I am Robert, Man-at-Arms, Shoveller of the Nightsoil.
I reside in a small cell within the Plowman’s Keep, the main keep of Castle Darry. My quarters are modest, but the lice in the roughspun cloths are smaller and less aggressive than one might expect.
My House has fallen on hard times since the cruel defeat of the last dragon at the Ruby Ford, just a few miles up the kingsroad from here. We were Great Lords once, but our rich lands were stolen by the Usurper on the Iron Throne, as were the ingrate peasants who once plied the fields, for the mere crime of loyalty to our lawful king, to whom we had bent the knee.
The Citadel has this to say about my illustrious House:
The Darry castle and lands are modest, situated half a day south of the Trident and likely close to a river known as the Darry. The Darrys were one of the few riverland houses who fought on the Targaryen side, having been high in King Aerys’s favor. Ser Jonothor Darry was one of the Kingsguard and died at the same battle where Robert Baratheon killed Prince Rhaegar. Ser Willum Darry helped the queen and her children escape from King’s Landing and then, after the birth of Danaerys and the death of the queen, took the children to safety in Braavos. He died there from illness. This loyalty to the Targaryens led to the house’s wealth and power being disbursed to others who had fought for the newly-crowned Robert.
In older days, one of the great Lord Commanders of the Kingsguard was the Demon of Darry. The house is ruled by Lord Darry, with his heir being Ser Raymun Darry and his heir in turn being Lyman Darry, a boy of about 8 or 9 years.
Regrets, I have a few. But we are a gods-fearing folk, blood of the First Men, now devoted to the Seven. We know that should we remain true, if we continue to sow honor and righteousness, then our House shall rise from darkness and reap our deserving reward of justice and fertility.
Thus we busy ourselves with understanding the deeper mysteries which underlie the minstrels’ lively tales and the tapestries which once comforted our cold walls, and learn to battle through this adverse chaos and emerge once again to glory.
My interests include jousting, brewing barleycorn and wooing wenches at the Inn at the Crossroads.
My turnoffs include snails and your shitty politics. Please retire both at the gatehouse when you visit my kin Ami.