Ch. 2 - Autumn Harvest

Drezielle
§

Zel rode towards Highgarden, getting to travel for the first time in weeks at the speeds she was accustomed to. She thought as she went about her abandoned post, how she would have to send in a resignation and make it formal. She thought of how she had decided she would follow Florie, risk losing absolutely everything in order to have a place in the world. Maybe it was madness, but her course was set now. The caterpillars she carried carefully with her in the sack Cyril had prepared were testament to that. So Zel found a promising town called Greenvale and went to the bakery to start asking questions about granaries. It occurred to her that she really didn't have the faintest idea what one even looked like, so when the baker pointed her towards the Master of the Stores, she decided the first thing she must do would be to make a visit.

At the house, she was greeted by a dour woman who said that the master was not up yet and that Zel would have to wait. She gave the woman a false name and settled into the dark parlor she was led to. At last, the woman came out, and said, "The master will see you, but he does not know your name."

"Why, didn't you tell him?" Zel asked with a smirk, and the woman gave a huff and showed her to another room. Greenvale's Master of Stores was a big man, and seemed to be constantly trying to suck something out from between his teeth. Zel made up a story about her own master being a retired soldier in King's Landing who was looking to move to the south to be a miller. Zel had been sent, she said, to check on the quality and supplies of grain. The man bought her story, and made her wait while he got dressed, which ate into more of the morning. When he emerged, he looked like all the trends in fashion had been mashed together out of Free Cities brocades and lace. He had a wig, and he could hardly move. The stiff cloth and his own fat made for interesting difficulties, and Zel tried not to laugh.

Her mirth died down, though, when they approached the granary. It was a large one, and its size meant it was well-defended. The walls were high, and made of stone. Guards were posted around, and she realized that to sneak into a granary of the size they wanted would not go well for her. Nonetheless, she decided to learn what she could, to move on and try somewhere else. The large beehive-shaped towers of grain were nearly full, something the master was very proud of. Even without ample notice of approaching winter, Highgarden would have quite a lot to work with. That made her mission all the more vital. She spoke about her master's business as they toured and left Greenvale with a better idea of what she needed to do. Buying, selling, and tithing would get grain in and out of the granaries, and Zel would never have to set foot in them. Heartened by this, she rode to the next town, rented a cart, and bought a load of grain. She fed the worms in the sack and transferred some of them to one of her boxes of grain. She bred them as she went, stopping closer and closer to Highgarden, and trading grain as she went, sending in caterpillar-infested boxes of grain, buying more, and starting the process new.

Zel hadn't expected the men at the gates of Highgarden to ask what she carried in the sack, but she put on her most cheerful country bumpkin smile and said "Worms! Bought 'em off a gypsy what said they'd be good in a stew!" The guard looked a little ill and waved her on. Once in the city, Zel got rid of the rest of her grain as a tithe, and took the last of her worms to the industrial districts. Cyril had said they would eat other things too, cloth and leather, and certainly an infection in the city would help. The warehouses would be guarded too, but Zel found a likely one and went into the alley where there were windows and perhaps even small gaps in the wood, and set the open bag where it would not get stepped on. There was refuse there for them to feed on, and with any luck, they would spread from there. Task accomplished, Zel headed for Blackbane.

Tobias
§

Toby woke up with Florie snuggled against him. Not just Florie, he thought, but his wife. He should have been tired, but he was elated, and even more so when her eyes fluttered open and she smiled at him. He knew it was time to leave her room, so nobody would see that they had been together, but he waited a bit, not wanting to leave now that at last, he was with her. He waited long enough that apparently the maester was anxious they would be found out, because Cyril was suddenly knocking on Florie's door and saying pointedly that Toby wished to speak to her and would be waiting in the sept. Toby kissed Florie once more, then hurried to get dressed. The next few days passed much the same. During the days, they dealt with business of the house. Florie sent off a letter to Lord Florent, explaining their plans for Highgarden and the need for action in Duskendale. They got the house in order for Garon's return, and let things settle. The nights, they spent together, with Cyril helping to make sure the household was none the wiser. For those few days, they were happy newlyweds.

The tone of everything changed dramatically when Lord Felsward came back, victorious. He was in a good mood, and picked Florie up like she was a little girl, and inquired about how everything had gone in his absence. He wasn't exactly pleased when he learned of the trip to Highgarden, but he let it go, and cheerfully got everyone settled in for a victory feast. Tobias had been busy making sure everything was ready, and he hadn't gotten to talk much to Florie. Now that they were surrounded by people, they could only sit close to one another and exchange bits of small talk and uncomfortable looks. Despite their certainty about the secret marriage, neither had any idea how they were going to keep it up. And then Toby noticed something. There was a man sitting next to Lord Garon. A man who was not from Blackbane. He saw that Florie noticed the same, and even Cyril, and anxiety knotted his stomach. He knew what this meant, and when Garon stood to toast his victory, and Jonys's marriage, and then went on to say there was more happy news, Toby tried not to look ashen. Garon said he had made his daughter a match, and that she would be wed to Ser Osgrey Meriweather of Longtable. Florie let her father draw her to her feet with a frozen smile on her face, and Toby could do nothing but watch as Garon put his daughter's hand in Ser Osgrey's. Then Florie swooned, out of sheer stress, or perhaps by design. Toby couldn't tell, and though he surged from his seat, it was Garon who caught her.

The next few days, Toby tried to be patient. He knew that Florie was helpless at the moment, that keeping their marriage secret was vitally important, but it still grated at him that Osgrey never left her side. He was not an old man, not exactly, but he was showing signs of age, and that was irritating too. Occasionally, though he knew better, Toby crept after them as he walked, anger bubbling up whenever Osgrey so much as touched her hand. One day, the two went walking in the orchards. Toby saw them, a ways away. He couldn't tell what they were talking about, and all curiosity about that vanished when he saw Osgrey pull Florie to him and tug her chin up so he could kiss her. Another man kissing his wife was more than Toby could bear, and before he could think better of his actions, he picked up a rock and hurled it at the back of Osgrey's head. The improvised missile met its target, and Toby flung himself behind a tree. He heard Osgrey yelling angrily, and coming closer. So Toby took off running, trusting his youth to give him speed that the older knight wouldn't have. He found a place to hide and waited a bit, then circled back to the hall.

Without catching his breath, he hurried to Cyril's room, flinging himself in and explaining what he had just done.

Cyril
§

Cyril wished he knew what to say to help Tobias, but the precariousness of their situation did seem at times to be overwhelming. He didn't blame the knight for his anger, though it would certainly be easy if Toby learned to keep his wrath in check. He was mostly intent on calming the knight down so that nobody would see just how agitated he was. Then there was a pounding on his door, and a servant calling his name. "Come quickly," the boy said. "It's Lady Vallya!" Knowing enough now to fear worse than another attack of illness, Cyril hurried towards the lady's room with Toby in tow. He turned a corner and there were Ser Osgrey and Florie, who were both taken aback by the urgency in the maester's features. Cyril told Florie it was her mother, and Florie hurried after.

Even with all that had passed before, Cyril was not prepared for what awaited them in Lady Vallya's chambers. Vallya had that mad, impassioned look in her eyes that they'd come to associate with her more frightful behavior, and her gowns were not all in place, baring a little too much of her skin. Before her, she had Holly Greyfell, and the nurse had been strung up to the bedposts with sheets. She was almost entirely naked, her clothing in tatters, and she was bleeding in places. She had been gagged with something frilly, and a sheet around her neck kept her head up and had her nearly choking. Vallya had a delicate but very sharp little knife in her hand, and she turned, irritated, to see who was intruding. Cyril could only stare for a moment. "Lady Vallya..."

"Maester," she said, her eyes lighting a little. "Maybe you can help me deal with this."

"Perhaps I can," Cyril said carefully, edging closer and making sure Tobias was with him. Vallya started talking about betrayal, and how Holly needed to be interrogated, and Cyril feigned compliance so that he could get close, and so that he could take the attention off of Toby so that he could get behind her. Vallya's apparent madness made her inattentive, and Cyril made a show of inspecting Holly to find out how to make her talk more effectively, and at last Tobias had a chance to grab Vallya from behind, pinning her arms to her sides. Cyril cut Holly loose, and hurried over to Vallya. It took three of them-- Toby, Cyril, and Osgrey-- to force the lady's mouth open and drip milk of poppy down her throat. They held her still until she was subdued, and got her to the bed. Florie was crouched next to Holly, murmuring soothing things to her, helping get her more covered up. Then Lord Garon arrived, hurrying over to see what was going on. Florie pulled him aside, out into the little garden beside her mother's room, and Cyril heard their voices, but not what was said. He also didn't miss the way Tobias and Osgrey were eyeing each other, like two wolves from rival packs, not quite ready to fight, but waiting for a reason.

Cyril was considering finding a way to intervene, but then Garon emerged with Florie behind him, her eyes cast down. Garon strode up to Cyril and began questioning him about the medications he had given, questioning his methods, and then biting out that the maester now answered only to him in regards to what was given to his wife and son. Taken aback by the implicit accusations, Cyril managed agreements, then watched Garon clap Tobias on the shoulder and lead him out of the room. Osgrey guided Florie out, and Cyril was left to tend to Holly and Vallya.

Later on that night, Toby came to see him again, and Zel came by too. Toby looked a little pale, and said that Lord Felsward had tried to gift Tynker Tower and the accompanying lordhood to him, and that he had tried to refuse, but that his refusal didn't seem to be taken seriously. They couldn't talk much, though, before Jonys burst in, complaining about his own fortunes, about his sister having to marry that old man, and insisting that they all go and get drunk. Cyril sighed. He could tell already it was going to be a long night.

Florie
§

Florie knew that Osgrey had hoped the stress would make her vulnerable and more amiable to his attentions. She knew that he hoped he could get her into bed while he was here, and had worked to maintain an even more chaste image than usual. So when he led her away from her mother's room with his arm around her, she said that she was unsettled by these things and would like to rest. He took her to her room with a pleased little smile that she detested, and she said to pardon her, but she would like to be alone. She was a perfect lady in her dismissal, and at last she shut the door and had some time to herself. She wanted to talk to her friends, but she couldn't wander out without her father's chosen suitor finding her and trying to be charming.

Alone with her thoughts, Florie sorted through the mess everything had become. They kept thinking they were doing all right, and then returning to Blackbane only to find their accomplishments diminished. Blackbane made everything seem smaller somehow, worse overall. Then Florie thought of her mother, and went cold. Vallya had cursed the house by killing Colin Florent. The very messenger sent to give her the means to read the message about the secret bloodline. No wonder, Florie thought, that everything seemed so bad now. The boy's blood had seeped into the stones of the place, and nothing would be the same there. The rest of the afternoon, Florie contemplated the paths that had brought them to where they were.

By evening, she had decided she must try to speak with the others. She made sure nobody was outside her room, then moved swiftly to the most likely place-- the maester's room. She had guessed right, for both Toby and Zel were there, and Florie hurried to throw herself into her husband's protective embrace. Then she took a breath and started talking. She outlined how she felt about the way their house was cursed, and how surely, it was a gods-given sign that they should pursue the Gardener line. Why else, she said, would they know before even the Citadel that winter was coming? Why else would the destructive caterpillars have come into their hands so easily and safely? The Seven meant for it to be so, and they could not sit and let their confidence seep away. The others agreed, but Cyril pursed his lips and said that this meant decisions. He asked what Florie intended to do about it now, with her new engagement, and Tobias's new lordship. Florie didn't know quite what to say. They discussed options, but none of them seemed satisfying, and she promised to think on it, to pray, and to answer tomorrow whether they would flee Blackbane and its curses, or try to make allies of her family. Toby held her close, and asked if Cyril would spare them his room for the night, and sleep in Toby's instead. Florie blushed, but cuddled closer as Cyril and Zel left them alone. Tonight, she desperately needed this comfort.

Ch. 1 - Seeds

Drezielle
§

Zel helped where she could after the jousting. There was a flurry of activity to get Toby safely off the field, and then a while later to get him from the hospital tent back to the Felsward pavilion. He was conscious but senseless, and Zel could see that the pain he was in was overwhelming. At last, the maester deemed it safe enough to drug him to sleep, and there was quiet for a little bit. It didn't last long, though, because after spending some time fretting over Toby, Florie started to talk about how they would have to go to the last celebratory feast of the event. Zel kept silent this time, since she knew there would be no way to keep them out of it.

Cyril, though, said that he was out of certain herbs he needed, and would have to go out to look for them before he could easily rouse Jonys. Florie asked Zel to go with him, and looked over the maester in his robes. "At least one of you should be wearing pants," she muttered to Zel. Zel smirked, and followed Cyril out to the forest. He was collecting willow bark and some sort of fungus that Zel had no interest in identifying. Then he stopped and stared at a tree for a while, while she failed to find anything interesting about it.

"Zel?" Cyril asked, sounding distracted. "Do you think you could climb up this tree?"

"Maybe," she said dubiously. "Why?"

"See that hollow up there? I think it's the nest of a crowned pheasant, but I can't tell from here."

Zel rolled her eyes, but she agreed to try, and so with a bit of help up, she scrambled through the branches of the tree to root around in the nest, describing how it was made, and looking for a black, yellow-tipped feather that he said might be there. She saw a couple, and grabbed one, but in trying to get down the tree, she slipped and sort of fell branch to branch and ended up knocking Cyril down so that they both landed in a heap on the ground. Face scratched and pride wounded, she practically threw his stupid feather at him. Cyril studied the feather with a grave expression, and explained that the pheasants only made nests like these when they sensed that winter was approaching. He said he hadn't recieved word from the Citadel, even though they watched for these things, but this was a sign he trusted.

Zel stared a bit. Winter was no small matter, especially with the plotting Florie had recently engaged in. They finished gathering what Cyril needed, and wandered back to the encampment, where Cyril told Florie what he suspected from the nest. Her face went tight, and she nodded, saying that they had better get their stores in order. But then she went back to planning their evening, once again dragging Zel aside and asking her if she'd rather come as a boy, and be her eyes and ears but less able to communicate with her, or as a lady, where she might overhear things and more easily share them. Finding herself horrified at the idea of putting on a dress, Zel declined as politely as she could, and said she would work as a boy. And so once again, she and Cyril accompanied Florie and her older brother to another lavish party, and while the nobles talked and danced as they were supposed to, she and Cyril got to sit and eat.

Then Zel heard a hissed conversation behind her, and listened more closely. It was a woman's voice she heard, saying, "There's his Hand, will you not speak to him?" She turned to see a man dressed in black and gold, with a dark-skinned woman at his side. She nudged Cyril and directed his attention to them, and as they walked away, he murmured that the two were Lord Denys Darklyn of Duskendale and his Myrish wife, Lady Serala. Nobles wanting conversation with the King's Hand seemed like the sort of thing Florie would want to hear, so as soon as she saw Darklyn follow Tywin down the hallway, she crept along in the shadows nearby. Darklyn got in front of Tywin and forced him to stop, and wanted to speak about port levies. Tywin looked even more irritated, and said that they had already spoken, multiple times, about the matter, and that Duskendale must pay the levies, and would unless the Crown were to change its mind. Then he shoved the lord aside the way a man would with a dog begging for scraps, and strode on.

Florie
§

Florie had tried to soak up every detail she could of Highgarden as she walked through it to the great hall, her mind racing with everything she had to think about. She still did not know how to identify potential allies, or even if any were here. She only knew that right now, she was to all eyes a steadfast subject of the Tyrells. It had to be advantage enough, until she could gain better. She had hardly walked into the hall when Tywin Lannister strode right towards her, and greeted her with a smile on his lips that she could not quite interpret. She greeted him as prettily as she could, for whatever his aim, it was best to be in the good graces of the man who was the King's Hand. Moments after, though, Axel Florent approached, and said that unless Lannister objected, Florie had promised him the first dance. Again, Tywin gave that little smile and said "I make no claim."

Florie couldn't help feeling a little insulted, but she went with Florent, who spoke in low tones to her as they danced. He said that he had heard of both of Toby's triumphs, and that the knight must be brave, but the way he said it made it sound as if that wasn't a good thing. Florie defended Toby, saying that he fought as many would not, for honor. She agreed, though, that he could learn to be more cautious, and Florent said that she hoped that she would take her lessons from a more prudent master. He also asked about her preparations for her brother's marriage, and caught like this, as if she had not only days before gotten the date set, she couldn't help a slightly hysterical laugh. "Ribbons?" She said, and then choked on her next words as he grabbed her arm hard on the next pass and hissed to her that she had best understand the gravity of this event. She schooled her tone, freed herself from his grip, and replied frostily that it was not lost on her, and that she knew how vital it was to be moving into The Arbor. She did, too, but she wondered if Florent understood the growing delicacy of her position, as the only member of her family aware of what was being plotted. He continued, saying that in the coming events they would need to find some way to turn the attentions of King's Landing away from them, a point on which Florie agreed, but wasn't certain how such a thing could even be accomplished.

Florie had a chance afterwards to check in with Zel and Cyril, both of whom she had asked to keep their wits about them and their ears open to gossip. She wasn't disappointed. They recounted a conversation between Lord Darklyn and his exotic wife, Lady Serala. Florie smiled slowly. Duskendale was just a little ways north of King's Landing, and this encounter showed more than a little discontent. Having seen how easily discontent could get ugly, as in Meadowlark, and in Silver Hill, Florie thought that perhaps, all Duskendale needed was a little push. Still, she could not focus too much on this. She had other pleasantries to make, so she made her way over to Lady Olenna and gave apologies again for her mother, and they talked a bit, with Olenna asking if she had any marriage prospects, and teasing her a little cattily about dancing with the married Tywin Lannister. When conversation turned to Toby's victory, Olenna congratulated Florie, but then said she had lost money on those fights. She gave Florie a long look, and said, "I suppose I've learned that one should not bet against the Felswards." Florie just dipped her head and smiled.

She danced a bit more, but her mind was on other things. She was intensely worried for Toby, no matter how much she spoke of his valor, and she could not stop thinking about how much it would take to topple the Tyrells from their seat of power, and to think that for all Florent's certainty, this was no less reckless than any of Toby's fights against strong odds. And yet... Toby had triumphed, against what many thought were insurmountable odds. Florie wondered if, on a much larger scale, she could do the same for the Gardener line. And then she saw Jonys flirting with the Dornish wench again, and she hastened to get her friends to drag him away once more.

Cyril
§

The trip back to Blackbane hall was quiet and somber. Jonys and Vallya had to be drugged still for much of it, and Cyril spent most of his time tending to Ser Tobias, carefully stitching the knight's wounds, changing bandages and keeping infection from setting in. It was good work, though, and Cyril was happy to see his two ill charges no worse for the wear after such a trip, and Toby upright and healing by the time they were back. The first days back in Blackbane were spent getting the household in order again, and resting from the trip. Lord Garon had sent word from Silver Hill that the town had been brought around once more and he would be returning home, victorious. Once things were settled, though, Florie called Cyril, Toby, and Zel to speak with her in The Tomb. The little cell was the safest place to speak in the entire hall, and Cyril had no doubt what they would be discussing. Florie, her eyes lit by the flickering candlelight, laid out their problems one by one. Highgarden was a strong location, and the Tyrells had military might that the Gardners and their supporters might not hope to match. King's Landing would send reinforcements to their faithful bannermen, and once more, Tyrells would have Targaryen support. King's Landing might be distracted by an uprising in Duskendale, but that would have to be pushed somehow. They would also eventually need the support of Florie's family, and her father would have to be brought around somehow. They had started discussing methods when Jonys came in.

"So that's where you all got off to!" He said loudly. "Funny place to be." He had a wineskin on his belt, and had clearly been at his drinking for a while. Before anyone could say anything more, he started talking about how he planned, at his wedding, to gift Tynker Tower to someone. He thought it would be a memorable gesture. He'd like to give it, he said, to someone loyal in service to his family, to someone trusted and liked. He asked for ideas, and Cyril began to tease him towards saying Toby's name, at least partly in jest. Toby didn't seem amused, but Jonys wasn't getting it at any rate, and he soon started to ramble about how he'd like to do something good, if he was doomed like his mother anyhow, and what was wrong with having some fun first? It was clear he was still upset about the Dornish woman, and dissatisfied with Lysette's mismatched eyes, and the more he talked, the redder Florie got, until she could stand no more. She defended the match, and how lucky Jonys was, but he told her to be quiet, because the men were talking. Furious, Florie hissed that she would be in the sept, and stomped off.

Cyril, seeing a turn for the worse in the situation, started trying to talk Jonys down, but the alcohol had him talkative still, and he worried at how his marriage would kill his mother. When Toby didn't agree much with him, Jonys started to look at him with a darker gaze, and said maybe he would give Tynker Tower to Toby after all, and send him away so he wouldn't be around Florie. Cyril saw Toby stiffen as if he'd been struck, and suggested that Jonys sober up and then think about making decisions. Then it was up to Cyril to try and coax Jonys back to bed, which was no small task.

That evening, a traveling caravan begged leave to make camp outside of Blackbane, and Florie allowed it, and then smiled prettily at her friends and said they should go see what it was all about. They went out to wander through the camp, where merchants plied their wares from their carts. Cyril walked beside Florie and Zelto look at some of the wares, and a man with tanned skin and dark hair caught sight of Florie and waved her over, promising to show her something amazing. He picked up a basket and cracked the cover. Inside were a number of caterpillars, writhing over each other. They had long, sily hairs that flowed out of them in autumn colors, so that it looked like fire as they moved. Florie was a little taken aback, which Cyril thought was just as well. He knew what these were, and he wanted them nowhere near the hall and its lands. These were a Free Cities pest, fast-breeding and voracious. They did not live off of many fresh plants, but they would eat almost anything stored-- grain, wool, dried meats-- and leave nothing in their wake. Cyril bargained with the man, suddenly intent on having the worms so that he could destroy them. Florie watched with amused patience as Cyril spent far too much money obtaining the entire box, but she grew serious when Cyril explained what they were. He said they would need to be destroyed, and was enlisting Zel's help in making sure nobody had any more here when Florie wandered off with Toby. He didn't know where they went, but he was set on his task, so he took Zel around with him to search out any more of the wretched worms.

He and Zel went to all the camp merchants, and spent a bit of time bantering with a performer, but it was clear soon enough that the basket Cyril held in his hands was all there was. He decided to drown them, to be able to see with certainty that none escaped alive, and that way, they would never be a threat to the stores that must be laid in before winter. He had Zel run for a guard so that they could get a large pot and water. Florie and her knight were still nowhere to be seen.

Tobias
§

Toby wasn't sure he wanted to see the caravan camp. Though his health was much improved, and he was healing well, but he was worried now about what was coming. Especially with the treason that Florie had planned, there would be nothing but danger ahead. Toby didn't fear for himself, but he had to protect Florie. If Jonys did find a way to send him away, he couldn't be at her side any more, couldn't throw himself at whatever dangers threatened her. Even with all these worries weighing on him, though, he went out with the others to the camp, and reluctantly left Florie's side when an old woman called to him. She had him come sit in her cart, saying she would tell his fortune. She reached into a covered basket and pulled out a peeping chick, then with one swift movement broke it's neck. She slit it open and turned it's insides out into a wooden bowl in front of her. She gazed downwards, then dipped one thumb in the cooling blood and touched it to Toby's forehead.

"There are two paths ahead of you," she said. "One long, one short. Both are bloody. The long one... it has love." She squinted at Toby for a bit, coming to some sort of decision for herself. "Choose the love."

Tobias stammered out a thanks, then hastened away to rejoin the group. The fortune had crystallized his thoughts, turned his worries into something else, so that now he knew what he must do. "Florie," he said when he walked up next to her, "can I talk to you?"

She looked up, then looked a little alarmed, her conversation with the maester and Zel forgotten. "You have blood on you," she said, and Toby winced, assuring her it wasn't his and wasn't important, and led her into the shadows a bit where they would have some privacy. He didn't like the worry in her eyes, he hadn't meant to alarm her, not with what he intended to ask. He started talking about how he'd been thinking that when her father chose a husband for her, she would have to marry him. And what if her husband was far away? Florie's eyes dimmed a little at that, and she looked down, agreeing that it would be a problem.

Toby hesitated for just a moment, then stepped in closer. "Marry me, Florie," he said. "Let's elope." She stared, and before she had a chance to speak, he went on, afraid of the next words that would come out of her mouth. "I've always loved you. If you say yes, let's leave tonight. If you say no, I... I'll leave, but..."

"Oh, Toby," she whispered. "Yes."

That shattering step out of the way, Tobias grinned, and took her hands in his. They realized that neither of them had the faintest idea of how to go about it, and that if they had trusted Zel and Cyril this far, they should trust them as witnesses to the wedding. They hurried to find the others and found the two getting ready to drown the box of caterpillars in a vat of water outside the hall gates. Florie held up a hand just before one of the guards put the water in, and she ordered the action halted. They sent the guard away and Florie, clearly nervous, said she had thought about them, and wanted to use the creatures. She wasn't just stalling, Toby saw, she had something in mind. She asked Cyril about what damage they did, and about what killed them. He said drowning and fire he presumed would work as with anything, but that they were susceptible to cold. Florie nodded decisively, and said she wanted to send them to Highgarden. They could not weaken the Tyrells through force, but these pests would destroy their stores, and with winter approaching, this would be a grave problem indeed. She had all the pieces now, it seemed, to start action. Someone would have to stir up trouble in Duskendale, but she could write to Florent and he might be able to send someone. Zel could take the worms to Highgarden and find a way to get them somewhere they could eat.

Toby stayed quiet while Florie did her planning. He wondered if he was the only one who could hear the unusual tension in her voice, or if the others noticed some other matter was also on her mind. Finally, she drew a deep breath and said that Zel would have to leave soon, but first, she needed to ask something of them. She pursed her lips, then said that she and Toby were to be married, and that they would have to leave right away, to do this before anything could interfere. Toby could see that their friends were taken aback, but it was to their credit that they didn't protest the match.

They got themselves ready in a hurry, Toby and Florie both dressing nicely but not so much that they would stand out too far, and Maester Cyril preparing the basket of caterpillars for safe travel. They chose a rode that pointed vaguely southwards, so Zel would be that much closer to Highgarden, and rode fast for a while to put some distance between themselves and Blackbane. They stopped at a tiny town called Mistmill, where the stream made a little waterfall that they could hear nearby. The sept was tiny, but when they knocked, a tall, grizzled-looking septon opened the door for them. He grunted, and asked what they needed, and Toby choked out that they were getting married. The septon looked them over a bit more, and asked if they were running away from disapproving parents. Florie flushed a bit, and agreed it was something like that. The septon brought her into the sept first, to speak with her alone, then came back out to ask Toby questions about his sincerity in this matter and his love for her. Once satisfied with the answers, they all stepped into the little sept while the man read to them from the books of the Maiden, Warrior, and Father. Cyril took Toby's cloak from his shoulders and Zel took Florie's off to settle Toby's in its place. Then, hand in hand, they rose, and kissed.

They sent Zel on her way and rode back to Blackbane, making it in just before the dawn. Tired but elated, Toby bid Cyril goodnight, took Florie into his arms, and went with her to her chamber.

Ch. 4 - Thorns - cont.

Tobias
§

Ser Toby woke up to find that it had rained outside, muddying the pathways and probably the melee field as well. But the conditions didn't bother him so much as the knowledge that although this was supposed to be all in sport, Ser Ilyn Payne fully intended to kill him. Toby avoided the others somewhat as Corwin helped him get ready. Their anxiety over his safety was not exactly reassuring. He rode to the field and met with Orvus and Clay, and was introduced to the men who would fight alongside Payne. They were Ser Morveer Day and Ser Mangus Feist, and although he had not heard of them, he had no doubt that they were formidable opponents in their own right. The two groups stood across the field from one another, waiting. Then there was a trumpet blast that signalled the beginning of the match, and they moved in to do battle.

Toby knew he should probably coordinate with the others, but as the fight started, all he could think about was Payne's arrogant smirk. He yelled and charged the man, thinking only of his goal-- to see Payne downed, to protect the honor of the house he had grown up in. Payne was older, though, and a more experienced fighter. Though Toby's first blow struck true, it didn't do the crippling damage he had hoped, and now Payne had a chance to retaliate. And Ser Day was moving in behind him to strike as well. He could see, out of the corner of his eyes, his allies trying to catch up. Ser Orvus came up to take Day's attention off of Toby, and the two fought fiercely as Toby and Payne traded blows. Toby had come away bleeding a couple of times already, and it was dawning on him just how good with a sword Ser Payne clearly was.

Clay was held up by the large Ser Feist, who was armed with a battleaxe, and it was all he could do to stay on his feet. Everyone was hit, and the fight was getting plenty bloody, but nobody was ready to yield. Orvus managed to disentangle himself to come aid Toby in fighting Payne, which Toby would have been offended by at the beginning, but now he welcomed the aid. He struck at Payne again, and it was a successful blow, but his sword also hit the side of Payne's shield and stuck there. The momentary distraction was enough for Orvus to hit Payne in the side, where he'd been struck already, and the man crumpled, gasping out that he yielded. The trumpets sounded again, and Lord Tyrell called the victory for Toby's side.

That was nice, Toby thought, and he wasn't sure, as he collapsed, if the roar in his ears was the noise of the crowd or the rushing of his own blood.

Drezielle
§

Zel could hardly believe that Tobias still lived after the blows he had taken on the field. He was carried off bloody, but still breathing, and they hurried him back to the pavilion and settled him down. Toby was awake, but Zel suspected that was only because of the pain. Florie was in tears, but the girl knew well enough to stay out of the maester's way while he worked at bandaging wounds and applying poultices. Partway through the rest of their morning, a messenger in Highgarden colors arrived and said he carried a message from Mikel Mynot, asking if, because of the gravity of his injuries, Ser Toby would forfeit the joust at no loss to his honor. Before Zel and Florie could make an answer that wasn't likely to get Toby killed,Toby pushed himself up a bit more with a little groan, and announced his intent to go to the joust in the morning. The messenger bowed, left, and Zel wondered if the knight had survived today only to be killed on the morrow.

It was quiet in the tent for a while, then Florie, who had been pacing, strode up to Zel and begged her to come shopping with her. Zel was a little bewildered by the request, but she agreed to go along, and Florie explained as they walked that she wanted to buy Toby a new shield, since his was now rendered useless. Zel cheered a bit at that, since they would be shopping for things she was more accustomed to, rather than dresses and bows. She needed to pick up her own armor in any case, since it should be ready.

The new armor fit well, and Zel was pleased with the work. It helped her hide her gender even more, which was something she desperately wanted right now. Florie, it was clear, needed to be guided in her purchasing. She was easily drawn to pretty tents with big, colorful signs, and though she could tell the general quality of a shield, it was clear she was out of her depth when it came to shopping for such. Zel talked her down from a couple of purchases, and found her a less flashy area with solid, less expensive shields. She then guided the other young woman through the selection process, and found a shield that had been marked down because the knots in the wood it was made of prevented it from holding paint very well. It would be fine to give to Toby for the time being. He would just need it long enough to protect them on their trip back home, if he survived long enough to hold it.

They arrived back at the Felsward pavilion just as another Highgarden messenger showed up, saying they were cordially invited to celebrate their victory tonight inside the castle. Zel thought that surely they would make excuses, but Florie thanked the man for the invitation and asked Cyril to rouse Jonys. When Zel asked her, Florie said simply that it would be an insult not to go, and it would look very bad for their household. More insanity, Zel thought. She would never understand the nobles.

Florie
§

Anxious as Florie was about Toby, it was harder to be excited about going to a party at Highgarden. Still the decorations were beautiful, and there were candles everywhere, and branches with sweet-smelling flowers hung around. A thread of envy worked its way through her, too. She had always done her best to make Blackbane a place where finer things would not be out of place, but even at its finest, her home would look like a joke compared to this. Then there was the little stirring inside of her, the voice that whispered this place did not even really belong to the Tyrells. She tried to ignore that voice as she made her way through the crowd on her brother's arm, with Cyril and Zel following behind. They began to make their pleasantries, and Jonys started eyeing a buxom Dornish woman with flowing black hair and an outfit that Florie personally thought was tasteless. He was halfway over to the lady when Florie saw Lysette nearby, and she grabbed Jonys's arm and hissed that he had better greet his lady before anyone else.

Lysette was ecstatic to see her husband-to-be, and Florie shooed them off to dance. Cyril and Zel were already firmly ensconced at the table with their food, and Florie didn't blame them. She sipped wine and then wandered over to be asked to dance, and to watch Jonys. He seemed to be handling himself well, so when a man with golden hair and green-gold eyes asked her to dance, she smiled prettily and accepted. He was tall, handsome, and a good dancer besides, but what had Florie intrigued was that as they danced, he shared little bits of gossip and biting little remarks about the other guests in attendance. It had been a while since Florie had been able to share a bit of cattiness like this with someone, and she was laughing at the end. She stepped off to the side with him and at last he introduced himself as Tywin Lannister. Florie managed to smile, but she could barely breathe for shock. She had known the Lannisters were in attendance, of course, but it was another thing entirely to be dancing and flirting with one-- and not just any family member, but Tywin himself.

After this, though, the conversation turned a little strange. Tywin's biting remarks didn't spare the Felsward house, Florie found, and she defended her family's pride the best she could, given their recent misfortune. This particular flirtation, she could see, was dangerous. And she couldn't help thinking of Ser Tobias, wounded back at their pavilion, and the look he would probably be giving her if he were present. Florie politely extracted herself, wishing she knew more about the Lannisters themselves. She barely had time to catch Jonys as he wandered towards the Dornish woman again, and she dragged him back to toast their house, and to flirt with his lady some more.

Cyril
§

Cyril awoke early in the morning to tend to the sick and injured in the Felsward pavilion. When he had originally recieved notice of his post, he had wondered how busy he would be with such a small family. Now, wondering at that was laughable. When he had made his rounds, he took out the single vial he had reserved of his energy-giving potion. Florie had asked if he could make it new, and he said he could, but this would be much simpler, and nobody needed to know he had kept it. Cyril was shrewd enough to know when to hedge his bets, certainly. Florie had fretted the night before about Toby, about whether it was even safe to give him the potion, but it was clear that the knight would drag himself to the joust in any condition, or kill himself trying.

So Cyril dosed Tobias when he woke, and the improvement was quick. He had energy and liveliness, even though he'd seemed on death's door the day before. Corwin helped him get his armor on, and then handed Toby the new shielf. Toby blinked, and asked where it had come from. "Florie bought it for you," Cyril said, and a moment later, Toby bellowed for Florie. She came running, her hair halfway done, and her eyes wide. Right there, Toby grabbed her by the shoulders and kissed her, and then before she could respond, he jammed on his helmet and hurried away to ride to the field. Florie looked stunned for a moment, and then vanished back to her area. A little alarmed that Toby only had Corwin to monitor his behavior, Cyril hastened to ready himself enough to get to the field with Florie and Zel.

They went and sat anxiously in the stands. Zel kept muttering that Toby would get himself killed, and Cyril wasn't certain she was wrong. Florie just sat silently, her features pale. The first couple of matches went by, and then Toby appeared at one end of the field, and Mikel Mynot at the other. They charged, and when they met in the middle, Mynot's lance simply shattered on Toby's shield, and Toby's lance connected solidly. Mynot was unhorsed, against all odds. Now it would be over. Cyril started to stand, and then saw Toby get back in place to face a second challenger. The maester sat back down with a groan. This time, it was not so easy. Both men hit one another's shields and rocked in their saddles as their lances shattered, but neither fell. One final turn was called-- and if neither won, the match would be a draw. But on this last one, the other knight struck Toby hard and he fell from his horse. Cyril took off running to attend him. All they could do now was hope that this hadn't killed him.

~Argent~

ARGENT

§

The soft light of the tavern was was like a warm embrace that emanated from the center of the table. It illuminated a few pints that overflowed with Meadowlark and many more that were empty - the buzz of multiple conversations happening simultaneously was a dull, incomprehensible roar in the background. Argent flashed a roguish grin just as he delivered the filthy punchline of the story he had been telling, and then proceeded to take a very pointed sip of his cider to accentuate the joke. Ser Toby slapped his forhead and roared with laughter while Florie shook with the effort of suppressing her own giggles - she was a lady after all. Zel peered dreamily over two empty pints, a contented smile traced across his face, and Jonys was engaging Maester Cyril in what was apparently a very fascinating conversation. Hopefully the new maester wouldn't be opposed to endlessly talking shop, because that was what Jonys was prone to do once he got to rambling. Ser Toby threw up a hand and hailed the wench. More drinks were in order. Florie made a disparaging yet playful comment about his drinking habits, and then smiled prettily. Argent couldn't help but rock back in his chair, laughing hard. He leaned back much too far and toppled over onto the floor landing on his side. He curled his legs closer to his chest in a fetal position but continued to convulse with laughter. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to fight back the joyous tears that were welling up, his mind racing to come up with a clever retort to shoot back at his sister. He opened his eyes to climb back into his chair.

White, sterile shafts of light were what greeted him. They shot in at odd angles due to places where salt and wind had warped the planks of wood. The comfortable, golden glow encasing his friends and family- encasing the whole tavern- dissipated like smoke. Argent found that he was actually smiling, but then felt his face fall as he slowly realized where he was. The last little chuckle that had bubbled up, seeking a triumphant escape from the middle of his stomach, froze hard as a lump in his throat. Then it slowly uncoiled itself, and writhed back down his throat, wrapped around his heart, and constricted like a vice of frost.

His chest hurt. He was lying on his side on a mattress that may as well have been the floor. His left arm was numb from being slept on. The dizzying feeling in his head was not in fact the pleasant buzz of alcohol, but the teetering of his ship being lightly tossed about on the ocean. He thought wistfully that maybe he could squeeze his eyes shut again and return to the tavern, but then decided that would do more harm to his sanity in the long run than facing his lonely reality. A reality he had willingly thrown himself headlong into. Why had he done this to himself? Argent had convinced himself that in the heat of the moment it was what was best for everyone, the least amount of consequences for a major crime. He owed it to Ser Toby, and couldn't bear leaving Florie unprotected in the coming days. Argent was the most expendable out of the three of them. It was the best solution given the circumstances.

Or maybe he had seen an opportunity, a means of escape from a life that had previously been carefree but was rapidly becoming more and more complicated by the day. Responsibility that had never been his to begin with was thrust upon him like blocks of lead and began to weigh him down. Before he had been crushed completely he saw his chance to escape, seized it, and was now fully, utterly free. Argent couldn't bear to live with himself if this was true, and thus chose to ignore those thoughts whenever they crept in.

After fleeing from Silver Hill, Argent had ridden hard for the closest port. He knew that the authorities would send ravens with news of his alleged crime, so he had to outrun them; thus, he didn't stop, didn't allow his horse a break, until he had reached port and secured a ship. Cinder had been a faithful steed -the horse must have sensed his master's peril. In order to gain more coin for the voyage, and perhaps to shed another layer of his former life, Argent sold his horse to a worthy-looking hedgeknight just before setting sail. Yet another choice he had convinced himself was for the best.

He had selected his ship based off of which were going to the Free Cities, and which were leaving immediately. With minimal bargaining and his honeyed words, Argent was allowed passage on a mid-sized merchant ship named Smiling Moon, and while his sleeping quarters were by no means high quality, he was given his own private room to sleep in. Argent had traveled to the Free Cities only once before in his life, and at that time he had been quite young and his mother had been well-enough to travel. He did not really have any recollection of the voyage, and so did not remember how much one was jostled around while sailing. Argent spent everyday of the first week retching over the side of the ship, something which drew laughter and jeers from the ship's crew. When he wasn't busy vomiting, Argent stayed in his room and slept for much of the day. Eventually this hermitic existence grated on his sanity, and so he slowly began to come out and chat with the captain and crew. While he was sure they still made fun of him, Argent tried to endear himself to them by recounting stories or telling clever jokes he had learned.

Because the Smiling Moon had left port from the west coast, they had to sail all the way around the southern part of Westeros before being able to traverse the Narrow Sea and arrive in the Free Cities. Naturally, the merchant ship stopped at a few of the ports along the way, but Argent initially opted to stay aboard (sequestered in his room) for fear that if he stepped back on land he would be recognized, arrested, and his grand scheme would fall apart. Eventually, though, his feelings of loneliness, worry over his friends, and a yearning for news about the Reach gnawed a big enough hole in his spirit that he stepped off the ship only once in Dorne. He stayed very close to the docks, never actively seeking any communication, but always keeping his ears open for any conversations that carried even the vaguest hint of what was happening. No news had reached him by the time the ship left Dorne, and so he felt both disheartened and glad that there seemed to be no rumors about House Felsward.

Every day after that was a maddening battle with his own psyche, as he replayed in his mind's eye the events that led up to his flight. He analyzed it from every angle, tried to see some option that would have allowed him to remain with his loved ones while still shielding Ser Toby from punishment. Surely there were many better choices that could have been made, but Argent shied away from realizing them because that realization would surely drive him over the edge. And so it was a mental dance day in and day out, always dwelling upon the murder of Coll Greyfell and always trying to remain blissfully unaware of it. To occupy his mind in other ways, he tried a couple times to gamble with the sailors, betting a few coins here and there. He figured that his clever charms would easily win against such feeble-minded smallfolk, but oftentimes his gambits would fail. He was used to having his sister to bounce off of, the two of them always spun their webs together. Without her there, his deceits were a bit lopsided, and so he tended to lose. It didn't take him long to give up on that pasttime.

Now his mind had taken a devastating revenge by providing him with the sweetest of dreams, and then waking him to face a harsher reality. Argent lethargically raised himself to a sitting postion, and then just stared blankly ahead at the empty space between the floor and the bottom of the door that led out to the rest of the ship. He felt cold and and hollow. Perhaps if he wandered up to the deck the cool sea breeze would refresh him, help him to awaken more fully. Up to this point, the breeze had never produced any such effect, and Argent knew that he would only see waves to the horizon. Waves, waves, waves and more waves.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, rose from the bed, and silently slipped out of his room. His legs were stiff as he walked up the steps from belowdecks out into the open air. As usual there was a slight wind that carried with it the smell of salt and water, and it merrily batted at his short, dark-blonde hair. The sky was an unremarkable grey-blue, and the sun was like a distant white hole further washing out any color from his world. This is what bleakness must actually look like, Argent thought to himself as his eyes fell to his more immediate surroundings. The crew of the ship was busy bustling around, tightening ropes and adjusting sails as they customarily did, but today there was a hum of electricity in the air. The sailors seemed tense, as if something were going to burst forth from each of them, and they were using all their willpower to hold it back. Argent furrowed his brow, wondering what the situation was and wondering if he had courage enough to break their concentration and ask. Just then, he was clapped firmly on the back.

He turned to his right to see the ship's captain, a man who could only be described as solid and who stood a few inches shorter than Argent, smiling broadly. "Well, my lord, we are almost arrived."

Argent thought he had misheard. His whole life had consisted of nothing but the waves, his cramped little room, and the incessant rocking back and forth. He had been confined to the sea for so many weeks that he had just assumed he would remain there for the rest of his life. He snapped his head forward, looking directly in front of him - he had purposely avoided looking ahead to spare himself the sight of the endless water, but clearly that had been quite foolish. On the horizon was the distinct shape of land, rising defiantly out of the waves like a long-awaited paradise.

"So we are... And you shall then have the other half of your payment," Argent replied a little dryly, suspecting that his money was the real reason the captain was smiling. Then, he quickly remembered himself and added, "You have conducted me across the Narrow Sea faithfully, and it is much appreciated."

He smiled cordially and the captain returned to shouting orders at the crew and guiding the ship safely into port. This was by far the most grueling part of the journey. With land in sight, Argent could hardly contain his exuberance, and it seemed to take years for the ship to coast into the docks. He forced himself to walk calmly beside the captain down the gangplank to the pier, and did not allow his hands to shake as he paid the other half of his fare.

"Much obliged, my lord. Welcome to Braavos!" the captain gave Argent another hard clap on the back for good measure, then walked back up to the deck of the ship. Argent stood on the pier, paralyzed by indecision. He did not know the area, he didn't know where to go, or which road to take. He had no home here to go to, no work to do, no one was depending on him... Well, not anymore. Argent's thoughts brought him back to House Felsward. His mother, father, and brother, Florie, Ser Toby, and now Maester Cyril. Even Zel had been their companion long enough that Argent would have petitioned to having him added to the House guard. Those people would be fighting battles of might and intrigue, and he himself could not fight by their side.

It took a couple seconds to get his tired brain back on track, but within a few moments Argent took a resolute step forward. His legs were wobbly from being at sea for so long, and having solid ground beneath him had suddenly become a chore; however, with each successive step it became much easier to walk, and soon, Argent had lost himself in the swirling masses of people that were bustling around the port. It seemed that he did, after all, have errands to run and plans to make.

Ch. 4 - Thorns - cont.

Cyril
§

Maester Cyril could hear Florie arguing with her mother about staying for Axel Florent's visit. He couldn't hear more than the gist of it-- that Florie was trying to say without saying that she knew there were secrets and that she should be a part of them. He just quietly administered the much diminished doses of his energy potion to both Vallya and Jonys, and then at the young lord's request, accompanied him to the archery competition. Jonys wasn't so clearly aggressive as before, but he was proving to be a handful. He demanded sugared plums, and sent Cyril to fetch them, and had dozed off by the time the maester returned. Cyril woke him, and Jonys demanded more of the potion, upset that he was not feeling as well as he thought he should. Reluctantly, the maester agreed to give him another dose. The moment Cyril had it out, he grabbed it and downed most of the bottle.

Zel Flowers joined them, and Jonys's behavior became even more erratic as time passed. He was agitated, complaining of the lack of excitement in the archery, saying loudly that he thought they should be shooting at one another, or at least something more interesting than straw targets. Zel stayed, but uneasily, and Cyril did his best to soothe Jonys when he got too excited. But then, on the tail end of another rant, Jonys surged off, saying he wanted spiced meat. Cyril, in some desperation, asked Flowers to run after Jonys, while he followed at a slower pace, encumbered by his robes. He caught up to find Jonys in line for skewers of meat, and Zel behind him, looking put-upon. Zel stopped paying the lord any attention when a man rode by on a very fine horse, and Cyril let his mind wander, only to hear a shout, and to find Jonys setting upon a young boy,yelling that he was a thief. Before either Cyril or Zel could react, he had his hands around the child's throat, and was knocking his head against the ground. They wrestled Jonys off of him, and Zel crouched with Jonys while Cyril saw to the injured boy. There was a swelling at the back of the boy's head, and Cyril knew he had limited time to cut into the child's skull to relieve the pressure. He had to trust that what he knew in theory would work, and he quickly made the cut, sending a gout of pent-up blood over the dirt. He then worked to stop the bleeding, noticing with alarm that Jonys seemed to be getting far too friendly with the highwayman.

Cyril picked up the child and Zel helped maneuver Jonys back towards the tent. They met Toby on the way there, and the knight helped them get back without incident. Cyril explained to Florie what had happened, and she gave the word to dose both Jonys and Vallya with milk of poppy to make them sleep the rest of the day. He did so, and was plenty relieved to see them resting and quiet. He knelt to care for the boy, who looked to be only eight or nine, and a commoner besides. It was a guilty relief. Those who had seen would not care so much for the boy, and it was like as not that there would be few, if any, to miss him if he did not survive.

Tobias
§

Ser Toby’s morning had been busy. He had been up at dawn to train with Ser Orvus, then begged leave for lunch, but instead of eating, he went to the encampment to ask Florie if she knew who might stand beside him in the melee. He would need two other sworn knights. She reminded him of the knight they had stood up for the day before, and Toby went to find him, happy to have some glimmer of hope that he would not have to forfeit. However, he didn’t get far before he ran into Cyril, and helped him get the wounded boy back to the tent before reluctantly returning to Ser Orvus, to beg a little more time to search. Ser Orvus, learning of Toby’s problem, said that he had made a dangerous enemy in Ilyn Payne, who was known to other fighters as the Stranger’s Tollman. Nevertheless, even not knowing who stood with Payne, he agreed to fight beside Ser Toby, and let him have time to search for his third.

He found the knight watching a puppet show, and explained his situation. The knight introduced himself as Ser Carter Clay agreed to come with him to at least meet Ser Orvus, and hear that he vouched for Toby. Ser Orvus told the story of his battle with Toby on top of Tynker Tower, somewhat embellished, and at the end, Ser Carter agreed to fight in the melees with them. A little heartened by this, Toby finished out his training and returned anxiously to the tents. The injured boy still wasn't awake, but he was alive, which was better than Toby had hoped. Florie was in her part of the pavilion with the curtains drawn, and would not come out. Toby tried a couple of times to get her to talk at least, but then Jonys awoke and immediately started to make noise about the things he wanted. He also seemed to be a little more than friendly towards Zel, who didn't seem to know quite what to do. Jonys seemed caught somewhere between remorse and stubborn anger over what had happened with the child, and he tried to excuse his actions by pointing out that the boy had, after all, been a thief.

When Toby didn't accept that this was a reasonable excuse, Jonys snapped, "Your tone is curt. It does not become you."

"Your hands are spattered with a child's blood. It also does not become you," Toby snarled back.

Jonys stared at him a moment, and then directed his attention towards barking for Zel to go look for the boy's parents. Toby tried to go too, but Jonys ordered him to stay. Florie emerged to plead Toby's case, but Jonys pointed out coldly that right now, he was Lord Felsward. Even so, he calmed after a time, and allowed Toby leave to go run errands, so he left to search as well. So many commoners had children missing, though, and there were so many people gathered outside of Highgarden, the search was not likely to yield anything. He was nearly ready to give up and head back when somewhere in the distance, he heard someone shouting the Felsward name. Toby loosed his sword and took off at a run.

Drezielle
§

Zel looked for the boy for a time, but as evening stretched on, she found herself less than attentive to the search for a boy and more attentive to the gambling games going on around campfires. She watched a dice game for a bit, and as she did, she realized that one of the men playing was Njall Waynwright, no less than the man who was in charge of all highwaymen on this branch of the King's Road. He saw her, and offered to buy a drink. Zel knew she shouldn't refuse, so she sat to down for one drink, and then another. And another. By the fourth drink, Zel knew she should have found an excuse, because the world was swimmy and she was plenty drunk. To make matters worse, she needed, badly, to relieve herself, which posed an extra danger. She gasped out her excuse and ran to the ditches, sitting at the privy most in the dark. Before she could stand, though, Njall came to the ditches as well, and started to make conversation. She didn't like the look in his eye as he talked to her, and she started working out how to best get her pants up without showing anything she oughtn't. She thought she managed, and bolted off with a muttered excuse, but then she realized he was behind her. Zel ran.

She hadn't gotten far, though, when she tripped and fell into the mud, and then Njall was upon her, yanking down her pants and making clear that he knew what she was. His first words were that if she would only give in to him, he would make certain that she kept her secret and her position. Zel struggled, though. She had run away from a life where her body would be currency. She couldn't bargain herself away now. She wasn't as strong as the man on top of her though, and he shoved her face into the ground and put a hand between her legs. Spitting out dirt, she got her head turned, and shouted the Felsward name as loudly as she could. Maybe, if one of them or one of their allies was nearby, they would come.

After she had screamed several times, she could hear pounding footsteps, coming closer. Njall didn't have time to do more than straighten up in surprise to look for his attacker before Ser Toby was on him, castle-forged steel striking him on the crown of his head and cutting down, and through. This must have been the same berserk rage that had killed Greyfell, Zel thought numbly, and then something seemed to rattle loose inside of her, and she found herself laughing. Ser Toby stared at her, realization dawning in his features as he saw what her clothes no longer concealed. Zel didn't care, though. She had been saved, and her attacker was dead. She giggled more, staring down at the ground. "You made pieces!" She managed in a high voice, and Toby came to cover her with a cloak, his face a little ashen now.

"That was..." He looked at the mark of station stitched onto the man's clothing, and he paled even more. "We have to get rid of the body." Zel had presence of mind enough to help him wrap the pieces that had once been a man in the remains of his clothing, and as they did, they started to talk about a horrible idea. Pigs would eat anything. They skirted along the encampments until they found a sty, and let the animals do their work.

Florie
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At last, both Vallya and Jonys were in bed for the night and Florie could sit and think. Everyone had been coming and going all day, but she had not left their pavilion. At first, she was loathe to go when she knew Axel Florent would be coming. When Cyril put her mother to sleep, she knew that she would be able to talk to him. And she had, and now the gravity of her situation seemed to have increased manifold. Florent had been unhappy, at first, that Vallya was so indisposed she could not speak, but Florie had begun to play her games with words, to slowly indicate that she was aware of her mother's secrets. Her mother had, she said, recieved puzzling letters. No, she didn't know of any message passed on by Colin after his tragic death, but after some work, and because as a child she'd loved puzzles, she said, she had discovered the key on her own.

Florent's eyes lit a little bit at that. "You must have been quite good at puzzles, Florie... Gardener."

Hearing someone else call her by the name sent a shock through Florie. Part of it was guilt, and part of it was fierce pride too, and it scared her. But as she talked in veiled terms with Florent, she realized that in talking to him, she had already mapped her course of action. He would expose her family on his own if they did not take the name themselves. And there was no guarantee that if she refused right now, she would ever make it out of this alive. With the Tyrells so close, it would be too dangerous for Florent. So, heart in her throat, she agreed that when the time came, she would be a Gardener. Florent smiled, and said he had a gift to seal their bond, and he handed her a dagger of the sort Florie had only heard about. With a dragonbone handle and metal of swimming ebony, this was Valyrian steel. Axel said that he would not fail to create opportunity. And with that he was gone, and Florie was left wondering what she had done.

Still, she pulled herself together enough to speak with Maester Cyril and to assure that he was destroying the tonic that caused such aberrant behavior in her mother and brother. As they talked quietly, Toby and Zel stumbled in, both of them looking strange and wild-eyed. Florie saw that Toby had blood on his cheek, but he wouldn't talk to her about what had happened. However, Zel, seeming rather hysterical, said Toby attacked the man who had tried to rape her because he found out she was a girl. There was a bit of stunned silence, and then Florie ushered Zel off to get her into some of Jonys's nightclothes, and to assure that no matter what had happened, Zel had a place with them. No sooner had she settled Zel when Corwin burst in, saying that the Tyrells were headed their way.

Shortly, Luthor and Olenna Tyrell came forward at the head of a large procession, saying that they had business with Lady Felsward. Once again, Florie had to give apologies for her mother, and take her place. She saw quickly enough that what they wanted to know was how she felt about her traitor of a brother. Florie had been practicing, and didn't so much as stumble on any of the words as she denounced her brother. Then, a thought occurred to her and she said that as far as she was concerned, Argent was not of Felsward blood. The Tyrells seemed pleased by this, and said that was all their business, that they had just wished to reassure themselves of Felsward steadfastness to their lords. Florie bid them a polite goodbye, her heart in her throat.

Once that was done, she realized that she would have to talk to the others about the choice she had made. Zel was sleeping fitfully now, but she sat with Toby and Cyril and quietly explained what had happened with Florent. Toby didn't hesitate or question, just reaffirmed his loyalty to her. Cyril was more carefully worded, but Florie saw that he too, was willing to gamble for opportunity rather than wait for their hand to be forced. Relieved, Florie could finally settle in to get some sleep.