Chapter I
Cedrik Baratheon stood for a moment, looking about. The wedding of Marric Penrose to Gaena Caron was under way, though he would not go unless Gulian had made him. Marric was Gulian Swanns cousin by his mother's sister, and of course Gulian would make him go. His elder brother by five years, Stannis, and his eldest brother Robert were going to the Harrenhal tourney held by the Whents, the biggest tourney in the history of Westeros! He was sullen while they had made their way down the road to the castle of Parchments, but Gulian had given him a swat on the ear and told him to not be sullen about it, that the tourneys were all just summer knights coming out to play.
Cedrik supposed that was right, anyways. But he was still mad about it. Sometimes it seemed the gods hated him and his family. Being born the third son of a Lord Paramount was great, sure. But his parents were dead by the time he was nearing seven namedays, for Seven's sake!
He was almost a man grown. Just three more namedays and he would be knighted and likely given a small bit of land in the Stormlands. He frowned, then. Poor Renly. The fourth son, even of a Great Lord, would either have to marry into a title or - uch, go to the Wall, where not just hands froze off up there. The Northmen were a savage folk who worshipped trees, no less! He was surprised Robert was friends with that Northron man, Reddard or Ned or something.
Oh, well. Cedrik couldn't dwell on that too long, the first bouts of dancing were starting up. He turned and looked around, watching the men and women who were bawdy enough to dance stomp about to The Bear and Maiden Fair. He decided then that he would try his best to go dull as a cow for the rest of the night, though if Gulian caught on to that he'd give him a swat on the side of the head.
After the wedding was over, Cedrik and Gulian made their way down the road at a slow pace, Gulian still recovering from the three cups of wine he had the night before. "You were good last night. Still sullen, I suppose, but you were not rude or impolite, at least. You caught the attention of a few young ladies as well, you know." Gulian smirked at his comment before stoppung himself, almost immediately getting a dull throb in his head from moving so fast. Cedrik perked up a little. "You are certain of this?" He grinned a little to himself but stopped himself from doing anything too foolish. Gulian nodded his head slowly, as though he were trying to sneak past a watchful crow. Cedrik's grin widened and he put a little more step to his horse. "Well, you know, I am a man who attracts all the women, not unlike a certain eldest brother of mine." Cedrik smirked at his little jest.
They arrived back at Stonehelm after a time, and both men were utterly exhausted from the trip, even though it took little more than three or four days to move along the road back to Stonehelm. Cedrik rested well that first day, falling into his bed from near exhaustion. The next day he got up near the hour of the rooster, waking up and yawning before donning his padded doublet and putting on his pants and socks. The put on his boots and laced up his trousers before exiting into the yard, where Gulian was waiting. "Good, you are up. We must train now. You are getting better, but better is not great. Now, let us begin the practice, mm?" Cedrik nodded silently, preparing for the bruises and soreness to come. "First, I will have you take this bag of sand here, pull it over your shoulder lad. Now, run across this field with this bag of sand ten times!" Cedrik groaned but began to run, his legs pounding away at the ground at first but by the time he was at the tenth return he could barely walk. He tossed the bag of sand down and near collapsed, somehow managing not to.
"Good! Now pick up the sword. I am going to teach you endurance, lad. You need to be able to fight off many enemies for hours at a time even if you are exhausted, or you will die in battle. Now! Put up your sword!" Cedrik was exhausted, but he found the strength to pull his sword into position parrying a few strikes here and there before finally Gulian cried, "No! No, this won't work! You've lost all your endurance, Cedrik! Ah, that's enough swordfighting for today. Go off and do your lessons with the Maester, lad." Cedrik was grateful for the reprieve, already sore and aching from the exercise. He made his way into the keep stealing off to the kitchens to grab himself a roll of bread and a bit of butter for it. He snacked on it in near silence, and when he was done he patted his hands on his trousers to get the butter off before making his way up the stairs swiftly to begin his lessons with Maester Crowell. Perhaps next week if Gulian was feeling kindly, he could go to Storm's End and visit Stannis and Renly.