Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Thanks, I'm glad that you like it. Your characters are great btw!
You're not exactly replying to the wrong part, there is just a second P… moreoV with another choice on the next page, that was splitted due to the post-length limit. That the parts are splitted between two pages this time is a bit unfortunate, but you're not the only one who hasn't noticed
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Two parts in split posts again, this time apparently even over two different pages! You know how it goes.
Maya
“Are we there yet?”
… more Maya clenched her teeth and looked at her involuntary companion. Irving Todd was a short man, around Mayas height, but more than twice her weight, with shoulder length brown hair and light blue eyes. His small moustache could have looked handsome on a dashing Braavosi sellsword, but on him it looked quite ridiculous. And he was wearing his plain grey armour, as always. A direct order from the Bronze Lord and an order Irving gladly followed. Considering the conversations she had with Irving, Maya was certain that this armour had saved him more than once in his life. While she certainly was not a violent woman, during the past five days she had fought the urge to throw him overboard every second of the day.
“Maya, have you heard me? I asked you a question. Are we there yet?”, he asked again. His voice … [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Two parts in split posts again, this time apparently even over two different pages! You know how it goes.
Maya
“Are we there yet?”
… more Maya clenched her teeth and looked at her involuntary companion. Irving Todd was a short man, around Mayas height, but more than twice her weight, with shoulder length brown hair and light blue eyes. His small moustache could have looked handsome on a dashing Braavosi sellsword, but on him it looked quite ridiculous. And he was wearing his plain grey armour, as always. A direct order from the Bronze Lord and an order Irving gladly followed. Considering the conversations she had with Irving, Maya was certain that this armour had saved him more than once in his life. While she certainly was not a violent woman, during the past five days she had fought the urge to throw him overboard every second of the day.
“Maya, have you heard me? I asked you a question. Are we there yet?”, he asked again. His voice … [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Two parts in split posts again, this time apparently even over two different pages! You know how it goes.
Maya
“Are we there yet?”
… more Maya clenched her teeth and looked at her involuntary companion. Irving Todd was a short man, around Mayas height, but more than twice her weight, with shoulder length brown hair and light blue eyes. His small moustache could have looked handsome on a dashing Braavosi sellsword, but on him it looked quite ridiculous. And he was wearing his plain grey armour, as always. A direct order from the Bronze Lord and an order Irving gladly followed. Considering the conversations she had with Irving, Maya was certain that this armour had saved him more than once in his life. While she certainly was not a violent woman, during the past five days she had fought the urge to throw him overboard every second of the day.
“Maya, have you heard me? I asked you a question. Are we there yet?”, he asked again. His voice … [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
And then there were his sons. Arvin, his oldest son, his most ferocious son. Dylar and Dramin, Jennas younger brothers, barely grown men, trying to emulate their older brother.
Maya
She looked at Gregar. The man looked pretty competent. Surely, the old Lord Redfort wouldn't give her a weakling for this mission. A… morend she believed him, that the Mountain Clans would be no danger for him. He almost looked like one of them! But, the stories she heard were enough to give her a more than uneasy feeling. The Mountain Clans had resisted every king of the Vale for the past six thousand years. They descended directly from the First Men. They had cruel and bloody rituals for their Old Gods. No, she wouldn't take her chances on Gregar, as reliable as he might be. She looked at the Bronze Lord, who still observed her, with his nightmarishly pale eyes, smiling his stilted smile, being dangerously calm for a man of his reputation. Then again, the most dangerous men she ever met had been calm.
Truly dangerous men didn't need to be angry to get what the want. They only need to be.
“I made up my mind. We'll take a ship in Gull… [view original content]
From supersagigs eaten reply I guess he means Richards sons, Jennas brothers. There are three, they fight in the Dornish Marches and they may or may not appear in the story some time. My guess would be that he mistook Alan for one of Jennas brothers.
From supersagigs eaten reply I guess he means Richards sons, Jennas brothers. There are three, they fight in the Dornish Marches and they ma… morey or may not appear in the story some time. My guess would be that he mistook Alan for one of Jennas brothers.
Anyway, get ready for Alan relatively soon
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Two parts in split posts again, this time apparently even over two different pages! You know how it goes.
Maya
“Are we there yet?”
… more Maya clenched her teeth and looked at her involuntary companion. Irving Todd was a short man, around Mayas height, but more than twice her weight, with shoulder length brown hair and light blue eyes. His small moustache could have looked handsome on a dashing Braavosi sellsword, but on him it looked quite ridiculous. And he was wearing his plain grey armour, as always. A direct order from the Bronze Lord and an order Irving gladly followed. Considering the conversations she had with Irving, Maya was certain that this armour had saved him more than once in his life. While she certainly was not a violent woman, during the past five days she had fought the urge to throw him overboard every second of the day.
“Maya, have you heard me? I asked you a question. Are we there yet?”, he asked again. His voice … [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Marak
Don't look into the fire Marak...
Don't look into the fire...
Marak looked directly into the fire, the fire of the small cand… morele, looking for any signs of visions, seeing nothing. Ah, damn it! During the past week, he had caught himself doing this, over and over. There were days were he looked into the flame until his eyes started to hurt, until dark shadows started to dance in the corner of his eyes. There were days where he thought that he could see something. Figures, dancing in the flames, like animals fighting each other. Then he realized that he saw nothing. It was stupid! And not what he should do! Right now, he should fuck some girl in the Stormlands or split some skulls. Or do both on a particularly good day.
But it wasn't a good day. He was sitting here in a shady inn somewhere near Highgarden, together with Noelle, the craziest girl he had ever met. And he was drinking the worst ale he had ever drank! It was a swee… [view original content]
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in excitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted on tracking these men down. Tallain had been against it, had constantly reminded the lord of his duty to accompany them to the Rocks border. But Crakehall did not back down from his plan and Willfred was only too happy to oblige as the old lord asked him to accompany the scouts. For the past two days they had followed the tracks, on feet to avoid unnecessary attention until one of the scouts had found a small farmhouse, currently occupied by half a dozen heavily armed men. From the safety of a nearby forest, Willfred had caught a glimpse on one of the men, an unkempt, scarred man clad in chainmail, armed with a longsword. This was not an ordinary marauder using the absence of Lord Serrett, who fought at the Golden Tooth, to pillage at his leisure. He was too well-armed for that. One of the scouts suspected these men to be deserters, tired of the long war against the Ironborn. But Lord Crakehall had a different theory and Willfred was inclined to agree with him. For him, these men were no deserters. They were Ironborn.
Crakehall gave one of his scouts a sign. The man blurted out a small whistle, signalling for Crakehalls men at the other side of the farmhouse to fire their arrows. A surprised gurgle sounded, showing Willfred and Crakehall that the arrows had found a target. Inside the farmhouse, surprised shouts could be heard. Crakehall did not waste his time. The old lord raised his axe and opened the small backdoor with an almost casual smile, before jumping inside. Even before Willfred entered, he heard a loud battlecry, followed by surprised sounds of pain from the men inside the farmhouse. In his youth, Quentyn Crakehall had been a fearsome warrior, albeit he never won a big tournament. Instead, he preferred to fight in battles. According to rumours, Crakehall had never fought a fight without killing his opponent. With the years, his legendary bloodlust faded slightly, getting replaced by jovial cruelty. Still, he was a renowned warrior and even in his advanced age more than able to knock an opponent out with a single strike of his axe. Willfred was excited to fight with him.
As he entered the farmhouse, it became clear that Crakehall didn't need the help. He had already killed one of his opponents and was currently fighting to clearly intimidated men at once. Two more could be seen in the small room, another one stepped out of a backroom. Three men who stood near the farmhouses only window had been killed by arrows, a fourth had been shot in the shoulder and was wincing in pain. Without thinking about it, Willfred attacked one of the marauders, an average looking man with short brown hair. He wasn't wearing armour and actually didn't look like he had expected Crakehalls ambush. But he was armed with a broadsword, a fine weapon, usually wielded by soldiers, not by common bandits. Willfred took a swing to his opponents belly, while the man tried to step back. His opponent clearly underestimated the reach Willfred had with his sword and got hit in the stomach area. With a quick strike to the head, Willfred ended the man's life, just in time to raise his sword again, to parry another opponent's strike. His second opponent was around his height, with a severely broken nose and an unkempt beard. The man was wielding a longsword and screamed a loud battlecry as he attacked again. His attack was cut short by Lord Crakehall, who embedded his axe in the man's skull. “You owe me one!”, he screamed as he pulled out a dagger. Willfred looked behind Crakehall and saw both of his opponents lying dead on the ground. The last of the marauders pointed his sword at Crakehall, but seemed to be impressed, if not intimidated, as the old lord started to charge at him. “Crakehall for the Rock!”, the lord shouted, evading a blow to the head with a quick duck, before impaling his opponent with his dagger. Willfred looked around the farmhouse. In only a few moments, Quentyn Crakehall had killed five men, while he himself only got one of them! In Castamere, Crakehall clearly behaved like a man of his age, sitting hunched, being mostly silent. But for every mile they had been on the road, the lord appeared younger and younger, sitting straight, smiling like he was at least thirty years younger and wielding his axe with the strength of two men. But this... Willfred had to admit, he was impressed.
A pained cough made him turn around. The last of his opponents, a man who got hit in the shoulder by an arrow was clutching his wound, looking up to Willfred. “I yield...”, he mumbled. “Drowned God have mercy, I yield...” Willfred looked up as one of Crakehalls scouts entered the room. “We found two of them hiding in the forest. They ran too slow”, the scout told him.
With a terrifying laugh, Quentyn Crakehall walked next to Willfred. “Good work, boy!”, he said, giving him an approving pat on the back. Willfred shook his head. “You killed five men, mylord. I got only one”, he answered, which lead to another short laugh by Crakehall. “At the end of the day, it isn't important how many men you have killed. What's more important is, how much fun you had while doing it! You had fun, right boy?”, he said. Willfred allowed himself a slight smile. In some way, he felt alive after this fight, almost inspired by the old lord. His father was a very careful man, who would never lead a charge like this personally. In his younger years, Willfred thought this cautiousness was cowardice, but as he grew up he understood the wisdom in his fathers actions. Still, fighting alongside Crakehall proved to be oddly satisfying. It was all he had ever dreamt of as a child. “Most fun I've had in ages”, he answered. Crakehall shook his head. “You need to fight more, boy. It'll prevent you from aging. Or it'll prevent you from getting old”, he grinned, before turning his attention at the wounded man on the floor. “And we got one of them alive...”
Crakehall grabbed the wounded man at the neck, lifting him up until he looked him directly in the eye. “Now... let's see what we can get out of him before sending him back to his drowned god...”, he hissed. The wounded man shivered and struggled as Crakehall almost started to choke him. “We can do this quick...”, he hissed before giving the man a punch on the wounded shoulder “Or we can do this forever” The wounded man winced and shivered, very clearly deadly afraid of the old man who had him at his mercy. “Please... please m'lord, let me live...”, he begged, while gasping for air. Crakehall gave his scout a short nod. “You go into the backroom. Tell me what you see there. Then I'll decide...” His voice was sullen, growling and hard as iron. Willfred noticed that the wounded man started to breath heavily. “No... no please m'lord! I never wanted to do it! They forced me! I was afraid, please...”, he started to beg but was interrupted when Crakehall grabbed his left hand.
“Four bodies, m'lord!”, the scout shouted. “Two men, two women... as far as I can identify them. The men are in better condition than the woman. Fucking Ironborn hacked of their limbs, but left the skin intact. The women had it worse...”
Willfred didn't dare to look Crakehall directly in the eyes. Hearing his voice was bad enough. “Four bodies... the women had it worse...”, the old lord repeated blankly. “The women had it worse...” With a sickening crunch he broke his captives hand, which prompted the man to cry in pain and terror. “You tell me one more time you never wanted to do it. Come one, I dare you...”, Crakehall hissed before looking at Willfred. “Boy, you get outside. This little fuck will tell me everything, but I still won't let him go gently”, he commanded. Willfred opened his mouth to protest, before catching the look in Crakehalls eye. Afterwards, he was more than happy to oblige.
It took Vashord Tallian and the main host of Crakehalls army three hours until they arrived at the farmhouse. Three hours in which screams of agony turned into hushed cries for mercy. Crakehall didn't grant it. It wasn't until Willfred was already able to see Tallians less than thrilled facial expression that Quentyn Crakehall stepped out of the farmhouse. His hands, wrapped around the hilt of his axe, were sprinkled with blood and his frown seemed completely out of place for him. Yet, Willfred couldn't help but to feel that what the lord had done was justice. The women had it worse...
With a stony face, Tallian rode up to them. “I assume you are done with your... past-time activity, Lord Crakehall?”, he asked, his voice oozing with disdain. Crakehall gave no answer. Instead he looked at Willfred. “He is dead, if you want to ask this”, he explained, before finally looking at Tallian. With every second, he seemed to snap out of his sullen mood, finally showing the General a big grin. “You missed a lot of fun, Vashord! They didn't expect a damn thing. Young Willfred got one, while I took five down. It was glorious!, he explained. The general shook his head. “Does that mean it is over?”, he asked. Crakehall shook his head. “The bastard I interrogated told me where the rest of his men are located. This is not over until they are all dead!”, he explained. Tallian narrowed his eyes. “Is this really necessary, Lord Crakehall? How many are there either way?”
Lord Crakehall let out a loud and happy laugh. “They are a large group, they already destroyed two villages. They are almost a hundred men!”, he shouted and raised his axe. “You might do all for your pride, Willfred, the Lannisters might roar all day, but there's none so fierce as a Crakehall! We will meet them in the field and we will crush them! And then we shall send their heads back to Harrenhal!” Willfred looked at General Tallian, who seemed to disapprove of this. But as he looked back at Crakehall, he couldn't contain a smile. This would be a glorious battle! “Lord Crakehall, allow me to fight at your side”, he said. Crakehall patted him on the back. “Good boy! We will lead the vanguard. The first in battle, the last to leave!”, he exclaimed.
Tallian gave him a furious glare. “Have you both lost your minds? We're talking about a hundred men here. We outman them two to one. There is no need to fight personally. You are the most powerful lord of the southern Rock and the eldest son of the most powerful lord of the northern Rock. The kingdom can't risk loosing you”, he explained. Crakehall shook his head. “You are a craven, Vashord and pathetic. What good is a lord who is too sissy to lead his men into battle? I will fight at the frontlines, like I always do”, he growled. Tallian shook his head. “Reckless idiot...”, he muttered, before looking at Willfred. “And you, Ser Willfred? Do you want to risk your life, or do you want to stay safe? I don't have to remind you that your safety is essential for our mission, do I?”
[Fight at the frontlines with Lord Crakehall][Stay back with General Tallian]
Lyria
The dagger was a masterpiece. Lyria wasn't quick to praise herself, but she had to admit that she outdid herself. The seal on the daggers hilt looked exactly like the drawing she received from Wolfius almost a week earlier. She had a few problems with the finer details, but in the end she was more than happy with it. Wolfius would be pleased... Which lead her to think if she really wanted to please him. She hadn't seen the man during the past week, not even glimpses of him. But now that the day approached where he would enter her forge again, she started to get nervous. But... why exactly? Wolfius hadn't done anything wrong so far. He had a strange way of speaking. He had a piercing stare and an unnerving smile. The way he looked at Rosalie worried her. But he had done nothing wrong. She just wanted him gone.
A sudden screech made her look up. On the windowsill sat a black bird, a raven, letting out another screech as she looked at it. The window was open as always, to cool down the room a bit. Still, it was highly unusual that a bird actually flew into the forge. Lyria took a step closer, carefully watching the raven. The bird watched back, seemed to look deeply into her eyes. Lyria felt a slightly uncomfortable feeling as the raven looked her in the eyes. The bird stood completely still, making no noise, just sitting on the sill. It's stare was... almost menacing. Lyria gulped. “Fuck off...”, she mumbled, trying to shoo it away with a handwave. The bird did not move, not even as she almost hit it. Instead it continued looking at her for a few more moments, before finally flying out of the window again and into the evening sky. Lyria shivered and for the first time in ages, she closed the shutters.
As she walked into the forges main room, Wolfius' dagger in her hand, she saw Rosalie sitting in a small chair, apparently taking a small nap. “What are you doing, young lady?”, Lyria asked with a stern face. Rosalie was supposed to greet customers in her forge, whenever Lyria was working and couldn't do it herself. They were not supposed to see a sleeping Rosalie the moment they entered the forge. Her daughter opened her eyes and jumped up. “Nothing, mother! I was paying attention, I swear”, she stuttered, before yawning. “Okay... I might have closed my eyes for a few moments, but who cares. It's not like we have that many customers in the evening either way. More like, we can be lucky to have a customer at daytime”, she shrugged. Lyria allowed herself a slight smile. “You know your job, Rosie...”, she mumbled before yawning herself. She had worked the whole day to complete Wolfius assignment. He would come soon, maybe tomorrow or the day after and she did not want him to return again because she hadn't finished her assignment yet.
“Are you done with that knife you had to forge for the creep?”, Rosalie asked. Lyria gave her a stern face. While her daughter was right, she wasn't supposed to talk like that about a customer. One day, she would inherit the forge and had to watch her manners. Lyria raised her hand, showing her daughter the seal. “A masterpiece. Wolfius will be pleased”, she explained. Rosalie looked at the hilt, examining the seal. “You were supposed to forge that?”, she asked. Lyria nodded. Rosalie raised an eyebrow. “For his... friend, right?”, she asked again. Again, Lyria gave her a nod, now slightly more confused. Rosalie seemed to know something. Right now, her daughter grabbed the dagger, closely examining the seal on the hilt. “You do realize you just forged an Ironborn weapon, right?”, she asked.
Lyria felt her heart beating in her chest, a sudden wave of shock, mixed with anger. “What... what are you saying? How do you know?”, she stuttered. Rosalie shrugged. “House Hoare of Orkmont. The four symbols depict the ancient Ironborn empire, from Bear Island down the western coast to the Arbor”, Rosalie explained. When Lyria gave her a questioning look, she sighed. “Philip showed me a book in the archive...”, she mumbled, almost apologetically. Even though she had plenty of other things she wanted to ask, Lyrias motherly instinct proved to be stronger. “Philip? Philip Loren? What do you have to do with him?”, she asked sternly. Philip Loren! That man was no company for her daughter! Rosalie looked at her for a moment before opening her mouth. “Oh... No! No, we have not... he was just nice and I wanted to see the archive. Nothing happened. He was polite and friendly. Do not worry...”, she explained. Lyria shook her head. Do not worry! As if that was so easy...
A sudden noise in front of her forge cut her out of her thoughts. It sounded like someone approaching, before turning back again, almost as if someone wasn't sure if entering the forge would be right. Rosalie looked at her mother, apparently sensing a possibility to delay the coming lecture. “You should look who that was. Could be a customer...”, she mumbled. Lyria gave her a stern look. “This is not over, young lady!”, she grumbled. Unfortunately, her daughter was right. Maybe that was a customer. It wasn't that dark outside, so there was nothing to be afraid of. And even after nightfall, there was nothing to be afraid of. This was Raylansfair after all! But, just to feel safe, Lyria took the dagger with her, the dagger with the sigil of House Hoare on it... Seven Hell, why would Wolfius want a dagger with an Ironborn sigil on it? Does that mean his friend was a Hoare?
With an uneasy feeling, Lyria left her forge. It was darker than she thought, with dark shadows already gathering in the small alleyway her forge was located in. Still, there was no customer...
Lyria winced as she saw a shadow approaching. “Hello, blacksmith Mettel...”, the figure said, before she recognized Wolfius. “I believe you have finished my assignment, yes?”, he asked, his cold smile sending shivers down her spine. She managed to give him a slight nod. “Yes... here it is”, she said, showing him the knife.
Wolfius took a long, fascinated look at the knife, fascinated by it. “Wonderful work, my dearest blacksmith Mettel. Now... I guess I owe you a reward...”, he hissed while reaching inside of his overcoat. Lyria resisted the urge to run back into her forge and slamming the door behind her. She just stood there, frozen in terror. With a dangerous smile, Wolfius pulled a small purse out of his coat.
“Fifty golden hands, just as promised...”, he hissed, before starting to laugh. It sounded like a wolf howling. “Don't look so surprised, blacksmith Mettel. What were you thinking? That I would betray our agreement? That I would draw a knife? What an... absurd thought. I am a man of honor, blacksmith Mettel. I always stay true to my word. In return, I have to ask something from you too... Do not tell anyone about this. It is important. For me. For you. For pretty Rosie...”, he hissed. Lyria froze in shock. Rosalie... no, he called her Rosie... She never called her Rosie when someone else was with her. How could he know? And... was that a threat?
She managed to give Wolfius a short and weak nod. The man’s smile faded, replaced by a stern face. Somehow, this was less terrifying than his smile. “Good, blacksmith Mettel. I trust you. Stay true to your word and I might have more assignments in the future. I am more than pleased with this dagger”, he said before taking a bow. “And now... good night. Sleep well, blacksmith Mettel”, he whispered before turning around and walking away.
He left a thoroughly shocked and scared Lyria. She shouldn't tell anyone... Yet, something was wrong here. She could tell the city guard, just to make sure they would know about him. Wolfius could never find that out. But... how had he found out about Rosie?
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour][Stay silent, as Wolfius requested]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
[Stay back with General Tallian] I think if he were to go to battle, Willifred would some how get almost killed, but Crakehall would bust in saving his life, but losing his in the process.
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour] This is for when Wolfius eventually kills Lyria for not allowing him to have his way with Rosalie. Because we all know that is going to happen.
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in exc… moreitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted o… [view original content]
Comments
[Be yourself]
Oh, alright thanks! Keep up the good work!
[Give up both daggers]
[Be yourself]
Shh, we still have Alan Harking who will swoop in and save them all, while also reincarnating Richard!
[Give up one dagger]
[Try to be polite]
[Try to be charming]
When has being yourself turn out to be a good idea?
[Give up one dagger]
Screw that.
[Be yourself]
Yeah... that's probably going to happen...
[Give up one dagger]
[Try to be charming]
I'm sure Marak has charm coming out of his ass.
Sorry for the spoiler! I guess you'll have to re-write the script The Wolf Among Us style.
What happened to the others 2 brothers?
[Try to be charming]
Hmm? It was only Richard and Alan (family made by @SuperChocoLatte and I. Well, he made it, and with his help, I added on to it).
@SivD1
From supersagigs eaten reply I guess he means Richards sons, Jennas brothers. There are three, they fight in the Dornish Marches and they may or may not appear in the story some time. My guess would be that he mistook Alan for one of Jennas brothers.
Anyway, get ready for Alan relatively soon
Yess, he will show us the way of the Lord.
Keep both daggers
Try to be friendly
[Give up one dagger]
[Try to be friendly]
[Give up one dagger]
[Try to be charming]
Was torn between being youself and this
[Keep Both Daggers]
[Be yourself]
The Voting is closed!
Maya will give up one dagger
Marak will try to be charming... somehow...
You do realize that I have to write a part with Marak being charming now, do you? Don't say I didn't warn you...
Writing for the next part took me a bit longer than planned. I try my best to finish it today, but can't promise anything.
Willfred
Willfred backed against the wooden wall of the small farmhouse, holding his greatsword with both hands, breathing heavily in excitement, looking up to Lord Crakehall, who gave him a cheerful, gap-toothed smile, while carefully eyeing the backdoor he was leaning next to. Regardless of General Tallians arguments, the old lord accompanied his scouts for this mission and had somehow managed to persuade Willfred to come with him. And even though he had already passed his seventieth name-day, once he grabbed his axe the old lord displayed an almost youthful excitement over the skirmish that would follow. Two days earlier, one of his scouts returned to the main army, reporting a destroyed village in the valley they were about to enter. It had been an ordinary village, located two days from Silverhill, seat of House Serrett. The scout had found tracks of at least half a dozen people who had entered a small forest and Crakehall insisted on tracking these men down. Tallain had been against it, had constantly reminded the lord of his duty to accompany them to the Rocks border. But Crakehall did not back down from his plan and Willfred was only too happy to oblige as the old lord asked him to accompany the scouts. For the past two days they had followed the tracks, on feet to avoid unnecessary attention until one of the scouts had found a small farmhouse, currently occupied by half a dozen heavily armed men. From the safety of a nearby forest, Willfred had caught a glimpse on one of the men, an unkempt, scarred man clad in chainmail, armed with a longsword. This was not an ordinary marauder using the absence of Lord Serrett, who fought at the Golden Tooth, to pillage at his leisure. He was too well-armed for that. One of the scouts suspected these men to be deserters, tired of the long war against the Ironborn. But Lord Crakehall had a different theory and Willfred was inclined to agree with him. For him, these men were no deserters. They were Ironborn.
Crakehall gave one of his scouts a sign. The man blurted out a small whistle, signalling for Crakehalls men at the other side of the farmhouse to fire their arrows. A surprised gurgle sounded, showing Willfred and Crakehall that the arrows had found a target. Inside the farmhouse, surprised shouts could be heard. Crakehall did not waste his time. The old lord raised his axe and opened the small backdoor with an almost casual smile, before jumping inside. Even before Willfred entered, he heard a loud battlecry, followed by surprised sounds of pain from the men inside the farmhouse. In his youth, Quentyn Crakehall had been a fearsome warrior, albeit he never won a big tournament. Instead, he preferred to fight in battles. According to rumours, Crakehall had never fought a fight without killing his opponent. With the years, his legendary bloodlust faded slightly, getting replaced by jovial cruelty. Still, he was a renowned warrior and even in his advanced age more than able to knock an opponent out with a single strike of his axe. Willfred was excited to fight with him.
As he entered the farmhouse, it became clear that Crakehall didn't need the help. He had already killed one of his opponents and was currently fighting to clearly intimidated men at once. Two more could be seen in the small room, another one stepped out of a backroom. Three men who stood near the farmhouses only window had been killed by arrows, a fourth had been shot in the shoulder and was wincing in pain. Without thinking about it, Willfred attacked one of the marauders, an average looking man with short brown hair. He wasn't wearing armour and actually didn't look like he had expected Crakehalls ambush. But he was armed with a broadsword, a fine weapon, usually wielded by soldiers, not by common bandits. Willfred took a swing to his opponents belly, while the man tried to step back. His opponent clearly underestimated the reach Willfred had with his sword and got hit in the stomach area. With a quick strike to the head, Willfred ended the man's life, just in time to raise his sword again, to parry another opponent's strike. His second opponent was around his height, with a severely broken nose and an unkempt beard. The man was wielding a longsword and screamed a loud battlecry as he attacked again. His attack was cut short by Lord Crakehall, who embedded his axe in the man's skull. “You owe me one!”, he screamed as he pulled out a dagger. Willfred looked behind Crakehall and saw both of his opponents lying dead on the ground. The last of the marauders pointed his sword at Crakehall, but seemed to be impressed, if not intimidated, as the old lord started to charge at him. “Crakehall for the Rock!”, the lord shouted, evading a blow to the head with a quick duck, before impaling his opponent with his dagger. Willfred looked around the farmhouse. In only a few moments, Quentyn Crakehall had killed five men, while he himself only got one of them! In Castamere, Crakehall clearly behaved like a man of his age, sitting hunched, being mostly silent. But for every mile they had been on the road, the lord appeared younger and younger, sitting straight, smiling like he was at least thirty years younger and wielding his axe with the strength of two men. But this... Willfred had to admit, he was impressed.
A pained cough made him turn around. The last of his opponents, a man who got hit in the shoulder by an arrow was clutching his wound, looking up to Willfred. “I yield...”, he mumbled. “Drowned God have mercy, I yield...” Willfred looked up as one of Crakehalls scouts entered the room. “We found two of them hiding in the forest. They ran too slow”, the scout told him.
With a terrifying laugh, Quentyn Crakehall walked next to Willfred. “Good work, boy!”, he said, giving him an approving pat on the back. Willfred shook his head. “You killed five men, mylord. I got only one”, he answered, which lead to another short laugh by Crakehall. “At the end of the day, it isn't important how many men you have killed. What's more important is, how much fun you had while doing it! You had fun, right boy?”, he said. Willfred allowed himself a slight smile. In some way, he felt alive after this fight, almost inspired by the old lord. His father was a very careful man, who would never lead a charge like this personally. In his younger years, Willfred thought this cautiousness was cowardice, but as he grew up he understood the wisdom in his fathers actions. Still, fighting alongside Crakehall proved to be oddly satisfying. It was all he had ever dreamt of as a child. “Most fun I've had in ages”, he answered. Crakehall shook his head. “You need to fight more, boy. It'll prevent you from aging. Or it'll prevent you from getting old”, he grinned, before turning his attention at the wounded man on the floor. “And we got one of them alive...”
Crakehall grabbed the wounded man at the neck, lifting him up until he looked him directly in the eye. “Now... let's see what we can get out of him before sending him back to his drowned god...”, he hissed. The wounded man shivered and struggled as Crakehall almost started to choke him. “We can do this quick...”, he hissed before giving the man a punch on the wounded shoulder “Or we can do this forever” The wounded man winced and shivered, very clearly deadly afraid of the old man who had him at his mercy. “Please... please m'lord, let me live...”, he begged, while gasping for air. Crakehall gave his scout a short nod. “You go into the backroom. Tell me what you see there. Then I'll decide...” His voice was sullen, growling and hard as iron. Willfred noticed that the wounded man started to breath heavily. “No... no please m'lord! I never wanted to do it! They forced me! I was afraid, please...”, he started to beg but was interrupted when Crakehall grabbed his left hand.
“Four bodies, m'lord!”, the scout shouted. “Two men, two women... as far as I can identify them. The men are in better condition than the woman. Fucking Ironborn hacked of their limbs, but left the skin intact. The women had it worse...”
Willfred didn't dare to look Crakehall directly in the eyes. Hearing his voice was bad enough. “Four bodies... the women had it worse...”, the old lord repeated blankly. “The women had it worse...” With a sickening crunch he broke his captives hand, which prompted the man to cry in pain and terror. “You tell me one more time you never wanted to do it. Come one, I dare you...”, Crakehall hissed before looking at Willfred. “Boy, you get outside. This little fuck will tell me everything, but I still won't let him go gently”, he commanded. Willfred opened his mouth to protest, before catching the look in Crakehalls eye. Afterwards, he was more than happy to oblige.
It took Vashord Tallian and the main host of Crakehalls army three hours until they arrived at the farmhouse. Three hours in which screams of agony turned into hushed cries for mercy. Crakehall didn't grant it. It wasn't until Willfred was already able to see Tallians less than thrilled facial expression that Quentyn Crakehall stepped out of the farmhouse. His hands, wrapped around the hilt of his axe, were sprinkled with blood and his frown seemed completely out of place for him. Yet, Willfred couldn't help but to feel that what the lord had done was justice. The women had it worse...
With a stony face, Tallian rode up to them. “I assume you are done with your... past-time activity, Lord Crakehall?”, he asked, his voice oozing with disdain. Crakehall gave no answer. Instead he looked at Willfred. “He is dead, if you want to ask this”, he explained, before finally looking at Tallian. With every second, he seemed to snap out of his sullen mood, finally showing the General a big grin. “You missed a lot of fun, Vashord! They didn't expect a damn thing. Young Willfred got one, while I took five down. It was glorious!, he explained. The general shook his head. “Does that mean it is over?”, he asked. Crakehall shook his head. “The bastard I interrogated told me where the rest of his men are located. This is not over until they are all dead!”, he explained. Tallian narrowed his eyes. “Is this really necessary, Lord Crakehall? How many are there either way?”
Lord Crakehall let out a loud and happy laugh. “They are a large group, they already destroyed two villages. They are almost a hundred men!”, he shouted and raised his axe. “You might do all for your pride, Willfred, the Lannisters might roar all day, but there's none so fierce as a Crakehall! We will meet them in the field and we will crush them! And then we shall send their heads back to Harrenhal!” Willfred looked at General Tallian, who seemed to disapprove of this. But as he looked back at Crakehall, he couldn't contain a smile. This would be a glorious battle! “Lord Crakehall, allow me to fight at your side”, he said. Crakehall patted him on the back. “Good boy! We will lead the vanguard. The first in battle, the last to leave!”, he exclaimed.
Tallian gave him a furious glare. “Have you both lost your minds? We're talking about a hundred men here. We outman them two to one. There is no need to fight personally. You are the most powerful lord of the southern Rock and the eldest son of the most powerful lord of the northern Rock. The kingdom can't risk loosing you”, he explained. Crakehall shook his head. “You are a craven, Vashord and pathetic. What good is a lord who is too sissy to lead his men into battle? I will fight at the frontlines, like I always do”, he growled. Tallian shook his head. “Reckless idiot...”, he muttered, before looking at Willfred. “And you, Ser Willfred? Do you want to risk your life, or do you want to stay safe? I don't have to remind you that your safety is essential for our mission, do I?”
[Fight at the frontlines with Lord Crakehall] [Stay back with General Tallian]
Lyria
The dagger was a masterpiece. Lyria wasn't quick to praise herself, but she had to admit that she outdid herself. The seal on the daggers hilt looked exactly like the drawing she received from Wolfius almost a week earlier. She had a few problems with the finer details, but in the end she was more than happy with it. Wolfius would be pleased... Which lead her to think if she really wanted to please him. She hadn't seen the man during the past week, not even glimpses of him. But now that the day approached where he would enter her forge again, she started to get nervous. But... why exactly? Wolfius hadn't done anything wrong so far. He had a strange way of speaking. He had a piercing stare and an unnerving smile. The way he looked at Rosalie worried her. But he had done nothing wrong. She just wanted him gone.
A sudden screech made her look up. On the windowsill sat a black bird, a raven, letting out another screech as she looked at it. The window was open as always, to cool down the room a bit. Still, it was highly unusual that a bird actually flew into the forge. Lyria took a step closer, carefully watching the raven. The bird watched back, seemed to look deeply into her eyes. Lyria felt a slightly uncomfortable feeling as the raven looked her in the eyes. The bird stood completely still, making no noise, just sitting on the sill. It's stare was... almost menacing. Lyria gulped. “Fuck off...”, she mumbled, trying to shoo it away with a handwave. The bird did not move, not even as she almost hit it. Instead it continued looking at her for a few more moments, before finally flying out of the window again and into the evening sky. Lyria shivered and for the first time in ages, she closed the shutters.
As she walked into the forges main room, Wolfius' dagger in her hand, she saw Rosalie sitting in a small chair, apparently taking a small nap. “What are you doing, young lady?”, Lyria asked with a stern face. Rosalie was supposed to greet customers in her forge, whenever Lyria was working and couldn't do it herself. They were not supposed to see a sleeping Rosalie the moment they entered the forge. Her daughter opened her eyes and jumped up. “Nothing, mother! I was paying attention, I swear”, she stuttered, before yawning. “Okay... I might have closed my eyes for a few moments, but who cares. It's not like we have that many customers in the evening either way. More like, we can be lucky to have a customer at daytime”, she shrugged. Lyria allowed herself a slight smile. “You know your job, Rosie...”, she mumbled before yawning herself. She had worked the whole day to complete Wolfius assignment. He would come soon, maybe tomorrow or the day after and she did not want him to return again because she hadn't finished her assignment yet.
“Are you done with that knife you had to forge for the creep?”, Rosalie asked. Lyria gave her a stern face. While her daughter was right, she wasn't supposed to talk like that about a customer. One day, she would inherit the forge and had to watch her manners. Lyria raised her hand, showing her daughter the seal. “A masterpiece. Wolfius will be pleased”, she explained. Rosalie looked at the hilt, examining the seal. “You were supposed to forge that?”, she asked. Lyria nodded. Rosalie raised an eyebrow. “For his... friend, right?”, she asked again. Again, Lyria gave her a nod, now slightly more confused. Rosalie seemed to know something. Right now, her daughter grabbed the dagger, closely examining the seal on the hilt. “You do realize you just forged an Ironborn weapon, right?”, she asked.
Lyria felt her heart beating in her chest, a sudden wave of shock, mixed with anger. “What... what are you saying? How do you know?”, she stuttered. Rosalie shrugged. “House Hoare of Orkmont. The four symbols depict the ancient Ironborn empire, from Bear Island down the western coast to the Arbor”, Rosalie explained. When Lyria gave her a questioning look, she sighed. “Philip showed me a book in the archive...”, she mumbled, almost apologetically. Even though she had plenty of other things she wanted to ask, Lyrias motherly instinct proved to be stronger. “Philip? Philip Loren? What do you have to do with him?”, she asked sternly. Philip Loren! That man was no company for her daughter! Rosalie looked at her for a moment before opening her mouth. “Oh... No! No, we have not... he was just nice and I wanted to see the archive. Nothing happened. He was polite and friendly. Do not worry...”, she explained. Lyria shook her head. Do not worry! As if that was so easy...
A sudden noise in front of her forge cut her out of her thoughts. It sounded like someone approaching, before turning back again, almost as if someone wasn't sure if entering the forge would be right. Rosalie looked at her mother, apparently sensing a possibility to delay the coming lecture. “You should look who that was. Could be a customer...”, she mumbled. Lyria gave her a stern look. “This is not over, young lady!”, she grumbled. Unfortunately, her daughter was right. Maybe that was a customer. It wasn't that dark outside, so there was nothing to be afraid of. And even after nightfall, there was nothing to be afraid of. This was Raylansfair after all! But, just to feel safe, Lyria took the dagger with her, the dagger with the sigil of House Hoare on it... Seven Hell, why would Wolfius want a dagger with an Ironborn sigil on it? Does that mean his friend was a Hoare?
With an uneasy feeling, Lyria left her forge. It was darker than she thought, with dark shadows already gathering in the small alleyway her forge was located in. Still, there was no customer...
Lyria winced as she saw a shadow approaching. “Hello, blacksmith Mettel...”, the figure said, before she recognized Wolfius. “I believe you have finished my assignment, yes?”, he asked, his cold smile sending shivers down her spine. She managed to give him a slight nod. “Yes... here it is”, she said, showing him the knife.
Wolfius took a long, fascinated look at the knife, fascinated by it. “Wonderful work, my dearest blacksmith Mettel. Now... I guess I owe you a reward...”, he hissed while reaching inside of his overcoat. Lyria resisted the urge to run back into her forge and slamming the door behind her. She just stood there, frozen in terror. With a dangerous smile, Wolfius pulled a small purse out of his coat.
“Fifty golden hands, just as promised...”, he hissed, before starting to laugh. It sounded like a wolf howling. “Don't look so surprised, blacksmith Mettel. What were you thinking? That I would betray our agreement? That I would draw a knife? What an... absurd thought. I am a man of honor, blacksmith Mettel. I always stay true to my word. In return, I have to ask something from you too... Do not tell anyone about this. It is important. For me. For you. For pretty Rosie...”, he hissed. Lyria froze in shock. Rosalie... no, he called her Rosie... She never called her Rosie when someone else was with her. How could he know? And... was that a threat?
She managed to give Wolfius a short and weak nod. The man’s smile faded, replaced by a stern face. Somehow, this was less terrifying than his smile. “Good, blacksmith Mettel. I trust you. Stay true to your word and I might have more assignments in the future. I am more than pleased with this dagger”, he said before taking a bow. “And now... good night. Sleep well, blacksmith Mettel”, he whispered before turning around and walking away.
He left a thoroughly shocked and scared Lyria. She shouldn't tell anyone... Yet, something was wrong here. She could tell the city guard, just to make sure they would know about him. Wolfius could never find that out. But... how had he found out about Rosie?
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour] [Stay silent, as Wolfius requested]
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behavior]
Smashing chapter!
[Fight at the frontlines with Lord Crakehall] KILL WILFRED , KILL
[Stay silent, as Wolfius requested] I wouldn´t want to bother Wolfius
Awesome Chapter!!!!!!
And the other choice? XD
Oops, didn't see it due to the bold letters blending in on my PS4.
[Fight at the front lines with Lord Crakehall]
[Stay back with General Tallian]
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour]
[Inform the city]
[Stay back with General Tallian]
[Stay back with Lord Crakehall]
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behavior]
[Stay back with General Tallian] I think if he were to go to battle, Willifred would some how get almost killed, but Crakehall would bust in saving his life, but losing his in the process.
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour] This is for when Wolfius eventually kills Lyria for not allowing him to have his way with Rosalie. Because we all know that is going to happen.
[Stay back with General Tallian]
[Stay silent, as Wolfius requested]
I'd rather not have to deal with Wolfius again.
[Fight at the frontlines with Lord Crakehall]
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behavior]
[Fight at the front lines with Lord Crakehall]
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behavior]
[Fight at the frontlines with Lord Crakehall] I like to live dangerously.
[Inform the city guard of Wolfius' suspicious behaviour]
[stay back with general talian]
[inform the city guard of wolfius suspicious]
{Fight at the frontlines}
{Stay silent}