Ch. 4 - Seven, Damn the Starks.

Kai

§

I'm starting to feel slightly uneasy when it comes to making plans with the girls, not because I feel outmatched, but because it so frequently ends up being me talking to my brother, who is frankly not so hard to convince, and the girls endearing themselves to my father and making him feel like their ideas are his own. The uneasiness comes from a sense that although we are all working towards remarkably similar purposes, I don't know for sure what it is that both girls want. That, and their cleverness, does not necessarily bode well.

I wasn't going to be able to go hunting until the next day, because it would look awfully strange to desert the harvest festival so soon, and because we had groundwork to lay with Father and Tyrys. I went to my brother and, after once again promising to get him into the good graces of another girl, I mentioned that although we were not looking to start a war at this moment, being prepared would certainly be a good thing. Armies would need to be gathered and drilled, a task most suited to Tyrys's abilities, and one he would readily agree to. That done, I spent my day enjoying the festival, and the pretty girls there.

Meanwhile, I gathered that Florie went to my father first, to tempt him towards making more social plays to strengthen the Gardener position amongst the neighbors who have remained friendly to us. Then Ravenka went to him and told him a pretty story about how she noticed at the festival the ways in which his bannermen were being seduced away from him, but that she thought it was like in Bravos, when the merchant princes would team up with other merchants to offer special deals to avoid losing customers. Surely, bolstering support with powerful families would help keep the allegiance of his bannermen stronger. It worked, they reported to me later, and my father had several important things to think about.

I caught Odette looking at me like I was suddenly interesting, a far cry from her usual glower. The sense of unease came creeping back. We all had the same goals, didn't we? And yet I was certain there was something that I wasn't being told. I went back to the festival to find myself some female companionship for the evening and to get away from Odette's strange examination.

Rula

§

We had one more day of the harvest festival before our noble patron took us hunting, so we all went off to do what we did best, which was having a good time. We watched Quaynlis sing in a bardic competition, and win. He got a sack of dragons big enough that I wondered why Mother didn't send us to some poncey performance school. Azeline had enlisted herself in an archery competition, in a way that wouldn't draw too much attention to her, since if anyone knew who she was, she'd be forced back into the company of more reputable people.

Her plan of not getting noticed would've worked a bit better if she hadn't gone and tried to give her winnings away to the saddest, poorest looking person there. Her opponent in the final match rounded on her furiously, demanding to know what she was doing – whether if she didn't need the money, she was just competing to humiliate him. Azeline looked astonished. “I was shooting,” she said in wounded tones. “It's not my fault if you were humiliated!” 'Course, that was exactly the wrong sort of thing to say to the gentleman, and I thought it might come to me and the others stepping in, but Arun came to Azeline's side and lowered his head, giving a low, menacing growl. The young man looked a little paler then and turned on his heel to go away.

We had a right good time of it with the festival, and Slaange and I decided to round it off with a good old-fashioned drinking competition. We can both hold our own, and he has a little potion he calls Meadthistle, which he says allows him to take his liquor more if he's not too picky about how he feels in the morning. Everything was going well and I was having a damn good time right up until the moment when there were three of us left. Leastways, I think it was three, though sometimes I could have sworn it was six. About that time at any rate, I could feel the beer churning in my gut along with what was in retrospect a regrettable arrangement of festival foods. I reeled away from the table, sick, and left my brother to outdrink the giant man who had been our opponent. They toppled at nearly the same time, making it a draw, but I wasn't there to see it. I think we owe Quaynlis for getting us back to our encampment, but I wasn't in proper form to thank him in the morning. Everything felt awful and I didn't know what had possessed me to drink like I had. Slaange was in even worse shape, and could barely manage to drape himself over his horse.

Kai joined us, and I tried to look a little better for him, but I don't imagine it worked much. We got out a ways into the forest and Azeline set up one of her beautiful campsites and left me and Slaange in a tent with Quaynlis standing guard while she took Kai out hunting. Really, I think she took Kai out to watch her hunt, because he doesn't strike me as a woodsy sort of gentleman. I was feeling well enough to sit out by the fire pit when they came back with a deer draped over Arun's back, both of 'em looking pleased as they could be and the lordling looking a little green.

Next morning, we set off towards the first cave Azeline had picked out for us to explore, and Kai was having a bit of trouble with his horse. Now see, that's me being kind, on account of his nobility, because if he wasn't noble, I'd say he rode like he didn't even know which horse was the front end. Azeline took pity on him and said perhaps he could ride with her, behind her on her horse. I believe she meant the offer in earnest, though from the flush of her cheeks I could also tell that any excuse to be close to Kai was good for her. We had no luck with the first cave, and we agreed to press on another day to get to another cave Azeline knew about, even if it would make this a longer-than-average hunting trip.

With the luck we've had out in the wilderness so far, I was really just waiting for some horrible creature to attack us.

Kai

§

Quaynlis went ahead of me into the cave. “Stay behind me, M'lord,” he said. “Wouldn't want something untoward happening to you.” I couldn't tell with his little grin if he was making fun of me or not, so I didn't say anything. This wasn't as spacious a cave as the last had been, and the twisting passageways through it allowed us mostly to only travel one at a time between larger rooms. We went down until the passage opened up on a larger chamber, but even before we got there, a foul smell assaulted our noses. There were holes in the floor of the chamber, and they were all... well, they were all clearly latrines. Someone had been using this cave for a long time, although there was no other evidence of any inhabitance. I almost wanted to turn back, but we had to find the mushrooms.

The others began making their way carefully along the edges of the holes, but Quaynlis put out a hand to halt my progress, and said that perhaps it was best if we hung back. We watched Rula's torch bobbing along after Azeline, who bounded through the room as if nothing bothered her. Slaange was picking his way along more carefully with his own torch. I saw them both get up onto a ledge and vanish into a tiny tunnel, the light fading away.

Then, Azeline screamed.

Rula

§

When Azeline slid down the tunnel in front of me, I managed to hold back enough to control my own descent and not end up splashing into the murky cave water on the other end. Poor Az weren't so lucky, though, and when I lifted my torch, I saw her picking herself up out of the water covered in little white cave leeches. She screamed fit to wake the dead at that, and I went about getting them off of her, but it was a slow process, and she went paler and paler as I worked.

By the time I was done, my brother was gallantly coming to our rescue by tumbling down into the water himself, though he managed to pick up a few less leeches. Quaynlis was up at the mouth of the tunnel though with a rope, and he fed it down and tied it so we could all use it to help get us up. Azeline couldn't budge though, just stood there like she was frozen, shivering with something more than cold. Once Slaange was up, we tied the rope to Azeline and pulled her up gently as we could, though she screamed again like we was trying to kill her.

We resolved to leave the cave, which was starting to seem oppressive, and I led the way out, which meant I was right in front as we stepped out into the cave mouth where someone was waiting with bow and arrows. I felt a sudden, sharp pain, and yelled, stumbling back into the others with an arrow in my thigh above the knee. I couldn't bother taking the time to get it out proper, but I couldn't have it just sticking there, so I broke the arrow off as we backed up. We got to where we could spread out, and I caught my breath while Quaynlis and I took up positions on either side of the passage. A big man came charging out, and Quaynlis immediately slammed his maul into the man's chest, caving it in. The next to come out was going so fast, he didn't realize he'd met me sword until we was face to face and his belly pressed against the pommel. After this, they didn't send anyone charging in, and we thought maybe we had a bit of time to account for the number of 'em.

Slaange slid forward, moving like a cat into the darkness, and came back with a report that there were five men near, and 16 of them out in the big cave room near the entrance. Those were bad fighting odds, and we knew it, and they had the advantage. These kind of men would probably, Slaange pointed out, use the materials at their disposal (or shit, if his lordship Kai were out of earshot) to drive us out with noxious gas.

“You must have something better than they do,” Kai said to Slaange, and I think I caught a note of panic in his voice.

“We can do it first,” Slaange said at last. “And worse.” What he was intending was that we set fires in their latrines, where the toxic nature of the smoke would be even worse. But that meant we had to go hide in the leech pit, which nearly had Azeline screaming again. My brother calmly put a little green vial to her lips and made her drink, and after that, Azeline wasn't much with us, but at least we could guide her along. Slaange did mysterious chemical things to the latrine pits as we passed, and we all went down our rope to the leech pit to wait. My brother helped get the rest of the arrow out of my leg and get it bandaged, and then went about collecting leeches for his kit. Kai cradled Azeline close, though whether out of real affection or hope of some kind repayment, I couldn't say.

Then, all we could do was wait until it was safe to go out again.

Kai

§

When we made our way out of that pit of a cave at last, I slid on the damnable rope we had to scramble up and gashed open my leg from knee to ankle. The wound bubbled and burned, and I hardly noticed the handful of bodies of fallen bandits as we went through the main room, limping and in pain as I was. I don't think I'll go into another cave as long as I live. The other bandits had fled, but they had fled with our supplies and our horses. We settled Azeline down to sleep off whatever Slaange had given her, though she didn't want to rest without knowing if Arun was safe. Soon enough though, sleep overpowered her anyway.

I sat down on the ground and let the poisoner look at my wound, which shows how desperate I was, and he said it would heal all right, and he gave me something to drink to ease the pain. Dejected at the thought of a wasted trip, I dozed. After a while, Arun crept out of the woods, having had the good sense not to try fighting a horde of bandits, and snuggled in beside Azeline. She awoke to him licking her face, and then her eyes went big and round and adorable, and she said she'd had the strangest dream. In her dream, she had been walking through a verdant forest with a leather glove on her left hand. A falcon came screaming out of the sky and landed on it, and she saw that although he had been hunting, had had not caught anything. She lifted her hand so he could launch himself into the air again, and he landed moments later with an enormous snow-white raven in his talons. Azeline walked over to pick it up, mesmerized by the red speckles of blood on its white feathers, and as she knelt, she found herself in two feet of snow. She picked up the raven, and woke.

It was a troublesome dream. I don't like to consider myself overly suspicious, but a white raven and signs of winter are never taken lightly, even in dreams. I remember snow, from when I was a boy. It wasn't a hard winter, and our stores had been full even at the end, so I remember it fondly. Still, I know enough now to know that winter's arrival always heralds hardships. Chilled by this, I didn't even realize that Quaynlis and Slaange had vanished into the cave again.

They came out laden with armfuls of things, saying they had found another big room where the bandits had kept their loot, and in a hole under one of the bedrolls, they had found the carcass of a fox, with little red mushrooms growing from it. Success, after all. Quaynlis harvested the mushrooms and they both loaded their packs with anything else of value they could find.

It took us three long days to walk back to Highgarden. When we arrived, we found everyone frantic and thinking we were dead because one of the bandits had tried to sell our horses, and the horses had been recognized. Father was furious. He called the trip a fool's errand and worse, and I let him give me most of the blame. I didn't think Azeline deserved it, and I wanted to make sure that Slaange didn't get too much notice. My father said that clearly I needed to learn how to better protect myself (never mind that even Tyrys would have had trouble against so many men), and ordered me to complete more practice with my brother.

Six days we were gone, and five of those we were considered missing, and I learned that Florie had spent those days crying in the sept. When Father dismissed us, she came running to throw her arms around me for a very pleasant – very close – hug.

The day after we returned, I was sitting and lunching with Father when our master of ravens brought an enormous white raven into the hall. Everything went silent. “Seven,” Father murmured at last, growing grim. “Damn the Starks.”

Ch. 3 - The Harvest Festival

Kai

§

The harvest festival was upon us quicker than I imagined it would be. Highgarden was surrounded by market stalls and performers and tents. The first morning, my lovely cousins came to see me, and I was all too happy to be their festival escort. I brought them to the pavilions and and we decided to visit the Redwynes first because... well, because they would have the best wine. We sat and drank wine as we waited for Lord Redwyne to arrive, and he promptly gave us more wine, and I ended up drinking... rather more wine than I intended.

That meant that mostly I was content to sit and listen to Cousin Florie talking to Lord Redwyne about the toll on the Rose Road, working to make him sympathetic to our position, to convince him that it was bad for all of the Reach. Between her, and the pretty, smiling support from Ravenka, I do believe Redwyne was thoroughly convinced by the time we left the pavilion.

I wandered the stalls with the girls and eventually settled in to watch a puppet show with Florie. It bored Ravenka and so she went to shop nearby, which meant that I had my lovely cousin sitting very close to me on my cloak while we watched the puppeteers recreate the story of Balarian the Black. It was warm, and I was a little dizzy, and Florie was whispering pleasantly in my ear, and I had a mind to take her somewhere out of the way of prying eyes and kiss her like I've wanted to for months. I was working my way through this plan when a hand landed on my shoulder like some kind of weapon. It was Auntie Odette, looking decidedly chilly. She said she had a job for the two girls. They were to go investigate the hasty marriage of the only child of the Merryweathers of Long Table to a Baratheon boy. Odette shooed me off to go “help” my father and brother.

I found them talking about the tolls, glowering to each other about what it meant and about how it was clear the Baratheons were trying to force Father's hand on this. Neither of them were particularly pleased when I joined the conversation, but I was sobering at this point, and I had a thought. “We could force Lord Caswell into a defensive position,” I suggested. “Make him say he decided to levy the toll for the greater good of the Reach. Then we make certain that he can no longer collect from us or our bannermen. The Baratheons so kindly built us the toll gate, so we might as well use it for our advantage.”

“You'll do anything to avoid a fight, won't you?” Tyrys said, scorn thick in his voice. “Afraid of war, brother?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my father was smiling. “That is just the sort of thing we need,” he said. “War takes planning and preparation. And we aren't prepared, not right now.” Then he dismissed Tyrys to the yard for his practice and asked me to stay and and discuss the logistics. I didn't miss the dark look my brother gave me as he left. But it serves him right for spending all of his time learning how to get himself killed.

After we finished talking, I found Odette with my cousins in the solar. They were talking in hushed tones about the Merryweathers, and told me that Lilyas Merryweather had married Methias Baratheon so hastily as to be improper. Nobody had been invited, and a more than substantial dowry was involved. As the Merryweathers had no sons, the marriage would mean that Long Table would pass to the Baratheons. Another insult. Another push at our borders. It was clear that the Baratheons were starting to look for fights, but they wanted to make sure we were the ones starting it.

Ravenka smiled, and batted her eyes, and said that at the least the Merryweathers might be rethinking the wisdom of their decision, because they had heard that awful rumor about a secret blood disease running through the veins of the Baratheon men. “I don't know who spreads these stories,” she said with a silvery little laugh that chilled me to the bone. Suddenly I found myself reevaluating my Free Cities cousin and her provincial ways. There is a wicked intelligence behind those pretty eyes.

Odette too, was scaring me. She sat still and straight with a somewhat distant expression, like someone looking over the map of a battlefield and calculating how many lives might be lost. She leveled her gaze at us and said that perhaps something could be done about Methias Baratheon. And done about the girl, in case he had gotten her with child. If he died without issue, the ownership of Long Table would revert to us.

There was a silence, and then everyone spoke at once, hissing possibilities back and forth. A man could be wounded in the tourneys. He could be injured and sent to a waiting medic, where all kinds of things could happen. He wouldn't have to die, of course, just be... impaired. And then I thought of something I had heard from Azeline Ivy a few days before. Her cousin Slaange, who we had sent along with her to Silver Hill, had proved a strong knowledge of poisons and substances. If anything could be done, both about the possibility that Lilyas was already with child, and the chances of making another one, he would know how to do so in the most quiet fashion there was. I said this, quietly, and assured the ladies that I would speak with him that night.

I went to seek out Azeline, presuming correctly that she would be avoiding the castle and enjoying the company of her new friends. I found them around the fire listening to a really filth song from the performer, but Azeline bounded to my side almost as soon as she saw me. There's another pretty girl, though young. I felt a bit bad for needing to brush her aside so quickly, but I had to talk to Slaange. He looked startled when I called for him, and there was something like a flush in his cheeks when he agreed to talk to me alone. Interesting, that. He was a bit miffed that Azeline had told me about him, but I assured him of my discretion – and my willingness to pay for his services.

I asked him first about the drink for the girl. “There's a girl-” I started.

“Say no more,” Slaange said, waving a hand, then caught something in my look and frowned. “Wait... perhaps you should say more.”

“I need to make sure that if she is with child... she isn't any more,” I said. “But without her knowing.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

The next, though, was a tricky prospect. In order for a man to lose his vitality as we intended, he needed a red-capped mushroom rare enough to be a serious challenge. He said it only grew in the hollow where a fox had gone in to give birth, and died instead. He called to Azeline, and asked her if such a thing grew in our forests. She agreed that it should, and I offered to take us all on a hunting trip in the morning. They could look as much as they pleased then. With that, I took my leave, and went back to the feast to tell the others what we needed.

Rula

§

When the second son of the Gardeners came and asked for my brother, I tried not to stare. Especially since everyone else was doing enough staring already. The man looks like he walked out of a ballad, which isn't remotely fair. Azeline could barely manage to talk sense around him, and she's a sensible sort of girl, normally. Seemed to be all my brother could do to not make doe eyes at the man. Not that I wasn't affected, mind, I think it would take a person made of stone not to respond to that smile, but I know my chances.

When Slaange hinted that what the lordling wanted was some kind of poisoning, I grunted and held up a hand. “Likely then, it's better the less I know,” I muttered. “I'll just make sure you're safe.” When it comes to noble business, I've always imagined it's best that I only know exactly as much as I need to do my job. A job which apparently now includes going on a hunting trip and helping to find some kind of mushroom. I don't mind being out and about, I suppose, but all the same, I've not had lovely experiences with the wildlife around these parts so far.

Not my job to protest, though. In the morning, we would go hunting.

Ch. 2 - Old Places

Rula

§

Silver Hill was an uglier town than I expected it to be. Sounds pretty, but mining's an ugly job, I suppose, and the town showed it. Tailings piles everywhere and miners in piss-poor moods. I wanted to turn tail and leave soon as we was in the place, but we had a job to do. Azeline lost her confidence soon's she was in the middle of civilization again and wasn't sure where to start, so we all prodded her get a feel for the local attitudes in a tavern. It could be the rest of us were wantin' a drink at that point, too, so we found ourselves the Squeaky Cart Tavern. The temperature lowered once we were inside, though, since none of us looked a thing like a miner. Conversations went quiet and we all sat down and had ale. Well, those of us with a lick of sense had ale; Azeline asked for wine, and could barely choke down a couple of sips, and that was with a chunk of bread.

It didn't seem like we were going to be able to hear much with everyone keepin' to themselves, so Quaynlis started singing a song. It was a filthy little ditty, and that was well-received, and everyone warmed up a bit more when Azeline said she wanted to learn to gamble. Mostly, she lost herself some money, which I suppose was a fine plan for making friends. Soon enough, one of the miners was tellin' her the trouble, how the silver was all out, and the town wouldn't sustain in the same way it had before. There weren't much to say after that, and we left the tavern in a drizzle, figuring we'd better get ourselves a place to stay for the night, and a few gentlemen came out from the alley and tried to relieve us of our money. There were as many of them as us, which meant that they were outclassed and didn't even know it. My sword is like an extension of myself, and I had it in my hand before any of them could even get to me. There were two close by and I swiped my sword across the first one's throat and jabbed at the next, and by that time, my friends had made short work of the others. Our attackers ran, well, all of 'em excepting the one on the ground with his throat slit, and we continued on our way.

First inn we went to was called “M'Lady's Chamber,” and a posh man who introduced himself as Gorice made it clear he didn't think we could pay. Granted, we didn't look like nobs, but it seems they don't get too many travelers Gorice would find acceptable. He didn't like it much either when Quaynlis, with a perfectly straight face, asked “How did a lady of quality such as yourself end up in Silver Hill?” He suggested we try the Silver Squirrel instead, and we weren't of a mind to argue. The Silver Squirrel was a nice enough place too, and more our speed downstairs, with pipe music and rowdy singing. It was set to be a fine night until Azeline ordered dinner enough for two people just to feed her dog. None of us could stop her in time, and it was clear there weren't much goodwill to be had from the townspeople after that. Quaynlis sighed, seeming a bit put off after talking so much about finding a pretty girl or two for the night. Then he got this little smile, and said he was thinking he'd like to go to bed, and would Slaange like to go to bed too? I tried not to choke on my ale as Slaange went a little pink in the ears and agreed, and they went upstairs.

Now, it's not as if I don't know my brother's preferences. He's never looked twice at a girl, not even when we were younger and first learning just what it was that boys and girls got up to with each other. And I'm not saying it bothers me any, the idea of one man getting his pleasure in another man, but when it's your own brother, you don't really want to know all the details. A story or two, yes, but you don't want to hear him in the next room rolling about and groaning, and you certainly don't want Azeline staring at you with those big wide eyes and asking if you think they're all right. Quaynlis is an attractive man and I'm happy for Slaange, truly I am, but it sours the mood a bit to listen in and try to make excuses. “Wrestling, Miz Ivy,” I said at last as I stripped down for my bath. “That's what they're doing. Practicing.”

“We should do that too,” she said, and I just sank into the hot water to pretend that I didn't exist.

In the morning, I avoided Slaange's eyes so I wouldn't think about it all, and if it hurt his feelings any, it served him right for what I'd had to go to sleep to the night before. Azeline decided she had to talk to someone who might know for sure if the mine was drying up, so she went to talk animal care with the teamsters. She helped settle a mule that kicked out at Arun, and once she got comfy with the animal handlers, one of 'em told her that there was still silver underground, but it got too hot and the air too foul that deep in the mines, and they couldn't bring it out.

That seemed to settle the question, and we were glad to leave the mining town. Quaynlis, though, had different plans than going right back to Lord Gardener and sharing the news. He said we would be going by Blackbane Hall, or the ruins of it, where the Gardeners used to live before they reclaimed the Gardener heritage. None of us were keen to get back, and the way Quaynlis told the story made it sound awfully romantic, so we agreed we'd go to Blackbane first and let him do his treasure hunting there.

My brother was looking spooked right away when we got there. He's not superstitious, mind, just rather unimpressed with untamed nature. Arun went off barking after a rabbit, and Quaynlis took off for the ruined palisades seemingly without a care in the world, but the rest of us proceeded a little more cautiously. Ahead of us was the remains of what had been a great hall, and the rest of the building partly intact behind it. Around the back of the building was a huge dark tangle of apple trees. I've always thought apple trees looked good and wholesome, but these seemed wrong, somehow, made it like a threatening forest rather than an overgrown orchard. As I was admiring this view, I heard a choked little noise from Slaange, and in careful tones, he asked Ivy if she knew whether a huge green snake with red eyes was like to be dangerous. Ivy said they were very poisonous, and Slaange went a little pale at that, because he had damn near stepped on one and it was looking at him now like it was considering whether he'd be tasty.

One wrong move could get my brother killed. But when I practiced with my water dancing master, he told me I needed to be quick as a snake. He caught little brown snakes that had a painful, though not deadly, bite, and put them in big cages. Then he would steal my things, and put them in the center of the cages, so that I would have to be quick as a snake to retrieve them without getting bitten. I did get bitten of course, many times over. I spent weeks with my hands and forearms swollen and in agony. Then, one day, my hand moved quicker than the serpent. One day, I learned to be as fast – faster than – a snake. I couldn't allow myself to think about Slaange, because if I did, I would worry. The universe was just me, and my blade, and the snake. And I sliced its head off before it could move.

Slaange unfroze himself, and he knelt to carefully harvest one of the poison glands from the snake, chiding me on having damaged the other. Ungrateful little snot, my brother. He didn't want to go into the ruins, but he wanted even less to be left outside alone with the snakes, so he reluctantly followed us in.

The wood was rotten and the floors were caving in at points, and we had to move carefully. Well, that's what I'm good at, so when the others edged along a beam like they might die, I practically danced across it. Felt good to really move, after feeling like one big saddle sore out on the road. We explored around, and when Quaylis met a door he couldn't get through, he generally used his maul to smash through it. At the bottom of a set of rickety spiral stairs, we found a bunch of clay jars with lead seals. Quaynlis pried one open, and inside was the sweetest, best mead I've ever tasted. It had had years to settle, which meant we would have to siphon it off the top to keep the quality, but we all figured we could come back for it. We sat and had a drink and didn't realize that the sweetness was attracting company. Wasn't until we was covered in big biting ants that we saw a need to get out of there. And as we stomped our way up the stairs, we learned the buggers had wings too. And then I noticed that our bold adventurer Quaynlis was frozen at the bottom of the stairs. “Slaange, help me!” I yelled, and got an arm around one side of Quaynlis and Slaange got him on the other side, and we dragged him up the stairs. I slapped him across the face to snap him out of it while Slaange and Ivy spread saltpeter around to deter the ants.

We made camp that night, and promised one more foray into Blackbane because Quaynlis had found his adventuring spirit again. He crashed through another door, one made of iron this time – Now, I know this is my brother's territory, but the man has surprising muscle, and it flexes under his shirt when he lifts his maul. It's not bad watching, is all I'm saying. Behind the door we found a smaller hall with a bunch of tapestries, and a giant shield with the Felsward arms that made Quaynlis very happy. He sat at the high table, clearly pretending at being lord, while the rest of us poked about. I'll not deny any man his fantasies, but it all seems a bit silly. Then again, he comes from nobler stock than some of us, so maybe it's something in the blood. We ended that little excursion looking through the abandoned kitchen and finding a giant nest of biting rats, and once more, left Blackbane Hall as quickly as we could manage.

With a promise to Quaynlis that we would return before too long, we headed back to Highgarden, where Azeline had the thankless job of reporting bad news to Lord Arthyr.

Kai

§

The mines were nearly done for. That was what Ivy's party found, although they also reported that there was silver too far down to be reached. And nobody wants to go plunging into hot, deep... mines. Still, I could see my father sending people to their deaths over it, and that wasn't a cheery thought. There has to be another way to keep our land profitable. And on top of that, there's the Baratheons to deal with and their damnable new tolls, and the singularly thankless prospect of getting Tyrys a wife and an heir.

I discussed these things with my cousins, though the conversation about Tyrys was prompted mostly by Auntie Odette, who is getting less subtle in her hints that perhaps Florie would be a good and convenient match. I would really prefer to focus on making sure the Baratheons keep their distance.

Ch. 1 - New Blood

Kai

§

On a fine spring day when I was mostly concerned about being excited that another pretty cousin would be visiting Highgarden, Father was in a foul mood. He had been getting messages by raven that made him more and more grumpy, and Tyrys wasn't helping matters, mostly just removing himself to go play soldier in the courtyard. It was really irritating, because I don't like to have to worry about castle affairs. Well, other than my own. But with newcomers to Highgarden on the way, and I wanted to make sure that we presented a good front, and my glowering father and sweaty brother might let me down, so I had to interfere.

Tyrys was busy damn near murdering our master at arms when I went to talk to him. Where I am a little more lithe and slender, Tyrys looks like he should be charging into battle on a giant stallion, but most of us are of the mind that he needs an heir before he goes off to find a war to kill himself in. He had a wife, a pretty Baratheon girl, who died, as he likes to say, “murdering his son” in childbirth. We have bad luck, my brother and I, when it comes to women. I've been engaged three times, and none of them lived long enough to be my bride. It's not quite as important for me as it is for Tyrys though, and I've no doubt that much of my near future will be filled with trying to make sure he has a bride that won't break this time. But I digress. Tyrys reluctantly came away from his fight to tell me that it was none of my business to know what Father was so upset about. Thinking that was no way to have a brotherly conversation, I tugged him aside a bit more and to express concern over the stress everyone was feeling. Perhaps, I said, I could lessen his burden by offering him a night to relax and forget his worries. A night, specifically, with Ilsa, a girl I had planned to see that evening, but who I've noticed is rather partial to my brother too. I'd be more than happy, I said, to give up my evening, if he would tell me what was going on. It was probably Ilsa's ample charms more than mine that worked on him, but he lowered his voice and told me that word was coming in that Silver Hill was exhausted. A serious source of income for us, drying up fast. Now I could see why the mood of the castle was so dark.

Nevertheless, I endeavored to help hide the bad moods when we greeted Cousin Ravenka in the afternoon. I stood next to my other lovely cousin Florie, who had her fair hair decorated with ribbons for the occasion, and the neck of her gown dipping low enough to draw a man's eye. This man in particular. I dragged my gaze up in time to see our steward, my Auntie Odette, bustling forward to meet the arriving party with cakes and drinks. And then Ravenka came forward, a lovely little vision in exotic brocades, and I decided I would be her personal tour guide as much as I could get away with.

At the feast in her honor that night, she surprised everyone with some charming provincial manners and forwardness. They must do things very differently in the Free Cities, and despite some hissed directions from Florie, she insisted on serving Father wine. Adorable.

But then she was talking about the things that she had seen on her journey from King's landing, and one of those things was the toll they were exacting at Bitter Bridge. That got everyone's attention, though she told it so simply and sweetly that she couldn't have known just how unusual it was. She only remarked that the merchants she had traveled with had been deeply irritated by it. I saw Father going calculating, and he motioned Odette to him. I heard a muttered conversation about inviting (compelling, rather) Lord Caswell of Bitter Bridge and Lord Redwyne to come to our upcoming harvest festival. Odette bustled off to get letters written, and conversation turned more mundane. I was just inviting both of my cousins on a walk through the gardens afterwards when she came back and invited herself. By the Seven, you'd think that woman had an extra sense that informs her when I'm going to go off with girls. I mean, to be fair, she knows my habits. To be fairer, she's seen me watching Florie. But it's not as if I'm not discreet.

We walked, and eventually, when it became painfully obvious that Odette would not even let me charm either of the girls a little bit, the conversation turned towards the developing trouble at Silver Hill and Bitter Bridge. That Ravenka is a quick study, and listens well. She picked up on both issues right away, and we all wondered if it might be best to try and help to direct Father's attention. We could wait for the festival, not long off, to learn more about Caswell's alarming toll, but someone would have to go directly to Silver Hill to make see if, as had happened two generations before, the caretakers of Silver Hill were claiming a dry mine and taking the silver for themselves. We elected Odette, who has an efficient, polite way of making my father do what she wants, to go talk to him. That left me in the hall to flirt with the girls, which I think is a damned fine place to be.

Rula

§

Never pays to try and hobnob with nobles, I used to think, but the chit of a girl sitting in the stables with us hardly looked like a noble and hardly invited any fancy treatment. And besides, she was kin of the same bloodline. Azeline Ivy and her big ol' dog looked as if they'd be most at home roaming the woods like something out of a ballad, and from what I gathered, that's what she preferred to do, though her mum and dad didn't take so kindly to the thought. I didn't see what's got them so excitable, since she seems like a fine girl to me, but my mum made sure I spent my early years training as an assassin and the rest of them learning to fight, so I may not be the best judge of what's proper an' all. I'm a woman, but certainly not a lady.

My brother was sitting beside me, pretending not to know me while I told one of my filthy stories to our companions. Quaynlis, our fourth, had started it. Or maybe I'd started it. Anyway, we'd been exchanging back and forth a while, and Azeline was giggling and kept gasping at the impropriety of it all, but I figure a girl has to learn it all somewhere. A page interrupted us and said we had been asked inside to the kitchens. Slaange and I exchanged a glance, wondering at the long list of things we might be in trouble for. Still, the kitchen had fresh bread and more Meadowlark cider, so we all went along with it and trooped in to the kitchens.

Castle steward Odette Gardener stood in front of us, her matronly brow knit with some emotion I couldn't fathom. Like she was interested in us but afraid we might wee on the carpets like untrained puppies. She said that we were needed, as members of the extended family, to go on an exploratory trip to Silver Hill to investigate the mine there. Azeline's jaw about hit the floor when Odette said that she would be leading the party as a noble representative of Highgarden. I thought maybe it was some kind of joke for a moment, until Odette explained that they wanted someone who wasn't well-known as a member of court and who didn't look the part. None of us took badly to the idea either. I don't think any among us is much of a leader, or rather I doubt the rest of us want to be the one standing in front when one of the nobs gets flighty or upset. Better let 'em take care of their own and let the rest of us say we was just doing what we was told, thankyouverramuch.

We set off next morning for Silver Hill, and I realized I'm not much of a hand at riding 'cross the country, and neither is my horse so used to it, either. We've been city folk too long, I suppose. Azeline though looked as if she was born to it. She made our camp as if it was the easiest thing in the world, and there was even a rain shelter for whoever was standing guard. Our second night out, I was on guard and I heard a noise. I looked up into a pair of eyes glittering in the light of my little fire, and realized I had a bear in front of me, and it was about to attack. A sensible girl would have run the other direction, but I'm not a sensible girl, so I yelled for the others, drew out my steel, and stuck it in near the beast's neck. I hurt it, but it gave me a right mean whack along my side. By that time, though, the others were roused, and Quaynlis came roaring out of the tent with his big (mace? Cudgel? Wtf is that thing again?) and hit the bear across the back. It stumbled and I got some distance, and Azeline had nocked an arrow to her bow then and shot it between the eyes. The bear crumpled, and without so much as a blink, Azeline skinned it where it lay. Handy girl, her.

Ch. 3 - Lines in the Sand

Drezielle
§

Ser Orvus had done well in charge of Tynker during their absence, and Zel was grateful that for once, things seemed to be working right. The blood collectively on their hands did not disturb her so much. She had seen far more petty murders, with less at stake, and she knew Felsward would have been a danger to them all. Now, they might have a fighting chance. But they were only back at the tower a couple of weeks when Ser Orvus brought word that the miller's daughters, returning with the new millstone, had seen an army on the Rose Road, coming this way. Zel was sent out as a scout to learn what she could.

It was getting cold at night, but she had dealt with cold before, and Zel left her horse at the bottom of a hill and went sneaking towards the camp. It was a large army, over a thousand strong, certainly larger than the forces that trained at Tynker. They had set up a good picket, and guards, and she tried sneaking through, but a piece of her clothing snagged on one of the lines and the bells attached to it rang. She backed out and ran, and made her way painstakingly to the other side of the camp. It was marshy here, and she ended up with one leg wet and freezing nearly to the thigh. This time, she decided to go through the guards. She threw a knife, catching one in the throat, and as his partner looked over to see what had happened, she rushed him and stabbed him before he could cry out. She was at last in the camp, and was trying to edge along the tents to overhear what she could, but luck was not on her side. She tripped over a tent pole and the noise had guards running towards her. She had no choice but to run, out of the camp and back to her horse, and take off back to Tynker.

She arrived cold and damp and feeling ill. She gasped out what little she had learned and went to bed. While she rested, the others began making preparations for war. They had learned enough about Tynker's defenses to be able to capitalize on their location, and that would most certainly help. By the time Zel was on her feet again, there had been a barricade built, and fire pits, and numerous other preparations for siege made. They were finished just in time, as the army hove into view. Four riders came forward and asked for parlay, and Zel rode out with the others to talk. From the start, it did not go well. One of them was in shining, fancy armor, with a standard Zel had never seen, and Cyril explained in a low voice that it was the symbol of the Sons of the Sept, an order of holy knights thought to have vanished into history. They tried to speak to Toby, who told them to leave. Then they started appealing to Maester Cyril's reason, and Toby, feeling slighted at being ignored, shouted for them to go. When he felt they had ignored his warning and the others' protests long enough, Toby drew his sword and attacked. Zel got out of the way. There was a skirmish, and Toby injured one of the men badly enough that they all retreated, and Florie had to get in front of him before he would even listen to her telling him to ride back. It had been answer enough for the army at the mouth of the valley, and they rode in. Zel helped get their own forces ready, and soothing those who thought they had seen their lord strike the first blow. A few more stretched truths, Zel knew, would hardly be anything at this point.

Tobias
§

Tobias would have faced the army head on himself, but Florie had begged him to stay back, to lead by shouting orders rather than by example. He quelled the battle rage that came so easily to him, and started relaying orders. Cyril and Florie would be in charge of the men still in the tower, and Zel would help Tobias hold the base of the tower for as long as possible. It was a good plan, he knew, and it utilized their smaller forces to the best advantage, but the army coming towards them was formidable. He would in any case put up a good fight. Tower archers and archers on the cliff side felled the front line of the attacking forces, and then it was a battle in earnest, all clashing blades. Toby rode through, taking down enemies wherever he could, more comfortable in flat out battle than in leadership.

The hastily constructed barricades held as well as they could have hoped, but enough work by enemy soldiers, and those walls began to fall. And then came their horsed men, and the fight got bloodier. Tobias was forced to order their troops back behind the pits they had dug, and he gave the signal for Cyril's archers to light the fires. Flaming arrows hit the mark, and the fires roared up to catch their oncoming enemies by surprise, burning brilliant green. He could hear his wife shouting from the tower, encouraging their men that this was a sign, that the Seven were truly with them in their struggle. Lit by holy green fire, the battle continued.

Drezielle
§

During the battle, Zel accounted well for herself, but she knew that her strengths were better suited to other pursuits, and even as she fought, she found herself watching the battle as if from farther away. Their enemies were now almost all in the valley, and if they were forced to retreat, they could be cut off. If, of course, there was anyone to cut them down as they drew back. They had men on the cliff sides but no way to reach them, to send a message that they should move along and get to the mouth of the valley. Zel made a decision, and rode away from the battle, to the back of the tower. She shed her heaviest armor, and began to climb the cliff face. She was dizzyingly high when she slipped and then caught herself, heart pounding. A fall now would mean death. She tried again, but she was stuck where she was, and her grip would not hold for much longer. Then she heard Florie's voice faintly from the top of the tower, shouting where a handhold could be seen. With that, Zel managed to drag herself up. The climb was more painful now, and she had another terrifying slip, barely managing to catch herself on a protruding root. She didn't know how far she was from the top, only that she must keep climbing. Then, something hit her lightly on the shoulder. A rope was being lowered. She scrambled to hold onto it, and let the astonished men at the top pull her up. Now, she could direct them to where they would be most useful.

Tobias
§

Though their enemies had been a little stunned by the miracle fire at first, they had nonetheless pressed on, and the tower forces were forced to draw back even more and prepare to defend the tower itself. Toby knew he was supposed to go back in, but his wife and Cyril could easily command the men inside. And he could not in good conscience, leave men wounded outside, doomed to die because they could not retreat. So he got as many into the tower as he could, and ordered the gates shut and barred, with him outside. He saw Zel on the cliff, but could not think what she was doing there, and then the fighting was too brutal to think of much else.

This was more like it, Toby thought, battling without having to order others around. His battle rage was so strong that he didn't notice the small wounds he took, and barely realized that as he fought, his horse took injuries too. The animal was dying underneath him, and as it collapsed, he had just enough presence of mind to jump free of it. Then he heard more hoofbeats, and as he turned to look, he saw Corwin leading a new horse from behind the tower. The boy was pale, but clearly determined to do his duty, and with no way to send him back now, Toby took the horse and ordered Corwin to stay close. No sooner had he done that than a lance hit him full on in the shoulder, and Toby turned to see one of the Sons of the Sept readying himself for another blow. Toby turned and fought, but the paladin had not been fighting so hard as him, and though Toby was plenty ready to fight more, his limbs seemed sluggish. The man had dropped the lance and gotten out a morning star, and he swung it. It hit Toby square in the chest, and he could hardly see for the pain. He felt something crumple, felt like he couldn't breathe. He willed himself to move, and managed to stab his opponent, but it was not a killing blow. The man swung the morning star again, but then his horse shied. Corwin ran back away from it, and Toby could see what had happened. The young squire had stabbed the horse in the flank. This gave Toby the time he needed to heft his sword and swing it at the paladin's neck. It struck true, and the man fell, nearly beheaded.

Then, with the world a red mist around him, Tobias saw that the attacking forces were retreating, and being mowed down by archers on the cliffs, which must be Zel's doing. And then he didn't see anything at all.

Florie
§

As soon as it was safe to unbar the gates, Florie had men go out and fetch Tobias, her heart pounding. She had seen him slump over his horse, and after the fight she had witnessed, she feared the worst. She got him inside, and found that he was still breathing at least, and she called immediately for Cyril to tend to him. As they carefully took his battered armor off, she saw that where the morningstar had hit his chest, the charm he wore had crushed against his skin, and though he bled, nothing seemed to be broken. The Faith had protected him. Florie got out of Cyril's way as he worked, though she stayed close. At last, Tobias opened his eyes again, and croaked out that he wanted to knight Zel. He would not be persuaded to wait, and when Zel was brought in, he forced himself up and ordered them all outside, so he could anoint Zel in the ways of the new Faith, under the skies and with the blessings of the Seven as he now knew them. With so many changes, it was a little thing to knight Zel as a woman, and to give her a name in place of Flowers. A little stunned, she knelt before Toby, and rose as Dame Drezielle Ivy. Florie ushered her husband back into the tower and into bed, and went about taking stock of what they had. She was worried about a second push against them, with so many of their own wounded or dead, and Tobias injured as he was.

She needn't have worried. In the morning, the remainder of the forces that had amassed against them were gone. They had proven Tynker too defensible. Florie was pleased at this, but now they must use what precious little time they had to try to get into Highgarden. They sent women into the city, to seduce and manipulate important people, to wait for a signal and carry out key assassinations, to open the gates when the army arrived. Zel began working with a handpicked group that would be able to climb the walls and infiltrate secretly into Highgarden when the time came. Florie started writing letters. Their own forces were not enough, not even if they amassed more over another month or two. So she wrote to the Dornish, choosing their royalty and a few important families to send word to. Dorne had never bent the knee, had always remained apart whenever they could, and if anyone was sympathetic to a region trying to break away, it would be them. She entreated them to send their forces, and promised that their rule would mean that The Reach would no longer bow to the king on the Iron Throne. She agreed to acknowledge and help protect Dornish sovereignty. Then, Florie spent a great deal of time working on a letter to Axel Florent. She knew she could not trust him, but she knew too that she needed more than his verbal support. She needed to know that he really would acknowledge her as a Gardener and as the rightful leadership of Highgarden. Florie deliberated, and then in her letter asked for Florent to meet with them in secret, to bend the knee, and to take his place as the Hand of the Gardeners.

They met in Meadowlark, since it was a location they knew well and felt comfortable in, and it would be far away enough from Tynker that Florent would not see just how thin their forces were. It was important that they get his pledge before he could raise doubts. Florent met them, clearly unhappy. Florie began to think, as he talked, that she had lost him. He said it was an insult to be asked to bend his knee before anything had been achieved, and to an Ore, no less. Tobias, showing remarkable restraint, said that Florent would be bending the knee to Florie first and foremost, and he should be willing to do that. Florent challenged that if he was to pledge to Gardener, that they stop the pretense of other names, and take up Gardener in truth. Florie agreed that they would, had been ready to discard what little secrecy they had left already. She asked Zel and Cyril to get the Gardener colors ready. Defeated on that front, Florent turned to Tobias, and said that he would only swear if Tobias made the same oath of loyalty. Florie watched as her husband nearly laughed, and assured that he would gladly swear once again to serve her. Then he sobered, and motioned them outside. They would swear, he said, under the skies. Florent stopped, frowning at this, and Florie blinked at him, and said that it was the way of their Faith. It was clear that Florent thought their belief quaint, but she didn't mind. She didn't need him to believe the same. She just needed him to swear. And so Florent, along with Toby, swore to serve her as Queen. Florie, more thrilled than she liked to admit at hearing the supplication, told him to rise as the Hand of the Gardeners.

She arranged with Florent for his forces to meet hers outside of Highgarden in a month's time. She spent that month making plans, trying to make every small advantage bend to her will.

There was still no word from Dorne.

Cyril
§

At last, it was time to make the move on Highgarden. Cyril was as keenly aware of the risks as anyone, but could not permit himself to believe they might fail. The uncertainty might weaken them, and he knew that the others looked to him for guidance. Still, Highgarden was every bit as impressive as memory served, and though their manufactured famine had just started to hit hard enough to worry the city, it was not as weakened as all that. They had to hope that getting easily past the walls would give them the edge they needed. They gathered with Florent's forces, and then lit the bonfire that was their signal to the women inside the walls. They led the battle inside, and fought hard, but Highgarden's forces were no small thing, and the first day, they were driven back outside the walls again, forced to retreat to a safe distance and regroup. From the top of the wall, guards called down until Florie and Tobias came forward, and said that Lord Tyrell offered amnesty for their army if the two of them would turn themselves over to the King's justice. They refused, of course, and that was the end of any talks.

They still had some people on the inside, but it would not be enough, and Cyril could see their forces disheartened by how easy it had seemed for the Tyrells to push them back. Cyril considered, and decided that he would burn a green hand into the hillside, to worry their opponents and give a bit of heart to their own forces. The scope of what he had in mind, though, he could not do alone. He knew that Florie and Toby were talking with Drezielle, getting ready to send her over the wall with her group, to spend the next two days making trouble in the city, stirring up dissent. When Zel finished talking to them, Cyril called her over and drew her aside. He said she would need her and one or two of her most discreet people to help him, and then he risked telling her his secret. He talked about how he had been making the green fires, and watched her expression change. It was a little disappointing, she said, but not surprising. And she would help him. A green hand burned on one side of the city while Zel scaled the wall on the other side.

In the morning, a thin blanket of snow covered the ground. They began preparing for a couple of days of healing and repairs before moving again. The next battle would be the last, Cyril knew. Winter was here, and Florie's resolve was that she would take Highgarden or die in the attempt. And Tobias would protect her, or die trying. Cyril and Zel would do their best to serve them, and they would fail or fall with their lord and lady.

They were assembling, somewhat bleakly in the snow, when there was a noise over the hillside. As they turned to look, they saw hundreds of men, many on fine horses, and at their head was a dark-skinned, handsome young man dressed in clothing entirely unsuitable for the weather. He rode forward, and introduced himself as Prince Elias Martell, son of Dorian Martell, current leader of Dorne. He greeted them with a grin and asked Florie if she truly meant what she had written. She said she did, and Elias grinned more widely, and said there was one more concession they required. Her firstborn, if a boy, would be fostered with the Martells, and if a girl, would be engaged to one. Florie glanced to her husband, then dipped her head and said it would be done. Elias laughed and grabbed her around the waist, kissing her full on the lips, and said they were allied.

Tobias frowned a bit, but he stepped forward to put a hand on Florie's back. "You must be cold," he said.

"No," Elias told him, "For the battle fire runs hot in our veins."

Toby's lips quirked. "Oh. I thought to invite you into Highgarden."

And then Cyril had archers to command, and they gave their signal, and the armies of Dorne flooded into the city with them. Cyril watched the Tyrells fall before them. Luthor Tyrell was killed in battle, and Lady Olenna taken hostage. Florie stepped into the castle and demanded that Olenna be brought before her. She said that Lady Tyrell would be locked away, deep in the dark, and maybe trotted out to see Florie's success. Cyril watched the girl he had seen frightened and uncertain not so long before backhand the Queen of Thorns across the face, and take Toby's hand to walk together to their new thrones.

Cyril stepped over behind them, and Zel did the same. Cyril wasn't certain what his place would be in this new order, but he knew he had what he had promised himself long before. The world would know his name.

Ch. 2 - Home to Roost

Tobias
§

Tobias knew that Florie was troubled, but he couldn't comfort her as much as she wanted him to. He could not tell her his thoughts on The Seven. And so he left her sleeping early in the m1. Albuquorning, and went to the top of the tower, and prayed on his own. He held onto his charm, studied the seven glittering bits caught in the copper wire, and thought how things had gone right for him when he had listened to the heresies. On the fifth morning of waking up alone, though, Florie found him there, and she asked him what he was doing. Watching the sunrise, he told her, not wanting to have a fight. Just watching the sunrise. Toby had never been the best liar, though, and Florie didn't believe them. "What is that in your hand?" she demanded.

"Nothing," Toby lied. "Come, let's go get some breakfast."

"Fine," she said, not moving. "Let's go."

After a couple minutes of fruitlessly trying to get Florie to go ahead, and her demanding to know what he was keeping from her, Toby saw what it was coming to. Frustrated, Toby threw the charm so it hit her square in the chest, and fell to the ground. Florie picked it up, and stared at him, and Toby could hardly stand to see the expression in her eyes. Then she tried to walk away, and he called after her that she was a coward if she couldn't face the truth she'd asked for. The fight began in earnest, then. Florie yelled that she had been following the will of the Seven and to commit heresy against them was unthinkable, and Toby yelled that everything good that had happened to them had been in line with the so-called heresies. He told her she was a fool if she couldn't see it, and furthermore, that she had even comitted the heresy of the Maiden by giving herself to him for love. They went back and forth, and at last Toby left her at the top of the tower, and stormed to get his sword and saddle a fast horse. He needed to be away, away from his wife and his unwanted responsibilities. So he rode out and through the valley, with no particular goal in mind. He interrupted some hunters, and his anger dissipated with the slight embarrassment of having missed them, hiding in the grass as they were. Not long after that, Corwin caught up to him, earnest and concerned, and without any other good options, he let the boy come with him. He found a tavern and bought ale for them both, telling Corwin gruffly that he could have half.

There was a commotion outside, and annoyed by the noise, Tobias went outside. He saw two of the traveling people being pushed by a small group of people towards a tree, and the ringleader of the group was carrying a length of rope. Toby stopped them, demanding to know what was going on. They were punishing heretics, the crowd said, and Toby's features hardened. As their lord, he commanded them to stop, and said that in his lands, people could worship as they liked. In silence, he freed the two and took them into the tavern. He talked to them for a while, and assured them he was of their faith, and offered his hospitality to them. They talked as they went home, traveling slowly because Corwin had managed to get rather drunk. He settled them in at home, and learned from the others that Florie had not come down from the tower. He would, he resolved with a heavy heart, send her home to her father the moment she asked. They went in the afternoon to retrieve the cart the young couple had been in when the mob attacked, and then Toby went to one of the rooms to slump into a chair, brooding, trying not to think of Florie.

When it was just getting dark, she stepped into the room, her features pale. "Tobias," she said softly, and he didn't look at her.

"I'll send you home," he said. "To your father. You will be blameless." And Toby would be killed as a heretic.

"I don't want to go home," she said, and he looked at her at last. "I thought today, as I stood at the top of the tower. And I listened. And you were right. All of the signs from the gods have happened out in the world, not in the sept. And if I accept that they have guided me, I must accept this new faith."

Without another thought, Tobias smiled and lifted her into his arms.

Drezielle
§

Drezielle had spent an anxious day worrying over Tobias and Florie, worrying at the way Florie stood immobile at the top of the tower, refusing food, and drink and even a cloak to combat the growing chill. Things were, she thought grimly, over. She didn't know where she would end up. But then Florie descended, and went to talk to Tobias, and suddenly they were laughing. There might be hope after all.

In the morning, they all dined with the two travelers, and the man explained that they had not even meant to be in these lands, since it was close to here his sister had been attacked as she traveled with her parents. She had been saved by a knight and his friends, he said. They pulled out the charms they had been given, and showed him, and he said it was indeed his mother's work. Fate had brought him here, he said. Zel noticed that Florie seemed to have regained a keenness in her expression, and it was clear that now she was plotting again. Tobias talked about being willing to fight for their beliefs, and when they had finished with breakfast, Toby and Florie took Zel and Cyril aside and the planning began fresh.

They had always lacked support, and there was no way that they could rally an army from the people of their lands. But now they had something they could use-- the defense of what believers called the True Faith. Those of the Faith were facing extermination, and now that even Florie accepted the new beliefs, they could provide a haven and leadership. They had a great deal to do. The first thing was to establish a presence, and eventually a link between the reclaimation of the Gardener heritage and the True Faith. They would also need to spread the word, quietly, that their lands would harbor those facing persecution. Over the next month, Zel went on numerous small missions to neighboring lands. Her job was to spread the Gardener symbol, a green handprint, as well as caricatures of septons and other symbols supporting the new faith. Zel was also charged with putting these things in unlikely places, and she snuck where she could to do so. People were starting to move into the land, and next, Florie set her sights on her former home. Without Felsward land, and the resources it offered, they were still far too weak to make their move on Highgarden, even though they intended something more secretive than an all-out war. They planned a trip for the end of the month, and Florie seemed resolute that she would convince her father to support the cause, or do what must be done if he would not.

Florie
§

Now that Florie's conversion was complete, she felt renewed, as if she were at last seeing clearly those things that had been obscured before. Her day in the chill on Tynker Tower, staring over the land and listening to the birds and the wind, had made her realize everything she supported meant supporting what she had thought to be heresy. She was right, though, she knew, so it could not be heresy, not in the eyes of The Seven. Now, she knew things that must be done, and she could not permit herself to waver.

Florie tried not to let her nerves overtake her as she traveled with the others to see her father. She would have to resolve to fight him if he would not act with them, come what may. The others were tense too, she could tell, but it was plenty warranted. She was pointing them on what was swiftly becoming a revolution. She had originally thought to take Highgarden from the Tyrells, to use that seat of power to force the other major families to accept the shift. But now they seemed to be drawing a firmer line, and she had to accept that now, achieving their goal would mean a major split in Westeros. The kingdoms had been united by force, after all, and what they were promising was a return to older ways, to a world where Gardeners had been kings and queens of the Reach, a time before the forced merging of the kingdoms. It was a heady thought, but when Blackbane hove into view, something in Florie shrank back. Not so long ago, she had been a little girl chasing butterflies in the fields here. Now, she was pretending to have power she did not, rebelling against every authority she had grown up with. She did her best to steel herself as their party was admitted carefully into Blackbane.

She started talking with her father, and from the beginning, it did not go well. Garon was offended by the request, because it implied that they were not being subservient to him, their lord. Florie tried to sidestep it, but it was a sticking point for him. She was going to take another tactic when she had a shock. Jonys showed up at the door asking if there were guests, and the way he stared and felt his way into the room showed him to be mostly blind. Garon said the Maester should look to him. Jonys no longer bled, he said, but now he could barely see. Florie hugged her older brother carefully. Like everything here, he seemed diminished, and not just because of his ailments. She steeled herself, and told her father again that the uprising was coming, and that she would be at the front of it, as the Seven had guided her. Her father spat something about the heresy, and tried to persuade her that Argent would hate her for her sins. Florie couldn't help it; she lost what calm she had, and they were nearly shouting at each other when at last it was too much for her. She put her head in her hands, in tears. "You're right," she mumbled. "Of course you're right."

"Florie!" Toby hissed.

She knew everyone was looking at her, but she could barely breathe for tears. How could she have thought she could really go through with this?

Cyril
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Cyril knew he could not permit Florie to let her father think he had won here, but the girl wouldn't seem to listen to anyone now. He could not help her until the situation was changed, and luckily he knew how to do it. Though he had helped in the last month of planning, he had also spent time alone with his kits, working out a few secrets he knew he should have. Florie and Tobias were ardently faithful, and though Cyril would not make the mistake of calling his friends credulous, he knew that religion made people inclined to believe what they might not otherwise. Cyril knew you couldn't count on distant gods, even the more personable variations promised by the "true faith," for the signs their followers craved. To motivate a group of believers, especially one being asked to go to war, miracles might be necessary. Cyril did not believe there were any miracles, and perhaps there never had been. But he did know arts that would appear miraculous, and he set to work to make sure that for his lord and lady, he could secretly produce miraculous occurrences.

Now, with Florie a wreck and Garon looking a touch triumphant, Cyril reached discreetly into one of his pockets and took out a small jar. Behind him was the fireplace, and deftly, he emptied the jar's contents into the fire. The flames suddenly flared brilliant green, and slowly, everyone's attention turned to the firelight. "It's a sign," Cyril said, voice certain. "Look, the gods speak even now, the fire burns Gardener green."

Garon stared, and Cyril could see he had taken the bait. They could change the situation now. Garon surged up, and said that he saw now, that he would use the miraculous fire to purge Blackbane of its curse. He thrust a torch into the flames and went down the hall to Vallya's room, and through it, to her garden. He set the drying plants ablaze, and then began taking her things and fueling them into the fire. Cyril helped, and as he did so, he dosed the fire with more of his powder so it would keep its color. The others helped fling things in, and they muttered conversation as they passed one another. Could Garon be trusted to change? This was a step, but he could lose his nerve and turn them all in before they could fight back. Florie managed to compose herself a little, but Cyril didn't trust her for level-headed decisions, not in this house, with her family. He agreed very quietly with Toby. Something should be done.

Jonys came to watch in the doorway, to ask about what was going on. Florie explained, haltingly, but then turned to watch as the last of her mother's things were flung into the fire. Garon went and stood in front of it, his features tinted strangely in the green light. This was the chance to make it all fit, Cyril knew. He would have to trust Tobias and Zel to do what was needed to help. Suddenly, he looked past Florie, as if in alarm. "Jonys!" Nothing was wrong, of course, but Zel, quick on the uptake, rushed to him, tripping him up a bit so he stumbled. Florie turned, eyes wide, to her brother, and as Zel distracted her and they fussed over Jonys, Cyril saw Tobias step close behind Garon before he could wonder what was happening and put a hand over his mout and the other around his shoulders. He wrenched Garon's head around and Cyril was close enough to hear a snap.

Then Toby pushed Felsward into the fire and stepped back, reaching out false astonishment. "Lord Felsward!" They told Florie and Jonys that he had stepped into the fire as if suddenly compelled. It was a neat story, and if Florie could believe it, one that would leave her guiltless. Now their goal was accomplished. Jonys, though technically lord, would be a puppet, malleable in their hands. Felsward lands were theirs.

Ch. 1 - Foundation

Tobias
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Toby awoke much too early with Florie shaking him. He tried to pull the covers further over his head, to sleep more. But Florie called his name again and reluctantly, he blinked his eyes open and asked what the matter was. She said that petitioners had been arriving since the first night, and now there was a crowd of commoners who wanted to speak with their new lord. "You should talk to them, Florie," Toby said, a little panicked. "You're better at it."

"I can't," Florie insisted as she hurried to dress. "You are their lord. You have to talk to them."

Unhappily, Toby got dressed too. He didn't want this, didn't know how to be a lord. Knighthood, he knew, and fighting, and hunting. Not speeches and politics. He didn't know what was expected from him. Florie sent for Cyril and Zel, and they all went to the top of the tower, coaching Toby in what to say as they went. He just had to introduce himself, to reassure his people that the times of uncertainty were over, that the raiders were gone. At the top of the tower, with so many people staring at him, he nearly forgot everything he should say. But he managed a speech with all of those points in it, and he got through it. The people cheered, but it was clear he had not yet won them. They'd had too many years of poor rule to be swayed immediately. He said he would hold audiences, and hoped to just get the day over with.

He and the others settled in in the main hall of the tower, listening to various complaints. Many were easily dealt with, but a few stood out as larger problems. One was a long-standing land feud, and the way the three men involved talked of it, and the way others were paying attention to them, it was clear that if Toby could solve this, he would be better than the others. The next important matter was the Miller's daughter, who was just old enough to be into womanhood, and who came with two smaller children, her siblings. She explained that the raiders had killed her parents, and burned part of the mill, and although the mill was being rebuilt, the millstone had cracked in the heat of the fire. Toby didn't need her explanation to know that it was vital to the whole area that a new stone be found. One of the last petitioners was a big, bearded man who looked used to hard work, and he introduced himself as a farmer, and raised the issue that in the drought, animals had been killed and eaten, and he begged of his lord two new breeding animals. He could not give much, he said, but he had one thing. At his word, a boy shuffled forward. The man introduced him as his second son Mark, and said that for the animals, he would pledge the boy into Toby's service. Toby waited for Florie to nod almost imperceptibly, and agreed. The boy was young, not much older than Corwin, but it was clear from his now-lanky body that he would grow to be as towering as his father. A short while later, they were thankfully done with the petitioners, and now had to work out a course of action.

Cyril
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Maester Cyril had taken notes as Florie asked, and heard all the petitioning. He saw the others acting for the first time as fully autonomous figures of authority, and saw Toby's discomfort. And he saw something else, something that didn't quite sit well with him. They were acting as lord and lady, and he was acting as an employee. There was no hint of the closeness they had all developed. It was like they had now put up walls that had not been there before, and worse, it seemed that if Florie was planning anything, she wasn't sharing it. She said nothing to him as they talked about finding a reliable way to split the disputed land, and Cyril went alone to the town smith to comission a chain that they could use to measure by. It was all so mundane, like the lofty goals of before had been forgotten. But he did his duty and kept silent. He watched as Tobias and Florie sent for a millstone from the town with the Felsward iron mines, then sent men to purchase a great number of breeding livestock. Tobias and Florie knew they would have to shore up their defenses, so they offered animals in return for sons being turned over to serve as soldiers.

A week went by, and it was filled with the simple minutiae of running Tynker and its lands. Then the measuring chain was ready, and they all travelled to the disputed farms. Cyril did his best to put aside his irritation at ordinary surveying, and to be patient with them. Toby and Florie were young, and clearly a little overwhelmed. Maybe now that they were on the road again, their greater goal would come back into focus. The land around Tynker got more beautiful the further into it they got. It was grassy and full of little streams and brooks, and would recover well into fine, fertile land. He could see the temptation here, that this place was a comfortable holding, if not prosperous now, then easy enough to make it so. He wondered if the others, frightened by ambition, would want to stop here.

Then they arrived at the farms, and Cyril's business was the tedious task of parceling out the land and hearing the suspicions of the farmers. Even though all the men agreed to the conditions set by their lord and lady, and agreed to abide by the new parceling, it was clear that each was seeking an advantage for himself. One of them invited the party to stay the night, and not knowing enough to be politic about it, Tobias agreed. That had the others muttering about favoritism, and one of them tried to get Cyril to favor him. Cyril met his attempts impassively, though. None of these men could offer him anything of import. He finished his task, a little disgusted at having to deal with such small matters. Maybe now, they could get something real done.

Drezielle
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Zel left the others to their politics, for the most part. She had helped Florie and Tobias purchase all the livestock they were repopulating the land with, in return for land promised to her. A good deal of it had been left empty due to attacks by the raiders, and after winter, it would once again be fine, fertile soil. It was a good trade, and a good fallback if, in the end, she was left with nothing else. She would, she knew, just keep going along, working things to her best advantage, as she'd always tried to do. She enjoyed the hospitality of the farmers they stayed with, and heartily approved of Toby's plan in the morning to breakfast with each of the three families. Toby, who was still enough of a boy to have an appetite for it, grinned his way through three breakfasts, and ended with all three families feeling better about the entire arrangement. Zel enjoyed this kind of diplomacy-- one that didn't involve complicated plans, and did involve lots of food.

They camped on their way back to Tynker, and that night, Corwin came to her tent. He looked anxious, and asked if she could sleep. Zel made sure all of her boys' clothing was well in place, and let him in, refraining from snapping that she had already been mostly asleep. Corwin was clearly anxious, and as he talked to her, it became clear that he was anxious that with Toby's new responsibilities, he would lose his place with his knight. Zel tried to reassure him, saying that there was no way Toby would forget about him, and that she was sure Corwin would stay by his side. The boy wasn't certain, still, but it was enough to get him to sleep.

The next day, back at Tynker, even with things there going well, there was tension. Toby was having to decide how many of Lord Felsward's forces to send back, and how many he could safely keep for longer, while they tried to gather their own forces. Florie was engrossed in overseeing her sept being built, and Cyril seemed unhappy. Wanting something to go a little better, Zel went and talked to Toby, bringing up Corwin's anxieties. They decided to take Corwin and the new boy, Mark, and train in the courtyard. It would also serve the purpose of giving Zel more familiarity with a sword without so much danger of exposing her gender. Toby seemed more comfortable this way, happier in the elements he was familiar with. But after a time, Cyril came to speak with Toby, and Zel saw his expression darken again as they talked.

Florie
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Florie was praying at the site where the sept was being built, trying to gain the calm and focus that her prayers had come to bring her. Hands clasped, she stared at the empty spaces where the Seven would reside, and she whispered familiar words, asking for guidance. She noticed she was not alone, and she turned, seeing Cyril standing a bit behind her. He apologized for interrupting her at prayer, but she shook her head, and moved close to speak to him. He started talking of house matters, but it was clear something else was on his mind. Then he said something about whatever plots she was not sharing, and Florie saw what had been bothering him. She drew a breath, and said that there was nothing she had not shared with him and that she knew the danger this new home held, the danger of becoming complacent, of letting their goals slip out of reach. Cyril was a little relieved, she could tell, but he still held himself stiffly, still talked with a reservedness he normally kept for others. Florie tried not to be stung by it. Both of them had ambition that stretched well beyond their experience, and both of them knew just how much was at stake. Florie promised she would write to Florent, and would think about what to do. Then she asked him, haltingly, if he would speak with Toby, because he'd been bothered by something, and wouldn't tell her what. Cyril agreed to talk to him, but offered no comfort. Florie supposed that neither of them could afford it right now.

She slept fitfully that night, and felt the cold stealing in through the windows.

She was walking with her husband, through their new, lush lands. Fall was taking over, but it was not unpleasant, and there was still growth around them. In fact, up the side of a cliff face, there was a heartbreakingly beautiful rosebush, with the roses in full bloom. Florie pointed them out to Toby. She had to have one. Without a second thought, Toby climbed a way up the cliff to try and reach the roses. The cliff face was too sheer, though, and he couldn't make it up. Undaunted, he ran off and returned with armfuls of lumber and stones, and piled them against the cliff. They added little height, though, so he brought Corwin, who stood on his shoulders and reached in vain for the flowers. They both left, and returned with Cyril and Zel, who started helping to build a scaffolding of sorts, and they came back with men to help build. Every so often, Toby would climb the scaffold to see if it was high enough. It got dark, and it got cold. Florie could see frost starting to form on the sides of the scaffolding. It was entirely frost-rimed by the time Toby tried climbing again, and Florie couldn't tell him it was too dangerous. He reached, straining, as his fingers brushed the leaves of the bush. But the frost made him slip, and the scaffold was high. He could not catch himself, and he fell all the way down. Florie ran forward, and the others vanished, and she could only see Tobias's broken form. She knelt by him, sobbing, as snow began to fall.

She awoke in tears, and freezing cold besides. She pressed herself against Tobias, and he woke, staring at her in concern. She told him about the dream, and said she didn't want her ambition to make her lose him. "We just didn't do it right in your dream," Toby said, stroking her hair. "And I'm alive. See? I'm fine. I'll be fine."

In the morning, Florie was still cold, and she wrapped a cloak around herself as they ate breakfast with the others. Once she had a warm drink in her, she shared the dream with them too, and listened as the others discussed what it might mean. It showed, Cyril said, that they needed a plan, a firm one, that took them all the way to the end. And they all agreed that if they could not succeed by winter, they would not succeed at all.