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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 16:43:43 GMT -5
"So many words to relate a simple concept. That was the problem with your books as well." She regarded him with interest. "And what sort of diplomatic aid might you have in mind?"
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Post by Lord Robert Dondarrion on Oct 7, 2012 16:49:42 GMT -5
He smiles at that. "I apologize, I am very wordy, however if things were made to be simple then I would be out of a job." He laughs. "Well, I had in mind that if you help me with what I do, in return, besides the gold, I could put in a word so that you yourself could be a diplomat, perhaps even an ambassador like myself."
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 16:50:07 GMT -5
As they talk, they see a small man dressed in brown leather clothing walking about, talking to people. He is notable mostly for his pink cloak with a flayed man on it.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 16:57:02 GMT -5
"A diplomat or ambassador..." Such a thing had not occurred to her before. It would suit her, she thought, imagining herself arranging treaties and writing books about faraway places, all in perfect syntax. It seemed almost too good to be true. "I will think on it. After all, for all I have read of you, we have only just met." She wondered what her father would think of it.
She noticed the man wearing the flayed man cloak and shuddered. House Bolton had a bloody history, as bloody as their sigil. She was curious about him, but it would be rude to abandon her current conversation partner.
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Post by Lord Robert Dondarrion on Oct 7, 2012 17:57:21 GMT -5
He nods. "Well do think fast, I do not think I can stay longer then the tournament." He too noticed the man that was walking about, what was a Bolton doing in the came of the Goldlands, he stood up tall.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 18:07:03 GMT -5
"If I cannot decide in time, I am sure a letter would suffice. I write a very clear hand," she said simply, following the Bolton with er eyes. "If you would excuse me, Master Rowan, I have others to meet. After all, the entire realm is here, and I have a limited time indeed to speak to everyone!" She curtseyed to him, then began to dog the footsteps of the mysterious Bolton.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 18:10:49 GMT -5
The small man enters a tent, no flag or heraldric device on it.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 18:14:11 GMT -5
Arabia stopped awkwardly at tge entrance to the unmarked tent, pondering whether or not she should go inside. She tried to peer past the small opening, but the daylight was too bright and tent was too dark. She sighed, and came closer, trying to listen unnoticed to anything going on within.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 18:23:13 GMT -5
She feels a hand firmly touch her back and guide her into the darkness as she straightens in shock. "Curiosity can kill the cat, my lady Hightower."
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Post by Lord Robert Dondarrion on Oct 7, 2012 18:32:02 GMT -5
Having being left Jason simply sighs and walks slowly over too the Dornish camp.
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 18:57:11 GMT -5
She blinked in the relative darkness of the tent as her eyes adjusted to the dimness. For once she wished for the septa that usually followed her everywhere...but of course Arania could handle herself. "So I have heard," she said, hoping for a clear view of the man once she could see in the darkness. "How do you know me?"
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 19:01:26 GMT -5
The hand releases its pressure, and the man slides around her to a seat that slowly becomes visible as her eyes adjust. "I'm Malryas Bolton, and we write letters all the time. I am offended you don't remember me." He suddenly and effortlessly changes to Valyrian as he speaks. "Perhaps though, the name Maester Havilan of Lannisport, and noted expert on Old Valyrian steelmaking processes better suits your memory. Please, have a seat. I could not let a lady stand whilst I sit. Unless there was only one chair, of course."
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 19:18:35 GMT -5
She sat. "Of course I wouldn't know you. Letters are nothing like speaking face to face." She did not let her face betray any surprise, even as she realized Maester Haviland did not really exist. So it was Malyras Bolton, THE Bolton, Master of Whisperers in the northern kingdom. "An honor to meet you at last then," shereplied in flawless Valyrian. "Why so much secrecy, though, and whose tent is this?" Her eyes searched the shadowy tent for anything out of the ordinary.
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Post by The Forgotten God on Oct 7, 2012 19:25:41 GMT -5
It is largely empty, save a few chairs, some bottles of wine and water, a bowl of fruit, and a comfortable-looking divan with a thick wool blanket and a few pillows. "Why, my lady, this is Maester Haviland's tent. He left very specific instructions to have it brought here." He chuckles. "And to make it better, King Kyle even paid the bill." He pours himself a glass of water. "I shall be honest; I find you...intriguing. A bored young woman living in a giant tower, who has decided to attempt to become a junior spymaster of some sort. Fascinating." He notes her suspicion.
"We're quite alone; Maester Haviland likes his privacy after all."
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Post by Arania Stark on Oct 7, 2012 19:41:39 GMT -5
She couldn't help but grin at that. "And does te King ever get curious about this Maester? The one he never sees, but always foots the bill for?" She watched him drink, then poured herself a glass. "You don't mind?" She asked, though she wouldn't have stopped if he had objected. So he found her intriguing, did he? She drank slowly. "I wouldn't say 'junior spymaster.' I simply have many many friends with whom I simply adore to exchange letters."
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