Book 2, Chapter 4 - The Lamb

[Seek help from Lady Blackwood]
[Promise Harndon that you will follow his orders]

[Seek help from Lord Blackwood]
[Promise Harndon that you will follow his orders]

[Seek help from Lady Blackwood] Yeah I feel bad about arresting a guy with dementia. Real bad. Lady Blackwood might be upset with us but I think this is our best chance.

[Tell him to get lost] Come on now, we don't want to cooperate with this joker. He sucks.

Maybe because I finally finished Red Dead Redemption II fairly recently (little over a month ago), but all these quotes scream MICAH BELL and his influence on Dutch van der Linde. Almost certainly not intentional because this type of character is not new (see Grima Wormtongue), still, it I thought of it anyway.

Gravven is cool. Very cool, one of my favorites. Also, the chapter title is interesting. Clearly, Kyra was a lamb...but I suspect there's another lamb to appear. Interesting.

Also, new chapter. YAY!
 

Ah, it's not exactly intentional, no. Actually, Maurice as a character is older than Micah, as he was introduced a few months before the release of RDR2, but I must admit that the thought actually crossed my mind while writing some of his scenes in the last chapter. There's definitely some similarities here, they're both crude, misogynistic assholes and it becomes increasingly more obvious that Maurice's influence on Petyr is not a good one, similar to how Micah influenced some of Dutch's worst decisions. The one thing that sets them apart is that Micah has always been a sociopath who only looked out for himself, whereas Maurice seems to be truly loyal to Petyr and his advice, while harsh and sometimes downright toxic seems to be motivated out of a genuine if ruthless desire to increase the power of House Blackwood. Physically, he's actually an exact cross between Micah and Wormtongue, combining the former's physical prowess with the latter's odd, freakish looks.



Glad you enjoy Gravven, he's been a lot of fun to write in the past and there's some scenes for him in this chapter that I am really looking forward for. As for the chapter title, you are on point. It is partially a reference to Kyra, who was a lot more shy and demure as a child, with Harndon giving her this nickname during their first meeting. But there is more behind the title and more characters whom this is referring to, even if Kyra is the most obvious one.



I am so excited for it! The hiatus was the best decision I could have made in regards to regaining my writing motivation and I have used it to make a really tight plan for the coming parts. One thing I can already reveal is that I'm trying to release a lot more parts with two PoV's, this should help with making the chapter feel much more compact.

Prior to today's lesson, Jenna had not been sure what to expect of Lord Petyr's daughter. From all she had seen of her in the last months, Edith was as a withdrawn girl, reminding her very much of herself, even if their upbringings had been vastly different, of course. Though she was often seen in the halls and hallways of Raylansfair, Jenna had never spoken to her before. Some of the courtiers were quick to dismiss her as nothing but Lord Petyr's bastard, but Jenna knew that more than anything else, she was also the lord's only child and that no matter what, Edith would always remain his firstborn.

For all his flaws, the lord himself was doting on his daughter. He was a good father to her, kind and caring, so much in fact that Jenna found it hard to believe that this was the same man who had plotted to kill his own brother and who, quite likely, was behind the death of his father as well. Around Edith, he acted like a wholly different man.

As for Jenna, Lord Petyr had given her a chance as well and she wasn't quite sure what to make of it yet. They were all trusting in her, Saerya and Vali, Leonard and Kersea. As such, could she honestly take his offer in good faith? Perhaps he was not a good man, but he was no Mullendore either. That monster had murdered her father and she would do whatever necessary to bring him down. If Petyr could be convinced to turn against his co-conspirator, then it was worth the risk, but even so, Jenna felt a sting of guilt at having taken him up on his offer.

And yet, she was here, sitting side by side with Edith Flowers. Maester Eddard was sitting in front of them, while Lord Petyr himself was watching them from the back. And between her and the maester, there was the largest, heaviest and oldest book she had ever seen. As much as she felt odd, guilty even, there was at least a hint of curiosity as well, perhaps faint hope that this path could lead to justice for her father.

“So... I have understood correctly, mylord?”, Eddard asked, as he looked up from the dusty tome. “You want this woman to take lessons alongside your daughter?” His tone was calm and soft, as always, and his expression did not betray how he truly felt about this turn of events. “Is that a problem, maester?”, Petyr asked and immediately, Eddard shook his head. “Of course not, mylord”, he claimed. “Just an ounce of curiosity. I understand you want your daughter to receive a proper education, but this one is a mere commoner” There was no malice in his tone and he even gave Jenna a genuine smile, so she did not hold it against him.

“That is true”, Petyr confirmed. “But I wish that the servants I'll work with more closely receive training and education beyond their usual standing. It'll pay off in the future. She impressed me and now I would like to see what she's capable of when receiving a proper education. Talent and potential should always come before noble blood and a good family name” Eddard seemed surprised by his reply, though he gave his lord a slight nod. “A good stance, mylord”, he complimented him. “The Citadel works on similar foundations”

“And yet most of its students are the sons of lords, both high and low”, Petyr replied, earning himself a dry chuckle from the maester. “True, mylord”, he admitted. “Though we don't decide who pursues the path of a maester. In my time at the Citadel, I've seen pig-herders succeed where princes have failed. Archmaester Quent, my mentor, once told me that when he first came to the Citadel, they would look down upon Northerners such as myself. Times have changed though and by the time I forged my final link, we welcomed our first Ironborn student. A learned woman though, that remains highly unusual”

“Good thing we're not at the Citadel then, huh?”, Petyr growled and Eddard gave him a wide, confident smile. “I was going to say the exact same thing, mylord”, he claimed, before he turned to Jenna. “So then, Jenna Harking... I've been told you have some rudimentary knowledge already?” Jenna hesitated, before she gave him a nod. “My father taught...”, she began, before she cut herself off. “I can read and write fairly well”

Eddard's smile was mild and genuine, yet she spotted something slightly mocking in it as well. “Yes, I'm sure you can”, he spoke. “You may prove it later” He looked up at the lord again. “I assume the tutelage for your daughter will continue as planned?” By now, Petyr had walked up to his daughter, placing one hand on Edith's shoulder. The girl looked up at him and a wide, joyful smile formed on her face. “I'll be good today, father”, she promised.

Petyr chuckled and for a second, Jenna was baffled that such a loving father could have ever acted to cruelly towards his own brother. “Aren't you always?”, he replied. “Pay attention to Maester Eddard's lessons. They may be dry, but you'll need them for the rest of your life” With these words, he glanced at Jenna. “And you, mylady, I trust you'll look after my daughter for the next hour”

Jenna gave him a firm nod. “Of course, mylord”, she confirmed. “And... thank you. For the opportunity, I mean” Petyr walked up to her, giving her a stern look. “You've impressed me last time we spoke, Jenna Harking”, he told her. “And I cannot deny it, I'm sympathetic to your plight. So... keep impressing me and you might make yourself invaluable” He glanced out of the small window to her left and as she followed his gaze, she spotted Maron Mullendore striding across the courtyard, conversing with Donnel Selwyn. “I demand a lot from those who serve me closely”, Petyr admitted. “But as my inner household can assure you, there's worse masters to serve”

She had no trouble believing that. For all his flaws, Petyr did not strike her as a cruel man, or one who would mistreat his servants. Then again, the same could have been said about Harris and all of his good intentions hadn't made him a good lord. A year had passed and Jenna could still picture the look on Ser Ilhan's face so clearly... no, now was not a good time to dwell on dark memories. Petyr Vyrwel was the Lord of Raylansfair now, but if Leonard and Kersea would succeed in Oldtown, perhaps he wouldn't stay in this position for long. She did not know who would follow him and was certain that as far as rulers went, Petyr was probably among the decent kind, but if bringing him down meant revenge on Maron Mullendore, then she was ready for it.

Immediately, she forced herself to smile. “I've met worse masters to serve”, she confirmed. Petyr narrowed his eyes and briefly, Jenna feared that he could see right through her. “Is that how you got the scar?”, he asked and now, Jenna's smile was gone in an instant. The mark from Wolfius' attack had faded considerably over the last year, but a long, pale line from her forehead, past her eye and down to the cheekbone remained. And though she hardly noticed it anymore, moments like this made her feel downright anxious about it.

“I'm sorry, I did not mean to pry”, Petyr stated immediately and Jenna shook her head. “That wasn't Lord... Ser Harris”, she clarified. “That's...” Before she could elaborate, she glanced at Edith Flowers, who was sitting just a few feet away and listening to every word she spoke. “That's a story for another time, mylord. If that's alright with you”

“Quite so”, Petyr assured her. “Another time then, Jenna” He gave her a quick nod, before turning to his daughter, smiling at her as he left the room. With this, Jenna was alone with the girl and Maester Eddard. Edith gave her a shy wave, followed by a genuine smile. Eddard meanwhile looked at her, calm and stern, his gloved hands folded above a heavy tome. “Ahem, mylady, if you may”, he spoke up. “Take a seat and look at this. You claim you can read, now's your chance to prove it” He looked from her to Edith. “Today's lesson is about the great houses of Westeros”

Now, Edith rolled her eyes. “Do we have to, maester?”, she asked and Eddard chuckled dryly, before turning back to Jenna. He opened the tome and she could see pages upon pages of colourful sigils. Each of them had to belong to a house, as she realized, and briefly, she even spotted House Raylan there. There were different banners on the walls now, no longer the familiar golden book on a field of green and white, but a silver dragon on black and red. House Vyrwel had a sinister sigil, much like the lord who led it.

The page Maester Eddard stopped at showed another sigil she knew well. A green hand on a field of white. “House Gardener of Highgarden”, she intoned at once and Maester Eddard gave her a nod. “I knew you'd recognize it. Many commoners do”, he stated, as he pointed at the line written right beneath the sigil, aged ink on dried parchment. The handwriting was impeccable, delicate lines and deciphering them was not much of a challenge. “Spring... four?”, she asked.

“Spring Forth”, Eddard corrected her. “The words of House Gardener. They're glorious, ancient and numerous and they can trace their lineage back to Garth Greenhand himself. By no means the only house, of course. Hightower, Oakheart, Redwyne, Selwyn and a dozen more claim the same, each citing a different of Garth's many children as their legendary ancestor, but House Gardener is the only one that can claim to descend from his firstborn son, also named Garth”

“They all married among each other though, didn't they?”, Jenna replied. “Shouldn't they all be able to trace back their lineage to each of Greenhand's children?” Eddard was quiet for a moment and a pleased smile formed on his face. “Technically, yes”, he confirmed. “There are strong bonds of blood between House Gardener and each of the great houses of the Reach. Those ties are the foundation of this kingdom and as long as they persist, no inner turmoil shall threaten the stability of House Gardener's reign”

The look he gave her now was an odd one and for a second, Jenna tensed up. What did that mean? His assistant Vali knew all about Lord Petyr's plot against House Gardener, but according to him, Eddard was oblivious to it and not on anyone's side here. But the hint about inner turmoil... that was exactly what threatened the Reach right now, so perhaps he knew more than Vali had suspected.

“That was an easy one though, wasn't it?”, Eddard remarked. “Let me show you an example of a house that doesn't have strong ties to a majority of its subjects” He began to turn the pages, slowly at first and Jenna could see many of the sigils, some familiar, others completely new to her. A red apple on a field of yellow, grapes on a field of blue, the tower of House Hightower...

After a few pages, he stopped and Jenna gazed upon one of the most elaborate sigils she had ever seen. It seemed almost like four different sigils all forced together. A golden longship on a field of black on top, to the right there was a green tree on a field of white, below it red grapes on a field of yellow and to the left, at last, a black raven on a field of blue. Between them there were heavy, crude chains, crossing in the middle, granting each of the four symbols its own space on the sigil.

“Read, girl”, Eddard spoke, pointing at the name above the sigil, then at the house words beneath. Jenna narrowed her eyes at the letters, mumbling them to herself as she formed them in her head. And quickly, she realized that they were not unfamiliar words at all. She knew this house, she knew it well for all the pain it had brought upon her home.

“House Hoare of Orkmont”, she read. “Their words are...” Again, she narrowed her eyes. Four short words, none of them difficult on its own, but she needed several moments to get them all together. “With Chains of Iron” Eddard gave her a nod. “Sinister words for a sinister house”, he told her. “It's quite telling too. Those symbols show the riches of House Hoare during its golden age, from the pine trees of Bear Island to the sweet grapes of the Arbor, all bound by heavy, iron chains. They bind their riches with chains of iron, but there's only so much oppression their subjects can take. Ever since Harwyn Hardhand took the Riverlands, he and his descendants have ruled over two people. Their Ironborn subjects have ties of blood to them, yes, but those mean little on the Iron Islands, as each captain is a king in his own right on his longship. They need to be reigned in through strength alone. As for the Riverlands, House Hoare lacks any notable blood ties to the noble houses of that land and unlike the Ironborn, the Riverlanders take great importance in those. Harren Hoare has four sons and he could easily marry them off to the great houses of the Riverlands to strengthen his rule, but he is a proud man as well and doesn't want to see his sons bound to Greenlander women”

“So he rather risks a rebellion...”, Jenna mumbled and Eddard gave her a nod. “How anyone could see him as a king to follow is beyond me”, he admitted. There, again... was that just a coincidence, or did he know more about Maron Mullendore's goals? She had to be cautious about this, for even if he knew, Eddard was Petyr's maester and a Northerner on top. He had no stakes in this, at worst he was even on his lord's side.

“How about houses from the Reach?”, Jenna asked. “I'd rather know about local families instead of other kingdoms” Eddard shrugged. “We covered those last week”, he replied, before he glanced at Edith. “However, this could be an opportunity to see how much you still remember, young lady” Edith looked up, a brief expression of dismay on her face. “Do I have to?”, she asked, but Eddard ignored her complaint.

“Come on, child, you know that one”, he told her. “House Vyrwel” Edith rolled her eyes. “House Vyrwel of Darkdell”, she intoned. “The lord is my father and...” She paused as Eddard gave her a sudden, sharp glare. Immediately, the girl flinched, before taking a deep breath. “The lord is Petyr Vyrwel”, she corrected herself. “And their words are 'No Ties May Bind'”

“Sounds grim”, Jenna remarked, though Eddard shook his head. “The story behind it is one of valour, even if I wouldn't believe all of the details”, he revealed. “Legend has it that a great silver dragon rampaged through the countryside of the Reach. Ser Vyrwel the Black-Handed rode out to slay it, but the beast lured him into a trap and bound him in heavy chains, forcing him to watch as it threatened to burn down Highgarden itself, where Vyrwel's family resided at the time. They say that for those he loved and for the king he was sworn to protect, Vyrwel managed to break the chains just as the dragon launched his attack. He then used these very chains to force the dragon to the ground, where he beat it to death with his bare hands”

“Really now?”, Jenna asked in obvious disbelief and Eddard chuckled. “That's not the least probable story from the Age of Heroes”, he claimed. “There's a few remaining links of an ancient, rusty chain in Darkdell which Lord Petyr claims once belonged to Ser Vyrwel, but I assume that any truth behind this story has been long lost under thousands of years of myths and embellishments”

“I see...”, Jenna mumbled. “It makes for a good story at least. I like it” Edith smiled brightly and agreed with an enthusiastic nod. “It's my favourite story!”, she revealed. “Father often reads it to me before bedtime, but he's a lot better at it than Maester Eddard” Eddard rolled his eyes. “Well, young lady, I don't aspire to be a storyteller. You're here to learn something. Both of you are” With these words, he looked back at Jenna. “So, is there any specific house you'd like to learn about?”

She gave him a nod, almost too quickly as she realized. “What about House Mullendore?”, she asked. Eddard let out a slight sigh and he was quiet for a moment, long enough for Jenna to grow concerned. “Yeah, I knew you'd ask about them”, he admitted. “And let it be known that I understand your grudge against Ser Maron. But I am a man of knowledge and nothing more. I want no part in your quarrel with him”

“Understood”, Jenna confirmed and Eddard continued to turn a few pages, now going back until he stopped at a familiar sigil, one that had burned itself into Jenna's mind. A swarm of black and orange butterflies on a field of white. “Now, Edith, what have we learned about House Mullendore?”, the maester asked.

The girl let out a sigh. “We have learned that Ser Maron stinks”, she stated, giving Jenna a mischievous grin. “Edith!”, Maester Eddard growled at once and the girl did not even bother with looking remorseful. “There's something wrong about his smile”, she continued. “Never reaches his eye. I don't like the way he's looking at people”

“Smart girl”, Jenna muttered beneath her breath and Eddard gave her a sharp glare. “That is not the question, Edith”, the maester spoke sternly. “Ser Maron is not the lord of House Mullendore. Can you at least tell me who that is?” Edith nodded at once, but her look of confidence quickly faltered, as her smile grew thinner. “No...”, she finally admitted.

Eddard let out a sigh. “House Mullendore is the closest ally your father has at the moment and you can't even tell me the name of their lord...”, he mumbled. “It's Cregan Mullendore, Ser Maron's cousin. I admittedly never met the man, but he's a Marcher Lord, so don't expect him to be any softer than his cousin”

“I don't expect him to be any different from him at all”, Jenna clarified. “He's a Mullendore. He's got to be rotten” Eddard looked at her and his gaze was inscrutable, but stern. “Now I understand what potential Lord Petyr sees in you”, he told her. “So bold for a servant” Just in this moment, the door behind her got pushed open and Jenna immediately flinched, as she broke eye contact with the Northerner. “Or perhaps not”, Eddard added. “Saltmouth! What brings you here?”

And indeed, as Jenna turned around, she spotted Vali Flowers peeking into the room. “Hope I'm interrupting something”, he said and his wide grin already got on Jenna's nerves. “Heard you're here, Jenna. Need to talk to you for a moment, in private” He glanced over his shoulder. “I'm afraid it's kinda urgent, so get up and walk with me”

“I'm afraid that won't do”, Eddard disagreed. “Jenna is in the middle of a lesson here. You're welcome to wait until we're finished, but that could take another hour” Next to her, Edith only barely managed to suppress a sigh. Vali, however, shook his head. “I think she should decide here”, he spoke, before he gave Jenna another urgent look. “It's about our common friend”

Immediately, Jenna realized that she had to go with him. Though she was not sure which of their common 'friends' he could mean, she had a hunch that she shouldn't postpone this talk. “It'll be just a minute, Maester”, she spoke, as she rose from her seat. Maester Eddard just mildly shook his head. “We'll learn about manners next week”, he told her. “I'll allow it this time, if only because I know Vali won't let it go”

“He's right I won't”, Vali confirmed, as Jenna walked up to him. Though she was not in the mood for his antics, he was a stalwart ally, if nothing more. “Lead the way then and make it quick”, she hissed. “I got a lesson to go back to” His smirk, as he closed the door, was downright infuriating. “Oh, mylady's got a lesson to go back to”, he chuckled. “Well then, I gotta wonder what this is all about”

His tone was jovial, but Jenna saw a curious intelligence in his gaze. “What do you mean?”, she asked, as they left the study behind, walking down an empty hallway. Few people ever came to this part of the keep, close to the maester's tower. In past days, it had been where Morna Raylan and her handmaidens had lived, but it had been near abandoned long before Jenna first started to work for Lord Raylan.

“Well, this”, Vali replied. “Getting lessons with Edith Flowers. Getting all chummy with Lord Petyr” His tone was colder now, though his smile remained. “I get that you are willing to do anything to get your revenge on Maron Mullendore and gods know, I'm on your side there, but never forget that they're two sides of the same coin”

“You don't have to worry about that then”, Jenna hissed. “And I'm not getting all chummy with him. He's... not like Maron. Doesn't mean he's better, but they disagree on how to proceed, I've seen it. I need to gain his trust, so that I...” Vali cut her off right there. “Mh, yeah, I get it”, he spoke. “Really, I'm on your side with this. I trust you. Saerya though... oh man, she's not so sure”

Now, he had caught her by surprise. “You've spoken to Saerya?”, she gasped and he gave her a nod. “Aye, she's back in Raylansfair”, he confirmed. “She won't stay long though. Afraid someone noticed her absence, probably rightly so. Means she'll leave soon, but before that, she wants to meet” He stopped and now, Jenna could clearly see the annoyed look on his face. “Far be it for me to play messenger for that woman, but here we are. She wants to meet with you, discuss your next steps. If I have to take a guess, she also wants to make sure you're still on her side”

“I am on her side”, Jenna clarified and Vali's smirk returned. “Well and here I was hoping you'd be on mine”, he chirped. “Listen, I gotta go, but if you want to meet up with her, head to a place called Roman's farm. You know where that is?” Jenna gave him a nod. “Roman, he's... he's been my father's neighbour for decades. He died last year, though last I heard one of his farmhands has taken over the farm ever since, with Lord Petyr's blessing”

“Yeah, whatever, I don't really care about farmer stuff, alright?”, Vali told her. “If you want to meet up with Saerya though, you should do it as fast as possible. She's on the edge, more so than usual and for once, I understand her. Coming back here when Butterfly's freaks are almost certainly out there looking for her, it's no small risk. I think you should ease her concerns a bit”

“And that's coming from you...”, Jenna mumbled. “I'm in the middle of class right now” Her comment was enough for Vali to actually laugh out aloud. “Sorry, but you should see your face right now”, he said. “I've had the pleasure of studying under Eddard. He's alright, but trust me, you're not missing anything of importance. Saerya though, I don't know what her deal is, but she might be gone tomorrow. Won't miss her, but, really, I think you should hear her out this once”

Jenna narrowed her eyes. “Lord Petyr has given me a chance”, she hissed. “If I'm leaving now, I might risk his goodwill...” Vali cut her off with a dismissive gesture. “Yeah, yeah”, he mumbled. “See, you're arguing with the wrong guy here. Screw Saerya for all I care. I'll admit she's been useful in getting Ser Kasyn out of the city, but you and I, we're better off without the dragonlord and his spies. But I wager you're not so quick to dismiss her” He shrugged. “Go now if you want to hear her out right away, or wait until your precious lesson is finished. Your choice... mylady”

---

Oldtown... Ilish had heard a lot about the largest city in Westeros. It was a shining jewel of the Reach for some, a symbol of its might and wealth. A gateway to the world for others, where ships from near and far gathered, from White Harbour to the far shores of Yi Ti. And to some, it was nothing but a glorified pile of dung, where beggars, thieves, killers and whores were slowly tearing each other apart.

For Ilish, who had never been to this place, it had always meant potential and promise. Sure, there was violence and poverty in these streets, same as in any other larger city in Westeros and beyond. But Ilish was used to such places, she thrived in them. She knew how to keep a low profile and how to make a living here. As such, from the moment she saw the massive walls in the distance, her mood had gotten better and better.

The same was true for Lawsen, if for entirely different reasons. The stress of their long journey, the concern of being followed and found by Wildor Goodbrook, the dangers that lurked beyond the roads in these days, all of it had taken a toll on him, but the moment they passed through the gates, past heavy wagons and all sorts of travellers, an actual, honest smile formed on his face. “We made it...”, he gasped and as he turned around, Ilish could see tears of relief on his face. “By the Seven, we actually made it!”

“Has there ever been any doubt?”, she asked and instead of replying, Lawsen pulled her into a quick hug. She tensed up, not because of him or the gesture itself, but out of mere instinct, before she actually hugged him back. “Of course there was!”, Lawsen exclaimed, as he stared around the busy streets of Oldtown in awe. They were still close to the gate and the main street they were standing on was as crowded as can be.

“Those past weeks... damn it, I was certain Goodbrook would follow us. Perhaps you got him worse than I thought”, he mumbled and Ilish frowned. “If I did, I didn't mean to”, she told him. “I'm no killer” He gave her a quick nod. “I know you're not”, he spoke. “And I know I didn't praise you even nearly enough for what you did. Most would have looked away. Some would have helped Wildor. Takes someone special to actually step in and do the right thing”

Ilish rolled her eyes. “Stop it, you're making me blush”, she hissed, though she followed with a sweet smile. “You certainly seem more at ease now though. That's the most chatty you've been in weeks” Lawsen gave her a nod. “Because I know nobody's listening here”, he told her, looking around the crowd. Dozens of people, hundreds perhaps, were walking past them, none paying them more than a passing glance. “We're just two faces in the crowd here. As it should be”

“And that's all you want to be?”, Ilish asked. “We made it to Oldtown. What's next then for Lawsen the master thief?” Now, a look of brief annoyance flashed over his face. “It was only a few coins”, he told her. “And I'd say I'm not even a good thief, all things considered. The good ones never get caught, eh?” Ilish gave him a wink. “I can confirm that”, she replied. “Still, you mentioned your family, yes?”

“Three brothers, aye”, Lawsen confirmed. “All younger than me. Haven't seen them in years...” Now, his smile faded. “If they're still alive at all, that is” He was going to continue, but just in this moment, Ilish felt a shove behind her. She staggered forwards and against her companion, before spinning around with anger in her gaze. “Hey, watch it!”, she spat.

“Sorry”, the man who had bumped into her managed to mumble as he walked by, too quick for her to even properly register his face. “But you're kinda in the way. Get off the main street if you just want to stand somewhere” With these words, he was gone, vanished in the crowd and Ilish let out a sigh. “Arse”, she mumbled. “He's right though. We should find some place to sleep. Nearest tavern, it's my treat”

Lawsen did not complain and so, they quickly made their way past the main street. That was another benefit of such a large city. In Raylansfair, there was only one tavern and as much as she liked Audrey Marigold, some competition would have been good for her. But here in Oldtown, thousands of travellers demanded hundreds of different taverns and inns. Finding one was not the problem.

“We should both lay low for a while”, Lawsen told her, as they followed the street. “Wait a few months. Keep an eye out for Goodbrook. He followed me to Raylansfair, he'll probably follow me here and then home” His expression soured and just then, the brief moment of joy was gone, replaced by the usual, paranoid glance. “I want to see my brothers again, but whatever happens, I can't stay with them. There's no place in Westeros I can stay for too long”

“Don't you think that's a bit extreme?”, Ilish asked and Lawsen immediately shook his head. “For you maybe”, he replied. “I'd say you should stay here for a few months as well, but you can return home once this is over. Wildor won't be looking for you. Sure, you knocked him out, but he's not one to hold grudges about this. Me though... I'm a deserter and he's taking that personal. No, I'll stay here until I find a ship whose captain I can trust. Then, it's the Free Cities for me”

“Well, where you may end up at, I hope you'll have it good there”, Ilish told him. By now, they were approaching one particular building on the side of the main road. It was large and walled off, with its own set of stables, but the painted sign just above the door clearly proved that it was a tavern, as did the noise from within. Though it was not too late yet, this place was crowded already and Ilish could only hope they'd get a room for the night. Her savings would last for a few weeks perhaps, but it wouldn't be long until she had to find a way to make some coin. Thankfully, there were plenty pockets to pick here and she knew they would not starve. “But as soon as I can, I'll head back home”, she added. “I've been running for so long and Raylansfair... Audrey's tavern, Daisy and Megur... it's home. I'm not ready to give up on that”

“Yeah, I get what you mean”, Lawsen claimed. “I'd give everything to be free of the Night's Watch for good. To return home, you know. But that's no longer an option for me. I'm going to find a ship to Lannisport once I'm certain Wildor won't be looking there for me. And then, I'll secure passage to Braavos or Tyrosh”

Ilish knew exactly how it felt to lose one's home and she felt a sting of pity for the young man. He had saved her life and she had saved his, but she did not feel as if they were even yet. “Can I do anything to help you?”, she asked and Lawsen immediately shook his head. “You've done enough already”, he told her, before his smile grew thinner. “Although... I'm out of coin. Don't know how much you have saved, but if you could pay for my room for a few days, I'll pay you back once I've found work. In a city like this, that can't be hard and I'll do anything to get on a ship”

“Really anything?”, Ilish asked and Lawsen chuckled. “You don't know how it feels to be hunted, Ilish”, he replied. “I hope you'll never do. But come. We're here now, let's enjoy the evening. We've earned some respite” He held the door open for her and she did a stiff curtsy in return. “With my coin, you mean”, she told him, even though she was planning to pay for him all along.

The taproom they now entered was full. Not overcrowded by any means and she already spotted a few empty tables, but still filled with people, travellers mostly. This close to the city gates, the crowd consisted mostly of Westerosi, Reachmen who had travelled to Oldtown by land. She could only suspect that the crowd would become stranger, more diverse the closer they'd get to the port, but for the time being, this seemed like a cozy place to be. Ilish had always felt at ease in a tavern, surrounded by people who were each more drunken and less perceptive than her. However, Lawsen was right with one thing. They had earned some respite after the forced march of the past weeks and she had no intentions of remaining sober tonight.

“That one”, Lawsen spoke immediately, pointing at an empty table in the corner of the taproom. “Enough space between the other tables to give us some privacy and we can see whenever someone new enters the taproom” Ilish had to agree with him, it was a decent table, which made it somewhat surprising that no one else had claimed it. Though they caught a few glances as they made their way through the taproom, none stopped them either, which she took as a good sign.

“That one it is then”, she spoke. “I hope they have good ale. In Raylansfair, we only had Torold Stratford's brew and that stuff was only barely tolerable. And I'm starving” Lawsen's smile returned, hesitant at first, but he quickly regained his confidence. “Same here”, he replied, as they sat down at the table. Immediately, Ilish began to look around for any barmaid.

And slowly, steadily, she began to relax. They were in Oldtown at last. A dangerous place, yes, but one where they could keep a low profile. Safe at last. Yes, she could stay here for a while, do some odd jobs or make a living by picking some unsuspecting pockets. Lawsen could find work here with ease and once he secured a passage to Lannisport, they'd part ways. She could return home and both could finally find some peace in their life.

She was dragged from her pleasant thoughts by something huge blocking her field of view, towering over the table and casting a shadow over her and Lawsen. Immediately, her companion jumped up, instinctively ready to flee. The man that was now towering over their table was exceptionally tall, at least over six feet, his skin a shade of beaten amber and dull, dark brown eyes. His hair was reddish-brown and cut short, only further drawing attention to his plain, wide face and his brutish features. A crooked, twisted nose, broken repeatedly and framed by several scars, one on the forehead to the left, the other deep and knotty, going from his right ear all the way to the bottom of his chin.

With such an intimidating sight right in front of her, it was easy to ignore the other man right beside the brute, even if he was by no means unremarkable. He was shorter than his huge companion, but most men were, with a slender build and pale skin. Short, black hair, sleeked back, drawing attention to his strange, haunting eyes. They were indigo, the first time Ilish had ever seen such a colour among someone's eyes. His face was similarly handsome, narrow and well-sculpted. Whereas his companion was clad in light leathers, he himself was dressed as exquisitely as he looked. His robe was made of the finest silks, crafted in a way she had never seen here in Westeros, consisting of several layers of dark fabric, from dim green to full purple. And whereas his companion was merely glaring at them, this man was smiling, a friendly, but visibly confused expression.

“Excuse me”, he spoke. “It appears you've made a small mistake, for this is our table” Ilish narrowed her eyes. “Don't see your name on it”, she replied and immediately, the brute, who had previously faced Lawsen, focussed on her entirely. The handsome man chuckled and she spotted early signs of ageing on his face. He was not an old man by any means and his beauty had something ageless about it, but he was clearly not in his twenties anymore.

“We reserved it though”, he told her. It's the best table in the room. Far away from the others to offer some degree of privacy and located in a corner, so that we can keep an eye on any newcomers” She gave him a nod. “Yeah, that's what we thought as well”, she told him, as Lawsen rose from his seat. “Listen man, we don't want any trouble”, he spoke. “Honest mistake, so let's just part ways peacefully, aye?”

He was about to push himself past the brute, before the handsome man reached out for him. “Whoa there, my friend!”, he spoke and his smile grew a slight bit more confused. “I'm sorry, I must have given you the wrong impression. Must have been my friends fault, but we're not here to intimidate you” With these words, he pulled at the chair in front of him, making a generous gesture. “You were here first and it's bloody crowded today. I don't see why we shouldn't share the table for the evening”

Immediately, Lawsen shook his head. “That won't be necessary”, he spoke. “We're sorry, okay” Ilish, however, didn't see what they should be sorry for. She knew Lawsen was cautious, but she was exhausted from the long march and glad to have some respite at last. This man did not seem too bad, even if his companion surely was intimidating. “What for?”, she hissed, before she gave the stranger the smallest of smiles. “We'll take you up on that offer. No reason why we should not share” She extended her hand and after a moment of consideration, the stranger shook it. “I'm Ilish, by the way”

“Ilish”, he said. “A beautiful name. Not from around here... a Northerner, I presume?” She gave him a nod. “Perceptive”, she replied. “And this paranoid fellow is my friend Lawsen” The man gave each of them an elegant nod, making it look almost like a bow. “And my name is Vogero”, he introduced himself. “Vogero Forios”

“Also not from around here”, Ilish stated. “Let me guess, the Free Cities?” Vogero smirked. “That wasn't too hard, I suppose”, he confirmed. “Though a bit farther away than most of them. I was born in Lorath” With these words, he pointed at his brutish and silent companion, who was still standing. “And this meathead here has the blood of Old Ghis running through his veins. Sometimes I think it's the reason for his terrible manners. Oknis, don't be like that! Sit down and say hello”

Almost immediately, the brute did just that. He sat down, before he shot Ilish and Lawsen a grim glare. “Hello”, he growled. Vogero rolled his eyes. “He's not fluent in your language”, he spoke. “Though it doesn't really change the fact that he is an asshole right now” The brute, Oknis, did not reply, as Vogero turned back to Ilish. “So, two newcomers in Oldtown”, he stated. “What leads you to the finest city in Westeros?”

“This place is a dump”, Oknis growled and Vogero rolled his eyes. “It's the largest city in Westeros, therefore it is the richest and therefore it holds the most opportunities. That makes it the finest, idiot”, he hissed, though his pleasant smile remained. “Our reasons are our own”, Ilish replied. She was willing to entertain this man for a bit, but to trust him with their secrets would be foolish.

“Fair enough”, Vogero admitted. “I won't pry” As he spoke, a girl approached them from behind, a barmaid most likely, looking at them with quick, curious eyes. “Friends of yours, Vogero?”, she chirped and the man shook his head. “We just met”, he told her without breaking off eye contact with Ilish. “Bring us the usual, dearie”

The barmaid nodded, as she glanced at Ilish. “You paying for your friends?”, she asked and immediately, Ilish shook her head. “We can pay for ourselves”, she replied, as one of her hands reached down to her belt. “I have...” She paused, as she grasped around, her eyes slowly widening in horror. “My purse...”, she mumbled. “Shit... Shit!” Now frantically, she began to look around, looking from her belt to Vogero, then back to her belt, where a thin knife had expertly cut off her purse.

“One round for each of us then”, Vogero offered, handing the barmaid a silver coin. “Keep the change, sweetheart” The barmaid gave him a wink, before she turned around, leaving them alone once again. Ilish sighed. “Thank you”, she spoke. “I'd repay you, but as it stands, I've just lost all my coin” She clenched her fists, as she slammed one hand down onto the table. “Damn it!”, she barked. By the Seven, she was supposed to be the pickpocket here. She had done the same to so many patrons back in Raylansfair. There were certain tricks to her profession and she knew them all. So how could she have fallen to such an... an amateur?

“That guy from earlier”, Lawsen realized. “The one who bumped into you” Ilish gave him a nod. “I should have known better”, she growled. Her savings hadn't been much, but they were supposed to ease their first weeks here in Oldtown. It wouldn't be the first time she'd have to start with nothing, but nonetheless, a numb frustration began to grow within her. With a sigh, she rose from her seat, while Vogero and Oknis looked on. “Some cunt stole my purse”, she spat. “Sorry, Vogero. We'll take our leave. Perhaps we'll find a dry place to sleep before sundown”

Vogero glanced out of the small window to their side. It offered a view out onto a small side street and through it, Ilish could see that the sun was slowly setting already. “That happens to many who first step into Oldtown”, he admitted. “Almost happened to me too, but thankfully, I got Oknis by my side. Gave the thief a good scare”

“Smashed his skull in”, Oknis growled and Vogero rolled his eyes. “Trust me, that little rat deserved it”, he claimed. “But yeah, that happens to most newcomers at least once. Some don't even survive their first night here. Those streets can be vicious at night” Ilish let out a sigh, as she exchanged a look with Lawsen. If he was disappointed, he hid it well. “It's alright, Ilish”, her companion told her. “We'll find a way. Some alley for the night and tomorrow we can try and find work”

Vogero leant closer and now, Ilish could smell his perfume. It was expensive, probably, a sharp, but decidedly pleasant scent, reminding her of fresh pepper and salt water. “Or, hear me out for a moment” He reached into his pocket and then placed one hand onto the table. “I mean it, those streets are dangerous. A few months ago, a gang war escalated, ending with the deaths of Oldtown's grandest crime lords, the Burned Man and Butterfly. Ever since, half a dozen madmen fight for control over their remaining assets. The city guard is overwhelmed with this new violence and unless you have connections or know your way around really well, entering the wrong street after nightfall could easily get you killed”

With these words, he rose his hand, revealing a single gold coin. “The innkeep is a friend of mine”, he spoke. “For that coin, he'll let you stay in his cheapest room for three days. Might be time enough to find work” Ilish and Lawsen exchanged a glance and both shook their heads at once. “We cannot accept this”, Lawsen spoke and Ilish had to agree with him. The thought of depending on charity didn't sit well with her, even if she admittedly wasn't too keen on being out on those streets at night.

“Come on, no one's that generous”, Lawsen added. “What's your catch?” Vogero flashed him a toothy grin, revealing perfect, pearly-white teeth. “You got the right attitude for this city, boy”, he complimented him. “If the thought of charity doesn't sit right with you, then consider it an investment. I'm rich enough so that I don't have to worry about anything at the moment, but not enough so that I don't have to worry about anything ever again. Perhaps one day I'm in your situation, desperate and down on my luck and if that ever happens, I'd like to have a lot of friends who can support me in return”

“So you want us to be in your debt”, Lawsen realized, but Ilish wasn't so sure. Vogero's smile seemed genuine, charming even. His companion was admittedly terrifying, but he himself seemed reasonable. “I never said that, Lawsen”, Vogero corrected him. “All I'm saying is, you pay me back once you can, no interest, no hidden catch. Is it really that hard to believe that I'm not the type of man to just send two strangers out to their potential doom?”

Oknis glanced at his companion and quietly raised an eyebrow, but he remained silent, as usual. Lawsen sighed, before he turned to Ilish. “What do you think?”, he spoke, whispering even though Vogero could quite clearly hear him. “I don't like this... I don't think we can trust him. We don't know anything about him”

“But you're considering it”, Vogero spoke and reluctantly, Lawsen gave him a nod. “I've come too far to be killed by some street thug tonight”, he admitted, before he turned back to Ilish. “Do you want to do this? Accepting that guy's offer, be in his debt... we can always refuse and try to find another place to sleep”

Ilish looked carefully at Vogero. “You'd just help two complete strangers?”, she asked and he gave her a nod. “I did the same many times”, he replied. “This is not much for me, but from experience, few ever forget such a small act of kindness. Of course I hope to benefit from this later, but I won't demand payment. Take my coin or leave it, but please, at least consider it. Oldtown's not a place where you should cling to your pride, nor one where you should refuse honest aid”

[Finish the lesson before meeting with her]
[Accept Vogero's aid]

I´m team Petyr all the way, besides it seems a lot more foolish for Jenna to get on the bad side of people that can directly impact her life as opposed to losing an alliance with the Targaryens.
Vogero seems like an interesting guy, a new crime lord/businessman looking to become the next big thing in Oldtown perhaps?

[Meet with Saerya right away]
[Accept Vogero's aid]

I am pleasantly surprised there even is a Team Petyr. Of course he did plenty of bad things for reasons that are not inherently sympathetic, but in the current chapters of the story, I really want to show that there's more to him than just that. Also, yeah, getting on his bad side is guaranteed to be immediately a lot more dangerous than getting on Saerya's bad side. Her masters are most definitely not caring a single bit for Jenna and whom she's loyal to and Saerya herself... well, that might be a different thing entirely, but we'll see how she react. The choice has not won yet, but at latest, the alternative choices at the end of the chapter should give you an idea how she'd feel about this.



Perhaps indeed, Ilish's next parts will definitely give you an idea who he is and what his goals in Oldtown are. A small fact here, he was actually mentioned a handful times in the past, in Keat's parts to be precise. Apparently, Keat owes him some coin, he doesn't really like the man, but he and Hishi as well consider him more reasonable than Thorin Bannister at least. But neither of them know Vogero all that well, more about his personality and his goals will be revealed in the near future.

[Finish the lesson before meeting with her]

[Accept Vogero's aid]

He and Ryler met Rodrik and Lucia right where the path up to the castle began. The steep road had been the end of many Ironborn during the raid and it had been here where Lord Petyr had crushed the last of them. And yet, after all Sherryl had told him, Arthur knew perfectly well that it wasn't as simple. The raid could have been avoided. Lord Raylan's death could have been avoided. A better man would have acted against this injustice, but right now, with Wolfius still around, Arthur's duty was to the innocent people of Raylansfair first and foremost. And though he had allies in his fight against Wolfius Woodbark, he could not trust them with this knowledge.

Rodrik was wearing his mask once more, black and red, a malevolent mask for a malevolent man. In contrast, his hooded robe was white and entirely spotless. Lucia was leaning against the small wall next to him, arms crossed, and Arthur was not sure if she was not thrilled to see him or just not thrilled to be here at all.

“Uncle”, Ryler spoke, greeting Rodrik with a nod, before he glanced at Lucia. The girl rolled her eyes. “Good morning, brother”, she chirped and though her voice was chipper, her expression remained cold, especially as she looked at Arthur. “And you too, I guess” Though the mask was concealing his entire face, Rodrik's body language was decidedly friendlier. “It's good to see you, Ryler”, he greeted his nephew, placing a hand on the young man's shoulder, before he gave Arthur a respectful nod. “And Arthur, I'm glad you're here. You've made the right choice”

Arthur frowned and his nod was reluctant at best. “Sure doesn't feel like it”, he mumbled. “The city guard is my life. This... it feels like a betrayal, doing this behind their back” Rodrik shook his head. “The city guard is ill-equipped and poorly trained”, he replied. “At least towards a threat of this scale. Wolfius Woodbark and Lupin Frostborn are dangerous men, but nothing me and the Alley Cats haven't killed before. But you know this already, or else you wouldn't have come”

“I came to the same conclusion, yes”, Arthur admitted. “I try to tell myself that I'm only keeping my men out of harm's way” Rodrik chuckled, a hollow tone beneath his mask. “That you do, Arthur”, he confirmed. “Wolfius on his own is dangerous already, but if Lupin is around... there will be bloodshed. And when that happens, you want a man like the Moggy by your side”

“It's about trust, though”, Arthur continued, as they began their walk up the path and towards the castle. “And when push comes to shove, I'd much rather trust men I've served with for years than... men of your reputation” Another chuckle, colder again. “Yeah, I get it”, Rodrik confirmed. “I've killed people, hurt countless more, I've done worse things than that and I've done them gladly, because in this world, you either live among the sheep and get eaten, or you rise above them” His dark eyes beneath the mask narrowed. “But you can trust me that I'm looking out for my own blood. My nephew, my niece... as long as they are in danger, and they will be as long as we let Wolfius and Lupin roam this land, you can trust that the Alley Cats will do whatever is necessary to stop those lunatics”

“Do you lead them now?”, Arthur asked and this time, there was no chuckle. “Me and the Tom go way back”, Rodrik claimed. “He will not betray you, if that's what you fear. Neither will I” Arthur gave him a nod. “Perhaps I can believe this”, he admitted and despite knowing better than to put his faith into such a vile man, he actually meant it. He had seen the lengths men could go through to keep their family safe. It was not unthinkable that even someone as rotten as the Sphynx had people he cared about.

Just last year, Arthur had known the guards at the castle well. Ilhan Lagoon had been a man of honour and integrity and though his father had not been too keen on the young woman Lord Harris had chosen as his successor, Nora Recton had done an admirable job as well. But now, most of the guards at the castle were strangers, Vyrwel men who had no loyalty to Raylansfair as it used to be.

On his own, they would have stopped him from entering the castle. Rodrik, however, was well-known to them and walking by his side, none of the men dared from even asking what they wanted here. The Sphynx shot each a glare regardless, though the look he gave Arthur was friendlier. “You will not regret this”, he claimed and Arthur was not so sure about it. “The Alley Cats might be a bunch of killers and cutthroats, but what better force to fight a lunatic and his skinchanger pet?”

He was about to say something else, but cut himself off with a gasp, as his gaze fell upon the two strode across the courtyard. Arthur knew one of them well enough and had at least seen the other to recognize him. This man was tall, but a bit on the heavy side, with tanned skin and blonde hair, combed over to hide beginning baldness. He had a wide smile on his face, though it faded the moment the other man was no longer looking at him. And this other man...

Instinctively, Arthur tensed up as he saw Maron Mullendore. Similarly tall and heavy-set, his facial features were harder than those of his companion, almost brutish. One eye was covered by an eyepatch, the other was green and piercing and his long mane of red hair showed clear signs of ageing. He was walking with a slight limp still, but seemed to rely on the cane for convenience instead of clear necessity. And the moment he spotted the group, he immediately began to head over.

“Sphynx!”, he exclaimed and Rodrik did an impeccable, but brief bow in front of him. “Ser Maron, what a pleasure to see you”, he spoke warmly, as he glanced at the other man by Maron's side. “And... I'm afraid we haven't been introduced” Before Maron could say something, this man immediately stepped forward, extending one hand for the Sphynx to shake. Rodrik grabbed it, though Arthur immediately saw him tensing up, with the handshake lasting for a slight bit longer than necessary.

“Lord Donnel Selwyn”, the man finally introduced himself and Rodrik actually sighed the moment the lord let go of his hand. “So, this is one of your masked freaks, Maron? How quaint. You have to tell me where you found them” Maron's smile was now clearly uncomfortable. “It's more like they found me, mylord. That was after their previous contract in Oldtown was.. terminated”, he replied. “And just like you, I have a keen eye for talent, so I kept them around”

It was hard to guess what Lord Donnel thought in this moment, his narrow eyes darting from Rodrik to Ryler, then to Arthur, while seemingly completely ignoring Lucia. His lips were thin, pressed together and even though there was the occasional smile whenever he looked at Maron, Arthur could easily guess that he was angry, not at them but at the knight by his side.

“Rodrik Grimthorn, at your service”, the Sphynx introduced himself. “This is my nephew Ryler and my niece Lucia” While the former at least hinted at a bow, the latter remained entirely still, defiantly so. “And Arthur Nathamer of the city guard” Maron Mullendore narrowed his one eye and Arthur felt a shiver running down his spine. “Nathamer?”, the knight growled, before he glanced at the lord by his side. “Mylord... may I leave you waiting for a moment. I need to discuss something with this one”

“With me?”, Arthur asked at once, while Donnel Selwyn narrowed his eyes. “With him?”, he chimed in. “Maybe you have not noticed, Maron, but this is serious! I've come here with my entire family on your lord's invitation and you go around picking a fight with the delegation from the Rock” Though his expression was visibly angered, Arthur spotted a mild look of triumph in his blue eyes, glee at having backed the knight into such a corner.

Maron, for his part, seemed visibly uncomfortable all of a sudden and Arthur could only imagine that this was not a topic he wanted to discuss in front of his subordinate and three strangers. Arthur had heard the official version, about the Rock knight and his men scheming to remove Lord Petyr from power, but after what Sherryl had told him, he could guess that this was, at best, only one half of the full truth.

“And I told you, there's no need to be concerned, mylord”, Maron was quick to argue, before he glanced from the Sphynx to Arthur. “And this won't take long. Grant me a moment, please” Lord Donnel let out a sigh. “So be it”, he gave in and his smile returned, wide and cold. “But I know you'll make it up to me when next we meet”

Maron frowned, before he gave him a nod. “Give me a list of your demands”, he replied. “Increased security, your own men guarding your rooms... name it and it shall be your” He took a bow in front of the lord, who visibly enjoyed the attention. “We value this alliance, Lord Selwyn”, the knight stated. “I know how this must have seemed, but be assured that me and my lord will do whatever necessary to convince you of our good intentions”

“Excellent”, Donnel Selwyn replied, but his expression remained hard. “Have your talk then. I shall wait for a little bit longer” Maron's smile returned, small, but genuine, as he turned back to Arthur and Rodrik. “I know not what business you're on, Sphynx, but I expect a full report by the end of the week”, he growled and Rodrik saluted in front of him. “Of course, Maron”, he promised. “Right now, we are here to speak to Erik about...”

“Right now, I want to speak with the Nathamer boy”, Maron interrupted him and once more, Arthur felt a cold shiver running down his spine. This man, while not necessarily his enemy, was dangerous and rotten if even half of what Sherryl had told him was true. He could not think of a single good reason why he would want to talk to a low guardsman such as him. Then again, neither had he been able to think of a good reason why the Sphynx would want to talk to him and this partnership had turned out surprisingly fruitful so far.

“I... I'm all yours, Ser”, he stuttered and Maron's smile widened. The knight made a wide wave with one hand, pointing at the walls. “Walk with me, boy”, he growled. “Been about time we have a proper talk” Though he was still limping, he was able to lead at a good pace, with Arthur walking by his side, as they approached the walls.

“What is this about, Ser?”, Arthur asked, as they reached the stairs. Maron stopped for a moment, glancing at the stairs with a mild frown, before grabbing his cane more tightly. “I realized I haven't yet offered my condolences”, he spoke. “I didn't know your father, but me and him, we were colleagues, so I owe him some respect” He glanced at Arthur, looking at him out of a single, green eye. “And I heard how well the people speak of him. From what I've seen, he's done admirable work here in Raylansfair. Kept this city in order better than I did in Oldtown”

“It's a smaller city”, Arthur brought up and Maron actually smiled at his comment. “Kind of you to say that”, he replied. “But it doesn't change the fact that the name Hackor Nathamer is revered in this city. A man willing to sacrifice whatever it takes to keep his people safe. I respect, no, I admire that” With two fingers on his free hand, he pointed at the eyepatch. “Made some sacrifices as well”, he added. “Though I haven't yet given up my life and between us, I hope that day never comes”

“We can't choose how we're going to die”, Arthur mumbled, as they reached the top of the stairs. From here, the city had a quaint beauty as it lay below them in the afternoon sun, even though there were still scars inbetween, ruins that hadn't been rebuilt yet, so shortly after the Ironborn raid. Last time that had happened, during the raid that had killed Arthur's mother, it had taken the people over a year to fully rebuild. “But knowing my father... I think this is how he wanted to go out. Spear in hand, fighting against the enemies of Raylansfair, saving his people to the bitter end”

“I regret I never got the chance to meet him”, Maron replied, leaning onto the battlements now. “I'm sure me and him would have agreed on a great many things” He was not looking at Arthur in this moment and the young man was glad about it, for he visibly flinched at these words. Thankfully, he managed to compose himself before Maron glanced over his shoulder and at him again. “You're a member of the city guard, so you may have noticed it already, but there's no love lost between me and your father's successor, this... Stratford”, he added. “Makes me wonder... you've been a member of the city guard for many years, you're Hackor Nathamer's son and yet you haven't even been considered to succeed him?”

“Commander Daemion has been my father's right-hand man for half a decade”, Arthur revealed. “Besides, it's not a hereditary position” Maron chuckled. “Aye, I know that all too well”, he admitted. “But I know that the commander has a certain say in who gets to succeed him. I'm a father myself, boy, so I know that urge to see one's child succeed in life. My son Yoreen, he's taking after me, which is really all a parent could hope for, but... I've realized years ago that the life of a city guard commander isn't for him. He's a soldier at heart and answers to a higher calling. A godly man through and through and war hero on top” He shook his head. “Still, had he ever asked me, made it clear that he wants to succeed me as commander of Oldtown's city guard, the title would have been his. I would have fought tooth and nail for that”

Arthur sighed, as he walked up, resting his arms on the battlements as the knight did. “My father had a different opinion”, he mumbled and to his surprise, Maron gave him a quick pat on the back. “Perhaps he didn't expect to die so soon”, he replied. “The way I see it though, perhaps the city needs a Commander Nathamer these days, now more than ever. Your father... the people speak of him as if he's some kind of symbol”

Instead of replying immediately, Arthur had to think about the armour which Berrick the blacksmith had fixed for him. It had been his father's once and now it was his and yet, Arthur couldn't bring himself to wear it, not yet. “Is this what you wish to discuss, Ser?”, he asked. “My father must have had his reasons, nominating Daemion as his successor instead of me. Perhaps he would have named me, had he lived for another ten years, but truth be told, I don't feel ready for it yet”

“That'll change, boy”, Maron claimed. “Besides, I heard you have succeeded with at least one big case already. Rumour has it that the Storm Princess sent you after the man who tried to murder her during the raid” This actually caught Arthur by surprise. He had been almost ready for the knight to try and win him over, but this... how could he know about this?

“I...”, he stuttered, before he cut himself off, staring at Maron Mullendore, completely dumbfounded for a second. The knight chuckled. “Now, don't look at me like this!”, he exclaimed. “I didn't mean to catch you off guard. I apologize” He flashed him a jovial grin. “I know you've been investigating that mess. Now, everyone knows I clashed with that mouthy brat. I couldn't care less for her, but I don't want another killer running free in my city. So, I gotta ask you directly... have you caught that whoreson?”

Arthur gulped and his silence was telling. Maron smirked and even though his expression was warm, downright affable even, there was something sharp in his gaze, a dangerous intelligence he had not seen before. “I know, I know...”, the knight continued. “Why am I so certain that the attacker was a man?”

“You don't think it was a man?”, Arthur asked and Maron shrugged. “I know that an acquaintance of mine has disappeared during the raid”, he replied. “A former associate, a woman named Sherryl. We've been loosely acquainted during my stay in Oldtown, but our split hasn't been amiable” He shook his head. “She's a dangerous and disturbed woman and last I heard, she's caused quite some trouble here in the city, a mess which me and my lord now have to fix”

“I... know her, yes”, Arthur admitted. “Do you think she's been behind this? That she tried to kill the Storm Princess?” Maron gave him a calm nod. “Aye, that's what I'm thinking”, he confirmed. “As I said, she is a deeply disturbed woman and I wouldn't put it past her to just flat out murder a woman whom she openly clashed with before” He sighed. “Once upon a time, I thought of her as a good and gentle woman”, he added. “But I'm afraid I'm just not that good with people, for I eventually had to see that she's nothing but a schemer, a sick woman who uses others just for her own gain” His one eye narrowed and his friendly smile faded immediately. “Worse than that, you cannot trust a single word out of her mouth, for she is a compulsive liar”, he growled. “And if there's a thing I hate, it's liars”

Arthur gulped. Slowly, he realized what the knight was trying to do here. He knew that Arthur had been looking for Sherryl, but he couldn't possibly know that he had actually found her and certainly could not even guess that she had revealed all of his secrets before taking her own life. But even though he was openly trying to claim the opposite, he was a smart man. He had to at least suspect it.

“I have been looking for her, yes”, Arthur confirmed. “I wasn't sure if she's actually the one that tried to kill Princess Argella, but... I've been suspecting it” Maron gave him a nod. “Good”, he growled. “Means you got the right instincts. Play your cards right and perhaps there will be a Commander Nathamer in this city again, one day soon” He pushed himself away from the battlements, standing straight right next to Arthur and up close, he was actually an impressive sight, despite the crippling injuries. “Just one questions remains, boy”, he added and his voice was sharp now. “Have you actually caught up with her? Do you know what happened to her?”

---

The Citadel... Kersea had been to Westerosi castles before. She had seen places dedicated to prayer and power and pleasure. Never before though had she been this close to a place entirely dedicated to learning. This was no mere library, but a palace, built not for one family, but for countless of students from all walks of life, men who were trying to understand and improve the world in ways no king could ever do.

And it was a stunning palace at that. Kersea couldn't stop admiring the pristine walls and the two massive statues that flanked the gates. A man and a woman with the bodies of great, winged beasts. Sphinxes, she realized, of the kind that were more common in the east. She had yet to see those statues in the rest of Westeros, but here they were, as tall as five men and as long as ten, flanking a massive, open gate.

Countless people were trying to enter, but Vitihho had warned them that getting inside wasn't that easy. At least it wouldn't be without the invitation he had arranged for. As it turned out, Archmaester Quent was willing to talk, despite the bad blood between him and Leonard. And with Vitihho's invitation at hand, no one stopped them as they moved past the masses of waiting supplicants, merely having to show the paper to one of the mildly interested guards.

“Close your mouth, will ya?”, Leonard muttered, though he sounded more amused and less hostile than usual. “You look as if you've never been to a place like this” Kersea rolled her eyes, though she followed his advice. “Not all have been born into splendour, Ser Constantine”, she replied. “The hut I've lived most of my life in would have fit into one of those sphinxes in its entirety”

Leonard's mocking smirk grew slightly thinner. “It's not as if my family is rich either”, he brought up. “My parents are courtiers. Landless nobility, essentially part of King Mern's household” He seemed to realize how weak of a defence this was and followed it up with a sigh. “Though I guess we didn't grow up in poverty either”, he admitted. “I've been tutored among some of Mern's minor grandsons and we've eaten on the far end of the king's table”

“Yeah, we both come from truly humble backgrounds”, Kersea replied, though her tone was calm and her mood was light. Ever since their misadventure down in the sewers, Leonard had mellowed. They were not friends, no, and she had no illusions that under different circumstances, he wouldn't have even considered the thought of working with her, but they had a common goal and there was no reason not to get along at least. And for what it's worth, Kersea had to admit that he wasn't as insufferable as he had seemed in the beginning.

“Ah, no way!”, a voice called out for them just then, as they stepped through the gates and into the small courtyard behind it. The building in front of them was by no means the tallest, but it was likely where supplicants had to register, so it was where they were heading towards, as a familiar sight caught her eye. Two men, approaching them quickly, one still a boy, the other middle-aged, the former thin and wiry, with a head full of brown curls, while the latter was stocky and pot-bellied, with a freshly waxed moustache and thinning, black hair.

“My friends, what leads you here?”, Magnus Silverstone exclaimed, a beaming, pearly-white smile on his face. His young assistant, Bennett was giving them an awkward wave, but remained otherwise silent. “I did not expect to see you again so soon”, Magnus continued, as he reached Leonard and Kersea, giving him an enthusiastic handshake, while bowing in front of her.

“Silverstone”, Leonard greeted him and if anything, he seemed mildly pleased to see these two here. For good reason as well, for Magnus and Bennett had been pleasant travelling companions. “You seem to have recovered nicely” Magnus chuckled, as he spread his arms. Before Leonard could back off, the illusionist had pulled him into a close hug, giving him a kiss on both cheeks. “All thanks to the two of you!”, he exclaimed.

The moment he turned to Kersea for another hug, she raised her arms to keep him at a distance. “I'm good, I'm good”, she was quick to reply, earning herself a joyful laughter from the illusionist. It was true, he had recovered well from his ordeal at the hands of Drake and Elias. The last few days had evidently been good for him and he was even wearing a fresh and well-tailored vest made of green silk. “My friends, you have saved our lives and we haven't yet had the chance to properly thank you!”, he stated. “Nonsense, Magnus”, Leonard replied. “We did not help you for a reward”

“Also, it's not like we had much of a choice”, Kersea mumbled beneath her breath. Truth be told, had it been up to her she probably wouldn't have gotten involved at all. Magnus and Bennett were decent people, yes, but not the sort she'd risk her life for. They weren't family, after all. “And yet, I owe you my life”, Magnus exclaimed. “Bennett too. Where I'm from, such a debt has to be repaid”

Leonard carefully mustered him from head to toe. “Perhaps the opportunity will come up”, he admitted. “You've stayed at the Citadel for the past few days?”, he asked and Magnus gave him a nod. “Yes, there's a maester here who owes me, so I've pulled a favour and secured a room for me and Bennett for a few weeks. I hope to expand my horizons here, so to say, learn a few new recipes for my mixtures and such. I also hoped to converse with the Archmaester of Magic, but the man seems to have left the Citadel for the time being”

“Rumour has it he's with the dragonlord now”, Bennett interjected and Magnus frowned. “Ah yes, the dragonlord”, he sighed. “Have you heard it too? Aegon Targaryen has declared war on the Reach. For the time being, he marches against Harren Hoare, but they say he has already amassed quite the following. A wayward Archmaester is one of the less colourful allies he has gained”

Targaryen... Kersea knew little of the man himself, but she had heard all sorts of nasty whispers about his father. Raenna had grown up in fear of the man, for his habit of killing Targaryen bastards was well-known. If Aegon was even half as cruel as Lord Aerion, then perhaps she should be glad her sister was far away from here.

“The war doesn't concern us for now”, Leonard replied. “Let him and Harren Hoare fight, for all I care. No matter who loses, I won't shed a tear for them” Magnus gave him a nod. “Yes, though all this talk about war is concerning”, he mumbled. “I'm not cut for this, so perhaps it is time to consider a return to Essos” He sighed and his smile returned, a bit smaller than before, but nonetheless genuine. “But enough about me! My friends, what brings you here?”

“Trust me, you don't want to know the details”, Kersea interjected and Leonard gave her a nod. “For now, we're here to talk to Archmaester Quent”, he added. Magnus glanced at Bennett, his smile growing mildly more confused. “The Archmaester of History”, the boy told him and immediately, Magnus' eyes widened. “Ah, of course, Archmaester Quent!”, he exclaimed. “I knew that, yes” There was something different in his voice now, a barely concealed interest. “Why, I heard the Archmaester is a busy man. All of them are, but the Archmaester of History... isn't he ninety years old?”

“Still, he'll receive us”, Leonard replied. “We have an... ally in the city who arranged for a meeting” There it was again, a brief hint of interest beneath Magnus' genuine smile. “Say, Leonard...”, he spoke up. “You say I don't owe you?” Leonard gave him a nod. “Yeah, we're good”, he told him. “We helped you out because it was the right thing to do”

“We're even then...”, Magnus mumbled and his smile widened. “My friend, then you surely wouldn't mind me asking for a small favour, yes? A really tiny one” Immediately, Leonard's expression soured and Kersea, who had suspected something like this, took a step closer. “What is it?”, she growled. If there was one thing she hated, it was being taken advantage of, but Magnus did not strike her as a bad man. At least she could hear him out.

The illusionist glanced at his young companion. “Bennett, could you go and fetch the siblings?”, he asked and Bennett gave him a nod. “Not sure if this a good idea, but alright”, he agreed, as he turned around. Magnus looked from him back to Leonard and Kersea, an almost apologetic smile on his face. “Trust me, this won't cost you a thing, but you'd be... how do yo say it in Westerosi... you'd be doing me a solid!”

“You're in debt?”, Leonard asked, glancing at the fine vest the man was wearing. Magnus gulped, before he gave him a sheepish nod. “It's not much, I assure you”, he stated. “But this ungodly raid back in Raylansfair and my... forced stay with Drake and Elias cost me a great deal. I need a few good shows to get back on track, but for those, I need supplies and I need new clothes, so that I can look the part. People don't want to see a ragged beggar doing little tricks here and there, but a far-travelled prince of the arcane?”

“We don't have any coin either”, Kersea hissed, even if this was not quite the truth. They had coin to spare, especially after their deal with Vitihho cost them nothing but a small favour, but she was not ready to just hand it away to this man. No, she did not consider him a bad man, but she knew his type and she'd never trust him with a single coin.

“Oh, it's not coin I need!”, Magnus was quick to assure her. “I got a loan already. Nice chap down at the docks, a man from Lorath. I'm sure I can pay him back after I get the shows running again” With these words, he placed a hand on the vest. “This however was a gift from a new friend I made here at the Citadel”, he spoke. “And that man doesn't need coin, but something I cannot give him. Perhaps you can though”

“A friend of yours?”, Leonard growled, his voice now oozing distrust and Magnus gave him a quick nod. “A chance encounter at the nearest tavern”, he admitted. “We've spent a night drinking, me and him and in the end, he took pity on me. The next day, he brought this radiant garment to my rooms, so that I could the part during my next show. Now, I don't owe him in the traditional sense and he has asked for nothing in return, but I still feel rotten at not repaying him. All you need to do to ease my concerns is listening to his plight and then you can decide for yourself if you wish to help him out”

“And if we don't want to?”, Leonard asked. Magnus shrugged in return. “Well, then I tried”, he sighed. “But let me say, this might be a good opportunity for you as well. My friend and his sister, they're highborn. A high lord's children, so perhaps being on good terms with them could come in handy for whatever you want to do here in Oldtown”

Just as he said these words, Kersea spotted Bennett leaving on of the buildings on the far end of the courtyard. He was followed by two people, a man and a woman, clearly siblings. The man was tall and broad-shouldered, though with smooth, youthful looks and a clean-shaven face, revealing soft cheeks and ashen-blonde hair, falling down to his shoulders, with half of it tied into a loose bun. Contrasting with these looks and giving him a certain edge was a deep scar on his left cheek, running up and barely missing the eye.

His sister was tall for a woman, but lean, especially in contrast to her brother. Where his looks made him seem boyish and soft, the very same features gave his sister an undeniable beauty. Her hair was darker than her brother's and longer, tied into a loose ponytail that fell down to her shoulder. While the man had fair skin, hers had a bit of a tan, the kind one would get from countless hours out in the sun.

Both were armoured, but unarmed, with the brother wielding a broad, empty scabbard by his side, while Kersea spotted two thin, leathery sheaths dangling from the sister's belt, hinting at two smaller blades. They wore yellow cloaks over their lean mail armour and as the sister briefly turned to glance over her shoulder, Kersea saw a sigil on them, three green leaves. The heraldry of the Reach was not her forte, but she had no doubt that Leonard would recognize it immediately.

“Magnus, my friend!”, the man exclaimed and his voice was as soft as his looks. And yet, from up close he was nonetheless an impressive sight. Ten years from now, or perhaps if he'd grow a beard, he would look downright fetching. “Your little companion sent for us. Said it's urgent, so we came as fast as we could”

He only now seemed to notice Leonard and Kersea, while his sister had done nothing but stare at them, quietly an calmly, but not hostile in any way. “Oh, excuse me!”, he added. “I didn't see you there. Don't want to interrupt on your conversation” His sister rolled her eyes. “We're obviously here for them, you dolt”, she spoke, but her tone was warm. “Perhaps you should use that head of yours for thinking instead of just looking pretty” She smirked, as she looked away from him and at Leonard and Kersea. “You can leave that to me”, she added, as she took a curtsy in front of them. Despite the light armour she was wearing, the move had a natural elegance to it and she clearly wouldn't have looked out of place in a lavish dress either.

“I'm Alicia, this is my brother Edwin”, she introduced herself and reluctantly, her brother gave them a nod. Leonard narrowed his eyes. “Oakheart?”, he asked and Alicia's smile widened, as she presented the sigil on her cloak. “Oakheart indeed”, she confirmed. “My brother is the son and heir of Devrin Oakheart and I'm... well, I haven't decided between perfect daughter and full-time disappointment yet”

Edwin Oakheart rolled his eyes. “We're Lord Oakhearts children, yes”, he interjected, as he gave Leonard a long, careful look. “I hope you don't mind me saying that, but you look familiar. Have we met before” Leonard hesitated for a moment and suddenly, he seemed visibly uncomfortable. “We have”, he then confirmed. “That was five years ago though. You were around... sixteen at the time?” He glanced at Alicia. “Which means you were thirteen or fourteen”, he added. “We haven't spoken, but I've regularly conversed with your father, delivered messages from the other lords of the northern Reach”

“Leonard Constantine!”, Edwin exclaimed. “By the Seven, it is you!” Now, he actually extended a hand, giving Leonard a firm handshake, uncomfortably firm if the knight's reaction was anything to go by. “What leads you here?” He let go of Leonard and though the knight was visibly caught off guard by someone recognizing him here, he handled the situation well and quickly, a charming smile formed on his face. Kersea meanwhile was all too happy with just blending into the background and watching their conversation. She was not used to being around highborn brats and though these two didn't seem hostile and lacked any sort of arrogance on their faces, she would gladly leave the talking to Leonard.

“I could ask you the same thing”, Leonard replied. “Old Oak's a hundred miles to the north. You're a long way from home” Edwin sighed. “Yeah, sometimes I'm asking myself the same thing”, he spoke. “My father sent us here. Don't ask me why, I'm hardly privy to his secrets. He wants us to meet one of the maesters here and bring him a sealed letter, but the dusty old fart leaves us waiting. We've been here for weeks now and still don't know when we can meet him”

“Archmaester Quent, to be precise”, Magnus interjected. Leonard clenched his fists. “What would Devrin Oakheart want with the Archmaester of History?”, he asked. Edwin shrugged. “Damned if I know”, he spoke. “We've been here for weeks and he knows we're waiting for him. My father has been adamant though, he needs to get in touch with Quent”

“Whatever it is, he trusted us with delivering it, instead of choosing a raven”, Alicia interjected. Magnus smiled at her, then back at Leonard. “My friend, you see now how you could help me out?”, he asked. “Me and these splendid people here. After all, you have a meeting scheduled with him already”

“You have?”, Edwin asked. “Seven Hells, I'm jealous” His sister let out a sigh. “You're not considering it, are you?”, she hissed. “Father told us to deliver the letter in person” Edwin shrugged. “Yeah, father also didn't tell us that we'd have to wait here for weeks just to see this precious maester in person”, he added. “Besides, this is Leonard Constantine! He's a knight and father knows him. Whom else could we trust, for crying out loud?”

“We could wait”, Alicia countered. “Don't take the easy way out, if we do that, the geezer wins” She shook her head, visibly unhappy with her brother's proposition, but Edwin was unmoved by her appeal. With a smile on his face, he turned back to Leonard and Kersea. “Ah, don't listen to her”, he growled. “I'm done waiting. Seven, I hate to ask, but... if you meet Archmaester Quent, could you give him my father's letter? We'll be in your debt”

“Our grandmother has been a Lannister, so we know a thing or two about paying those”, Alicia interjected, finally giving in to her brother's demand with a sigh of mild annoyance. “For the record, Edwin, if we get in trouble because of this, I'm going to punch you” Leonard seemed hesitant. “Your father is a man of honour”, he admitted. “But I don't know what his deal with Archmaester Quent is and if I want to play a part in it”

“You'd be in our debt, mylady?”, Kersea asked and Alicia looked at her as if she just now took notice of her. A genuinely pretty smile formed on her face. “Well, if my brother says so, then I suppose we will be”, she replied. “And you are...?” Kersea bowed in front of her, reluctantly so and Alicia immediately placed a hand on her shoulder. “No bowing”, she told her. “Makes me uncomfortable. And I'm not your lady, I'm just Alicia”

This was a surprisingly humble statement and Kersea accepted it at once. “Fine then, just Alicia”, she replied. “I don't have a problem with having Lord Oakheart's children in my debt. Question is, what can you do for us?” Alicia shrugged, but it was Edwin who spoke up again. “One good turn deserves another, as father taught us”, he replied. “He's given us coin, generously so, so if it's coin you want, then you shall have it”

“Or we could help you out”, Alicia added. “We don't know why you're here, but Oldtown can be dangerous. Perhaps you'll need another pair of hands or two” Edwin narrowed his eyes. “We could do that, yes”, he confirmed. “Usually I wouldn't offer this, but Ser Leonard is a knight, so I doubt he's going to ask anything unsavoury of us”

Leonard nodded in agreement. “You're right I won't. And I suppose it won't cost us to help you”, he admitted. “But I'm still not sure if we should get involved here. Not that I don't trust your father, but I don't want to get entangled in whatever he has to do with Quent” He glanced at Kersea. “What do you think?”, he asked. “Shall we help them out?”

[Claim that you haven't caught her]
[Agree to take Lord Oakheart's letter to Archmaester Quent]

[Claim that you haven't caught her]
[Agree to take Lord Oakheart's letter to Archmaester Quent]

Both of those choices are interesting to me, because they benefit one of the members of Petyr Vyrwel's inner circle, so I was pretty certain you'd pick the other option. Of course, Book 1 made it absolutely clear how dangerous lying to Maron Mullendore can be and there's no saying that Devrin Oakheart's letter to Archmaester Quent is in any way related to their scheme, althout it may be likely. Still, before checking your results, I would have been certain that you'd choose differently. I stand corrected then, but that's what I enjoy so much about writing the story

The next part will be out tomorrow! I apologize for the longer wait, but I haven't been at home much over the last week and a half, I've been helping a few elderly relatives of mine getting their Covid shots and making sure they don't suffer from any side effects. Luckily, it all went well! Perhaps one of these days, I'll be able to get vaccinated as well, but we'll see about that when the time comes. Between that, I have still managed to get some writing done and I'll be able to release the next part tomorrow. Unlike the previous parts, it will have only one PoV, because I could not think of another one that is thematically even remotely fitting. This next part will start Janae's storyline for Chapter 4, making her the first of the Essos PoV's to return. Her storyline this chapter will be the first time in a while I'm trying my hand at a proper horror story, because she's going to be in one of the most unsettling locations in Essos (which is really saying a lot). Last time we saw her, she had been staying at the fortified bridge outpost of Rowan Crios, a young woman whom Abbas was indebted to. To settle the debt, Rowan demanded that Janae, who is definitely the most skilled among Abbas and his group, accompanies some of her men on a dangerous expedition up the Rhoyne, into the ruins of Chroyane, once the most beautiful city of the Rhoynar empire, but now, several hundreds of years after a devastating war with the Valyrian Freehold, it has been reduced to a half-sunken ruin filled with rabid greyscale victims, the infamous stone men. Of course, Janae doesn't have much of a say in there. That same night, she was approached by Semsi the Slicer, one of the sellswords who guard Rowan's outpost. He offered to help her in her current predicament with Abbas, but only if she kills his commanding officer during this expedition, a man named Salazar Redwind, whose position he plans to usurp. Janae hasn't yet made up her mind about this, a sellsword she may be, but she's not a killer for hire and Salazar hasn't actually done anything to earn her anger. As such, she is quite conflicted about this, especially as she doesn't really trust Semsi with keeping his end of the bargain. Before leaving for Chroyane, she had the opportunity to tell Harpy about this offer as well and she decided to trust her with this knowledge. The next part will start several days later, just as Janae and her new allies arrive at the ruins of Chroyane.

[Go with Salazar]