a reunion in the water gardens [npc]

Altair Umbriel was probably the most loved and hated Umbriel among every other lord the house has ever had. It tends to happen when someone rules for almost five decades and is probably going to continue ruling for several more. He is loved by the commoners for his just and fair rule; and is hated by most of the nobles simply because they know he is going to outlive not just them, but also their sons and daughters. Nevertheless, none would dare rebel against him, for he is as ruthless to traitors as he is loyal to comrades. Therefore, that morning, the lords and ladies of every last house under him arrived at Sunspear, as per his command.

Abnormal longevity has its perks and quirks. One of the biggest perk according to Altair is the effect it had on women when he tells them his actual age. The seventy-eight-year-old man’s bed was a better poet on women beauty than any living human. However, on the quirk’s side, he had to watch everyone who mattered to him die one after another, and he could do nothing to stop it. Arthur, Alrisha, Benjamin, Calathea … the list went on; and now, the most recent entry is Sigeweard. Unlike the previous deaths, however, Sigeweard’s death made him more angry than sad. He couldn’t understand how the Hand of the King could be lured into the Kingswood and murdered. Altair knew Sigeweard well, and he knew the stubborn northerner was not a fool to fall for an enemy’s trap. He was convinced this was the Stainthorpe’s doing, and would have marched his bannermen to the Eyrie to destroy the house if not for the King’s order to wait for evidence.

Evidence! And that’s why all the Dornish nobility were assembled that morning.

While most of them were directed to the Water Garden’s meeting hall by Altair’s squire, there was one lady that he wished to greet personally. Calathea’s first daughter, Rosaline Marbella. As he walked down the stairs towards the ponds where Rosaline was awaiting him, he couldn’t help but notice how much she has grown. The last time he saw her, she was merely a child; but now, she is the definition of Dornish beauty. But it was not to admire her beauty did he choose to meet her that morning. No. It was more a sense of guilt that forced him to face her and apologize. He had promised House Marbella that the King would save Calathea, and he couldn’t help but feel he failed them when Frederick couldn’t cure the unknown plague.

“It’s so good to see you, Rosaline. I’m terribly sorry your mother is not with us this morning,” he said, approaching her with his arms wide, inviting her for an embrace.

Altair’s lips curved into a smile involuntarily as Rosaline expressed her gratitude towards her sister Palmeria. As she continued looking down, he held her chin and lifted her head gently so that their eyes met. “I’m relieved that you two are there for each other at such difficult times and I hope this never changes. There is no better way to honour your mother’s memory.” Rosaline’s curtsy reminded him again of how much she has grown, both physically and mentally. She was no longer the child he rained gifts on; she was now the lady of one of the most influential house under him and he found that combination of beauty and power formidable. “I’m truly grateful for your loyalty, Lady Marbella,” he said, putting emphasis on the last two words to show he is very happy for her. “Now, let’s not keep the other lords and ladies waiting. They hate me enough already,” he said, chuckling at his half-truth joke. Placing his hand on her waist, he would gently usher her towards the meeting hall as they continued their conversation.

That would probably be the last attempt at a joke that morning because everything that follows was going to be about the Saunders or the Stainthorpes, neither of which was going to make him laugh. “Yes… The loss of Sigeweard has graver implications than I want to admit. But I must say it is not surprising. I warned them not to raise a vengeful cobra in their backyard, but they didn’t listen and now it’s too late. It bit the hand, and we must stop the venom before it reaches the head.”

Altair’s squire, who was waiting near the entrance to the hall would rush to open the door for the two nobilities. As Altair walked in, everyone would rise from their seats and greet him. He would leave Rosaline’s side, allowing her to go to her seat in the round-table. Walking up to his embellished throne, he would gesture for everyone to take their seat as he took his. “I’m sure by now the word would have travelled, but for those who don’t know why we have assembled here, here’s why: the Hand of the King, Sigeweard Saunders, was murdered in the Kingswood,” he said, pausing to take in the reaction.

As he expected, there were no murmurs or shocked faces. Everyone knew. Good; he disliked ignorance. “It is the King’s command that I do not incite any animosity between houses without proper evidence. So, I’ll refrain from naming the wretched house. But… only until we have proof.” He signalled to his squire, who quickly ran up to him and placed a knife on the round-table. He picked it up and handed it to the nearest lord and asked him to pass it around. “The cowards had sent a dozen assassins against a single man and he took down half of them before going down. The investigators discovered that these assassins used knives like this one here. Now… I have seen many kinds of daggers in my long life, but have never seen one like this. This one is definitely not a Westerosi dagger or even from the free cities. I want you all to take a good look at it and tell me everything you may possibly know about it.”