Volume II: Dark wings, dark words
Maester Helman had been watching the skies all day. The sun had rose to noon, and the maester was thinking about what to have his page fetch him for lunch, while watching the clouds. Helman saw an army of dragons in the sky against a wall of spears, slowly moving together.
How eccentric i am becoming. Staring at clouds all day. If everyday routine was dull, everyday routine during a siege was dreadful. He told the boy to get him honeyed wine, twice the usual amount, and tomato soup. That's when he saw them. Three black dots from the south, over the Lannister camp. They could be none other than ravens from Highgarden. One fell, from a westerlander's arrow, and landed with a splash in the Mander.
Derwent
Here was a man with a silly name, but no one would dare tell him that. Derwent wore a massive sallet helmet, and a mail hauberk sized for an arouchs. He wouldn't waste his time watching clouds or ravens, but when the call was made, no sport was better than ravening. King Lancel would offer a gold lion to any archer that brought down a raven, and presented its body and the message to him. The first raven went down, into the river.
Fool. Enjoy your bath. He thought as the man who shot it gave an excited, incredulous shout, and ran off. Derwent snatched a broadhead and a flight, along with his laminated yew longbow. He stuck the flight in the dirt, and got into stance. He located the furthest raven, and pulled the string. Lesser men could not draw it to their nose without ruining their arms permanently, but Derwent held it firmly as he adjusted his stance. From there, you couldn't think. He released.
The broadhead sailed true unto its mark. The raven fell just outside the camp. He loaded the flight quickly, and drew. The damned bird was almost over the castle walls. Without another thought, the arrow was flying, much faster than any raven could dream of. And it missed.
Helman
The second raven fell to the earth heavy. A man ran out to the river hopelessly, yet changed direction, and ran for the second, bow in hand. The final bird was still in flight. Many arrows launched after it, but they no longer had the range to get near the bird. It flew over the walls of Goldengrove. However, it wasn't alone. A last arrow came silent over the battlements, and the soldiers dicing on them, above the bird. The maester yelped as it sheared through the curtains nearby.
A great clattering and clanging rung behind Helman. He turned around, and his lunch was spilled all over the floor. The boy who brought it was on his knees trying to clean it up. Exasperation turned to shock as Helman saw the purple wine turn red. And not with tomato soup.
Martyn
"My prince, the Maester is without, and seeks an audience." "Yes, Alvar, send him in." Maester Helman approached Martyn. Helman was a reserved, aloof character, but something on his face betrayed the usual Helman. "A raven from the south, My lord." he said, plainly.
Dark wings, dark words, they say. He broke the wax and opened the letter. It was in fact, not from Highgarden, but from Lord Osgrey. It was written in the language of the first men, from whom the reachmen are decended from. This intrigued Martyn. He decided to translate it himself. It took only about a minute. It said simply: We relieve the castle at the setting sun. Be ready.