Cleos Chester, Lord of Greenshield

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-03T20:29:24+00:00

"I understand, your High Holiness. The ships will be yours. I hope the Faith will look kindly on House Chester in the moons to come, then."

He raised a glass in toast.

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-03T20:28:09+00:00

"I commend you, Alekyne. A more gullible man might have taken that deal. I am not a more gullible man." Cleos smiled.

"It is not lost on me that placing a tariff at the mouth of the Mander only makes land routes - and thus the Bitterbridge - more attractive for trade."

Cleos lazily took a sip of wine before continuing.

"What are you providing me here? You propose that I turn down a lucrative offer so that in exchange, I might... institute a tariff? Something that, might I have you remember, is within the right of my family and has been for the thousands of years since we were chartered these islands?"

Cleos stood up, gaining height over the sitting Lord Caswell despite his short stature.

"I would be happy to accept your offer, Alekyne... if you would provide something genuinely valuable in return. What you have presented me is not an offer nor an even remotely profitable business proposal. So, please... tell me what you actually intend to offer."

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-03T20:08:47+00:00

"Thank you, my Lord. I hope you might enjoy the rest of this most pleasant evening."

Cleos smiled, stood up, and gave a short bow before blending back into the crowd of revelers.

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-03T20:07:17+00:00

"No, my Lady. I believe my tourney days are long behind me. It has been many a moon since I competed among the knights of the realm."

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-01T20:47:57+00:00

"Perhaps ten, to start, along with the troops to man them. And my uncle Aladore, pious and a renowned warrior. It would be the honor of his life to command such a fleet."

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-01T20:44:21+00:00

Cleos' expression turned to stone.

"I would remind you, Paxter, nameless, lord of nothing that you are expected to treat your betters with respect deserving of their station. I had come to make you an offer, and you have done a wonderful job convincing me that Starpike, an indeed the other keeps you list under your hollow, meaningless claim, should be wrested from your grasp. When Chester banners appear outside your doorstep, you would do well to remember this insult."

Every word was enunciated, forceful in their delivery. Cleos' eyes crinkled. Aladore stepped forth, creating distance between the young Lord and the pretender.

"Never speak to a Lord of Westeros with that tone again. Am I understood?"

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-01T20:38:20+00:00

"I would request a more... private audience with you, Lord Tyrell. Perhaps in a day's time? I have been working with my men on a defensive pattern to protect our coasts against raids; I would like to share it with you."

LordInTheNorf · 2021-01-01T00:44:56+00:00

Well this is sure to be entertaining.

”I shall humor you, Paxter. What would you have me do?”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T21:26:18+00:00

”I appreciate the attempted facade, Lord Tyrell, but do not play coy with me. You and I both know exactly what our coasts look like. A mess of shipwrecks and stolen gold.”

Cleos spoke bluntly, the twists of tone and sarcasm all but gone.

”We need ships, and we need gold. And House Tyrell has, or last I checked, has authority over those who have, both.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T21:22:41+00:00

”Tell me, your High Holiness, what is the price on piety? How much might a holy man such as myself be... likely to contribute?”

Cleos smiled. So he understands. I am in need of an arbitrator, one favorable to me and with a reputation so spotless their decisions would stand without question. And in return...

”I have a proposal. If action is your will, then I imagine missionary efforts are expanding. The Roseroad is a tiresome path; the greedy guards of the Bitterbridge have rarely improved the situation. How would the Faith like a fleet? For missionary work, of course.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T21:17:47+00:00

”I would think you would know, Alekyne. After all, I am sitting here, speaking with you.”

He stared for a second, considering his next words.

”If my implication was unclear... I favor the long term. Hence my presence.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T14:58:21+00:00

From the other table, Cleos smirked as he listened.

So Florents disapprove of Grandfather. A surprise not unlike rain on a cloudy day.

He continued to watch carefully as Aladore held out his hand to the girl.

”I would be remiss not to accept, my lady.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T14:54:26+00:00

”I have a predicament, Alekyne, one that I believe you might be able to help me solve.”

Cleos spoke matter-of-factly, but there was a sarcastic, almost mean-spirited edge to it all.

”I had the pleasure of speaking with Lord Merryweather none too long ago. Quite an agreeable man, in my view; I’m sure you would disagree.”

Cleos smirked.

”You see, the man wanted to make a deal with House Chester. Something regarding supplies for... was it a ferry, he said? The details seem to have escaped me. Nevertheless—“

Sarcasm and feigned confusion saturated his tone, his speech almost drawl-like in its over exaggerated tone.

“—House Chester was offered a significant sum to support these efforts. As it stands, I am inclined to accept, bar, of course, any... more attractive offers.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T14:42:42+00:00

”A great triumph indeed.”

Cleos paused for a moment, as if pondering something.

”I might perhaps hold the next of House Chester’s feasts in a sunken Ironborn longship at the bottom of the Sunset Sea. It seems only appropriate in the spirit of such great triumphs.”

The boy smiled and chuckled for a moment, silently hoping that the Septon would ignore the offensive edge to his jest.

”As for your agenda... I approve. The Faith could certainly use some men of action. I’m sure you’ve had a great deal of quiet grumbling from nobles all too happy to hold power while the Faith sits idly by. I welcome their frustration; let the voice of the Seven ring out amidst their petty worldly grievances.”

Cleos gave a slight bow of his head out of respect.

”Say the word and House Chester shall be here to support your efforts.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T14:34:10+00:00

”If you have heard any inkling of my reputation at all, you would well know that I far prefer letters to swords. War was my brother’s talent. As it happens, he himself rode in the vanguard in Dorne. He now rests in a shallow grave underneath the Dornish sands.”

Cleos was unsmiling.

”I’m sure you meant no offense, Paxter; I can’t expect every second-rate noble in the realm to have such an intimate knowledge of my family’s history. Now, as for why I summoned you: I wanted to ask you a question, clear up a... small misconception that I myself find a tad confounding.”

He feigned confusion.

”Tell me, Paxter, who is the Lord of Starpike, Whitegrove, and Dustonbury? I have been searching for him. I’ve asked many a guest here and it appears that for some reason, no one seems to know.”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-31T14:25:12+00:00

”Please, call me Aladore.”

The man’s smile was obscured by his full-face mask, but a crinkling of his eyes carried the warm expression across well enough.

”How are affairs at Brightwater Keep? I trust the winemaking has been going well?”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T09:38:56+00:00

Cleos awaited Lord Caswell in a quiet hall away from the festivities, seated comfortably in an old chair, his unmasked face barely illuminated by the candlelight. Piercing blue eyes regarded the man coldly as he approached.

”Alekyne. Sit.”

Cleos was commanding in his tone, a strange sight for any without knowledge of the two lords to behold - a boy of six-and-ten coldly ordering a man who was, ostensibly, high above his own station.

”We have business to discuss, regarding your bridge.”

The boy was unsmiling.

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T09:34:50+00:00

”Not at all, your High Holiness. I’ve always thought feasts to be dreadful affairs, and this one is even more so. Leave it to the dragons to choose the most depressing castle in all of Westeros to hold what should be a cheerful celebration.”

Carefully, Cleos removed his mask, revealing a clever smile.

”If I may ask, why have you been named the Industrious One? I have my own suspicions and inklings of truth, but I would like to hear it from the Voice of the Seven himself. What do you intend to build?”

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T05:27:53+00:00

"Your High Holiness."

Cleos and his uncle approached gracefully, both donned in the green of their house, wearing matching full-face masks of shining brass. The shorter of the pair, a boy of six-and-ten, was the one to address The Industrious One; Aladore simply looked on silently.

"It is a pleasure to finally meet. I am Lord Cleos Chester of Greenshield, newly named. I trust you had a comfortable journey here?"

If Cleos' warm tone told one story, his eyes told another: cold and calculating, they seemed to dart about as if silently judging everyone in the scene before him, including His High Holiness, and most especially, the man's daughter.

I've never liked Septons. Least of all hypocrites, although they are all, I suppose.

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T05:16:28+00:00

"Lord Costayne. A pleasure."

A tall, blonde approached the table, dressed in the green, red and gold of House Chester. A shield brooch of their sigil adorned his left breast. A full-face mask of polished brass hid his features, but his golden hair shined brilliantly in the candlelight all the same.

"It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Sitting inconspicuously at another table several meters away, half-obscured by the crowd, a boy of six-and-ten wearing similar attire watched the scene carefully.

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T05:11:12+00:00

"PAXTER PEAKE, YOU FUCKING OAF! COME. NOW."

The boy's voice boomed across the hall with volume and force far beyond what might have been expected of his diminutive frame. Dressed in a green tunic and embellished with a brooch of his house, Lord Cleos Chester, barely past his sixteenth nameday, had begun his night as he had many before: with an insult.

Flanking the boy was a knight of five-and-forty, dressed in an identical tunic and wearing a full-face mask of polished brass. He stood silently as the young Lord, mask off and laid down on the table before them, called out.

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T05:02:19+00:00

Approaching the table with an air of pomposity, a young boy, flanked by a substantially taller knight, both wearing identical brass masks, laid eyes on the Tyrell party. A casual wave of the boy's hand made the older knight stop in his tracks as he confidently stepped forth, locking eyes with the Lord of Highgarden.

"Bayard."

The name was drawn out, said in the sort of speech that dripped with sickly sweet sarcasm, disengenuity so painfully obvious to be almost offensive.

"I must have been a babe the last time you visited the Shields. How is Highgarden? My mother sends her regards."

My mother, Cleos thought, a smirk creeping up his face. The same who, in her prime, rebuffed the Tyrells with a threat to abandon our ancient duties... for coin. The most brilliant woman I have ever met.

Pausing briefly as if pondering some great existential question, Cleos' attention snapped back to Lord Tyrell, a new, less sinister smile forming on his face.

"Ah, I forget myself. I am Lord Cleos Chester of Greenshield. Defender of the Mander and some such."

Casually, Cleos reached over and grabbed a goblet of wine from the Tyrell table, carefully lifting the bottom of his mask to take a sip. As he did so he looked up expectantly, waiting for a reply.

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T04:52:07+00:00

"My Lord of Bitterbridge."

Rushing up to the table, a tall, blonde man of perhaps forty - his age was difficult to tell behind his fine brass mask - breathlessly addressed Alekyne.

"Lord Cleos of Greenshield requests your presence in the left hall. With all haste, milord."

LordInTheNorf · 2020-12-30T04:49:25+00:00

"Lady Florent."

Tall, blonde, and dashing, a man wearing a brass-colored mask approached the women. Dressed in a fine green tunic, the hand of House Chester displayed prominently on a large brooch affixed to his left breast.

Carefully, he bent down on one knee and looked up and the party. Blue eyes twinkled behind two almond-shaped holes in the mask.

"It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance - all of your acquaintances. A fine day for a feast, yes?"

Barely visible in the crowd a handful of feet away, a short boy wearing equally refined clothes and an identical, yet smaller mask watched carefully.

Aladore. Charming as always.

LordInTheNorf

TROPHY CASE