(121-03-17) Warning Shot
Warning Shot
Summary: Ser Olyar Hightower pays the Martells and Daynes a visit. With some bleak advice in tow.
Date: Date of play (17/03/2014)
Related: All in the Wickham's Nest Plot

This grand manse faces the prestigious Starry Street. The first story is protected by narrow high windows that stop people from seeing inside, but the big windows on the back wall and the four upper stories make the manse bright and airy over all.

The first floor's main hall is brightly lit with lamps to make up for the shortcomings of the street-facing windows. The white walls and polished white marble floors add to the effect, making it seem airy and bright. There's a grand dining room separated from the entry hall by broad doorway. The house is richly decorated and well-appointed, with luxurious furnishings.

There are sitting rooms up in the floors above, as well as bedchambers. Like almost all of the houses in Oldtown, it shares two walls with its neighbors on either side, but the servants quarters, kitchens, and servant's stairs buffer the house proper from any noise that could possibly leak through the thick stone walls.

There's a pleasant walled garden in the back, viewed from the windows in the back wall. The upper stories have balconies to overlook it.

It's morning, though not too early, and the manse is fairly quiet. The servants of the house are up and about, but most of the noble and knightly residents are in no such hurry. Two, though, have made it out of bed. Ashara and Arros are making their way across the balcony from the bedroom hallways, quietly in conversation. Apparently the princess has dismissed any concerns about appearances given the moratorium on visitors, wearing a gown that's little more complex than a robe, with her hair loose and tousled still.

Like the Princess, Arros appears to be more lax in his wardrobe than usual. He wears a pair of breeches with a sandsilk robe that has been left open at the chest. His sword belt is buckled to his hips rather half-hazardly, and his own curly hair is looking rather tousled.

At the door there would come a strict pounding, to which some poor servant and men at arms would answer. Given that there are Tyrell men outside as well as a few added grey and blue cloaks of Hightower. Though once the door is opened there are a few brief raised voices, but they are silenced as a man dressed in the somber greys of house Hightower comes in, somewhere in between armored and courtly is perhaps the best way to describe him.

"I really don't care if someone in the household is in the midst of a fuck. Wake them, and tell them to come down." Were Arros and Ashara to come right to where the stairs are opened to the main hall, they would find Ser Olyvar Hightower in their entry hall with a small satchel, his sword belt-and removing a rather smart hat of grey.

"The charm of the Reach is legendary," Ashara drawls, waving off a concerned servant before the man can suffer from too much worry and absolving him of any responsibility for the visitors. Despite her less-than-prepared state, she comes down the stairs to meet the latest arrival with polished confidence, looking him over. "Their hospitality has been somewhat lacking, though, I'm afraid. Good morning." Despite the welcome and the flawlessly sunny smile that accompany it, there's something less than pleasant behind Ashara's words. "How can we help you?"

Arros's jaw will clench slightly at the sight of the elder Hightower, and his eyes will narrow slightly. He does not offer the Hightower lord a word of greeting. Instead, he lets Ashara walk a step ahead of him, and lets his hand drift to his hip near where the pommel of his sword rests.

There's a glance as Ashara's voice and appearance catches the older knight's attention. Though his face does remain a rather passive neutral through some amazing feat. Nor does he seem entirely put out given how the Princess is dressed. "Ah, A Martell." he dryly intones before he is reaching inside his satchel, and there produces a scroll-this sealed by the Hightower- and offered as he moves to come and meet her. She would-for her troubles receive a bow, curt and quick.

"I've not much time, but this is what you are getting. A warning." And there eyes slide ever so slightly to Arros before he looks back to Ashara. "Tell your man to remove his hand and rest it elsewhere if you please. I'd apologize for my language, but frankly-I do not care to, nor do we have time to bandy about the weather or banter about what is indeed fine protocol right now." After a brief pause the knight straightens a bit to his full 5'10 height. "I know who you are, I've been to court. You likely do not know me. I am Ser Olyvar Hightower and it is my position to keep you lot alive."

"Spectacular," Ashara replies to Olyvar's introduction, every bit as dry as the deserts of Dorne. She reaches out to take the scroll, breaking the seal and arching a brow at it. "Arros," she murmurs without looking away from the parchment or saying anything further, his name apparently sufficient rebuke. Though both knights stand well above her height and despite her relative undress, she stands straight and composed. "I'm afraid I don't entirely understand, Ser Olyvar," she says after a moment, looking up from the scroll. "Lord Gwayne had assigned us the Stark knight to assist with our protection. Lord Garvin decided that leaving the manse was too much. If I'm to fill in the blanks with those I believe to be the greatest threat to our safety, then this is going to be an interesting day indeed," she smiles tightly back at the knight.

"Oh, I forgot. All Dornishmen are murderers." Arros says with a lazy little smirk, his thick Dornish drawl increasing the acerbic tone he speaks in. The young knight holds up his hands in front of him, palm out. "You need not fear, old man. I mean you no harm." At Olyvar's last words he lets out a derisive snort. "Bullshit. If you meant to keep the Princesses safe you would have put them on a ship." That said, he gives the scroll Ashara just read a glance.

"Those men from Lord Garvin are being removed, because people in the city are starting to get hot. Hotter than when the Lords Errant arrived back from Wickham's Nest." Olyvar says as he drops his hands down to his side. There's a squint in the older man's left eye, but it leaves soon enough. "I need to know whom you want from your House and House Dayne to be taken into custody." And there he looks back towards Arros in that moment. "I have spoken with my nephew, Ser Gwayne and he agrees that this is better." And before hopefully both Dornishmen go off the handle, the Hightower raises a hand.

"This is formality and mummery to fool the masses. You will be escorted by armed men to the Hightower-the small folk and pissed nobles will think you prisoners and likely-likely" the word emphasized a bit cooler the second time. "Keep you all from being over run. I've had reports brought to me this morning, that it's already beginning. A mob attacked several Dornish merchants in one of the squares. And lynched two of them before we could intervene. They want blood, Princess." And there he shifts his stance. "And I doubt they will care if you are a Martell or a Sand."

Clearing his throat Olyvar looks back towards the door. "You are not being formally charged-so you will not see the inside of a cell. Let's be clear. We would rather keep your family happy and what peace there is-before it fractures completely. And I do not care for innocent blood being spilled in my town."

The parchment in Ashara's hands is a warrant for arrest, though the names have been left blank. And the explanation of its purpose is enough to drain the color from her features despite her composure. "This is absurd," she says cooly, though there's the slightest shake in her voice. "You have no authority to take any of us into custody," she points out. "Dorne is a sovereign kingdom, and does not answer to the Dragonlords, let alone House Tyrell or House Hightower." She starts to roll the parchment up once more, though it may be as much to give her hands something to do to keep them from shaking as anything else. "You and I both know that if the people were not appeased by our being held here, they are unlikely to be appeased by transferring us to the Hightower. What is the rest of your plan, for when this fails? Will you ask me to chose whom to sacrifice on the headsman's block?"

"Princess, may I read it?" Arros asks. He holds out his hand for the rolled up parchment. "You hold members from House Dayne, Uller, and Martell in this house." He says through gritted teeth. "My understanding is those who have been accused of the crime are Blackmonts. Are you Reachmen in the habit of ruling against one house for another's crimes?"

"What is absurd, is thinking you have a shot of making it in this city without help, and being a fool too prideful when it comes to you in a manner not of your choosing. You are not being put on a fucking ship, because they will block the river, or try to catch you en route. We can transfer you easier from the Hightower if you wish a boat-but this is what it is." Olyvar says calmly. "And while you live in this town, you will answer to us. If your man was to murder someone." a glance to Arros, "After all he said you all were murderers." wry grin given, but it's gone in his next words as he looks back. "Then he would face Oldtown justice. Not be sent back to Dorne." plain and simple.

"What is absurd right now, is not you trusting me, or my lords to see to your safety. this farce will allow you to move unmolested. And despite the mob- we can keep them from the tower should they turn their sights on it. I am asking for names. You all can come, or not. I don't know if you wish to leave men here in the manse-but I can assure you, on my honor. You will not see a headsman's block- Nor will you see mob violence." His voice barely raises. "I swear on the Seven, had I been able to get my orders out. You would not be held here. We would have taken you the night they came in. It is late, but I am moving to keep you alive." With that said he offers his hand out towards Ashara. "Will you trust me to put on a performance that guarantees your safety?"

For Arros a look is given "Dirt and ears. You and I know you are not the accused. However- Pate Nobody whom has grown up in the streets here does not know the difference. He likely barely knows the difference between a lysene and a braavosi. What he does know is that for years, our two countries have at war with one another. That we've both killed one another-and knows now that a family of Westerosi nobles were cruelly murdered. So before you both start asking about what rights we have to hold anyone and acts of war. Think on that." And the older knight looks to Ashara. "Princess. Please understand this will only be read to appease the crowds. You will be free to wander the tower and return home once the city cools it's heels. Which it is about to be forced to do."

"Don't tear it up," Ashara murmurs to Arros with a warning look as she passes him the parchment before looking back to Olyvar. She's quiet for a long moment, considering the knight and her options. "I would prefer not to speak for Ser Osric and his lady wife," she finally says, words slow as she chooses them carefully. "They have children to be concerned about, and will want to see them safe. I don't know that moving the children through the city is a worthwhile risk, and if the children stay here, then Ellia will doubtless wish to stay here, and if Ellia stays, Mariya stays, and if both of them stay, then so does Ser Osric. For myself, I am willing to take the risk. But you should understand that it will be a risk for you and yours as well. My father is not a forgiving man, and my mother has no other children to worry over.

"If the other Princesses and Ser Osric will not come, then we will make it appear as if they have come." Arros comments as his eyes trace over the arrest warrant. "We will dress some servants in their clothes. No one in the city has spent enough time with Pincess Ellia or she and Ser Osric's children to know what they look like from afar. It is better for the mob to think we are all in the Hightower." He rolls the scroll back up, and hands it back to Ashara. "I will go where you go, Princess. But I do not like this."

"I will write to your father to let him know, that I have taken you into my care and send it by Raven before nightfall. If you wish to write to him once there, I would be grateful." And there he looks towards Arros for a moment. "As for Ser Osric and his family the same is offered of them. And I know the risk we're taking. I thought it through before coming up with this. I will give you all a day to decide before I come back. When I do, it will be with a sizable force to keep the small folk back if they press." Olyvar looks down for a moment, his eyes looking to his boots before he looks back to the Princess. "I do not wish to see you, or anyone from this manse die for the border's problems. Nor because some are not as educated as some of the finer men here." that said the older Hightower looks back. "If you bring your armed men, I'll see if we cannot have some extra tunics and surcoats brought to disguise them as ours. Can't make it look as if you have weapons-or they'll rush for sure." clearly the Master of Laws has a plan for all of this.

A look is given to Arros and he nods. "And I will have men occupy the manse to make it look as if they have taken it over if that is the case. But they will be here to protect Ser Dayne and his family should they not leave."

"Night would perhaps be a better time to move," Ashara points out, taking the scroll back from Arros with a distracted nod. "Not only will there be fewer smallfolk about to cause trouble, but since there will be fewer to see, you'll be free to spread whatever rumors and propaganda are most useful about the arrest itself."

"Even better if it looks as if you've ripped us from our beds." Arros observes. He looks to Olyvar, "I am of Dayne bloodline, but I serve my stepfather Lord Uller. If I were to write to him would you be able to see it sent?"

"I would, Ser." Olyvar says after a moment of grousing with his belt. A nod given the Sand before he offer a half smile towards Ashara. "That was the plan. I figure the procession might draw some eyes, but not enough to be unmanageable. Wednesday night, is when I am planning on doing it. And hopefully if the Seven smile we'll do it without a hitch." And that is what the knight is planning for. "I have our route already mapped to be rather direct, and other routes prepared if something cocks up. I will get you all there. Safely." His word is his bond.

Ashara lets out a slow breath, nodding once to Olyvar. "I'll speak with the others," she agrees. "But Arros and I will take the chance." Her features harden, a warning look for the Hightower. "I am trusting you, Ser. I can only hope that I'll not come to regret it."

Arros says nothing. He simply looks between Ashara and Olyvar with a grim look on his face.

A bow of his head, and the hat held in his other hand is placed back in place. "You will not lady. If I had to, I would do this plan with my own wife and children." Which should speak to the trust he places in it. "I'll even come armed, so there will be no doubt as to the seriousness of what we intend to do. Please convince the others of this plan. It will be executed right." And with that he glances to Arros. "I'll see to find a surcoate that fits you Ser, and we'll hide your face under the mail coif." Another bow is given before he is looking back towards the Servant. "Wednesday night. Hour of the cloak-be prepared." he repeats in his rasp, before seeing himself out.

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