Sarsfield

[Quenton Baratheon]

A modest keep to the northeast of Lannisport on the River Road. This is the home of house Sarsfield, whose words are 'True to the Mark' and whose sigil is a green arrow on a white bend on green.

[Quenton Baratheon]

A few days from making their Lannisport escape, Ser Steffen Lannister, Lady Lysa Farman along with Henree and Bosmyn from Steffen's guard arrive at Sarsfield.

They are granted entry at the keep, which appears to be a hive of activity. It would appear the men here are preparing for a march further north up the River Road to the Golden Tooth, in order to join forces with some of the Westerlands' other houses.

On hearing he has guests, the young Lord Harwin Sarsfield takes the four refugees into the hall, and orders his servants to bring food. He asks them of what they had seen and heard in Lannisport, as he himself had only the word of letter to go on. He appears appalled at what he hears, muttering short prayers as he listens. When Steffen has finished relaying his story, Lord Sarsfield outlines the plan of action for the mobilisation of the troops. His younger brother, Ser Walter, is to lead a party of common men up the River Road in two days time, once they have been properly assembled from the Sarsfield lands. The next day, the true soldiers of the house will leave with Lord Harwin, leaving behind a skeleton garrison of men who have volunteered to stay, knowing full well that should invaders come this way they will almost certainly be swept aside.

Steffen asks if he and the three others can accompany Ser Walter and the first company as far as the Golden Tooth, a wish granted by Lord Harwin. Conversation is exchanged for another hour, before Lord Harwin makes his apologies and returns to the business of organising the troops. Steffen and his party are asked to make themselves at home, and given the freedom of the keep.

[Quenton Baratheon]

Two days hence, the four refugees make their way north up the River Road, riding with Ser Walter Sarsfield and a force composed mainly of just over one hundred serfs armed with rudimentary weapons.

Ser Steffen rides alongside Ser Walter, a blond-haired knight in his early twenties. This man rode with little fear, he was a veteran of the Dornish campaign and had fought in the melee at a few tournaments, the most recent being the Queen's Tourney at King's Landing. He seemed to agree with Steffen's opinion on many matters, leading to Steffen being unable to decide whether he was just sucking up, or whether they were genuinely likeminded.

"So you're heading to Riverrun?" Ser Walter asked inquiringly. Steffen nodded.

"What're you hoping to find there?" he asked furtherly, unsatisfied with Steffen's response.

Steffen smiled. "Why, I simpy want to look upon my former home once more, albeit rebuilt from the time I spent there," he said grimacing at the thought of those fucking Ironborn bastards.

Walter nodded slowly. "Fair enough..." he said, knowing he wasn't going to get the real answer out of this man they called 'the worm'.

The ride that day was long, hard and slow. The vast majority of the peasant force was not mounted, and despite some having marched with armies like this before, they were certainly not all that well prepared for it. As they laid out camp that evening, in a large field found to the side of the road, Walter brought a skin of wine round to where Steffen was seated, watching the tents being put up. He thanked the knight heartily, a drink was very much appreciated. Steffen drank heavily, and long into the night, perhaps saying a little more than he intended of his plans to Ser Walter. Either way, on the following days march, he found the knight eager to make sure he was as comfortable as possible, always out to please.

He's after something, Steffen thought with suspicion.