Seven Kingdoms - A Game of Thrones MultiplayAAR

Henry v. Keiper said:

Well, in my defense, if you took control of Highgarden, you'd probably want to keep up appearances.

Click to expand...

And when you control Storm's End you want to avoid returning there at all costs...

BTW can you add a pic of Valiette in your AAR?

Andre Massena said:

Maybe in a few hundred years but I doubt the house that just rose from stewards a few years ago would be too picky, especially when they are marrying into the oldest house on the continent

Click to expand...

Oldest? Starks been around pretty long too. Anyways, blame that Proud trait. I swear Tyrells must be predisposed towards it. Also:

Andrzej I said:

Oldest? Starks been around pretty long too. Anyways, blame that Proud trait. I swear Tyrells must be predisposed towards it. Also:

Click to expand...

Next up on teen mom. Lady Paramount Valiete tells us of her experience of giving birth at a young age and how she struggle to make everything fit together in her daily life.

Asphyxion said:

Next up on teen mom. Lady Paramount Valiete tells us of her experience of giving birth at a young age and how she struggle to make everything fit together in her daily life.

Click to expand...

I wish I had something to give you for this.

Well, she is a Tyrell

Falia's better. The Black Rose? Come on.

So we didn't play today but we had a wacky AFFC session

Andre Massena said:

So we didn't play today but we had a wacky AFFC session

Click to expand...

The Vale(Wales) want's independence!

Andre Massena said:

BTW can you add a pic of Valiette in your AAR?

Click to expand...

I was intentionally saving it for the next update, actually.

Andre Massena said:

Lady Valiete when she comes of age:

Click to expand...

Nobody look at the spoiler until my next update :b

Henry v. Keiper said:

I was intentionally saving it for the next update, actually.



Nobody look at the spoiler until my next update :b

Click to expand...

My bad

Sitting with her feet resting in the water of the Summer Sea, Mariya Martell listened as her grand children and even some of her great grandchildren played in the water. Long had her sight had left her, but she could still "see" within her mind the beauty of this open water. She had always considered taking a long sea voyage, but as her body began to deteriorate so did those dreams went with her sight.

Now she sat with her feet in the water and pretended to watch as her eldest grandchild, Obara, splashed her little brother, Olyvar. Though she was fat, blind, old, and now completely bald, Mariya knew she was still strong. Unbowed, Unbent, Unbroken. Strong words, her words. They were even said before a woman who is now a Queen and her dragon who was at her side.


This woman may now be a Queen, but not of Dorne. Dorne will not fall to these willy Targaryen's and their dragons. The Andals are weak and so fell in battle. The First Men are stronger men, but led by a weakling who surrendered without a fight. Now the Rhoynar are even stronger, her people are the only ones who stood against the might of these dragons and won. Even if they were led by the "Yellow Toad of Dorne" as that fool Agrillac had called her. That man got his just rewards, a sword through the heart, the fall of his Kingdom, and the end of his line.

Hearing and in some ways feeling, Mariya knew that her son had come up to stand beside her. "Why do you sit out here looking over as these children play in the water? Mother, you are blind, you can not see them and so you sitting out here every few days to "watch" your grandchildren play is a foolish farce. Stay indoors and rest."

"Quentyn, do not speak to me of what I need to do. I do what is needed, every time I make any actions. Like when I and I alone stood before the Targaryen and her dragon. Where were you then? Hiding in a cave?"

He did not even try to mask his sighs of contempt in her presence these days. "You know damn well where I was. While you spent your days relaxing in Sunspear, it was I who led our men in the war which saw the foreign invaders driven out of our land. Yes, you stood up against the dragon once, but that wasn't bravery. You are old and there was no reason to try to prolong your life, so you didn't."

Looking out over the water himself, Quentyn tried to smile as he watched some of his children play but couldn't. Something over the years had hardened him. The boy, even the young man he had once been was gone. In its place was a cynical, angry man who could see the future of Dorne, but felt helpless to do anything to change it.

"I'm sorry mother for my words. It's just Dorne is in such a difficult position right now. The Targaryen invaders were able to capture all of Westeros but our land. We stopped them once, but can we do it again? Before the Targaryen's control on their lands was small as they were newly conquered. Now though three years have gone by and they are building stronger ties to these other Great Houses. We need to start looking for our own allies or else we might find ourselves fighting an army we can not hold back and Dorne will be forced to surrender. We must do something soon."

His words must have gotten through to his mother as she did not say anything right away. She sat there and thought as she looked out over the Summer Sea in the direction his eldest was lifting up and down out of the water one of the youngest babies in the castle. How he wished his mother could truly see this moment. Obara would make a wonderful mother one day soon.

The sun had moved a great distance before Quentyn decided to leave his mother to enjoy her time watching her family play. She was obviously angry with him for what he had said, and he would get nothing else from her this day.

It would not be until supper that Obara brought him the news that Mariya Martell had died sitting out there. He was now Prince of Dorne and could begin implementing his own idea to strengthen Dorne. The only problem was he could not get a question out of his head. Had she died before or after he berated her on her uselessness?

Nice to see our first taste of Dorne the defiant. Let's see how Quentyn fares in his quest to ensure the stability of his kingdom against the combined strength of the rest of the Seven Kingdoms.

Also, interesting to see some of the players shuffling around a bit. Glad to hear no one's been dropped

Prologue (1 to 12 AL)​

"You will do as I say!" Edmyn Tully bellowed. Melwys' courage quickly turned into fear. He was but a boy of six, and his father had always instilled a slight fear into him. Melwys turned his gaze down and cowered his intentions. "Yes, father." he replied. And so it's time to say goodbye, he thought. He ran off, hardly blocking his tears from falling.



Melwys went off to see his younger brother, Mathis. He found him being scolded by a septa, with a torn apart doll in his hands. "And you will beg for your little sister's forgiveness, you grumkin!", she said to him, she then noticed Melwys' presence and the dried tears of his cheeks. "Oh, m'lord." she said as she approached Melwys, "There was no convincing your father, was there? Well then, I'll leave you and your brother alone." she pinched Melwys in the cheek and left the room.

Mathis' face grew with a certain fear. "You're only here to complain about my bad behavior right? That's what dad told you to do?" he said. Melwys shook his head, "No, Mat. I'm leaving later today." he ushered. Mathis' eyes soon filled with tears. "You can't!" he screamed. "We're brothers! We're supposed to stay together!" he said.

Melwys knew he had to put on the big brother act, it wasn't easy to avoid joining in his brother's crying. I'd love to spout how unfair it is, but what good will it do?, he thought. "Don't worry Mat, I'm going to a place filled with many brave knights. They'll teach me how to be strong and brave like them. I'll be fine." he said, he hugged his little brother tightly and held his tears in. "When we're older, we'll defend the Riverlands together." he whispered into his ear. Melwys broke the hug and went off to the doorway. "I have to see Nolla too, we'll wave goodbye when I'm in the carriage. Be there, Mat." he told Mathis before smiling and leaving.

The goodbye with Nolla was not as powerful, she had only seen three namedays. She didn't quite grasp the extent of the goodbye until she saw the carriage during the afternoon. Melwys hopped inside along with his father, before closing the door, Edmyn Tully told his son to give a long last look their mansion of Riverrun. "This is what you will one day defend, son. Your home is Riverrun and your family is the Tullys, let no man and no dragon tell you otherwise." Edmyn said, he then closed the door and the horses started the long walk to Storm's End.

"Melwys, your mentor will be Orys Baratheon. An extremely talented bastard that was bestowed the Stormlands by Aegon and is also his right hand. Wether we like it or not, Aegon is our king and he gave us the Riverlands. We must not balk in our loyalty to him, you are the proof of our loyalty. The Baratheon is a good knight, just and brave, obey him and learn from him for he has much to teach. ". Edmyn's words had only slightly soothed Melwys' wavering mind. Melwys nodded, "Yes, father." he responded, then kept on looking outside the carriage, the forests, great rivers and small streams of the Riverlands already made him feel homesick.

As days passed, the forests turned into plains, at times hilly. Soon after, the mountains and lush tall forests of the Stormlands were distinguishable. "The trees here aren't like in Riverrun, father." Melwys commented. "That is so, Melwys." Edmyn replied, his mind was on other places. "Melwys, I've decided to betroth you to Morra Stark, daughter of Torrhen." he said. Melwys felt a surge questions come up to his mind. "Stark? Of the North?" He asked. "Yes, Tullys and Starks have always been friends to each other. Our cultures may differ, but we depend on each other in certain ways. The Starks need our foodstuff in long winters, and we need their bannermen in dire situations." Edmyn replied nonchalantly. "At least, I've been told it's been so once, before the ironborn came. Yet they never came to save us from the reavers. It seems Torrhen is a bit of a coward." he continued with a slightly bored tone. "But the alliance with him will be useful. We need to cement our position in the new court of Aegonsfort, your wardship with Orys is one step and your marriage to Morra is the other.", he ended his discourse there, seeing that Melwys' stare had drifted off to the outside again.

The arrival at Storm's End was a relief for Melwys, the travel weared him down much. His father had left him in the carriage to talk with some of the men in the castle. He soon came back, "Come, Melwys. You must meet Orys Baratheon.". Melwys did not leave his father's side at any moment in the short walk to the castle's main hall. There, a man of hulking size was talking with his subjects. His hair was a silvery white and he towered above all those who surrounded him.

Edmyn approached him and said "Hand of the King Orys Baratheon. Here is my son, Melwys Tully.". Orys looked away from his conversation partner and looked towards Edmyn and Melwys, "Ah, lord Edmyn, pardon my lack of manners." he approached the boy slowly and crouched besides him. "I am honored to meet the heir of the Riverlands. My name is Orys Baratheon and I am Hand of the King and lord of the Stormlands." he said.
Melwys gathered up his courage and replied, "I am Melwys Tully, son of Edmyn Tully and heir to Riverrun and the Riverlands." he stared at Orys, waiting for him to say something else. But Orys did not oblige. He simply looked at the child with an intense gaze. Edmyn cleared his throat. "Ah, pardon me yet again, lord Tully. I was seeing if your child had promise. He did not balk in his stare, fueled by his curiosity. I can see the makings of a knight in him." Orys explained to the somewhat angered Edmyn. "I thank you for the honor of squiring your son, I shall take great care of him and make sure he grows to be a great heir to the Riverlands."

And with that, Melwys' training had begun. Edmyn's leave had him in bad moods for the first few days, but the boy was quickly entranced as he saw the many knights training in the yard. Weeks turned into months, and months into years. A routine had been established and courtly matters were left to others to look into. Melwys had grown fond of Orys' training, he'd met many boys eager to train under the great knight and he'd recieved the blushed stares of a few girls of the court. Melwys was slowly becoming a man, until the day of his twelfth nameday.



A raven had come late into the afternoon, while Melwys was polishing Orys' armor and sword. More news about some courtly politics, Melwys thought during the dullness of his work. Not too late after that, Orys entered the room where he was staying. "Mel.", the man said. "Lord Orys." Melwys replied, "Is something the matter? I am just finishing with your suit of armor.", he said as he went back to his work. Orys approached him and put a hand on his shoulder. "I have grave news, Mel." he said. The boy froze, he felt his body shaking a little bit. Orys talking about grave news? Oh Seven, please do not let this be... Orys crouched besides Melwys. "Mel, your father's illness took a very wrong turn, he... I fear that I must inform you that he's died."

Melwys dropped all work he had in his hands. "My father... Edmyn..." he muttered, "But they said it was just a nasty cold. Lord Orys, you misinterpreted. My father has hardly seen thirty namedays." Orys shook his head, "I'm sorry Melwys, the Riverlands have need of you, you have to go back." he finished.

Melwys took a few minutes to take the news in his young heart. Mathis and Nolla, they must have need of my presence, he remembered. "You are right my lord, my siblings will need me for the years to come. I must go back to them, if it does not give you offense." he told Orys with the simple grace of young man.

Orys sighed, "So it must be. It pains me to have you leave, I would've liked to see you grow further more. Your departure will also make many of the young girls in Storm's End sad. But the Seven do not seem complacent."

"No." said Melwys. "The Seven were never ones to favor the Tullys."



Melwys' comeback had gone swiftly. There he saw his brother Mathis and his sister Nolla after many years apart. The welcome feast was lavish and the three siblings talked of what had happened to each in the past years. Melwys saw and heard that Mathis was becoming as much of a man as him in the physical sense, but he also saw that Mathis had grown very intelligent. He knew many matters of coin and learned the ways of courtly intrigue. "All thanks to lord Frey." he said as he looked at his cup of wine. "He's given me much good advice, and he's told me to recommend him as your new tutor. They say many terrible things about his family, but he is a knowledgeable knight, not only in matters of warfare, but also in matters of ruling the land. Something we will both need, brother."

Melwys did not give it much thought, Mathis' recommendation sounded quite good, and they did not have a Tully uncle or grandfather to honor with their squiring. Melwys nodded, and turned his attention to his sister. She had become a normal girl, gossiping and shyly looking at some of the knights around the tables. They had not shared many words, but there was time for that later.

It seems there was not much surprise to the news of father's death, Melwys thought. Edmyn had apparently become half-crazed in one of the stages of his sickness, refusing to take any medicine. Nolla was taken away from his side by mother, and Mathis was with the Freys for the entire duration of the sickness. It all seemed like a dreadful plan of intrigue, but Melwys refused to believe it. Much points towards the Freys, I'll have to try to keep an eye on their activites as I spend my last squiring years with them.

The next years were spent under the tutoring of the Freys. Training and studying together developed a strong bond between the two brothers. The Frey lord was not the most able of knights, but he was just and wise. Melwys learned a fair amount of knowledge from him, never seeing a hint of betrayal or desire for control in his actions. His duties as Lord Paramount called, and he went back to Riverrun after his knighting at his sixteenth nameday. He married Morra Stark, an unruly girl with no desire for the simple life of a wife and mother, but such things would change, given time. Melwys did find a certain pleasure in the fact that his wife enjoyed doing tasks more directed to men, others would've nagged and complained where she gave a bright smile and laughed.



And thus, Melwys and Mathis took the reins of the Riverlands where their father had left them. Somewhat afraid, yet curious of what the game of thrones mentioned by the Freys would bring to them.

Whoops, my mistake. Correction to my second post: the Stark daughter that was the cruel torturess IS this Morra Stark. My bad, correction made.

Nice work, cosme. I like your future ideas for the Tullys.

One monitor quibble- Melwys probably would have spent more time in KL than Storm's End since Orys was needed in the capital often. It's not a big deal, however.

The simple golden circlet she wore still felt odd on her head. Such a simple piece of metal, but it signified so much. The strength of Dorne. The power of Dorne. The resilience of Dorne. Almost as importantly that she was now the Princess of Dorne. All of these things weighed on her head.


Her father had only been in the ground a little less than three months now. Some days thinking of him brought tears to her eyes still. Those last few years, ever since the war, something had changed in him. He was no longer that happy man who used to take her swimming or riding horses. He never had that gleam in his eyes when he looked at her. That look that said he loved her more than anything else in this world and always would.

Both were gone and now she sat in Sunspear as the leader of the only people who had not fallen under the Targaryen whip. She ruled the only true free people left in Westeros. A great and difficult task for any person, even more so for her as she was only twenty-two years old with 3 brothers all of whom some nobles thought would make a better Prince of Dorne then she made a Princess.

Her father did not have these troubles when it was his time to take the mantle of Prince of Dorne with the death of his own mother. No, his brother was dead in the ground a year past when he was crowned. On top of that he was already well established and had commanded the military during the Targaryen invasion. These things allowed his transition from Heir to Prince as seamless as possible. There was also the fact that Quentyn had fifty-two years as heir in which to further his standing as the future Prince of Dorne. She had less than two years since her father's reign was so short.

Prince Quentyn had tried to further his standing among the Great Houses of Westeros, but was unable to achieve any great success in this enterprise. None of the other houses wished to form any kind of union with his lesser or children, nor would they likely have agreed to any union with herself if she had not already been married. Her father knew that allies was the key to truly standing against the Targaryen's, but he did not seem to comprehend that other men and women did not wish to anger their new Lords by so openly making alliances with Dorne. The stress of this most likely was what sent him to such an early grave. Grandmother had lived through so much and nearly ruled longer than her father had lived. Father took everything so seriously those past few years and stressed himself into an early grave.

It was then that word had come from Ghost Hill. Thieves. Raiders. Pirates. The Tyrosh had begun raiding along their coast. Already close to two hundred men, women, and children had been taken. Any person over the age of thirty was simply killed and left to rot in the hot Dornish sun.


Every noble seemed to want to do something different in response to this act of aggression. Lady Senelle Blackmont didn't care about the raids, so thought local officials should protect their own people and lands. No reason to waste the kingdom's funds and men on such an affair. The Lord Fyron Uller and Lady Alyse Ladybright both thought that volunteer forces should be formed to patrol along the coasts. Then the Lord Bors Spottswood called for the immediate invasion of Tyrosh to make them pay for what they were doing.

The closer their lands got to the eastern coast, the harsher the call for action and retribution. These men who called for the invasion were not even the worse in the group. No, it was the men and women who thought it should be her husband and chief advisor, Perros, who should be making the decision on the matter, not her. Or one person, who she never found out who, demanded that her brother Lewyn be made the new Prince of Dorne in this time of crisis. Thankfully, this call fell on deaf ears.

Nevertheless, no decision could be agreed upon. Her father and grandmother would have simply told people what their response would be and they would do it. She did not have that luxury. The Tyrosh were attacking now because with her father's death, Dorne was in a state of weakness as the nobles tried to assert more power and influence over the land.

This stalled meeting of Lords and Ladies, went on day in and day out. Nobody was willing to back down, and there was absolutely no talk of any form or even a notion of a compromise. It was infuriating to her.

Then after almost three weeks of nothing happening, she was approached by the Lords Lyreon Dayne, Aron of Grestoke, and Caleotte Fowler. Lord Lyreon was obviously the leader of this group as he bowed before her. "Princess Obara, our lands have been plagued by the Tyroshi for a month now. Hundreds of our people have been taken away and hundreds more have found an end to their days. It is not my place, but I must ask. Why do you not send aid? Why have you forsaken your people? Why do you sit and listen to fools talk instead of take action?"

Looking down Lord Dayne, Obara expected him to turn away or show some signs of guilt for what he said to his Princess. He didn't. No, he just stared at her with those violet eyes of his. It was rather unsettling. Those eyes just had a way of capturing a person. Maybe it was just her. She didn't know, but she was happy to just keep looking into them.

"Princess Obara," suddenly broke her away from what must have appeared as a starring match between herself and Lord Lyreon. It had been Lord Caleotte who spoke she realized when he stepped up beside Lord Dayne. "I have just over a thousand ready body men in Plankytown. If you will allow us, we can begin hunting down those pirates who are stealing our people."

"Please Princess," came the near whimpering voice of Lord Aron. He was the least surprising Lord in the group. Three of the recen raids had been conducted on his villages. The man had to do something or else suffer the wrath and ire of the people in his lands. Could the same not be said about her? Yes, it was Lord Aron's villages which were attacked, but they were all her villages. Should she not put the same effort to protect her own people?

"You three will leave tonight to Plankytown where you will meet up with Caleotte's thousand men. I will send an additional two thousand of my own personal guard to assist you as well as the ships needed to properly pursue these men who have brought war to our shores."

"Yes, Princess," the three said in near perfect unison with smiles on their faces. With their goal achieved, the three made their way away from her in discussion on their coarse of action. The entire time, Obara watched them and was not surprised when Lyreon Dayne turned around to grace her with a smile before he was gone from sight. Oddly enough the crown seemed to weight a little less now on her brow.

"Your brother appears to be quite the erudite young man, m'lord," Addam remarked as he rolled up the message that had been delivered from King's Landing, "Were he not squiring for His Grace, I might dare say he could prosper at the Citadel." The maester of Highgarden gave Gyles his best smile, though it seemed to be for not. Ever since word had arrived from the Eyrie about the marriage of his sister, Gyles had been inconsolable, embittered at being outmanoeuvred in his scheme for revenge against the old fool of Snakewood. "And your sister Falia is learning well from her aunt in Manderford the duties natural to a lady," the maester continued, "Surely she shall be a boon to her lord husband in managing her household."

As Addam prattled on, praising how flawlessly the marriage of Valiete and Ronnel had proceeded, Gyles' thoughts drifted elsewhere. For months, he had been in the yards, training with his master-at-arms, practicing to ensure that the shameful showing at Storm's End would not be repeated. Through Lord Moryn's stern instruction, Gyles had sharpened his skills, and now was looking for a chance to prove his worth to the lords of the Reach and beyond. The Reach was renowned as a land of chivalry, where the finest knights were bred and the most elaborate tourneys held. As House Tyrell had only been raised up to supremacy within the last generation, Gyles knew that a continued failure at the lists may well bring up the question of whether or not he was worthy to be Lord Paramount.

How fortuitous it was that his maester happened to remark, casting Gyles out of his musings, "Ah… and there happens to be a message from Lord Alekyne of Oakenshield. It appears that Lord Hewett intends to hold a tourney in a few months' time."

Rising up from his throne, Gyles looked down to Addam as if to confirm just what he had said. After that brief pause, he turned to regard one of his servants, ordering, "See to it that my horse and armour are ready." And then, to the maester, he stated, "Inform Lord Hewett that I shall be in attendance for his tourney." Without another word, Gyles soon departed from the hall, summoning for Lord Moryn so that he might practice more for the weeks ahead.

The journey to Oakenshield was but a short one, sailing down the Mander and out into the Sunset Sea, where Oakenshield Castle's green roofed towers rose proudly above the humble harbour of the island. A small clearing outside of the stout castle walls had been prepared for the lists, and many of the fisher folk from the Shield Isles had gathered to Oakenshield when word spread that Lord Tyrell was to participate in this local tourney, knowing surely that Lord Hewett would spare no expense to impress his liege lord. Their hopes would be proven true, with Lord Alekyne sparing no expense in ensuring a bountiful feast for his audience, bringing much of the produce of the Reach to the poor fisher folk isle.

Remembering well Lord Moryn's instruction, Gyles passed through the first days of the tourney with ease, unhorsing a number of hedgeknights and men of lesser repute, including Ser Arthur, his uncle's master-at-arms in Manderford. It was only in the final jousts of the tourney that Lord Tyrell faced any great competition, notably in the form of Ser Garth of Southshield, a hedgeknight who had the honour of being master-at-arms for House Serry. Both clad in austere maille, it was there that the differences ended. While Lord Tyrell sought to make himself out to be a warrior, he still had the appearance of a steward's son, tall and lanky, more erudite than martial. Ser Garth, on the other hand, was a soldier through and through, with a reputation for great bravery and stern discipline that had gained him House Serry's respect.

At the command of the tourney herald, their horses thundered down the lists, and then, with a great clash, the knights landed their blows. Ser Garth's training was evident, nearly knocking Lord Tyrell from his mount. Determined to not fail again, Gyles struggled with all his might, barely managing to keep his mount, much to the astonishment of the fisher folk. Reeling his horse around, Lord Tyrell recovered, and at the herald's mark, the two knights soon rode hard down the lists, with Ser Garth again showing his prowess at arms while Gyles' lance skimmed harmlessly off the plate of the hedgeknight's armour. By now, the fisher folk were cheering Ser Garth's name, lighting within Lord Tyrell a burning fury.

The third tilt proceeded little better than the last, for while Lord Tyrell managed to land a passable blow upon the hedgeknight, Ser Garth struck Gyles with yet another solid blow. For a fourth time, the two knights rode hard down the lists, and this time, Lord Tyrell acquitted himself well, striking Ser Garth firmly, with both lances shattering upon impact. Yet, not all was well. By the time he reached the other end of the lists, Lord Tyrell was struck with a sudden shock of pain, and glancing down to his maille, he noticed how dented his armour had become, pushing well into his gambeson. Though overcome with pain, hissing at the sting of what surely was bleeding beneath the steel, Gyles called for another lance, readying himself for the fifth tilt.

Tiring from the constant riding, Ser Garth's blows soon lost their masterful aim, all while Lord Tyrell's own centred more and more upon the hedgeknight's armour with Gyles' determination for victory. Little by little, the fisher folk's chants quieted, and soon a cry went out for Tyrell and the Lord of Highgarden. Finally, in what some said was surely a sign of the Faith's approval, Gyles' lance shattered upon the seventh tilt, and Ser Garth was thrown from his saddle. After besting Ser Garth, Lord Tyrell's victory over the other finalist, a local hedgeknight by the name of Ser Axell, was a brief affair, and much to his pleasure, Gyles was named the victor of the tourney, drowned in the praise of the fisher folk.

When Lord Tyrell returned to Highgarden, it was evident that the victory had changed his once dour mood, even as he recovered from his grievous wound gained during the joust. Yet, the Seven would not smile upon Gyles for long. Mere months after the tourney of Oakenshield, it appeared that word of Lord Tyrell's victory had been eclipsed by the rumours of his sister's talented stewardship. Though she had been betrothed to the Lord Reaper of Pyke for some time now, this seems to have not deterred the ambitions of several men, who sought to steal Lady Falia away in the fashion of the Wildlings, taking her as their bride by subterfuge. Worse yet, there was evidence that the aged Lord Olymer Chester was embittered over years of being shunned by the lords of Highgarden, and sought to claim Gyles' ear by murdering Lord Tyrell's grandmother, who kept Gyles appraised of such intrigue. The sudden outpouring of intrigue vexed Lord Tyrell greatly, moving him to anger.

Gyles' reaction was as swift as it was brutal. All those who had schemed against House Tyrell soon found Gyles' bannermen at their castles, arrested in the name of the High Marshal of the Reach and delivered to the dungeons of Highgarden. Only those outside of the reach of the Warden of the South, notably a few Valemen, managed to escape the Lord Paramount's justice. It was Lord Olymer that earned Gyles' ire the most, however, for while Lord Tyrell was a cynical fellow, he held his kin close in his heart. Mere days after being delivered to a cell in Highgarden, the aged Lord of Greenshield called for justice, claiming that his son would stand for him in a trial by combat. Though Ser Edwyn's prowess was legendary, Gyles acknowledged the request, mocking Lord Chester that both father and son would share the same fate, then.

As fortune would have it, Ser Edwyn did not hold his father in as high repute as Lord Olymer had hoped, and thus it came that Lord Olymer was forced to a trial before the court instead. Trembling before the court, Lord Chester pled innocence, begging for mercy and clemency. Such protests would fall upon deaf ears, however, as Lord Banfred Hightower argued in his booming voice about the evidence that had been found, including the confession of a cutthroat who had been paid to end Lady Ambrosia's life. In the end, Lord Olymer suffered the same fate as those who sought to steal Lady Falia, exiled to serve the Night's Watch upon the Wall, and thus it was that Greenshield passed to Ser Edwyn. Yet, there remained one final intrigue that Lord Tyrell would have to deal with…

"My lord," Banfred announced in his thunderous voice, "A messenger from Rain House has arrived to speak with you in regards to your betrothal to Lord Quentyn's daughter." With that, the imposing figure of Lord Hightower bowed. As he rose back up, Lord Banfred furrowed his brow, and with concern, he asked, "Is aught well, my lord?"

Scowling at his castellan, Gyles snapped back, "Yes, my Lord of Hightower. Now send them in." With a frustrated sigh, the Lord of Highgarden rolled his eyes, waiting for Lord Hightower to send the men of the Rainwood in. His betrothal to Rhea Wylde had been a tenuous thing, nearly broken after his father had passed away, for Lord Wylde was uncertain if he could trust the new High Marshal of the Reach. It would be this meeting that would determine it for good.

"My grandson…" a quiet voice came from his right. Gyles managed a faint smile as he looked to his grandmother, who hesitantly drew nearer. "I bring… ill tidings…" Ambrosia fearfully noted, chewing at her lip as she considered how to best word this, "Lord Florent…" Gyles immediately felt his heart seize up with a fury at the mention of Garth Florent, a man who had always served to undermine House Tyrell's prestige, but his grandmother continued, "He seeks to prove that our house is unworthy of being House Gardener's heirs." Immediately, like lightning, a sharp pain coursed through Gyles' body. With a gasp, a groan, Lord Tyrell gazed helplessly at his grandmother, an expression of confusion and anger frozen on his face. He tried to stretch out, but could not lift his arm. With one final sigh, Gyles fell forward, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

Well shit, House Tyrell just can't catch a break. Here's hoping that Lord Paramount Owen is a bit more well adjusted. Speaking of which, how is the new Lord Paramount's stats?

Wow the Tyrells are down on their luck at present is Owen better then Gyles?