[Phase 3] Guest of Honor [Daeron, Robyn]

Robyn let the sigh go.

He doesnt understand, and probably never will. Mercy in war show strength, the fact that his opponent's blows *didn't* kill him should have been all he needed to understand that fact. 

"I have never met Blackfyre, so I cannot speak one way or the other about his gallantry. Though, his skill with the blade is widely known, and I have nothing but the staunchest respect for him on that front. Should an opportunity arise where I meet the man, maybe my opinion on the matter might be more akin to yours," Robyn pauses, "I have never met King Daeron either, but the diplomacy he has managed to secure with Dorne is more than any strong, gallant man who reigned before him accomplished. He understands that peace is never won by slaughter, and that learned men are better advisors than schemers."

"You harshly chastise 'treachery' all the while suggesting treason." Robyn's face hardened, "Make no mistake, that is what you are suggesting. Supporting claims to the throne against the King is the definition of treason."

"When I arrived in the Riverlands, my first mission was to head to the Brackford and remind Ser Manfryd of his oath to his liege. I talked of oath breaking then, of treason, and my opinion of such hasnt changed. Those who break oaths are not worth the dirt on their treacherous boots." 
 
"You fear the disenfranchisement of the title of knight, yet, Ser," his voice lowered to a near growl, "You lack respect to that of King. Knight or no, King Daeron is King, and as a knight of the Realm our duty is to him and the lords who pledged fealty to him."

Robyn listens to Daeron's counter, trying to control his emotions. He wasnt angry, but watching his argument be twisted against him only fueled his distaste of intrigue, and while he had a good grip on his expressions a few managed to slip past.

As Daeron's expression and tone changes, Robyn hands his goblet over with a nod, taking a drink before speaking. 

"To answer your hypothetical, should Lord Leo do as you say, I would seek his council. If nothing else, my weak words should hold the weight of the blows I struck him with. If Ser Otho is named Lord of Starkwood, well," Robyn smiled slightly, "To take your advice, I would hold my oath to my family, the one with the most integrity and honor. And in that oath, no such beast shall take my father's place, or my brother's, when the time comes,"

"Your justification is sound, Ser," he raises his goblet, "While we have yet to cross swords, if your blade-work is anything like your wordplay, I would find myself severely outmatched,"

"Could you arrange a meeting between us?" Robyn leaned in closer, his boyish excitement now beginning to show through, "While I believe he would humor me, I cannot say I know where to find him. And despite all the distaste I spoke, he is still the best swordsman in the Realm," 

Robyn smiled with excitement, his feet pattering the dirt gently before taking another drink, "You think so? I am very interested in meeting him, even if it is somewhere other than Starkwood,"

His face sank slowly, before Robyn looked down at his hands, no longer excited, "I do hope you are wrong, Ser," his eyes glanced up past his brow, "About the coming conflict. I hope that when we return to the Reach, the smell of blood and fire do not follow me. I hope that you can introduce me to the Black Dragon as a friend, and that the only time we cross blades it is followed by good wine and revelry," he raised his goblet, "As opposed to shit wine and rivalry,"

He tilted his head back as he finished the fresh cup Daeron poured for him, setting it on the ground as he stood. There was a slight wobble to his stance as he closed his eyes, finding his balance with his arms outstretched. He chuckled lightly, before looking down at Daeron, "I must apologize, but if I stay in this armor any longer I might rust inside it," he gave a salute, "By your leave, my friend, I will be expecting that invitation,"