Harvest Hall

[The Flint]

Ser Torn of Blacksable, Castellan of Stoatheart traveled northeast at the head of 250 capable Varner men at arms. As they crossed into the Stormlands they flew the rainbow peace flag. On his person, Ser Torn carried two letters, one for Maester Alesander Hightower, the second an open letter to any of the Stormlords' whose lands they needed to pass through, explaining that the small troop was an honor guard for Lord Hightower, Lord Paramount of the Far Reach. They arrived at Harvest Hall, the home of Lord Selmy, and camped outside, the peace banner flying beside the Varner and Hightower standard. They explain the the guard in charge that Ser Torn must speak to Maester Alesander.

[Ellinda]

The guard nods and gives a shout. Someone, an old man in servant's livery, comes out, and then goes back into the castle. He invites the leaders of the party into the castle. The rest are left to cool their heels outside.

[The Flint]

Ser Torn of Blacksable and two of his fellow knights follow the old man into the castle. They speak little and wait dutifully for Maester Alesander to present himself.

[Ellinda]

Eventually Maester Alexander creeks in to view. To put it mildly, he is not a young man.

"I hear you have a message for me, tell it to me now."

[The Flint]

Ser Torn holds a sealed piece of paper. He shows the seal to the Maester, before breaking it and reading:

"Dear Maester Alesander Hightower,

My name is Lord Francis Varner, of Stoatheart. I apologies for not coming in person, but was detained. If you are unaware, Lord Robert Hightower died at wounds suffered at a treacherous meeting with Lord Lyas Bolton. According to a peace decree issued by the Small council I am to serve as Regent until succession is sorted out. According to heraldic research, you good Maester are the next in line of succession to serve as the Lord of Oldtown, and as such, are Lord Paramount of the Far Reach, a designation created in the peace agreement. If you can not, or do not wish to serve in this capacity, succession will pass to Justin Flowers, a bastard whom the crown will legitimize for this purpose. I wish you to know that I will serve loyally, regardless of your decision.
Most sincerely,
Lord Francis Varner"

Ser Torn finishes the letter with a shrug. "That's all it says Maester. I suppose I'm to await a response or take you to Oldtown depending on your preferences."

[Ellinda]

The Maester blinks at this news. It was not the sort of thing he expected to hear. "Tell me of Justin Flowers, is he of good character?"

[The Flint]

Ser Torn shrugged amiably. "He's an infant Maester. He'll be whatever his mother grows him up to be I suppose. He's a bastard though, if one puts more stock in breeding than in training. You can train an okay man to be a good fighter, I suppose, to speak from my own experience." Ser Torn said, internally cursing Francis for making him go on this diplomatic mission. "but you can't make an okay man a GREAT fighter, if you follow the... um... analogy."

[Ellinda]

The Maester's heart sinks. All his resolutions not to take the position are being overcome by the thought of a small child being given the Oldtown seat. "I do not want to be Lord of Oldtown. I have trained my life to be a maester and it has suited me just fine. But a bastard infant is too vulnerable for such a responsibility."

He shook his head. "I will not decide my answer at this moment but I will come to Oldtown with you so I can get a better sense of what is to be done."

He shuffles out to tell his lord that he will be leaving his service. An hour later he and his plain trunk await Ser Torn in the cold stone reception hall.

[The Flint]

Ser Torn escorts the Maester to the camp. Judging that there is enough sun in the sky to begin a journey, they leave, headed back to Oldtown.