[126] Dragon Wings, Damning Words (Tullisons Only)

Ser Theomore Tullison was not unfamiliar with Caraxes, Prince Daemon's fearsome mount. Even his cry was distinctive, heard before many at Mountain's Reach saw the beast. Once Caraxes is more than a speck in the sky he is an intimidating sight - a vast, lean red terror where Princess's Rhaenyra's Syrax is a yellow, round thing.

Aware of his mount's effect on others, Prince Daemon circled House Tullison's castle thrice before dismounting in the courtyard. By now a great crowd had formed, some transfixed in terror and awe, others desperate to see a real dragon for themselves and mock those who had retreated inside out of fear.

Prince Daemon was armoured as if for war, clad in finely made plate. The suit itself was plain, but he wore a tabard with the red Targaryen dragon on black lest any be unaware who they were dealing with.

Well in to middle age by now, Daemon was still more kingly in aspect than his plump elder brother - it was as if a statue of the Warrior himself had been made flesh, but with the fine features of a Velaryian royal rather than the fair features of an Andal lord.

"
Ser Theomore!"
he demands to no-one in particular yet everyone at once, his commanding presence compelling obedience from Lord Tullison's servants and guardsmen even were his huge dragon not present to reinforce his authority.

Theomore did not quite expect this sort of arrival, but as a man of action when action was needed, and vigorously preparing himself in his mind for what could possibly happen, this entrance seemed more foreboding, as if someone had made the worst possible conclusions, he had the courtyard cleared, the horses lead to their stalls, and the doors to the stables shut. All the while mentally going through what would be the best opening line, as always, the courtesies would be among his best allies, the prince was not likely to come prepared for one response or the other, provocation would be foolish of course, as would arrogance or the implication that Daemon might be wrong to have anger. Avoid all that while not showing the fear that the prince would expect to see and it should work, a dangerous man to be sure, impulsive, too. But smart enough to evaluate anything that would warrant closer scrutiny of his initial disposition.

He was waiting by the stables, not in the most visible of places, but nor was he hiding. Waiting for the prince to land, and then another second or two, not enough to test his patience, but not so quick as to appear jumpy. He calmly steps forward into the light. "
I am here my prince"
the words accompanied by a bow, the tone of his voice indicating that he was happy to see his old mentor, though his face is as cut out of stone, signalling that he understands the gravity of the situation, and yet, the lack of concern for what is about to follow sends the message that he believes that his words will bring appeasement. "
And rather fortuitous that time could be set aside for a visit, I had hoped for the opportunity to convey news that I believe is of great interest to Dragonstone. Though I had not expected such an interest"
Every word and every gesture delivered with the respectful deference that a prince was due, hopefully enough to awaken the curiosity of a keen mind, even one prone to hasty decisions.

[[url=Intimidate][/url]: 6d6k4+2 19 - Simple intrigue due to Status disparity. 2 DoS - Ser Theomore is intimidated by Prince Daemon's wrath, but as ever this is not mind control and simple intrigues in particular have a brief impact. Prince Daemon's goal is to compel loyalty, which he does to a degree in the short term based on the rolls, but longer term loyalties are still player driven.]

"
'My Prince' is it yet Ser Theomore?"


"
Yet at Riverrun you seemed to have a whole host of new friends keen to speak for you."


"
A suspicious man might expect to find a tunic of verdant green worn beneath your outer garments, close to your heart."


"
A suspicious man might think to find 'We Light the Way' tattooed above that same heart."


"
By company and deed you have brought unwelcome attention to your Prince, his friends and the cause he holds dear."


The prince removed his riding gauntlets and placed them on his monstrous mount with a surprisingly tender gesture. He fixed Ser Theomore with a firm gaze, still and poised in his fury where a nervous man might fidget with sword pommel or belt.

Ser Theomore had seen such behaviour from the Prince before, an open palm ready to fly and chastise an indolent or untrustworthy subject should they disappoint.

"
Yet I am your Prince still, no? Not merely a suspcious man. Your Prince would hear your news."

"
My prince should know that this new host of friends ensured that I only shamed the hand that knighted me one time too many, though what the other prince"
His voice trails off, not so much in fear, that one he kept in check, hidden, only a fool would not be frightened by the most dangerous man in Westeros at the best of times, and this was not exactly those, no. But Daemon would use it to press forward, he had seen that before, and much might depend upon Theomore being able to retain control over the situation, he needed to give the prince what the prince demanded, but there were many ways to do that, and a good play would be to let his regret come out. "
What the other prince made me do is inexcusable and I did not refuse him as any true knight should have done, and that will be my burden to bear for all my nights to come"
Theomore scans his environs to ensure that there are none there to eavesdrop.

"
However, my prince must be aware of this already, but what is much less known is the part where the folly of Pennytree has been turned into an interesting opportunity, the good lady Alysanne so happens to have the belief that she owns me, a considerable mistake that should allow me to make her do another one, the biggest she will ever make."
Scared or not, Theomore's sense of dramatics does not escape him. "
The mistake of trusting me."

Awareness (empathy) TN 18 please.

[url=awareness(empathy)][/url]: 5d6k4 18

"
You should ensure that your Prince does not make the mistake of trust your competency too far either Ser Theomore."


Prince Daemon makes no effort to dispel the ambiguity of which Prince he refers to. If anything, he seeks to reinforce it.

"
Acquit yourself well, that your deeds reflect well on you and your Prince."


"
Play your Prince falsely, or fail to reinforce his cause and you will find that a worn out asset may yet serve a final time, but in a less pleasant role."


Scapegoats. There was always a need for scapegoats.

A smile now touched the Prince's lips.

"
Your ambition does you credit Ser Theomore and it remains your greatest strength, but think carefully on it. Who serve his Prince better, the man who shoots at the dummy's chest and strikes an easy target squarely, or the bolder man who risks a shot to the head?"

"
Only a lesser man allows the fear of failure from preventing him from trying to accomplish more than he already has proven he can do, my prince."
Theomore answers after a brief moment of thought, recalling the teachings received as a squire nearly to a word, though his face does not hold the satisfaction a younger man would have about using the prince's own words to answer the question. "
The man who never tries something more difficult after becoming adept at striking the easy mark is doing a disservice to himself and those around him, just as the man who keeps attempting in wain to do that which is beyond his means to achieve. I would say a prince is best served by the man who tests the limits of his ability, always striving for improvement, yet is mindful of the lessons to be learned when one finds the aim to be too high."
A pause, for emphasis. "
I intend to heed them, my prince."

Prince Daemon offers his hand.

"
Then we shall find out what kind of man you are, Ser Themore."


"
You should not need a reminder as to what kind of man your Prince is - the friend he can be to those who serve him well, and the fury brought to bear on those who disappoint him, or worse still betray his interests."


"
Consider this a warning, given only for the love your Prince bears you. Others would not receive this courtesy."


"
I have business in the Riverlands and will not tarry here beyond a brief meeting with your Lord."

One way or the other, indeed. Theomore decides not to comment any more on the subject as he takes the offered hand, to do anything else would be foolish. "
I am certain that my lord nephew would be honored to have a word with our prince, his loyalty to the wishes of the king is beyond question."
The emphasis placed upon the words clearly indicate that he sees how his own might not be. Theomore need not turn to look to know that Dunstan was not about to leave the prince waiting for him to appear. Barely containing his hope that Daemon would have words for others than just his old squire most likely.

Dunstan's hopes and Theomore's expectations were realised, but in private. Lord Tullison seemed more fervent with regard to Princess Rhaenyra in the days to come, and devoted himself to studying old military campaigns and House Tullisons iron production. His boyish enthusiasm for military adventure at least seemed to have been funneled in to fruitful study, although the battles to come would prove a rapid, brutal tutor, teaching harsh lessons that study never could.

The Prince departed shortly afterwards, vaulting on to Caraxes with athleticism that would shame men half his years. Curiously he headed west on his terrifying mount rather than back to the capital. The Prince's typical misdirection or some other matter, a foe to quash or another wavering ally to bring to heel?

The knife's edge gets ever sharper muses Theomore as the prince departs. But he already knew that, untangling all the webs he had weaved around him was likely folly, perhaps he could do it, but the risk of getting caught in them was just as great as if he simply opted to cut the threads to clear a path out of the tangled mess. And cutting was quicker, more decisive, the prince would demand it. But whenever he raised his blade, someone usually died by his hand. Would it ever stop? The red. Could he live with it? He had to, there was no turning back, there was no room for waiver, there was only the way forward, there was only ever the way forward. Perhaps he could hope for some solace and peace of mind when the war was over? Not likely to feature in the Stranger's plans for him, no.

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