Post by The Great Other on Aug 23, 2012 15:53:12 GMT -5
A Brewing Storm
The candle on Lord Orys’ desk had burned most of the night, and soon the flame would be extinguished by a puddle of wax. Every since the rider from Storm’s End had delivered the news of Ivy Hall, Orys had been conflicted on how to handle the delicate matter. A decade long war had just ended, and Orys did not relish the idea of another one with the snows of winter so close. However, if the rumors were true, it would seem that some of the Storm Lords did not share the same mind set.
The young man moved from his desk, and stared out the window that overlooked Shipbreaker Bay. The sea was calm tonight, but he knew from years of living in Storm’s End that that could change in a moment. Hearing a light rasp on the door, he moved to open it.
Through the door stepped a middle-aged man with a diminutive stature. Though not in his twilight years, most of the hair on his head was gone, and the few tufts that were left were as white as pure-driven snow. Several linked chains hung from his neck. “You sent for me, my Lord?”
Orys pulled a chair out for the master and placed it near the fireplace. “Yes. I want you to read a letter for me before I have it copied and sent to all the lords in the Stormlands.”
The maestar picked up the letter, but before reading it asked, “All, my lord? It will take some time to ready that many ravens.”
“Yes, all of them Maester. You may take as many pages from the castle as needed until your task is complete.” Orys motioned for the letter to be read, and the maestar brought the letter in to the light.
“To the Lords of the Stormlands,
For years, the realm has been at war, and valiant men have fought and died to keep the Seven Kingdoms under the rule of the Iron Throne. With the unfortunate death of the King and his men at Harrenhal, this task was ultimately fulfilled.
The white ravens have flown across Westeros, heralding the oncoming winter. As such, the time has come for the people of the Stormlands to return to their homes and rebuild our countryside. Without preparation, many of our men, women, and children will succumb to the hazards of winter.
I have seen enough of our people die by the sword, and I do not wish to see more die by our short-sightedness. All standing forces are hereby commanded to dismiss their levies, and failure to do so will be considered a threat to the stability and peace of the realm.
Lord Orys Baratheon, Paramount of the Stormlands"
“My Lord, some lords may… may be against such a measure. Especially amongst those that border the Reach.”
“I know maester. However, it is the only option I have been left with. The coming winter coupled with the events of Ivy Hall have left me little choice. You have my leave, Maester Jeremy.”
The candle flickered in one last desperate attempt to stay alive, but finally extinguished itself in the wax. Orys turned back to the window, and watched as the water became more volatile. A storm was brewing.
((Stewardship increased to noteworthy))
((Lords dismiss levies, allowing low-born to return to their trades and farms))
((Stormlands try to raise crops before the snow falls))
Thank you Cedric for typing this up, if you have any questions please ask on the questions section on the OOC Board and I or any other staff member will get to you as soon as possible.
The candle on Lord Orys’ desk had burned most of the night, and soon the flame would be extinguished by a puddle of wax. Every since the rider from Storm’s End had delivered the news of Ivy Hall, Orys had been conflicted on how to handle the delicate matter. A decade long war had just ended, and Orys did not relish the idea of another one with the snows of winter so close. However, if the rumors were true, it would seem that some of the Storm Lords did not share the same mind set.
The young man moved from his desk, and stared out the window that overlooked Shipbreaker Bay. The sea was calm tonight, but he knew from years of living in Storm’s End that that could change in a moment. Hearing a light rasp on the door, he moved to open it.
Through the door stepped a middle-aged man with a diminutive stature. Though not in his twilight years, most of the hair on his head was gone, and the few tufts that were left were as white as pure-driven snow. Several linked chains hung from his neck. “You sent for me, my Lord?”
Orys pulled a chair out for the master and placed it near the fireplace. “Yes. I want you to read a letter for me before I have it copied and sent to all the lords in the Stormlands.”
The maestar picked up the letter, but before reading it asked, “All, my lord? It will take some time to ready that many ravens.”
“Yes, all of them Maester. You may take as many pages from the castle as needed until your task is complete.” Orys motioned for the letter to be read, and the maestar brought the letter in to the light.
“To the Lords of the Stormlands,
For years, the realm has been at war, and valiant men have fought and died to keep the Seven Kingdoms under the rule of the Iron Throne. With the unfortunate death of the King and his men at Harrenhal, this task was ultimately fulfilled.
The white ravens have flown across Westeros, heralding the oncoming winter. As such, the time has come for the people of the Stormlands to return to their homes and rebuild our countryside. Without preparation, many of our men, women, and children will succumb to the hazards of winter.
I have seen enough of our people die by the sword, and I do not wish to see more die by our short-sightedness. All standing forces are hereby commanded to dismiss their levies, and failure to do so will be considered a threat to the stability and peace of the realm.
Lord Orys Baratheon, Paramount of the Stormlands"
“My Lord, some lords may… may be against such a measure. Especially amongst those that border the Reach.”
“I know maester. However, it is the only option I have been left with. The coming winter coupled with the events of Ivy Hall have left me little choice. You have my leave, Maester Jeremy.”
The candle flickered in one last desperate attempt to stay alive, but finally extinguished itself in the wax. Orys turned back to the window, and watched as the water became more volatile. A storm was brewing.
((Stewardship increased to noteworthy))
((Lords dismiss levies, allowing low-born to return to their trades and farms))
((Stormlands try to raise crops before the snow falls))
Thank you Cedric for typing this up, if you have any questions please ask on the questions section on the OOC Board and I or any other staff member will get to you as soon as possible.