Chương 97: 28
Chapter Twenty Eight
Eastwood
Mid 61 AC
One Week After King's Judgement
"Well what are we waiting for? Let's get on with it," groused Brynden as he took a sip of whisky from his mug.
"Just a minute uncle, I'm just waiting on Serwyn to join us," Aelon replied as he rounded the corner of the table to pick up another jug of whisky from the bar. Poor lad. With the amount of whiskey they had consumed this past week, they were sure to run Eastwood's cellars dry soon.
Seated around the table, was the new power bloc of the Stormlands. Errol, Tarth, Eastwood and the Regent of House Baratheon. Garon stood at the forefront of their little alliance, but even he knew, he stood as Regent due to the efforts of the Lords seated at this table.
Ten years ago, if anyone had told Brynden that he would stand as the pivot of an alliance that now dominated the northern Stormlands, and soon enough, the entirety of the Stormlands, Brynden would have spat at that man's face and declared him touched in the head. And yet, here he stood, on the verge of securing the future of Tarth for centuries to come.
"My apologies for the tardiness my lords," said Serwyn as the lad entered the room, "I was held up by certain other matters of importance."
"More important than meeting with your Lord Uncle and the Regent?" grumbled Adam from the side.
"The emissary from House Buckler was creating some last-minute impediments with regards to the weregild due to House Errol and Eastwood. I felt it necessary to nip that particular problem in the bud lest the other Houses get the notion that they too can follow his example," said Serwyn flatly but with a hint of steel in his tone. Adam's face flushed as he nodded along at that, slightly flustered, but nonetheless agreeing with the man's reasoning.
Pride swelled in Bynden's chest at that. Pride, with a healthy dose of shame and regret. The lad had grown into a fine young man. By all accounts, he was not only competent and trustworthy but driven and intelligent as well. No Lord could ask for a better retainer in their service. And he'd basically foisted the lad onto Aelon hoping to be rid of a potential disgrace to his house. Just because the lad couldn't swing a sword and preferred the company of men.
It was distasteful, no doubt about that. Unnatural even. But with Edmund's death, he had little to remember his brother by and the boy was his blood. And just because he lacked the talent in the yard, he'd overlooked his other talents. Packed the lad off to Eastwood at the very first opportunity. Something that Brynden would regret till the day he died.
"Has the matter been dealt with?" Aelon asked Serwyn.
"Aye. Made it plenty clear to the man that if he had any further questions or doubts regarding the weregild, he could take the matter up with House Baratheon and see how well his complaints would be received."
"Good. The matter is settled then. What is the final tally of the weregild?" questioned Adam as he leaned forward, the man's interest was piqued by the idea of more gold flowing into his coffers.
"Around three thousand gold dragons for House Tarth, four thousand for House Errol and seven thousand for House Eastwood. The division is as per the ratio that we had agreed upon a few days ago," replied Serwyn.
That was not an insignificant sum of money.
"Should have bled the bastards more," grumbled the Lord of Haystack Hall, but the coy smile on his face betrayed his true feelings.
Soft chuckles filled the room as the Lord of Haystack Hall, a veteran of many battles, pouted like a child.
"Indeed my Lords, we have bled them enough for now. However, I believe that I would not be remiss in saying that much and more shall be planned to bleed our fallen enemies in the coming years," Aelon replied, his expression undoubtedly more than slightly disturbing.
"Aye Aelon. Buckler, Fell, Trant and Connington have much left to pay for. The only question is how," replied Garon, while his tone was sober, his eyes betrayed his underlying rage. He had still not forgiven the belligerent Houses for their role in his humiliation, nor in the slaughter of his household.
The Lord of Eastwood was quick to reply, "Economic warfare, Lord Garon. That is the way. We have been careful these past years, to measure our actions, to curb our trade and industry so as to not stir the sensitive sensibilities of our treacherous neighbours, but now, I at least have no such compunctions."
"Aelon has the right of it. The bastards have been brought low, but if given even a few seasons to recover, they will be able to rebuild their influence and refill their coffers. And while the loss of lands is a debilitating blow, the memories of Lords of the Storm are long and their grudges will run deep. We must take steps to ensure that they may never threaten us again," replied Brynden.
Of all the Lords gathered here, he was the one who had gained the least. Tarth was an island, and as such there were no lands to gain. Due to his late arrival, of no fault of his own, he had lost the least men. Undoubtedly, the man was hoping to make gains in this meeting, where my alliance and I were hoping to extract further concessions from Garon as we had been promised in lieu of his aid.
And there was much support that Garon still needed. House Baratheon may have gained more land from the Conningtons, and some gold besides, but Garon's rule was precariously unbalanced. His household had been slaughtered, the Marcher Lords and the Lords of Cape Wrath were still fighting in the Dornish Marches against the Vulture King and a boy Lord now stood as head of House Baratheon with an untested third son as Regent. House Baratheon was weak, and it needed support to regain its footing.
"Even if we are to attack their coffers and bleed their lands, they will not just take it lying down," advised Adam cautiously.
"Well, then it's a good thing that the Regents for Houses Fell and Buckler are yet to be appointed," Aelon's smirk was telling as he turned my attention to Garon who maintained a blank expression on his face.
"As Regent of House Baratheon, the King has indeed vested in me the power to appoint regents for the new, young Lords of Bronzegate and Felwood, but I would be remiss in not pointing out that convention dictates that the regents are ideally chosen from the immediate families of the Lords themselves," a measured response from a tempered man. The new Regent of the Stormlands was careful in his response.
"Of course, that is a power that you must wield with wisdom. There is no doubt about that, but there is precedent for appointing a Regent from elsewhere when other members of the House are also guilty of committing the same heinous crimes that have resulted in the Regency in the first place."
"Aye," stated Serwyn imperiously, continuing where his uncle had left off, "After the death of King Garland IV Gardener, a member of House Tyrell served as Regent as other Garland's brothers could not be trusted to serve in the interests of his sons. While Edric Fell and Bryce Buckler may have taken the Black, their brothers, nephews and cousins are equally guilty of their crimes. They cannot be trusted to serve in the interests of the realm."
"Perhaps, but I cannot conscience the appointment of two regents from Houses otherwise. It would not be wise and would show favouritism on behalf of House Baratheon. Already I have agreed for Ser Edwell to serve as Castellan at Storm's End even though Ser Bruce's boy is not even cold in the ground. Any more would be unseemly," stated Garon. However, taking a deep breath, he eventually continued, "Edric Fell's cousin, Ser Justin Fell served in Rogar's retinue for many years and is currently fighting in the Marches. He was fostered by Lord Selmy and is a good man, lacking the treachery of his cousin. I shall appoint him as Regent of House Felwood."
Adam was about to raise his voice in protest, but Garon held up his hand restraining him, "However, I realise that House Buckler has been the primary leader in this aggression against Eastwood, Tarth and Haystack Hall, their crimes are numerous and not just contained to recent events. Their members cannot be trusted to uphold the King's Peace and as such I am open to the idea of the Regent for House Buckler, to be appointed from a neighbouring House."
Seeing his opportunity, Brynden decided to make a move, "My Lord, House Tarth has fought and bled in this conflict as well. And yet we have gained no lands. My niece, nephew and grand-nephews were also threatened by Borys and his ilk's savagery. I request, in the interests of justice and fairness, that my nephew, Serwyn be appointed Regent of Bronzegate."
I smiled into my cup at that, even though Serwyn looked beyond startled. We had not informed him of our intention to see him appointed as Regent of Bronzegate, but he had been a natural choice. With the expansion of my lands and the influx of gold, there would be many beneficiaries. Ser James's lands would be expanded. Ser Jarett and Ser George were to receive lands of their own to govern from the forfeited Buckler and Fell lands. Even Bryan, who had served me so faithfully all these years, was granted a few acres of farmland in my newly gained lands.
However, Serywn was no knight, and due to his sexual preferences, was unlikely to ever father any children. Awarding him lands, that he would be hard-pressed to care for owing to his duties in Eastwood and which would eventually revert to myself upon his death, was an exercise in futility. However, as Regent of Bronzegate, he could be trusted to ensure that House Buckler was kept in line, and any economic aggression on behalf of our alliance would be met by appeasement and rapprochement as opposed to swords and vitriol.
Was it honourable? No. Was it deceitful? To the extreme. But Serwyn was the one man in my service who would not bat an eyelid. Loyal, competent and ruthless, he was the perfect man for the job. It would hurt a bit to lose his services for the next six years, but his appointment benefited both Tarth and myself. And the benefits of having him in Bronzegate far outweighed the cost of losing his services in Eastwood for a few years.
"What say you, Serwyn Tarth?" boomed Garon, obviously liking the idea. Serwyn was a good man. Diligent and leal. Regardless of the obvious intention to see House Buckler crippled, there was little doubt that he would see to it that he would keep the Bucklers in line.
"It would be my honour, my Lord," replied Serwyn eventually, his eyes glancing at me and Brynden as he nodded his acceptance.
There was much for me to discuss with Serwyn, much indeed. What few would surmise was that the true intention was not to cripple House Buckler by ruining them, but to execute policy decisions in such a way, that would tie Bronzegate's economy to that of Eastwood so intrinsically, so deeply, that if Aelon wished it, he could actually decimate Bronzegate's economy.
Over the next six years, Aelon and Serwyn would execute trade agreements, gradually reduce Bronzegate's investments in certain critical industries and begin the import of so many goods and services from Eastwood, that by the time the regency ended, Bronzegate would essentially be Aelon's vassal. And with the next Lord of Bronzegate serving as Aelon's squire, if the Gods willed it, the cycle may continue for a few more years at least.
Aelon did not consider himself a vicious man. Or a particularly vengeful one. But these fuckers had attacked his home. His family. Bryce Buckler in his infinite arrogance had thought himself his better. And he would take great joy, writing to him at the Wall one day, many years from now, informing him of how his House was all but a named vassal to House Eastwood.
Winter has come for House Buckler.
Eight Weeks since the King's Judgement
Eastwood
Mid 61 AC
I gazed at the once-proud castle I had called home for a decade. The walls stood in a state of disrepair, only stone remained of the structure. The once tall ceilings had collapsed as the beams had burned. The outer walls were cracked, burnt and in some parts falling apart.
It had been eight weeks since the King's judgement or Jaehaeys's Storm as the smallfolk had taken to calling his landmark decisions. Almost three turns of the moon since the conflict began, and now finally, the master builders that I had called for from King's Landing had finished their evaluation of the ravaged Keep and the town of Eastwood.
A pang of loss pulsed through me as I considered all the effort that had gone into its construction. A deep breath saw me calm once more, mind set on a new eventuality.
It will be rebuilt.
It would not be a waste, the destruction brought to my home would not be in vain. To take a page from the Ironborn's ignoble book; it would rise again, harder and stronger.
Luckily, I thought with a chuckle, I had already begun drawing plans for this eventuality. The strategy of burning my own keep to the ground was not done merely on a whim. I had expected to be paid recompense and to raise a far better castle in the aftermath. With the influx of ninety thousand dragons, he had gold aplenty. Of course, much of that would go towards rebuilding the villages that had been ravaged and Eastwood, but there would still be enough left over to at least begin the renovations of his Keep. The rest, he would fund from his own coffers.
A voice softly spoke from beside me, "I assume you have a plan?"
I turned my head to observe my longtime friend, "Edwell, when have I ever not had a plan?"
"Very true, if I may say, you don't seem to be nearly as upset as you should be at the destruction wrought here," Edwell replied with a grin.
I frowned in thought, "There is a great deal of sadness in this situation. Many men are dead and progress that took years has been wiped out in some areas. Though the destruction does, of course, give me the opportunity to rebuild and redesign a great many things. Many mistakes were made in my youth as I rushed towards greatness. Now, with the wisdom of experience, Eastwood will be born anew and that, my friend, is not something to be upset about."
"I suppose that our enemies will be paying a large sum towards the rebuild sings sweet victory as well," Edwell spoke with a knowing look.
I grinned, "Of course, though that is not the part of the compensation I'm most concerned about."
"Ah yes, the lands we've been given. I imagine that will increase your income twice over at the least."
I considered his words, it would not be a stretch to say that the increase both in population and arable land ready for conversion would cause a boom in hands available for more mercantile ventures, "I would expect the tax on my new lands to return a little under half of my current revenue. Though with a few years of change and growth, I might see revenue triple."
My friend's eyes widened and I grinned at him, "If your father had begun following my ideas earlier he might already be reaping the benefits."
Edwell looked uncomfortable, "You must understand, Aelon, that most of your practices are revolutionary and also, until now, hard to place faith in. I imagine after this catastrophe our House will be keener to listen."
I nodded, "I know Ed, it seems humorous to me now that when I first arrived here; fresh from the Riverlands. This castle was only a single tower, it even seems fanciful to me when I see the progress we've accomplished."
"And what is your plan now? How many towers will your new castle possess?"
"The builders came back with an estimate after I shared the plans with them. It will cost be a king's ransom and will take several years, but in around four years or so, the Starfort will be as large as Evenfall Hall"
Ed let out a low whistle at that, his eyebrows disappearing under his hairline, "I knew you'd be aiming high, but not that high!"
"Well you should be glad for it Ed, after all, Haystack Hall will be providing the stone," I spoke with a wry grin.
"Father will be pleased," replied the Stormlander glibly.
"Well, your old man better give me a damn good price. I've bought enough stone from him now to build Harrenhall twice over," I grumbled.
"Aye. I don't doubt he will. You've come a long way since I first met you Aelon. It seems you're only going to go farther. My father is keen on profiting off your growth."
I threw Edwell a questioning look.
The Knight met his gaze evenly, but eventually elaborated, "It isn't all that fanciful once a person meets you, Aelon. You've a talent for noticing opportunities and the drive to see them through."
"Hopefully those skills do me well in the capital," I said with a grimace, the expression matched by the other Knight. The pair of us remained there, observing the ruins, for another hour before eventually deciding to move on. I knew I had many things to do before my departure for King's landing. Chief among them was organising the census and accompanying administrative duties for my new lands.
"When do you depart?" the Knight questioned.
"In a sennight. I cannot delay any longer. The Darklyns are mounting pressure and Lord Arryn's grace will only last so long before he must concede to their demands if I fail to present myself," I replied with a grimace.
"Those fuckers are scum. I heard from Warren that they've been attempting to poach some of your Crownlander customers while your whiskey exports were halted?" asked a concerned Edwell.
"Aye. A fat lot of good that did them though. Lord Staunton actually wrote to me that he spat out their Dark Whiskey when he first drank it and ordered his servants to throw away the barrels he purchased," I chuckled making light of the situation. However, I was still concerned about the Darklyns' actions.
While Lord Staunton and a few others had hated the Dark Whisky, I had received smaller orders than the norm from Lords Bywater and Sunglass. Something that was on my agenda to address when I made my way to King's Landing.
"Be careful in King's Landing, my friend. It is a pit of vipers, unlike anything you have faced before. My brother Walton will be there to aid you, but even then he will not be able to support you wholeheartedly without compromising his own position."
"Aye. But worry not Edwell. King's Landing is a pit of vipers. And undoubtedly I will exercise caution. But it is also the city of opportunity. And I mean to exploit that. There is much that yet remains to be accomplished," my voice betrayed my determination.
"Indeed, my friend. Indeed."
"Now enough of the unpleasantness. When do you depart for Storm's End to take up the role of Castellan?"
I placed my arms around my friend's shoulder and led him away. Now was not the time for worry. But for celebration.
The Gods had rolled the dice. And for now, they favoured me.
Blackwater Bay
As the ship lurched once more, I was forced to pick up my mug of whisky to prevent its inevitable fall to the wooden floor of my cabin. I made much of my revenue through trade overseas, yet I could comfortably say I preferred dry land.
Opposite me, my faithful steward Warren placed a hand over his mouth, eyes closed in concentration as he desperately attempted not to spew up his dinner. The sight brought forth a chuckle, when his sickness passed and he opened his eyes I was met with a glare, "Years of faithful service rewarded by mockery."
I smiled, "Your services are greatly valued Warren, but I think we will keep you to shore from now on."
"Aye, I've half a mind to return to Eastwood by land when we eventually leave King's Landing."
"You likely have some time to make a decision, I don't expect our visit to be all that short," I mumbled apologetically. I was travelling, of course, to visit the Master of Laws, Lord Arryn.
After years of subtle snubs and rumours of discontent, House Darklyn had finally played their first move. They had petitioned for a high-premium luxury goods tax to be placed on whisky, a tax that if let to come to pass would be, if not crippling, then certainly unpleasant for my coffers.
Whiskey was undoubtedly a luxury good, but even among luxury goods, there were brackets. What Darklyn was proposing would place a barrel of whiskey priced at five dragons in the same tax category as a famous Myrish rug. It was nothing short of ridiculous. Not even a barrel of Gold Label, which was priced at five and twenty dragons should be taxed that high.
"Quite right, my lord. We've much to deal with. We must encourage Lord Arryn to reconsider their ridiculous proposal and there is also the King's roads to deal with."
I nodded and waved a hand at the Steward, it was always best to let him spew out his ideas when they were organised than to interrupt.
"Regarding Lord Arryn, I believe he might be persuaded to our cause through a trade agreement. The Graftons currently deal with the distribution of your exports throughout the Vale, a position no doubt the envy of many Valemen. Lord Arryn however proposes that House Arryn possesses a sovereign dock and warehousing facility at Gulltown that falls outside of the Graftons purview. He believes that they could doubtless take on the distribution in the Graftons' stead."
Warren paused for a moment, "Would that not cause tremendous issues with House Grafton? They would lose out on an incredible amount of money and doubtless be slighted."
"We would lose the Graftons, but gain their liege lord, a Lord Paramount nonetheless, as an ally."
I frowned in consideration, this was a nasty situation to deal with but the appeal of having the Lord of the Vale as a friend couldn't be overstated.
Heaving a sigh, I responded, "I believe that with Lord Arryn as master of laws and as a friend, much in the capital could be accomplished. But even so, I am wary of slighting the Graftons so."
"It will undoubtedly have an impact on our other distributors, they will undoubtedly be fearful of similar reversals against themselves," opined Warren, his face thoughtful and wary.
"Aye. Assurances will have to be provided to them that these were special circumstances. We may have to tighten the contracts in their favour for a term of a few years. My concern is also with future distributors. I had hoped to make inroads with Lord Martyn Tyrell in King's Landing as well."
"The Master of Coin? You wish for House Tyrell to serve as distributors for Eastwood Whiskey in the Reach?"
"Aye. Highgarden is the key to the Westerlands and the Reach. We could ship our whiskey through the Stepstones, past the Arbour and Oldtown, several of Lord Tarth's ships already use the route to import wine and fruits from the Reach. And then we dock at the mouth of the Mander from where House Tyrell's river boats can carry the cargo to Highgarden."
"That is a long and perilous journey, my Lord. Not just the storms and the high seas, but pirates in the Stepstones and the fucking Ironborn will also thwart you in this venture. The loss of a single shipment would amount to several thousand dragons," Warren was almost incensed.
"Aye, but we already transport to the Westerlands and the Reach by road through some of your merchants. The amount that we lose in spillage and breakage every day will be as much as the cost of a single shipment lost occasionally," I countered smugly.
"It is perilous nonetheless, my Lord. I would advise caution."
"Let's go with that idea, for now, draw up a plan of the rates expected so I have a good idea of what to expect at the negotiating table."
The steward smiled, "As you say, my lord. Now, the matter with the King requires great attention. The rate we negotiate for our concrete will undoubtedly be set for the term of the contract so it's important we get it right."
"I agree, I have heard from some sources," I said, obviously not revealing that said sources was metaknowledge from another world, "that King Jaehaerys plans to create a network of roads across Westeros."
"Surely not?" replied an awed Warren.
"Aye. How vast this network would be, I know not, but using concrete instead of stone would be a boon to the King's vision. The presentation before the King is paramount. Our masons are prepared?"
"Indeed. We have carried varying quantities of concrete blocks of multitudes of sizes for the King's masons to test. Alongside this, I have prepared a comprehensive report with Mayor Monfryd's aid that chronicles the various usages, malleability, tensile strength and other relevant factors. The only question is of cost. As per your instructions we have input various costs depending on location, the volume of concrete required et al, but even so, it is purely indicative. There are too many factors to consider."
"The cost is a question for a different time Warren. For now, all we must prove is that concrete is a better option than stone, and far cheaper at that."
Warren smiled at that, "That should be no problem whatsoever, my Lord."
Stretching my back after the long stint stuck at the table, I decided to go for a walk on the deck. It was a little past midday and the sun shone brightly in the sky. I cast my gaze across Blackwater Bay and was pleasantly surprised to see how close we were.
Despite logically knowing that the capital in this time was far different from the sprawling disgusting mess it would be in 300 AC. With a population of around sixty-thousand, it was far from colossal. Though in my opinion not quite as impressive as Storm's End, the Red Keep, just about visible in the distance despite the light fog, was quite a sight.
Fucking Darklyns, I thought darkly, hardly my fault my father bested a knight of the Kingsguard. Thinking about my father still brought me confusion even after some fifteen years, I wondered how different my life would be had he not won a lordship. Would I have been a merchant in the Riverlands? Or merely a blacksmith for all my days, the thought was somewhat alien to me after so long as Lord of Eastwood.
Taking a deep breath of the pleasantly salty sea air, I took a moment to consider just how far I'd come. This past year had been brutal, but when all was said and done, I'd won.
Grimacing at the horizon, I couldn't help but think King's Landing would be a very different ball game.
Tình trạng nguồn điện hàng tuần
-- Xếp hạng
Quyền lực 
-- Đá
Quyền lực