Chapter 114: ‘ The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part II
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Chapter 114: ‘ The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part II
POV: Eddard Stark
On the Northern Grid, Tomb Road, about ten miles from Barrowton.
Year 289 A.C., the 29th day of the ninth moon.
Two days after a young Lord began to try his hand at the art of dancing, singing, and poetry...
The hour was late in the inn 'Hearth of the First King'. Named after the First King Dustin, who many historical sources assume was the First True King of the First Men.
Nearly all of the four hundred and twelve guard and refreshment facilities in the Northern Network were implemented with taverns, inns, and even small brothels.
After bonding, the Northern roads had long been the safest and quickest ways to travel.
Four hundred and twelve minor customs points where a small duty had to be paid per person (children under twelve excluded).
One penny per ten miles per person.
Three pennies for each horse (Services of fodder, watering and stable included).
One copper star for each pulling wagon (Horses, shovels or mules included).
Three copper stars for each merchant wagon (If the wagon carries merchant goods with a value of one gold dragon or more).
Security over people and property was guaranteed along the entire stretch of road by the House of the North to which the land belonged.
Each guard point had twenty Northern soldiers on patrol at the blockade point or stretch of road.
Ned Stark had recently asked the portentous genius of numbers how much profit he thought this customs point made. The comings and goings of people were really remarkable.
"I cannot give a precise answer, my lord. However, I can tell you that the average daily profit on the entire Northern Network in the last quarter was one hundred and nine silver deer and four pennies.
So, considering that your total customs points are sixteen... in tolls alone, minus a tenth to be paid to the Crown... So yes, House Stark should have earned an average of thirty-eight gold dragoons and nine silver moons per day. But there is a 0.8% margin of inaccuracy to consider, my lord.
If it brightens your evening, Lord Stark, I and my other accounting associates estimate that by the second quarter after the start of summer, traffic will increase by at least 320%. The temperature will rise, the roads will need less maintenance; therefore, maintenance costs should drop by a minimum of 34%, increasing average net income." Replied Ronan, son of Tom, the master of coinage in direct service of Torrhen's Square.
'The Old Gods bless this boy.
After Robert signs that damn Royal Bill, I swear by my Ancestors, I will personally ride to Torrhen's Square to make this "True Hero of the North" a Green Knight.' Ned thought as he eyed the tavern's interior filled with members of his guard, drunk, merry, and well-fed...
That bottomless, shameless pit of Ser Haymitch was simultaneously embracing two promiscuous, easygoing damsels. He could not deny his men a well-deserved celebratory revelry after fighting on the front lines in the name of the North and the House that protected it.
"Another drink! Ahahah! TAVERNIER! HEY, TAVERNIER! Fill up the mugs and cups for everyone! Yes, Yes... hick... mark it in my name!" Shouted Ser Haymitch.
"Have you got the money, Ser? I ain't seen one copper coin here yet!" So shrieked the tavernkeeper, stopping the hand of a maid intent on getting two more full jugs of wine.
"How dare you! You are... burgh... I am a Knight and a War Hero in the service of the Noble, Wealthy and Powerful House Stark!!! What do you take me for? For a drunken... burph... hick!... A drunken two-bit ragamuffin, by any chance?! PEOPLE! HEY PEOPLE! Another toast!... TO LORD EDDARD STARK!" Invoked Haymitch at the top of his lungs, jumping up on the table.
"TO LORD STARK!!! YEEAAAAHH!!!" Shrieked in unison, over a hundred people raised their glasses.
*Sbam!* Eddard involuntarily slammed his open hand down on the table.
'That's enough, Ser! This is the fourth glass you've offered, or rather, that "I" offer to the whole tavern!' Howled the Quiet Wolf inwardly, holding back a growl.
Ned breathed deeply and regained his composure.
"Are you all right, my lord?" Ronan asked, the only golden light in that dark tunnel of misery, debt, non-refundable loans and unpaid bills.
That mathematical genius, sent by Lord Leobald Tallhart to help him prepare for his next face-to-face meeting with Lady Barbrey Dustin, had been assisting him enormously over the past few days in understanding and learning how to best expound the critical points in his favour for the approval of the loan of Four Million Three Hundred and Thirty Thousand gold coins to be applied for from the CEO and Majority Shareholder of the newly prosperous Never Winter Bank.
Ned could not delay any longer... Postponing the meeting with the Widow of Barrowton would have been interpreted as a clear sign of offence and provocation. New novel chapters are published on
If the King of the North had been forced to grovel at the feet of his rich and powerful sworn bishop, lest in future House Stark face the Titan and the Lighthouse with Winterfell's coffers and armoury empty, Ned, with effort and much spirit of sacrifice, would have swallowed his honour for the second time and done so...
Moreover, his Magical Hosts would arrive in White Harbor within less than a moon. Ned had many preparations to make... and so many noble and opulent people to entertain and feed...
Before he dismissed that boy and lay down on his bed, Ned needed to hear those candied and persuasive numbers.
Tomorrow would come, and he needed to at least give himself a more than deserved night's rest filled with dreams, plenty of gold, and hope.
"Please, Master of Coin Ronan... Before you take your leave, could you repeat House Stark's profit prospects on the Damascus Steel shield and armour trade?" He was well aware that this was the fourth time he had asked him the exact same question in two days, but Ned desperately needed it.
"Emm... of course, my Lord.
Suppose Grandmaster Mott can keep to the promised timetable, and Lord Duncan can advertise well in front of all the guests from Westeros and Essos who have currently confirmed participation. In that case, we estimate a minimum net profit in the first year of about eight hundred thousand gold dragons." Ronan replied with a slightly confused expression.
"Here... That would be thirty Galleys with a crew aboard of about three hundred people each, along with the thousand on the flagship... emm plus or minus six thousand nine hundred additional guests, Lord Stark."
End POV.
------------------------------------
POV: The Widow of Barrowton.
Lady's Private Solarium, Barrowhall.
The morning after, a Greedy Wolf was forced to take three more drops of a life-saving mixture before going to bed...
"Lord Eddard Stark, my lady." Wylla (Tysha) announced, bowing.
"Please have our welcome guest take a seat. Thank you, Wylla."
The Lady of Barrowton's personal attendant bowed, taking her to leave the room.
Finally, the moment promised and longed for by the Widow of the last descendant of House Dustin arrived.
Barbrey still felt some resentment for the trick played by that white-haired demon boy... but at least he had to admit that Bloody Snow was an ally of his word.
That boy could literally move Kings and Queens wherever and whenever his devious plots dictated.
Lady Dustin wouldn't have bet a penny on Tywin Lannister.
To move that rancorous stone giant and convince him to form an alliance with the Targaryens and the Martells.
Barbrey still did not understand why Duncan was so determined to go all-in with the man, nor why he wanted the Lannisters to be the North's second greatest allies.
Gerion Lannister, he would have understood, but what about Old Lion?
Did he want to trust the man who had treacherously struck the capital, ordered twelve thousand men to sack a city and go on a rampage, and forced his son to witness the **** of poor Tysha?
That boy... No, that 'Player' did not move pieces on the chessboard without a precise purpose or motive...
Bloody Snow was probably aware of missing information within his own ranks.
This was no time to think about the Lion of Casterly Rock... now Barbrey would have to focus all his attention on the Wolf of Winterfell.
A tall, strong, well-combed and well-dressed man entered the room, accompanied by the sound of closing doors...
Barbrey stood up from his desk in a tree-like position and gave the newcomer a warm and welcoming smile.
Her predatory nose caught the scent of fear and discomfort from the meek Wolf King who had just entered her nest unarmed.
A fragrance that made the remembrance and vengeful Widow of Barrowton's mouth water.
A slight twinge in her heart made her reason return quickly.
It was a warning sign from the mighty seal of druidic magic clinging to her heart.
That blood pact sealed with one of the most powerful ritual magics of the Sons of the Forest, which she and the other fourteen Green Knights had made at the Eye of the Gods, bound them together for the rest of their days.
She could neither betray nor fail to answer the call for help of her King to whom she had sworn enduring loyalty before the eyes of the Old Gods...
But that didn't mean Barbrey couldn't have a little fun.
The woman was well aware of what she could and could not do in front of this man.
Like, for example, the 'forgetfulness' of the servants in offering her guest bread, salt, and mead at the entrance to Barrowhall...
"Your Grace, what an honour...
Your faithful vassal, Barbrey Dustin, Lady of Barrowton, Shield of Saltspear, Protector of Barrowlands, Green Knight in the service of the Old Gods and the First Men, as well as humble Trustee of the new and modest Never Winter Bank, welcomes you, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Winter's First Defender and King In The North."
End Chapter.
-------------------
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Here's my Ko-fy link for you: /duncanrandargotpaladin
Thanks everyone and leave a comment! See you next time!****
Please report us if you find any errors so we can fix it asap!
Chapter 114: ‘ The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part II
POV: Eddard Stark
On the Northern Grid, Tomb Road, about ten miles from Barrowton.
Year 289 A.C., the 29th day of the ninth moon.
Two days after a young Lord began to try his hand at the art of dancing, singing, and poetry...
The hour was late in the inn 'Hearth of the First King'. Named after the First King Dustin, who many historical sources assume was the First True King of the First Men.
Nearly all of the four hundred and twelve guard and refreshment facilities in the Northern Network were implemented with taverns, inns, and even small brothels.
After bonding, the Northern roads had long been the safest and quickest ways to travel.
Four hundred and twelve minor customs points where a small duty had to be paid per person (children under twelve excluded).
One penny per ten miles per person.
Three pennies for each horse (Services of fodder, watering and stable included).
One copper star for each pulling wagon (Horses, shovels or mules included).
Three copper stars for each merchant wagon (If the wagon carries merchant goods with a value of one gold dragon or more).
Security over people and property was guaranteed along the entire stretch of road by the House of the North to which the land belonged.
Each guard point had twenty Northern soldiers on patrol at the blockade point or stretch of road.
Ned Stark had recently asked the portentous genius of numbers how much profit he thought this customs point made. The comings and goings of people were really remarkable.
"I cannot give a precise answer, my lord. However, I can tell you that the average daily profit on the entire Northern Network in the last quarter was one hundred and nine silver deer and four pennies.
So, considering that your total customs points are sixteen... in tolls alone, minus a tenth to be paid to the Crown... So yes, House Stark should have earned an average of thirty-eight gold dragoons and nine silver moons per day. But there is a 0.8% margin of inaccuracy to consider, my lord.
If it brightens your evening, Lord Stark, I and my other accounting associates estimate that by the second quarter after the start of summer, traffic will increase by at least 320%. The temperature will rise, the roads will need less maintenance; therefore, maintenance costs should drop by a minimum of 34%, increasing average net income." Replied Ronan, son of Tom, the master of coinage in direct service of Torrhen's Square.
'The Old Gods bless this boy.
After Robert signs that damn Royal Bill, I swear by my Ancestors, I will personally ride to Torrhen's Square to make this "True Hero of the North" a Green Knight.' Ned thought as he eyed the tavern's interior filled with members of his guard, drunk, merry, and well-fed...
That bottomless, shameless pit of Ser Haymitch was simultaneously embracing two promiscuous, easygoing damsels. He could not deny his men a well-deserved celebratory revelry after fighting on the front lines in the name of the North and the House that protected it.
"Another drink! Ahahah! TAVERNIER! HEY, TAVERNIER! Fill up the mugs and cups for everyone! Yes, Yes... hick... mark it in my name!" Shouted Ser Haymitch.
"Have you got the money, Ser? I ain't seen one copper coin here yet!" So shrieked the tavernkeeper, stopping the hand of a maid intent on getting two more full jugs of wine.
"How dare you! You are... burgh... I am a Knight and a War Hero in the service of the Noble, Wealthy and Powerful House Stark!!! What do you take me for? For a drunken... burph... hick!... A drunken two-bit ragamuffin, by any chance?! PEOPLE! HEY PEOPLE! Another toast!... TO LORD EDDARD STARK!" Invoked Haymitch at the top of his lungs, jumping up on the table.
"TO LORD STARK!!! YEEAAAAHH!!!" Shrieked in unison, over a hundred people raised their glasses.
*Sbam!* Eddard involuntarily slammed his open hand down on the table.
'That's enough, Ser! This is the fourth glass you've offered, or rather, that "I" offer to the whole tavern!' Howled the Quiet Wolf inwardly, holding back a growl.
Ned breathed deeply and regained his composure.
"Are you all right, my lord?" Ronan asked, the only golden light in that dark tunnel of misery, debt, non-refundable loans and unpaid bills.
That mathematical genius, sent by Lord Leobald Tallhart to help him prepare for his next face-to-face meeting with Lady Barbrey Dustin, had been assisting him enormously over the past few days in understanding and learning how to best expound the critical points in his favour for the approval of the loan of Four Million Three Hundred and Thirty Thousand gold coins to be applied for from the CEO and Majority Shareholder of the newly prosperous Never Winter Bank.
Ned could not delay any longer... Postponing the meeting with the Widow of Barrowton would have been interpreted as a clear sign of offence and provocation. New novel chapters are published on
If the King of the North had been forced to grovel at the feet of his rich and powerful sworn bishop, lest in future House Stark face the Titan and the Lighthouse with Winterfell's coffers and armoury empty, Ned, with effort and much spirit of sacrifice, would have swallowed his honour for the second time and done so...
Moreover, his Magical Hosts would arrive in White Harbor within less than a moon. Ned had many preparations to make... and so many noble and opulent people to entertain and feed...
Before he dismissed that boy and lay down on his bed, Ned needed to hear those candied and persuasive numbers.
Tomorrow would come, and he needed to at least give himself a more than deserved night's rest filled with dreams, plenty of gold, and hope.
"Please, Master of Coin Ronan... Before you take your leave, could you repeat House Stark's profit prospects on the Damascus Steel shield and armour trade?" He was well aware that this was the fourth time he had asked him the exact same question in two days, but Ned desperately needed it.
"Emm... of course, my Lord.
Suppose Grandmaster Mott can keep to the promised timetable, and Lord Duncan can advertise well in front of all the guests from Westeros and Essos who have currently confirmed participation. In that case, we estimate a minimum net profit in the first year of about eight hundred thousand gold dragons." Ronan replied with a slightly confused expression.
"Here... That would be thirty Galleys with a crew aboard of about three hundred people each, along with the thousand on the flagship... emm plus or minus six thousand nine hundred additional guests, Lord Stark."
End POV.
------------------------------------
POV: The Widow of Barrowton.
Lady's Private Solarium, Barrowhall.
The morning after, a Greedy Wolf was forced to take three more drops of a life-saving mixture before going to bed...
"Lord Eddard Stark, my lady." Wylla (Tysha) announced, bowing.
"Please have our welcome guest take a seat. Thank you, Wylla."
The Lady of Barrowton's personal attendant bowed, taking her to leave the room.
Finally, the moment promised and longed for by the Widow of the last descendant of House Dustin arrived.
Barbrey still felt some resentment for the trick played by that white-haired demon boy... but at least he had to admit that Bloody Snow was an ally of his word.
That boy could literally move Kings and Queens wherever and whenever his devious plots dictated.
Lady Dustin wouldn't have bet a penny on Tywin Lannister.
To move that rancorous stone giant and convince him to form an alliance with the Targaryens and the Martells.
Barbrey still did not understand why Duncan was so determined to go all-in with the man, nor why he wanted the Lannisters to be the North's second greatest allies.
Gerion Lannister, he would have understood, but what about Old Lion?
Did he want to trust the man who had treacherously struck the capital, ordered twelve thousand men to sack a city and go on a rampage, and forced his son to witness the **** of poor Tysha?
That boy... No, that 'Player' did not move pieces on the chessboard without a precise purpose or motive...
Bloody Snow was probably aware of missing information within his own ranks.
This was no time to think about the Lion of Casterly Rock... now Barbrey would have to focus all his attention on the Wolf of Winterfell.
A tall, strong, well-combed and well-dressed man entered the room, accompanied by the sound of closing doors...
Barbrey stood up from his desk in a tree-like position and gave the newcomer a warm and welcoming smile.
Her predatory nose caught the scent of fear and discomfort from the meek Wolf King who had just entered her nest unarmed.
A fragrance that made the remembrance and vengeful Widow of Barrowton's mouth water.
A slight twinge in her heart made her reason return quickly.
It was a warning sign from the mighty seal of druidic magic clinging to her heart.
That blood pact sealed with one of the most powerful ritual magics of the Sons of the Forest, which she and the other fourteen Green Knights had made at the Eye of the Gods, bound them together for the rest of their days.
She could neither betray nor fail to answer the call for help of her King to whom she had sworn enduring loyalty before the eyes of the Old Gods...
But that didn't mean Barbrey couldn't have a little fun.
The woman was well aware of what she could and could not do in front of this man.
Like, for example, the 'forgetfulness' of the servants in offering her guest bread, salt, and mead at the entrance to Barrowhall...
"Your Grace, what an honour...
Your faithful vassal, Barbrey Dustin, Lady of Barrowton, Shield of Saltspear, Protector of Barrowlands, Green Knight in the service of the Old Gods and the First Men, as well as humble Trustee of the new and modest Never Winter Bank, welcomes you, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Winter's First Defender and King In The North."
End Chapter.
-------------------
****If you have a chance and desire to support me.
Here's my Ko-fy link for you: /duncanrandargotpaladin
Thanks everyone and leave a comment! See you next time!****
Chapter 114: The Skinner Merchant & The Greedy Wolf ' Part IIPOV: Eddard Stark On the Northern Grid, Tomb Road, about ten miles from Barrowton. Year 289 A.C., the 29th day of the ninth moon. Two days after a young Lord began to try his hand at the art of dancing, singing, and poetry... The hour was late in the inn 'Hearth of the First King'. Named after the First King Dustin, who many historical sources assume was the First True King of the First Men. Nearly all of the four hundred and twelve guard and refreshment facilities in the Northern Network were implemented with taverns, inns, and even small brothels. After bonding, the Northern roads had long been the safest and quickest ways to travel. Four hundred and twelve minor customs points where a small duty had to be paid per person children under twelve excluded. One penny per ten miles per person. Three pennies for each horse Services of fodder, watering and stable included. One copper star for each pulling wagon Horses, shovels or mules included. Three copper stars for each merchant wagon If the wagon carries merchant goods with a value of one gold dragon or more. Security over people and property was guaranteed along the entire stretch of road by the House of the North to which the land belonged. Each guard point had twenty Northern soldiers on patrol at the blockade point or stretch of road. Ned Stark had recently asked the portentous genius of numbers how much profit he thought this customs point made. The comings and goings of people were really remarkable. "I cannot give a precise answer, my lord. However, I can tell you that the average daily profit on the entire Northern Network in the last quarter was one hundred and nine silver deer and four pennies. So, considering that your total customs points are sixteen... in tolls alone, minus a tenth to be paid to the Crown... So yes, House Stark should have earned an average of thirty-eight gold dragoons and nine silver moons per day. But there is a 0.8% margin of inaccuracy to consider, my lord. If it brightens your evening, Lord Stark, I and my other accounting associates estimate that by the second quarter after the start of summer, traffic will increase by at least 320%. The temperature will rise, the roads will need less maintenance; therefore, maintenance costs should drop by a minimum of 34%, increasing average net income." Replied Ronan, son of Tom, the master of coinage in direct service of Torrhen's Square. 'The Old Gods bless this boy. After Robert signs that damn Royal Bill, I swear by my Ancestors, I will personally ride to Torrhen's Square to make this "True Hero of the North" a Green Knight.' Ned thought as he eyed the tavern's interior filled with members of his guard, drunk, merry, and well-fed... That bottomless, shameless pit of Ser Haymitch was simultaneously embracing two promiscuous, easygoing damsels. He could not deny his men a well-deserved celebratory revelry after fighting on the front lines in the name of the North and the House that protected it. "Another drink! Ahahah! TAVERNIER! HEY, TAVERNIER! Fill up the mugs and cups for everyone! Yes, Yes... hick... mark it in my name!" Shouted Ser Haymitch. "Have you got the money, Ser? I ain't seen one copper coin here yet!" So shrieked the tavernkeeper, stopping the hand of a maid intent on getting two more full jugs of wine. "How dare you! You are... burgh... I am a Knight and a War Hero in the service of the Noble, Wealthy and Powerful House Stark!!! What do you take me for? For a drunken... burph... hick!... A drunken two-bit ragamuffin, by any chance?! PEOPLE! HEY PEOPLE! Another toast!... TO LORD EDDARD STARK!" Invoked Haymitch at the top of his lungs, jumping up on the table. "TO LORD STARK!!! YEEAAAAHH!!!" Shrieked in unison, over a hundred people raised their glasses. *Sbam!* Eddard involuntarily slammed his open hand down on the table. 'That's enough, Ser! This is the fourth glass you've offered, or rather, that "I" offer to the whole tavern!' Howled the Quiet Wolf inwardly, holding back a growl. Ned breathed deeply and regained his composure. "Are you all right, my lord?" Ronan asked, the only golden light in that dark tunnel of misery, debt, non-refundable loans and unpaid bills. That mathematical genius, sent by Lord Leobald Tallhart to help him prepare for his next face-to-face meeting with Lady Barbrey Dustin, had been assisting him enormously over the past few days in understanding and learning how to best expound the critical points in his favour for the approval of the loan of Four Million Three Hundred and Thirty Thousand gold coins to be applied for from the CEO and Majority Shareholder of the newly prosperous Never Winter Bank. Ned could not delay any longer... Postponing the meeting with the Widow of Barrowton would have been interpreted as a clear sign of offence and provocation. New novel chapters are published onIf the King of the North had been forced to grovel at the feet of his rich and powerful sworn bishop, lest in future House Stark face the Titan and the Lighthouse with Winterfell's coffers and armoury empty, Ned, with effort and much spirit of sacrifice, would have swallowed his honour for the second time and done so... Moreover, his Magical Hosts would arrive in White Harbor within less than a moon. Ned had many preparations to make... and so many noble and opulent people to entertain and feed... Before he dismissed that boy and lay down on his bed, Ned needed to hear those candied and persuasive numbers. Tomorrow would come, and he needed to at least give himself a more than deserved night's rest filled with dreams, plenty of gold, and hope. "Please, Master of Coin Ronan... Before you take your leave, could you repeat House Stark's profit prospects on the Damascus Steel shield and armour trade?" He was well aware that this was the fourth time he had asked him the exact same question in two days, but Ned desperately needed it. "Emm... of course, my Lord. Suppose Grandmaster Mott can keep to the promised timetable, and Lord Duncan can advertise well in front of all the guests from Westeros and Essos who have currently confirmed participation. In that case, we estimate a minimum net profit in the first year of about eight hundred thousand gold dragons." Ronan replied with a slightly confused expression. "Here... That would be thirty Galleys with a crew aboard of about three hundred people each, along with the thousand on the flagship... emm plus or minus six thousand nine hundred additional guests, Lord Stark." End POV. ------------------------------------ POV: The Widow of Barrowton. Lady's Private Solarium, Barrowhall. The morning after, a Greedy Wolf was forced to take three more drops of a life-saving mixture before going to bed... "Lord Eddard Stark, my lady." Wylla Tysha announced, bowing. "Please have our welcome guest take a seat. Thank you, Wylla." The Lady of Barrowton's personal attendant bowed, taking her to leave the room. Finally, the moment promised and longed for by the Widow of the last descendant of House Dustin arrived. Barbrey still felt some resentment for the trick played by that white-haired demon boy... but at least he had to admit that Bloody Snow was an ally of his word. That boy could literally move Kings and Queens wherever and whenever his devious plots dictated. Lady Dustin wouldn't have bet a penny on Tywin Lannister. To move that rancorous stone giant and convince him to form an alliance with the Targaryens and the Martells. Barbrey still did not understand why Duncan was so determined to go all-in with the man, nor why he wanted the Lannisters to be the North's second greatest allies. Gerion Lannister, he would have understood, but what about Old Lion? Did he want to trust the man who had treacherously struck the capital, ordered twelve thousand men to sack a city and go on a rampage, and forced his son to witness the **** of poor Tysha? That boy... No, that 'Player' did not move pieces on the chessboard without a precise purpose or motive... Bloody Snow was probably aware of missing information within his own ranks. This was no time to think about the Lion of Casterly Rock... now Barbrey would have to focus all his attention on the Wolf of Winterfell. A tall, strong, well-combed and well-dressed man entered the room, accompanied by the sound of closing doors... Barbrey stood up from his desk in a tree-like position and gave the newcomer a warm and welcoming smile. Her predatory nose caught the scent of fear and discomfort from the meek Wolf King who had just entered her nest unarmed. A fragrance that made the remembrance and vengeful Widow of Barrowton's mouth water. A slight twinge in her heart made her reason return quickly. It was a warning sign from the mighty seal of druidic magic clinging to her heart. That blood pact sealed with one of the most powerful ritual magics of the Sons of the Forest, which she and the other fourteen Green Knights had made at the Eye of the Gods, bound them together for the rest of their days. She could neither betray nor fail to answer the call for help of her King to whom she had sworn enduring loyalty before the eyes of the Old Gods... But that didn't mean Barbrey couldn't have a little fun. The woman was well aware of what she could and could not do in front of this man. Like, for example, the 'forgetfulness' of the servants in offering her guest bread, salt, and mead at the entrance to Barrowhall... "Your Grace, what an honour... Your faithful vassal, Barbrey Dustin, Lady of Barrowton, Shield of Saltspear, Protector of Barrowlands, Green Knight in the service of the Old Gods and the First Men, as well as humble Trustee of the new and modest Never Winter Bank, welcomes you, Eddard of House Stark, Lord of Winterfell, Winter's First Defender and King In The North." End Chapter. ------------------- ****If you have a chance and desire to support me. Here's my Ko-fy link for you: /duncanrandargotpaladin Thanks everyone and leave a comment! See you next time!****
