Ossinett

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

"So often it is the sins of the father than wreck the life of the child", Lord Whitecliff spoke coldly: "See here with our dear Queen, surrounded by a den of wolves all but created by her father's hand." Jorren watched the ageing lord closely as he picked at a loose thread in the sleeve of his black and silver houppelande. In the cold winter air, the words bit his ears harder than any freezing wind - what did the Lord want, and why did it feel like he was being tested? King G