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The death of a lord. Edit

( the story about what happened to Ibelin Redmoores father )

It was a cold and dark night. A quiet night in Theramore or so it would seem. A storm was brewing, and you could hear the wind growing in strength. A character shrouded in an old cloak was making its way to the mailbox outside the inn. It was easy to tell that it was a man. He stopped for a second and looked over his shoulder, almost as if he was expecting someone. He let out a relived sigh and continued towards the inn. When he reached the mailbox he took out a letter from his pocket. He stopped again, and looked around to make sure nobody was watching him. He stared at the letter for a while, but suddenly he thought he heard something. He quickly dropped the letter into the mailbox, and turned around. Nobody was there. The man stood there for a while, he had a serious look upon his face. Suddenly he started moving again, he was running this time. He ran towards the docks, he slowed down after a while and regained his breath. He had to sit down for a while. He walked over to the end of the docs and sat down by the edge of the water. The waves were slamming against the shore, but he just sat there and watched them. He tried to keep warm with his cloak, but it didn’t help much. Suddenly he heard something. Footsteps. They were easy to hear on the wooden planks. The steps were getting closer until they stopped right behind him. “So you thought you got away this time?” a cold voice said. He slowly got on his feet, his eyes were full of fear. He slowly turned around and stood face to face with another man. His face was impossible to see because of a dark hood. “You don’t seem happy to see me”, the other man said. “I never am, Rex” he replied. The fear in his eyes was now replaced with anger. “You remember what I told you about escaping? Don’t you?” Rex continued. He didn’t get an answer, and that seemed to annoy him. “I am tired of your stupid pride, don’t you get it? You are nothing anymore, you will never see your beloved island again. And still you try to escape?”. Rex let out a dry laughter. “You really are something..”. The man by the water just glared at him, ignoring everything he said. He slowly dropped his cloak and revealed a sword in his belt. The hooded man stared at him for a while, “Don’t do anything stupid now. You know you can’t win. You are too old to beat anyone.” He said. “We’ll see about that”. The old man held a locket in his other hand with a picture inside. He stared at the picture for a while then he threw it away. The locket landed somewhere on the planks. His eyes flashed with anger and he charged towards the dark man. The storm was getting stronger and you could hear thunder in the distance. You could barely hear the fight that was going on by the docks. After a while the old man was kneeling at the ground, blood running down his chest. The darkhooded man, or Rex as he was called, had a few wounds in his face and on his shoulders. “I warned you, but you just wouldn’t listen. I don’t understand you lords. You always think you are better than everyone else, but I proved today that you are not.” He paused for a second and let out a long sigh. “You are just as pathetic as your wife was.”. The wounded man glared at him, then he coughed up some blood. “Oh for gods sake. I think I’ll do you a favor and just finish you here.”. He took out his dagger and slowly walked over to the wounded man. He knelt down infront of him and whispered coldly; “Any last words, Stefan?”. The wounded man answered by spitting in his face. “Nice, real nice” he said and purged his dagger into his chest. “I almost feel bad for you” he said and dragged the dagger out of his chest. “Almost”. The hooded man got up on his feet again and was about to leave, but noticed that the wounded man was still sitting there. “You never give up do you?”, he walked over to him and kicked him hard in his face so he fell to the ground. “Farewell…Lord Redmoore.” He turned around and gave some sort of signal. Two other dark men appeared at the docks. They picked up the corpse and dumped it into the cold water. Then they walked away following their leader.

All that was left on the docks was a golden locket with an emerald green “R” carved into it. The wind opened the locket and revealed a picture of a small family, a mother, a father and a little 10 year old boy. The storm raged all night, but it receded in the morning. Theramore was again quiet.

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