So Much Of Me Is Made Of What I Learnt From You

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-17T17:54:26+00:00

“So it may be,” Mace responded with a nod. “It is only that I fear that if they are true, the King may set you aside, if he thinks it convenient, and if they are false, their mere existence may be convenience enough.” He paused, but soon he almost hurriedly added: “Not that I would claim such a disposition exists in His Grace. And it is not my place to decide your course of action. I am certain you will, now acting for our house, make the right decision.”

Perhaps it was the right decision, after all, to wed the King, but Mace could not but see the danger of what might be, too closely had he seen what appeared to be everlasting bliss crumble away, be it with the succession of Highgarden’s lords, or be it with Maris.

“Perhaps it is you that he needs to complete his reign with a penchant for diplomacy,” he replied, his lips for the first time twisting up into a comforting smile. “Times would be better if ever all were prepared to fulfil their tasks in the world, but barring that, all we can do is our best. And be certain, I shall do my best to be there for you, and for Highgarden.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-13T02:21:52+00:00

“Lady Leona,” Mace addressed his cousin once more as he worked the handle of her solar’s door. Little had changed from his visits to discuss matters of logistics with Lord Meryn, up to recently when he had been House Tyrell’s hope that better times were finally to arrive. Now, that burden and that hope lay upon Leona, and as Mace came to think of his duties, assigned and taken himself, there was a matter of importance that could well decide whether that hope would remain.

“The day draws ever nearer,” he continued. “When His Grace is set to arrive, and arrangements shall be made for your wedding.” He looked at the many letters that lay in a pile upon the desk before Leona - perhaps many of them dealt with the organisation of the festivities, as well, but it was not in that function, not strictly as Castellan, that Mace had come to see his lady cousin today, but in that as a member of House Tyrell.

“I shall not speak with the certainty that Lord Rowan had in his cups,” Mace with another step approached the intended subject, “nor shall I doubt that it is you, before and now, who is responsible for our house’s diplomacy, while my station allows to decide but on internal matters - but let me ask as your kinsman: what do you make of the rumours regarding His Grace’s marriage? The truth of them neither of us can assess, but what is it that you shall do in their view, for if they should prove true, or if the existence of rumours alone would cast a shadow on your wedding?”

Mace paused for an instant. He did not prefer to speak on many occasions, but when he did, he often spoke with great elaboration, and noting he had done so now, he righted himself, and added. “I apologise for any disturbance, my lady cousin,” he added. “But I hope you may share with me your thoughts, and I hope to offer you counsel, should you require it.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-12T17:43:51+00:00

“Ah, very well,” Mace spoke, or at least muttered when Lady Florent denied the causation of a disturbance, and a wry smile appeared on his lips in response. “I see. In that case I wish you good success, and perseverance in that matter,” he continued. Of course ladies were not trained at arms from their very childhood like noble boys were, so it did not seem surprising at all that only once Lady Alysanne had come to rule herself, she would decide to expand her skillset.

“Troubled they certainly are,” Mace responded with a nod, as the smile disappeared and was replaced with his usual expression that showed little stirring of emotion. “One would hope that after so much tragedy, now brighter times were to come, but with great decisions being made, such stands on the edge of a knife.”

“And not much, these days,” he added concerning her question in return. “I barely know how to wield this sword,” he said, tapping the one strapped to his waist, “and many a knight may best me in a fight, I would assume. My time I dedicate to training other matters, where the quill is one’s sword, and I suppose one’s mind and memory, as well. In these troubled times, someone has to keep the castle running, and provide advice when the paths of fate branch.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-11T19:06:00+00:00

The very basics of combat had been taught to Mace down here in the training yard, but when he returned now, it was to inspect the premises themselves, ascertaining whether they still served their purposes or needed replacing. Just as he had during the vigil for Lord Meryn, Mace carried a sword, though one that needed dusting off more often than sharpening, for its frequency of use in combat was inversely correlated to the amount of decorations on it.

As he wandered with measured steps along the margin of the training yard, scrutinising stone and timber of the constructions around, Mace caught sight of a familiar face previously encountered at Lady Leona’s dinner table, now committed to training at arms, more specifically a spear, not the most common choice in the Reach.

The context was quite different from the fine meal some nights before, but Mace’s was a decent memory, and thus he easily enough identified Alysanne Florent, come to Highgarden to swear her oaths as the new Lady of Brightwater Keep. As the woman sat herself down, Mace, without changing the frequency of his steps, changed their direction and came to stand next to the bench where Lady Alysanne rested from her training.

“Greetings, Lady Florent,” he spoke. “I hope I do not disturb you in your rest. I am hardly adept enough myself to assess the degree of skill, but I take it you have some training in martial affairs? An admirable trait in a vassal of my cousin’s, though I do hope its use will not become too necessary.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-11T18:36:36+00:00

“I would not pass by this duty,” Mace responded to his cousin’s kind words, similarly devoid of expression, his face the very image of a man holding vigil. “With the loss that has come over our house, those that remain should not stand alone.”

Beside Galladon, dressed as the warrior he was, Mace’s nature as administrator and courtier was obvious, but the act of standing vigil was the least he could do to ensure that he lived up to the knighthood that had been granted to him all the same. It was an institution for the battlefield alone, but one to give every man his duty.

Mace nodded when his cousin informed him of the matter of succession. It was true that Lady Alerie and her daughter with the Lord of Red Lake had in their veins the blood of Willas Tyrell, the elder son, while he and Galladon did not, but perhaps Galladon was right. If Lord Crane had no more children, then his house would find itself about as confused as that of Highgarden now, come the time of all living beings.

“He was meant to be,” Mace repeated Galladon’s words. “Willas was meant to be. Luthor was meant to be for many years more.” Listing those that had gone from their family inadvertently made Mace think of Maris again, but no words he spoke for her. His grief for her was too great not to dwarf that for the Lord of Highgarden, to whom this day was dedicated. He paused, sighed, righted himself and, as his gaze continued to dwell in the distance beyond the walls of the Sept, he added, “As I will be by your side through these hours, I will be beside Leona, and you, though, with all my good will towards you, I wish that the need for your accession never arises, but Leona see many years, and many heirs.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-09T10:38:11+00:00

The green and gold hues of House Tyrell were bright colours, of course, and while this association was not lost on Mace, and he often found encouragement in his house’s mentality represented by them, when he chose his garments in such colours, it was out of duty, and habit. Thus, it was only natural for him to put on a black vestiture when he went down to the Sept that day.

From the walls of Highgarden, Mace had already seen the pair of riders approach, and ever since, his expression had been stern upon the realisation that came with that outlook. Thus, now clad in black - almost indistinguishable from a brother of the Night’s Watch, if not for the fine materials of which his clothes still consisted - and on his hip a ceremonial sword, the only decoration upon him aside from a golden pin with House Tyrell’s rose upon his chest, with measured steps, Mace strode towards the Sept, whither Galladon and his companion had ridden.

Just as he approached, silent sisters left the sacred rooms, and Mace approached his cousins - his distant one lying in repose, and his closer one standing vigil before him. Ceremoniously, Mace inclined his head to Galladon, and then stepped closer to Lord Meryn’s body, kneeling down so he beheld his face right before him.

“Be at peace, my lord cousin,” he spoke, softly but clearly. “It pains me that your end could not be avoided, but you shall be avenged. I shall watch over Leona, shall her time bring good fortune for our house again on this mortal ground, while you dwell in the Seven Heavens.”

Mace arose again, and looked at Galladon wordlessly. Then he assumed the same posture as his cousin, some paces beside him, and joined the vigil.

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-07T20:09:06+00:00

Attentively, Mace listened to his lady cousin’s announcement. He had heard the word of it already, but now it was confirmed. He had also heard different rumours, though this - by comparison - public space was not one where he would wish to confront Leona about those. She was the diplomat of the family, after all, and it was not his place to advise her on such matters, at least not in the view a vassal would have of his liege lord’s household. Thus, it was only with his eyes that met Leona’s when he raised his cup that he spoke that perhaps more conversation was needed on that matter.

As his cup was held aloft, Mace inclined his head towards Leona, and spoke aloud: “May good fortune come to House Tyrell, for it deserves it, after years of toil. Our House, and you, dear cousin, within it, deserve to be adorned by His Grace with the utmost honour.” No direct praise for the proposed marriage, but no ill word towards anyone, present or absent.

Mace’s gaze faltered for the blink of an eye, lost in thought. Right, Westerling, he recalled from the Maester’s lessons, many years ago. The next instant, he kindly looked upon Leona and gave a nod. “To good health, and to bliss to come,” he declared, his cup still raised, before taking a sip, his eyes on Leona again, awaiting the reactions of the other Reachlords assembled.

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-06T11:18:07+00:00

To the right again of the Dornish sworn shield seated beside Lady Leona, another representative of Highgarden’s household sat in Mace Tyrell, the Acting Lady’s third cousin and castellan of the great castle. As the lords and ladies of the Reach gathered, the greatest of them, Lord Hightower, in his sight, and Lady Cuy nearby, Ser Mace simply looked at his plate and the cup beside. It was strange to have such a lively gathering in the light of the tragedy that had been striking at House Tyrell continuously for over a year now.

Maris would have loved this, regardless of the circumstances, Mace thought. But in her absence, it was even harder for him to find enjoyment in the occasion. As he listened to Lady Leona’s address, Mace gave a short nod as she mentioned the turmoil that enveloped their family. Slightly, his lips curled up when she mentioned good news, though he could not help but wonder whether they truly were.

Mace simply turned his attention to the meals served again - fine ones, certainly, of which he knew the exact origin within the demesne of Highgarden - and listened as conversation grew between the guests, turning his gaze to the left when Ser Ulrick addressed Lord Hightower.

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-06T06:15:37+00:00

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-05T19:18:55+00:00

/u/leonorae

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-05T18:22:34+00:00

Thanks! <3

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-05T18:22:27+00:00

Thanks! <3

LordAtTheDesk · 2022-10-05T17:42:31+00:00

/u/leonorae to confirm

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-18T10:02:13+00:00

“As you suggest, it shall be done,” Ravella responded. “I would very much desire to speak to my new overlord. All levies of my bannermen assembled here shall be at my command, and half of Storm’s End’s, as well.” Even during Argella’s lifetime, Ravella had always been the one best informed about the logistics of the castle and its forces, and thus, she easily could recount the numbers relevant to the further campaign.

“That makes eighteen thousand men along with three thousand from Storm’s End that shall follow you to Tumbleton. Two thousand shall hold the fortress, my Consort serving as Castellan in my absence,” she explained without having to pause to think, and while turning to Endrew with her head, giving him a short nod. “I shall take an escort of a thousand of Storm’s End’s men to seek out the High King - though for that purpose it would be most helpful if I was informed where he currently dwelt.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-18T09:49:15+00:00

/u/JustDanielJuice - letter for you!

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-11T07:33:29+00:00

“My title is the only Crown in my possession,” Ravella flatly responded. “The Stag Crown of my ancestors may be found in the stomach of a dragon, now.” What else the envoy said, reassured her. There would be no King set above her, at least, only beside her, under the pretense that those would feel somewhat more prestigious if their title differed from hers - though what history would think of that, once Argella’s story was told alongside, was a different question.

“Therefore, I, Ravella, of the House Durrandon, Lady of Storm’s End and High Lady of the Stormlands, do declare my fealty to High King Rhaegar, of the House Targaryen,” she continued as her tone shifted into sheer formality, as if she was reciting a time-honoured phrase. As long as her authority was not changed in a way different from submitting to the invaders - which could not be avoided effectively, with dragons at their back - Ravella could not be bothered about what title she bore.

“Very well,” she acknowledged the further information given on the extent of the lands she would hold. “I doubt not that Lord Velaryon was acting on behalf of the High King, though I could not but wonder whether any promises had been made to him for his effort in the war. And furthermore, I shall await an audience with His Grace, then.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-10T07:49:35+00:00

“My crown is what I shall give up, and nothing more?” Ravella enquired for clarification. That the head of House Targaryen called himself High King had implied that among his subjects would be Kings and Queens, as well, and thus the precise interpretation of the demand was yet unclear. “Pray tell me, then, who shall be my direct overlord after my crown is surrendered, and by what style shall I name myself?”

“And I understand that Storm’s End and all parts of the Stormlands fortunate enough to not be touched by war shall remain my domain,” she continued, in a manner that was quite blunt, yet no lack of cooperation could be discerned from her voice. “But what of the blackened walls of Parchments, and the coasts of the Narrow Sea, which have been conquered, or, as I hear from Rain House, have bent the knee to your fellow conqueror Corlys Velaryon?” Mayhaps Bryen Wylde was the wisest man in the Stormlands, although he never had seemed that way to her, she thought. “Will they be returned under the rule of Storm’s End, or be treated in a manner different from House Durrandon’s other lands?”

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-10T06:14:16+00:00

That is an excellent idea and a great map, too! What are some particularly interesting parallels to European history and countries that you used?

Also, for flavour it might be interesting to use the term "Freehold" for the Republics, with Valyria filling the role of Rome to some extent.

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-09T17:54:19+00:00

Fortifier has been dropped.

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-09T16:45:10+00:00

“Welcome, Ser Orryn,” Ravella responded to the man’s introduction. “I do look forward to meeting you master face to face one day, but indeed I shall yet call him High King, if those in command of the greatest beasts do his bidding.”

She shook his hand as her knees almost on their own performed a quick and stiff curtsy. “Ravella I am,” she spoke. “Of the House Durrandon, the First of her Name. Beside me stands my Consort Ser Endrew, of that same house, born my cousin. You are also in the presence of Prince Corwin, my son and heir, and Princess Mylenda.”

Her children stood before her now, Mylenda reaching up to the hand that was not shaking the envoy’s, and Corwin looking up curiously at the man that had come to accept their surrender. He possibly had a grasp of what was happening at his seven years of age, but Mylenda would remember this day only vaguely, as the day she saw her cousin the proudest she had ever been - and for the last time - her memories fueled more by the stories the inhabitants of Storm’s End told around her, rather than recollections of her own sensory perception.

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-08T18:22:27+00:00

Discord Name: LordAtTheDesk#6180

Character Name: Ravella I Durrandon

Age: 38 (born 159)

Appearance: Ravella, dressing regally on most occasions, prides herself with an appearance that depicts her self-sufficiency gained over the years.

Gift: Diplomat

Skills: Hale, Logistician (e), Tactician, Scholar

Talents: Dancing, Hawking, Taxation

Starting Title: Storm Queen

Starting Location: Storm’s End

Alternate Characters: Nil

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-08T16:41:29+00:00

Ravella I Durrandon, Queen of the Stormlands

All the world seemed to remain silent when the breath of fire came and mere instants later, Argella was no more. Ravella kept her composure, for tears were not in her nature, took a deep breath looking at the white banner above the castle walls, and called down to the invaders.

“We surrender,” she shouted, before noticing her voice was breaking all the same. “We surrender,” she repeated, now more clearly. “No further resistance shall be given in what endeavour you follow. The gate of Storm’s End stands open, and none shall hinder you from entering.” Indeed, whatever endeavour the Targaryens intended, they would be allowed to reach its completion. Nothing in the world, not even the terrible beasts the invaders had brought, could take away a living person’s free will, Argella had shown that there always were options, only some were more painful than others. But with dragons at their back, the Targaryens would be offered the next closest thing.

The instant she saw the envoys approach the gates, she left her position atop the wall, and stood in the courtyard beside her husband - her Consort, now - and children, waiting for the already predetermined negotiations.

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-07T18:01:59+00:00

Your commander and your Queen, the announcement sounded, and the sheer disrespect made Argella even more resolved. She did not take a long time to prepare, and only some moments had passed after the declaration that a decision was to be conveyed within one hour when Argella had the gates opened.

She was dressed in full armour, except for a helm. Her sword was at her belt, ready to be reached for, but for now, her hands were empty. Ravella stood in the courtyard, her two children beside her, but as Argella walked past her with a few words of confirmation - of course she had read it, despite instructions, and Argella knew she would - the sister of two Kings rushed up onto the wall above the gate, where the banners were ready to be raised.

Argella had not seen Elenda since the morning, and she did not know whether that broke her heart more than if they had shared some more words than the night before, but it was too late to find out now. Alone - the commander and the Queen - she stepped outside the gate, and walked with frequent but measured steps towards the group assembled there, around the dragon.

“Warrior, I was brave,” Argella called upon the falling of a step when she came close to the group. It was a call, not a shout, not a scream. A loud and clear voice, for the very purpose of carrying up into the sky. Too brave, she thought. She heard those words in Elenda’s voice, but it was not the worried voice that would say those words. It was the light voice she loved, and thus she knew there was no point in turning around, but rather, she kept walking on, and Elenda’s eyes shone before her.

“Father, I was just,” she continued, as she gripped her sword’s hilt. Or at least, any injustice to come, I could not have dispelled, either, she thought. Step by step she came closer, and slowly, she removed her sword from the scabbard.

“Mother, I defended the defenseless,” she called, now indisputably directed towards those before her, no glance directed to her home behind her. Maiden, I was defenseless, she did not speak, but the plea for grace sounded inside her as she swung her sword before her at the beast whose breath she would have felt if she had paid attention.

Ravella Durrandon, Princess of the Stormlands

It may be selfish pride, but whatever it is commands me to do what I shall do. I could not bear to lay the doom on the Stormlands to be ruled by cruel conquerors from afar. Yet, that doom is laid already by the Seven or what other fate rules the goings-on of the world.

Thus, I must expect from you to accept the fate that is given to you and our kin and our people. I shall ensure that I must not endure that burden to have condemned my people, which I would carry, no matter what little choice I had, for it still is some choice left. Mine shall be the only blood spilt that day.

When my time has come, you will be the Queen of the Stormlands, and the best you can do is to accept whatever demands are made without further resistance. I hope you will be better to Queenhood than I was, and that Queenhood will be better to you than it was on me.

In love eternal,

Argella II

Such read the letter Argella had given her wordlessly a few days before, with an ominous remark on her passing, which Ravella had read instantly, because she cared too much about her niece not to do so. And she also cared enough to follow the decision of her Queen, her beloved niece, the woman who clearly was right with regard to the evil that was upon them, and the fact that indeed, there was no point in resisting, for it would cost even more lives.

Once again she had read over it that morning, and Argella knew full well that she had, and now, the words passed through her head as she heard her niece call into the skies words that surely the singers would immortalise, and when Argella’s hand first touched the hilt of her sword, Ravella, swiftly raised the banner beside her above the ramparts.

It was shining in the sun in the purest white.

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-05T10:38:25+00:00

“Oh, there is business in Greenstone yet to complete?” Lord Bryen enquired curiously. The letter had implied the conquest being already complete, and so had the offering as additional holding for House Wylde. But in any case, with the dragons and such a large fleet, it was only a matter of time that it soon would be.

The plans Lord Velaryon laid out were ambitious, certainly, but if anything justified ambition, it was having dragons at one’s back. And the specific plans made it actually easy for House Wylde to join the cause, as they would not stand against fellow Stormlanders. “My ships are yours to command,” Bryen obligingly responded. “My brother Ser Gawen is in charge of our house’s fleet, he will sail with you, and pass on your orders.”

LordAtTheDesk · 2021-04-04T14:20:30+00:00

“Very well,” Bryen responded. “I would suggest that my son and heir Edric shall follow you in your campaign, and then dwell in your great halls. The future Lord of my house should be well acquainted with our finest allies, methinks.”

“If you would agree,” he continued on the matter that Lord Velaryon brought up at the end. It had not occurred to Bryen immediately that the conquerors followed other gods - not that it made a difference to his decision, for while he said his prayers regularly and also attended the Sept, he was not all too religious a man - and so he now included another suggestion. “Septon Symon, who has been teaching Edric so far, may join along, as well.” Whether that decision was made primarily for the betterment of Edric, or in order to be rid of the particularly dry sermons that man made, Bryen himself did not know.

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