The Courtyard

A knight bows low before the queen. "His Grace will see you and your companions in the Great Hall, Your Grace."

The assembled men-at-arms do not stop or challenge Baelon as he goes, but they do wait patiently for Trajan to dismount.  "His Grace desires to speak to you as well, m'lord."

Zyraxes hissed ominously as the guards and crossbowmen approached, it's master standing in its looming shadow.

"A pleasure to see you as well, uncle." Trajan replied evenly, pulling a missive out of his saddlebags. "However, as the newest member of the Queensguard and a pardoned man, I will not be relinquishing my weapons. Besides, I am not sure you could carry them all. If His Grace wishes a word, he is welcome to do so from a distance, if only to satisfy your caution, ser."

Trajan leaned against one of his dragon's scaley legs, pulled a small throwing knife from inside his coat, and began to use it to clean the dirt from beneath his nails. Clearly the ex-inquisitor was perfectly content with waiting.

(OOC: That's up to Horas I suppose, as it's his policy to set where they're kept. I can't imagine they just aimlessly wander around the courtyard with Dragonmont right there, but maybe. I know Zyraxes is there, just because he just dismounted.)

"Grey Gallows." Trajan replied simply, not glancing up as he picked out a large piece of dirt (or dried blood) from under his middle finger.

OOC: I'm not sure if I ever directly specified where the dragons were kept, but given threads like when we all jumped up to meet Malcolm, they would have to be quite close by, and the Courtyard seems the most reasonable place.

The guard bowed to the Lord Commander. "Please, m'lord, you have to come at once. It's urgent. Ser Trajan must come too. Queen Rhaena commands it. She never said nothing about weapons."

It was not Trajan's first time being ambushed by crossbowmen, in fact he had received a similar welcome when he arrived at Blackhaven looking for Rhaegar. He had been too slow then to avoid a bolt in his shoulder, but he was not now. As the word "crossbowmen" escaped Brandon's lips, he dove beneath the only cover he had: his dragon. Clutching at the chains beneath Zyraxes' belly, bolts rained down upon the pair. The grey dragon roared in pain and rage, the bolts actually piecing deep at such close range. When the crossbowmen were forced to reload, the ex-inquisitor swung up into the saddle, Zyraxes letting loose a blast of smoke-grey flame that bathed the parapets. The smell of burning flesh was pungent on the nostrils as the dragon and rider took flight, wings buffeting Brandon below.

"The time for the White Cloaks is done!" he taunted, shouting down as he breathed in the ash of the dead and dying. "The realm has no need for men of your kind anymore! It never did!"

(Zyraxes takes a Light Wound. 7 of the 20 Crossbowmen Die.)

Up ahead, Edmund Waters saw the two combatants. Bastard born and raised a servant, he was rather distant to most of the dragonriders he actually knew, but he knew well enough that the Lord Commander was sworn to the king he'd promised to serve, and he'd never met Trajan Waters before. Fearing that the strange rider was an enemy spy, he swooped down on Aelyrion, urging the golden dragon first to attack the rider. Edmund will try to burn Trajan when allowed to participate in the fight.


(Dragon Handling - Noteworthy, Dragon Age - Fresh), using Fire

Brandon shifted on Aerion to see how close Trajan was behind. When he seemed close enough, Brandon urged Aerion around, blasting flame right into The ongoing dragon before plunging downward in an inverted dive. All the while closing the distance with Edmund.

(OOC: dragon handling expert. Edmund is coming towards me but I am also moving towards him.)

Baelon ran out of Windwyrm, making a mad dash for Seaskimmer. He leaped onto his dragon and quickly strapped himself on, getting her in the air as soon as possible and heading for Driftmark.