章 269: 22
Skin having shriveled slightly to all the time I've spent in the by now cold bath I step out of the water, leaving a blackish sludge behind where slightly perfumed and clear liquid had been before. Shaking myself like a dog before grabbing a small towel I chuckle to myself, feeling somewhat human for the first time in weeks. It was truly a marvel how being clean elevated the mood while graying out the bad experiences I had accumulated since setting out from Rytherstone. There were still problems aplenty to face but they seemed much more manageable at this time.
I pause, a rueful chuckle escaping me as I shake my head. Well, one problem I would not be able to manage – clothes. I had not packed for war with the attention of attending a feast, leaving me without appropriate garments. It seems that my armor – freshly cleaned and oiled in the time I took my extended bath – would have to do. Not that I actually felt bad about it, court fashion offering no protection against being stabbed into the back. Considering the makeup of the nobles I would be joining soon I did very much not bank on common courtesy keeping anyone from a little bit of murder if the opportunity presented itself.
While it might be seen as bad form to attend a feast kitted out for battle I might actually get some use of it. Hopefully I would be seen as simply 'yet another barbarian', unable to survive in court and unknowing of the rules, leaving me to be underestimated. Well, not truly. I was not made out for courtly intrigue but all the more so I hoped to avoid any backstabbing that was sure to happen within the next few hours as nobles vied for position and other – less easily described – things.
Having finished putting on my armor I summoned a servant with a tiny bell that had been placed close to the tub for just this case. Following the skittish girl I am soon led to the great hall of Ten Towers and pause as I am announced and pass into the room, my gaze taking in as much as I can in the few seconds I could afford before moving to greet the king.
King Robert occupied the lord's seat right in the middle of the high table, laughing rapaciously at something the Blackfish was telling him. On the other side, to his right Eddard Stark looked at the gathering in silence, his expression guarded as his eyes moved from one face to the next. A fully armored Jamie Lannister glitters in the golden hues of his protective gear as he sips a glass of wine, looking bored out of his mind, even as a man in Hightower livery next to him continues to regale him with some tale he obviously couldn't care less about. Other notables on the High table include houses Velaryon and Rykker as well as Royce.
Who I expected to see up there but could not spot was the so-called High Sparrow, Petyr Balish.
Gaze moving around the hall I finally discover him in the corner furthest away from the table of lords, clad in the simple brown cloth robe of a lowly priest. He was breaking some bread and sharing it with a few men clad likewise, a tankard of what I think is watered wine sitting in the middle of their table surrounded by a dozen clay tankards. I cannot help but stare for a moment at the surreal sight before shaking myself out of it again, my steps resuming as I make for the king. I did not know if Balish was putting on a hellishly elaborate ruse or if he had really turned fanatical believer since the elder Stark brother had almost killed him in their duel almost a decade ago. Time would tell yet again, I supposed.
Arriving at the high table I bow low. "Your grace, well met. House Ryther joins the host as you bid and hopes for continued success in battle."
Robert, who was looking much more the warrior and less the sloth I expected, smiles widely and opens his arms in a grand gesture. "Welcome, Lord Darren Ryther! Blackhand! Ashbringer!", he replies with only a slightly slur to his words from the alcohol already consumed. "Join us in our celebration of recent victories! Come, sit at the high table and tell us of your journey! Rumors are unlikely to do it real justice."
"Neither will I in all likelihood, your grace.", I reply as sweat trickles down my back, a slight panic gripping my mind. Joining the high table was really the last thing I wanted to do. "I am no bard."
Robert verbally smacks down my escape attempt a moment later. "Bah. Those perfumed pansies get half their facts wrong anyway. I much prefer hearing everything from the source."
Resigned to my fate I move around the table, taking a quickly cleared spot not to my own liege lord, who I greet with an amiable nod, which is returned at once. "As you wish, your grace. Anything in particular you want to hear?"
"The fires of Blacktyde", he replies at once, a strange feverish gleam in his eyes which seem to almost glow with anticipation. "I have heard the song, now I want to know the details."
I grimace without intending to before schooling my features. "As you wish, your grace. Although the tale itself is far less grandiose than the song makes it out to be."
"Such is the prerogative of bards.", the king shrugs before waving impatiently. "Now quit stalling and get talking."
"Very well.", I mutter before taking a moment to sort my thoughts. "We arrived at the island of Blacktyde from Lonely Light. As before the thralls taken by the Ironborn flocked to our banners, reinforcing our numbers and making any resistance by house Blacktyde even more futile than it was anyway. We encountered no resistance until…"
Pausing for a moment I consider my course of action before quickly coming to a decision and forging on. Why not use the ear of the king as I held it, no?"
"We found a village, already burned to the ground in our path, the seven pointed star flying over a pile of corpses. Men, women and children alike. Someone else was obviously already on the island… and taking no prisoners, nor offering mercy."
I could see the king looking troubled while some other lords in hearing range looked indignant. Before anyone could interrupt I pressed on, needing to place my version of the story before anyone could get other ideas. "Searching for the brigands in question we found a battlefield on the nearby coast, corpses bearing the star strewn all around as some grounded ships still smouldered. Obviously there had been a battle by a few hours past. We did not find any survivors."
Taking a deep breath I continue to tie the truth into a bretzel. "The obvious party to have killed the Faith Militant were the men of house Blacktyde, so we pressed on and soon assaulted their city after demanding their surrender and only getting arrows in return. The town walls proved to be insufficient to hold back the rage of the former thralls, decades of slavery having made them in berserkers in all but name. Oh, they paid a bloody price for their hate but could not have cared less as long as their tormentors were put in the ground as well."
The battle replays before my eyes as I continue to talk. "We captured the town but could not assault the castle, lacking siege equipment worth the name. So I had the smallfolk driven out and set the town on fire after offering the Blacktydes two more chances of surrender, neither coming close enough to voice it before being shot at. After the third try I had done everything I could and more than honor demanded to force a peaceful surrender... and set the town on fire."
The hall had grown silent as I continued with my tale even though I hardly noticed, my mind being far away. I could almost smell the ash and sot that had invaded my nose as we moved through the burned husk of the town a day later, finding the castle turned tomb in its middle unharmed but empty of life.
"We entered the castle the next morning, finding no living thing inside. The fire had never crossed the castle's walls but the smoke had touched everything mortal within. From the oldest greybeard to the smallest babe, from some cows to the last raven chick. Everything had died and we moved through their tomb."
Taking a deep breath I again center myself before turning my attention halfway to the hall, which I now noticed was watching my every move. "The song many of you know copped up the very next day. War is a brutal thing and I did what I had to do. The next time I am standing below a lord's wall, asking for parlay, I hope to be at least heard before battle is joined."
Silence greets my proclamation and I lean back, having finished my tale.
"You are no storyteller, Ryther. Gods, that was depressing.", grunts Robert and I smile slightly. "I warned you, your grace."
He agrees easily with a rueful chuckle. "So you did. So you did… Say, could you ever find out more about the reasons behind the actions of the faith on Blacktyde?"
I shake my head. "No. Corpses do not tell any tales and we found no other members of the Faith on the Island. There might have been more of course but we did not encounter them or found traces of their presence."
"Shame.", he grunts before throwing a barely hidden glance at the far right corner. "The Faith had my blessing to act as advanced scouts and to keep the Ironborn busy on their islands with whatever vessels their believers could procure, legally mind you. Massacring the islanders to the last was not part of the deal and only makes ending this war harder. I do not need an enemy fighting to the last."
Massaging his head he turns slightly to me, the wry smile returning. "You have the right idea of it, offering surrender. Always give an enemy a way out even if it is a painful one. Corner a rat too much and it will fight to the last. We do not need that."
"No, we do not.", I agree easily. "If the rumors I've heard on the way here are correct then the Ironborn are already beaten, having lost their most powerful asset with the Iron Fleet. What remains is mopping up the tatters of their ambitions, bloody as it might be."
Robert musters me, suddenly assessing the person before him anew as he waves me to go on, and I feel a shiver pass down my back. Had I overstepped? I notice the other lords look at me likewise and the shiver becomes a sudden cold. Here I am, wanting to avoid the notice of high nobles, and what do I do? Analyzing the war where it was neither demanded nor needed. Stupid! Still, I could hardly step back now without losing face, so I continued. For good or ill.
"The Reach hosts, both of them, will likely go directly for the throat and assault Pyke. I expect them to at the very least weaken Balon enough for any force coming afterwards to easily take care of him. They might even take the castle and put the self proclaimed king of salt and rock to the sword before anyone else can interfere."
"And? Should there be interference, Ryther?", asks the king, eyes intent.
I swallow and hide my shaking hands beneath the table. "That depends on what you wish to do with the islands in the future. If you simply want them broken then no, either the Tyrells or the Florents will see to that if they manage to take the castle. Whatever conditions they impose will likely be brutal considering the recent losses, which will make the islands less than hospitable for mainlanders for decades to come… but it will keep them from being a credible threat beyond their islands. I predict a constant low level war in this case."
I take another deep breath before continuing. "If you want some sort of stable if uneasy peace in the near future, then yes, you should likely interfere. Break house Greyjoy, kill Balon to set an example, set up one of his younger children as future Lord Reaper and have him raised by a castellan you trust. Send the dissenters to the wall or the block. Also, removing the future lord from the islands to foster him elsewhere might seem prudent but the Ironborn will likely not accept a lord raised by `Greenlanders´, as they like to call us. This way the Ironborn will recover in time but they might – might – do it in a way that just may be useful to the greater kingdom in a decade or three instead of being a net drain on resources."
Robert hums in thought as he continues to gaze at me for a long moment before his eyes move to the Lord Paramount of the North sitting next to me. "A useful man you have here, Ned. Any chance that you will send him south?"
I feel a sudden vertigo and only just manage to keep my panic from showing on my face, moving south being the absolute last thing I wanted to do. With all the attempts on my life that had happened even in the relatively secure north I would not last a month south of Moat Caillin. Even if I brought along a few hundred guards I did not like my chances of avoiding poison and other means of assassination for long. Not to mention me being a believer in the old gods – was it really believing if you knew that gods were a thing? - in a land where being so turned out to be more and more unhealthy.
"I have need of him in the North, Robert. No stealing my bannermen.", replies the Stark lord at once in a dry and long suffering tone. I have never been more grateful to anyone. Having dodged the bullet I sank deeper into my chair, sipping from some ale that had been placed in front of me at some point, trying to hide my reaction.
"A shame", grunts the king before turning to the Blackfish and starting up another conversation, leaving me off the hook. I breathe a deep sigh of relief, which is noticed by the amused Stark lord.
"I hear congratulations are in order.", he starts up and I look at him in confusion. "They are?"
"A girl this time. Congratulations."
A true smile spreads across my face at the first bit of news from home I had in months. And what news!
"Mors will be happy as well. His first grandchild.", I muse, a bright smile still on my face. "Anything else you can share?"
Eddard Stark, having been demoted to messenger pigeon, smiles indulgently at me. "Your wife got through the birth well enough and your retainers seem to handle your lands well, despite the recent flood of refugees you send to Blackport yet again. Do you want to out-populate Whiteharbor in some bid for supremacy?"
The last part was added only half seriously, so I answered likewise with a wide smile showing the jest. "How would I be able to compare otherwise, my lord? I have neither the ships, nor the economic or military might. Numbers will have to do even if I have to steal them from elsewhere."
Eddard Stark snorts and shakes his head. "Do not even think this too loudly, for it might be taken at face value by those listening in despite common courtesy telling them not to."
I notice some shuffling around us but none admits their deed up front, so I simply continue as if nothing had happened in the first place. "Coming back to the war… I cannot help but find myself curious why the Faith Militant has been allowed to persist and even attend this feast. With my recent experiences and the, ah… shipping… I had to do before the war, I feel myself less than positively inclined to their presence."
"Practical concerns, Ryther", growls Robert from a seat over, jumping into the conversation again with a sour look on his face. "Believe me, if I could I would have done away with them long ago. Sadly they have the numbers and connections to be a real pain in the ass. Something that would have been a great annoyance before the war and is even more of a headache now. It does not help that many a noble – regardless of origin – is following their doctrine or even sending younger sons to be part of their order of… paladins, I think they call them."
"You are the king, your grace. If you wish them to disband, they will. One way or another.", jumps in the Hightower lord two seats down the line, having obviously been listening in. We turn to him in an eerily synchronized motion, throwing looks of incredulous pity at him.
"King I might be, Hightower. All powerful I am not.", grunts Robert and I struggle to connect the reasonable man before me with the person portrayed in the books, who had been prone to bursts of fancy and far less tolerant to things he could not do or accomplish easily. At the same time my mind is racing, trying to figure out why the Reach lord – the only one in the hall – would inject himself into the conversation. A question that is thankfully answered only a moment later.
"Even if you are not, your grace. You have enough allies to see your will done. The might of the seven kingdoms follows your edicts, just as the Starry Sept supports your governance."
I nod to myself. Ah, of course. The Hightowers had the 'real' head of the Faith in their domain, who likely was less than happy with the power the High Sparrow had accumulated. He was likely fearing for his influence and easy life at the very least, maybe even for his life itself. Power struggles within the church, just what we needed to really kick the continent down the abyss it had been teetering on for years. Shaking myself out of my thoughts I find the Hightower lord scowling a little but silent, Robert having replied something I had obviously missed. Mentally kicking myself for getting distracted I refocus on the conversation.
"… not that easy. Outright disbanding them will lead to civil war with all the lords invested in their existence. Curtailing them and using their numbers ahead of the main force will have to do for now.", Robert mutters while spearing the meat on his plate with a vicious motion, his knife almost sinking through it and into the table.
"Not disbanding them might do likewise.", I sigh before I can stop myself and have yet again the attention of the table, Robert waving me to continue while Eddard Stark raises his eyebrows at my action. The Lord Paramount did not seem to disapprove but he also seemed to be less than amused by the direction the discussion was taking.
"The Faith Militant is driving out many that do not live in a way that conforms to their way of thinking. For now that is mostly focused on the believers of the old gods. But will it stay this way? What about the Dornish, reluctant members of the seven kingdoms as they may be? They do not all follow the seven. Will the Faith be content to see the old gods north of the Neck? Or will we see another crusade within our lifetimes? No, I think the sooner they lose power, the better the kingdom will be off in the long run."
"Why should they fight the North, Ryther?", inquires the Blackfish from Robert's other side. "They have no reason to."
"Since when does fanaticism need reason?", I counter easily, earning an approving grunt from the king and my own lord. Pausing for a moment I make a decision that might just dig the hole I found myself in since entering the hall all the deeper. Nonetheless I forged on, hoping somewhere in the back of my mind that I would never again find myself in such a situation once I left the room after the feast.
"The so-called High Sparrow, Petyr Balish, has also a personal stake in seeing the North brought low and into the fold. Kicking and screaming if needed. I do not think he will try to stop a crusade, encourage it more likely."
Eddard Stark straightens at once, focusing completely on me. "And what personal matter would this be?"
"Your wife, my lord.", I reply softly. "It is rumored that Lady Catelyn has been his focus since childhood, going so far as to fight your elder brother for it. He lost, of course. That does not mean though that he let the matter die with almost losing his life due the wound suffered in the duel. No, like a festering wound his desire is said to have a stranglehold on his soul, driving him ever onwards."
"Her `dear friend` would do such a thing despite the pain it would bring her?", he asks, a long held suspicion blossoming into full blown paranoia in the gaze of the Lord Paramount.
I nod. "Whatever it takes, I suspect. While your wife would – of course – do nothing to aid or encourage him, his words are sure to be poison in her ears. To what end I do not know."
"Oh, I know.", Eddard Stark growls, expression dark enough to send a shiver down my back. "I will need to send a letter or three, it seems."
He stands up slowly, nodding to the king. "Robert, I have matters to take care of and won't be good company for the rest of the evening. Excuse me."
Robert waves him off magnanimously and he moves off before hesitating. "Lord Ryther, please come along. We have things to discuss."
With a glance at the nodding king I stand up as well, making my excuses before following Lord Stark out of the hall and to his rooms, passing half a dozen guards wearing Stark livery on the way. In his room he sits down and starts writing at once, only paying attention to my presence again once he had written and sent off three.
"Lord Ryther, why is it that I hear of your suspicions only now? These matters should have been brought to my attention much earlier."
That he did not use my first name did ring a lot of alarm bells in my mind but I was less than surprised, having known that this conversation would not be far off from the moment I started to mouth off in the throne room.
"Because they are only rumors and not confirmed truths, my lord. It all came together for me as I learned the High Sparrows identity shortly before landing on Blacktyde. I did not have the opportunity to present my findings in the short time since my arrival.", I reply warily and continue as his face remains expressionless. "Back there I only voiced my suspicions because I saw an opportunity to advance the North's interest at little cost other than making another enemy to me personally."
"And you know what is in the North's interest, hm?", Eddard Stark inquires coldly, causing me to swallow dryly. "Do not presume to know best, Ryther. You are my bannermen and report to me first. Before you bring something like this up in front of the king, you WILL INFORM ME!"
He was all but screaming in rage at me at the end of his sentence and I did the only thing I reasonably could in this situation.
"Yes, my lord. It will not happen again."
I metaphorically rolled on my back and showed my throat for the bigger predator to rip out at his leisure, recognizing that I had overstepped something fierce. He looked at least a little mollified at the reaction, grunting as he sat down behind the room's desk.
"See that it doesn't, there will be no third time for something like this. Otherwise I will reconsider Roberts request and see how you fare south of the Moat. I will not have my bannermen bypassing me just because it seems convenient. You might not have the full picture at times, causing damage where you only sought to help. In this case however I believe you actually did the North a favor, which incidentally is the only reason we are talking as we are. Now...report to me in Detail what you know and suspect of the Faith Militant, their actions and their motives. Leave nothing out."
I started talking at once, speaking about my suspicions about the Faith's involvement in the northern bandit problems and the assassination attempts on myself. The connection I speculated to be present between Lady Catlyn and Balish and the results – like the strained marriage of Lord Stark – I could imagine hailing from it. The well hidden but present grudge against all things Northern I could see if I looked at the man and his past. His dangerous level of influence and use of religious dogma to get where he currently was. The rumors of him seeing chaos as a ladder, always aiming for the top while never getting directly involved.
Nearly an hour I spoke and Lord Stark's face grew dark indeed at my words. Finally, after I had ended, his voice reached my ears, breaking a strained silence that had seemed to stretch into infinity after I had spoken my part. For me it almost sounded as if he was thinking aloud, not really aware of my presence any longer as his gaze turns absent in deep thought.
"There is a lot of work to be done. The lords close to the Moat have been informed to reinforce the castle, raising the garrison to nearly 2.000 men at all times. No septs beyond those already present in the North will be permitted to be built. I will not persecute those praying to the Seven but I will not encourage them either. After this sorry business with the Ironborn is done with, we will return home and stay out of southern intrigue. If the High Sparrow wants to assault us he will have to cast the first stone. The Kings of Winter have stood against all comers for thousands of years, this will be no different."
He then turns to me directly, gaze focussing slightly. "You, though, will have to leave in a hurry. The Sparrow will be aiming for you after this feast and I do not intend to present them a target."
Leaning back slightly he looks at me thoughtfully. "Now then. As you are not shy to present your analyzing skills in front of the king, tell me what to do with a troublemaker such as yourself?"
I take a few seconds to think before opening my mouth to answer, knowing that my reply just might be taken the wrong way if I were not careful.
"Send me and mine back north, Milord."
"Explain.", comes the instant reply, Lord Stark assessing me anew as I proposed to simply leave the war behind.
"The rebellion is all but crushed.", I state confidently and take a deep breath before continuing. "If the Reach forces do not put Balon into the ground then it will not take another 25.000 men to see to it. Sending me home after the feast will seem as a punishment to many, having aired truths nobody wants to hear in polite company."
"It will appear as a reward.", counters the Lord Paramount easily.
I shake my head slightly. "Only for those knowing that I recently had a daughter born to me. And most will not care at all with me being a minor lord of no real importance."
"Do not undersell yourself, Ryther. You have come a long way and many an eye rests on what you do. It will appear as a reward.", reaffirms the man across the desk from his earlier statement.
"Sending a warrior home just on the eve of a battle promising honor like nothing else in the last decade? Sure, some might see it that way. Most will not."
"Honor...", Lord Stark muses and looks upwards, deeply troubled. "Such a small word for such a complicated thing. There has been a time I might argued the point but I have changed a lot since my childhood, as is well and proper. Very well, let us assume it is seen as a punishment… what use would it be to weaken myself in relation to the other lords at the very end of the war?"
Having won a minuscule victory I move on to explain my logic further. "You will seem the lord that is not shy to punish a bannerman that oversteps, increasing your influence with like minded lords and making an example before others could dare to step out of line. At the same time it is only a light punishment in truth even though some might see it as more grave than it is."
Taking another deep breath, I go for the kill. "In addition it will remove a lot of troops from the battlefield, which might be of use at a later point in time. If the crusade I predict appears within our lifetime then it would be good to lose as few men as possible in this pointless rebellion. They will be needed later. The additional manpower will also help the North in times of peace, should the Faith be more reasonable than I predict."
Lord Stark stays quiet for a long moment, mulling over my words. "You are aware that you would be going alone, yes? Only taking your men and the freedmen along? I have no reason to punish the lords close to you and it would appear curious why I would be doing so."
"Aye, I know.", I agree easily, knowing that I would have some explaining to do with my group of lords if this got actually off the ground. Was I daring enough to actually call it a fraction? I just might, considering all we had done together and the bonds forged in battle. Gods, we even lived right next door if one did not count Mors, who wasn't the lord of house Umber anyway. Adding Bryle to the group would be easy. Losing the train of thought I refocus on Lord Stark as he speaks up again.
"Very well. You will be leaving tomorrow, taking your men and the freed thralls with you. Before heading home you will move for Seaguard, picking up those unfortunate souls that have yet to find a passage north. I will also hand you some letters to be delivered by messenger once you arrive back North. Messenger, mind you, not raven. For this a more lengthy letter will be required. Send them guarded, I do not wish them to be waylaid before reaching the recipients."
"Yes, my lord. Anything else?"
"Aye. Do not start any more shit before consulting me first. Are we clear?"
I smile somewhat guiltily as I nod. "We are clear, my lord."
"Good. Begone than… and remember our last meeting as well. I expect there to be some bannermen of your own the next time we speak"
"As you command, my lord. Farewell.", I reply and take my leave with a small bow. Ten minutes later I am in my room again and only then I allow myself a shuddering breath as I lean against the cold stone. That could have gone way worse but even so I did not regret speaking up before the king. The seeds of doubt had been planted, just as I had intended.
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