FISH
“If you ever find yourself in a fair fight, you deserve to lose.”
– Jarrod Torrealday
Lord Rogar Hillwhite, cousin to the late Halchris Hillwhite, addressed a table of stern nobles over a breakfast of fresh fish, dried fish, wine, and cakes, in the westernmost and highest tower of West Keep.
Sitting on a fjord five hundred feet above the sea, the towers of West Keep gleamed as the sun threw brilliant red beams across the clouds to the west, the small hall still in shadow.
Rogar was unmistakably a Hillwhite, tall and dark haired, with a commanding jaw and rigid posture. He wore the same type of clothes that Halchris had, if gaudier; more flash to the gold, more sheen to the silk. Renaldo had had trouble keeping them straight, and at one point had taken to referring to them as The
