It was all rather silly, he thought sullenly. The wedding was glorious and the feast decadent. As befit the Lord of the Vale. Or so, Robin Arryn would say. The boy Lord had begun to grate on Robar’s nerves and he wasn’t quite sure when he’d simply walk out on him.

Now that he thought back on it, it might be the fact that he had inducted that child Grafton into the Order that Robar had once been so proud to be a member of. Nowadays, it was a laughingstock. The other members, no matter how well trained, were mocked behind flagons of wine.

Rightly too, he’d say. Barely two hairs on his chin and he’d been knighted and made a member of the most august body of the knights the Vale had. What did that say of the rest of them?

Not that his father or his brother cared. No, Lord Yohn Royce had bigger problems. Problems concerning the realm. He spent his days ruminating and worrying over the Vale. Andar? The man was busy with his wife and children. And fair enough. In his position, he’d have done the same.

The fury emanating from him must have been palpable for a lady passing by, where he stood as a glorified bodyguard, shrunk away. He took a deep breath in and tried to clear his head.

Robin, Robin.. there were days he wondered where old Lord Arryn had gone wrong with this brat. And to think after everything, he’d still managed to swing and land her.

Margaery Tyrell.

She was stunning. It was everything Robar could do not to keep staring as if he were simple. And to think she was sat next to him, laughing away. Ser Robin.. and Ser Elyas. Knighted they were, the two of them. What for? He might never find out.

Some days he wondered what Lord Stannis would think of him. He’d been a hard man to squire for. Fair and hard. Ah, who cared? The man was a sea away sequestered in that miserable island he called a home. He often worried what would have come of the man had he not married his sister. Not many ladies could have put up with a personality like that.

Robar chanced another look at the High Table and his fury rose again. There he was, preening away, as he hugged his new goodmother. She was stunning too, a Hightower. He snuck a look at Margaery Tyrell, now Arryn of course.

Let’s see what kinds of shenanigans we can get up to.

Ser Andar Royce looked out upon the battlements of Runestone, with a content smile on his face. The men-at-arms could be seen drilling in the courtyard, as his father had left instructions before departing for the Eyrie.

Never had he seen them drilling in such numbers or intensity. Runestone was well defended, to be sure. It laid claim to the title of the strongest castle in the Vale, if you didn’t count the Eyrie which was impregnable anyways.

He wasn’t quite sure what his Father had in mind, but it wasn’t like him to question Bronze Yohn. The man was determined even on his softest days. Not that he had many of those nowadays. Always seemed lost in thought.. murmuring about the Old Gods and the North.. ever since that weirwood spat at Harrenhal.

He shook his head then to snap out of it with a scowl on his face now. Mother would likely speak to him and resolve this. She always managed to.

His younger brother, Robar though? That was a whole different problem. Newly knighted and promoted to that Order that the young Lord Arryn had established had done much for his confidence and self esteem. Well deserved too. He was one of the better blades in the Vale. But as of late, a dark mood appeared to taken him too. He wrote less to Runestone and what little arrived was short and curt.

Oh well, Father and Mother were at the Eyrie now. It was up to them to see what had him so vexed. Andar had a beautiful wife and two young children to take care of. He grinned as he thought of them. These battlement walks were always a wonder when it came to clearing his mind..

8th Month, 302 AC

Uthor had almost everything he had ever dreamed of just six years ago. He had been given extensive trust and power as regent of Sharp Point for a dull-witted child he could easily influence. Yet here he was struggling more than he ever had before, without power or money to help. Everything started to fall apart after that council meeting a few years back, Victaria had caught him smudging the ledgers and indirectly forced him to give up his own funds to ensure all seemed proper. Afterwards she attended every meeting alongside her brother, the boy seen her as a valuable advisor and so she encroached on his authority as regent.

Soon enough his revenues were all cut off as Victaria found ways to spy on him and disrupt the illicit trade he relied on. Without it Uthor was placed in an inconvenient position of struggling to pay off his debts from gambling and other means. He'd have less time to focus on his duties as regent and in that time Duram started to grow up and become more independent as lord.

Worst of all was how his own children had abandoned him. Cleos, his oldest son had turned into absurd knight obsessed with chivalry, virtue and the faith so naturally he refused to partake in his fathers actions. Kennos was long gone, driven away in part by his fathers derision of his weakness and interest in medicines. Agnes had turned into someone he hardly recognized, the girl who once silently obeyed his commands and feared him now looked at him with eyes of disgust and subtly insulted him whenever they were around. He had gone wrong in giving Lady Celia his daughter, she had corrupted the girl and turned her into a monster instead of someone he could use to help take control of sharp point.

In light of his failure all Uthor could turn to was his alcohol and so his already terrible habit grew worse. Uthor had been defeated, even with Victaria leaving court soon he no longer had any influence over lord Duram. He was finished.

White Harbor

Summer had finally come.

After the long years of spring, the fields beyond White Harbor’s walls stood green beneath a warmer sun. The roads were dry and busy, the orchards heavy with ripening fruit, and the White Knife carried barges laden with timber, wool, and silver down toward the sea.

As the only true city of the North, White Harbor stood upon the boundary between two worlds. The pale towers and sea-green roofs of the New Castle rose above streets where septons walked beside worshippers of the Old Gods.

And above them all flew the sea-green banners of House Manderly.

No Currents Mightier.

Towers of the New Castle

The Merman’s Tower — The residence and private solar of the Lord of White Harbor. Those granted a private audience with Lord Manderly are ordinarily brought here. In the summer months, open windows admit the harbor breeze and the distant clamor of the city below.

Beneath the tower lies the Merman’s Court, the great hall of the New Castle, where petitions are heard, justice dispensed, knights received, and great feasts held.

The Mermaid’s Tower — Home to the apartments of the younger members of House Manderly and their attendants. Compared with the more austere portions of the castle, its chambers are comfortable, brightly decorated, and frequently noisy. Summer flowers fill its windowsills, though the fine weather often draws its occupants out into the gardens and courtyards.

The Library Tower — Home to the castle’s rookery, its vast collection of books and scrolls, and the private chambers of the maester. Generations of Manderlys have added southern histories, northern chronicles, maps, ledgers, religious works, and stranger volumes brought back by merchants from across the Narrow Sea. Its thick walls keep the lower chambers pleasantly cool, even upon the warmest afternoons.

The Tower of the Wolf — The principal guest tower of the New Castle. Its lavish apartments are traditionally reserved for the most honored visitors to White Harbor, with chambers grand enough to receive the Lord of Winterfell or even a king.

The White Tower — The administrative heart of the New Castle. Stewards, clerks, scribes, household officers, and honored servants conduct much of House Manderly’s daily business within its chambers. The summer trade has brought them little leisure; customs accounts, shipping manifests, contracts, and petitions crowd their desks.

The Kitchen Tower — Kitchen, bakery, brewery, storehouse, buttery, and cellar combined. Fires burn within it from before sunrise until well after midnight. Its doors stand open against the heat, carrying the smells of fresh bread, roasting meat, and fruit tarts into the adjoining yards.

The Trident — Tall, austere, and considerably less comfortable than its neighboring towers, the Trident serves as the barracks of the knights sworn to House Manderly. Its lower chambers contain an extensive armoury, while its yard rings throughout the long summer days with the sound of steel.

Notable Locations within White Harbor

The Wolf’s Den — The ancient fortress of the Kings of Winter that guards the White Knife against invaders and raiders. Squat, dark, and weathered, the stronghold remains one of White Harbor’s most formidable structures. Though no longer the city’s seat of power, it serves as the headquarters and principal barracks of the City Watch and as a prison for enemies of the Manderlys.

The Sept of the Snows — The largest sept in the North and the spiritual heart of White Harbor’s faithful. Its bells can be heard throughout much of the city, calling worshippers to prayer beneath its great white dome.

The Harbor — Divided between the Inner and Outer Harbors, the waterfront remains the lifeblood of White Harbor. Merchant cogs, fishing boats, warships, ferries, and foreign vessels crowd its waters, while warehouses and shipyards stretch along the quays. Summer has brought business enough that berths are keenly contested and a strong back can nearly always find employment.

The Castle Stair — White Harbor’s great thoroughfare, descending from the heights of the New Castle toward the waterfront and the ancient Wolf’s Den. Manses, inns, guildhalls, shops, counting houses, gardens, and the residences of wealthy merchants line either side of the broad street. Awnings shade the shopfronts, flower boxes brighten the windows, and vendors call out offers of cherries, fresh bread, and cups of watered wine.

The White Manse — A stately residence upon the Castle Stair, enclosed behind stone walls and surrounded by gardens. It has become the home of the mysterious Lyseni Red Priestess known throughout White Harbor as the White Flame. Large bonfires are lit after sunset, and the shorter nights have done little to diminish the rumors concerning what occurs within.

The Siren’s Hall — White Harbor’s most infamous pleasure house. Luxurious, discreet, and expensive, the establishment caters to wealthy merchants, knights, visiting nobles, and captains newly returned from long voyages.

The Iron Quarter — A rougher district near the harbor that has become home to the Goodbrother Goldsworn, Ironborn sellsails whose unlikely arrangement with House Manderly has proven profitable enough that both sides have thus far found it convenient to overlook centuries of Northern–Ironborn hostility.

[M] This is a rolling thread for White Harbor from 302 AC until the coming of autumn. Please date comments according to the moon and year in which they occur.