GOT: House Redwyne

The sun was barely a pale disk on the horizon when Lord Paxter Redwyne summoned the captains back to the great hall. The news from the previous night's council had spread through the Arbor, and a palpable tension gripped the island. The usual hum of activity in the vineyards and docks was muted, the people of the Arbor sensing the dread that had settled over their lord's keep.

Paxter stood at the head of the long table, his expression as grim as the news he had to deliver. The captains assembled before him, their faces lined with fatigue but their eyes sharp, waiting for their lord to speak.

"Thank you all for returning so quickly," Paxter began, his voice carrying the weight of the decisions he had made during the long hours of the night. "As you know, the situation at Dragonstone has forced us to consider options we would never have entertained under normal circumstances. The threat we face is not just from Stannis Baratheon, but from the dark forces his Red Priestess commands."

The captains exchanged uneasy glances, the mention of Melisandre's powers still fresh in their minds. The shadows they had encountered at Dragonstone had shaken even the most battle-hardened among them, and the memory of those dark forces lingered like a poison in their minds.

Paxter continued, his tone unwavering. "We have no choice but to seek aid beyond the shores of Westeros. I have sent ravens to Braavos, requesting an audience with the Iron Bank. They have resources that could tip the balance in our favor, and I believe they will be amenable to our cause. But we must also prepare for the possibility that we will have to face these forces on our own."

One of the captains, a grizzled veteran named Ser Martyn Harte, spoke up, his voice tinged with concern. "My lord, the men are strong, but their spirits are low. The shadows… they have seen things that no mortal man should see. How do we fight something we can't touch, something that strikes from the darkness?"

Paxter nodded, understanding the captain's fear. "We cannot fight shadows with swords alone," he admitted. "But we can prepare. I have ordered the maester to scour the archives for any knowledge that might help us counter the Red Priestess's magic. We will also reinforce our defenses, strengthen our patrols, and ensure that every man is ready to fight when the time comes."

The captains nodded in agreement, though the unease in the room was palpable. Paxter knew that they were all thinking the same thing: conventional warfare had no place in a battle against forces as dark and unnatural as those they had encountered at Dragonstone.

But Paxter was not done. There was one more piece of news, one more decision that had been weighing on his mind since the council meeting.

"There is another matter we must discuss," Paxter said, his voice low. "I have received word from Lady Olenna. She has made contact with an… individual who may be able to assist us in countering the Red Priestess's magic. However, this individual is not of Westeros. He hails from the Free Cities, and his methods are… unconventional."

The captains exchanged puzzled glances, but Paxter could see the spark of curiosity in their eyes. Westeros had always looked upon the Free Cities with a mixture of suspicion and respect, knowing that they harbored men and women of great power and knowledge, but also of dubious morality.

"Who is this individual?" Ser Martyn asked, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

Paxter hesitated for a moment before answering. "He is known as The Shadowbinder. He is said to have knowledge of the dark arts, the kind of knowledge that might give us a fighting chance against Melisandre. But his price will be steep, and his loyalty will be to gold, not to any house or cause."

A murmur of unease rippled through the captains. The idea of making a pact with someone who dabbled in the dark arts was abhorrent to most of them, but the reality of their situation was undeniable. They were facing an enemy that did not fight by the rules of honor and chivalry. They needed to fight fire with fire, no matter how dangerous that might be.

"And if this Shadowbinder turns on us?" another captain asked, his voice edged with suspicion.

"We will take precautions," Paxter replied. "But we must also recognize that we are in desperate times. I would not have made this decision lightly, but we cannot afford to let our fear dictate our actions. We need every advantage we can get."

The room fell silent, the captains weighing Paxter's words. They were men of the sea, used to fighting with steel and strategy, not with shadows and spells. But the threat they faced was unlike any they had ever encountered. If this Shadowbinder could help them level the playing field, then perhaps it was a risk worth taking.

Finally, Ser Martyn spoke again, his tone resigned but resolute. "We will stand by your decision, my lord. But we must be vigilant. The men are already uneasy, and any hint of betrayal will spread like wildfire."

Paxter nodded, grateful for the captain's support. "I understand your concerns, and I share them. But I promise you, we will do everything in our power to ensure the safety of our people. We have no choice but to fight with the tools at our disposal."

With the captains' agreement, the council was adjourned, and the preparations began in earnest. Paxter issued orders for the fortifications of the Arbor to be strengthened, for patrols to be doubled, and for the maester to prepare for the arrival of the Shadowbinder. The entire island was put on high alert, the atmosphere one of tense anticipation.

As the day wore on, Paxter found himself standing alone on the balcony of the keep, looking out over the vineyards that had brought his house so much wealth and prestige. The sight that usually filled him with pride now felt like a distant memory, overshadowed by the darkness that had crept into their lives.

The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows over the landscape. Paxter watched as the sky turned from gold to deep crimson, the colors of the Arbor's famous wine, and he couldn't help but think of the blood that had been spilled, and the blood that would yet be spilled in the battle to come.

He heard the soft rustle of skirts behind him and turned to see Lady Mina approaching. She had a worried look on her face, one that Paxter had seen all too often in recent days.

"What troubles you, Paxter?" she asked, her voice gentle as she came to stand beside him.

Paxter sighed, the weight of his responsibilities pressing down on him. "Everything, Mina. The war, the Red Priestess, the choices we've had to make. I fear that we are walking a path from which there is no return."

Mina reached out and took his hand, her touch warm and reassuring. "You have always done what you must to protect our family and our people. This is no different. We are facing something dark and terrible, yes, but you are not alone in this. We will face it together."

Paxter looked into her eyes, finding solace in her strength. "I only hope that we are strong enough."

"We are," Mina said firmly. "And we will find a way to overcome this. The Redwyne name has endured for generations, and it will endure through this as well."

Paxter nodded, though the doubt still lingered in his heart. "The Shadowbinder will be here soon. I only pray that we can control the forces we are about to unleash."

Mina squeezed his hand, her expression resolute. "We will. And when this is over, we will rebuild what has been lost. The Arbor will stand strong, and so will we."

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting the island in the dark hues of twilight, Paxter felt a renewed sense of purpose. The challenges they faced were great, but they would not face them alone. Together, they would navigate the treacherous waters ahead, and they would do whatever it took to protect their home and their people.

The first stars began to appear in the sky, and Paxter knew that the Shadowbinder would arrive soon. The battle against the darkness had only just begun, but he was ready to face it.

For House Redwyne, for the Arbor, and for the future of Westeros, Paxter would not falter. No matter what shadows lurked in the night, he would stand strong, ready to face whatever came his way.