Parlay at Seven Bells

[Oznerol]

A small sept was the heart of a rather unimportant village, home of serfs with most undistinguished lifes. A village known by the smallfolk as Seven Bells, for the shrine had seven small silver bells, donated by the great-granfather of Garth Greybeard. Seven bells that ring with a melancholic tune that fateful morning, the thirtieth day since the death of the late Garth X Greybeard. His inheritance was a divided realm, almost destroyed by ambitious lordlings and foreign invaders. However, today Septon Ralph is nervous, his hands shaking as he polishes the silvery face of the Mother; horses, the sound of steel, fluttering banners. They had come, come to parlay under the gaze and the Light of the Seven. The septon muttered a prayer as he left the warm sept towards the scene unfolding before his eyes: a whole host of noblemen, great and small alike, all wearing armor, fur and costly fabrics, filling the air with swears, damnations and blasphemies. Garth Greybeard had only left two daughters and now the claimants would decide under the shadow of a humble sept who shall wear the vine crown of the Gardeners...

[Gandalfus]

A large retinue of armed knights, flying the banners of the Merman and the Green Hand, rode towards the sept. At their head rode a tall, lithe man with dark hair that stretched down to his cheekbones, a determined expression on his face. His armour was ornately decorated, and a steel sword hung at his hip. At his side rode a woman, although they paid little heed to one another. Halting before the sept, the man sniffed derisively, as if some foul odour had just entered his nostrils.

"This is it, is it not?"
He asked, without a hint of humour in his voice. Two brown eyes, robbed of warmth, glared at the Sept. Slowly, he dismounted, before dutifully offering a hand to his wife who still sat atop her horse.

[Oznerol]

Another retinue arrived to the village, riding under various banners of which the most prominent were those depicting a green hand on a white field. The last of the Gardeners, second cousin to the late king had arrived, having complied to the parlay between the opposing factions. He wore an ornate armor, the globets engraved with a design of vines; a surcoat covered the polished chesplate, embroidered with the Gardener's healdry repeated tenfold all over its surface. The bascinet rested on a mail coif, covering the elbows and the neck. Around the top of the helmet rested a crown made of thorns, in fact a hastily made one, done by Brightwater Keep's smith from assorted nails and an iron thread. The sword rested on a scabbard covered in green velvet. The horse had embroidered drappings, covered by green hands and foxes, for the Gardener was half a Florent. He was surprisingly tall, at least six feet, and towered over his retainers. However, he was lean and thin of limbs, his eyes scanned the surroundings while his knights rode around, shouting orders, hands in the swords' pommels or holding their large spears.
Gardener's face was melancholic and didn't not show his feelings, hieratic and statuesque atop his stallion. Several pages and squires surrounded him, but prominent among them was Ser Wyman Webber, swornsword and rumored lover of Mern Gardener, a well-built man that helped his lord unmount. Mern unmounted most gracefully, his manners and movements elegant and carefully orchestated.

[Dirty Chai]

Inside the sept sat a man with a dark, humble chaperone wrapped around his white hair, knelt before the shadowed shape of the father.
Little candles lit the small aired hall dimly, illuminating the musky air and drawing contrasting shade all around, behind pillars and obfuscating the faces of the wooden statues of the seven. They were little the statues, but still grand for such a small village - about the size of a young child.

There were a few men nearby the elderly noble, standing in armor and leather at the side of the sept, some sitting at benches placed beyond the pews, in the shadows, watching their master. He stood and turned as the hooves and neighs sounded beyond the walls, and paused to contemplate solemnly before walking to the front doors of the sept, his hands clasped together in front of him formally.

The septon, a nervous man named Ralph, opened the doors as the venerable knight came to them; light poured in from the fogged skies above, and the surrounding landscape revealed the first two arrivals.

A white and green fish-man at sea. Manderly.
A green hand on a white field. Gardener.

At face value, the steward wondered, it was strange they would consider another house's claim against a Gardener's, when he looked at the two banners, contrasting each other. But this Gardener was one Mern, distant as a second cousin to the old Greybeard. Manderly, and Peake for that matter, was married to the Greybeard's daughter.

The man exhaled calmly, awaiting hopefully the resolution of the conflict between the two and the one who had yet to arrive .. He feared that one party might not arrive, making this parlay thus futile. But the kingdom was in ruin. Even the mentioning of Highgarden was an issue of pain to pride for the steward. His forefathers had prevented such disasters at the court, why had he not been able to prevent this onslaught? If only he had had the foresight to pressure the king to name heir...

[Oznerol]

Gardener was given a scepter crowned by the hand of the Gardeners, which he held with one hand, the other peacefully resting on the sword's pommel. He walked slowly towards Tyrell and Manderly, surrounded by his retainers, including Webber, who stood an inch taller than the claimant, clad in a steel armor and with a surcoat depicting the spider of his house. Gardener stops by Tyrell's side and speaks with a calm, soft voice:

"Loyal stewart, regent of the Gardeners thou hast my salute"

He remarked the Gardeners name, subtly enough. He then looked at Manderly and his wife.

"And my salute extends to thee, our most noble cousins"

[Gandalfus]

Gardener was given a scepter crowned by the hand of the Gardeners, which he held with one hand, the other peacefully resting on the sword's pommel. He walked slowly towards Tyrell and Manderly, surrounded by his retainers, including Webber, who stood an inch taller than the claimant, clad in a steel armor and with a surcoat depicting the spider of his house. Gardener stops by Tyrell's side and speaks with a calm, soft voice:

"Loyal stewart, regent of the Gardeners thou hast my salute"

He remarked the Gardeners name, subtly enough. He then looked at Manderly and his wife.

"And my salute extends to thee, our most noble cousins"

Manderly stared coolly at the Gardener claimant, his expression changing little as he sized up the effeminate Princeling, who to him seemed more suited to be High Septon that a king. He made no move to bow, or even incline his head, instead remaining upright.

"Steward Tyrell. Cousin Mern. I pray you are well?"

His voice sounded cold and steely, a contrast to the soft and cultured Gardener.

[Oznerol]

Beside Mern Gardener strolled an older man dressed more somber and simple robes, fox furs lining in the coat the only visible luxury beside the bejeweled dirk in his belt. The man slowly gazed at the other arrivals, watching their every move while never letting the young Gardener out of sight. There were a collected calmness to the man.He was followed by a few knights in shining armour, on their surcoats the fox and flowers of House Florent. Kennet Florent had insisted on going instead of his brother Erren, who most likely would have turned the sept into a bloodbath at the drop of a hat. No, he thought to himself, sometimes words carry more strength than steel. Despite this, he sincerely doubted the notion that Manderly and Peake would willingly end the war.

Brightwater Keep had thankfully been spared the horrors of war, but only barely. Banditry still plagued the land, no matter how many men were sent out to disperse the rabble. With Highgarden itself burning and the king murdered in his own chambers, the prestige of the Reach had been utterly crushed. The longer the realm remained in chaos, the closer they would get to a point of no return. The war needed to end.

Kennet looked over at Tyrell. Always dutiful, always loyal to Highgarden, always the servant. The house had always been so close to power, yet they had never tried to usurp the Greenhand's dynasty. If it was truly out of loyalty the Florent could not say, but he did doubt it. Anyonw so close to the throne always held considerable sway over the politics of the realm, even if they the lowest of houses. Kennet did not trust them at all near his cousin.

Manderly stared coolly at the Gardener claimant, his expression changing little as he sized up the effeminate Princeling, who to him seemed more suited to be High Septon that a king. He made no move to bow, or even incline his head, instead remaining upright.

"Steward Tyrell. Cousin Mern. I pray you are well?"

His voice sounded cold and steely, a contrast to the soft and cultured Gardener.

Mern made a smirk, clearly disgusted by not being adressed as he desired. The scepter was held tighlty on his hand, the crown of iron thorns shone ominiously, a crown like his forefathers had brought to war.

"We pray for thy health as well, our beloved cousin"

Or the lack of it.

He only shows a cold disdain towards his Lady cousin.

That wench...

"I bet thou know our cousin of Florent, my most beloved and close relative, along his good uncle and brother"

The hand on the sword's pommel gestured towards Florent, the sly cousin of Mern. The might of Brigthwater Keep was widely known and they controlled the mouths of the Mander noneless. He knew their support would be costly, but after the war would be castles and lands to gift to his followers.

Among the Tyrell retinue stood a particular knight whose reputation was known among the court of Highgarden during the later reign of Garth X. This time, however, the Swornsword stood a few feet behind the High Steward as one of small bodyguard brought as protection during what the Lord of Manderford called privately as "a keg ready to explode." Ser Gwayne Footly, known as the Humble Knight, kept his posture at ease, noting the various other guards present in the service of all sorts of Lords, mainly the Peakes, Manderlys and Gardeners. Ser Gwayne suspected that the High Steward would support the true and agnatic Gardener claim, after all, the Tyrells were known as the most faithful of House Gardener's servants since the time of Gwayne V's champion, Ser Alester, the Andal ancestor of House Tyrell. Yet the Humble Knight kept his lips tight on his own loyalties and waited to see what Lord Tyrell would do. Whatever the decision would be, the swornsword hoped it was the right choice....

=========================================================

A formal delegation would arrive from House Hightower, which contained not a trace of the recently succeeded, Lord Arthor 'Little Tower.' Instead, a cousin was sent in his stead, known as Septon Luthor of the Lord's Sept, as well as an attendant from High Tower, a middle-aged man wearing the crest of House Blackbar. Septon Luthor was a personal confessor and Septon of House Hightower. The cousin was close to his white hair days as his raven dark hair was heavily replaced with grey and white colors. Very few of his youthful color remained; in fact, very little hair remained on the top as Luthor was a balding man; thin and aged, but still able to walk and talk without any delay. Septon Luthor was escorted by members of the High Tower Guard, knights in the personal service of the High Lord of the Honeywine. It was a privilege due to the Septon's relation to the reigning High Lord as a cousin.

Luthor would enter the isolated parlay location alongside a couple swornswords. After making such a trek from his home of Oldtown, the Septon would turn to the door, watching a comfortable seat being brought in by one of the retainers. He quietly thanked the Ser before taking a seat to rest his old legs. His eyes scanned around at those present. He glanced up at the standing Blackbar attendant who nodded quietly before the Septon returned his gaze to those present. After a moment of thinking, the Septon makes his own formal introduction.

I am Septon Luthor of the Lord's Sept in Oldtown, a cousin of the reigning Hightower, Lord Arthor 'Little Tower.' I have been appointed to act as a representative for House Hightower, Oldtown, and the interests of my Lord Hightower. With me is Ser Blackbar, an attendant in the service of Little Tower. He has been sent to speak on behalf of Oldtown as well.

Mern raised his right hand to salute the septon, respectfully, nodding with his head. Unknown to everyone else Gardener had trained hard to control his stammering, until then he had managed to avoid it but it required sheer strenght of will. He spelled words cautiously.

"We are glad that not only the House Hightower is represented, but the Queen of Cities itself and the very Faith, who we have sworn to protect and defend wholeheartedly"

[Poach]

Cautiously a group of riders approached the village, displaying no banners openly and riding with weapons drawn. The guards, a mix of Manderly and Peake men that eyed each other warily, instinctively bunched together, each expecting the other of setting a trap of some kind.

Dismounting at the villages edge, the group split: most stayed with the horses, while four men came forward. Reaching the door of the Sept, a Peake and a Manderly knight at each side of the door stepped in front of it and stated their challenge.

Removing his helm, the young man spoke, "I am Ser Godric, son of Lord Osgrey, come as his representative. With me is Sers Brent, Oakheart and Webber, representing three of our principle vassals. We come to witness this last attempt at peace."

Lord Harren Osgrey had forbade any of his Lords, or their heirs, from attending. He would not risk his own line, or the lines of his vassals, should the parlay turn into a bloodbath, as many privately expected. Godric and a collection of third sons or trusted knights had went instead in order to show face. Their instructions were to retreat with all haste should it come to blows, as the Lords of the Northmarch had yet to decide who, if any, they would throw their lot in with.

[Jokern]

Beside Mern Gardener strolled an older man dressed more somber and simple robes, fox furs lining in the coat the only visible luxury beside the bejeweled dirk in his belt. The man slowly gazed at the other arrivals, watching their every move while never letting the young Gardener out of sight. There were a collected calmness to the man.He was followed by a few knights in shining armour, on their surcoats the fox and flowers of House Florent. Kennet Florent had insisted on going instead of his brother Erren, who most likely would have turned the sept into a bloodbath at the drop of a hat. No, he thought to himself, sometimes words carry more strength than steel. Despite this, he sincerely doubted the notion that Manderly and Peake would willingly end the war.

Brightwater Keep had thankfully been spared the horrors of war, but only barely. Banditry still plagued the land, no matter how many men were sent out to disperse the rabble. With Highgarden itself burning and the king murdered in his own chambers, the prestige of the Reach had been utterly crushed. The longer the realm remained in chaos, the closer they would get to a point of no return. The war needed to end.

Kennet looked over at Tyrell. Always dutiful, always loyal to Highgarden, always the servant. The house had always been so close to power, yet they had never tried to usurp the Greenhand's dynasty. If it was truly out of loyalty the Florent could not say, but he did doubt it. Anyonw so close to the throne always held considerable sway over the politics of the realm, even if they the lowest of houses. Kennet did not trust them at all near his cousin.

[Lucius Malfoy]

Among the Tyrell retinue stood a particular knight whose reputation was known among the court of Highgarden during the later reign of Garth X. This time, however, the Swornsword stood a few feet behind the High Steward as one of small bodyguard brought as protection during what the Lord of Manderford called privately as "a keg ready to explode." Ser Gwayne Footly, known as the Humble Knight, kept his posture at ease, noting the various other guards present in the service of all sorts of Lords, mainly the Peakes, Manderlys and Gardeners. Ser Gwayne suspected that the High Steward would support the true and agnatic Gardener claim, after all, the Tyrells were known as the most faithful of House Gardener's servants since the time of Gwayne V's champion, Ser Alester, the Andal ancestor of House Tyrell. Yet the Humble Knight kept his lips tight on his own loyalties and waited to see what Lord Tyrell would do. Whatever the decision would be, the swornsword hoped it was the right choice....

=========================================================

A formal delegation would arrive from House Hightower, which contained not a trace of the recently succeeded, Lord Arthor 'Little Tower.' Instead, a cousin was sent in his stead, known as Septon Luthor of the Lord's Sept, as well as an attendant from High Tower, a middle-aged man wearing the crest of House Blackbar. Septon Luthor was a personal confessor and Septon of House Hightower. The cousin was close to his white hair days as his raven dark hair was heavily replaced with grey and white colors. Very few of his youthful color remained; in fact, very little hair remained on the top as Luthor was a balding man; thin and aged, but still able to walk and talk without any delay. Septon Luthor was escorted by members of the High Tower Guard, knights in the personal service of the High Lord of the Honeywine. It was a privilege due to the Septon's relation to the reigning High Lord as a cousin.

Luthor would enter the isolated parlay location alongside a couple swornswords. After making such a trek from his home of Oldtown, the Septon would turn to the door, watching a comfortable seat being brought in by one of the retainers. He quietly thanked the Ser before taking a seat to rest his old legs. His eyes scanned around at those present. He glanced up at the standing Blackbar attendant who nodded quietly before the Septon returned his gaze to those present. After a moment of thinking, the Septon makes his own formal introduction.

I am Septon Luthor of the Lord's Sept in Oldtown, a cousin of the reigning Hightower, Lord Arthor 'Little Tower.' I have been appointed to act as a representative for House Hightower, Oldtown, and the interests of my Lord Hightower. With me is Ser Blackbar, an attendant in the service of Little Tower. He has been sent to speak on behalf of Oldtown as well.

[The Mad Skylord]

Lord Lorimar Peake arrived deliberately late. He had been tempted not to come at all. He cared not what these fools and beggars desired, his wife, Tyene, would be Queen of the Reach. He had, however, decided that it would be a good time to make allies, and that showing face would be politically sound. So he arrived, with a band of knights and advisers, dressed splendidly. He had made sure to come without armour, determined that Manderly should look a bloodthirsty dog in comparison to him. He wore a richly embroidered orange doublet, that hung halfway down his thighs. His breeches were made of the finest leather. He wore a long black cloak, fastened at the neck by a gold brooch - in the shape of a castle. His hands were gloved, but the fact his right hand was paralyzed was painfully obvious - not that he cared, men still trembled at the memory of Lorimar Peake with a sword in hand. His sword was sheathed in a black scabbard, decorated in silver thread and his sword had a simple hilt, nothing but steel and a little bit of silver, with a ruby sat in the center of the cross guard.

His retinue were dressed splendidly, but they had copied their lord - none wore armour. The only armoured men in the company were a band of the elite Starpike Guards, here to guard the Queen and her consort. 100 of these men were Lord Peake's guards, mounted. The other 100 were the guards of Lady Tyene, they marched on foot.

The Peake banner of 3 black castles on an orange background and the Gardener banner of a green hand on a white background fluttered at the front of the column, gaily. Behind them fluttered the banners of the vassals of Starpike.

While Lord Peake and his direct retinue had come unarmoured, it was clear he had brought such a large contingent of guards - mainly for the safety of his beloved wife his vassals knew - because he expected there to be a battle. He was determined that if it should come to that, his wife would be safe. It was rumoured that the only things Lorimar Peake loved were his wife and his children - surprisingly, the rumours were correct. Lord Peake adored the very ground his wife and children walked on - although he tried to hide it.

He saw that Gardener and Manderly had already arrived. "Ha!" he thought to himself quietly "The boy-lover and the mad fishman!" He simply ignored them and continued to the center of the square, just in front of the Sept, to dismount. It was all a show of power, his wife had the strongest claim and he would show it. He waited for his wife to exit the carriage, intending to announce her...

[Gandalfus]

Manderly watched Peake arrive with a small smile on his face, his head turning to the pompous procession that paraded towards the sept. Slowly and sarcastically he clapped, only stopping when Peake finally dismounted his horse.

"It seems that Lorimar Peake cannot even carry himself humbly before the Seven." He dryly remarked, and his retainers smirked and chortled. Some of these men bore grudges with Peake and their vassals that stretched back decades, with few remembering the cause of said quarrels.

"Gentlemen." He said calmly, looking back towards Tyrell and Gardener, "Our business begins."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned, and entered the Sept, followed by his wife and a few trusted retainers.

[Oznerol]

Upstarts.

*sigh*

He wavered at his men direction and nodded towards Florent, grabbing his shoulder. Mern whispered into Florent's ear:

"The worst of these two pretenders arrived; Peake is but a brute, don't you agree, cousin?"

He then followed suit, they'd have to discuss about the inheritance of the realm. Clearly, Mern wouldn't step back a sole inch. Those would-be usurpers would have to put their unlawful claims. Among Mern's retainers were a couple of maesters and a septon.

"We do agree, my Lord Manderly"

[Jokern]

Upstarts.

*sigh*

He wavered at his men direction and nodded towards Florent, grabbing his shoulder. Mern whispered into Florent's ear:

"The worst of these two pretenders arrived; Peake is but a brute, don't you agree, cousin?"

He then followed suit, they'd have to discuss about the inheritance of the realm. Clearly, Mern wouldn't step back a sole inch. Those would-be usurpers would have to put their unlawful claims. Among Mern's retainers were a couple of maesters and a septon.

"We do agree, my Lord Manderly"

Florent nodded, watching Lord Peake and the would-be Queen Tyene enter the sept. He whispered back to his cousin.

"Quite true, yet caution is the greatest virtue near men like him. Who knows what he'll do if moved to anger, so I would advise you to not provoke him, cousin. We are at a disadvantage and the last thing we need is to taint these holy walls with blood."

If it had been up to him, Kennet would not have let Mern attend a parlay that obviously would go nowhere and may even lead to a slaughter. Yet Mern had gone, and none better for diplomacy than the younger Florent.

[Oznerol]

Florent nodded, watching Lord Peake and the would-be Queen Tyene enter the sept. He whispered back to his cousin.

"Quite true, yet caution is the greatest virtue near men like him. Who knows what he'll do if moved to anger, so I would advise you to not provoke him, cousin. We are at a disadvantage and the last thing we need is to taint these holy walls with blood."

If it had been up to him, Kennet would not have let Mern attend a parlay that obviously would go nowhere and may even lead to a slaughter. Yet Mern had gone, and none better for diplomacy than the younger Florent.

Mern nodded.

"I will follow your advice, cousin. It will be done as you say, I shall not provoke him and our men will be watchful. But we have to look for a peaceful solution before we come to blows, which is so uncivilized"

Even if he looked soft and wasn't particularly a warrior Mern was resourceful. And Webber made the part of a bodyguard, the tall knight stood next to Mern. Wyman came from a cadet branch of the Webber and he had been Mern's closest friend for years. Gardener joined Manderly, Peake and the so-called Queens, when there wasn't more Kings than he. He had come in hope to find more supporters for his cause and of course, study his rivals. Florent's presence made everything easier as he stood by his right.

Gardener saluted the nervous septon, who saluted him back with respect.

[Adamat]

Queen Tyene, as she styled herself, had travelled with her husband and their guard in a carriage, surrounded by a few ladies in waiting. She had dressed regally for the occasion, wearing a long green dress made of the finest fabric money could buy. She had contemplated wearing a crown, but had decided against it. Humility is a virtue well looked upon, and besides, she was the rightful Queen of the Reach. No crown would make her claim stronger.

As the carriage slowly came to a stop, she prepared to greet all the other attendees of the parlay. She wondered if her sister would have come in person, and was certain she would finally see her second cousin Mern. Oh, the nerve that ingrate had, turning on his family so handily for a crown. She would have his head later.

One of her personal guard opened the door of the carriage, and Lady Tyene slowly but gracefully exited. Her husband, standing in the middle of the square, should introduce her as she came up to his side, and looked upon the would-be usurpers.

[The Mad Skylord]

Lorimar held out his crippled hand to his wife gently, a sliver of affection showing for a moment, before he announced calmly and boldly. "Tyene Peake-Gardener, Queen of the Reach."

From there, he walked into the Sept with his lady wife. The sooner this was over, the sooner he could get back to preparing to hammer Manderly and Gardener into the ground...

[jacb547]

The most keen eyes in the village could spot a small party of riders arriving from the west, at the head of the column came a banner bearer and even from the distance it was possible to identify the iron and oak of House Hewett. As they neared the small hamlet it was possible to pinpoint that the band was formed by about two dozen men, armoured and armed with shiny steel except for one, clearly the leader. As this leader approached his figure could be made out: A slim yet strong youth, with flowing black hair and a stubby beard, he was fair of face and manners and wore a gambeson of white and brown with a pin bearing the arms of House Hewett. The rest was clad in armour, from neck to toe and his helm was borne beneath the arm while his sword was strapped to a leather hilt at his side, nothing too adorned. The young man spoke, adressing none in particular:

"My name is Tyler, of House Hewett. I am here to represent my father, the right honourable Lord of Oakenshield, Dean Hewett. I am before you authorized to speak his will and relay the details of this meeting for peace to him. With me are representatives of Houses Grimm, Chester and Serry our greatest vassals."

With this said Tyler dismounted his horse, a fearsome black stallion and joined the other representatives, of course seeking not the sort of attention given to the claimants. His party also dismounted and followed their lord, they had travelled by ship as far as they dared along the Mander, then by horse until they reached the village but if they were tired and weary of the journey they did not show it.

[Poach]

The four men of the Northmarch joined the procession entering the Sept, which was rapidly filling up. Hands resting firmly on the hilts of their swords, eyes always keen, the four positioned themselves near one of the Sept's generous windows: it could serve as a fast way out in an emergency. Godric had simple instructions: hear the three claimants out and report back to Coldmoat with the lay of the land. The Northmarch had fourteen thousand men, a substantial force beaten only by Oldtown and Highgarden itself, but one which always watched northwards. To abandon the Reach's borders against a foe as powerful as the Kingdom of the Rock could not be done lightly.

[Dirty Chai]

Osmund Tyrell, "High Steward" as he was addressed by several arrivals, eyed each of the parties as they came up to the doors of the small sept.

First came the Gardener, who when close took an ornate scepter into one hand and then placed the other hand up on the pommel of sheathed, bejeweled blade.
He approached forward carefully, Tyrell noticed; one could see it as a gracefulness and acculturation, or one could see it as a presumptuous show, a figure trying to present a moving image to an audience to project power. Both were probably true.

Mern addressed Osmund as if he served Mern, but it was clear in Osmund's view: Osmund served none other than the King of the Reach, and he served no man here, so none of them were king. Perhaps most importantly, none of them controlled Highgarden, and the Peakes and Manderly's quarreled in the eastern heartlands while it grew cobwebs over cooled coals and piles of white ash.

Beside Mern was a Florent, a younger brother of the Lord in Brightwater.
These Florents were not unlike Osmund in some ways that he had recognized over the years, though their heritage was old and akin to all the other ancient roots reaching into the depths of the Reach's soil. Here, this Florent resembled a loyal dog - just as Osmund's family was. One would think that the Florents and the Tyrells would have interests in common, then, but Osmund knew better.

The High Steward simply nodded to Mern in response, respectfully, and then turned to eye the next approach.

Manderly. The dark-haired man revealed nothing but a cold disposition to all but a few.
"Brother-in-law," Tyrell again nodded his head respectfully, acknowledging their relation by marriage, though irrelevant it felt now when after all this time Tyrell had still not chosen to side with his so-called brother-in-law.

Then the third pretender arrived, bringing a carriage with him.
He seemed to roar into the camp - appearing as the third kind of animal among his two enemies, in Osmund's eyes.
Lord Peake brought with him a horde of swords, it seemed, as well - professing a certain desire to appear powerful.

Then came disparate representatives from Osgrey in the north, Hightower in the south, and Hewett from the sea.
The Steward nearly ignored all else but the three men who headed the different claimants - to be true, he feared whether the presence of the other nobles would project violence and beastly behavior onto the meeting, as onlookers egging on a fight. These other families.. their presence was not for the best, he feared.
But, again, he ignored them.

When Manderly abruptly suggested they should go inside and move forwards with the white meeting, Tyrell smiled politely, backing to the sept.
He gestured inside, "Lords, prince, come inside, and let no man draw a blade here."

Tyrell looked out to all, and raised his voice, "As per the agreement of this sacred parlay, no house, lord, or party may bring more than three followers into the sept with him.." He glanced at the two daughters of Greybeard, finally noticing their presence, ".. excepting the two princesses, of course."

With that, the High Steward turned and led the way into the sept, back towards where he had been praying before the form of the Father.