Chapter 11: One Arrival and One Departure
Disclaimer:
I don't own the characters or the world appearing in this story, they are creations and property of the fantastic George R. R. Martin. I'm not sure if I can claim my OCs as my own, so I'll play it safe and dedicate them to GRRM.
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Author's Note:
Hello all!
Thank you for gracing me with your presence yet again. This chapter contains a little information on Harry's time at Oldtown since their arrival and also on Howland's departure. It's a slow chapter, nothing exciting happens. It's just a whole lot of subtle setups. Hope you like it.
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[Year - 293 AC]
Harry stood at the edge of the river Honeywine as he gazed at Hightower. The tower stood on the Battle Isle, a small island right in the middle of the river where it widened into the Whispering Bay.
The tower was impressive, to say the least. Harry had not yet visited the Wall, but this tower was supposedly taller. Although, Harry had already seen Casterly Rock, which was much– much taller than this tower. And unlike Hightower, Casterly Rock was also better defensible. Harry wondered what their plan was if they were ever pushed to take refuge in the tower. The thought of it made him uneasy. There seemed to be no path to escape or retreat, as the tower was situated right in the middle of the river. Maybe that's why Manfred Hightower had been persuaded so easily to concede against the Targaryens.
With a deep breath, Harry turned away from the tower. It was the crack of dawn and it was glorious. Honeywine kept salt water away from the bay and kept the water clean by washing away any filth that made it into the water. Harry could almost see the bottom of the Whispering Sound.
Merchants were already setting up stalls at the markets, fishermen were prepping their boats, trade ships were getting ready for departure and drunk men were finally leaving to do whatever they did when they weren't drunk.
However, the hustle and bustle of the city hadn't yet begun in all its glory. Oldtown was not the richest city of Westeros just in name. In the past week of his stay at Oldtown, he'd seen just how crowded the streets could get. It seemed almost alive at times, with the constant movement of people. From high above, it looked as if the city itself was moving. He'd seen it himself after all. When he visited the Hightowers.
He took yet another long breath. The air really was perfect at this time of day.
Ser Wendel, who'd been standing a little farther away motioned towards the inn. "He must be ready by now, don't you think?"
"I suppose so," Harry said, "I might as well go in now."
Howland was leaving today.
Over the past week, they'd completed whatever they had to do. Also, since the day before, Harry had started attending lectures at the Citadel.
Howland had wanted to stay for a week more, just to make sure everything was right, but Harry had convinced him.
Walking back into the inn, Harry nodded at the soldiers bustling about.
"Where's Lord Reed?" He asked the nearest one, who pointed him to a door.
Entering the room, he saw Howland rummaging through his bag.
"Ready for the journey, Howland?" Harry asked, walking to him.
"Just about," came the answer. In a clipped tone.
Howland was still a little irate it seemed. "I've decided to send some of my men with you, Howland. For safety. How about Ser Wendel?"
Howland spun around to face him. His face had a look of shock etched in it as if Harry had just asked to sacrifice his firstborn. "What!!"
"I'm jesting, Howland, how upset are you to not see that," Harry said, smiling.
Howland sighed, "It's not that I'm upset Harry, but it's only been a week and–"
"–and everything's fine," Harry interjected, his tone firm. Howland scowled at him.
"It truly is," Harry persisted. "I have a place to stay, loyal guards to protect me, and enough books to last me a lifetime. What more could I require?"
"What if you need assistance and I'm not here to provide it?" Howland quipped.
"Then Ser Wendel will take care of it. And I don't need assistance for every small hassle, I'm not very fragile as you may have noticed."
Howland looked like he wanted to say more and Harry gave him a look daring him to say otherwise.
Finally, with a shake of his head, Howland acquiesced. "It's just...I made a promise to Ned, and it feels as though I am departing without fulfilling my duty."
"You have fulfilled your duty and more, Lord Reed," Harry reassured him, his voice carrying a soothing tone.
"I fervently hope so, my lord," Howland replied, turning his attention back to his bag.
"There is no need for hope, Lord Reed. I am certain of it," Harry replied with conviction.
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Harry sat by the inn entrance as he scratched Moony's neck. Howland's men were securing the horses of their supplies and they were very nearly done. Harry had decided to skip the lectures at the citadel in favour of seeing them off. He'd go in later to read a few books.
Over the week, the people in and around the inn had gotten familiar with the presence of Moony around Harry. People would still take a second or even a third take when they noticed him, but there were hardly any crying children these days. Moony's diminutive viciousness helped as well. In fact, he could see some children eyeing him right now. He sent them a smile, which startled them in turn, making them scuttle away.
Harry spent a few more minutes gazing at all the activity in the streets when Howland headed out with his bag. The packing was finally complete.
"So this is it, eh…Lord Reed?" Ser Wendel said, clasping Howland's hands.
"We'll meet again, Ser Wendel," Howland replied, clasping the man's forearm.
Breaking away, they both turned towards Harry. He'd snuck up on them, unnoticed, while they bid each other.
Howland extended his arm towards him, gesturing to shake his hand.
Harry looked at the extended hand and lifted his head up to gaze into Howland's eyes. He detected a lingering sense of regret in them.
In the months since they had first met, the man had assumed a fatherly role in Harry's life, not unlike that of Ned. Harry had never spent a lot of time with Ned, and hardly any time was spent between them for idle chatter. Ned was quite busy with his duties and even without them, he had his own children to attend to. Harry's innate maturity and independence had often afforded him the solitude he needed. Yet there were moments when he didn't need solitude.
Harry clasped Howland's hand and drew him close, enveloping the man in a heartfelt embrace. Howland gasped in surprise. "Harry!"
Ignoring Howland's initial stiffness, Harry held on tightly. "Thank you, Howland, for– for everything," he said, his voice filled with gratitude.
Howland relaxed somewhat, but he still felt it inappropriate. Harry could feel it in his demeanour. Harry stifled a chuckle at the thought of how well he'd come to understand the man.
"It was my duty, Harry," Howland said, remembering their conversation from earlier.
"And you went above and beyond," Harry remarked, stepping back.
Howland was feeling emotional as well, Harry could see it. Stepping away, Howland quickly walked to his steed. Harry wondered what the man was feeling but he controlled himself from taking a look. The man has earned his privacy.
By the next minute, Howland's party had all mounted their horses and were ready to begin their long journey.
"Remain vigilant and keep safe, my lord. I will look forward to the day we meet again," Howland said. His voice had a weary note to it. Not at all how a journey should begin.
Harry paused, taking a moment to weigh the pros and cons.
He turned to his direwolf, "Moony, I want you to accompany Howland on his trip. Keep him and his men safe."
There were men from three factions of the North present, and all of them spun towards him in shock. Some were gaping.
"Harry!" "What!" Howland and Ser Wendel exclaimed in unison.
Harry had become quite good at making people exclaim these days.
"I've seen the looks he's been getting from the small folk, It's not wise to make myself look threatening," Harry said a little forcefully before either of them could complain.
Moony had served his purpose in keeping him safe during the journey but now, having a direwolf would interfere with the more clandestine activities he had yet to perform. Anytime someone spots a direwolf they would immediately map it back to him.
Harry's objective was to gain a foothold in Southern politics and establish connections, subtly, rather than displaying overt strength. And at the end of the day, having a direwolf for a mount is just that, a display of strength. Just like the dragonlords of old.
His companions protested vehemently, but Harry silenced them with a stern glare. "I ask very little of you, Howland. So when I do request something, please get it done."
Howland was a little shaken by the tone but quickly gathered himself. "Should I take him back to Winterfell?"
"That won't be necessary," Harry said. "I reckon there'll be a party heading to Winterfell soon after you reach your keep."
"A party?" Howland questioned.
"You'll find out soon enough. Let me keep my secrets," Harry quipped, attempting to lighten the sombre atmosphere that had descended upon them. He disliked forcing those who were loyal to him.
Howland nodded as he moved to mount his horse.
"Take care of him, please," He said to Ser Wendel before turning to Harry. "Keep safe, my lord."
"I will. May the gods watch over your journey, Lord Reed. Old and new," Harry replied.
With a nod, Howland pulled the reins. His men followed after him as they departed Oldtown. Moony gave Harry a bump, one last time, before following after them.
Harry stood there, seeing the party leave for quite some time.
Ser Wendel laid a hand on his shoulder. Harry looked up to meet the man's eyes. The man said nothing, just gazed at Harry.
Giving the man a weary smile, Harry turned back to the inn. "I might as well go to the Citadel for some reading."
"I'll accompany you, my lord," Ser Wendel replied.
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Harry lingered for a lot longer than usual at the library. Whether it was to do with Howland's departure or his interest in the book, Harry did not know. The book he'd been reading had a collection of accounts on the demise of Valyria. Hence, it had kept Harry suitably invested.
Closing the book and replacing it on the shelf, he stood to leave. Glancing around he saw a few acolytes still milling about, so it couldn't be terribly late.
He'd already sent Ser Wendel ahead of him to the inn. He'd been fidgeting about as Harry read his books, and Harry could only take so much of the fidgeting.
Leaving the inn he walked through the bustling streets, making his way back to the inn. He walked through the labyrinth of crisscrossing alleys. He'd walked around quite a bit over the week, and It was during these walks that he could truly feel the age of the city.
The streets were paved with cobblestone which was fortunately dry currently. But he could imagine it being difficult to walk in them during monsoon. The cobblestone also added to the look of the city. It reminded him of black stone, which is said to be used for building the foundation of Hightower, similar to the roads of old Valyria. There was even some discourse on the city's founders having originated from Valyria.
Walking through the alleys, Harry kept an eye on the various people walking about. His aim was not just to look at them, but to skim their minds of any gossip worth knowing. As he walked along, looking into their thoughts, one particular thought stood out. He quickly spun around to the man he'd gotten it from and glared at him. The man– or the pickpocket's eyes widened. He quickly scurried away, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.
Turning back with a smirk, Harry continued walking.
Right as he neared the street leading to his inn, he heard some commotion. It was a tavern right at the front of the street leading to his inn. There was a man, probably around five to six years older than him, who was bothering the people inside. This wasn't exactly surprising with drunk people but Harry's eye caught the way people were reacting to him. Even though the man was causing enough disturbance to affect business, the bartender wasn't being too aggressive against him. He was trying to send him out but wasn't being violent or too forceful.
His interest peaked, Harry walked into the tavern to enjoy the spectacle.
"Buy me one more…and I just might leave you alone," the drunk man slurred to his companion, who was sat at the bar. The drunk's companion had a single link on his chain, identifying him as a newly turned acolyte.
"Please…Please just let me drink in peace," the acolyte begged.
At this point, the bartender was just standing nearby with a shifty expression. He was looking around every few seconds as if he was waiting for someone.
A quick look into the bartender's mind gave him the identity of the drunk. Leo Tyrell, son of Moryn Tyrell.
Harry was honestly very amused.
Moving forward, Harry slapped some money on the bar. "A jug of red for the blond man."
The bartender looked at him in confusion, but his eyes lit up as he processed the words. He quickly exchanged the money for a jug, probably afraid that Harry would change his mind and take the money.
Harry motioned for Leo to come to him and gestured to the wine. The acolyte looked at him with confusion and a little gratitude.
"Who are you?" Leo asked, squinting through his half-lidded eyes.
"Just a novice, my lord," Harry smiled.
Leo just kept squinting at him for a few moments, his drunk mind trying to process the information. Harry wondered if he could even see through those half-lidded eyes.
However, after a few moments, Leo picked up the jug and walked away without a word.
Harry's gaze followed his back as Leo stumbled across the tavern to a gambling table before settling down with the gamblers.
Taking one last look at Leo, Harry left the tavern.
If this is the man that Lady Olenna expected to keep an eye on him, then Harry could enjoy free reign at Oldtown.
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Author's Note:
So, what did you think of the chapter?
I started with an introduction of Hightower with some information on Harry's time here at Oldtown. I hope I did a decent job.
Most of the chapter concentrated on Howland's departure. I really wanted to focus on his relationship with Harry and how it's changed and evolved over the duration of their travel. Hence, I took some time to write the departure properly.
For those of you who don't know who Leo Tyrell is, here's an explanation. He's Moryn Tyrell's son and Moryn is Olenna's brother-in-law. So Leo is basically Mace Tyrell's cousin although he's a lot younger. I gave a hint in the last chapter, and this here is the payoff. In canon, Leo is at the Citadel in 'A Feast for Crows' but I'm not sure if he's supposed to be at the Citadel at this point in time. I'm taking a few liberties here, let me know if I screwed something up big time, so that I can claim 'Alternate Universe', the end all be all of fanfiction.
I also want to thank Mitch, Kelley, Jack and Andrew for taking me on as patrons. Thank you for the support guys.
That's all for now. I'll meet you in the next chapter.
Consider Patreon if you wanna support. It is ahead by a few chapters.
patreon.com/MoonyNightShade
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