6M B, 74AD

Evening at Ironoaks was a placid time, with the waters of the Long Lake lapping gently against the walls of Ironoaks. The setting sun turned the blue waters into blazing gold as it set behind the mountains. Lord Artys took that time to gaze from the walls out on to his lands as custom. It was a chance to be alone with his thoughts and to work out his next moves. In his hand he held the parchment, some orders from Royce to send troops to the Bloody Gate. He gazed into the distance toward the Giant's Lance, wondering why such an order would come. The Rivermen have no king, and yet I am to prepare to defend the Vale? He had scoffed when the raven had delivered the bloody thing, but it had stick in his mind. Surely the Hardyngs would have sent their men, as vainglorious as they were. He was less prepared to fight, and his nephew had sent nothing from the Eyrie mentioning an immanent attack.

He would not waste his men on such foolishness.