Post by The Stranger on Jul 28, 2008 10:51:07 GMT -5
The small party moved south along the Roseroad, quietly and subdued. The King and Queen were flanked by Ser Galwyn Fell and Ser Bertram Selmy, both of whom were both armored in full white plate wearing their swords hanging from their waist. Behind the royal pair were Durran Caron, the Master of Coin, and Lady Elena Plumm, the Master of Whisperers. Lady Sara Lannister, the Queen’s mother, rode behind the remaining Small Councillors, with a small number of ladies-in-waiting who were accompanied by several young girls; the Queen’s bedfellows. Ser Elwood Mooton, armored identically as his sworn brothers, rode at the rear of the column while two-dozen King’s Men and crimson-clad Lannister guardsmen were drawn up in even lines on either side.
Ser Mychel was mounted at the head of the line of riders, armored and armed as the rest of the Kingsguard. He wore a small satchel over one shoulder, under his white cloak. He had carried it since leaving the capital, and it had not left its spot under his left arm since. The white knight knew that his sworn brothers each resented their flight from King’s Landing, each wished he could have remained behind with Ser Benfry and the defenders in the capital. The King himself resented being forced to flee, but the Lord Commander had been adamant and so the party had left through the River Gate while the cloud of dust kicked up by the enemy soldiers was floating on the western horizon, and crossed the river under the cover of darkness.
The Roseroad had been completely deserted since the royal party had rode upon it; they hadn’t seen another soul traveling in either direction. Ser Mychel led the party south, toward Highgarden where the King would take up residence while the capital was unsafe. He was lost in a revierie of thoughts when one of the white-clad riders of the King’s men rode up to him. “Ser,” the young man said breathlessly, “the scouts… scouts found someone… behind us on the road. It’s Vardyn!”
Ser Mychel wheeled his horse around, signaling to the men to continue southward. He rode with the King’s Man to the back of the column, where he found a boy, on the back of a tired and dirty horse, wearing tattered linens that might have once been white. He’d clearly been riding for days, and had the look of a man who’d not slept in weeks. “Ser,” he said, recognizing Ser Mychel, “I bring news of the capital.” Ser Mychel waited patiently for the boy to continue, but when he did not a frown crept across the white knight’s face. “Speak, boy, what news do you bring?” he snapped.
“The city has fallen!” The boy spoke quickly, blurting the words out, though he clearly did not to say them. “The defenders killed fifteen thousand of the Basilisk men on the city’s walls, but were overwhelmed. The enemy now occupies the city, and the armies of the Mander and Vale have begun a siege to starve them out.” Ser Mychel saw the growing look of horror on the boy’s face as he related the tale. “What of Ser Benfry?” he asked softly. “What of my Sworn Brothers and those who defended the King’s Landing?”
The boy named Vardyn gulped and mumbled something. “Dead,” he repeated, “they’re all dead save a few who fled after the walls were lost. The Lord Commander ordered me to relate to you news of the battle, just before we were separated. He led the defense of Maegor’s Holdfast while those who escaped did so.”
Ser Mychel felt as if he had been struck a physical blow, and reeled backward in his saddle. Ser Benfry…dead? Since joining the Kingsguard four years ago, Ser Mychel had always felt a kinship with his Lord Commander, though the man was young enough to be Ser Mychel’s son. Ser Benfry Smith had been proud to serve the King with his life, and his death by all accounts, and Ser Mychel had strove to emulate him every time he donned his white cloak. “His loss is a loss of the entire realm,” he said quietly. He sat in silence for a moment. “You will come with us to Highgarden, Vardyn; we are too far along to abandon our destination, although it seems to me that the city will soon be in Westerosi hands once again.”
The white knight turned his horse around, and rode back to the head of the column in silence. The boy, Vardyn, who had delivered the news, took his place with the other King’s men, and joined the scouting patrols that encircled the southward-moving royal column.
Vardyn of the King’s Men improves to Expert Riding
Vardyn of the King’s Men improves to Expert Tracking
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Riding
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Expert Leadership
Ser Mychel was mounted at the head of the line of riders, armored and armed as the rest of the Kingsguard. He wore a small satchel over one shoulder, under his white cloak. He had carried it since leaving the capital, and it had not left its spot under his left arm since. The white knight knew that his sworn brothers each resented their flight from King’s Landing, each wished he could have remained behind with Ser Benfry and the defenders in the capital. The King himself resented being forced to flee, but the Lord Commander had been adamant and so the party had left through the River Gate while the cloud of dust kicked up by the enemy soldiers was floating on the western horizon, and crossed the river under the cover of darkness.
The Roseroad had been completely deserted since the royal party had rode upon it; they hadn’t seen another soul traveling in either direction. Ser Mychel led the party south, toward Highgarden where the King would take up residence while the capital was unsafe. He was lost in a revierie of thoughts when one of the white-clad riders of the King’s men rode up to him. “Ser,” the young man said breathlessly, “the scouts… scouts found someone… behind us on the road. It’s Vardyn!”
Ser Mychel wheeled his horse around, signaling to the men to continue southward. He rode with the King’s Man to the back of the column, where he found a boy, on the back of a tired and dirty horse, wearing tattered linens that might have once been white. He’d clearly been riding for days, and had the look of a man who’d not slept in weeks. “Ser,” he said, recognizing Ser Mychel, “I bring news of the capital.” Ser Mychel waited patiently for the boy to continue, but when he did not a frown crept across the white knight’s face. “Speak, boy, what news do you bring?” he snapped.
“The city has fallen!” The boy spoke quickly, blurting the words out, though he clearly did not to say them. “The defenders killed fifteen thousand of the Basilisk men on the city’s walls, but were overwhelmed. The enemy now occupies the city, and the armies of the Mander and Vale have begun a siege to starve them out.” Ser Mychel saw the growing look of horror on the boy’s face as he related the tale. “What of Ser Benfry?” he asked softly. “What of my Sworn Brothers and those who defended the King’s Landing?”
The boy named Vardyn gulped and mumbled something. “Dead,” he repeated, “they’re all dead save a few who fled after the walls were lost. The Lord Commander ordered me to relate to you news of the battle, just before we were separated. He led the defense of Maegor’s Holdfast while those who escaped did so.”
Ser Mychel felt as if he had been struck a physical blow, and reeled backward in his saddle. Ser Benfry…dead? Since joining the Kingsguard four years ago, Ser Mychel had always felt a kinship with his Lord Commander, though the man was young enough to be Ser Mychel’s son. Ser Benfry Smith had been proud to serve the King with his life, and his death by all accounts, and Ser Mychel had strove to emulate him every time he donned his white cloak. “His loss is a loss of the entire realm,” he said quietly. He sat in silence for a moment. “You will come with us to Highgarden, Vardyn; we are too far along to abandon our destination, although it seems to me that the city will soon be in Westerosi hands once again.”
The white knight turned his horse around, and rode back to the head of the column in silence. The boy, Vardyn, who had delivered the news, took his place with the other King’s men, and joined the scouting patrols that encircled the southward-moving royal column.
Vardyn of the King’s Men improves to Expert Riding
Vardyn of the King’s Men improves to Expert Tracking
Ser Mychel Lannister improves toward Master Riding
Ser Mychel Lannister improves to Expert Leadership