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The Council
Tweet Topic Started: Aug 6 2016, 06:12 PM (38 Views)
[Moderator] RPAccount Aug 6 2016, 06:12 PM Post #1

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Casterly Rock, the great fortress of House Lannister, loomed large in the Autumn gales. The torches burned along in the sconces, bringing light to the labyrinthine network of tunnels that made up its structure.

Gerold sat in the council chamber, listening to his advisors. All strangers, and likely under qualified, they nonetheless managed to do the tasks he assigned them. The room featured a heavy oak table, the sigil of House Lannister carved into the center. A thick Myrish carpet covered the cold, rock, floor. A single decanter sat in the center, filled with a dornish red that sat untouched by the councilors.

“What about the state of our food stores? Will they be ready in time?” Gerold glanced around the room, looking at wide eyes and pained expressions. “Anybody? Does anybody know?”

“My Lord,” said Maester Rodrik. He was a young man, and the third Maester of the Rock that year. The other two had perished from the plague, but Gerold’s hope was that this one would last. “Due to the plague, our harvests have been small. We have enough for a short winter, but if it lasts more than a year or so, we may have to purchase food from the Reach.”

Gerold sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. Ever since he had claimed the Rock, things had been difficult. He had lived his entire adult life in Lannisport, in a richly appointed estate with his family. He had married a Crakehall, and she had given him two beautiful children. And like swarms of others, they had died as a result of the plague. The Rock itself was woefully understaffed, the servants decimated at the same rate of the nobility. Here, holed up as they were in the fortress, the disease had festered and very nearly wiped out the entire line. From what Gerold could tell, he and a few young cousins were all that remained of the male line.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.”

Even those that survived the plague, rare though they were, were scarred for life. Large boils covered the skin of the infected, and left ringed scars when they subsided. Those lucky few that survived it spoke of terrible pain, high fevers, and senseless dreams full of pain.

“About the matter of your holdfasts, many of them lost the knights in charge,” said Ser Tyland, the sole remaining member of Lord Jason’s original council. The others had either died in the plague, or been replaced by Gerold when he deemed them incompetent. Tyland though, he kept. He found he valued the man’s willingness to tell hard truths. “We need to man them if we are to guarantee the protection of your vassals. When winter comes, people will stop at nothing to feed themselves.”

“How will we man them? We are spread thin as it is.”

“We can’t man them well,” Tyland said, leaning closer to his liege. “But we can put a few bodies at each one, and tell the smallfolk they’re fully manned. That may dissuade a few attackers.”

“Do it,” Gerold said simply, glancing around the room. “Take what you need from Lannisport. Anyone who is able bodied and isn’t working will find a job, be it trying to eke out one more harvest, or wearing mail and pretending to be a soldier.”

“Is there anything else?”

The maester spoke again. “My Lord,” He said, clearing his throat, “I have letters for you.” He gestured to the pile of parchment on the table. “These are all marriage proposals, offering daughters and sisters for you to choose from.”

Gerold sighed. Marriage proposals had become routine, many houses seeking to take advantage of his widower status. “Who are they from?”

“Well, we have one from the Estrens, Drax, Reyne, the Blackwoods-”

“Essentially everyone with a daughter or sister of childbearing age,” Tyland cut in, to Gerold's delight.

“Please, write them and tell them I am politely declining,” Gerold said, standing up. “Inform them that I’m considering several.” That was a lie. He was in no rush to be wed again so soon after the tragedy that stole his wife and children. “If anybody needs me, I will be in my chambers.”

With that, Gerold took his leave, eager to shut himself away once more.
Edited by RPAccount, Aug 6 2016, 07:03 PM.
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