A/N: Hello friends. Carnacki23 has returned. Older, wiser and wearier. I've been out of writing for awhile because my other stories ran out of juice, but then a little epic called A Song of Ice and Fire got adapted into a TV show and just turned everything I know about storytelling ass over tea-kettle and I grew inspired. So inspired, that I began to create my own house and characters. I began reading a story by Artemis' hunters called "Mistress of the Arcane", which is a good read, and was intrigued by her OC, Valance Baratheon. I was so intrigued that I fleshed out my House and characters to better fit Valance, creating her (possible) husband. And so I present: Lord Adrock of House Morrowhall, heir of Hermit's Rest in the Trident. In this companion piece to "Mistress of the Arcane", I introduce Adrock and his place in the world created by that Old Testament god, George R. R. Martin. This is also an audition for Artemis, so she can better understand my character, his motivations and hopefully, use Adrock in her story proper. And so, on with the story!

[xXx]

The Inventor:

A Companion Piece to "Mistress of the Arcane" by Artemis' hunters

[xXx]

ADROCK

"Introducing Lord Adrock of House Morrowhall, heir of Hermit's Rest," the herald proclaimed in the throne room of the Red Keep. Adrock moved forward and bowed to the king, Robert Baratheon. He wore black leather breeches, leather boots and a navy blue shirt bearing the white owl and gray gear of his family's sigil on his chest under a dark gray jacket that went down to the top of his boots. Fastened under the right side of his belt was his sword, a curved blade sheathed in a wooden scabbard. Upon rising, Adrock observed the king more clearly, taking in the fact that the man in front of him looked nothing like the strong warrior king that his father grew up with as a ward to Lord John Arryn of the Eyrie and later served during the Rebellion. The Robert who sat on the Iron Throne now was fat, drunk, and witless.

Victory has defeated the good king, Adrock observed internally. Or at least grief. The look in the king's eyes was sad, but only for a second as it changed to recognition.

"You're Bryce's boy, aren't you?" The king stated, remembering his fellow ward, Adrock's father Bryce.

"That's correct, Your Grace," Adrock answered. Robert 'hmmed' with a nod.

"You look just like him at that age, except for the eyes. Strange that." A lot of people said that Adrock looked like his father. They shared the same features. He was lean, somewhat tall, with handsome facial features like high cheekbones, a straight nose, strong chin, and an easy, if not mischievous smile. What set him apart from his father were his mismatched eyes, his right eye a warm hazel and his left a sky blue.

"You built mother's wheelhouse, too." Adrock looked from the throne to the King's left, where the Queen, Cersei Lannitser, and her eldest, Joffery, were sitting. He felt his right eye twitch in annoyance at the boy's voice. He had to deal with the golden-haired little shit for two months while he built the lumbering, two-deck monstrosity the Queen called a wheelhouse. Damn Lannisters; he might as well built her a siege tower. They demand the best, even if "the best" is also gaudy, wasteful and stupidly expensive. Adrock heard the jape about Tywin, the Lannister patriarch being able to shit gold quite a few times growing up.

Somebody should tell him to put his gold where his mouth is, Adrock japed internally. "That is also correct, Your Highness, but I wish not to hold up the court's time, so perhaps we should move on?" Joffery looked like he was about to explode into a rage at Adrock's nonexistent slight, but his mother intervened.

"Yes, perhaps some other time," she said, calming her son. Cersei was beautiful, but Adrock could it was a shallow beauty; too haughty, arrogant and entitled. She was also clever in all ways but useful, which made her dangerous. The king nodded.

"Right, Lord Arryn vouched for you, so out with it," the King ordered motioning to the kindly old man with broad shoulders and kind eyes and a friendly smile. Adrock returned a smile of his own. This is it.

"Thank you, Your Grace, my Lord Hand," he began. "King's Landing was founded three hundred years ago and now has a population of five hundred thousand people from the last rough estimate. Unfortunately, the city cannot properly hold a population at that size, and with no development within the city, slums have risen in the area known as Flea Bottom, which in turn is filled with so much squalor and crime, that it's become detrimental to the city's income."

"What do you suggest," asked Robert. Adrock smiled.

"Simple. We expand the city." The court began to murmur amongst themselves. Whispers of madness and foolishness reached Adrock's ears until the King raised his arms in a way that asked for silence. Something he must have learned from being on the throne for nearly two decades.

"And how do you propose to do this," he asked Adrock, stroking he beard which hid the multiple chins he gained from years of wine and feasting.

"As I mentioned, King's Landing is home to nearly half a million men, women and children. With fifty thousand able bodied men, we would be able to expand the city walls out another mile using the original stone while only needing to buy stone to fill in the gaps North and south of the Red Keep. We move the small folk living in Flea Bottom to the more spacious land now behind the walls and dismantle Flea Bottom. With the area free, the Crown could expand the harbor or sell deeds to some of the nobles in this very room who in turn could lease the properties on the Crown's behalf." The muttering began again, this time praising the well thought out plan for expansion.

"There is one problem with your proposal, Lord Morrowhall," a smooth, almost simpering voice called out. Turning to the source of the voice, Adrock saw a slender man with handsome features, green-gray eyes, a pointed beard and dark hair threaded with gray holding a ledger. Adrock wanted to slap his hand over his face, but he fought the urge, his hand twitched once at his side. How could I forget about Littlefinger?! That question rattled around the young Lord's head as he frowned.

Lord Petyr Baelish, or Littlefinger, the Master of Coin wore a smug smile. Adrock found the man disgusting. Baelish had the easiest job in the world and used the money he gained from his whores in order manipulate the world in his favor, and he did it all for a stupid chair made of swords. It's no way to make a living in Adrock's opinion. Using women to use men to use power. All that work to use something that he'll never truly reach. A waste of lives for some symbol. And Littlefinger enjoyed every part of it. The only other man who could make Adrock's skin crawl was Lord Walder Frey of the Twins. An arrogant old shit who believed he was so powerful because he could make an army from between his legs. Now there's a man who needs to be spaded and neutered.

"And what is that, Lord Baelish," Adrock asked the Master of Coin.

"Stone, even a little, costs quite a bit of coin, and then having to pay fifty thousand men only compounds that cost. That labor will be unavailable for an indeterminate amount of time seems like a waste of resources altogether."

"And how could you suggest altering a city that has stood for three hundred years," rasped out old Grand Maester Pycelle, his long chain rattling as he spoke. "Would you spit on the grand history of the king's seat?" King Robert sighed exhaustedly. Adrock's frown grew larger. Joffery and Cersei had smug grins.

"While your plan is sound, it appears to be too costly at the moment," the King answered then paused before glaring at Pycelle. "But you are correct in the fact that this city needs to expand. Anything to piss on those Gods' damned Targaryans." At that, Adrock frown turned into a small smile. Littlefinger's smile faltered for a moment while Joffery grimaced as if he ate a worm. Lord Arryn smiled proudly at his former ward. "You are dismissed, Lord Morrowhall."

"Thank you, Your Grace," Adrock replied with a bow before taking leave of the throne room. As he left, he caught the gaze of a beautiful woman his age with dark hair stormy gray eyes wearing a look of curiosity. She wore a gold and black dress. Adrock felt like he should know her, but the name escaped him. He decided to file it away as he left the keep to return to his family's manse in the city.

[xXx]

As he reached the courtyard, he found his squire, Mors Lowfoot. He was a stocky lad of ten and two, a big lad for his age who was still growing into his own, possibly even larger than his lord. He had a strong jaw, a small, flat nose and narrow green eyes. He trotted over quickly to his lord and began walking in step out of the Red Keep into the city proper.

"Did the King accept your proposal," he asked quickly. "What happened?" Adrock sighed.

"Baelish and Pycelle made him decline," he answered warily. "He liked the idea well enough, so did the court, but that poncey pimp said it would cost too much money, while the old windbag claimed it was a slight on 'the grand history of the king's city'." He impersonated the elderly Grand Maester, waving his hands in a flourish. Mors grunted in disgust.

"'Too much money,'" he asked sarcastically. "Most of the money the King spends goes into his pockets anyways, if the rumors are true. That's not including the feast, the tourneys; how much did Queen Cersei spend on the wheelhouse commission we worked on?"

"More than one should on a wheelhouse," Adrock answered his squire with a wry grin. This is why he chose Mors. Behind all of that bulk was a keen, observant mind. He noticed more than a boy his age should, which sometimes got him into trouble. But thankfully, he was smart enough to get out of trouble as well. Mors was the perfect blend of brains and brawn which Adrock believed would allow the boy go far; with the proper guidance, of course.

As they reached the family manse, they stopped in front of an old beggar with a big tangled grey beard, a wrinkled bald head and dead sightless eyes wearing a raggedy brown cloak. At his side was a gnarled walking stick and in his hand was a tin cup. His head rose at the arrival of Adrock and Mors.

"Hail, Dashael," Adrock greeted the blind beggar. Dashael smiled in return.

"Welcome home, milords. How was court?" He asked genially.

"They said no," Mors answered for his lord. Dashael stroked his beard deep in thought.

"Sorry to hear that, milord," he said in condolence. "I know how much work you put into that."

"It's alright," Adrock sighed. "Anything to report?" Dash shook his head.

"Nothing suspicious went passed my ears and nothing strange got past the children," he replied. Blind he may be, but deadly as well. Dashael was once a swordsman of great renown who could keep Barristan Selmy, Lord Commander of the King's Guard, on his toes. After losing his sight during the War of the Ninepenny Kings, he disappeared into obscurity, wandering the Seven Kingdoms and retraining himself to use his other senses to make up for his loss of sight. When he reached King's Landing after Robert's Rebellion, he became a silent protector of innocence and began recruiting orphans to act as his eyes within the city. Adrock discovered him in the act when he came to the city three moons ago and recruited him and his orphans to act as his spy network. Since then, Dashael had become a trusted friend and advisor; one of the few Adrock has in this cesspit of a city.

"My thanks, Dash," Adrock thanked the man and dropped fifteen silver stags in the beggar's cup. Dashael's eyebrows rose in surprise as he heard the silver drop into his cup.

"That's quite a bit of coin, milord," the old man commented. Adrock smiled.

"Get yourself and the children some food, my friend." With that Adrock and Mors entered the manse.

[xXx]

Adrock was now relaxing in his solar, smoking his favorite pipeweed in a glass-blown pipe he had made by a Lyseni glass-blower and looking over designs and notes for a new kind of explosive black powder that was discovered by a prospector back in Hermit's Rest. It was dangerous, but powerful and presented a multitude of applications that could revolutionize warfare in the coming decades.

Mors meanwhile was in the practice yard out back with the manse's man-at-arms, Ser Jaery Beefheart. A jovial giant of a man with a big bushy beard that makes people mistake him for an Umber of the North, and they aren't that far off. Recently, Mors and Jaery discovered the boy had the talent for wielding a two-handed long axe. Since the discovery, they had been training with due diligence most days of the week when Mors had free time.

That reminds me; I'll need to talk to the boy about his next name-day, Adrock noted. It would appear that Mors was almost ready for his own blade, or in this case, axe and he would need to ready the forge. Before he could muse further on the issue, the manse's steward, Myra Everglade, entered the solar.

"My lord, you have a visitor," she reported. Adrock raised his brow.

"Who," he asked. Myra's lips formed into a tight little smile.

"Lady Valance Baratheon and her handmaiden, Vera, my lord," she answered to her lord's surprise. Adrock jumped at that. The Mistress of the Arcane herself? What would the Fox want with him? The gears began to turn in his head.

"Did she state her business," he asked. Myra shook her head. "Are you sure?" Mrya gave him a look of annoyance.

"Adrock, do I look like a mind reader," she asked rhetorically as she left to escort Lady Baratheon inside. "All she said was she wanted to speak to you, so straighten yourself out a little." And with that, he obliged moving a pile of books off of the table next to the window and placed them next to his desk.

If she served a normal lord and spoke like that, the consequences would be dire. She wouldn't even be a steward. But she served Adrock Morrowhall, and Morrowhalls always saw the true worth of people, big and small. Adrock appreciated Myra's intelligence and hired her back in Hermit's Rest to run the day-to-day duties of the manse while Adrock dealt with his other projects. She kept him focused and wasn't afraid to speak her mind. She once slapped Ser Jaery so hard, that he was fell to the floor befuddled for an hour… and he's been smitten ever since.

"My lord, Lady Valance of House Baratheon and her handmaiden, Vera," Myra introduced his guests then placed refreshments on the now cleared table by the window. Adrock turned from the desk and was once again caught in the stormy grey gaze of the lady he saw earlier that day. Up close, she was even more beautiful, now that he took a closer look at her features. She was still beautiful, but now he could see the fierceness in her eyes, a storm goddess in human form.

"Greetings, my Ladies," he addressed both Lady Baratheon and her Bravosi handmaiden, from what he could tell from her long dark hair, dark eyes and sharp features. But he could also ascertain hints of scars barely poking out from under her dress, creeping over her shoulders. A former slave, perhaps, Adrock asked himself internally. "I am Lord Adrock of House Morrowhall, at your service."

He bowed to them and they returned his bow with a curtsy. Lady Valance spoke first.

"Thank you for having us, my lord," she said. "I wish to speak with you privately. Would you have a problem if Vera were to see your library?"

"No problem at all, my lady," he answered her, then turning his attention to Vera and smiled. "If there's something you wish to borrow, do not be afraid to ask." Both pairs of eyes widen in surprise. Obviously, they were not expecting him to know Vera's native tongue.

"Thank you, my Lord," Vera answered back with a raised brow, also in Bravosi and followed Myra to the library. Adrock's smile grew as they left the solar and turned his attention back to his remaining guest.

"Now that we have the privacy you seek, what can I do you for, my Lady" he asked her as Valance paced the room, looking around at the drawings, piles of books before she approached the lute-like instrument with a large hollow body and six strings attached to it.

"I was wondering where your idea to expand the city came from," she asked, plucking a string on the "lute". "It's rather inspired after only living here for only half a year." Very direct, Adrock noticed.

"Well you see my Lady—"

"Valance, call me Valance, please," she interrupted him. Adrock nodded.

"Only if you call me Adrock in return." Valance nodded her consent and he continued. "I suppose it started when Lord Arryn sent a letter to my father requesting that I come and offer my services to the crown and nobility of King's Landing. It was a well thought out agreement; I was able to choose my clients, work my own time, negotiable pay. The only catch was that my first job in the city was building the Queen a wheelhouse." With that, he pointed to plans of a well thought-out wheelhouse, with the perfect size, height and shape.

"Sounds simple enough," Valance commented. Adrock returned to his desk and relit his pipe. He gave Valance a look, asking permission which she allowed.

"Oh, it was," he began, "until I realized the Queen was a Lannister. I showed her my plans and she almost ripped them in half if I hadn't taken them from her. Then she demanded changes that turned my simple… perfect wheelhouse into what could equate to a gilded lumbering siege tower painted Lannister red and gold." At that, Valance laughed at the thought of the picture Adrock painted for her in her mind.

"I'm imagining the smallfolk running for their lives," she replied with a laugh as she sat down at the table. Adrock joined her with his pipe in his mouth.

"I know! To make matters worse, she wanted Prince Joffery to supervise. So that was fun. Thankfully, the Lord Hand allowed me to sup with him at night and we started talking. The main question on our minds was 'how do we make the kingdom better?'"

"How do you make the kingdom better," asked Valance with a raised brow. Adrock inhaled from his pipe and exhaled the smoke out the window.

"By starting at the seat," he answered. "We began to debate all that was wrong in King's Landing. I have the list around here somewhere; it's pretty long. But the first thing we noticed is that the city was too crowded and cramped. Slums are built on top of each other and there's no room to move around. There was too much tension."

"So you thought that by expanding the walls, you could relieve that tension," Valance finished his thought for him.

"That's correct, Valance," Adrock replied. "But as you saw today, Baelish, Pycelle as well as the Queen and Crown Prince won't allow it." Adrock frowned and took in another puff from his pipe. Valance looked at him with curiosity again.

"I don't believe I've ever met a highborn noble who cares so much about people the way you do," she states looking deeply into his mismatched eyes.

"To quote my family's words: 'All folk have their worth,' and I don't believe I've met a noble lady in this city who honestly speaks her mind like you do," Adrock returned with a wry grin. "I get the feeling we'll be seeing more of each other in the future."

Valance returned his smile. "I have to agree with you. Would you be interested in doing some work? Lord Arryn referred me to you."

"For you, of course, Lady Valance."

"Then it's time Vera and I take our leave." There was a knock on the door and in entered Myra and Vera. It is then that Adrock realizes something.

"You were testing me," Adrock states out of the blue. Valance jumps a little, but turns around and flashes a smile promising a challenge. To Adrock, it's as much an answer as any. She then notices his sword.

"Your sword," Valance observes casually, "it's shorter than normal swords."

"But it's also stronger," Adrock replies getting up from his seat and walking towards his sword. "I discovered a document in the Citadel library in Oldtown. It was a report about a warrior people who lived on mountainous islands near Novros. They created and mastered a way to forge blades by folding over the steel hundreds of times. It strengthens the core of the blade while burning away any impurities in the steel." He unsheathes the sword slowly. Valance observes the spiraling wave pattern traced down the single-edged blade to the tip. "The finished product is so sharp it could easily cut through chainmail, even steel plate with the right amount of effort, while hard enough to withstand a blow from a greatsword. I forged this sword with my own two hands with the help of another smith and a master with a skill in metallurgy. We put all of our blood, sweat and tears into this sword. And with this sword, I'll do what I feel is right. Farewell, Lady Valance." Adrock's eyes became hardened diamonds as he spoke, filled with a fire hidden within the cave of his soul. The Owls of Morrowhall have come to King's Landing; that much, Valance can see. Her smile grows wider as an excitement fills her being.

"Farewell, Lord Adrock," she replies calmly her storm grey eyes glow with something akin to delight. And with that, the Fox and her handmaiden departed.

[xXx]

VALANCE

"So did you find what you were looking for my lady?" Vera's question shook Valance from her deep reflecting. Then she blinked.

"Yes, Vera, I did," she answers her handmaiden. "And so much more." Valance could hardly believe it herself she says that. Vera grows confused.

"And what is that," she asks her mistress. Valance pauses to search for the proper word, and in order to search for a proper word she must think over her observations of Lord Adrock Morrowhall.

He cares not for politics, she begins in her head, but action. A man of logic, but seeking a way to surpass it. Abandons convention for alternatives, even improvement. Cares not for power… but survival. Ready to defend his beliefs with all that he is made of. In the end, that makes him…

"My Lady?"

"Someone interesting." A player who isn't a player. You're definitely someone to watch, aren't you, Adrock Morrowhall?

[xXx]

And so there you have it! Keep an eye out for Adrock as he joins Valance Baratheon in her adventures in Artemis' hunters' "Mistress of the Arcane"! She just put out a chapter now! Remember to review! See you soon!