#cedric004

[omerflorent]

who: @visxionaries summary: high commander omer florent takes a walk with king cedric tyrell to show him something he's been working on in his free time along with telling him some plans he's been coming up with to increase the presence of the reach's security and military.

"I've been working. Focusing. Improving. We will have a cut of the new uniforms soon, it would separate our knights from all others. And there has been a new initiatives started that will take place over time. We are planning taking in men to be conscripted as soldiers. The North have a standing army and I believe the Vale has one as well or it's only rumor. Alas, we want our name in these rumors. Our population grew during the dance, influx of folk who came in to hide form the fighting. Brightwater took in many. I've sent men out to take those numbers."

Omer was stressed. The pain in his arm came and went, his avoidance of milk of the poppy and whisky left him in a strange place. He smoked his hand rolls, some times he went to join Tirius when smoking his hookah. But most days, while he and his wife were working separately he focused in, zeroed in and as a result he came of with many things. So, while he walked with the King along a private path he shared much with him. He would show him the main point of this walk soon.

"If we conscript them we can start putting men on small parcels of land to farm and take care of as part of their service. Men are more willing to fight when they have something to fight for and we've so much land. That and the taxes would be … a windfall. I don't know much about coin but I've started this in Brightwater and perhaps you've taken note of the increased payments coming from my lands. It's not much yet but it's only going to grow."

[tiriusrowan]

Tirius wished to drag his hand across the face of High Septon but he knew that would never be approved. He knew there was only so much his people would do and he knew they would simply agree to not taking up arms for the man should a call ever come. His wife was gone, his son left, his eldest son in a rage, his youngest son the only one safe and his girls were in a silent misery more and more everyday. He did not know what to do as the world around him seemed to rip at the seams. All he ever heard was people speaking of the world caving in on them, the world crushing and suffocating them.

This was different. He could hear the seams starting to rip and he could feel gusts of cold air brushing over him, waking him up in the middle of the night in a terror. He looked down and then back at the King in front of him. This world had been cruel to him in a way. In the same way it cruel to them all. How much more would be taken from them?

"No, no. Let him stay where he is. His mother has been informed." She would receive the raven, he did not need the letter to be returned to them. Minimal communication would be required.

"I will brief the master of laws on the matter once the resolution has been completed, once desires have been reached." Tirius felt sick for a moment, he inhaled and exhaled, stood up straighter if it were possible.

The stress clear on him, sprinkles of graying hair through his beard and his hair. Sleep would come soon and it would take him unawares as it had been lately.

"These documents will also include the notice that Tarik Rowan holds no ties over his previous birthright."

♠

simply by the answer, or lack of a verbal answer, that was issued from the eldest lord of house rowan, cedric tyrell there would no way to try and mediate the matter. it came with a personal loss to his own interests, considering house rowan was one of the few houses of the reach still willing to engage with the high septon on behalf of the king - and whilst cedric could decree it, he understood all too well the backlash would not be worth bringing such unease to the council chamber.

they would need to find another willing to act as the branch between the glass crown, and the actual crown. the one that could shatter, and the solid.

"then you must do as you will, my lord." cedric responded, a brief thought flickering over his mind: it became apparent that tirius had stated house rowan would not be associating with the high septon any further. he briefly wondered whether that would also equate to his younger brother, who had made it clear as much as he wished to be involved in where he could help, there were also lines he would not cross. cedric would say nothing on the matter, but ask mathis at a later time whether he sought to follow in his brother's footsteps. "i ask you only consider a replacement."

he noted tirius did not confirm what it was he was seeking out from the high septon, and it intrigued him; usually the man was frank about matters, and yet, his privacy only indicated that there was some storm swirling. "i can send forward an envoy regarding your son." cedric spoke, his words casual; there was so much pride that hung over tirius rowan, more than other men he had come across in his life.

the last thing he needed was his hand thinking he were trying to involve himself in fixing his household. a child had run away from his father; where in westeros, the father had all legal rights over the child. "the ambassador will make it clear should lys wish to maintain neutral ties with the reach, the child need return." that could put tarik in danger, too.

[tiriusrowan]

Tirius did not change expression because he stood before the king. It took every once of control over his face to prevent his brow from furrowing in confusion and irritation. This was the place of the King. He needed to make sure all bases were covered. And Tirius never made an issue of anything he could handle himself. It was his way. And his king, a man he watched grow from mischievous boy to cunning king. knew that as well as he knew all bases had been covered before this conversation. That was a reminder for himself.

The Hand nodded, they were on the same page. This was more than the pride of Hosue Rowan and the safety of the Old Way. This, this was the part where position took over belief. What sort of High Septon when out of his way to do these things? Involve himself in these matters. Why push it so far and lose such support? Support that even his devoted mother questioned before the guilt silenced her. Tirius felt no such guilt. All he did, all he had, it was all provided by the Gods. As was the vengeance, the wrath that came from a man who wore the support of the Gods proudly. The Gods who guided his hands when he avenged his fallen brother.

Or were they mocking him? Testing him? Did he fail the test of the Gods because of the ego of men? Surely the Gods would not expect more from them, another test, another fucking journey. Tirius Rowan felt himself angry at the Gods and at the Septs that propped up those who were unworthy. The Most Devout were useless pawns of the Hightower and with no guidance they allowed some street urchin to rise above his place. And it wouldn't be so bad if they didn't all prove to be the same once they became someone.

Every nobody rose with a chip on their shoulder and much like Criston Cole the chip would always be knocked off and an arrow would rip through their throats.

♠

and then came the thought to cedric tyrell, the thought which would have him wonder what it was exactly that was so detrimental the hand of the king needed to speak witn the high septon so urgently. there was little tirius rowan went to get permission for, years of ruling goldengrove causing him to experience responsibility at far earlier an age than cedric himself. but with responsibility came a choice of freedom he had fought for, in who he would claim was to be his future lady wife.

"and is there no way this matter could have been a misinterpretation of some sort, my lord?" cedric asked, knowing the answer to the question before he even asked it. for even if it was some misunderstanding, tirius rowan would not seek out any confirmation of it being so, or discuss it.

all in the reach and even beyond it knew of the shockwaves that spread across the feasting halls of old way communities to hear the future ruling lord of goldengrove had brought home a lyseni woman as his bride - not wife to be, but his bride. cedric himself remembered being a younger boy, sat at the table with mathis in goldengrove, noting the tension that was so clear in the air. at mention of the late lord hightower, cedric nodded slightly, a slight hint of amusement within ocean hues.

"then know we are on the same page. i have not taken my eyes from that goal." cedric reassured, in reminding of what it was they sought to work toward. to celebrate. he had always thought himself good at multitasking, until he needed to handle his passions with his reality. "and is this amicable resolution not one that can be aided through my hand?"

[omerflorent]

“I thought you would say that so I sent some of my brightest from Brightwater to check the lands around Tumbleton. The soil is still good, nothing that cannot be saved in some areas. With enough people working the land we will continue to be the bread basket of the region while also increasing fortifications.” All around them people were gearing up and preparing for their own standing armies. The West and the North seemed to be ahead of them in many ways. Omer knew they could top them in the way that mattered. Numbers. They had the numbers to protect themselves, if they added training to those numbers it would only be improved.

Omer nodded, he would speak with their master of laws and make sure things were written up properly. He wanted to start right away. With a proper training then even when brigands came upon small villages they would have men who could fight with more than just their tools. Even if it wasn’t with the best swords it was better than shovels and picks. There was so much land in the Reach and based off his maps there was much and more that would fill the coffers with taxes and the songs with Reachly warriors.

“I will start to put together a force of men capable of training them with different weapons, nothing too serious that would take away farming but enough to protect themselves. With farms come villages. And with villages come brigands.” And while he wasn’t going to start in with his ideas for patrolling the Rose Road and going over the desires of one day being able to push into those unsettled areas of the marches and claim them for himself.

“I’ve another matter to discuss with you. Weaponry.” Omer stopped before the table set up for them and picked up the crossbow sitting on it. I call it a repeating crossbow.” He raised up the iron hand and placed it under the crossbow, his finger on the trigger. “The maester claimed it was used in Yi-Ti or some place.” He pulled the trigger and then pulled it again and then a third time. “No reloading. I can do this 4 more times according to the Maester. It’s a slow reload process but that can be mitigated with enough archers and crossbowmen with their average crossbows. Here. Aim at the practice dummy.”

♠

"i have." cedric tyrell had not noticed the increasing stress, or fixation, that had come over his cousin. it was natural for the high commander to find himself engrossed in matters that were far more akin to his abilities, rather than bound to serve through the wielding of a sword as a constant presence, a constant shield. such breadth allowed for him to experiment with matters which he found intense personal interest - matters which cedric, found no interest in.

"there is much of it that remains still in need of resettling." cedric spoke, his hands resting on either of his sides as they walked through the path of these gardens. "the farmland specifically around tumbleton." it was another place cedric sought to seek reform in: the agricultural sector. he had once reminded a fool their gold grew in the ground.

but the innovative side of it? the drawing board? it was not hardly to see glimmers of the golden son of highgarden in such moments: not by his own hand, but rather in the way he established a strong pattern of patronage. gold must be used for betterment on all fronts. a standing army would make their society one rooted in military action; provide a certain label for them. and truthfully, cedric found himself wondering whether that was the image that fit the reach.

he understood regardless of what policies and laws they passed, there was only so much they could do to make the pieces fall together in place. "140 acres in return for mandatory conscription."

military logistics were hardly the enjoyment of the man, and yet, they were a priority of it: considering the reach had made their stance toward the summer isles inherently known, cedric understood that in his forwardness, he had sown seeds of tension and anger between his realm and dorne. even more so than before. this was the time they would need to increase their military strategy, for reachmen were not skilled in matters of gureilla warfare as were the dornish, the valemen, or the crannogmen of the swamp.

[tiriusrowan]

"Yes, it is quite a shame that things have dissolved so much. One hoped that the foolishness of the late Lord Hightower wouldn't extend through his city, alas, it has." It has infected every part of the port city of Oldtown. He wouldn't be surprised to learn the man over the Citadel was equally a fool who wished to overstate his importance. Tirius hated when people over started their importance.

"The matter, one that I often to handle well. Matters that I often wish to reach an amicable resolution on are of the utmost importance to me. For I share my King's desire to see a renaissance of the arts and a peace time that continues to flourish for years to come even as we work to strengthen our hold on the seas."

Tirius knew there were more important matters but this struck him. Were they being singled out like the people of the North? Would they have people show up to their door and demand blood? He did not know but what he did know was that he would not wait to see what would happen. It was important to confront things head on. And when it came time for him to meet with the leaders of his community he would have to let them know.

"You know what they did to Manal Manderly, if not I will tell you that they hanged her from a rope everyday, shaved her head, and she died due to their treatment. House Rowan will not stand in the way of any efforts made to correct course."

♠

it had taken a matter of hours for the cursed name to be brought up to cedric tyrell's attention once again; truthfully there was not a day which passed in which the king of thorns and roses was not informed about some other movement that had taken place within the starry. it had begun to feel as though the king and his men had established a constant set of eyes upon the man and his followers, and this in itself was enough to cause cedric tyrell to become irritable.

"we've returned from such a day, lord rowan. you take up no time." cedric responded, his leather glove remaining on his steed for a moment before one of the stable boys reached forward to escort the king's horse away and into a place of warmth.

the last thing he wished to get himself wrapped up in was further conflict between the conduction of state affairs, and the faith; they had been separate, they would continue to be separate. he found himself bracing for whatever it was he was soon to hear, though if it were urgent, he was sure he would have been called into a sudden meeting. the religious talk was something he found he needed to pay extra attention to in order to gage and understand; but he knew there were septons of the old way, adhering to the practices of the community. those who prayed five times a day, and fasted during this time of year.

"and was it the fact he sent you a different septon that was the issue?" cedric asked. was it that big of a deal? as tirius went on, cedric stilled. because in those words, it had been made clear the insult had gone too far to be reworked. "so much for you are all one in the eyes of the seven." cedric uttered, his tone almost dry as he stood beside the hand of the king.

that did not take away from his understanding that the current high septon would need to be removed from his position in some way or another. it could not be down to poison, or murder; for whilst he angered the nobles with his inference, the smallfolk had grown to love his personable nature. a facade, no doubt; but of all the realms in the continent, the smallfolk of the reach were too bountiful to push away. following the war, cedric needed to make slow, tactical decisions - rather than behave rashly.

"a shame, considering you were able to speak to him of the crown's guidance. more of his pillars fall by the day."

[tiriusrowan]

One would never question whether or not Tirius Rowan was a man of pride. Perhaps his greatest sin was the pride he bore. And it took a lot for a man like Tirius to approach another for permission to do what needed to be done. And it was his Septon, the man who had been involved in his schooling and the schooling of his children, who said it was the only way. And then, then, it was the High Septon. The Most High of their faith on their realm decided that he would reject the letter.

His reasoning was enough to make Tirius want to mount his horse, ride into the Starry Sept with his men and then slap the High Septon in his face. But, he did not. He remained calm. He sat within his solar and he looked tot he Gods for their guidance, was this a punishment for his recent failures? Was he damned? Was his family damned?

And then. Fucking then, Tahir came to him and gave him a letter. Tarik left in the night like a thief to join his mother for his "true" birth right. And that proved to be too much for the hand of the King. Lesser men warred with the Gods and lost.

"Your Grace, I apologize for coming to interrupt your day of leisure, I will not take up too much of your time." He started with the same respect he always had, though it was in his the way his shoulders squared stiffly that there was an issue.

"House Rowan will no longer support the High Septon. The High Septon," And he would not start with his announcements of the man spitting in his face and on his honor, "has stated that our Septon is not good enough I must speak to one of his. I am man of the Old Way and he sent me a Septon not of the Old Way. As a matter of fact, your grace, he sent a man who said my accent was unintelligible and who thought it wise to tell me why it was silly to follow these Old Way practices."

who: @tiriusrowan when and where; highgarden, shortly following the return of the reach court from a hunting trip, the hand of the king hears news that only reflects the gloomy weather. me: i miss tirius being hella out of pocket so here we go

there was a light, healthy drizzle of rain that opened up from the skies above the fertile fields of the reach: any sound of it drowned out by the sounds of hooves making impact with wet puddles, the chorus of the reach's court trailing through the grand white gates of highgarden's outer wall. men and women alike of noble classes found themselves upon their steeds, having only recently returned from a hunting progression that had taken the majority of the day.

the sky began to be tainted hues of orange and pink as cedric tyrell slipped from his horse, boots landing upon the cobbles beneath him. and behind him, the sun too began to sink from it's place in the world.

a leather glove remained on the mane of the dark chestnut horse he rode, having only recently found himself enjoying the sport that was hunting. as though it took the thrill of the chase from something else, and allowed his mind some sense of clarity. there was no overcomplicating matters of nature - there was the hunted, and the hunters. he called to the brothers of house rowan, briefly hearing mathis yelling something to him, half chuckling.

he noted a servant approaching the hand of the king, the eldest of the rowans of goldengrove; and it was nothing he looked at.

until he felt the atmosphere slowly shift, and drain from around him; cedric tyrell had always remained an inherently observant individual, understanding of emotions whilst not taking them into any serious account. still, a striking ocean gaze flickered over to the man he had chosen as hand in times of hardship, and kept in times of relative peace. there was something akin to a storm across his face, and cedric found himself inwardly betting on what was the news.

had one of the rowan children fled to essos in pursuit of their mother?

cedric said nothing as the man spoke to his servant in the tongue of the old way, simply waiting for the man to steady himself enough to approach him, and address the matter. their gaze locked.