Alliances grew stronger over the years. Taking on the appearance of lasting peace among the most equivocal names on the Continent. Targaryen, Stark, Nerbosc, all joined forces to counter the threat of an older enemy. Victory cost them men's lives, but this sacrifice ensured the authority of the Crown. The Iron Islands were defeated, forced to offer wards and food to the victors. The death knell had not yet sounded in 289, perhaps it never would? Peace reigned supreme, or at least it allowed hopes to wander about this long utopian idea. Nevertheless the whispers spread news, alongside a few rumors reaching the ears of the most ambitious. Winter is coming, dragons endure, ghosts haunt lives as religions forge close bonds with each of the clans. The time has come for a lull, but is it sustainable as the government dares to claim? Plots are but echoes of an ancient time, like inaudible whispers, they hiss in everyone's ears. 298 the year is underway and claims to continue the game of Cyvosse.
Valar Morghulis.
