Stoatheart

[melon]

"You are a truly a great man Francis I swear you knew when I told you about that marriage I would do anything. You will have your walls and your rooms you shall have your road and you shall have the love of an old man he has finally found the woman he wants. Thank you Lord Varner you have made me more happy then you could ever know."

[The Flint]

"Very good. The betrothal has my blessing." Francis said, smiling for the first time before the poor man. "When construction is complete, we'll have a fine hall worth celebrating a marriage in. Let us have a small feast to celebrate a union of two people finding happiness." Francis called for the other men to be admitted to the hall so that dinner could begin."

[melon]

"Thank you M'Lord." Garlan sits and parties.

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

A young man approaches Stoatheart on horseback, he is flanked by another rider, much older but both appear weary as if they had been traveling for many weeks. As they ride, the men talk to one another.

"Stoatheart seems bigger than I remembered, Gilbert" the boy says as the castle looms in the background.

"Well, I am sure any castle looks big to an 8 year old," the older man replied.

"I suppose your right Gilbert. Its been many years since I made this ride from Irwyn, my father took me here once for a tournament."

"Your father was a good man Alex, don't forget that."

The young rider thought of saying something harsh to the old man but choked back the angry words and responded "So what do you know of Francis Vardner?".

"Dunno, kind of a mysterious cretin if you ask me, some say he is like the weasel that dominates his coat of arms, small and secretive but he's got a mean bite if cornered. "

"I wish that weasel brother of his was still alive, suicide was to good a fate for the codger," the young man snarled under his breath, "I'd strangle him myself if he were still alive."

"Well don't be too anxious for a fight or you just might get one. We are in no position to make demands."

"Quiet Gilbert were at the gate." The two riders rode the remaining distance to the gate in silence.

[The Flint]

"Halt, In the name of Lord Varner of Stoatheart, identify yourselves." came the shout from a man-at-arms atop the gate. A good many banners fluttered along the wall. It seemed Lord Francis had summoned his banners, and most of them had come, for the castle seemed filled to the brim with men wearing the Varner sigil on their breast. Two crossbowmen eyed them suspiciously.

"What banner is that, tree and birds?" cried one of the crossbowmen.

"It's Irwyn, sure enough, his father was hung a traitor, but their bannermen nonetheless, lower the damn gate." the second crossbowman replied.

"Piss off and die ya poxy fool." the men-at-arms replied, but he did indeed, lower the gate and raise the portcullis, and allow the two men entry. Passed the walls, two servants approached to guide the men to the stables. When the animals are taken care of, they are given leave to enter the keep.

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"Why all the activity?" Alexander asked his second.

"Beats me I've been chasing after your fool's arse the past month and a half probably has something to do with the King's passing. Some less scrupulous men say that he was murdered by the acting Lord Paramount, a slick bugger named Fossoway. Where have you been anyways did Ser Rodney Blackbar keep you locked in the dungeon?"

Alexander looked kind of sheepishly at the ground. "Well, I. . . uh . . . I wasn't privy to much of that."

"No doubt you were too busy whoring to bother with the fact the whole kingdom's going to shit. At least tell me you had a clean girl, I don't want your pecker falling off in battle."

The boy only blushed as he followed the servants direction.

[The Flint]

The two bickering knights are lead into the great hall of Stoatheart, which, as far as keeps go, is not terribly large. It has a high ceiling, but the the benches are crowded together, and there are men everywhere. It's hard not to feel under foot. A dais sits at the front of the hall, with a long table before it. The largest chair in the center, which any fool could tell was the Lord's own, was suspiciously empty. A man in black with the Varner weasel on his chest sits at the seat at the right.

"Greetings and Well met. I am Ser Torn of Blacksable. Welcome to Stoatheart. I understand you're Irwyn's boy no, the gate guards told me they saw his old standard flying. I didn't think anyone carried it anymore, so good for you."

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"My father's only been in the grave a few months you insensitive prick. My father's seed won't scatter just because some coward killed him while he slept for standing up to the foolishness of that deranged lunatic Jarrad. My family has served this house honorably for three generations and to think were being pissed on now. . . I have half a mind to. . ." young Alexander begins to reach for the axes strapped to his back but Gilbert grabs his arm.

"He's feisty like his old man, a bit foolish but he's got heart, Torn." Gilbert says to the man. "Alexander, Ser Blacksable here has suffered too, I am sure his statement was not meant to insult."

[The Flint]

"No by all means," said Ser Torn, "Pull those axes, and we can do battle over whose grief is greater, the boy who lost his father to a mad man? Or the Knight who lost his wife and six years of his life to the darkness of this castle's dungeons. What a song that would make." Ser Torn laughed, and than it turned into a heavy cough. His time in the confinement had clearly harmed his health. "Don't ever reach for a blade, boy, unless you mean to use it, surely they taught you that wherever you squired? Did you come to draw on an old knight who fought beside your father since long before he bed your mother, or do you have some useful reason?"

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"I have come to fulfill my vow to House Varner, while my father is dead and our lands stricken from us, I learned enough of loyalty from my father and grandfather to come when called. While I might not have learned much about manners from my uncle Ser Rodney Blackbar, I assure you I can handle these axes as well as any man here."

[The Flint]

"That's a boast I'll see tested on the morrow Ser Irwyn. But tell me how did it come to pass that an Irwyn does not sit at Irwyn? That seems a strange irony. Your grandfather cut the logs for the walls and towers for that holdfast himself? Who is clearing Hanley forest of thieves and murderers and any accursed dornishman who makes it over the mountains?" Ser Torn seems genuinely puzzled.

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"They came at night when we slept," Ser Gilbert starts retelling the story of the demise of Alexander's father Johan. "Jarrad and him were fighting a lot after Marcus's death, you remember how close they were, was right around the time when Johan told the little twat to piss off on his request for double the tithe of grain. Johan knew the small folk would never make it with half the harvest so he told Jarrad to shove shit and the crazy bastard had him strung up from the holdfast. They told the rest of us knights to kneel and when we wouldn't they beat us and ran us off our land. I went and fetched Alexander here when the stringy bastard hung himself, in case his brother Francis would repeal the act. I heard the two quarreled themselves some."

[The Flint]

Ser Torn nodded sagely. He'd learned what trying to reason with Lord Jarrad Varner had earned a loyal man. Still, it wasn't good talk.

"You respect the title, even if you don't respect the man. Irwyn is bannerhouse to Varner, and there's no excuse for disobedience." Blacksable sounded stern, but it wasn't in his eyes. "And that's the Lord's brother you slander Ser Gilbert, so hold your tongue. Still plenty who say Jarrad had the right of it, though I'm not like to be counted among them. But Jarrad's dead, at his own hand, and Lord Francis rules in Stoatheart. So you can speak with him upon his return, though I know not how he'll rule."

[Ser Kenneth Coyn]

"So whats the plan?" Alexander asks sheepishly, "I hear all the kingdoms march on the Reach, a formidable challenge even if the six can't coordinate their movements fighting them one after another could be worse a slow bleeding rather than a decapitation."

[The Flint]

Ser Torn shrugged. "The plan, Ser Alexander, is to look to our walls, until we're told to do otherwise. The battle will be Between King's Landing and Highgarden. We, along with Ser Seth Falgrave, will watch the southern route, and see that the the Dornish don't rise against us as well. If there are other plans, I don't know them, Ser Francis is tight-lipped, especially for a Lord. Probably because he is no knight."