The Iron Kaiser
The Kaiser has spoken
WIP
-
This section is for roleplays only.
ALL interest checks/recruiting threads must go in the Recruit Here section.
Please remember to credit artists when using works not your own.
Fandom The Prelude
- Thread starter The Iron Kaiser
- Start date
-
- Tags
- fandom
Optimus Princeps
New Member
The Red Keep
Aegon VI
"You wretch!" A scream loosed like an arrow, striking the poor servant woman almost as hard as the silver chalice. Unlike the words however, the cup send her sprawling backwards, hitting the hard stone floor with a pathetic yelp of her own, blood almost immediately pouring from her forward. "This poison is not going into my body, do you understand! Get out of my sight! Immediately!" King of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Smasher of Braavos, a knight in his own right and the great dragon stood on weak, shaking feet as he threw back the latest wave of servants that did the bidding of that decrepit creature. "If he pushes this poppy milk on me yet again, I will drown him in it!" The king declared with a vengeance, eyeing the young woman and those in the vicinity with a deadly resolve. He stepped forward, uncaring for the Red Keep's servant and moved past her. He had places to be! He had a kingdom to run! Who did this maester think he was, poisoning his mind with such concoctions?! 'I shan't be left without my senses as a treasonous lecher is left to plot my demise.'
It had happened fast, the assassination attempt on the king. It was only a week after King Aegon had gotten fed up with a months long feud with the High Septon - previous High Septon. The old ass grabber had refused the demands of his grace over the grounds of his gods. Aegon, not willing to accept such an answer, had demanded the High Septon be exiled for his stubbornness. The line of the Targaryen family rested on Aegon's son, Viserys, bastard or not. What else could he do with three daughters? Marry his daughters off to that worm, Lannister? Let the golden lion be hefted above the ramparts of his castle? 'I'd sooner kiss the hands of the Drowned God than let my ancestors keep fall into any hands other than ours.' He thought, bitterly at that, as he moved through another hallway of the Red Keep with a speed a man of his condition didn't often sustain.
After the banishment of the High Septon, who voluntarily vanished before the Goldcloaks could round him up, incidentally, Aegon was faced with angry Small Folk and a few devote knights making bold declarations across Westeros. Of this, he knew thanks to his chief informer, Lord Whent. 'He's not much good for conversation or revelry, but I can rely on him in these matters.' Which could be said not just for Emmon Whent, but his council as a whole. They call it small? To Aegon, it was large! The rest of Westeros could not compare to the competence and skill of his chief advisers, even if he had a few dubious members such as Gerion at his table. The thought of the small council spurred him forward. No doubt his dear friend Oswin Arryn, sometimes more a brother than either Vaegon or Aemon, was holding the realm together just fine without him. . .But. .
'I should be there. A simple stabbing is no excuse for my absence.' The act happened fast, just two days prior the King was holding an audience with a congregation of small folk and lords from around the Crownlands. It was typical for Aegon to do this, hear what plights they had and then later address it to his advisers. When Aegon heard enough the king made his exit, only to find a young man only barely old enough to know a woman charging at him with ferocious intent. A failing of his Kingsguard, a brief moment of hesitance or neglect, and Aegon's back was dug into with an edged blade. He was penetrated, left screaming as his blood caked the knife. Though, its wielder did not survive seconds past his assault. He was cut down after his initial puncture, further spreading gore around his throne room. It seemed the gods were looking out for the Great Dragon as the knife missed his vitals, the Grand Maester declared, and sought to put him on his dreadful poisoned potion. . . Aegon rejected that, naturally. He was a man who could deal with the discomfort.
Laying around for two days in bed was bad enough. Baelor would admonish him for such femininity. The fact he was alive and standing meant he could work, Aegon was hindering the realm by remaining so passive in a time of crisis. 'That damnable Septon is out there, doing who knows what. .' Well, hopefully Lord Whent knew.
On the grounds of his weakened state, the Hand had convinced Aegon to hold the council in a more suitable location, one easier to climb to than the Hand's Tower. Aegon reluctantly agreed, though inwardly he was rejoicing Oswin's decision. He did not have the power to climb the great many steps nor would he let himself be carried. Panting as he paraded around the Red Keep, a mood clearly sending him into a whirlpool of negativity, his grace arrived at the shut door where his closest allies awaited him. There, they'd find the damn Septon and hang him by his toes! Slipping the door open, Aegon Targaryen lurched forward, a pained expression leaking into his face despite his protests. "They're not all here." He commented to the lonely Lord Whent, who stood at the opposite end of the room, parchment in hand and held close to a window. "Bloody Hell. Their king calls council and they come late!"
An eyebrow rose from Emmon Whent, his stickly figure and dark hair suiting a man of his profession. He looked every part of a snoop, someone who pried into matters best left private and shared them with the most powerful people in Westeros. A pale hand glided across the parchment, finger saving his space as he turned to address his king. "Yes, your grace." As if talking past the pale, the mild and docile nature of the man had initially unsettled King Aegon. He looked equal parts corpse and Other, ready to lash out at Aegon be it with words or talons. "The council meeting was called for the twelfth hour of the day, it is five hours past noon." He said calmly, a hidden smile on his face. "We came to a unanimous decision after hearing the Grand Maester state that you were resting that it was best to postpone the council meeting."
Aegon's face went red in embarrassment, his eyes glaring at Whent as the king realized his mistake. 'That nap musn't of been more than an hour!' He missed nearly an entire day, two meals and countless correspondence. The dragon hated the vice of slothfulness, he stove to keep himself busy constantly. To be active in the affairs of the realm, rather than be complacent and keep the Hand with all real trying tasks. "I'll rip your tongue off if you don't wake me next time, Lord Whent." The king not so diplomatically declared.
The response was a more open smile as Emmon took his spot at the council's table, "I'm running out of tasks that won't end in my tongue being removed, should I fail you." Whent said with rarely seen mirth in his voice.
A gruff groan, Aegon found his seat at the head of the table. "Mayhaps that's a hint. Best go back and roost up like that bat on your shields." He replied with a manner of humor, black as it were, to a man he considered a good friend. Most of the council, sans Gerion Lannister, could be considered such. Normal banter between King and Lord rarely occurred. But with these people, who he saw so often and engaged in some manner of debate with regularly? He could afford to let them get some verbal shots in, provided they didn't take it too far and Aegon always got the final word in. "Are the others coming? That Cuz of mine surely told them I was awake?"
Lord Whent nodded, stacking numerous scrolls and letters neatly in front of him, having used the table as a makeshift work station for the past half hour when news of the king's awakening traveled to all those of importance. "I believe so. I came early because I had no pressing matters to attend to. The others will be here soon, mayhaps bringing good news to you, your grace."
Another groan, the king eyed the pale man and then bent his neck, spying the two Kingsguard standing at the door. "Out, stand guard outside and clog your ears. Let only the Masters enter, you got that? Send for something hot to eat and good ale too. I fear my stomach is empty. And none of that poison! Shall I fall into a stupor, I'll throw each of you off The Wall myself!" He roared, faux anger in his throat as the guards gave their passive responses before taking their newly designated posts. Lord Whent seemed ready to comment, though Aegon interrupted him. "Be quiet. . Just for a moment longer, Lord Whent. I've been hearing voices in my sleep, when I wake, and when I shit. I need a moment to myself, you're half a corpse already, what harm is there being more silent now?" Emmon didn't respond, only nodding, much to the kings delight as he massaged his forehead. Locks of white hair and a budding beard expressing the overworked state of the king as of recent - not just after the debacle with the High Septon, but the stress of a ruler culminating in a man who looked a decade older than he should have.
Aegon VI
"You wretch!" A scream loosed like an arrow, striking the poor servant woman almost as hard as the silver chalice. Unlike the words however, the cup send her sprawling backwards, hitting the hard stone floor with a pathetic yelp of her own, blood almost immediately pouring from her forward. "This poison is not going into my body, do you understand! Get out of my sight! Immediately!" King of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm, Smasher of Braavos, a knight in his own right and the great dragon stood on weak, shaking feet as he threw back the latest wave of servants that did the bidding of that decrepit creature. "If he pushes this poppy milk on me yet again, I will drown him in it!" The king declared with a vengeance, eyeing the young woman and those in the vicinity with a deadly resolve. He stepped forward, uncaring for the Red Keep's servant and moved past her. He had places to be! He had a kingdom to run! Who did this maester think he was, poisoning his mind with such concoctions?! 'I shan't be left without my senses as a treasonous lecher is left to plot my demise.'
It had happened fast, the assassination attempt on the king. It was only a week after King Aegon had gotten fed up with a months long feud with the High Septon - previous High Septon. The old ass grabber had refused the demands of his grace over the grounds of his gods. Aegon, not willing to accept such an answer, had demanded the High Septon be exiled for his stubbornness. The line of the Targaryen family rested on Aegon's son, Viserys, bastard or not. What else could he do with three daughters? Marry his daughters off to that worm, Lannister? Let the golden lion be hefted above the ramparts of his castle? 'I'd sooner kiss the hands of the Drowned God than let my ancestors keep fall into any hands other than ours.' He thought, bitterly at that, as he moved through another hallway of the Red Keep with a speed a man of his condition didn't often sustain.
After the banishment of the High Septon, who voluntarily vanished before the Goldcloaks could round him up, incidentally, Aegon was faced with angry Small Folk and a few devote knights making bold declarations across Westeros. Of this, he knew thanks to his chief informer, Lord Whent. 'He's not much good for conversation or revelry, but I can rely on him in these matters.' Which could be said not just for Emmon Whent, but his council as a whole. They call it small? To Aegon, it was large! The rest of Westeros could not compare to the competence and skill of his chief advisers, even if he had a few dubious members such as Gerion at his table. The thought of the small council spurred him forward. No doubt his dear friend Oswin Arryn, sometimes more a brother than either Vaegon or Aemon, was holding the realm together just fine without him. . .But. .
'I should be there. A simple stabbing is no excuse for my absence.' The act happened fast, just two days prior the King was holding an audience with a congregation of small folk and lords from around the Crownlands. It was typical for Aegon to do this, hear what plights they had and then later address it to his advisers. When Aegon heard enough the king made his exit, only to find a young man only barely old enough to know a woman charging at him with ferocious intent. A failing of his Kingsguard, a brief moment of hesitance or neglect, and Aegon's back was dug into with an edged blade. He was penetrated, left screaming as his blood caked the knife. Though, its wielder did not survive seconds past his assault. He was cut down after his initial puncture, further spreading gore around his throne room. It seemed the gods were looking out for the Great Dragon as the knife missed his vitals, the Grand Maester declared, and sought to put him on his dreadful poisoned potion. . . Aegon rejected that, naturally. He was a man who could deal with the discomfort.
Laying around for two days in bed was bad enough. Baelor would admonish him for such femininity. The fact he was alive and standing meant he could work, Aegon was hindering the realm by remaining so passive in a time of crisis. 'That damnable Septon is out there, doing who knows what. .' Well, hopefully Lord Whent knew.
On the grounds of his weakened state, the Hand had convinced Aegon to hold the council in a more suitable location, one easier to climb to than the Hand's Tower. Aegon reluctantly agreed, though inwardly he was rejoicing Oswin's decision. He did not have the power to climb the great many steps nor would he let himself be carried. Panting as he paraded around the Red Keep, a mood clearly sending him into a whirlpool of negativity, his grace arrived at the shut door where his closest allies awaited him. There, they'd find the damn Septon and hang him by his toes! Slipping the door open, Aegon Targaryen lurched forward, a pained expression leaking into his face despite his protests. "They're not all here." He commented to the lonely Lord Whent, who stood at the opposite end of the room, parchment in hand and held close to a window. "Bloody Hell. Their king calls council and they come late!"
An eyebrow rose from Emmon Whent, his stickly figure and dark hair suiting a man of his profession. He looked every part of a snoop, someone who pried into matters best left private and shared them with the most powerful people in Westeros. A pale hand glided across the parchment, finger saving his space as he turned to address his king. "Yes, your grace." As if talking past the pale, the mild and docile nature of the man had initially unsettled King Aegon. He looked equal parts corpse and Other, ready to lash out at Aegon be it with words or talons. "The council meeting was called for the twelfth hour of the day, it is five hours past noon." He said calmly, a hidden smile on his face. "We came to a unanimous decision after hearing the Grand Maester state that you were resting that it was best to postpone the council meeting."
Aegon's face went red in embarrassment, his eyes glaring at Whent as the king realized his mistake. 'That nap musn't of been more than an hour!' He missed nearly an entire day, two meals and countless correspondence. The dragon hated the vice of slothfulness, he stove to keep himself busy constantly. To be active in the affairs of the realm, rather than be complacent and keep the Hand with all real trying tasks. "I'll rip your tongue off if you don't wake me next time, Lord Whent." The king not so diplomatically declared.
The response was a more open smile as Emmon took his spot at the council's table, "I'm running out of tasks that won't end in my tongue being removed, should I fail you." Whent said with rarely seen mirth in his voice.
A gruff groan, Aegon found his seat at the head of the table. "Mayhaps that's a hint. Best go back and roost up like that bat on your shields." He replied with a manner of humor, black as it were, to a man he considered a good friend. Most of the council, sans Gerion Lannister, could be considered such. Normal banter between King and Lord rarely occurred. But with these people, who he saw so often and engaged in some manner of debate with regularly? He could afford to let them get some verbal shots in, provided they didn't take it too far and Aegon always got the final word in. "Are the others coming? That Cuz of mine surely told them I was awake?"
Lord Whent nodded, stacking numerous scrolls and letters neatly in front of him, having used the table as a makeshift work station for the past half hour when news of the king's awakening traveled to all those of importance. "I believe so. I came early because I had no pressing matters to attend to. The others will be here soon, mayhaps bringing good news to you, your grace."
Another groan, the king eyed the pale man and then bent his neck, spying the two Kingsguard standing at the door. "Out, stand guard outside and clog your ears. Let only the Masters enter, you got that? Send for something hot to eat and good ale too. I fear my stomach is empty. And none of that poison! Shall I fall into a stupor, I'll throw each of you off The Wall myself!" He roared, faux anger in his throat as the guards gave their passive responses before taking their newly designated posts. Lord Whent seemed ready to comment, though Aegon interrupted him. "Be quiet. . Just for a moment longer, Lord Whent. I've been hearing voices in my sleep, when I wake, and when I shit. I need a moment to myself, you're half a corpse already, what harm is there being more silent now?" Emmon didn't respond, only nodding, much to the kings delight as he massaged his forehead. Locks of white hair and a budding beard expressing the overworked state of the king as of recent - not just after the debacle with the High Septon, but the stress of a ruler culminating in a man who looked a decade older than he should have.
Mindfulness
Lurker
Lord Oswin Arryn, Hand of the King
Kings Landing - Tower of the Hand
If a servant was to walk into the hands chambers then they would be almost guaranteed to find the Hand at work, writing some sort of letter or plan or declaration or even just something trivial like an action plan for the rest of the day. Oswin had always been a conscientious and diligent man, he applied himself wholeheartedly to his position and understands the importance of his responsibilities and how the health of the iron throne is dependant on his competence almost as much as it is the Kings. But today Oswin was not at his desk. He lay on his bed, sprawled out across the large feathered mattess with the Lords head pointed up. He looked to the ceiling although it looked more like he was looking at nothing, or that he was looking past something. The Hand despised the idea of wasting time, it disgusted him that some Lords could sit around and do nothing. But his friend. King Aegon. Had almost died. And once more the 'strong, powerful and brave Lord Oswin had been utterly helpless. He did not blame himself, he was not stupid enough to do that, it was quite apparent that what had transpired was nothing but a case of bad luck. Kings Landing - Tower of the Hand
The thought left an almost unbearably bitter taste in the hands mouth, the Lord slowly rose to a sitting position and as he did so roughly rubbed his face with his hands. It was said that the King struggled to stay awake, so much that he had even missed the Small Council meeting that he himself called. Part of Oswin was disappointed in his friend and King, but another was thankful and relieved. It was quite apparent that Oswin had not slept for some time. With large dark circles under his eyes, an uncharictaly pale and dishevelled appearance. Oswin leaned forward as he planted his fleet on the floor. 'I don't know what I would do if we were to lose Aegon, Sharrah. What would the realm do? What would you do?' The Hand thought to himself as the three soft knocks could be heard. "P-please forgive me m'lord Hand. I know you told us not to disturb you but it is very important news. The King will be holding the Small Council after all." The nervous servant girl spoke to the Hand with a worried expression on her face, the nerves was not from fear or intimidation, Lord Oswin was a firm but fair ruler, he made sure that his servants knew their role and he rewarded them for it. But it must have been a shock to see Lord Oswin in such a state. "Thank you. I shall make my way immediately... Actually. A moment please." The Hand responded with the same deep and resonant voice as always, causing the servant to merely bow and take her leave.
The Hand moved promptly and precisely bit by no means hastily, he wished to arrive as soon as possible but he knew that this was a time of great importance for the realm. Above everything else on the Hands mind was 'I must show strength and power. I cannot give off the impression of a weak man. No even if it was simply a weaker man it could place the realm in great peril. For the King I must be as formidable as one could be.' It is not like the Hand needed to remind himself of that, it had been something on his mind since the stabbing of King Aegon. It would be neither true or accurate to say that the Hand was doing this to impress the other members of the Small Council. It was rather more the case that it was a proposal that stated the strength of the realm has not changed. The Hand dressed appropriately for a noble, but the Lord of the Vale had never been known for his fashion sense. He was lucky to have friends such as Ser Waymar Royce who fancied themselves experts in those fields. Generally that would not be something the Hand would admire in a man but he found it interesting that a knight as fine as Royce would take a liking to it. The result was a fine mix of black and blue noble clothing, with a broach of the White Falcon of his house and a light blue sash with the moon of his house. The Hand made his best efforts to clean his appearance up in the little time he allowed before leaving his chambers with a strong sense of purpose behind him. He quickly descended the tower of the Hand and made his way headstrong to the Small Council meeting. It almost seemed like the world around him didn't exist, he did not make notice of any details from the city or the Red Keep. He simply walked in a straightforward path to his destination, secluded in his own head. At times he felt like he had never left the Eyerie, that he was alone in this city where there is more people gathered than anywhere else in Westeros. Some would feel quite down about that, others might be content. But Oswin felt nothing on the matter. Nothing.
Once arriving at the Small Council he greeted the two Kingsguard. Made an extremely brief conversation with them before moving on into the room where his friend King Aegon and fellow Council member Lord Whent sat. The Hand likely would not have been fond of Whent if circumstances had been different. He respected the man for the work he did and for the friendship that he shared with the King. If the King trusted him then so did the Hand.
"My apologies your Grace, Lord Whent. I should have been here as soon as I heard. It will not happen again." Oswin did not make any attempt at an excuse or reason to why he was late. He seemingly threw away the fact that he did come as soon as he heard. He gave a short bow before making his way to his seat at the Small Council table and spoke once more. "It is good to see you recovering your grace. It will show the others how strong and dependable as a king you truly are."
Optimus Princeps
The Iron Kaiser
The Kaiser has spoken
Lord Gerion Lannister, Master of Coin
Kings Landing - The Red Keep
Gerion was an odd creature to say the least, a coward for sure and he acknowledged it himself but an idiot? Oh no that was certainly the last thing you could call him. Gerion doesn't care for the King in the slightest but if staging his favourite drama in Small Council meetings secured his position then so be it, as soon as he heard of the attempted assassination his first thought was not of the King but of his time invested into the monarch being wasted if he were to "tragically" pass on. Luckily his wife was always there to reassure him and what a fine wife she was, smart and honest always helping Gerion in every situation, the Lords may sneer if they wish but he knew he would be nothing without her. Then there was his daughter, a beauty worthy of the Lannister name and a calming influence on Gerion that was sorely needed as he fulfilled his role with increasing disdain over being nothing but a glorified librarian who played with books full of numbers all day, though wasn't that all he did at Casterly Rock? Either way his mood was not of sadness but of annoyance.
As the King had failed to turn up to his own Small Council meeting wasting the time of everyone there Gerion deided to do what he did best for the rest of the day, seemingly unimportant enough to be doing much else, managing money. The Westerlands had thrived economically under his leadership, savvy investments and less than scrupulous employment policies had allowed the gold mines to function faster and more efficiently than ever before, any talk of another house taking over the position of the most wealthy has long faded into memory. So here he sat...playing with his books...full of numbers, it was predictably life at least. Still it must be done for his children's sake? No that wasn't a good enough reason, his wife's sake maybe? That was good enough he supposed enthusiastically signing orders to fire unproductive workers, today was a good one, at least 20 got the boot. "Bastard small folk, thinking they can take my money and contribute nothing back. If I could decide the law I would have them all hanged!" He said looking up with a smile before realising he was alone and awkwardly snorting and going back to writing. He brushed his notes aside for a second and stood up taking a long sigh and looking into a mirror he had put in the room "I deserve more than this, look at me! I'm a Lion of Casterly Rock! Richer than even the King himself! One day I will get my due I know it, and non of those bastard like Whent or Arryn will ever look down on the Lion again!" He looked over at his door to see a rather confused servant wondering what in the hell he just saw and whether or not Lord Gerion was quite sane "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy you cretin?" Gerion shouted at the servant who took a slight step back usually accustomed to better manners even as a servant "I beg your pardon my Lord but I bring news about the Small Council, a meeting is to be held after all and your presence is humbly requested" Of course it was, Gerion was more angry than annoyed now, the King had delayed him earlier only to call him up again later when he decided to get of his arse and actually rule. "Get out" he barked at the servant who did as he was told.
Gerion changed into a a more suitable and expensive outfit that had a golden lion emblazened upon it before picking up a various assortment of books detailing the financial matters of the Kingdom. He was eager to get to the meeting simply so it could be over that much faster and so went on his way with a frown permantly attached to his face. Walking through the keep was a favourite pass time of Gerions, everyone from Lord to servant bowed to him in some way as he walked passed knowing their place compared to a Lannister and this made him feel like he belonged in a position of high power. Yet still something had been clawing at him for a while now, a sudden urge every now and then to just resign his positon and return to Casterly Rock, he had no idea why these feelings came. What was at Casterly Rock for him? His sons? Well he couldn't care less for them, maybe it was just pure Lannister instinct that a lion should stick with its pack. Either way he did not feel right lately and had a horrible feeling something bad was going to happen and soon.
Arriving at the chamber he looked at the Kingsguard examing them for second much to their confusion, entering the room he simply muttered "Utterly useless" under his breath and carried on. As soon as he saw the King he simply bowed as low as he possibly could "Your grace, how wonderful it is to see you so fit and well! If the whole realm shared you're constitution then no threat would ever faze us!" He said before rolling his eyes and making his way to a seat. He decided to take the seat furthest from the two current members already there and simply acknowledged them with a nod.
Kings Landing - The Red Keep
Gerion was an odd creature to say the least, a coward for sure and he acknowledged it himself but an idiot? Oh no that was certainly the last thing you could call him. Gerion doesn't care for the King in the slightest but if staging his favourite drama in Small Council meetings secured his position then so be it, as soon as he heard of the attempted assassination his first thought was not of the King but of his time invested into the monarch being wasted if he were to "tragically" pass on. Luckily his wife was always there to reassure him and what a fine wife she was, smart and honest always helping Gerion in every situation, the Lords may sneer if they wish but he knew he would be nothing without her. Then there was his daughter, a beauty worthy of the Lannister name and a calming influence on Gerion that was sorely needed as he fulfilled his role with increasing disdain over being nothing but a glorified librarian who played with books full of numbers all day, though wasn't that all he did at Casterly Rock? Either way his mood was not of sadness but of annoyance.
As the King had failed to turn up to his own Small Council meeting wasting the time of everyone there Gerion deided to do what he did best for the rest of the day, seemingly unimportant enough to be doing much else, managing money. The Westerlands had thrived economically under his leadership, savvy investments and less than scrupulous employment policies had allowed the gold mines to function faster and more efficiently than ever before, any talk of another house taking over the position of the most wealthy has long faded into memory. So here he sat...playing with his books...full of numbers, it was predictably life at least. Still it must be done for his children's sake? No that wasn't a good enough reason, his wife's sake maybe? That was good enough he supposed enthusiastically signing orders to fire unproductive workers, today was a good one, at least 20 got the boot. "Bastard small folk, thinking they can take my money and contribute nothing back. If I could decide the law I would have them all hanged!" He said looking up with a smile before realising he was alone and awkwardly snorting and going back to writing. He brushed his notes aside for a second and stood up taking a long sigh and looking into a mirror he had put in the room "I deserve more than this, look at me! I'm a Lion of Casterly Rock! Richer than even the King himself! One day I will get my due I know it, and non of those bastard like Whent or Arryn will ever look down on the Lion again!" He looked over at his door to see a rather confused servant wondering what in the hell he just saw and whether or not Lord Gerion was quite sane "What do you want? Can't you see I'm busy you cretin?" Gerion shouted at the servant who took a slight step back usually accustomed to better manners even as a servant "I beg your pardon my Lord but I bring news about the Small Council, a meeting is to be held after all and your presence is humbly requested" Of course it was, Gerion was more angry than annoyed now, the King had delayed him earlier only to call him up again later when he decided to get of his arse and actually rule. "Get out" he barked at the servant who did as he was told.
Gerion changed into a a more suitable and expensive outfit that had a golden lion emblazened upon it before picking up a various assortment of books detailing the financial matters of the Kingdom. He was eager to get to the meeting simply so it could be over that much faster and so went on his way with a frown permantly attached to his face. Walking through the keep was a favourite pass time of Gerions, everyone from Lord to servant bowed to him in some way as he walked passed knowing their place compared to a Lannister and this made him feel like he belonged in a position of high power. Yet still something had been clawing at him for a while now, a sudden urge every now and then to just resign his positon and return to Casterly Rock, he had no idea why these feelings came. What was at Casterly Rock for him? His sons? Well he couldn't care less for them, maybe it was just pure Lannister instinct that a lion should stick with its pack. Either way he did not feel right lately and had a horrible feeling something bad was going to happen and soon.
Arriving at the chamber he looked at the Kingsguard examing them for second much to their confusion, entering the room he simply muttered "Utterly useless" under his breath and carried on. As soon as he saw the King he simply bowed as low as he possibly could "Your grace, how wonderful it is to see you so fit and well! If the whole realm shared you're constitution then no threat would ever faze us!" He said before rolling his eyes and making his way to a seat. He decided to take the seat furthest from the two current members already there and simply acknowledged them with a nod.
Optimus Princeps
New Member
The Red Keep
Aegon VI
The bearded dragon let his violet eyes roam the new arrival, a good friend of his, best one might say, if King's had best friends. Oswin Arryn, someone who was practically Targaryen in blood. Aegon considered him as much, though being cousins helped them get personable at a young age. The man was skillful enough to be a king in his own right, a competent hand that helped reign the king in. Aegon, as much as he might loathe to admit it, had a plethora of issues that hampered his own rule. He was fond of women, that accusation that no one could defend the king from. He had a tendency to allow issues of the day consume him, unable to deviate his mind from a task at hand. Perhaps not the worst trait of a ruler, history was filled with middling and lesser monarchs who refused to even address the turmoils his people faced. The Targaryen King, however, was borderline obsessive once he found himself gravitating to something. Be it fixing the Rose Road, a decision he made and defended before this very Small Council, costing the crown a small fortune for the sake of preventing flooding, to several new warships be built to his specifics. Oswin though, he helped keep Aegon grounded, helped reign the king back from his pet projects and tried to teach Aegon how to multi-task. The bearded dragon found it annoying to do so, he liked to work at a single project, issue, or focus on an event and put all his effort into it. Finish it quickly and move onto the next task on the list, as he said so many times before.
Aegon's lips curled upwards, taking in the rather no-nonsense attitude and demeanor from his hand. His fingers danced across the surface of the table, drawing a hiss from the wood. "Ha!" He guffawed, the king didn't feel dependable. Two days down, sitting on his arse and accomplishing nothing. The day he decides to return to a state of normalcy, what does he do? Lay down for a brief nap and rest for five hours! "Our last king would have tore that lowly Septon to shreds in front of the whole city! He was a dependable king, strong and unbending." He had a grin on his face, thinking of Baelor always made the man happy. A role model in every conceivable way, Aegon tried to model himself to Baelor's expectations. To be a strong king, both physically and in mind. To never shy away from duty. Take every adversity head on and push through it with an iron jaw. His grin fell, what had he done in his first real test of competence? 'Fall on my back and scream for help. Let some lowly shitstain stab my fat arse.' His eyes struck Oswin again, the smile returning, though lacking strength. "I hope you've not let the realm rot while I was dealing with that minor issue." The king said, sitting still as a statue with his back distanced from the chair. It was quite clear Aegon wasn't recovered. Equally as transparent was his inability to sit still and allow himself to properly heal. It was an embarrassment, a strike on his pride, to see that he was downed by a peasant of all things. A king should be the paragon of strength, in no way should he be comparable to the lowest of Westeros. 'Only a Wildling whore could of done a better job at shaming me. Well, a Wildling whore or. .' His thoughts were caught off as Gerion Lannister came in. 'Him.'
Praise that came from the Lion's mouth was not dissimilar to what Arryn said, but it caused his back to flare up in pain. Gerion. . The Lannister money lender, a craven bastard who was as self centered as they came. He held no knightly virtues that Aegon could recognize, worse yet, rumors that his wife dominated their marriage forced any respect from Aegon out of his regal body. 'And a cuckold too, if rumors are to be taken at face value.' Even Lord Whent, a man that he came to respect over the man's consistent and honest behavior, was closer to a chivalry knight than this high lord of the West. "Aye. I've wondered the same myself countless times." He said, an attempt to make conversation, though his voice was dry and his eyes heavy on the golden lion. "I'm glad you're here, Lord Lannister. We've mostly assembled. Take your seat, I'll be starting once Lord Baratheon joins us. I've made you all late already, I don't mean to drag us into the dark hours of the night over my mistake. This'll take us less than an hour." His eyes were afire as he spoke now. It was over his assassination, there couldn't be anything else the king wanted to discuss. It was no secret he blamed the previous High Septon for it, inspiring some shit for brains peasant slob to take a king's life in return for eternal happiness. Soon enough, there would be fire coming from this injured dragon, daring declarations of torturing the most pious man on the continent.
Aegon VI
The bearded dragon let his violet eyes roam the new arrival, a good friend of his, best one might say, if King's had best friends. Oswin Arryn, someone who was practically Targaryen in blood. Aegon considered him as much, though being cousins helped them get personable at a young age. The man was skillful enough to be a king in his own right, a competent hand that helped reign the king in. Aegon, as much as he might loathe to admit it, had a plethora of issues that hampered his own rule. He was fond of women, that accusation that no one could defend the king from. He had a tendency to allow issues of the day consume him, unable to deviate his mind from a task at hand. Perhaps not the worst trait of a ruler, history was filled with middling and lesser monarchs who refused to even address the turmoils his people faced. The Targaryen King, however, was borderline obsessive once he found himself gravitating to something. Be it fixing the Rose Road, a decision he made and defended before this very Small Council, costing the crown a small fortune for the sake of preventing flooding, to several new warships be built to his specifics. Oswin though, he helped keep Aegon grounded, helped reign the king back from his pet projects and tried to teach Aegon how to multi-task. The bearded dragon found it annoying to do so, he liked to work at a single project, issue, or focus on an event and put all his effort into it. Finish it quickly and move onto the next task on the list, as he said so many times before.
Aegon's lips curled upwards, taking in the rather no-nonsense attitude and demeanor from his hand. His fingers danced across the surface of the table, drawing a hiss from the wood. "Ha!" He guffawed, the king didn't feel dependable. Two days down, sitting on his arse and accomplishing nothing. The day he decides to return to a state of normalcy, what does he do? Lay down for a brief nap and rest for five hours! "Our last king would have tore that lowly Septon to shreds in front of the whole city! He was a dependable king, strong and unbending." He had a grin on his face, thinking of Baelor always made the man happy. A role model in every conceivable way, Aegon tried to model himself to Baelor's expectations. To be a strong king, both physically and in mind. To never shy away from duty. Take every adversity head on and push through it with an iron jaw. His grin fell, what had he done in his first real test of competence? 'Fall on my back and scream for help. Let some lowly shitstain stab my fat arse.' His eyes struck Oswin again, the smile returning, though lacking strength. "I hope you've not let the realm rot while I was dealing with that minor issue." The king said, sitting still as a statue with his back distanced from the chair. It was quite clear Aegon wasn't recovered. Equally as transparent was his inability to sit still and allow himself to properly heal. It was an embarrassment, a strike on his pride, to see that he was downed by a peasant of all things. A king should be the paragon of strength, in no way should he be comparable to the lowest of Westeros. 'Only a Wildling whore could of done a better job at shaming me. Well, a Wildling whore or. .' His thoughts were caught off as Gerion Lannister came in. 'Him.'
Praise that came from the Lion's mouth was not dissimilar to what Arryn said, but it caused his back to flare up in pain. Gerion. . The Lannister money lender, a craven bastard who was as self centered as they came. He held no knightly virtues that Aegon could recognize, worse yet, rumors that his wife dominated their marriage forced any respect from Aegon out of his regal body. 'And a cuckold too, if rumors are to be taken at face value.' Even Lord Whent, a man that he came to respect over the man's consistent and honest behavior, was closer to a chivalry knight than this high lord of the West. "Aye. I've wondered the same myself countless times." He said, an attempt to make conversation, though his voice was dry and his eyes heavy on the golden lion. "I'm glad you're here, Lord Lannister. We've mostly assembled. Take your seat, I'll be starting once Lord Baratheon joins us. I've made you all late already, I don't mean to drag us into the dark hours of the night over my mistake. This'll take us less than an hour." His eyes were afire as he spoke now. It was over his assassination, there couldn't be anything else the king wanted to discuss. It was no secret he blamed the previous High Septon for it, inspiring some shit for brains peasant slob to take a king's life in return for eternal happiness. Soon enough, there would be fire coming from this injured dragon, daring declarations of torturing the most pious man on the continent.
The Iron Kaiser
Mindfulness
Somnus
Nothing To See Here
Rickard Tyrell
The Reach
The Reach
Soaring above the treeline with a grace unparalleled by any other creature, the beast made quick progress through the air, its wings cutting through the heavens like a warm knife through butter. Though it was a cloudless day, and the pale blue of the sky was unobstructed by any construction of man or god, the sheer speed of the animal made it hard to track the progress that it made through the ether, and a split second blink might be cause to miss the spectacle entirely. For those of astute observation however, it was a sight to behold, and in a single moment the animal went from gliding, to falling, and then to gliding again, though this time with a treasure clutched in its talons. A rabbit, almost as large as the creature itself, though not half as fast or cunning, was dropped unceremoniously before a small group of applauding young men. The beast itself, a gyrfalcon, bred within the walls of Highgarden from Northern stock, seemingly drunk upon the adoration of the surrounding huntsmen found its rest upon the gloved forearms of Lord Rickard Tyrell, Lord Paramount of the Mander and Warden of the South.
Far from a young man, though hardly a decrepit ancient, falconry was one of Lord Tyrell’s few solace’s in life: with a sword he was merely passable, and his skills on horseback were nothing of note. Were he to gain a few pounds, or indulge in one too many feasts, he might be considered portly, though as it stood his belly had already began to show symptoms of developing into a pot, much to the amusement of his young children. Altogether he was wholly unremarkable, though that was of little concern to himself. His was not the sort of disposition that would lend itself to the ideal of worshipping warriors and fighters, he believed that a man should be permitted to do with his body as he wished (as long as these desires were not in opposition to the will of the gods) especially in the comforts of his own home. Rickard Tyrell seldom left the comfort of his. Simple pleasures for a simple man, the stranger could take their destriers and chargers, Lord Rickard needed only a bird upon his arm, some food in his pantry and as much wine as was needed to drown out the thoughts of tomorrow.
“A strong showing m’lord, mayhaps we pair this one up with one of the lasses back in the rookery, he’s sure to have strong ilk.” Rickard gave his falcon master a half smile, his mind, as was often the case, far away from the present.
“Of course. I want a slurry of new birds come harvest time. I have designs for a grand hunt, Ser, let the boys show themselves off in front of our vassals. We’ll need dogs too of course. Perhaps you would inform the kennel master? Oh, and whilst you’re at it, you might bring this down to the cooks.” He knelt upon the grass, reaching down to examine the fresh corpse of the rabbit who had died only moments before. “I am quite in the mood for a meat pie this evening, though I am sure Serra will be of a different opinion.” He stood, dusting himself off before handing the rabbit to the groundsman.
“As you were m’lord. If I may, your son requested your presence this morning. I told him that you do not like to be disturbed whilst on the hunt.”
“Very good. I shall see him when we get back to Highgarden, I fear the boy has grown impatient as of late, perhaps he is just nervous for his wife, the poor women will be having her fourth little one soon, yet she is barely a child herself.” He grinned, “if only Gerion Lannister’s girl was as fertile as our Mina, perhaps Leyton might birth himself an heir.”
The groundsman returned his smile, though with noticeably less vigour. “There’s still time m’lord, they are but young.”
“No matter I am sure they are very happy together and that’s what really matters. That and the hefty dowry from her father. A Lannister always pays his debts.” He chuckled, “anyway, I tire of falconry for the day. I trust you, Ser, to have the birds properly taken back to the castle?”
The groundsman nodded.
“Good man! Then I shall see you there in due time. Gentlemen it has been a pleasure as always.” He stood for a second as the huntsmen and attendants around him clamoured to offer bows, salutes and other signs of respect to their liege, before he moved towards the carriage that would escort him back to Highgarden (for he grew tired and did not desire to ride back to Highgarden himself.)
“Let us be off!”
