An Ibex's Rise (ASOIAF SI) "Old" rewrite is up on new thread

Also posted on my AH account Swaglord

Prologue: A buck's fall

location: Mountains of the Moon, The Vale

Time: Andal invasion

The Ibex slam into castle floor, the back of its head hitting so hard it saw burst of light, and then he's on top of it, blood dripping off his ruined beak, two hands squeezing the ibex throat. The falcon smiled. Tightening his talons.

The Ibex shook violently under the falcon restraint as a sea of steel clashed with iron all around them. The Ibex reached for his waist followed by dull click. The falcon screeched as a dirk shot through his armpit and lost his grip. It was all the ibex needed. Capitalizing one the moment the Ibex reversed their position.

Exhausted the Ibex brought down his iron again and again on the opposing falcon which followed by a loud clang as iron failed to breach steel. A hot searing pain overcome the Ibex as the world started spinning. In its last moment, it saw a knight with a sigil of bells standing behind his headless body.

As the sun set over Mountains of the Moon, the banner of the Ibex slowly descended as the falcon banner soared high.



Interlude: Past glories and a fools end
Sir Greg was having bad day and his house servants seem to notice it to. His large hulking frame moved across the dimly lit halls of Castle Highcliff, each step announced his presence to the castle staff with heavy thud as servant scurried in his wake. His mood seemed to reflect the grey thundering skies above.

Normally inheriting the position of head of the house should be an exciting if at least a joyous occasion for all heirs of the nobility, especially one as prestigious and ancient as his. Alas with the current state of his house affairs caused by his late dear father passing, there are now many matters previously left sleeping which now must be addressed by him. He only felt foreboding sense of dread and excitement for the road ahead. But as his house words “We are relentless” he was determined to guide his house forward to these troubling times with tenacity only a Highcliff could boast of.

After Rolf Highcliff the defiant last Ibex and petty king over the Mountains of the moon was defeated by Artys Arryn at their ancestral seat Castle Highcliff, it came as a surprise to both andals and first-men alike when their house was spared by Artys on the condition of recognizing him as the first King of the Mountain and Vale while conceding land that Artys would later build the eyrie upon and finally Rolf only living child and daughter would marry Artys third son. In hindsight his decision at the time made sense.

Rolf Highcliff had won hundreds of battles against Artys and his followers of both andal and first men alike. The climax of the last battle finally resulted in pyrrhic victory for Artys conquest of the Vale which would take a decade to start showing signs of recovery from, but at the end of the day Artys ultimately faced the same problem as Rolf, he lacked manpower. In other to compensate Rolf’s lack of manpower Rolf had force entire villages, towns and cites men, women and children alike to help in his war effort against the majority of vale. After Rolf were defeated there were only few hundred men and women left inhabiting the former petty king’s territory. Territory which now were left undefended and ripe for the taking with no neighbouring house having the capacity to occupy nor govern.

Instead of ending Rolf line and splitting the land among his new vassals, Artys decided it was better to give his third son the lordship through marriage and with time give his descendants a strong ally to the Arryn power block. The resulting union lead to the future generations of Highcliff sporting the Arryn colours of platinum blond hair with blue of eye but kept their tall, muscular, and broad-shouldered ancestry.

Over six thousand years, house Highcliff recovered at a snail’s pace due to mountain clan’s incursion and other houses preventing them to recover either through economic, diplomatic, or outright military by staging mountain clans raid to keep them weak. This would normally be stomped out by one’s liege lord however due to the estrange relationship between the Arryn brothers the support outright stopped when Artys first born inherited the throne which strained the relationship between their houses furthermore. This resulted in villages, towns and later cites sprung near castle highcliff since no one dared settle to far from the safety of the looming castle leaving most of the land deserted.

After such a long time with his house balancing on a knife edge, Greg’s grandfather was the Highcliff who finally that restored the region’s population near the level of old days, and they could now host an army of 3000 men albeit poorly trained and equipped. Although Highcliff coffers where shaky at best his grandfather was confident that other houses mainly Belmore would be dithered from causing them any trouble now that they could the defend their land from further incursions. Finally, the Highcliff's land could continue the road to full recovery without outside interference. That was until his grandfathers passing and Greg’s father found himself at the helm.

His father unlike the typical Lords of the Highcliff were neither tall nor brawny as common but instead sported a slim build of average hight. He has jolly man who always sought to please others and desperately sought validation from his peers. He thought the best way to accomplish this was to abandon his house first-men culture and become more andal by embracing the concept of chivalry and to be the dashing white knight that would swoon young maidens’ hearts.

He Dressed himself in fine white silk and silver plate armour. Although he got validation, it was not due to his friendly disposition or his honourable way of life. It was the fact that more than not he come off as a fool or rather an “ibex with his head up in his ass” as lesser knights would whisper.

While dashing and expensive silver armour is practically useless. Besides being easily distinguishable, it was weaker than iron which his house was known for even weaker than bronze! His father trotted on is white stallion in shining armour while often crooning about matters of chivalry to anyone who would listen lead him to be widely regarded as the prancing goat.

Greg clenched his colossal fist, the thought of his father brought mixture of sham, grief, and anger over the slights he and his house reputation had to suffer after his father abandoned their old ways in exchange for rose tinted version of andals chivalry.

My Lord!

Greg was driven out of his thoughts by the two guards by his fath- or rather his solar. Acknowledging the two guards saluting at him with a nod, Greg opens the door and marches in.

The room was large and bleach white, deck out with rows of bookshelves against the side walls. His eye zone in on his destination. A stone throne with its armrest ending with an ibex buck head placed on both sides behind a large ironwood desk. The wall behind throne unlike the bookshelf on the sides of the room had 7 full sets of imposing armour holding varied arms, used by the greatest Ibex kings of old, the last notably missing his helm. He slowly descended on his new seat and let a moment pass. Remembering both his grandfathers and the armours judging gazes whenever he was brought to this very room.

The dream from the previous moon clouding his mind. Green sight dreams was something that should never be spoken with anyone unless it’s to family. The reason for this would be the strong presence of the faith of the seven in the vale. The faith of the sevens view on the old gods was hypocritical at best. Before the arrival of Targaryen’s, the worshipper of the old gods was seen as nothing more than demonic tree worshipper and high septon used their faith militia to uproot people they viewed as heretics. Highcliff territory had unfortunately suffered their attention throughout history until they learned to give them lip service to avoid further acts of zealotism.

Fortunately, this ended when Jaehaerys I Targaryen the fourth king of Westeros, also known as the Conciliator, worked out with the Faith of the Seven for them to tolerate the continued practice of incestuous marriages by house Targaryen but also to ensure that the followers of different gods within Westeros would not be discriminated against, through the doctrine of exceptionalism.

After Greg’s green dream of his house last battle against the Arryn’s of the vale the previous moon he could not keep his hand from his sword. Green dream and sight was a unique ability of the first men which allowed users to glimpse back to the past or even the future. Often green dreams happened instinctually, green sight was however the ability to use green dreams at will. Green dreams often have some form of meaning or significance to your present time or immediate future.

Because of this Greg were constantly on edge. His father had on his previous hunt by a mere stroke of luck found a large iron vein, a mile from our border to house Belmore. To Greg’s growing misfortune his attempt to dissuade his father from building a mine until they could build a small fort around the vein or at very least wait until they had a trained well-equipped force to defend it fell on deaf ears. His father stubbornly reasoned that the mine would pay back all expenses in a year in itself and Greg's mere thoughts that it would be attacked by fellow valeman was preposterous!

After Greg's father emptied their coffers on material, equipment, and men his father set out with a workforce of 100 men to build the iron mine. A week later Greg had his green dream and immediately sent scouts to check on the progress. What greeted them were the decomposing corpses of the would-be miners.

After he sent the ravens of his father’s death, he received many formal letters of condolences one in particular from house Belmore with an offer attached. It could be summed up to that Lord Belmore was worried over house Highcliff imminent economic crisis and offered to buy the rights of the newly found iron mine in the light of his friendship with his father. If he hadn’t offered to pay the equivalent for near depleted iron mine his words would be seen as kind-hearted. Either way this confirmed his suspicion of his dream Greg mused darkly.

However, as he thought of his plan his mouth involuntary began to form a small smile. Greg brought out his latest letter a broken falcon sigil of wax marked it from the Eyrie. Although the situation has turned into catastrophe, Even the steepest mountain could be climbed by an ibex. Afterall, with his numerous complaints of mountain clan raids over the years stacking up one the old falcon's desk, his father’s death would give him all the justification he needed. It is a shame that he cannot join Belmore and the rest of the vale in the defence of Jon Arryn wards, after all he must chase out the mountain clans off his land but more importantly avenge his father and it would be unfortunate if the mountain clans spill over to the Belmore land, unfortunate indeed . Greg filled with renewed vigour laid a fresh parchment on his desk and began writing his response to his liege lord, unknown to Greg his small smile ever so slowy began to steadily turn into a ear splinting grin.

Author's note: Greg, the SI's future father seems to be as kind-hearted and honourable knight as his own father, no?
Constructive criticism is always appreciated.
Fun fact: A full discussion between Greg and his father was written but I forgot to save the draft

 

As many of you can tell, The Interlude was rushed. It will be rewritten to bring it up to my standard and follwed by a chapter of Bobby B + Ned in the vale.

 

Rewrite is up on new thread called,


An Ibex's Rise (ASOIAF, SI Rewrite)