Red Keep Training Yard

[Fel]

The training yard of the Red Keep, where many of the denizens and visitors of King's Landing meet to train and test their skills.

[Fel]

Ser Wulf Pyke walks onto the training yard, accompanied by Rodrik Blacktyde and Old Nors. Wulf spins a blunted axe around and look for some competition.

[The Flint]

In the corner, Ser Osney Santagar and Ser Charles Graceford are quietly talking. With them a handful of squires and men-at-arms. They give Ser Wulf a respectful nod as he enters.

[Fel]

Wulf, Rodrik and Nors approach the men.

Wulf chuckles and looks at Rodrik, "truely it is a wonderous time when a Dornishman and Far Reach man can come together in a training yard for the sole purpose of a nice chat."

He looked at Graceford and Santagar. "Perhaps you missed all the weapons lining the wall and thought a thorough discussion was the only way to get to the root of your two nations' problems."

[The Flint]

Graceford looked prepared to respond, when Santagar placed his hand on the Reachman's breast as if to say, "Don't bother."

Instead Santagar replied himself, "It was a Valeman who made me knight of Spottswood, thanks to a Far Reacher's campaign. And there weren't too many Dornishmen who had my back against the Basilisk Bitch. Than again it was a Westerman who made me Master of Arms, and a Stormlord who fired me. I've drawn both friends and enemies from everywhere, without the weight of prejudice."

[Fel]

Wulf seemed amused at the speech. "Well my fucking felicitations then, Santagar, on your wordly and accepting nature. And if you ever find yourself forced to turn unprejudiciously against your own countrymen, well you'll hear nothing but support from me."

[The Flint]

Osney smiled faintly. "Their wine is still shit. In that respect at least, I am a patriot."

"I don't drink wine." replied Ser Charles ryely.

"Well than, we have no complaints on that ground either." Osney replied before turning back to Ser Wulf.

"Why are you so concerned with Dornishmen Ser Wulf, have my countrymen done you some slight of late?"

[Fel]

Wulf grinned and shrugged, "perhaps it is the cowardly and womanly tactics they have historically employed, perhaps it is that they help the crown bend over to more easily accomodate being buggered by the Braavosi, or perhaps I am just jealous of those sultry, volumptuous women of theirs, with their full lips and rolling curves. Honestly, I cannot say."

[The Flint]

Osney smiled, "With the number of times your Lord father sacked Sunspear, I imagine there are more voluptuous women in Pyke Keep than in Dorne these days. And you won't find me defend the policies of the Martells. You know I fought Braavosi, back when I was serving with the Second Sons? They aren't so tough. And too many of my countrymen kept their weakness and their foul manners when they returned from exile. Still, I must imagine there are some of your country men you aren't so proud of either. Fighting on the side of the same bastards who slew your mother, for a start."

[Fel]

Wulf chuckled, "don't say that Santagar, you'll leave me no reason to ever continue such a legacy in Sunspear."

"Certainly, there are some Ironborn who are even more deserving of being shortened a head then the Dornish, but not because of my mother's death. Aranya Royce died a warrior's death, one we should all be entitled to. My brother supported the basiliks, my mother did not, they fought on opposite sides," he shrugged, "it's little matter to me who was right."

[The Flint]

Graceford snorted contemptuously, "So you'll bad mouth those with lickspittle policies towards Braavos, but not do the same for those who side with a yet more foreign enemy? Your position seems less principled than it did a moment before."

[Fel]

Wulf's eyes narrowed, "if you cannot see the difference between the honest test of war and the scheming policies of Braavos, then you're a greater lackwit than I had credited you as, Graceford."

[The Flint]

Graceford took a step forward and locked eyes with the Ironborn bastard. " You can respect an open enemy for his temerity and his ability without saying, 'it matters little who is right,' Ser Wulf. Who is in the right matters greatly, in the eyes of gods and men. Anyone who cannot see that lacks moral seriousness, and better serves his lord as a fool instead of a knight."

[Fel]

Wulf snorted. "Save your righteous indignation for an other, Holy Knight. In war, the only one who is right is the one who wins. The stag prevailed, he defended his lands and proved his right to them. That is all that matters."

[The Flint]

Graceford seethed visibly. "Why do you even bother naming yourself Ser, Pyke? Your vow to do right and seek the good are clearly meaningless to you. Whoever knighted you should snap the blade they dubbed you with."

"Gentlemen," Osney said, "let us save the philosophy for the Maesters and the lordlings and let this disagreement come to an end."