The year is 281- which will later be known as the year of the false spring. King Aerys Targaryen, known as the Mad King, still holds the Iron Throne, casting a shadow of fear over the realm. However for every dark cloud there is a blue sky. Rumours are that Lord Whent has started rebuilding Harrenhall. Invitations have been sent to every corner of the realm to gather the proudest knights and most humble ladies for a celebration.

Your liegelord, Lord Robert Baratheon, now in his 19th year has expressed a keen interest in the celebrations. Young Lord Baratheon has been the ruler of the stormlands since his parents were cruelly taken by the sea 3 years ago. Although young he has born the responsibility as a liegelord well. Through his reign he has seen house Scales grow in prominence. When Lord Baratheon sends letters to his noble houses to invite them to Harrenhall one arrives at Castle Redford. The blocky letters and clumsy thick penmanship of the letter you recieve suggest it was penned by Baratheon himself.

Hopeful young maids around your castle whisper the Lord Baratheon recognizes his own past as an orphan in the young lord Scales, while cynics will fear Lord Baratheon may be cleverly manipulating the boy. The cynics remind people that the holdings of house Scales are still fresh. Castle Redford, sitting at the edge of the stormlands, may prove a valuable holding for an ambitious liegelord. Close trade with Targaryen held Kings Landing can provide much gold for a Raratheon that is rumoured to be struggling to finance a dowry. The maids dreamily wonder what beauty the handsome lord of Storms end has set his sights on.

While the schemers scheme and the dreamers dream for most the days stay the same. The winter had been hard around castle Redford and a milling crowd of labourers use the dawning spring to do neccesary repairs. Inside young maids scurry about under the watchful gaze of Reyanda Challinder- a woman who had been leading the Redford household for longer than Casyr Scales had been alive. In the courtyard Ser Paxtan Challinder makes his best impression of a wounded whale as he bellows at a young squire who didn't get his shield up in time. "sloppy shieldwork was how I got this" he warns while pointin at his empty eye-socket.