eachdraidh | video » backdated to 7th

[So, now seems as good a time as any (or a better time than most) to remind people that there are other options. They've been called to fight, to kill and die, but they would not be the first to cast off the endless war of the greater courts. Such progenitors scatter through the land, it seems, old and entrenched in society but with shards of their own all the same, and ties to the Kings and Queens that only become clear when pulled. (Confusingly enough, the native peoples have even adopted one such shard-bearing defector as their anti-shard-bearer mascot. Jon has long since abandoned the exhaustive habit of questioning the logic of anything in this land of fairies.)

Still, this is his first time addressing the Network at large (intentionally, let us not speak of any accidental star-theft related visions) despite being around for just over half a year, now. It's... oddly unnerving, but he puts great pains into keeping his expression stony. Indeed, he presents the locket with a very serious, rather dour look that gives the impression he'd be a huge stick in the mud, and then he clears his throat.]

If there are any who do not wish to take part in this war - who cannot fight, or who will not, the Cothromach takes no part and would house you for however long you might think it necessary. [Straightforward and to the point. Jon's not great at rousing speeches, really, he just says what he has to say.] Other places have been offered, and they are good as well, held by good people. [Sup Mally!] Only know that you have options. [You know, in case those wacky Queens are telling you to take up arms against your literal brother or something crazy like that.]

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It does. ... It must. [Or the last part of their father has truly gone from this place. He breathes out.] The Seelie court is not Cothromach's only ally, Sansa sees to that, and the Spinebacks rise up to deter any open marches. [Also Jon has been obsessively leveling up its defenses for months now. Defenses made by the dwarves of Troichean Beinn, not those that would attack them if driven into a wroth.]

[ They have done so well, he thinks, in a situation that is beyond all of them. Robb is proud of them both, truly, and he hopes it shows. ] With luck we will have more upon our return. [ Even now she seeks and Robb sees to her protection, guiding where he can, offering advice should it come to his mind. It is... simpler, though he has not forgotten the man he is supposed to be now. Still a king, though bereft of his kingdom. ]

[Jon finds it difficult, in truth. To pay obeisance to a little sister, after having been the Lord Commander whose word was (or ought to have been) law up on the Wall. Robb, he imagines, would find it even harder.] How goes your meetings, then? Is Treun safe so far?

[ It has been, it is, though Robb barely complains, there is no room for it not time. ] Well enough. There is disquiet amongst the natives here as well. [ Much like everywhere else. ]

I can believe it. [He can't even blame them. How long had the Station stood before a shard-bearer tore it down (accidentally?)] These monarchs do not help it, with this fool war. How can men who wield such power be so inept in the field? They do not siege, they scarcely seem to plan, it's madness. Before I came, they sent Sansa to attack Caer Scima itself with some small group contingent, and then left her and Ser Gendry stranded there to make their own way home. [He is still so mad about that.]

[ Robb inhales, gaze dropping only briefly. No matter the war, it is always so tiresome. ] They seem content to allow their men form attacks, giving nothing by vague orders to be based off. [ His brow furrows. ] Sansa? Gods be good; she is no warrior, what were they thinking? A king is supposed to know his subjects, his men, he is supposed to know which man can fight and which cannot.

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