Post by The Smith on Feb 8, 2009 11:56:05 GMT -5
Lord Samuel Tarly frowned, which seemed to be all he was doing these days. His son and wife had arrived safely at Horn Hill, and the King’s Tournament had still not yet taken place. Goldcloaks were a near constant sight everywhere in the city, and Samuel would not have been surprised if martial law were declared. Smallfolk and noblemen alike whispered about evil portents and affronts to the Seven, but Lord Tarly ignored the wagging tongues of most men. He slowly walked the training yards of the Red Keep, and spied Ser Ryam Flowers sparring with another knight of the Reach. Lord Samuel called out to his sworn vassal, and Ser Ryam missed a parry and took the flat of a sword to his neck. He dropped to the ground and shot his liege a dirty look.
Lord Samuel walked over and helped the man to his feet, his face showing no expression apart from the slight upturned corners of his mouth. “Lighten up Ryam. There are still things to laugh about, even in such times. Spar with me, I will not manhandle you so badly.” He laughed again, and drew Heartsbane, the sun’s rays reflecting off the dark tinted blade, the ripples of folded steel showing its true quality. Ser Ryam Flowers frowned, and drew his own weapon, eying the valyrian greatsword. “I hate sparring with you like this, my lord, it destroys by sword,” he said. The two began to trade blows, slowly at first. The steel rang out on steel as the two swords met and bounced away.
“Ryam, I’ve got some work I need to you do. We need to keep a presence in the capital in the future, just so we know what might be threatening us in the future. Keep an ear to the ground concerning the Ironborn and also the High Septon’s crusade against the Northerners.” He talked softly as they sparred. Both men were moving at an exaggerated slow pace, due to the live steel in their hands. Neither wanted to maim or kill the other, but both knew it was more beneficial to one’s skills to practice with the real thing.
“You know men in this city that I do not, and can find out things that I cannot. You’re better at that sort of thing than I am.” He launched another flurry of blows, and Ser Ryam caught them all on his sword. On the last strike the two came close, and Lord Samuel leaned in above the crossed swords. “I need you make sure you have men loyal to you, who will bring reliable information. I realize that will take time, but if you make sure you’ve got a network of men whispering about what happens in this city, you’ll find something out of use,” he said softly to Ser Ryam, who nodded.
The two sheathed their swords, and then retrieved blunted versions of their blades. They sparred for another hour. Both were sweaty and tired when they adjourned, and when they parted Ser Ryam paused and turned back towards his leige. “If I inspect my blade and find any cracks or chips, I expect you’ll be buying me a new one,” he called back with a grin, before leaving to make his way down into the city, while Lord Samuel headed back toward the Hill’s Horn.
Ser Ryam Flowers sat on the back of his horse, waiting, dressed in black oiled chainmail and carrying an iron studded cudgel such as the men of the City Watch wore. He had always been skilled at information gathering, and was personable and non-distinctive looking besides which made it very easy for him to make people tell him what he wanted to know and then for them to forget him afterwards.
He saw a man approaching him, cloaked and carrying a bundle under one arm, and recognized him for one of the agents he had hired in the city. He’d organized a small network of reliable men who would report to him, spread throughout the capital. Inkeeps, goldcloaks, tradesmen, and many others, all men who were ideally placed to overhear or spy on the workings of other people in King’s Landing, both in the city and also within the walls of the Red Keep.
“Please tell me you’ve learned something useful,” Ser Ryam said, dismounting as the man approached. Night had fallen several hours ago. “Aye, Ser, yeh’ll be pleased t’hear this, and to have these,” the man, who leaned in close and started speaking into the knight’s ear, and handing him a dirty piece of paper that bore the unbroken seal of Ser Owen Corbray, the Watch Commander. The cloaked man passed off his bundle to Ser Ryam who slung it around his shoulders. The gold-dyed cloak of the City Watch fell around him and Ryam fastened the clasp at his neck, before remounting his horse.
It never hurt to be cautious, there were dozens of men with networks of whisperers in the city and if Ser Ryam could keep any of his information secret, he would. He smiled though, to hear what the man told him, and he passed him a small purse of silver stags that clinked softly inside the leather.
“Go back to the Keep, when you get the chance, and make sure you let me know about his movements. You can reach me in the usual fashion,” Ser Ryam said, and the other man smiled and turned around, walking back the way he had come. When he was out of sight, Ser Ryam spurred his horse and took off at a trot down the street. He made his way to the King’s Gate, and dismounted.
He tied the reigns up to a post, and began to walk up the steps into the gatehouse. There were relatively few goldcloaks on duty, but all the same he was challenged once before he got to the top. He displayed the piece of paper with Commander Corbray’s seal, and luckily enough the guard challenging was one of the many illiterate Watchmen, so he allowed Ser Ryam passage to his goal.
He reached the top of the gatehouse, and stepped off to one side, walking slowly halfway between the massive gatehouse and the next tower, he met a guard who was walking slowly towards him. The man smiled and nodded slightly, though did not speak. He handed Ser Ryam another small slip of parchment, which Ser Ryam put into his pocket without reading. He nodded back to the man, and they both turned around and started walking back the way they had come.
He had been lucky to know this man before he joined the goldcloaks, and he was probably one of the few men in the City Watch who could read or write. He was high up enough in the watch to not have drawn such guard duty randomly; he had assigned it to himself wall-duty tonight as an easy way to meet Ser Ryam. As Ser Ryam walked back down the steps of the gatehouse, he pulled the parchment from his pocket and scanned the few sentences that had been written down. He smiled slightly wider, and paused. He had stopped in front of a brazier that lit one portion of the staircase, and he dropped the parchment into it, as well as the paper scrap with Corbray’s seal, where they both ignited immediately, and began to curl up unto black ash.
He watched them crumble away into nothing among the burning coals, and then resumed his walk down the stone steps until he reached the spot where he had tied up his horse. Untying the reigns, he turned the beast toward the Hill’s Horn, the tavern where Lord Tarly lived in the capital.
Ser Ryam Flowers improves toward Grandmaster Swordsman
Ser Ryam Flowers improves toward Grandmaster Espionage
Lord Samuel Tarly gains Beginner Intrigue
Lord Samuel Tarly gains a small network of whisperers in King’s Landing
Lord Samuel walked over and helped the man to his feet, his face showing no expression apart from the slight upturned corners of his mouth. “Lighten up Ryam. There are still things to laugh about, even in such times. Spar with me, I will not manhandle you so badly.” He laughed again, and drew Heartsbane, the sun’s rays reflecting off the dark tinted blade, the ripples of folded steel showing its true quality. Ser Ryam Flowers frowned, and drew his own weapon, eying the valyrian greatsword. “I hate sparring with you like this, my lord, it destroys by sword,” he said. The two began to trade blows, slowly at first. The steel rang out on steel as the two swords met and bounced away.
“Ryam, I’ve got some work I need to you do. We need to keep a presence in the capital in the future, just so we know what might be threatening us in the future. Keep an ear to the ground concerning the Ironborn and also the High Septon’s crusade against the Northerners.” He talked softly as they sparred. Both men were moving at an exaggerated slow pace, due to the live steel in their hands. Neither wanted to maim or kill the other, but both knew it was more beneficial to one’s skills to practice with the real thing.
“You know men in this city that I do not, and can find out things that I cannot. You’re better at that sort of thing than I am.” He launched another flurry of blows, and Ser Ryam caught them all on his sword. On the last strike the two came close, and Lord Samuel leaned in above the crossed swords. “I need you make sure you have men loyal to you, who will bring reliable information. I realize that will take time, but if you make sure you’ve got a network of men whispering about what happens in this city, you’ll find something out of use,” he said softly to Ser Ryam, who nodded.
The two sheathed their swords, and then retrieved blunted versions of their blades. They sparred for another hour. Both were sweaty and tired when they adjourned, and when they parted Ser Ryam paused and turned back towards his leige. “If I inspect my blade and find any cracks or chips, I expect you’ll be buying me a new one,” he called back with a grin, before leaving to make his way down into the city, while Lord Samuel headed back toward the Hill’s Horn.
Ser Ryam Flowers sat on the back of his horse, waiting, dressed in black oiled chainmail and carrying an iron studded cudgel such as the men of the City Watch wore. He had always been skilled at information gathering, and was personable and non-distinctive looking besides which made it very easy for him to make people tell him what he wanted to know and then for them to forget him afterwards.
He saw a man approaching him, cloaked and carrying a bundle under one arm, and recognized him for one of the agents he had hired in the city. He’d organized a small network of reliable men who would report to him, spread throughout the capital. Inkeeps, goldcloaks, tradesmen, and many others, all men who were ideally placed to overhear or spy on the workings of other people in King’s Landing, both in the city and also within the walls of the Red Keep.
“Please tell me you’ve learned something useful,” Ser Ryam said, dismounting as the man approached. Night had fallen several hours ago. “Aye, Ser, yeh’ll be pleased t’hear this, and to have these,” the man, who leaned in close and started speaking into the knight’s ear, and handing him a dirty piece of paper that bore the unbroken seal of Ser Owen Corbray, the Watch Commander. The cloaked man passed off his bundle to Ser Ryam who slung it around his shoulders. The gold-dyed cloak of the City Watch fell around him and Ryam fastened the clasp at his neck, before remounting his horse.
It never hurt to be cautious, there were dozens of men with networks of whisperers in the city and if Ser Ryam could keep any of his information secret, he would. He smiled though, to hear what the man told him, and he passed him a small purse of silver stags that clinked softly inside the leather.
“Go back to the Keep, when you get the chance, and make sure you let me know about his movements. You can reach me in the usual fashion,” Ser Ryam said, and the other man smiled and turned around, walking back the way he had come. When he was out of sight, Ser Ryam spurred his horse and took off at a trot down the street. He made his way to the King’s Gate, and dismounted.
He tied the reigns up to a post, and began to walk up the steps into the gatehouse. There were relatively few goldcloaks on duty, but all the same he was challenged once before he got to the top. He displayed the piece of paper with Commander Corbray’s seal, and luckily enough the guard challenging was one of the many illiterate Watchmen, so he allowed Ser Ryam passage to his goal.
He reached the top of the gatehouse, and stepped off to one side, walking slowly halfway between the massive gatehouse and the next tower, he met a guard who was walking slowly towards him. The man smiled and nodded slightly, though did not speak. He handed Ser Ryam another small slip of parchment, which Ser Ryam put into his pocket without reading. He nodded back to the man, and they both turned around and started walking back the way they had come.
He had been lucky to know this man before he joined the goldcloaks, and he was probably one of the few men in the City Watch who could read or write. He was high up enough in the watch to not have drawn such guard duty randomly; he had assigned it to himself wall-duty tonight as an easy way to meet Ser Ryam. As Ser Ryam walked back down the steps of the gatehouse, he pulled the parchment from his pocket and scanned the few sentences that had been written down. He smiled slightly wider, and paused. He had stopped in front of a brazier that lit one portion of the staircase, and he dropped the parchment into it, as well as the paper scrap with Corbray’s seal, where they both ignited immediately, and began to curl up unto black ash.
He watched them crumble away into nothing among the burning coals, and then resumed his walk down the stone steps until he reached the spot where he had tied up his horse. Untying the reigns, he turned the beast toward the Hill’s Horn, the tavern where Lord Tarly lived in the capital.
Ser Ryam Flowers improves toward Grandmaster Swordsman
Ser Ryam Flowers improves toward Grandmaster Espionage
Lord Samuel Tarly gains Beginner Intrigue
Lord Samuel Tarly gains a small network of whisperers in King’s Landing