u/smithbird

As the title states. Would it be like country border checkpoints? Or just stationed everywhere around the planet. I can't really find anything about it.

Thank you!

Castle Golden Keep, Great Hall, Night

Cocktails, wine, ale, and beer. Grilled steak, roasted chicken, pork chops. Fresh salad, vegetables, both steamed and baked. An arrangement of 'deviled' eggs made to look like a dove. Ice. Ice. Ice. Mountains of ice, so cold that it sticks fingers, with brown bottles of beer sticking out. Wines and ales in such a variety that it makes one wonder how someone has the time to think up the names.

Tywin wasn't one to do taste testing of such spirits, but he had to make an exception for his guests. Of them, he took to cocktails, mainly one called an 'Old Fashioned'. A sipping drink similar to wine, but with a deeper, richer flavor that tickles the tongue.

He and several others watched as the 'Bartender', a woman skillful in concocting such drinks, did tricks as they worked. Gleaming steel cups flew through the air without spilling. Like a trained King's Fool. She finished the drink, a 'whisky sour', and handed it to Tyran's wife, Lady Rosalynd Lannister.

Leaving the show back to his seat, where an arrangement of foods sat waiting. The term 'noodles' was introduced by the Ambassador. An ingredient made from unleavened dough that is so prominent in their world, several realms have it as their signature delicacies. He had heard about a similar delicacy from Yi Ti, but this was the first time he had seen it himself.

In front of him was an 'Americanized' version of the Italian Pasta, called 'spaghetti and meatballs', served with something called 'garlic bread'. It wasn't that bad. Kevan had the steak with a potato and a side salad.

As they ate, Tywin got some insight from the Admiral about the expedition plans that her leaders had drawn up. Contact with the other major houses of the Seven Kingdoms is planned to take place on the morrow.

For that, ravens are to be sent to the Tyrells of Highgarden and the Tullys of Riverrun to inform them of the arrivals. Eventually, the delegation would be transported to Highgarden by sail, or in this case, 'turbine', through the Mander. For that, Kevan suggested seeking permission from the Shield Islands' houses first to enter the river.

The ones sent to Riverrun, on the other hand, would ride in helicopters that were similar to the ones that brought him and his court to Lannisport. Since the castle is located not that far from the Westerlands, they could easily send the helicopters from their fleet stationed just off the coast. This delegation would also be the ones who ask for the Tullys' permission to enter their region in order to make contact with the King.

Caution was given to them about the Ironborn, especially from the Farmans. But, with reassurance, the savage raiders, as Ser Jace puts it, shouldn't be a problem. A correspondence with their intent is to take place first, with permission of his grace, then someone would be sent. As to said 'someone', they are still being considered.

The others were to be sent ravens as well. Though the usage of 'drones' for sending the messages was brought up. Tywin advised against it. "I doubt the other Great Houses would take your soulless flying machines too kindly. The Martells would likely be too impulsive, hot-blooded to shoot them down. While the Eyrie is known to have winds stronger than the once great dragons, the falcons may not even get the message, or at least find the remains lodged in a mountainside."

"And the ever superstitious wolves would probably think of it as The Others' foul sorcery!" Tyran laughed out, grease from a 'fried' chicken wing dribbling down the sides of his mouth, unaware of the Americans' serious expressions. "And as always, the bad weather in the Stormlands may bring your drone down."

Both the Ambassador and Admiral spoke in each other's ear and nodded in agreement. "Very well, a raven it is then."

As dinner wound down, Lords and Ladies fought to be the first to speak to the esteemed Gunnery Sergeant Valera. Many would have to wait in a theoretical 'line'. But, as the saying goes, "there's plenty of fish in the sea," so they split into dozens of groups, each representing their own little corner of the Westerlands. Each finding a lone American to converse with.

"I must ask, my lady. Your accent is quite interesting. Where in your kingdom do you reside?" A Lord from the border region with the Reach questions. A sigil of nine strawberries on a white saltire, on green and red varying in point, was embroidered on his tunic. He and several others, along with their ladies, were entranced by the accent. The uniqueness of it brushed the ears.

The Marine was petite with onyx colored hair. Her eyes were like big blue gemstones that you could get lost in. She smiled, eager to speak. "Oh, ya too kind, Lord Turnberry. Ima from Minnesota and just a hop, skip, and a jump from Winnipeg up in'a Canada. Gosh golly, most southies and east coasters presume I'm from Canada. But I usually have to explain that I'm nooot. That doesn't really matter now. I've been meaning to ask bout the lake situation in the Westerlands. When I was a girl, I would take a boh-ut out with mi'pa in Lake Superior. Uff da, that's a big lake. We'd always get home by the time Ma was done with the Hot dish. Speaking of, I see that the chef actually listened to my request for some Tator an' cheese hot dish! Ope, let me just sneak past ya!"

The Lords and Ladies watched as this little Marine squeezed by them, even though she could have walked around. Their minds are a twisted mess at whatever the hells she just said. Several took big gulps of their drinks before they saw the Marine rush back with a plate. It was piled high with what they could presume was this 'Tator an' cheese hot dish'.

Fishing boats, fishing boats, and more fishing boats. Kelly thought as she finally got out of a conversation with several coastal Lords. The prospect of the ability to catch several times as many fish as ever before caught their minds. Some were modest and simply wanted to purchase one, maybe two. Others... Not so much. They spoke of entire fleets, with the offer of sons and daughters in exchange as payment.

Thankfully, Lord Tywin overheard and was able to 'curve' their ambitions into more realistic expectations. Gold would be permitted for purchase, though it was possible he was interested in the tax that he could impose on such an endeavor.

Finally alone, or as alone as someone could be in this event. Kelly got to enjoy some of her wine. Before once again being thrown back to the job. But instead of having to crush some Lord's dreams, a large wheeled cart caught the room's attention. Five by two, and four inches this. The cake celebrating the two-hundred and fiftieth anniversary of the Marine Corps was no laughing matter.

Tapping her glass with a fork, Kelly got the attention of the hall. "My Lords, my ladies. I want to personally thank you all for having us for this lovely evening."

Claps roar from the crowd. "Now, I'd like to have our honored guest cut this lovely cake. Gunnery Sergeant Valera, if you would."

Kelly steps aside for Gunnery Sergeant Valera, who is now wielding a ceremonial saber and cuts down into the cake. The band plays celebratory music, getting everyone into a jovial mood.

Quietly, Daisuke, now in his Dress Blues, following the Staff Sergeant and others, entered the hall. Sneaking behind the workstation used for the broadcast, Shino sat him down forcefully.

"Sit."

"But Staff Sergeant, shouldn't I go say hi to her or something?" He protested, trying to make up for the lost time. But no.

"Stay. I will let you know when to show your face, Corporal, that's an order." She said before she left with the others. Marla just smiled and blended in with the crowd.

Sulking, he sat, waiting like a child. The operator waved slightly before going back to his work. Which he thought was music control, but it wasn't. For on his monitors was... The ball? From a high vantage point, several cutouts of the event were just sitting there. He looked around at the areas a camera COULD BE, but no silhouette of one. No spiderweb of cables, no blinking light, no nothing.

Leaning in, he questioned the operator. "Hey man, where are the cameras at? I don't see anyone recording."

His friendly face went blank. And from behind him, a voice, "That's classified, Corporal Fox." A brunette man, dressed in a tuxedo that possibly costs several thousand dollars. He pulled a chair over and sat with Daisuke.

"Enjoying the night, Corporal?" He asked him. Eyes looking out at the crowd.

"Uh, yes, sir. It's going well so far."

"Good. Do you know what situation the US government is in at this moment?" He asked.

Daisuke was about to look at him, but "Eyes up front, Corporal." It was the tone of his voice that made him follow his order.

"Again, do you know what situation the US government is in at this moment?"

"I think so, sir." He answered the question; his voice had a slight shake to it. They sat for a few moments before the man spoke once more.

"Not even the half of it, Corporal. So, here is what we are gonna do, and by 'we', I mean you. In a few minutes, YOU are gonna get up, walk over to that girl." The man points to Mary, deep in conversation with another Lady of Lord Tywin's court. Once in a while, she would look around for someone. Someone who was at the moment sitting out of her view.

"You are gonna walk over to that girl. Apologies for being late, say Marine business, or something, I don't care, then give her a great night. Dance, drink, dance some more till either of you can't. Make this a core memory for her to remember. This isn't a request, it's an order. Do you understand, Corporal?"

Daisuke nods before the man claps him on the back and stands. "Good. Now, go get her, Corporal."

He then stood, buttoned his jacket, and left him alone. He walks over to a group of Lords that includes Ser Kevan and Lord Tyran.

"Case Officer Fontaine! So glad you could join us."

"Gunnery Sergeant Valera, please allow me to introduce my wife, the beautiful Lady Bethany, and my daughter, Alysanne". Lord Leo Lefford said, puffing his chest in pride, as the two ladies curtsied. Valera shook both the ladies' hands and kissed the tops.

"Charmed, my ladies. You both look stunning tonight. Glad to see that the foundation came just in time, but from what I'm seeing, it is wasted on you both; after all, it is hard to improve upon perfection."

Lady Bethany blushes slightly, "I have given my compliments to the Ambassador so many times that it will take a fortnight before it filters out." She then brushed a lock of hair from her daughter's eyes, showing off her face. "My sweet daughter has never looked so beautiful."

Alysanne curtsies again, her cheeks beginning to redden as she gazed on him. "My Lord- I mean, Ser. You are too kind. To be given such a compliment from a gallant warrior is more than any foundation from the known world. Or in this case, an unknown world, as it seems to get bigger every day."

Valera laughed with a smile, "Indeed so, Ma'am. Might I ask, Lord Lefford, where-"

"Please, Sergeant." Lefford interrupted, "Lord Leo is quite all right."

"Lord Leo, where is House Lefford located in the Westerlands? I haven't had the time to see one of your maps."

"Ahh, yes, the Golden Tooth. We are settled right on the River Road just at the border between the Westerlands and Riverlands. From its highest towers, you can see for miles upon miles. I had heard that a party will be venturing forth to meet the King soon. I must see if Lady Kelly would allow us to join her. I would be honored to host Americans in my halls."

"I am sure several other Lords have been itching to ask her the same thing," Valera replied.

"Will you as well accompany them? The Lady Ambassador, I mean." Lady Alysanne quickly asked before the subject was changed.

Her mother scoffs, "Alysanne, don't be rude! Forgive her, Ser."

"Ah, it's quite all right, Lady Beth, and Sergeant is fine. But to answer your question. I do not know. It would have to be up to my superiors."

"Of course, Sergeant."

Lord Lefford was so proud of himself. His story. The other Lords around him nodded in agreement. The bursts of laughter over some poor man's suffering. Just because of one thing.

They failed to notice that Gunny Valera was not smiling or laughing with them.

"Over an apple?" Valera questions as the laughter dies down to a chuckle.

"Indeed, if a smallfolk steals from you, they must be punished accordingly." Lord Leo exclaimed, as though he had slain a bear attacking Bambi. The story was, well, insane to Valera. But the other High Lords who trickled in around them agreed to his statement. Lady Bethany's bright smile had gone down a bit once the story finished, but their daughter, on the other hand.

Alysanne remained silent, sipping her wine while her emotions were behind the cup. Valera looked down at his own, nearly full. He swirled it before sipping.

"So let me get this straight, you banished a man to a freezing hellhole, simply over a piece of fruit."

"Of course." There's not an ounce of guilt in his voice.

"Then tell me, did you ever find out and fix what led up to a man having to steal food to survive? Why did he steal?"

"Pardon me?" Lord Leo asked, now on another cup. "Heh, gods know why. What matters is that he stole from his liege lord."

"Lord Lefford, correct me if I am wrong in my assessment, but as a lord, you were born to a privilege most could not even dream of, all thanks to your upbringing in one of the respected lineages of the wealthiest land on this continent. Had access to and were tutored by some of the best scholars in this kingdom that money and influence can afford. Yet, with all of these advantages and expectations placed upon you, you choose the path of lesser men. Thus, you failed to uphold the teachings and expectations placed upon not just your forbearer, but also by your Liege Lord Tywin Lannister. Am I correct in this assessment?

Cough "Well, as a lord, there are certain actions we must take to enforce order in our lands." Lord Leo, blubbered out.

"The actions you took are not a treatment for the source of a problem, just its symptoms. Your choices can have drastic effects on the future of not just your land, but also your house, your legacy. You wouldn't want to do anything that would endanger your wife and daughter, would you?"

"I highly doubt a man getting sent to the Wall will have such consequences." Lord Lefford said with a bit of red anger on his face.

"If that man had a family, you have just made your future problem worse without solving it. So let me break this down for you on how that was the case. If that man had a wife and children, you just got rid of their breadwinner, so two or more people are already affected."

"And I'm presuming that his wife stayed home with the kids. So now, with him gone and his wife not having the time or skills to provide for her children, their situation would turn out for the worse, which in turn would make them desperate."

"Simply put, your actions didn't get rid of a criminal; you just created more of them. Where a simple action of offering that man a form of paid service would do a better job, and if your ego truly needs to be satisfied, I guess a few cane strikes to his back if you are truly that sour and petty." Gunnery Sergeant Valera said with calm conviction

"You want me to employ a lowly thief!?" Lefford said with rising rage in his tone.

"I was merely suggesting to put able-bodied men to work, work that is beneficial not just to you but to others as well. The easiest thing you could do is have people maintain important infrastructure, your roads, for example. How much envy would other lords and ladies feel when they see your smooth and paved stone roads? That the rain and muck are no longer stopping caravans from passing through. Another benefit is that your bannermen won't march on mud. I am sure that even your liege lord can see it as well."

"Indeed, I would Ser Valera," Said a voice that immediately stiffened Lord Leo. Tywin said from behind the crowd, Ambassador Kelly standing next to him as they watched the whole exchange.

"Lord Lefford, while our new friends across the Sunset Sea may view our ways as strange as we view theirs. Bringing up topics such as forcing a thief to take the black is not proper during a festive occasion. Besides, Ser Valera does have the right to it. Wasting an able-bodied man in the snow, when he could pay for his crime in ways that would better suit you."

"A man of a prestigious lineage like yours should have conducted himself as such. If even he can see it, what does that say for everyone else?" He glared at Lefford as if daring him to disagree with him.

"I-I understand, my lord," Lefford said in a small, defeated tone. Though it felt more as a quick get out of jail free card to move on from the subject.

Gunnery Sergeant Valera turned to both Lady Bethany and Lady Alysanne before placing his hand over his heart and giving a solemn bow you would expect from a prince or noble. "I would like to apologize to both of you for my outburst. It was ungentlemanly of me to judge by the expectations of a man in high positions back home. I hope you can forgive me."

Lady Bethany and Alysanne both looked at him in surprise that he would apologize, not because of what he said to Lord Lefford, but because his words would have affected both of them as well.

The silence of the group, even though drowned out by the hum of flutes, was deafening. Valera already knew he was gonna get chewed out, but he didn't care. Someone had to say something. Might as well be him.

Then, the music changed to a recognizable tune for the Westerosi natives. Lords and Ladies left their groups and watched as servants moved the oak tables. Allowing for plenty of room for one thing, and one thing only. Dancing. Just as quickly as it started, the music changed to one only recognizable by those who have come across the Sunset Sea. "Fly Me to the Moon" – Frank Sinatra.

Valera watched as his fellow Marines took a partner's arm, whether it be their fellow soldier, opposite sex for now, so as not to give any Westerosi a heart attack at the sight. That would be for another day.

He smirked before turning to Alysanne, still hiding behind her cup of wine. "Lady Alysanne," he bent over slightly with his hand palm out, the snow-white of his gloves seemed to glow in the light. "Would you give me the honor?"

Surprised by the gesture, she looked to her mother, but not caring if she agreed with her acceptance. She placed her cup on a nearby table and took Valera's hand, smiling.

They walked to the cleared arena, hand in hand, before Valera pulled her in for idle steps. Doing this for a time, he looked down at her. Clearly, she was enjoying this.

"Your father, well... let's just say there are some other words I would use to him that would be improper in front of a lady." He said, leading her along. Passing others with their partners. She was taken aback slightly before she seemed to shrink into her shoulder. As the tempo of the song changed, Alysanne quickly adapted to Valera's style. Matching every step.

"I love my father," She began, "As any daughter should try to do. But I have to agree. Please, forgive him." She looked over to the sidelines where both her parents stood. Her mother watched, happy for her to have such a momentous thing happen. Her father, though, seemed to stare daggers at him. His knuckles turned white as he gripped the wine cup.

"He lied to you, the Ambassador, and even Lord Tywin, Gunnery Sergeant Valera." The proper use of his name and rank brought him back to her while putting the dancing steps on autopilot.

"What...?" He asked, though he could fill the spaces in himself, and he didn't like it.

"About the man's family, and not knowing. He had the mother flogged in the dungeons before having his guards take turns on her. While their children were tied to a raft and sent down a river nearby, and..." Tears began to pool in her eyes as he pressed herself against him.

He turned his back to her family, "And then...?"

She sniffled, using a handkerchief to dab the tears, "At the gold mines of the Golden Tooth, nearby where a section of the river flows to, there's a waterfall that goes into a chasm."

The Sergeant can already connect the dots, and he hates every single one of them.

Hmm, "Thank you for telling me. Does your mom know?" He already knew the answer. But she nodded all the same.

"Just the mother being flogged. Father told her that the mother was immediately sent away afterwards, and the children were to be sent to the King Joffrey's Septry. I just happened to see a few guards coming out of the dungeon with a satisfied expression. I also overheard my father command the Captain of the Guard to have the children killed." She started to shake slightly.

Not really knowing what else he could do in public. He grabbed his cloak and pulled it off himself with a flourish that grabbed the noble's attention before placing it on her to comfort her and holding her in a hug. He looked around at the bordering onlookers; several ladies seemed to envy the girl. Watching like hungry lionesses eager to ravage him and taste blood.

He moved them both deeper into the crowd of dancers. Still hugging her, with his cloak, and the darkness, along with the compression of his hug, does the trick. Just like any other Marine suffering from PTSD, something as simple and reassuring as a hug can be what they need to bring themselves back together. She stopped shaking, and her breathing went back to normal. The music adds to this crazy situation.

"I'm sorry you had to see that." Shhh. "It's gonna be alright. Everything's gonna be alright." Valera whispered into her ear to calm her down before gesturing to Lady Bethany to come over, who then took her daughter away to calm down. All while still wearing his cloak like a security blanket.

It was some time after the first two songs before Staff Sergeant Shino came back for Daisuke. She snapped to get his attention and ordered him to follow her. Quickly, the two stayed behind the onlookers, eager to have a chance on the dance floor. They passed servants attending the cups being held out behind the onlookers.

Just as the third song was ending, the two reached their destination. Standing in front of them were Mary, her brother, and Lord Father. Staff Sergeant Shino leaned over to Daisuke so she wouldn't have to yell over the music.

"Good luck, Corporal." She said before patting him on the back and seemingly disappearing into thin air.

He sighed, stretched, and breathed in slowly. This sucks. He thought before he made his way to them.

The silence as the band got ready to play again gave him the window he needed to get the three's attention. "Lord Marston, Ser Marlaw, Lady Mary."

Mary seemed to beam at his call. He noticed her swivel on her heel like a soldier at attention. "Corporal Fox!" She went to him, arms open and embraced, making sure not to spill a cup of wine.

Her brother and father raised their cups to him. "Ah, Corporal Fox, it's good to finally see you join us here." Said Ser Marlaw.

She let go of him, her face frowned in disapproval. "Where have you been? The gods must have had you doing something important, or was it that you had not wanted to come?"

"My daughter has been restless and couldn't stop talking about you when you're gone. So pray tell us what was holding you back." Lord Marston also asked, and Daisuke would be lying if he said that he's not feeling a little bit intimidated by it.

"No, no!" He raised his hands in defense to Mary before turning to her father. "As for the reason for my disappearance. I was called by my superiors. Sergeant Shino can vouch for me, I promise. Lord Marston." He crossed the left side of his chest.

The three looked confused, "What does that mean?" Mary asked.

Daisuke raised an eyebrow, then laughed. "Haha. Forgive me, it's something my sister and I would do when we were kids. 'Cross my heart, hope to die', it's a phrase used to solemnly swear that I am telling the truth, an oath you can say, often accompanied by drawing a cross over the chest. See."

He crossed just above the left part of Mary's chest, where her heart is, while her father was contemplating, expression. "Hmm, I find your explanation... acceptable. But I hope you are a man of your word. I don't know about your people, but we do take oaths very seriously."

"Yes, that's how I became a knight." Ser Marlaw added. "I made a vow to be brave and just, to pledge my sword to protect the innocent. Gods will forever curse a man who broke an oath, especially one that was spoken in their names."

"I would do my best not to disappoint you, Lord Marston, Ser Marlaw," Daisuke assures the Drox's patriarch and heir.

Before further questions could arise, the music began to play once more, but not from a band. The stage speakers had been set up for Gunnery Sergeant Valera's speech and left for later use. It took Daisuke a few seconds to recognize the tune.

"Ilene Woods, So This Is Love." The Cinderella version of all things, Rio had worn that DVD down when we were kids. He thought, looking to find who was responsible.

Then he saw them, up near the controls of the speakers. Josh, Reggy, who had been brought over to handle cooking for the Ball, two of the girls who dragged him here, and Staff Sergeant Shino. All five of them had those shit-eating grins. Had he had the chance, he would have gone up there and given each of them a piece of his mind, at least the ones equal to his rank.

Then, a slight tug on his coat brought him back. "What a beautiful song. Did you ask for it?"

Mary looked at him, joy filled her eyes. There was nothing he could do. Orders are orders. He looked back once more at the group. You jackasses!

"Y-yes! I thought it would be a nice change from what you're used to. Shall we?" He held out his hand for her.

"Yes." Mary accepted it with her father and brother's nod of approval. They then both walked to the center and slowly took each other's arms.

Mary's heart felt like it would burst through her chest as she was enveloped in Daisuke's arms. The great hall had a slight chill to it from the high windows that had been left open. But that didn't matter; the warmth from his dress blues traveled in his hands.

"So this is love, mhm. So this is love."

Slowly, the two began to twirl, their arms entwined together, hand in hand. Mary was given a few lessons from Shino and the other Marines about this style of dancing. The Waltz. Dating back over four hundred years, American years. But it's still fascinating to her at the simplicity. Simple moves and pretending to be in a box. How fun!

One, two, step. One, two, step. One, two, step. Mary repeated the timing in her head as the dance beat went with the music. One, two, step.

Her dress went too and twisted with each movement. The length is just right to hide her feet and not impede the movement; she felt as though she floated atop the stone floor. Highborn eyes watched her and Daisuke as they danced, more and more each second.

"The key to all heaven is mine. My heart has wings, mm. And I can fly."

All light seemed to shine on them, now alone, at the center of the great hall. Tracking their steps like a watchful eye above. Daisuke pulled her hand up, giving her ample room to twirl. The skirt ballooned into a bowl just to collapse. Mary was pulled into his arms, holding her back, tipping her like a teapot. The smile never leaves her face.

"So this is the miracle. That I've been dreaming of."

The melody began to slow, nearing the end. She looked to the sideline. Her family watched, her brother with a smile, and her father with a sad one. His little girl was growing up in front of his eyes. Shino and the girls on the other side, silently cheering her on.

Marla stood behind waiting.

The song ended with a beautiful tune that tickled her ears. The light became brighter, and just then, Mary looked over to Marla. She nodded, gave her a scooting motion of her hands, and mouthed a word. Now!

With the signal, Mary tapped Daisuke's shoulder. Just as he looked, she surprised him with a kiss. Letting go of him, Mary ran off back to the crowd. Leaving Daisuke standing alone, stunned, and with an imprint on his cheek.

Saving that for later. She thought as the crowd of onlookers cheered for joy, truly making this night feel like a fairy tale.

That was unexpected, but then again. She's a teenager. Kelly thought as she meandered through the hall.

Servants scurried around as tables were cleaned, food trays now long emptied and removed. At an end table, a lord remained seated, hunched over a cup with a nearby pitcher. Once in a while, a servant would try to collect, and he would curse for them to leave. Lord Lefford had been there since his daughter finished dancing. Served him right.

She looked down at her watch for the time, 11:34. The hours had ticked by faster than expected, thanks to all the excitement. She overheard a group of ladies squawking about Mary and how they wished to be in her position. One or two of them were Kelly's age. She shook her head and made her way back to the dais. Time for gifts.

On board the USS Savannah are five quadcon shipping containers. One had already been shown to the ladies' entourage in the ship some time ago, including Lady Drox, Lady Brax, Lady Estern, Lady Crakehall, and, of course, little Lady Banefort. Who at this moment had a Septa hovering around her to not get into mischief. Though the closest thing was squeezing Corporal Fox's dog, Aki, to death.

Before the start of the Ball, the other four containers were brought up to the castle via a Logistics Vehicle System Replacement truck, or LVSR. Their contents are prepackaged into latched crates. An hour beforehand, these crates were loaded up onto MUTTs and are now being carried by them through the great hall door.

Though rumors had spread about "steel onyx" pulling cargo with greater strength. For many, if not most, of the Lords never had the chance to actually see them. Thus, the call for the opportunity to purchase one already filled her ears. No matter, those calls went silent as the crates slipped from the transport pallets to the stone. Landing with a loud thump!

A few mechanical snaps later, the crates opened to a waiting audience. A wave of yellow light washed over them like a sunrise. Each crate is full of equal opportunity gifts, several mainly to show off the manufacturing use case. Such as dozens of textiles in a variety of colors, each as vibrant as the last.

Miniature versions of larger items such as boats, tractors, sawmills, cotton gins, and steam machines. New in package hand tools such as wrenches, ratchet & socket sets, a variety of both screwdrivers and pliers, hand crank drills, wood working equipment. If it used zero electricity, it was in the containers.

Toys were another thing that Kelly personally insisted on. From teddy bears to Lincoln Logs. Of the few not permitted, Legos were sadly one of them. Being a choking hazard and all. Kelly watched as two little boys, maybe nine or ten each, picked up plastic lightsabers. A black Marine showed them how they worked, causing joy to burst from the other kids. She smiled, thinking of her own.

Another set of crates could have been called a library in its own right. From top to bottom full. Ranging from manuals and help guides. All the way to classic literature like Moby Dick and Ivanhoe. The Library of Congress had flooded the White House with suggestions on what to bring. Too many to count and or fit in just one.

The last was Kelly's favorite, bicycles. In a world where the fastest travel by land was a horse, with those being limited to a lucky few. The bicycle was cheaper than a horse, with lower maintenance costs, and most importantly, if a part breaks, it can be replaced. A female Marine unhooked one and showed it to the Lords and Ladies, and rode it around the hall, leaving a great impression on the latter.

"We also have something for you, Lord Tywin," Kelly said to a group of lords huddled around the Lord's table. A Marine engineer was demonstrating one of the cotton gins, the seeds and stems separating with ease.

Tywin looked to her, a brow raised. "For me, why?" The surrounding lords looked up from the now nearly clean cotton.

Kelly shrugged, "Just as a thank you gift for the hospitality you and your people have shown us these past few days." She stepped to the side, allowing a young man in a black suit to come forward. He held a container protected by a custom-made velvet bag for a box fifty-five inches long and four inches wide. He wore the same white gloves, similar to Gunnery Sergeant Valera, as he cradled it, though it was a child.

He gave a slight bow, "Lord Tywin, my name is Leon "Orfevre" Muller." He puts out a hand, still clutching the box. Tywin takes the greeting.

"Forgive me. Leon, you said? But your accent doesn't match Lady Kelly's, or any other Americans. And 'Orfevre'? Never heard of such a name." Tywin said, retaking his seat.

Leon smiled, "Well, I am not surprised at that. As I'm not American. I come from the European continent. Born in the city of Zurich, Switzerland. I moved to the States when I was young."

"Switzerland? So, your realm was left behind during the Storm?"

"Yes. My parents were in Bern when it happened."

"I am sorry for your loss." Tywin said with supposed truth, "You also have no rank. I suppose that means you're not in the Marines?"

Leon nodded before placing the container down on the table, "That would be correct, Lord Tywin. I am a watchmaker, or you may know it as a Jeweler and Goldsmith. The latter is even what "Orfevre" means in one of my languages. You and the Lords here have already seen some of my work." He began to untie the knot at one end of the sack.

"The wristwatches, were they all of your design?" Ser Torren said, one such watch was on his left wrist.

"Nein, I mean no. Just one, it would be my colleagues, well, former colleagues back in Switzerland did the others. Each had worked tirelessly on those specific ones. Yours included, Ser Torren. That one's of my own design." Leon smiled as the container was pulled out. Ser Torren marvels at the watch.

"Impressive," Lord Tywin says, eyeing the latched wood container placed before him. "What's this?"

"This, Lord Tywin. Is your gift. Leon, if you would please." Kelly said, giving Leon the go-ahead. Carefully, he undid the three golden latches. The case was sequoia left over from the last days of the wood harvesting gold rush. Enough for this case was found in the Smithsonian's storage facility. It was cut, formed, stained, and lacquered five days ago.

Inside the case was both a Longsword, forty inches long, resting, and a dagger in plush velvet that catches the light like a mirror. Both scabbards were bull leather, braided in a twisting swirl effect, studded with shiny brass studs. The sword stole hearts; one of the eye-catchers in this stage was the hilt. Gun blued onyx black to a mirror finish, intricate gold inlay crisscrossing the guard, highlighting the onyx mirror finish that absorbed the light.

The handle is fossilized mammoth ivory that had a beautiful spiral fluting down its length. Finely braided gold wire sitting neatly between the flutes of the handle added contrast without interfering with the fluting of the handle.

The pommel was a showstopper, sculpted by hand from Leon. The pommel was the same mirror back finish as the guard, but was carved and shaped to resemble a lion, gold inlay highlighting the lion's mane and its facial features as it stared proudly towards any enemy its master wished to cut down. Eyes carved from black fire opal shone like the night sky.

Carefully, Leon lifted the longsword from its bed. By now, every Lord, Lady, and their children were watching. Leon held the sword out for Tywin, "It won't bite." He said with a smile.

Tywin took the sword as though it were any other. Examining it mystically, testing the weight and balance. Feeling every inch, the smooth leather felt good on his fingers. The inlaid gold had no indent to give off any errors, as though the iron mined from the ground was mixed with it.

"The lion pommel is a work of art. There's always a place in Lannisport for a goldsmith of your talent." He told Leon, getting an almost child-like grin. He stood, examining it in the light.

"I thank you, Lord Tywin. It took me two days to craft it. Originally, it was the same design and shape to match the cross guard, but I figured a sword for a man of your station deserved something greater. Unsheathe it, and you will understand what I mean."

The crowd of lords stepped back as Tywin carefully wrapped his hands around. With a click, the sword smoothly came out of the scabbard, the steel slowly revealing itself to be something of legend.

The steel was dark; dragon glass came to mind before he was able to inspect it closer. The light beamed off its sharp edges as he held it high, revealing the layered pattern that showed it was different upon closer inspection; the details fine revealed themselves. Like intricate patterns of the finest Myrish tapestry, the steel's pattern in a geometric uniform shape made the normal pattern of other Valyrian Steel look plain. Sharp, uniform cuts were made into the steel itself, the dark blade being contrasted by the silver pattern beautifully. The forging process was clearly more advanced than anything he had seen before.

He placed a hand on the flat side; the metal was smoother than any sword he had once held in his very hands. Tywin left the dais, making for open space in the hall. The weight of the sword was most impressive, almost unfathomable. Lighter than the traditional long sword, he swung it to get a true feel. His hands stuck to the grip better than any leather. Each slice in the air sang a foreign song so sweet to the ears that he wished to be young again to be able to swing for hours. This sword was a masterpiece that would be the envy of the realm, and it was his, a truly worthy blade for House Lannister.

It's close, no, very close to it that one could say it was the same. He thought as the light allowed him to inspect each detail again.

"I see you approve of the Damascus blade. When I saw the blade, I knew I had to make a pommel worthy of it for your house." Leon said with pride

"There is only one other steel in the known world that this sword is trying to imitate. Though it does a stupendous job at it. Unnaturally so." Tywin said as he ran a thumb across the edge. With just the slightest bit of pressure, blood began to form from a very small cut.

One of his Lords gasped slightly, "Lord Tywin, you don't mean...?" Soon, others caught on to his suggestion. They all looked at Kelly and Leon, confusion etched on their faces.

"Pardon me, Lord Tywin, but may I ask what other steel could the Damascus be trying to imitate?" Leon asked.

The steel sang once more as Tywin resheathed the sword.

"Yes, the strongest steel in the Known World, the Valyrian steel."