Post by The Smith on Aug 31, 2008 0:54:15 GMT -5
Lord Alyn Corbray sighed as he sat in the solar of his manor, Far Home, and wondered as to what his purpose in King’s Landing was. The king had summoned all the lords of Westeros here, but had yet to give any reason for the summons, so Alyn was forced to sit, and wait, as he had been doing for months. He looked at the window of his manor. Far Home sat half way up Aegon’s High Hill, nearly in the shadow of the Red Keep, and it gave him a fair view of most of the city. The city was bustling with the life brought by hundreds of lords and their entourages, and Alyn was surprised that there had been no incidents yet. Normally grouping this many nobles together, with all their hatreds and enmities, was asking for trouble. Perhaps King Rickon instills too much respect in his people for them to offend him so, Alyn supposed.
Alyn stood and walked from his solar to the library, searching for a book he treasured written by his own maester. His eyes scanned the various large tomes until he came upon it: Wars of the Cloak and the Dagger: A Research of Lords Piers Bettley, Horas Blackwood and Francis Varner by Maester Vandamyr
His maester had always been interested in the subtle arts, and the men who worked tireless behind the scenes to achieve crucial victories that went unsung and uncelebrated. He had spoken often to Alyn of men like Bettley, Blackwood and Varner. Of course, given the nature of these men, it was hard to write anything concrete on them, but he had collected every piece of information he could, and theorised carefully on what their work had been and the impact it had had.
Of course, in these days writing a book that did not condemn every one of Horas Blackwood’s actions was deemed outrageous, and Maester Vandamyr’s work had been heavily criticised by many. Though the book did not condone Blackwood’s grab for power, it acknowledged he spent many years serving the realm as Master of Whisperers and subsequently the Lord Hand. Alyn had often disagreed with Vandamyr as to the Blackwood’s eventual goal in these positions, however. Alyn believed Blackwood had always set his sights on ruling the kingdom, and his work all along had only been an effort to climb to the top. Vandamyr believed Blackwood’s desire for power had come later on, and Bettley’s insulting dismissal of the man had driven him to a sort of madness.
Alyn lost himself in his book and his memories for several hours, recalling various opinions that Vandamyr had written about that Alyn had argued over with him. It had taken a long time for Alyn to accept Vandamyr’s claim that subterfuge and spies were a necessity to the success of Westeros. He had maintained that there was no honour in such deception, and that a man must not sink to the levels of his enemies in order to defeat them. But Vandamyr had convinced him that his people would not thank him for letting evil men rule them because he would not adapt himself to fight them on their own terms.
Alyn closed the book and sighed again. He put it back in its place, then returned to his solar. Sol Hunter was waiting for him outside it. Alyn beckoned him in behind him.
“Sol, there is a matter I need you to take care of for me.” Alyn said, as he poured two mugs of wine and sat down.
Sol grimaced, “as I recall the last matter you had me take care of ended with me losing the taste in a portion of my tongue.” He sipped at his wine.
Alyn ignored Sol’s comment. He had grown up with the man, and knew when he was joking. Sol was reliable, even if he pretended to serve reluctantly.
“I want to start a network of informants within King’s Landing. I need you to spend the coming weeks going to inns and taverns, and doing what you do best; making everyone think you’re their best friend. Get me the people who are willing to talk and sell what they hear.”
Sol grinned, “now that is a much more enjoyable task than trying to deal with an insane, paranoid Targaryen.”
Paranoid yes, perhaps not so insane though, Alyn thought to himself.
Sol stood. “Should I start now?” he asked.
“Not yet, I’m going for a run, will you time me?”
Sol chuckled and nodded.
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Out in the courtyard, Alyn stood dressed in light clothing with flexible footwear. He had taken to running around the yard everyday as physical training and a way of directing his frustration at being kept in the city. Sol stood nearby, opposite an archery target that had been set up, with a bow and arrow in his hands, aiming at the target. He stretched the bow back until the string was taut, then yelled “go!” as he fired the arrow.
Alyn began sprinting around the courtyard as soon as he heard Sol shout. As he ran he could hear the twang and thwack of arrows being released and shooting into the target. He urged himself on, each step sending him flying along the path he had run half a hundred times. Sol meanwhile was firing as quickly as he could, and keeping count of each arrow as it left his bow, leaving him little time to be accurate.
Alyn came finally round to finish his third lap of the yard. He bent over panting, feeling a sweet pain in his chest from the exertion.
“How many arrows?” he asked through heavy breaths.
“58,” Sol smirked.
“It was not,” Alyn said, a hint of a grin appearing on his young face.
“42,” Sol admitted, “a personal best for you, I believe.”
Alyn nodded, then looked at the target seeing many arrows clumped near or around the bull’s eye, and many more knocked to the ground below from arrows that came after.
“And you, if that score was countable it would look to be one of your better ones.”
“You’re too kind, my lord.”
Results
Lord Alyn Corbray and Sol Hunter establish a network of spies within King’s Landing
Lord Alyn Corbray’s Intrigue increases to Expert
Lord Alyn Corbray’s Speed increases to Novice
Sol Hunter gains Intrigue at Beginner
Sol Hunter’s Bow increases to Expert