Chapter 9
Red Keep, 281 A.C., Eight days later…
The days since the announcement of the "Dual Wedding of Lannisport", as the upcoming event has been named, have been an exhausting whirlwind of activity. I had expected a big reaction in the form of a few days of gossiping before the court would inevitably get distracted by something else. What I hadn't expected was for it to strike court like a political earthquake as it seemed to become thetopic of conversation on everyone's lips for a week as my new alliance and trade deal with the Lannisters caught even experienced players of the game of thrones off guard. The idea of the Lannisters, even through the cadet branch, marrying into any Northern house short of the Starks was unthinkable until my betrothal and the reality of it caused many to reevaluate not just House Seastark but the North as players of the game. In the eyes of the Southron lords, I went from being a minor Northern lord with a nice pedigree and strange invention to a notable player in the game, with the newest city of Wolfsport being the newest piece.
My days were spent either meeting with various lords for trade deals or going on what I mentally referred to as "dates" with Myrra and "double dates" that involved either Stannis and Cersei or Tygett and Darlessa.
The Westerosi version of a date generally involved a recently betrothed couple spending time together to get to known each other under direct supervision. My dates with Myrra involved strolling through the royal gardens while talking about various topics, meeting under the godswood where I instructed her on how Northern weddings work since she was going to do the same ceremony at Castle Warg, and probably most baffling to courtiers, spending time at the royal library sitting next to one another reading.
She was reading The Loves of Queen Nymeria by Maester Lucifer while I was skimming through a copy of The Nine Voyages by Maester Mathis and contemplating the confusing nature of this world's seasons. Spring and Autumn were fairly straightforward as they lasted only a year but summer and winter varied in length from one to multiple years. If this wasn't confusing enough, I remembered the "False Spring of 281" in the middle of a three-year long winter from the books only for Hugo's memories to contradict it with memories of the "False Spring of 279" with Spring coming in the first moons of this year instead of 283. I was pulled out of my ponderings when I felt a nudge on my left arm.
"I believe you're to meet with Lord Crakehall, Ser Swyft, and Lord Serrett soon." I hear a whisper as I turned my head to see a smirking Myrra. I looked around me and judged from the position and length of the shadows that it was near midday. I thanked her for the reminder and got up to put my book back but not before giving a quick kiss on the cheek that left her blushing, to the excited whispers and giggles of some watching courtiers and the narrow-eyed disapproval of our Septa chaperone. I ignored them as I placed my book back into the correct space and left. Public displays of affection were heavily frowned upon in Westeros and had Myrra and I not been betrothed, even a quick peck would have been a scandalous affair instead of merely juicy gossip for the rumor mill.
As I walked the halls of the Red Keep to my destination, I thought about the other activity taking up my time: meeting with lords, mainly River and Westerlords with a few Vale, Crown, and Stormlords sprinkled in. I didn't think much of it when word of the trade agreement I made with the Lannisters got out but apparently trade deals that mutually lower customs duties were a rare thing in Westeros and also drew a big reaction from court. This led to what felt like an avalanche of lords seeking trade deals, especially after the new Master of Coin Lord Ambrose Mallister of Seagard and I negotiated a simple trade deal of furs and amber for iron mined near Oldstones and lowering the Wolfsport customs duty for Mallister ships to five-and-twenty percent in exchange for grain shipments in winter.
My mind wandered to my upcoming meeting. What did Myrra say about them again? Ah! Right! Lord Roland Crakehall, new lord cause his father just passed, youngest sister Shiera recently betrothed to Jaime, loves hunting, lots of iron, copper and tin…
Lord Willem Serrett, oldest of the three, married his eldest daughter to Roland and youngest daughter to Lord Swyft's son and heir, arrogant and cocky, lots of silver…
Ser Harys Swyft, older than Roland but younger than Willem, chinless, Swyfts used to be a lordly house but got demoted after the Dance of Dragons, sensitive, one of the few agricultural regions of the Westerlands, lots of grain and cider…
I pass by the Great Hall as I mentally dredge up the information Myrra gave me on the two Westerlords and knight I was about to meet. Who they were, their likes, dislikes, achievements, goals, resources, marriage alliances, practically all the information that makes trade negotiations go smoother. Myrra giving information on all the Westerlords was the first way she's assisted me in getting favorable trade deals. The second way was subtler, the only clue being a rather large spike in the number of lords and ladies asking about blue amber two days after the announcement. When I brought this up with her, the only response was an impish grin while explaining how she might havebeen boasting to the ladies of the court how she'll have a blue amber necklace bigger than the soon-to-be queen's. When she trailed off with a knowing look, I took the obvious hint and promised her a big fat blue amber necklace because frankly she deserved it.
I pulled myself out of my thoughts when I arrived at Lord Crakehall's quarters and entered, finding a small table with the three Westerlords. After exchanging greetings, I sat one of the ends as the special guest of this luncheon across from the host, Lord Roland Crakehall, Lord of Crakehall, a brown-bearded, big-bodied man in his twenties. Seated to the host's right was Lord Willem Serrett, Lord of Silverhill, a tall wiry blonde-hair man in his late thirties, to his right and Ser Harys Swyft, Knight of Cornfield, a chinless man in his early thirties with brown hair that was already showing signs of balding.
"Lord Crakehall, I heard about the passing of your father Lord Sumner Crakehall, you have my condolences." I begin in a serious voice as servants poured our drinks in silver goblets, which I noticed was a type of cider instead of wine. Lord Crakehall thanked me solemnly with a stone face that shifted to a sad smile before continuing.
"But it hasn't all been only dark words from Crakehall, I'm sure you heard about my youngest sister's betrothal to Ser Jaime."
"Indeed, I have heard of the betrothal. You have my congratulations as well. If I remember correctly, didn't Ser Jaime foster with your father?" I ask, already knowing the answer.
"Oh yes! Ser Jaime did foster with my father, who taught him all he knew of strategy and war…"
Lord Crakehall responded with a nostalgic smile as he started to tell stories of Ser Silence's time at Crakehall, with myself and the other two occupants only pretending to listen. I was idlily sipping my cider, a nice dry flavor that was my preference back on Earth when I noticed that Lord Crakehall had finished his story.
"I must say, this is some delicious cider! It has a crisp, dryer taste than the Sarsfield cider my betrothed had me try!" I change the topic and suppress a smirk when I see Ser Harys perk up.
"Oh! It's actually my house's famous cider, brewed in Cornfield the same way for centuries and…" Ser Harys responds with a passionate rant about cider that I only half pay attention to.
"It's only worthwhile thing his house makes." I hear Lord Serrett whisper to Lord Crakehall while Ser Swyft continues obliviously. To be fair to the man, I actually did find it delicious.
"Fascinating! I had no idea so much went into cider production. And I love these silver goblets, especially the intricate carvings! Are these from Silverhill?" I ask Lord Serrett as he puffs up with pride at my question.
"Well of course they are! We Serretts of Silverhill have the best silversmiths in the Westerlands and…"
I smile as I tune out Lord Serrett's obnoxious bragging, content with knowing I've successfully buttered them up before getting to the meat of the trade deal.
An hour later…
I left Lord Crakehall's quarters with a satisfied grin, having secured another profitable trade deal. Though not as profitable then it could've been had I met them one-on-one. Despite their bickering, the lords manage to keep a united front against me. I thought to myself as I pondered about the most recent trend happening in my trade negotiations, that lords were teaming up and I was being forced to negotiate against two or three lords instead of one, lowering my bargaining power. I wasn't sure why it was happening but I noticed it started two days ago with the Vances of both Atranta and Wayfarer's Rest negotiating together followed by the Freys and Rosbys, the Baneforts and Paynes, and now the Crakehalls, Serretts and Swyfts.
I was passing by the Great Hall again when I'm yanked from my thoughts by a familiar voice calling my name and turn to find my cousin catching up to me.
"Cousin! I see you finished early with the trade deal! How did it go?" He asked as we walked back toward the Seastark quarters.
"It went well. Got more iron and copper from the Crakehalls, silver from the Serretts, and grain and cider from the Swyfts for a good bargain. The Swyfts have a nice dry cider I like." I give a quick summary as we walk.
"Huh. I don't remember you liking cider other than our spiced mulled cider up North." He comments in a slightly befuddled tone.
I shrug. "Just a taste I've recently developed." "Like your taste in blondes?" He laughs as I roll my eyes. "You jape, but I've gotten grain deals with two-thirds of the Westerlords for autumn and winter." His eyes bug out when he hears this and it's my turn to laugh.
We continue to talk before deciding to go sparring when we arrived at our quarters. After armoring up, we made our way to the massive training courtyard where dozens of lords of various ranks were spread out mingling and sparring. Surrounding the courtyard was a two-storied peristyle where many ladies, servants, and other observers would watch the intense spars. As Wyman and I grab blunted swords from the weapons rack and enter the courtyard, I spy Myrra with Ladies Jeyne Farman, Darlessa Marbrand, and Cersei looking down from above to our left. When they saw me, they were just close enough for me to make out Myrra's wide smile, next two Jeyne and Darlessa's polite smiles and Cersei's haughty gaze.
Wyman and I find an open spot near the other Northern lords and as we begin to trade blows, I was giving silent thanks to the Old Gods, George, the Flying Spaghetti Monster, or whoever merged our souls together that I not only received Hugo's memories but also his skills with a blade.
I wasn't sure if I had his skills or not until a few days ago when I decided to have a private sparring session with Wyman to find out. At first it seemed like my fears of only having my non-existent skills from Earth had come true as for the first two spars, Wyman easily beat my sluggish, uncoordinated ass. However, when started our third spar I suddenly felt everything "click" as my movements became faster and more coordinated and my skills sharper as I went from being easily thrashed to going toe-to-toe with him, winning three of our eventual seven spars.
Speaking of going toe-to-toe, I was currently doing that with Wyman as our attacks and movements sped up as he went on the attack. I was being pushed back barely being fast enough to parry only to duck under a wide horizontal swing that he put a little too much power into that I took advantage of to sneak into his guard and place my blunted blade next to his neck. "Yield?" I say with a grin. "Aye, I yield." He mutters with a smile as notice an audience surrounding us, mostly Northern lords as I see my cousins Owen Fisher and Galbert Glover with a few lords from the other kingdoms mixed in.
As Wyman and I walked off to the side and let Owen and Galbert take over for a spar I hear a shout "Lord Seastark!" as turn to see Ser Tygett Lannister with a few Westerland knights a short distance away. "I believe you still owe me a spar!" he shouts in a challenging tone. I bark out a short laugh and respond "I believe I do Ser Tygett". I begin to walk over with Wyman to where Ser Tygett was as I hear the lords and ladies look at us and whisper and my eyes dart to where Myrra and her with Darlessa and Jeyne with excited expressions with even Cersei looking intrigued.
Wyman stood off to the side with the other Westerlords while I continued to the center where Ser Tygett was, who simply smiled when I reached him. "Good. I want to see the warrior that slayed a Kingsguard!" he says to the surprised mutterings of some of the lords as we get into our battle stances, swords and shields at the ready.
Soon enough, we're clashing, slowly at first as we gauge each other's skill before settling into a face-paced dance of attacks, blocks, parries, and feints. Something I realized very quickly was that while Wyman and I were skilled for our age group, fighting older, more experienced fighters like Ser Tygett who had roughly twice the experience I had was a completely different ball game. He didn't fall for my simple feints, expertly parried my attacks and was currently attacking aggressively to keep me on the back foot. I managed to parry a swing from my right with my sword and bash my shield against him, knocking him back two steps and giving me a brief moment to breathe. I then took control of the momentum of the spar and begin to pressing the attack against him, making it his turn to be on the backfoot. I kept pressing as he expertly block and parried my blows before I spotted an opening on his left that I immediately attempted to exploit only to realize too late that it was a feint when he swifted his blade and hit me with a riposte that left me open to a powerful shield bash that knocked me to the ground. I looked up to find a blunted blade pointed at my throat held by a smirking, Ser Tygett. "Yield"
"Aye, I yield." I say as he offers me a hand up that I grab. "Well fought, Lord Seastark. I see the battles you have fought in gave you some experience though you're still young. It's good that you're aggressive but a more experienced opponent can take advantage of that." He casually offers some advice while wiping the sweat off his brow and I thank him before having a spar with while Ser Addam Marbrand while Wyman had a spar Ser Quenten Serrett, son of Lord Willem Serrett who I met earlier today. I barely beat Ser Addam while Wyman easily beat Ser Quenten before going back to join the other Northern lords while I continued to spar with the Westerlords.
After a few more spars, I defeated a young Lord Gawen Westerling and was pulling him off the ground when we heard shouting coming from the area of the courtyard where the Northern lords had gathered. I went over to investigate and found a group of Northerners with a few lords and knights from the other kingdoms surrounding a group that was the source of screaming obscenities. As I reached the group, I ask a twenty nameday-old Lord Halys Hornwood what was going on. He seems surprised to see me and immediately gets out of the way and calling other lords to do the same. I nod in thanks and continue to the middle of the gathering when I start to hear what was being shouted.
"-WHORING YOURSELVES OUT TO THE LANNISTERS!" I bristle at the insult no doubt directed at my house. I heard a mix of mocking laughs and angry jeers.
"HA! YOU WANNA TALK ABOUT DISLOYAL? HOW ABOUT WHEN YOUR HOUSE SIDED WITH THE BOLTONS DURING THEIR LAST REVOLT?" I hear Wyman's voice shout back in indignant rage with multiple angry yells and jeers coming from one corner of the group. I finally get to the middle to see and furious, bruised and bloodied-nosed Wyman being held back by my other cousins, Owen Fisher and Galbert Glover facing off with an equally furious and battered Arthor Karstark being held back by his older brother Cregan and Roose Bolton.
"OI! What's going on here!" I cut in, straight to the point. "I would like to know the same thing, Lord Seastark." I hear a new voice emerge from the crowd say my name and title mockingly and my gaze shifts Lord Rickard Karstark, a large man twice my age with brown-hair, a large beard and the same blue-gray eyes I had staring at me with disdain. "Lord Karstark." I narrow my eyes and respond neutrally, shifting my gaze back to the scene with Wyman and Arthor. "Well." I say impatiently.
"I witnessed what happened Lord Seastark." I see a slightly fat Ser Wylis Manderly, heir to White Harbor step out from the crowd. "I swear on both the Old Gods and the Seven, Lord Wyman and Lord Arthor had a close spar that ended with Lord Arthor knocked to the ground and forced to yield. When Lord Wyman accepted his yield and offered his hand and pulled him up, Lord Arthor spat on him. Lord Wyman then struck him with his gauntlet and they brawled before being pulled apart." He stated confidently to a mix of gasps and murmurs of confirmation from the crowd. My eyes briefly shift to Lord Karstark, who seemed to be digesting the information before shifting back to Wyman. "Is this true Wyman?" I ask him.
Wyman grimaces for a moment before sighing. "Aye, it's true. He spat on me, I punched him, we fought, and now we're here." Arthor slowly nods, confirming both Wyman and Ser Wylis.
I frown at the tricky situation in front of me. Wyman was in the wrong for punching Arthor but Arthor spitting on him was a provocation. Back on Earth, spitting on someone was an extremely disrespectful act that would probably lead to a fight. In Westeros, spitting on someone was an extremely disrespectful act that will definitely lead to a fight because spitting on a highborn meant spitting on their house and that kind of disrespect can't go unanswered.
"Your cousin assaulted my kin." Rickard Karstark finally growled out in an accusatory tone.
"After your cousin spat on my kin." I remind him with a hard voice.
"My Lords!" Ser Wylis cut in. "Both houses are aggrieved. Mayhaps an apology from each of the involved will appease both houses' honors?" I hear mostly murmurs of agreement from the crowd with the exception of the Karstarks and few members from houses like the Umbers and Boltons who voiced their disagreement.
I contemplated his words. It seemed like the kind of comprise that left no one happy but allowed both parties to claim some kind of win before moving on and forgetting it ever happened. Which was good enough for me.
"I think that is a reasonable compromise." I nod to Ser Wylis and my eyes scan the crowd to see most of the Northerners and non-Northern lords nodding and muttering in agreement, seeming to believe this was a fair way to end it. I ignored the same group that voiced their disagreement to Ser Wylis when they began jeering at me.
"No." Lord Karstark steps forward and says stone-faced and silences everyone as I stare in disbelief. "Why should my cousin have to apologize to your young, brash cousin who can't control his anger." He sneers. This motherfucker… I think to myself.
"Really? Because your what? Thirty namedays-old cousin lost a spar, threw a temper tantrum and spat on my cousin. Sounds to me like your cousin is the one who can't control his anger." I say flippantly, causing him to snarl as his eyes light up in anger as the crowd laughs or jeers at my comment.
"My Lords! There is no reason for things to get out of hand!" Ser Wylis pleads desperately as Lord Karstark angrily responds "Why should we have to apologize to a young, cooper-counting house like yours that's more Southron than Northern? Haven't you heard what they're calling you, Seastark? The newest house of the Westerlands! All because you got yourself a lioness whore!" He steps closer and a thunderous mix of boos, jeers, laughs, and angry yells meets Lord Karstarks inflammatory words.
I feel rage bubbling up inside me and I take a step towards him. "We're more Northern than your house will ever be. Unlike you our house we contribute to the North. We repopulated a barren land, built a fleet from scratch that protects most of the western coast from Wildlings and Ironborn, and now in the past moon alone, my cousin and I have saved King's Landing and gained a city charter. SO I ASK YOU KARSTARK, WHAT THE FUCK HAS YOUR HOUSE EVEN ACCOMPLISHED?" I yell the last part as Lord Karstark's face contorts in rage. He steps closer to me again as the crowd seems to get louder and louder.
"HOW DARE YOU, YOU ARROGANT LITTLE SHIT!" Lord Karstark screams as he steps closer again before being pulled back by the Greatjon Umber, Lord of Last Hearth.
I go to yell something when I feel a hand on my shoulder and look to see my other uncle, Lord Osric Fisher with a serious expression. "Enough, nephew." I could still feel the rage inside from Karstark's words but I forced myself to nod my head and look around.
Where did all these lords and ladies come from? I thought to myself as I suddenly hear cries from a section of the crowd behind me.
"It's the King!" "It's his grace!" I hear as turn to see the crowd part ways to reveal King Robert walking towards us with Prince Stannis and his uncle Ser Ealon Estremont, the Master of Whispers.
"OI! What's going on here?" The King says in a loud voice and I feel a weird sense of deja-vu as everyone kneels. "Up!" King Robert shouts and everyone stands.
"Your grace! Apologies for the disturbance! It's just a spar that got a bit out of control but we were about to finish with both the belligerents apologizing to one another to sate each other's honor." I say to the king with my voice becoming more forceful with the second part as I look at Lord Karstark, his cousin and Wyman. Lord Karstark grinds his teeth and stare balefully at me but turns his head and nods to his cousin and I do the same to mine.
Arthor and Wyman look each other dead in the eye. "I apologize for spitting on you." "I apologize for punching you." They both growl out at the same time and it's obvious to everyone that neither means it. Ser Wylis looks relieved but the King looks at us skeptically and says "I see the issue has been resolved. Make sure it stays resolved." With the last two words carrying an unspoken but potent threat of royal displeasure and even punishment before turning to leave. Prince Stannis glances at me with a somewhat sympathetic look while his uncle gives me a look I can't read before they turn to follow the King. The crowd begins to disperse as I go to Wyman.
"You alright?" I ask him as he stands next to Galbert and Owen. He has a large bruise on his left cheek and a possible broken nose that he was currently using a cloth to stem the bleeding.
"I'll be fine, just need to get my nose fixed." He takes off the rag and shows me his crooked nose that looks bad but fixable.
"Come on, let's get you to a master." I say and all four of us begin to leave but not before turning to my uncle Osric and quietly thanking him for interfering and preventing me from saying I might regret. He only responded that I probably already did and walked away. As my cousins and I left silently my eyes scan the dispersing crowd, I find the Karstarks glaring balefully at me, the Umbers, Boltons, and Flints giving disapproving looks, the Manderlys, Mormonts and Slates among others were giving me sympathetic looks. My eyes shift to where Myrra and her group was to find it empty and when my eyes searched, I didn't find them. As we left the courtyard towards to find a maester, I was already hearing the lords and ladies gossiping in loud and soft whispers about the new feud between the Seastarks and the Karstarks and what this could mean for not only the North, but for the realm as a whole.
A/N: Biggest chapter yet and we now see a feud forming between the Seastarks and Karstarks, who before this had a complicated relationship of "distant kin that occasionally squabble but stood together when it mattered". Yet another thing for Ned to deal with he and his party return