The Tower of the Hand

[edricdayne]

Ser Tytos listens intently to the men, although he tries to make it seems as if he is thinking deeply about some far off matter.

[Horas]

The Hand listens with interest as the ambassador speaks. "We in Westeros have always valued the friendship of your people," Horas says once Arerya finishes. "Permanent embassies seem an excellent first step towards closer ties, and I am sure both of our kingdoms will benefit through trade. A military alliance makes great sense as well. The Summer Islands are unmatched sailors and archers, but Westeros contains the greatest cavalry in the world. Together, no power would dare strike at either of us."

[swammeyjoe]

"Good, good, I am glad that you find these terms agreeable. One of my assistants can finalize the details with one of your people. But for now, I have one request, I bring gifts for your king from the Isles, and wish to give them to him."

[edricdayne]

Ser Tytos Blackwood instantly snaps his attention directly to Admiral Arerya Taor, this being a matter of the Kings security and all.

[Horas]

"I am sure he would be glad to recieve them," Horas says. "Ser Tytos, would you escort Admiral Taor to the throne room? I believe the king is watching Lord Bettley dispense justice today."

[edricdayne]

Ser Tytos Blackwood nodded to his cousin. "I will escort Admiral Taor to the Throne Room at once. Please follow me." Ser Tytos said to the Admiral as he walked towards the Throne Room.

[The Flint]

/////////////////////////////////// (after the events of the Large Meeting)

Francis Varner arrived, clothed in a plain cloak with no identifying symbol. With him is Ser Torn, looking serious, his chainmail an evil looking black beneath a white surcoat. He knocks and awaits permission for entry.

[Horas]

Francis is waved through to the Hand's solar. Horas sits in a chair, drinking from a decanter of wine. "Wine or refreshments, Francis?" Horas asks as he enters.

[The Flint]

"No thank you Lord Hand. I find I do not have an appetite." Francis remains standing, surveying the room around him with care and a practiced eye.

[Horas]

"Sit down, Francis," Horas says, "Tristeza has told you of her negotiations with the Sea Lord?"

[The Flint]

Francis looked at the chair like it was covered in spikes, but eventually sits down gingerly. "She did Lord Hand. Did you deduce it because I am not my usual cheerful self?"

[Horas]

Horas raises an eyebrow. "I deduced it due to the fact that I told her to tell you. I assumed she did." Horas sighs. "Tristeza disappointed me with her negotiations. I have made it clear to the Sealord that your life is not an acceptable bargaining chip. You will be tried, but it will be under Westerosi law, by me. And I wish to assure you that you will not be punished."

[The Flint]

"Lady Martell tells me that Braavosi will serve in my tribunal. So how do you plan to stack the deck?" Francis asked. He wanted to exclaim about the insult and dishonor of it all, but the practical details were more important.

[Horas]

"I do not plan to let the Braavosi have any significant influence. Perhaps I will allow them one judge out of three. But they will not have a majority."

[The Flint]

"So than there only needs to be one of our spiteful, wish-washy, cowardly nobles to do me in. Well that's reassuring. Anyone I'd trust to decide my fate, will not be acceptable to the Sealord, and he'll simply reinstate hostilities anyway. This is a travesty Lord Blackwood, and it makes us look craven."