Chapter 128: The Night Watch & The Humble Customsman
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Chapter 128: The Night Watch & The Humble Customsman
POV: Jeor Mormont
Barrow Hall.
A couple of hours after the last noble guest of The Reach received his welcome...
It was almost dusk, and the darkness of night loomed over the Barrowlands.
The new 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch approached the front door further. The man was escorted by two other trusted members of the brotherhood in black, the first recruiter Yoren and the first attendant Bowen Marsh.
The long waiting line was coming to an end--very soon, after Lord Yohn Royce and his family had paid their respects to the Lord and Lady of Barrotown, it would be his turn.
The Old Bear would see his beloved boy again... It had been almost ten years since their last meeting.
Jeor had to lock himself in his private solarium for an entire day and night when, months ago, he received an invitation to his son Jorah's wedding from Maester Aemon. The newly elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch could not possibly allow his sworn brethren to see him cry...
The crushing victory at Bear Island, the revenge on House Greyjoy with the siege of Pyke, the iron naval control over all of Ice Bay, his family's newly acquired fame in trade, and now these nuptials... House Mormont would soon become one of the most respected and prosperous Houses in the North.
Many rumours affirmed Barrowton's newly acquired greatness, even almost on par with the Mouth of the North, White Arbor.
The good-for-nothing Old Man had left hovels of slush, pines and rocks to that boy, and, in less than ten years, his Jorah had turned the fortunes of the Isle around...
Jeor could not contemplate the figure of a prouder father. The poor boy, tormented by tragedy and suffering, deserved every good that this infamous world could offer.
"Yonh Royce's brat, William, it seems to me, has been watching us for a while now with sparkling sparks in his eyes. Perhaps I could sing a ditty or two to the boy-who knows, maybe he might join the fraternity someday. What do you think, Lord Commander?" Jeor awoke from his inappropriate emotional memories.
"Yonh Royce's third son-in-law -- go ahead, Yoren, but mind you, I don't want any more tricks or puns like the ones you sang to poor Edd Tollet." The admonition was more than fair.
Poor Edd, recently nicknamed 'Dolorous Edd' by his brethren, had been recruited into the Night's Watch by Yoren during the last expedition to the Valley. The recruiter had affably sung to him about how women could not resist a man in a black uniform, cunningly leaving out the vow of celibacy that the oath imposed.
"Ahaha! If our noble glory-seeking boy ignored his chained master's history lessons, the fault is not mine." Yoren resumed chewing his liquorice stick.
"But if House Tollet did not even have enough coin to afford to buy him a sword. Let alone the service of a maester." Bowen retorted in poor Edd's defence.
"Well, not that I'm not saying I was aware of his unfortunate past, but-" The Lord stopped the debate.
"Enough, you two. This is no time for showmanship. It's our turn." House Royce had entered the manor.
The representative trio climbed the last step up the hill, stepping through the oak main door reinforced in cold-hardened iron plates. Entries more than three feet thick with faded markings of ancient bronze runes in the language of the First Men, which, in the distant past, had prevented access to many armies of the Kings of Winter in the Epic Thousand Years' War.
The future Lord of that ancient manor was standing there, ready to greet him in all his composure deeply inculcated by his father by slapping the back of his head.
Beside it stood his beautiful youngest bride, one of the most feared and respected women in the North, the soon-to-be Ex-Widow-of-Barrowton whose nickname was increasingly being overshadowed by a newer one: 'The Frosty Spice Queen,' Lady Barbrey Dustin.
"Lord Commander and gallant sworn men of the brotherhood, it is an honour and a joy for Barrowhall to welcome members of the Night's Watch. I, Lady Barbrey Dustin and my groom, Jorah Mormont, welcome you, Heroes." First, the host performed a perfect Lady bow. Then, Jeor Mormont elegantly gathered and kissed his daughter-in-law's hand.
"Lady Barbrey, 'Lord Jorah,' the honour is ours alone. The Night's Watch is grateful for the more than appreciated invitation to this glorious and happy event.
In the past, I had the good fortune and honour to fight alongside your grandfather, Lord Wembel Ryswell, one of the finest men I have ever met. And today, I am blessed to receive a greater honour by knowing you, my lady, the one who inherited that man's highest virtues and merits."
At the time of the famous War of the Ninepenny Kings, Wembel Ryswell's name was glorified by King Jaehaerys II himself. Lord Ryswell underscored the story by sacrificing himself on the field while holding back the enemy's heavy cavalry of less than half his men.
Jeor Mormont, Wembel Ryswell and Brynden Tully, 'The Black Fish,' fought in various battles, turning their names into legends.
"You honour me, Barrowton and House Ryswell. You will be our welcome guests for as long as you wish, my lord."
*****
A couple of minutes of formality and various introductions.
"Brother Yoren will be more than free to perform his duties throughout our domains for as long as he wishes. Only the Old Gods know how necessary it is for strong new valiant arms to serve your good order.
As for you, honourable First Attendant, Bowen Marsh, I am more than certain that our storehouses will overflow with many provisions given the 'sparse' attendance at these festivities. Therefore, it will be more your help than ours to allow you to store in the iceboxes of Castle Black many provisions that would go rotten in our overflowing pantries. I will put you in touch with my Chief Steward Edmund at once." Promulgated Barbrey in a dignified yet charitable manner.
"Thank you, my lady. I promise I will try to cause as little disturbance as possible." Yoren bowed, retreating one step immediately after finishing.
"Thank you, my lady. The Brotherhood in Black will always be grateful for eternity to all the Lords and Ladies of Barrowton." Bowen also withdrew.
Jorah and Jeor had not yet been able to interact verbally even once. And perhaps it was for the best...
He was no longer a father, no longer owned lands, no longer had sisters, only brethren. He was the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the Wall...
Only loving glances communicated what could not be said, and they were more than enough.
"Tell me, my lord, have you encountered adversity on your journey?" Asked the lady gently.
"'Unfortunately,' none, my lady. Thank you for asking. We set out from Castle Black with an armed escort of ninety good Rangers and about ten attendants. We hoped on the way to rout some vile horde of the Wildlings responsible for all those atrocities, but those cowardly rats kept well clear of the fight...
Later, in the New Gift, we gathered on the last stretch following Lord Benjen Stark and the Clan Chiefs on their way to the celebrations." In the past month, the sword brutally passed more than three villages. Daughters kidnapped, sons tortured and roasted in bonfires, and all the remaining indications of the horrific barbarities all pointed to the work of the vilest Cannibal Clans of the Wildlings.
Petyr chose not to lower his defences too much.
"You honour me with too much credit, Lady Barbrey. The achievements between Gulltown and the Northern Houses have been a fruit plucked through the efforts of all of us humble men of commerce. Your Chief Attendant Edmure is at least as deserving of such flattery as I am." Baelish replied, bowing his head. Then Baelish cast a little bit...
"My Lady... As you said, I am only a humble Customs Officer, so I fear I have not brought gifts worthy of such an event. However... a slightly alarming piece of information has recently reached my ears that I hope will benefit and better prepare House Dustin and House Mormont..." Baelish waited, and the answer he sought came.
"Oh, really? Lord Baelish...you know how to arouse the interest of a poor lady as yielding to court gossip as I am; please don't hold back, my lord, please satisfy our curiosity!" replied Barbrey.
"Well, my lady, as you well know, the royal delegation has just passed through the gates of your beautiful city. Presently the King and Queen are proceeding at a modestly slow pace in response to the warm welcome the populace is bestowing upon them. However, as you mentioned earlier, a' rumour' has reached my ears...
It seems that Queen Cersei was rather annoyed, to the point of bestowing a slight disappointment on the King himself, that you, my noble lady and your betrothed did not directly bring your homage and welcome to the entrance of the city itself...
I don't know if the rumours are true, but from what is said in the ports of Gulltown, Queen Cersei Lannister is haughty above all talk. I hope these rumours are only the result of common prevalent slurs. Otherwise... I fear that the welcome, carefully prepared by you for our majesties, may be ill-appreciated." Baelish utterly defensively and vacantly elided the whisper his spy delivered to him less than a few minutes earlier.
From how Lady Barbrey would react, Petyr would know whether she was really deserving of the reputation as a shrewd Northern player that his sources suspected she was...
The First Rule of the Great Game was to figure out 'Who' really were the players and the pawns on the chessboard.
The Second Rule of the Great Game was to determine who among the discovered players was the prey and the predator. And if in a short time the prey could not be found-then, it meant that the prey was you.
'Pawn, Prey or Predator?" wondered Petyr instantly within himself. By now, that question had become a routine toward anyone he met in person for the first time.
Barbrey put her hand on her chest with an astonished, anxiety-filled expression. The woman exchanged a worried glance with Lord Jorah Mormont, who remained steadfast and neutral to the woman's visual prompts.
"Lord Baelish, I-I do not know how to repay this kindness of yours. I I had no idea that thank you. Thank you so much, my lord." The act seemed convincing enough.
"You're welcome, my lady, please... There is no need to attach too much importance to a 'likely' false rumour. I'm afraid I can't guarantee that, on this little piece of information..."
'Let it be a possible pawn?" thought Baelish with discreet hints of doubt.
Was it really possible that all the information gathered was actually an exaggeration?
"No, milord. It is only fair that the gesture of courtesy be returned.
Let's see-ah, of course. What better way to repay a valuable piece of information than with one that will pique your interest!
But, milord, please. Just between us." She pleaded with embarrassment.
"Of course, milady. You have my word of honour." Elegantly replied the intrigued young player.
The Barrowton Widow's face lit up with renewed confidence toward her promising new friend.
"I don't know if you're aware of it, but it seems that the Crown is desperate for sources of gold," whispered the woman naively as if she were revealing a lovers' gossip among ladies.
It was no secret; all the houses in the land of the Crown knew about it. But then the lady continued to speak...
"It seems that Lord Gyles Rosby, the current Master of Coin, had requested a loan of over one million two hundred thousand gold dragons from the Iron Bank, but that 'mysteriously' the King's emissaries withdrew the loan negotiations soon after Pyke's fall...
It is not yet clear exactly how and where Robert managed to make up for such an exorbitant gap in the pockets of the realm. Still, a mysterious, well-drained, and armed Prince Stannis naval contingent inexplicably docked in White Arbor two moons ago.
I wonder if the Crown may have found a possible backer right here in the North? Why did the Grand Royal Fleet fragment into smaller contingents on the way back? And why set sail on a new moon night? To conceal a large cargo that could not be jeopardized on a single voyage?" Petyr was disarmed. He was not aware of any of this invaluable information!
But the time for amazement had not yet come; the song was not over...
"Of course, this Lord Gyles doesn't seem quite suited to handle the King's ravenous appetites. Rumour has it that the Queen is spurring Robert to organize an event for Prince Joffrey's fifth name-day with prizes and festivities bigger than my wedding. But how will the Crown afford such pageantry when it already burned through the nine million eight hundred and thirty-seven thousand gold dragons found in the royal coffers of Aerys barely six years ago?
The Small Council could really use a new Master of Coinage...
A younger, enterprising man with a brilliant mind who has sound new ideas, business wit, and above all, who does not harass the other council members with a cough with every word spoken... mmm... Ah! A man like you, my lord! Yes! You would be perfect for that position!" Young Petyr's blood froze...
"Of course, it must be said that you should still show a little more accomplishment for that position; after all, you are still invisible in the eyes of the Vale and the Kingdom... mmm...
Might I advise you to nurture your warm childhood relations with Lady Lysa Arryn? Caution, my lord, try not to get too close to Lady Catelyn during your stay in Barrowton. It has come to my attention that Lysa has paid some minor knights and squires in the Vale, seeking the favour of the Wife of the Hand of the King, to keep an eye on you...
She seems to harbor an inexplicable jealousy toward her sister, but I'm afraid I don't know why. Mh, Mh, Mh!"
Petyr's eyes could no longer hold a candle to that look! The gaze of the Abominable Witch who, in a short, terrifying, and well-researched song, had just prophesied his past, present, and future plans! The pressure was too much...
The still shocked, young promising customs officer sought solace in the impassive figure at the monster's side.
The clear message of Jorah Mormont's silent expression was:
[Why are you looking at me, you fool? You were the one who teased the Beast.]
'Predator! She is definitely a Predator! And a big, ravenous one at that!'
*****
End Chapter.
______________
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Chapter 128: The Night Watch & The Humble Customsman
POV: Jeor Mormont
Barrow Hall.
A couple of hours after the last noble guest of The Reach received his welcome...
It was almost dusk, and the darkness of night loomed over the Barrowlands.
The new 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch approached the front door further. The man was escorted by two other trusted members of the brotherhood in black, the first recruiter Yoren and the first attendant Bowen Marsh.
The long waiting line was coming to an end--very soon, after Lord Yohn Royce and his family had paid their respects to the Lord and Lady of Barrotown, it would be his turn.
The Old Bear would see his beloved boy again... It had been almost ten years since their last meeting.
Jeor had to lock himself in his private solarium for an entire day and night when, months ago, he received an invitation to his son Jorah's wedding from Maester Aemon. The newly elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch could not possibly allow his sworn brethren to see him cry...
The crushing victory at Bear Island, the revenge on House Greyjoy with the siege of Pyke, the iron naval control over all of Ice Bay, his family's newly acquired fame in trade, and now these nuptials... House Mormont would soon become one of the most respected and prosperous Houses in the North.
Many rumours affirmed Barrowton's newly acquired greatness, even almost on par with the Mouth of the North, White Arbor.
The good-for-nothing Old Man had left hovels of slush, pines and rocks to that boy, and, in less than ten years, his Jorah had turned the fortunes of the Isle around...
Jeor could not contemplate the figure of a prouder father. The poor boy, tormented by tragedy and suffering, deserved every good that this infamous world could offer.
"Yonh Royce's brat, William, it seems to me, has been watching us for a while now with sparkling sparks in his eyes. Perhaps I could sing a ditty or two to the boy-who knows, maybe he might join the fraternity someday. What do you think, Lord Commander?" Jeor awoke from his inappropriate emotional memories.
"Yonh Royce's third son-in-law -- go ahead, Yoren, but mind you, I don't want any more tricks or puns like the ones you sang to poor Edd Tollet." The admonition was more than fair.
Poor Edd, recently nicknamed 'Dolorous Edd' by his brethren, had been recruited into the Night's Watch by Yoren during the last expedition to the Valley. The recruiter had affably sung to him about how women could not resist a man in a black uniform, cunningly leaving out the vow of celibacy that the oath imposed.
"Ahaha! If our noble glory-seeking boy ignored his chained master's history lessons, the fault is not mine." Yoren resumed chewing his liquorice stick.
"But if House Tollet did not even have enough coin to afford to buy him a sword. Let alone the service of a maester." Bowen retorted in poor Edd's defence.
"Well, not that I'm not saying I was aware of his unfortunate past, but-" The Lord stopped the debate.
"Enough, you two. This is no time for showmanship. It's our turn." House Royce had entered the manor.
The representative trio climbed the last step up the hill, stepping through the oak main door reinforced in cold-hardened iron plates. Entries more than three feet thick with faded markings of ancient bronze runes in the language of the First Men, which, in the distant past, had prevented access to many armies of the Kings of Winter in the Epic Thousand Years' War.
The future Lord of that ancient manor was standing there, ready to greet him in all his composure deeply inculcated by his father by slapping the back of his head.
Beside it stood his beautiful youngest bride, one of the most feared and respected women in the North, the soon-to-be Ex-Widow-of-Barrowton whose nickname was increasingly being overshadowed by a newer one: 'The Frosty Spice Queen,' Lady Barbrey Dustin.
"Lord Commander and gallant sworn men of the brotherhood, it is an honour and a joy for Barrowhall to welcome members of the Night's Watch. I, Lady Barbrey Dustin and my groom, Jorah Mormont, welcome you, Heroes." First, the host performed a perfect Lady bow. Then, Jeor Mormont elegantly gathered and kissed his daughter-in-law's hand.
"Lady Barbrey, 'Lord Jorah,' the honour is ours alone. The Night's Watch is grateful for the more than appreciated invitation to this glorious and happy event.
In the past, I had the good fortune and honour to fight alongside your grandfather, Lord Wembel Ryswell, one of the finest men I have ever met. And today, I am blessed to receive a greater honour by knowing you, my lady, the one who inherited that man's highest virtues and merits."
At the time of the famous War of the Ninepenny Kings, Wembel Ryswell's name was glorified by King Jaehaerys II himself. Lord Ryswell underscored the story by sacrificing himself on the field while holding back the enemy's heavy cavalry of less than half his men.
Jeor Mormont, Wembel Ryswell and Brynden Tully, 'The Black Fish,' fought in various battles, turning their names into legends.
"You honour me, Barrowton and House Ryswell. You will be our welcome guests for as long as you wish, my lord."
*****
A couple of minutes of formality and various introductions.
"Brother Yoren will be more than free to perform his duties throughout our domains for as long as he wishes. Only the Old Gods know how necessary it is for strong new valiant arms to serve your good order.
As for you, honourable First Attendant, Bowen Marsh, I am more than certain that our storehouses will overflow with many provisions given the 'sparse' attendance at these festivities. Therefore, it will be more your help than ours to allow you to store in the iceboxes of Castle Black many provisions that would go rotten in our overflowing pantries. I will put you in touch with my Chief Steward Edmund at once." Promulgated Barbrey in a dignified yet charitable manner.
"Thank you, my lady. I promise I will try to cause as little disturbance as possible." Yoren bowed, retreating one step immediately after finishing.
"Thank you, my lady. The Brotherhood in Black will always be grateful for eternity to all the Lords and Ladies of Barrowton." Bowen also withdrew.
Jorah and Jeor had not yet been able to interact verbally even once. And perhaps it was for the best...
He was no longer a father, no longer owned lands, no longer had sisters, only brethren. He was the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the Wall...
Only loving glances communicated what could not be said, and they were more than enough.
"Tell me, my lord, have you encountered adversity on your journey?" Asked the lady gently.
"'Unfortunately,' none, my lady. Thank you for asking. We set out from Castle Black with an armed escort of ninety good Rangers and about ten attendants. We hoped on the way to rout some vile horde of the Wildlings responsible for all those atrocities, but those cowardly rats kept well clear of the fight...
Later, in the New Gift, we gathered on the last stretch following Lord Benjen Stark and the Clan Chiefs on their way to the celebrations." In the past month, the sword brutally passed more than three villages. Daughters kidnapped, sons tortured and roasted in bonfires, and all the remaining indications of the horrific barbarities all pointed to the work of the vilest Cannibal Clans of the Wildlings.
Petyr chose not to lower his defences too much.
"You honour me with too much credit, Lady Barbrey. The achievements between Gulltown and the Northern Houses have been a fruit plucked through the efforts of all of us humble men of commerce. Your Chief Attendant Edmure is at least as deserving of such flattery as I am." Baelish replied, bowing his head. Then Baelish cast a little bit...
"My Lady... As you said, I am only a humble Customs Officer, so I fear I have not brought gifts worthy of such an event. However... a slightly alarming piece of information has recently reached my ears that I hope will benefit and better prepare House Dustin and House Mormont..." Baelish waited, and the answer he sought came.
"Oh, really? Lord Baelish...you know how to arouse the interest of a poor lady as yielding to court gossip as I am; please don't hold back, my lord, please satisfy our curiosity!" replied Barbrey.
"Well, my lady, as you well know, the royal delegation has just passed through the gates of your beautiful city. Presently the King and Queen are proceeding at a modestly slow pace in response to the warm welcome the populace is bestowing upon them. However, as you mentioned earlier, a' rumour' has reached my ears...
It seems that Queen Cersei was rather annoyed, to the point of bestowing a slight disappointment on the King himself, that you, my noble lady and your betrothed did not directly bring your homage and welcome to the entrance of the city itself...
I don't know if the rumours are true, but from what is said in the ports of Gulltown, Queen Cersei Lannister is haughty above all talk. I hope these rumours are only the result of common prevalent slurs. Otherwise... I fear that the welcome, carefully prepared by you for our majesties, may be ill-appreciated." Baelish utterly defensively and vacantly elided the whisper his spy delivered to him less than a few minutes earlier.
From how Lady Barbrey would react, Petyr would know whether she was really deserving of the reputation as a shrewd Northern player that his sources suspected she was...
The First Rule of the Great Game was to figure out 'Who' really were the players and the pawns on the chessboard.
The Second Rule of the Great Game was to determine who among the discovered players was the prey and the predator. And if in a short time the prey could not be found-then, it meant that the prey was you.
'Pawn, Prey or Predator?" wondered Petyr instantly within himself. By now, that question had become a routine toward anyone he met in person for the first time.
Barbrey put her hand on her chest with an astonished, anxiety-filled expression. The woman exchanged a worried glance with Lord Jorah Mormont, who remained steadfast and neutral to the woman's visual prompts.
"Lord Baelish, I-I do not know how to repay this kindness of yours. I I had no idea that thank you. Thank you so much, my lord." The act seemed convincing enough.
"You're welcome, my lady, please... There is no need to attach too much importance to a 'likely' false rumour. I'm afraid I can't guarantee that, on this little piece of information..."
'Let it be a possible pawn?" thought Baelish with discreet hints of doubt.
Was it really possible that all the information gathered was actually an exaggeration?
"No, milord. It is only fair that the gesture of courtesy be returned.
Let's see-ah, of course. What better way to repay a valuable piece of information than with one that will pique your interest!
But, milord, please. Just between us." She pleaded with embarrassment.
"Of course, milady. You have my word of honour." Elegantly replied the intrigued young player.
The Barrowton Widow's face lit up with renewed confidence toward her promising new friend.
"I don't know if you're aware of it, but it seems that the Crown is desperate for sources of gold," whispered the woman naively as if she were revealing a lovers' gossip among ladies.
It was no secret; all the houses in the land of the Crown knew about it. But then the lady continued to speak...
"It seems that Lord Gyles Rosby, the current Master of Coin, had requested a loan of over one million two hundred thousand gold dragons from the Iron Bank, but that 'mysteriously' the King's emissaries withdrew the loan negotiations soon after Pyke's fall...
It is not yet clear exactly how and where Robert managed to make up for such an exorbitant gap in the pockets of the realm. Still, a mysterious, well-drained, and armed Prince Stannis naval contingent inexplicably docked in White Arbor two moons ago.
I wonder if the Crown may have found a possible backer right here in the North? Why did the Grand Royal Fleet fragment into smaller contingents on the way back? And why set sail on a new moon night? To conceal a large cargo that could not be jeopardized on a single voyage?" Petyr was disarmed. He was not aware of any of this invaluable information!
But the time for amazement had not yet come; the song was not over...
"Of course, this Lord Gyles doesn't seem quite suited to handle the King's ravenous appetites. Rumour has it that the Queen is spurring Robert to organize an event for Prince Joffrey's fifth name-day with prizes and festivities bigger than my wedding. But how will the Crown afford such pageantry when it already burned through the nine million eight hundred and thirty-seven thousand gold dragons found in the royal coffers of Aerys barely six years ago?
The Small Council could really use a new Master of Coinage...
A younger, enterprising man with a brilliant mind who has sound new ideas, business wit, and above all, who does not harass the other council members with a cough with every word spoken... mmm... Ah! A man like you, my lord! Yes! You would be perfect for that position!" Young Petyr's blood froze...
"Of course, it must be said that you should still show a little more accomplishment for that position; after all, you are still invisible in the eyes of the Vale and the Kingdom... mmm...
Might I advise you to nurture your warm childhood relations with Lady Lysa Arryn? Caution, my lord, try not to get too close to Lady Catelyn during your stay in Barrowton. It has come to my attention that Lysa has paid some minor knights and squires in the Vale, seeking the favour of the Wife of the Hand of the King, to keep an eye on you...
She seems to harbor an inexplicable jealousy toward her sister, but I'm afraid I don't know why. Mh, Mh, Mh!"
Petyr's eyes could no longer hold a candle to that look! The gaze of the Abominable Witch who, in a short, terrifying, and well-researched song, had just prophesied his past, present, and future plans! The pressure was too much...
The still shocked, young promising customs officer sought solace in the impassive figure at the monster's side.
The clear message of Jorah Mormont's silent expression was:
[Why are you looking at me, you fool? You were the one who teased the Beast.]
'Predator! She is definitely a Predator! And a big, ravenous one at that!'
*****
End Chapter.
______________
Chapter 128: The Night Watch & The Humble CustomsmanPOV: Jeor Mormont Barrow Hall. A couple of hours after the last noble guest of The Reach received his welcome... It was almost dusk, and the darkness of night loomed over the Barrowlands. The new 997th Lord Commander of the Night's Watch approached the front door further. The man was escorted by two other trusted members of the brotherhood in black, the first recruiter Yoren and the first attendant Bowen Marsh. The long waiting line was coming to an end--very soon, after Lord Yohn Royce and his family had paid their respects to the Lord and Lady of Barrotown, it would be his turn. The Old Bear would see his beloved boy again... It had been almost ten years since their last meeting. Jeor had to lock himself in his private solarium for an entire day and night when, months ago, he received an invitation to his son Jorah's wedding from Maester Aemon. The newly elected Lord Commander of the Night's Watch could not possibly allow his sworn brethren to see him cry... The crushing victory at Bear Island, the revenge on House Greyjoy with the siege of Pyke, the iron naval control over all of Ice Bay, his family's newly acquired fame in trade, and now these nuptials... House Mormont would soon become one of the most respected and prosperous Houses in the North. Many rumours affirmed Barrowton's newly acquired greatness, even almost on par with the Mouth of the North, White Arbor. The good-for-nothing Old Man had left hovels of slush, pines and rocks to that boy, and, in less than ten years, his Jorah had turned the fortunes of the Isle around... Jeor could not contemplate the figure of a prouder father. The poor boy, tormented by tragedy and suffering, deserved every good that this infamous world could offer. "Yonh Royce's brat, William, it seems to me, has been watching us for a while now with sparkling sparks in his eyes. Perhaps I could sing a ditty or two to the boy-who knows, maybe he might join the fraternity someday. What do you think, Lord Commander?" Jeor awoke from his inappropriate emotional memories. "Yonh Royce's third son-in-law -- go ahead, Yoren, but mind you, I don't want any more tricks or puns like the ones you sang to poor Edd Tollet." The admonition was more than fair. Poor Edd, recently nicknamed 'Dolorous Edd' by his brethren, had been recruited into the Night's Watch by Yoren during the last expedition to the Valley. The recruiter had affably sung to him about how women could not resist a man in a black uniform, cunningly leaving out the vow of celibacy that the oath imposed. "Ahaha! If our noble glory-seeking boy ignored his chained master's history lessons, the fault is not mine." Yoren resumed chewing his liquorice stick. "But if House Tollet did not even have enough coin to afford to buy him a sword. Let alone the service of a maester." Bowen retorted in poor Edd's defence. "Well, not that I'm not saying I was aware of his unfortunate past, but-" The Lord stopped the debate. "Enough, you two. This is no time for showmanship. It's our turn." House Royce had entered the manor. The representative trio climbed the last step up the hill, stepping through the oak main door reinforced in cold-hardened iron plates. Entries more than three feet thick with faded markings of ancient bronze runes in the language of the First Men, which, in the distant past, had prevented access to many armies of the Kings of Winter in the Epic Thousand Years' War. The future Lord of that ancient manor was standing there, ready to greet him in all his composure deeply inculcated by his father by slapping the back of his head. Beside it stood his beautiful youngest bride, one of the most feared and respected women in the North, the soon-to-be Ex-Widow-of-Barrowton whose nickname was increasingly being overshadowed by a newer one: 'The Frosty Spice Queen,' Lady Barbrey Dustin. "Lord Commander and gallant sworn men of the brotherhood, it is an honour and a joy for Barrowhall to welcome members of the Night's Watch. I, Lady Barbrey Dustin and my groom, Jorah Mormont, welcome you, Heroes." First, the host performed a perfect Lady bow. Then, Jeor Mormont elegantly gathered and kissed his daughter-in-law's hand. "Lady Barbrey, 'Lord Jorah,' the honour is ours alone. The Night's Watch is grateful for the more than appreciated invitation to this glorious and happy event. In the past, I had the good fortune and honour to fight alongside your grandfather, Lord Wembel Ryswell, one of the finest men I have ever met. And today, I am blessed to receive a greater honour by knowing you, my lady, the one who inherited that man's highest virtues and merits." At the time of the famous War of the Ninepenny Kings, Wembel Ryswell's name was glorified by King Jaehaerys II himself. Lord Ryswell underscored the story by sacrificing himself on the field while holding back the enemy's heavy cavalry of less than half his men. Jeor Mormont, Wembel Ryswell and Brynden Tully, 'The Black Fish,' fought in various battles, turning their names into legends. "You honour me, Barrowton and House Ryswell. You will be our welcome guests for as long as you wish, my lord." ***** A couple of minutes of formality and various introductions. "Brother Yoren will be more than free to perform his duties throughout our domains for as long as he wishes. Only the Old Gods know how necessary it is for strong new valiant arms to serve your good order. As for you, honourable First Attendant, Bowen Marsh, I am more than certain that our storehouses will overflow with many provisions given the 'sparse' attendance at these festivities. Therefore, it will be more your help than ours to allow you to store in the iceboxes of Castle Black many provisions that would go rotten in our overflowing pantries. I will put you in touch with my Chief Steward Edmund at once." Promulgated Barbrey in a dignified yet charitable manner. "Thank you, my lady. I promise I will try to cause as little disturbance as possible." Yoren bowed, retreating one step immediately after finishing. "Thank you, my lady. The Brotherhood in Black will always be grateful for eternity to all the Lords and Ladies of Barrowton." Bowen also withdrew. Jorah and Jeor had not yet been able to interact verbally even once. And perhaps it was for the best... He was no longer a father, no longer owned lands, no longer had sisters, only brethren. He was the sword in the darkness, the watcher on the Wall... Only loving glances communicated what could not be said, and they were more than enough. "Tell me, my lord, have you encountered adversity on your journey?" Asked the lady gently. "'Unfortunately,' none, my lady. Thank you for asking. We set out from Castle Black with an armed escort of ninety good Rangers and about ten attendants. We hoped on the way to rout some vile horde of the Wildlings responsible for all those atrocities, but those cowardly rats kept well clear of the fight... Later, in the New Gift, we gathered on the last stretch following Lord Benjen Stark and the Clan Chiefs on their way to the celebrations." In the past month, the sword brutally passed more than three villages. Daughters kidnapped, sons tortured and roasted in bonfires, and all the remaining indications of the horrific barbarities all pointed to the work of the vilest Cannibal Clans of the Wildlings. Petyr chose not to lower his defences too much. "You honour me with too much credit, Lady Barbrey. The achievements between Gulltown and the Northern Houses have been a fruit plucked through the efforts of all of us humble men of commerce. Your Chief Attendant Edmure is at least as deserving of such flattery as I am." Baelish replied, bowing his head. Then Baelish cast a little bit... "My Lady... As you said, I am only a humble Customs Officer, so I fear I have not brought gifts worthy of such an event. However... a slightly alarming piece of information has recently reached my ears that I hope will benefit and better prepare House Dustin and House Mormont..." Baelish waited, and the answer he sought came. "Oh, really? Lord Baelish...you know how to arouse the interest of a poor lady as yielding to court gossip as I am; please don't hold back, my lord, please satisfy our curiosity!" replied Barbrey. "Well, my lady, as you well know, the royal delegation has just passed through the gates of your beautiful city. Presently the King and Queen are proceeding at a modestly slow pace in response to the warm welcome the populace is bestowing upon them. However, as you mentioned earlier, a' rumour' has reached my ears... It seems that Queen Cersei was rather annoyed, to the point of bestowing a slight disappointment on the King himself, that you, my noble lady and your betrothed did not directly bring your homage and welcome to the entrance of the city itself... I don't know if the rumours are true, but from what is said in the ports of Gulltown, Queen Cersei Lannister is haughty above all talk. I hope these rumours are only the result of common prevalent slurs. Otherwise... I fear that the welcome, carefully prepared by you for our majesties, may be ill-appreciated." Baelish utterly defensively and vacantly elided the whisper his spy delivered to him less than a few minutes earlier. From how Lady Barbrey would react, Petyr would know whether she was really deserving of the reputation as a shrewd Northern player that his sources suspected she was... The First Rule of the Great Game was to figure out 'Who' really were the players and the pawns on the chessboard. The Second Rule of the Great Game was to determine who among the discovered players was the prey and the predator. And if in a short time the prey could not be found-then, it meant that the prey was you. 'Pawn, Prey or Predator?" wondered Petyr instantly within himself. By now, that question had become a routine toward anyone he met in person for the first time. Barbrey put her hand on her chest with an astonished, anxiety-filled expression. The woman exchanged a worried glance with Lord Jorah Mormont, who remained steadfast and neutral to the woman's visual prompts. "Lord Baelish, I-I do not know how to repay this kindness of yours. I I had no idea that thank you. Thank you so much, my lord." The act seemed convincing enough. "You're welcome, my lady, please... There is no need to attach too much importance to a 'likely' false rumour. I'm afraid I can't guarantee that, on this little piece of information..." 'Let it be a possible pawn?" thought Baelish with discreet hints of doubt. Was it really possible that all the information gathered was actually an exaggeration? "No, milord. It is only fair that the gesture of courtesy be returned. Let's see-ah, of course. What better way to repay a valuable piece of information than with one that will pique your interest! But, milord, please. Just between us." She pleaded with embarrassment. "Of course, milady. You have my word of honour." Elegantly replied the intrigued young player. The Barrowton Widow's face lit up with renewed confidence toward her promising new friend. "I don't know if you're aware of it, but it seems that the Crown is desperate for sources of gold," whispered the woman naively as if she were revealing a lovers' gossip among ladies. It was no secret; all the houses in the land of the Crown knew about it. But then the lady continued to speak... "It seems that Lord Gyles Rosby, the current Master of Coin, had requested a loan of over one million two hundred thousand gold dragons from the Iron Bank, but that 'mysteriously' the King's emissaries withdrew the loan negotiations soon after Pyke's fall... It is not yet clear exactly how and where Robert managed to make up for such an exorbitant gap in the pockets of the realm. Still, a mysterious, well-drained, and armed Prince Stannis naval contingent inexplicably docked in White Arbor two moons ago. I wonder if the Crown may have found a possible backer right here in the North? Why did the Grand Royal Fleet fragment into smaller contingents on the way back? And why set sail on a new moon night? To conceal a large cargo that could not be jeopardized on a single voyage?" Petyr was disarmed. He was not aware of any of this invaluable information! But the time for amazement had not yet come; the song was not over... "Of course, this Lord Gyles doesn't seem quite suited to handle the King's ravenous appetites. Rumour has it that the Queen is spurring Robert to organize an event for Prince Joffrey's fifth name-day with prizes and festivities bigger than my wedding. But how will the Crown afford such pageantry when it already burned through the nine million eight hundred and thirty-seven thousand gold dragons found in the royal coffers of Aerys barely six years ago? The Small Council could really use a new Master of Coinage... A younger, enterprising man with a brilliant mind who has sound new ideas, business wit, and above all, who does not harass the other council members with a cough with every word spoken... mmm... Ah! A man like you, my lord! Yes! You would be perfect for that position!" Young Petyr's blood froze... "Of course, it must be said that you should still show a little more accomplishment for that position; after all, you are still invisible in the eyes of the Vale and the Kingdom... mmm... Might I advise you to nurture your warm childhood relations with Lady Lysa Arryn? Caution, my lord, try not to get too close to Lady Catelyn during your stay in Barrowton. It has come to my attention that Lysa has paid some minor knights and squires in the Vale, seeking the favour of the Wife of the Hand of the King, to keep an eye on you... She seems to harbor an inexplicable jealousy toward her sister, but I'm afraid I don't know why. Mh, Mh, Mh!" Petyr's eyes could no longer hold a candle to that look! The gaze of the Abominable Witch who, in a short, terrifying, and well-researched song, had just prophesied his past, present, and future plans! The pressure was too much... The still shocked, young promising customs officer sought solace in the impassive figure at the monster's side. The clear message of Jorah Mormont's silent expression was: Why are you looking at me, you fool? You were the one who teased the Beast. 'Predator! She is definitely a Predator! And a big, ravenous one at that!' ***** End Chapter. ______________
