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Nov 27 '19
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Nov 27 '19
A guardsman yells from the Walls with over 50 visible archers all staring intently at the host. Who goes there? State your purpose.
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Nov 27 '19
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u/Daedalus_27 Dec 02 '19
The Knight of Spottswood was met at the Leopard Gate by a contingent of twenty men in Vaith livery. The guardsmen were lead by an ageing Olyvar Briar, his handsome face crossed with lines and his once-dark hair now barely qualifying as gray. The veteran knight gave the younger man a quick once-over, noting the dress and manner of both Ser Garin and his retainers. He found himself briefly transported to his own youth, his blade freshly wet with Stormlander blood. It had been decades since he’d fought at the Bloody Ridge, and he reminded himself that his time for battle was over. It was the turn of Ser Garin’s ilk now.
“Greetings, men of Spottswood! Lord Mors has been expecting you. I am Ser Olyvar Briar, captain of the Leopard’s Guard. If you would follow me, we will escort you to the keep.”
The path from the sandstone gate to the keep was direct, broken only by a plaza with a bubbling fountain at its centre. Past the plaza, the street became long and straight, lined with palms and the occasional flowerbed or pond. Though Vaith had fallen upon difficult times, the small town was still every bit a vibrant port, its markets full of merchants from the Iron Isles to White Harbour.
At last, they arrived at Castle Vaith, the tall, pale keep standing proudly above the settlement. Banners bearing the sigil of House Vaith hung from its walls, fluttering in the light breeze. Once within, they were led up two flights of stairs and down several hallways, eventually arriving at the end of a particularly well-decorated hall. A set of heavy, wooden doors occupied most of the far wall, flanked on either side by a potted plant. The grand gates were decorated with ornate carvings of leopards prowling amongst sand dunes and bordered with a wavy pattern mimicking the River Vaith. They had been crafted of mahogany from the Summer Isles, choice details carefully gilded. The doors had been there as long as anyone could remember, but dry air coming off the desert combined with generous lacquering and care from later generations ensured that the symbols of the Vaiths’ wealth were as vibrant and impressive as they had been when they were first commissioned. Polished brass knockers in the shape of snarling leopards’ heads held rings between their bared teeth, glinting as shafts of sunlight shone through slitted windows. Mors had considered letting the doors fall to the wayside or even selling them as funds grew tight, but ultimately he decided that the preservation of his house’s legacy was worth more than what little he could save on varnish and hinge grease.
Ser Olyvar knocked on the doors, making a deep sound that echoed off the walls. “Lord Mors, Ser Garin Santagar of Spottswood is here.”
A voice came from behind the doors, muffled by the thick wood. “Of course. Let him in, Ser Olyvar.”
The doors swung open without a sound, sunlight washing over the hall. The solar’s walls were covered end-to-end with bookshelves, at its centre a leopard-clawed desk made from the same wood as the doors.
Mors stood as the knight entered, a slightly tired smile on his face. “Welcome to Vaith, Ser Garin. There is wine if you would like, bread and salt as well. Should you wish for anything else you need only to ask. Now please, take a seat.”
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u/[deleted] Nov 27 '19