In which the Sun beats down mercilessly and advances over a field of Flowers
Where: Dornish marches, west of the Boneway
When: Sept 20
Ryan Dayne's horce pawed the turf ferociously, as if sensing his master's impatience. Around him were a full two-score more mounted knights, witha meager baggage train guarded by foot-soldiers of House Dayne behind. Perhaps somewhat oddly, the boy picked to carry the colors bore two pennants upon his lance.
First, of course, flew the sun-and-spear of House Martell, his liege-lord and master. But under the sun-and-spear flew the sigil of the Daynes, a sword and a falling star on a field of lavender. Both pennants were flown proud and high, and the small collection of Dornish cavalry chomped at the bit.
"Damn him." swore Ryan, second child and eldest male, the family greatsword Dawn at his side. "I was told he would be here. Today is the day, now is the time." he grumbled to his squire, a boy filled with long-suffering resignation to his position. "These pigs, these Florents, Baratheons, Targaryens, they'd all conspired together. ALL OF THEM. And now Princess Elia is dead. Prince Myrwin gravely wounded. Aeria held prisoner. These INSULTS to Dorne WILL NOT BE BORNE!" he bellowed, invoking a lusty cheer in the men who waited behind him.
"Today, we will send a message to ALL the Houses. That Dorne stands Unbowed! Unbent! Unbroken! And we will NOT BE DENIED!" he screamed, waving his family's ancestral greatsword in the air to rally his men. "Let us RIDE! Follow me, my brothers, and we shall send these marcher pigs a bloody lesson!" he said, sheathing his sword and putting his spurs to his horse to leap into a gallop, heading north out of the marcher mountain passes down to the fertile valleys below.