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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Oct 29, 2019 23:56:17 GMT 1
The Levalle presence at Whitegrove was understated to be sure, and it was the words of the Maester that seemed to cause greater ripples than any other member of that curious menagerie.
Lynesse knew he was kin to her, of a sort, though the barriers of bastardry and the Maester's Chain made such a link threadbare at most, and service to the Levalle's rendered it more of a curiosity than the bedrock of loyalty that kinship ought be.
Still, curiosity was enough for Lynesse, and she sought him out at one of the minor gatherings in the aftermath of the many speeches concerning the Fire Cause's agenda.
Her dress was formal and reserved, doing little to emphasise her natural beauty, but enough to serve as a gentle reminder of her status as the granddaughter of a ruling lord.
"Maester Rhaegor? I do hope you forgive my presumption, but I was hoping we might speak, for a time?" she asked, offering a respectful curtsy to the Maester.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Oct 30, 2019 0:46:19 GMT 1
Rhaegor paused, his eyes scanning the person before him. It didn't take long for his eyes to come back to meet hers, his stare seeming to look past hers and into her secrets. He doesn't smile, but doesn't scowl either. His face is slightly hardened, giving it a stone like nature that remained constant as he spoke, "Lady Lynesse Daverhyl. I wondered if our paths would cross at this juncture; though, it seems that you took the initiative I had yet to plan for."
He gave her a slight bow, similar in nature to the curtsy she gave him: respectful. His hands slid back into his black robes, disappearing amongst the folds. The maester was anything but plain, and despite his occupation, he lived in luxury, and his dress was as formal as it could be before passing into the territory of garish and eye-catching. The chain around his shoulders falls just above his navel, and every link holds a significant meaning to Rhaegor, though, the slight clink that emitted at every shift had become a constant reminder to him that his station is not where it could be, where it should be. These other dragons were roaming free, while he?
Well... that had yet to be fully determined.
He glanced around, the wide open space of their meeting was something he didn't like, especially with his already active snooping and inciting he had already done. He stared back again at Lynesse, "Would you like to take this somewhere else? I am sure refreshment and a comfortable seat would be preferred over the.." He let out a slight sigh, staring at the others in the area, either their weapons or body covered in the blood of boar, "Boar den that we find ourselves occupying?"
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Oct 30, 2019 7:21:22 GMT 1
He was quick of wit and well spoken, but not overbearing with that intelligence; willing to acknowledge the merit of others. Both endearing traits, Lynesse mused to herself.
"Perhaps, we should, Maester Rhaegor, but I often find that amidst such a flurry of fierce masculinity, a handful of discrete pleasantries are often overlooked, providing a privacy all of its own. And how would these fine knights and lords cope, without blushing beauties to faint at the sight of their trophies, and men of learning to nod sagely at their youthly vigour? What use is such a spectacle without we, the spectators?" Her tone was gently mocking, though not of Rhaegor.
"Doubly so with so few men as learned as you in attendance," and indeed, Whitegrove had proven to be an affair of knights and ladies, rather than Septons and Maesters. "Lord Alliser has a reputation for drawing into his service of unusual talent and ability, and your diligent attendance upon him here seems to lend further credence to it. I hope he rewards you well for your efforts."
"No, no, we must remain, lest these fierce bucks feel abandoned without us,"
"I had had hoped we might speak more of your siblings," Lynesse remarked, with a slight emphasis on the word "more" "for I have heard many praise one over the other. Bittersteel. Blackfyre. Wildfyre. Bloodraven. Seastar. Fierce names all, befitting the age of heroes more than our own. Often one is weighed against the other, but rarely does one offer a broader opinion on the social phenomenon they represent." She seems to hint at a shared secret or intimacy, being polite enough not to bring it up directly, but offering Rhaegor the chance to seize the initiative.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Oct 30, 2019 8:41:03 GMT 1
"Perhaps, we should, Maester Rhaegor, but I often find that amidst such a flurry of fierce masculinity, a handful of discrete pleasantries are often overlooked, providing a privacy all of its own. And how would these fine knights and lords cope, without blushing beauties to faint at the sight of their trophies, and men of learning to nod sagely at their youthly vigour? What use is such a spectacle without we, the spectators?" Her tone was gently mocking, though not of Rhaegor. Rhaegor nodded, glancing once more at the room. As the wine made its way round the chamber, meeting goblets, before crashing into lips and being consumed, he let loose a small breath through his nose, a subtle laugh that he had performed over and over again throughout his life. Though, to the unobservant, he remained unamused, his face giving no indication to any change in his emotions. He continued to watch the festivities as he spoke, eyes never stopping at one location for more than a moment, "Truly a successful outing, for these fine knights and lords. The glory that comes with a hunt shouldn't go overlooked, many have made a name for themselves in events such as these. Ser Roland Redwyne, for example, received his namesake title at such an event." He turned back to face her, "And while they are busy reveling in their success, the blushing beauties and men of learning are making strides towards real progress, and sharing meetings that will change the lives of many, not just the honor of one." His tone matched hers, a stab at the celebration and its participants. "Doubly so with so few men as learned as you in attendance," and indeed, Whitegrove had proven to be an affair of knights and ladies, rather than Septons and Maesters. "Lord Alliser has a reputation for drawing into his service of unusual talent and ability, and your diligent attendance upon him here seems to lend further credence to it. I hope he rewards you well for your efforts."
"No, no, we must remain, lest these fierce bucks feel abandoned without us," she laughed, though in truth with so many in attendance, both the young maid and Maester went largely unremarked. Maester Rhaegor smiled briefly, accepting her compliment, "My Lord Allister has a reputation for many things, I am glad to know that, even amongst the most virtuous of ladies, his shortcomings are not superseded by his talent." He gives a soft bow, another small breath escaping his nose, "The fierce bucks should appreciate such care and attention to their well being that you are showing them. I am sure that your disappearance from the room wouldn't go unnoticed; a beautiful rose plucked from any floral arrangement makes the rest seem lackluster."
"I had had hoped we might speak more of your siblings," Lynesse remarked, with a slight emphasis on the word "more" "for I have heard many praise one over the other. Bittersteel. Blackfyre. Wildfyre. Bloodraven. Seastar. Fierce names all, befitting the age of heroes more than our own. Often one is weighed against the other, but rarely does one offer a broader opinion on the social phenomenon they represent." She seems to hint at a shared secret or intimacy, being polite enough not to bring it up directly, but offering Rhaegor the chance to seize the initiative.
Rhaegor's brow furrowed slightly, realizing the nature of her question. And while his actions against the Great Bastards had been subtle, and covered in many layers of protection, she seemed to be hinting at something she didn't fully understand. This was a new game of mental chess, and despite his efforts to not engage others before understanding their strategy and previous moves, Lady Lynesse managed to seize an opportunity he wasn't anticipating, and had made quite a bold opener. Though, anticipation has nothing to do with preparation, and Rhaegor was prepared for anything. His tone was flat, not rude, simply matter of fact, "The Great Bastards are certainly quite the phenomenon. Each of them, as you have named, have earned reputations befitting of their actions. Impressive blade work from most, though, the same could be said for any of the knights here, not just Blackfyre or Wildfyre. And while the Seastar is a beauty, to be sure, that description does not encapsulate the power she herself holds." he shrugs slightly, the chain's shift causing soft rattling, "But I find no particular interest in one over the other. As a maester it is my duty to record the history of this time, set aside my previous life and dedicate my new one to the realm and the preservation of names and accomplishments; I see no reason to admire one over the other." He remained cool and level as he spoke, not giving any way to purge himself of anything. |
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Oct 30, 2019 10:43:32 GMT 1
Lynesse was unsurprised when Rhaegor refused her bait on the Great Bastards. Effortlessly, she segued into another line of conversation. Perhaps in time they might return to that morsel, perhaps not. In its place, she offered another dish.
It must be a difficult thing to set aside one's name and family, Lynesse mused. Especially when the Seven Pointed Star teaches that we ought honour and revere our ancestors, and learn from their wisdom and piety. But then I might hazard the opinion that it is the Maester's who allow us to do such learning, for they record the wisdom and learning of ages past, and distil it into a potent admixture of historical record for those among us who have ears to hear.
"Perhaps this is why the gods saw fit to raise up the Citadel in Oldtown, the center of the Faith, that men might always remember that knowledge is of the gods, and that in its service, the Maesters fulfill a holy vocation." Her words were filled with an honest respect, for in truth, she had enjoyed her studies, and oft availed herself of the private libraries of this Lord or that.
She glanced up for the first time, meeting his gaze for the first time, unblinkingly. But still, to take leave of one's name and family is a heavy burden. Were it not for that chain of yours, we might account one another as second cousins, as your grandfather Lord Jon was brother to my grandmother Lady Laena Hightower. Again there was a sense that Lynesse offered a dish to Rhaegor, to taste, savour, or refuse as he saw fit. She would not claim kinship with him if he was intent on denying it, and would not hold his Maester's chain or oath against him for it.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Oct 31, 2019 1:37:25 GMT 1
Rhaegor brought his shoulders to his ears, head tilting softly to one side as his eyes closed, "I lost nothing but a bastard's name the day I took my oath. If it weren't for the Citadel, I don't imagine that I would be at this event, talking to you." He relaxed again, he tone cool, "The knowledge and respect I have for my ancestors goes beyond my bloodline, and certainly above the name I once had. The Targaryen name causes lots of emotions to come to the surface, as well as horror stories of dragons and their prowess that came with over 50 feet of height and destruction from a firebreather. They have earned a dynasty that has lasted for ages, and it wasn't until recently that their worth was in question."
He nodded slightly at the mention of their connection, "I had wondered if our lineages were aligned. House Hightower is a powerful name in its own right, and makes the noblest of lords and ladies, and I believed I read something about that at one point in time: how the Daverhyls connected to Lord Jon through his sister." He smiled slightly at her, "And, while my oath tells me to cast aside my past and family, that doesn't meant that I am barred from getting to know them. I find that there is something about bloodlines that cause a lasting connection, and certainly will never turn away an opportunity to make connections with worthy members of my bloodline."
Rhaegor turned away from her slightly to grab a goblet of wine from a passerby, offering one to his compatriot, "The Lord Jon died too early, and under... difficult circumstances. Did you know him well?" he brought his up to his lips, taking a small sip before holding it in front of his chest.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Oct 31, 2019 4:40:18 GMT 1
Did she? Not half as much as she thought, she decided. She took the cup offered her, and sipped slowly to give herself time to think through a response.
"Not well, though we were certainly acquainted. I was a handmaid in Oldtown for two years with the Hightowers, but as a child, and the daughter of a banner house, I remained an outsider where confidences were concerned. He ruled well, to my mind, and was stern, but seldom callous or cruel. Few Lords have as complex a domain as House Hightower, and few other than the great Houses have as complex a network of allies and bannermen to navigate." Her words seem almost to defend Lord Jon, as if there is some wrong in Lynesse's mind that she is doing her best to forgive him, though she had not yet managed to do so.
"His death remains a crime unanswered," Lynesse remarked, "and one that has thrown House Hightower into all manner of disarray. Should you seek their acquaintance you may not find them at their best or usual selves. I do hope they are able to make peace among themselves, for the Hightowers have ever been a bulwark of the Reach, and the vultures are circling," she laughed, a little nervously, perhaps at a private joke.
"And what of your hopes, Rhaegor? Or must you doff them as you don your chain and vows as well?" her tone is playful once again, leaving Rhaegor to take the question as a jest or serious inquiry, as he will.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Nov 1, 2019 1:09:34 GMT 1
She was asking a lot of questions. The young Daverhyl was charming, certainly, and was a suitable chess partner, but he doesn't know as much as he would like to about her, especially since she is gathering information with each question she asked, one after the other. He had no intent of laying all his cards on the table, no matter how she asked about the hand he was dealt. So, he would dance around the question, and instead hope to turn the same to her.
He raised a quisitive brow, "My hopes?" he took another small drink from his goblet, shaking his head softly as he spoke, "I hope for peace in the realm. I hope that The Seven blesses us all with long lives, filled with short winters and long summers. I hope that I can die old and filled with accomplishment. I hope for the coming battles to end in little to no bloodshed, and that the disagreements between the Blackwoods and Brackens need not be another bloody war of history that I have to write about." he shrugged, looking over the room, "I hope that the people in attendance all have safe rides to their keeps, and that there isn't another attack on the road like the one that happened shortly after Whitewalls." He mentioned the attack on the Starkwood boy to see her reaction, gauge her opinion on the affair. After doing so, he asked curiously, just as playfully as she did, "And your hopes, Lady Lynesse? Im sure if a man of chain can have some, a lady of your virtue must have plenty."
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Nov 1, 2019 7:27:43 GMT 1
His expressed hopes were generous and uncontroversial in every respect; Lynesse was sure she had not heard all, and certainly not the most important, of what Rhaegor on the subject.
Lynesse smiled at his mention of virtue, for in truth she expected the man knew little of her, and if he listened to rumour, was likely to have heard as many lies as truths concerning her.
"How could one argue with such magnanimous aspirations? I share them, of course, but perhaps I should learn from your generous heart, for I often find my mind turning to my own concerns and family," Lynesse conceded. "My brother is a boy of three and ten, full of the mischief of all younger siblings, but I would see him live and grow to manhood, and take up the reins of our house when the gods deem his time has come. I would see House Hightower return from the brink of internal conflict, and take up their cup as guardians of the Andals most valuable traditions. And perhaps," she spread her hands widely, as if trying to grasp at a wider idea, "I would pursue seek some small manner of peace in a realm that seems destined for war."
"Forgive me if my tone strikes you as melancholic, or my aspirations petty. I had heard some party leaving Whitewalls was accosted on the road, but heave heard little else besides. Who was assailed? I pay they took no great ill, for highwaymen and assassins each are vipers deserving the heel of some vicious boot." Lynesse's question seems to reflect both curiosity and idle concern, and her final comment seems to carry with it some personal venom.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Nov 2, 2019 1:01:17 GMT 1
"There is no fault in hoping for family, and certainly no damnation in having your own. Turbulent times cause even the most devout to worry for their previous life, though I imagine no woman or man of the cloth would admit it." he gave her a slight smile, the first real expression he has shown, "It is human to care about family, and your heart is just as if not more generous than mine for it"
His tone shifted to one of recollection, eyes narrowing slightly as he spoke, "A travelling party left Whitewalls and was attacked on the road by nearly 5 dozen bandits. The Blackbars, if I remember correctly, and the Starkwood boy. While the events of the ambush aren't as solidified, I have heard that it was a massacre. The boy and the young lady of the house were all that survived, and barely at that. Upon their return, the sight that was left was said to cause even Lord Caswell to shudder, and gave the Starkwood his spurs, knighted by Redtusk." he shrugged, shaking his head, "From what was left, it could be assumed that the attack was based on a hatred for the dornish. A prejudice that runs quite deep and rampant, even amongst members here," his voice had a hint of accusation to it, but it wasn't anything based on truth. He was simply acknowledging the nature of the world, and the event that they both partook in.
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Nov 3, 2019 4:45:11 GMT 1
"And what evidence.." Lynesse caught herself before she finished her question. With no other witnesses, it seemed that some manner of mutilation of the dead would be the most plausible evidence that one might conjure for prejudice being the sole motivation. He skin paled, and her mouth formed a slightly pinched 'O' before she was able to steel her demeanour.
"I will pray the gods bring their killers to justice," she promised, honestly, "for such misdeeds as these can never be excused, whatever the justification. My own parents were slain in a similar venture, so I trust that you appreciate the absolute contempt in which I hold such miscreants."
Her tone became softer, and more thoughtful, as she began to pluck at some loose threads in the Maester's report "I cannot help but wonder, though, what manner of story shall be told when all of the facts are solidified. I know little of the ways of war," she acknowledged, "but to move so many men through hostile lands without being observed implies the presence of logistical support - camp followers and scouts - that would bring the bandits closer to a hundred men than fifty. No bandit chieftain I have ever heard of could muster such a force, which would imply a noble house - or several - is responsible for the deed."
"And yet the choice of location, near Bitterbridge, is poorly suited to those houses with a pronounced reputation for despising the Dornish, such as Peake and Oakheart. Each would have a much easier time ambushing the Blackbar's farther into the reach, and closer to their own lands, for the Blackbar's seat of Bandallon is in the South. The road itself would have been choked with travellers from the tourney, which would not have been the case later on, once they had dispersed within the Reach, making the choice of location strange, to say the least."
And why go to the trouble of disguising such a large force as bandits, only to reveal one's true purpose through other evidence left behind?," Lynesse wondered aloud, "why bother with such a transparent ruse, if you intend to leave such a message for others, unless that message is also a ruse, which gains credibility from the presence of a more obvious conspiracy? Men often think they have gained the truth when they pierce a single layer of theatre, but such misdirection should serve as a warning of more to come."
Lynesse shrugged. "Perhaps bandits chose their mark based on prejudice rather than their own empty bellies. Or perhaps a large anti-Dornish House marched a hundred men across the Reach, undetected. Who can say? Perhaps the more pertinent question to ask concerns who benefits from this pruning of the limbs of the Blackbar succession?" Though her own biases were at play in developing her line of reasoning, Lynesse believed in this she had found the most practical line of inquiry, for such massacres often had a profound impact on the political landscape, and she doubted this one was intended to favour the anti-Dornish partisans who would likely be blamed for it.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Nov 8, 2019 2:15:44 GMT 1
"I will pray the gods bring their killers to justice," she promised, honestly, "for such misdeeds as these can never be excused, whatever the justification. My own parents were slain in a similar venture, so I trust that you appreciate the absolute contempt in which I hold such miscreants."
Rhaegor's eyes showed near pity for her, though he imagined she had no use for it, as he himself found pity to be a worthless endeavor. But empathy should be utilized, especially in the face of great loss. He nodded solemnly, not responding more than that; no point in opening wounds that might never heal. Her tone became softer, and more thoughtful, as she began to pluck at some loose threads in the Maester's report "I cannot help but wonder, though, what manner of story shall be told when all of the facts are solidified. I know little of the ways of war," she acknowledged, "but to move so many men through hostile lands without being observed implies the presence of logistical support - camp followers and scouts - that would bring the bandits closer to a hundred men than fifty. No bandit chieftain I have ever heard of could muster such a force, which would imply a noble house - or several - is responsible for the deed.""And yet the choice of location, near Bitterbridge, is poorly suited to those houses with a pronounced reputation for despising the Dornish, such as Peake and Oakheart. Each would have a much easier time ambushing the Blackbar's farther into the reach, and closer to their own lands, for the Blackbar's seat of Bandallon is in the South. The road itself would have been choked with travellers from the tourney, which would not have been the case later on, once they had dispersed within the Reach, making the choice of location strange, to say the least."And why go to the trouble of disguising such a large force as bandits, only to reveal one's true purpose through other evidence left behind?," Lynesse wondered aloud, "why bother with such a transparent ruse, if you intend to leave such a message for others, unless that message is also a ruse, which gains credibility from the presence of a more obvious conspiracy? Men often think they have gained the truth when they pierce a single layer of theatre, but such misdirection should serve as a warning of more to come."Lynesse shrugged. "Perhaps bandits chose their mark based on prejudice rather than their own empty bellies. Or perhaps a large anti-Dornish House marched a hundred men across the Reach, undetected. Who can say? Perhaps the more pertinent question to ask concerns who benefits from this pruning of the limbs of the Blackbar succession?" He nods again, listening to her words intently. The fact of the matter was, the evidence he received was inconclusive, at best, and certainly there were plenty of strings to pull the fabric of the truth apart by. And, while he didn't necessarily care about recounting the information, he did enjoy the enthusiasm that she shown for such a offhanded comment. If she wanted to talk about this, them he would indulge her wishes. "To be honest with you, your questions are investigating into some information that I have yet to come across in any of my books." He opened his hand in front of him, giving a slight bow, "A testament that beauty need not lack brain."
He straightened up, placing his finger to his lip as he stares off, "Infighting. Conspiracy. Prejudice. These are concepts not foreign to most, and certainly upon gathering this information I, too, was hesitant to believe that it was anything more than just that. A ruse. A lie to incite rage against the Bracken force, rally the troops against the anti-dornish rescheme and cause a push toward the front. Taking out the Blackbar banner from the force would be a loss, certainly, but not one they couldn't overcome with the new forces they have gathered from the loss. Rhaegor nodded again, "But, what if we are thinking on this too long? What if the culprits of this attack are not as smart as you, and are just interested in instilling fear? Despite the authenticity of the numbers, and the range from 40 to 150, do you think it would be hard to gather such a battalion behind someone with a known reputation of being skilled in battle and has a deep-rooted hatred?" Rhaegor let out a soft chuckle, gesturing to the room, "Certainly not, I imagine any one of the knights here could gather a force that would put many armies to shame. And by using that prejudice, I find it unlikely that any would argue against the cause, especially against a house as little as Blackbar. It would take a little bit of planning, but coin speaks loudly, too. Anyone can command an force with a bit of coin in their pocket, and people will move across continents for a chance at wealth."He let lose a sigh, rubbing his temples slightly, "I haven't put much thought into it, there hasn't been enough time to watch the fallout to properly assess who was to benefit from the house's unfortunate and certainly gruesome end. At the end of the day, someone took advantage of the peace we have found ourselves uncomfortably seated in. People are tense, and now that parties have been ambushed, I imagine the feelings on both sides are not too pleased, and the fallout might be larger than the creator anticipated," He looked to her, looking into her eyes, "The time of peace is over, I fear. I don't imagine I will see most of the parties here again." |
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Post by Lynesse Daverhyl on Nov 14, 2019 8:25:18 GMT 1
"Perhaps you are right," Lyness nodded thoughtfully. "Certainly a band bound together by nothing but coin and opportunism will turn on itself in time, and one among them will sell out the others for a pardon and reward. A just reward for unjust men," she nodded firmly.
"But the Blackbars are not the first house to suffer calamity in recent months. They are not the first to be left with a young ward in Highgarden as their heir. A precarious position for their house, and a stronger one for their liege, the Tyrells."
"I am saddened to think of such a violent end might befall so many good folk. I hope that I can play a part in mitigating whatever might befall us all, for I aldo believe there is much senseless slaughter to come. And if a general peace could not prevail, then I might pursue something more specific. An oasis in the desert perhaps," she mused. "But alas, one can find few allies for such a cause, as those who do not lust for war are often more circumspect and hard to find common ground with. Without such allies, there is little I can do of my own volition." She shrugged.
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Post by Maester Rhaegor on Dec 30, 2019 23:18:56 GMT 1
"Perhaps you are right," Lyness nodded thoughtfully. "Certainly a band bound together by nothing but coin and opportunism will turn on itself in time, and one among them will sell out the others for a pardon and reward. A just reward for unjust men," she nodded firmly. "But the Blackbars are not the first house to suffer calamity in recent months. They are not the first to be left with a young ward in Highgarden as their heir. A precarious position for their house, and a stronger one for their liege, the Tyrells." "I am saddened to think of such a violent end might befall so many good folk. I hope that I can play a part in mitigating whatever might befall us all, for I aldo believe there is much senseless slaughter to come. And if a general peace could not prevail, then I might pursue something more specific. An oasis in the desert perhaps," she mused. "But alas, one can find few allies for such a cause, as those who do not lust for war are often more circumspect and hard to find common ground with. Without such allies, there is little I can do of my own volition." She shrugged. Rhaegor nodded, "Quite right. The tragedies, as they seem, are piling up. And whoever is making a profit off of it, their hands are sure to be covered in blood. It wont take too long before accusations start appearing. Then, I fear," Rhaegor sighed, "The only thing that will come out of it is more bloodshed and houses divided."
To her hopes, Rhaegor smiled, raising his goblet slightly, "An Oasis in the Desert. A noble pursuit, and one that I have often thought about pursing myself." he takes a sip, letting the wine swirl in his mouth, before swallowing with a loud gulp. "I do not wish to see the Reach fall to chaos, but as time has trudged on, it appears that that is the only option. I had considered asking my lord if there was an opportunity to take those from the Reach who are not fit for war to the Tear and set up a safe haven, as you say, but Im not sure if I have made any kind of headway," He lets out another sigh, "It appears that we might have a common goal in mind, even if the rest of the Realm is too clouded by their own arrogance to acknowledge it," |
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