Ossinett

She remembered the strangeness of their wedding day, a dozen customs that each felt more alien than the last. With no house colours of her own, the ladies in waiting had woven a wedding wreath of desert flowers entwined with the purple roses and yellow daylillies whilst Freystorm's cooks had baked thick crusted pie. When Ser Thomelin cut the pastry with his longsword, three shy of two dozen live songbirds burst from opening and filled Freystorm's great hall with colour and so

Ser Jorren looked over his shoulder as the Sprintfall knight emptied the purse into his gloved palm. Eight silver coins fell from the leather bag as Ser Don moved them around to budget for the weeks ahead - Six Silver Stars could buy them both salt meats and hardtack for the week, but forty eight could feed the wandering pair well. The young errant's mind drifted to coins of gold. he'd seen one once, a Golden Sun stamped with the dead King's image, it had been in a woodcutter

Silver stained the knights lips and tongue as he spoke, flecks of liquid starlight escaping from the gaps in his teeth and the corners of his mouth. Both Ser Maynard and his stallion were barded in pink and purple, chequey fabrics with long, trailing dags that were cut to resemble moons in crescent - more mummer than mercenary in every way. When he spoke it was high pitched but stern, it seemed to Ser Cledwyn to be a failing battle to sound serious with an outfit like that. H

The sand here was warm and soft, not like the thick brown mud of home. Ser Hal walked the beach towards the high cobblestone wall, the gaudy banners of House Bing fluttering gently in the warm wind as he made his way across the sand. Ahead, palm trees bordered the crooked gatehouse - rowing boats at their feet and a pair of gibbet irons affixed to the wall beside them. In the right iron, a brightly coloured bird picked ribbons of scarlett meat from a withered corpse's forehea

Ever since Ser Holden Barryl first bent the knee to King Romidor the Great during the conquest of what would become Crosser's County, the ideals of knightly honour and chivalry have captured the hearts and minds of the Cornayan people. The allure of shining armour and gowned horses, the promise of heroism and duty, all draw the interest of nobility and commonfolk alike - but in reality, knighthood is a much more complex, gritty affair Knights, Blackguards, Squires and Errants