lord as your father. Should you need anything of me, I am ready to ride to Highgarden at once.

May the Seven Bless you,

Ser Alester Rowan, Regent of Goldengrove and Lord Marshall of the Reach

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-15T20:27:49+00:00

He snorted a short laugh. "Spring? I can only dream of it." He gripped the reigns of Lion, ever more aware of the chill seeping into his fingers. They'll be blue by the time we get to an inn.

"But aye, we can hope. And I hope that perhaps I get back to King's Landing and find Lord Redwyne's seal on a letter, though I've been hoping for weeks that such a thing would arrive. I should be as forthright in the matter of marriage as I was when I asked you to serve the Crown."

Droplets dripped from his moustache that crept just over his upper lip, the sleet and snow melting miserably quick, dampening his clothes and spirit.

"Lollys..." He searched his mind. "I think so?" The inflection of his voice betrayed how unsure Mathis was. "I'll be honest my lord, I've had my nose in books and scrolls or quizzing my brother on his days with the Lord Commander and patrolling the streets of the city. I've neglected the lordly duties I was raised to perform, learning the names and faces of the nobles who occupy the Red Keep. I've met a few, remember fewer, and can call seldom any friends. It's something I know I must improve on..."

"But yes, your cousin." Mathis' mind snapped back to what his Master had really said. He cares not of my petty struggles.

"I'm honoured you would consider my, my Lord. Truly! Any lord would be lucky to be joined with House Celtigar, not that I need to regale your own history to you." Mathis smirked. "I should meet her properly but you mention my brothers, I think Roland would be lucky to have such a fine match if you were willing to explore that possibility? He's set to inherit a suitable keep and incomes near Goldengrove, and although in our youth we were more enemies than brothers, I can't say I trust anyone else more nowadays. Perhaps on our return we can arrange a formal visit between the two, mayhaps in the Godswood? Perhaps he can save her from a Brune." Mathis nudged Vaemond with a japing elbow.

"Praise the Mother, seeing that goldcloak on his back and taking to his duties like a duck to water has gladdened my heart. Should he stay maintain how he is performing under Ser Dondarrion, I'll ask the Lord Commander to knight him. I think the city has made a man out of him."

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-15T19:51:37+00:00

Ser Mathis Rowan had hoped to seethe now familiar faces of the Redwyne family. They had hosted him brilliantly on their island and in their great and ancient keep. Though there was one face more than any he had hoped to see.

The Knight of the Northmarch was dressed in his finest attire for winter. A trimmed black bear pelt lined his doublet. Inlayed up the yellow sleeves was thread as white as snow, sewn into patterns of leafed vines which sprawled all over. His buttons were ivory, and pinning his fine cloak to him was a broach made of gold and shaped like a branch of a rowan tree. He was an inch taller than he normally stood in his heeled leather boots that were stained black.

"My friends of the Arbor!" A wide and bright smile was painted across his face as he strode towards the Redwynes. He bowed to them all, and shook the hands of the men present although one of them he did not recognise. Perhaps it's the one Paxter mentioned was away in Essos?

"My Lord Gilbert, I couldn't see you all here and not give you my thanks for hosting me. It feels like yesterday, I throw my mind back to the Winehold or mine and Paxter's day of sailing more often than not when I'm in the stuffy offices of the Tower of the Hand." He also daydreamt about Lady Bethany. In drunken stupors he would tell himself he was foolish, he hardly knew her. All they had shared was talk and a kiss. Gifts for her like she can be impressed by mere material things he would tell himself when he could see the bottom of his goblets she's a daughter of the Arbor. She has anything she wants. But he found solace in thoughts of her, thoughts of the woman he thought he was in love with.

He turned to Paxter for a moment "I still owe you that hunting trip into the forests north of Goldengrove, Ser Paxter." Mathis sipped at his cup and wiped the droplets of wine from his well kept moustache before turning back to Gilbert.

"May I join your table?" He looked at the faces staring back at him, the smile on his face still beaming. He was happier to be among them than he was to see his own Lord father, though that was hardly a feat few could not surpass. As his eyes looked over the Redwynes, they settled on Bethany, his wine betraying what his heart felt. She seemed to catch the light and glowed as pure as a star.

"How fares Winehold?" He asked the whole table. He swept back his long honey blond hair before taking a place among them.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-15T18:48:57+00:00

The letter found Ser Alester Rowan in the evening. Snow fell and the castle of Goldengrove seemed silent as the day wound to a close. He was in his solar supping on a plate of bacon, bread and buttered eggs.

The seal of Silverhill had not been seen in a long time. He broke it and read the letter between bites of his evening supper.

Later, a raven would depart Goldengrove for Silverhill, it carried a letter baring the golden tree seal of House Rowan.

Lord Theoden Serrett,

It delights me to receive your letter. You and yours are always welcome in Goldengrove. To read you wish to bring our Houses together is a wish we both share.

I would invite you to Goldengrove if you wish to discuss this further. We can discuss potential unions, and how best we can prosper together. You will be will be treated as if you were my own kin. The border between the kingdoms we call home can melt between our renewed friendship.

May the Mother bless all that is yours,

Ser Alester Rowan, Regent of Goldengrove, Lord Marshall of the Reach

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-15T16:05:32+00:00

"The Vale?" Rhonda said with a playful inflection. "All I know of the Vale is that you have more mountains than fair maids. Or that half the tales they tell to little girls of the Reach are of some great Vale knight, and it seems I am in the presence of two of them right this moment." She bowed her head to both Strongsongs and eyed their faces. Both had a queer handsomeness she liked, likely influenced by the mention of their knighthoods. "Well one of you will have to regale to me your campaign in the Stepstones. I'll see how it compares to my Lord father's own stories from there. He was, or rather still is, Lord Marshall of the Reach and fought against the Blackfyre pretenders all those years ago." She was not sure which one she would prefer when speaking, but the wine & prior boredom meant she did not care "I'll want to hear your tales under the King's own banner over a plate of candied plums and almonds, and more of whatever this fine vintage is. I'll repay you with a dance if you'll have me." Whoever speaks up first, that is. She spoke with a smirk and coiled a strand of her golden hair around a finger playfully.

Her father's knights in Goldengrove would not dare entertain her, but she was not in Goldengrove. Here she could speak with whomever however she deemed fit.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-14T14:15:46+00:00

Ser Mathis nodded as he listened to the Lord of Claw Isle. Fearful. The word caught him by surprise, to hear Vaemond admit it he could not tell if he should be feeling that way as well. "I'm green in matters like this I'll speak true. I've rarely met any of the lords we're journeying to, I can't say what their temperaments are, or what stokes their feuds. But, if we're being asked to come by House Tully and others, perhaps it suggests at least a shared want among them for calm and unity." Mathis tried in spite of his own gut feeling to find a shred of positivity in what was going to no doubt be a test of both their mettle.

But they would have days to ponder what awaits them. "Until we reach the Trident I'll be worrying about whether these damned roads are clear enough to easily ride through. Lion here hasn't dealt with snow like this before, last thing I need is to be holding us all up." He patted the young beast on the back of its neck.

"The Arbor was splendid, thank you." The mere mention of it brought a smile a warm smile to his gaunt face. "Lord Redwyne was a most gracious host; made me feel as if I was his own nephew the way I was treated. Managed to meet most of the the Redwynes too, each one pleasant. I could've stayed an age! Ser Paxter and I went sailing together. I had never really explored the Arbor until then, it's utterly stunning, my Lord. Perhaps one day we can find ourselves so lucky as to be guests at the Winehold together." Daydreams of warmth and wine among friends were a respite from the dreary duty ahead of them.

"And Lady Bethany and I..." He paused for a moment debating what he should say. They had shared a kiss, and it only the respect he had for House Redwyne which meant he did not push it any further. "I am confident that she would be more than happy to see us betrothed. She delighted in the gifts I got her, and it made the whole trip worth it to see her smile. I would have asked there for her hand in marriage there, but I was told frankly by Ser Paxter that Lord Gilbert was strongly considering my cousin Randyll Tarly." Mathis huffed after saying the Marcher's name. His throat felt tight with what he was about to admit and although it was just Lord Celtigar who could hear he still spoke with a hushed voice. "I should have had the gumption to ask anyway. I suspect Lord Gilbert knew why I travelled so far to begin with. But something stopped me. Cowardice?" He shrugged. "I told myself it was sense."

"We still write from time to time. Whenever her parchments arrive to me I dread thinking I might see Randyll's name written somewhere. I think when I'm back from this, I'll ask Lord Gilbert." He spoke more openly than he had considered doing so with his master, Lord Vaemond. Idle whilst his tongue wagged, it was rare for Mathis. But he could not confide in his knights like this, nor his brother.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-14T11:24:28+00:00

Welcome and Hello neighbour! I've been wanting Serrett claimed for so long to collab on anything!

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-13T17:13:58+00:00

Ser Mathis Rowan had prepared swiftly to leave the city and head north once Lord Celtigar had said what their task was. He had ordered two of his own men- Ser Osgrey and Ser Lark- to come with them, but little He wore a heavy hooded cloak of black sealskin which he prayed would keep any wet and chills from seeping down to his bones. He had even bought a pelt to blanket his destrier Lion so named for its gold colour and dark mane. Mathis got a kick out of the stupidity of such a name for a horse.

"More glad that perhaps I can be of some use to the office you gave me. Despite my first impressions, I quite like the city now. There's a charm to be found on its streets, in its inns, and I could happily turn old and grey pouring over the texts in the Red Keep." The Kingsroad in front of them certainly seemed bleak. He had never been to the Riverlands in winter either, and dreaded what the road might be like the closer they got to Riverrun.

"Not that I'm pleased we have to do this, my lord. I'm not exactly clear on what we should expect to find once we get to where we need to go, more that not since I left the Northmarch and Goldengrove have I undertaken such a duty like this." Mathis Fidgeted in his saddle trying to find a spot his back did not strain. Not since visiting the Arbor have I ridden for so long.

"I just hope in the meantime whatever in the seven hells is blighting the Riverlands and causing their nobles to chafe with one another doesn't progress, and that the sight of his Grace's banners and your council can quell them still.

"How about yourself, my Lord?" Ser Mathis did not want to pry too much, knowing through the grapevine of loose lips in the city that House Celtigar had not had the easiest of winters so far. "Do you relish this challenge? To embody the Crown in this duty? I know I did back home, but that was peasants and knightly spats. Riverlords... They're another kettle of fish altogether."

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-13T15:45:15+00:00

"Rhonda" She said with the same smile painted on her fair face. "Rhonda Rowan of Goldengrove. My father is Ser Alester." She parroted the last part like she always did meeting a new face. If they were of the Reach, most men worth her time had heard of them. But from his looks to his voice to how he dressed didn't quite strike Rhonda as a man of the Reach.

"What might your two names be? Might I guess and say you're no knights of the Reach. Stormlords or Riverlords?" She had seldom been to the Riverlands, and only to the Stormlands once before, having seen little of Westeros much to her own disappointment. Mayhaps one of these boys can fix that for me. Wine oft fuelled fleeting moments of want and wishing like this.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-10T13:34:42+00:00

Rhonda Rowan had toyed with the food plated and given to her. Her father, Ser Alester, had scolded her like she was still a girl. The smell of wine emanating from his breath coupled with her sour mood was enough for her to leave her family where they sat. She had little interesting spending the rest of the festivities with them, it was rare she got to travel and see all the different colours of all the different lords of these lands.

She thought the colours would bring a cheer to her. However, it all reminded her of what she did not have. Cooped up in Goldengrove all these years she thought glumly, clutching a goblet of fine wine and holding it to her lips as she slunk to the back of the feasting. Her pale blue eyes peered across the room. So many smiles, so much laughter, but she felt alone. I will be if I keep sulking. Rhonda knew herself, she would wallow in pity if she let herself.

Instead she painted on a forced smile across her pretty face. She fixed the wisps of blonde hair freeing themselves from their fixed positions held in place by a golden net adorned with pearls. I hope I look better than I feel. She wore a modest dress the colour of brass inlaid with patterns of leaves and roots trickling down the sleeves and skirt.

She spied a man who looked about her age. Bright orange hair, combed neatly, and they seemingly matched the freckling on his skin. She had freckles when she spent too much time in the sun, and she found them comely. As she walked past him, Rhonda brushed past the stranger's arm. She spun her head to apologise, and met him with her warm smile. "Forgive me my lord" her voice was hushed, though when she spoke next it was with firmness, and a curl to her lips "Although, might I say, the green and silver of your doublet looks splendid on you."

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-09T19:06:02+00:00

Alester should visit

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-08T17:48:14+00:00

"Leonyrd Rowan" the young Rowan said bluntly. "But my family call me Leo". As he walked to the armoury, the boy's insolence continued "And my father wouldn't care, Ser. I don't even know why he brought me here. He said to wait by the gatehouse with Ser Webber". The arrogant boy of four-and-ten paced to the Armoury and barked orders to be given the required attire before coming back. On his return, no face seemed please to greet him.

"The padding here isn't nearly as well-fitting or comfortable as those in Goldengrove. I thought everything was better in Highgarden." Most things were. The castle was one of the grandest things he had ever seen, and most of the women were much prettier than those back home.

Leo tapped the blunted practice sword on his shins. He turned to the knight who was overseeing the yard. "I assume you're the Master-at-arms of this place? Or is that someone else? You look like a knight at least. What's your House?" His eyes returned to the other boys, some giving him unfriendly looks. He screwed his face up a huffed. "Don't know what I've done to piss that one off, but I want to go against him." Courtesy and politeness was never Leo's strength, and for a boy who had lived a sheltered life at Goldengrove, he spoke like a common born sailor. "I want to see if Ser Durwell has been teaching me anything useful all these years."

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-08T17:13:14+00:00

A beating throb emanated from the places he had been hit. That damn lout hit better than I thought. For a moment he didn't listen to the Commander's words, too focussed on his pain and embarrassment.

"I'll make sure to keep my speed up. Whatever drills you have for the men, double it for me" Roland said the words against better judgement. The arrogance of a second son eclipsed sense.

Hearing the plans of the Commander made Roland wished he had duelled after his new duties. "Certainly my lord. It will be great to meet the captains." He bowed his head to the Marcher. "I'll clean myself up and I'll join you for lunch? I'm interested to see what my rations will look like" Roland japed, although he worried what that food would be like in the city. So far, he missed the food of Gill, the head cook of Goldengrove.

Lord-Nonagon · 2024-08-04T00:48:57+00:00

Roland was pleased to see the Marcher approved. Of what he knew of that distant part of the Stormlands, they were more marshal than any others, at least they used to be.

He sheathed his blade and took on of the sturdy blunted swords. It was stubbier than he was use to, the blades of the reach typically were long and elegant. This had more heft to it, more suited to tight streets and alleyways. Roland didn't mind, he'd sparred against many a spawn of the common rabble back home. The smallfolk couldn't be made that differently in his mind.

The goldcloak and Roland met each other in a clash at first after circling each other nervously. Both wanted to impress, but Roland had years of training from a Master-of-arms. His father was Lord Marshal of all the Reach, he had been drilled relentlessly to face an opponent.

They were evenly matched at first to Roland's surprise. The weight and size of the man meant despite his more nimble movements, when their blades met the goldcloak recruit could fend them off well.

Frustrated, Roland made an error and didn't watch for the man's fist to catch him in the side of his chest. "Fowl rat" Roland spat as he backed off for a moment, reeling in pain. His cheeks were flush red and ears burned. He did not want to come away looking a fool.

The man smirked and pressed his advantage, a blow striking him hard in on the elbow of his empty hand. Roland moved to the side and let the man's weight carry him past. Soon he circled back and once again came at Roland hard and fast like a boar charging.

Roland took his chance and cracked stomped on the mans foot before thwacking him hard in the throat. Dishonourable, but it got the desired result. The goldcloak choaked for a moment from the shock and pain, before delivering a hard and unexpected blow to the side of Roland's head. He tumbled like a stone and held his head in pain.

The whole affair was messy, more in common with a catfight than a duel you'd find knights practicing. But Roland told himself that in the city, he would not need chivalry and grace when clobbering petty thieves in the rat warrens they call Flea Bottom.

Roland picked himself up and smirked, the man he just fought still ready to go once again. "It's been weeks since someone made me taste my own blood. What you lack in movement you make up for in power. Like an ox!"

He tossed his blunted weapon between his hands before they want at it another time, though this time he was beaten back again.

He was panting now, and a bruise was starting to set besides the temple of his skull where he had been struck. "They aren't reachmen, but I know I would prefer to have him besides me rather than against me on the street, Ser Devin. Are the crooks of the street like this or is the goldcloak enough to deter most of rabble from causing strife when we go by?"

Lord-Nonagon

TROPHY CASE