Chapter 1
281 AC, 2 years ago
God's Eye
It was done, finally. The four year long winter was over in the Riverlands. Cold winds didn't blow anymore, and the snows had finally stopped beating down upon the nearly spent realm. Winter didn't go away just like that, for it was after two full weeks since the last snowfall that the four years long dream had started to take shape. The dream that had given men and women strength to live through days of agonizing cold, that had kept the people huddled together and hold on to loved ones, and not despair when the frigid weather became unbearable, and the Stranger himself seemed to call out for them.
It was the dream of spring, for after every nightfall there's a sunrise. The dream of a warm rising sun that's smash away all the cold and pain, of new bountiful harvests that'd wipe out the starvation and sickness. A dream of better days, for what else can one do when winter comes.
The dream was taking shape in many ways. The sanguine sun had risen, and the Earth was singing its most bewitching song. A heavy motherly scent filled the air as the soil thawed and flooded. Tender leaves had already dared to creep though the barren branches, and were now growing strong. On the back of a thick humus new grass sprouted out of the wet soil, attracting hungry animals whose growing chatter became more and more discernible. And people, how could one not talk about them. Mornings saw folks emerging from their homes with a hopeful smile on their weathered faces, and the look of sage entrepreneurial determination as they moved to restart their trade and living. The Gods had heard their prayers, and it was time to thank them in full.
Open plains and woods surrounded God's eye, the ancient huge lake in the middle of Westeros. It was taking its time in thawing despite more than one month of spring, and a glistening sheet of senile ice still remained over its middle. The dream was visible here as well. The castle of Harrenhal looming over had shrugged off all its ice, and the plains had already lost the last of its white sheen. Serene blue sky loomed over an open green scenery. Grass and shrubs grew and swayed with the spring breeze, and stray beasts grazed at them in peace.
The 'peace' didn't last long though, for all of a sudden the ground began to shake with the thudding of steel hooves on earth. Sheep and cattle for once stopped their grazing, and turned towards the source of the commotion. Four riders on handsome well-fed horses had come out of nowhere, or so it appeared, crushing nascent shrubs and painstakingly dug burrows under their heavy limbs as they galloped through the field. The animals yelped and moved away, and the horses ran past them towards the lake.
Excited laughter of two boys filled the air.
"Slow down Lords," shouted one of the two horsemen who were trailing the other two in the front.
"Your fathers will not like it lads," called the other of the two behind. "Edmun! Hoster! You are not to ride this fast, or this far. You don't have the practice."
But all Edmun cared for was the song of his horse's hooves, the taste of the spring morning, and the cool wind blowing at his face. You have been telling the same since the last thousand days, he thought, throwing back his head and letting his hair fly, each gallop of his chestnut horse sending a quiver of pure joy through his giddy insides. His cousin Hoster hooted in blithe laughter from his side. "I have had enough practice," he called back at their grandfather's men, then called at Edmun, "Come on, race you to the lake!"
"My lords!"
But the lordly cousins were already away, urging their horses to go even faster. A wordless tune came on its own out of Edmun's dry lips. Time for caution was gone. The winter was over, the prudence was done. He and his cousin hadn't been allowed to go out of Harrenhal for four years, and within its grey walls they had grown from children of eight to tall boys of twelve. It was time of freedom for Edmun and Hoster, to fulfill all the promises they had made to themselves about what they'd do when spring arrives. Riding in the tourney grounds beside God's Eye was at the very top. Even when the spring came the boys had waited, for they had never ridden a horse before. They had sat and listened patiently to the stable master's instructions, then had ridden under his watchful eyes for almost a week until the master had told that they were fit to go. Nothing was to stop him now, certainly not two of his father's men.
Edmun won the race. He pulled at the reins when he was four yards away from the lake, his horse drawing brown furrows in the grassy land as it came to a halt. He turned his vision ahead when Hoster reached him. It's huge, he thought for a thousandth time, as his eyes took in the view. One might have thought that God's Eye was an ocean, had it not been for the landmarks that grounded it down; the huge towers of Harrenhal for instance; and the lush Isle of Faces in the middle, hardly visible from the shores. "Green men live there," a knight had told them once. "Disfigured men and women with leaves for ears and noses and privates, who are plotting to throw us Andals out and sacrifice our children to their tree gods." Edmun had been frightened when he had first heard it, but now all he did was scoff. An Isle of White trees, with carved faces, nothing more.
"I can't see it," Hoster said. "Can you?"
"Maybe," Edmun replied, boring his hopeful eyes in the supposed direction of the Isle. "It is too far away, but I think I see something."
His father's men caught up with them. "We are not to stay here for long my lords," Warren said.
"This is where we hold the melees and jousting tourneys right?" Hoster asked as he looked around the open lands dotted with some trees, his long red hair tussled from the wind.
"Aye," said Ser Agron. "These plains, these are your family's lands. People can't farm here. These are for tourneys, though there hasn't been one for a very long time. We have to go back soon though. Today is important, remember."
"Yes yes I remember," Edmun's smile grew wider. He looked at Hoster, who was grinning as well. It was a special day after all. Their grandfather was to welcome and host two of the Kingsguard knights today, who were expected to arrive before noon. They all were told that it was for an uninteresting work, an errand from the Prince of Dragonstone Rhaegar Targaryen; yet the whole populace of Harrenhal was thrilled. Spirits of the young ones were particularly high. Ser Arthur Dayne was coming to Harrenhal, along with Ser Oswell Whent, the younger brother of his grandfather, Lord Walter Whent. The Sword of the Morning himself, and a Kingsguard knight from their own house! Spring was truly a joyous time.
"Let's stay here some more," Hoster seconded, "then we'll return. We have Maester Forlan's lessons too, so we have to be there as well." He smirked, while Edmun grimaced. There were things on which the two cousins differed, despite being uncannily alike. Hoster was the son of the second son of Lord Walter, while Edmun had been born from the third son. They had been born in the same year though, and both shared the common traits of House Whent; red hair, tall stature, easy smiles. Both of them were already almost five and a half feet tall. But while Hoster was still a bit fleshy, Edmun had grown into a more lean build.
"But my lord," said Ser Agron, "what if we are late?" Ser Agron wanted to present himself to the Kingsguard when they arrive. He was the best lance in Harrenhal after all, and a very good swordsman, better than most. Also, he was the son of the previous steward of Harrenhal, and most importantly he had recently been made a knight. A proper acquaintance with the Kingsguard would go a long way for Ser Agron, or so he had claimed in the stables. Warren had wanted to meet them as well, but he had admitted dispondently in the stables that he was too lowborn to be a Kingsguard, nor was he knight yet.
"We won't be, I promise," Edmun replied, eager to resume their ride. Ser Agron's stiff face betrayed some anxiety, which gave Edmun a pause. Had we been some other unruly boys Ser Agron would have playfully clouted our skulls and have had his way. Not Edmun and Hoster though, they were his lord's grandsons. A frown fleeted across Edmun's face; he glanced at Hoster, but he was more interested elsewhere. "I promise we won't take too much of your time Ser Agron," he added whole heartedly. The two older men nodded.
The cousins wheeled their horses and rode along the shore. Their two companions rode to the left of them, going back to the role of sporting grown-ups. While Hoster was more content in appreciating his healthy black horse, Edmun chose to look around. The beautiful scenery mesmerized him, and the thought about forcing Ser Agron and Warren to stay with them started fleeing. Maesters had always written of this place in such ghastly words, and tales of horror were told everywhere. Edmun could never relate to them. Harrenhal was beautiful in its own way, the biggest stronghold in the realm beside a large beautiful lake; not just a burnt castle where ghosts of Harren the Black and his sons roamed and moaned. There were charred towers and rickety chambers aye, but Edmun and the others never entered them, instead choosing to stay in the more habitable regions of the castle. One can always avoid the bad parts, and live in the good ones. People are free to say what they want, Edmun didn't care. Harrenhal was his home.
"Do you think we'll get to talk to Ser Arthur Dayne," Hoster asked, breaking the silence.
"I don't know," Edmun answered truthfully. "What do you think Ser Agron?"
"Oh you will, or so I've heard," Ser Agron replied. "Ser Arthur Dayne always talks to lesser lords and smallfolk wherever he goes. Young ones in particular."
"Really," asked a puzzled Edmun. "I thought he'd be a busy man, being a Kingsguard and all."
"He is," Ser Agron replied. "But he is smart, and wise. He knows what he means to the people of the realm, so he chooses to lead by example. It inspires loyalty among the subjects."
Warren chuckled. "It'd come handy now won't it? The King is one of those mad ones!"
That made Edmun look at Warren. "The King is mad? What do you mean?"
"Aye he is, in literal sense," he said. "Loves to execute the criminals by burning. Never washes himself, and never cuts his hair, people say he is afraid of knives and blades. Targaryens are often crazy. Everyone knows it."
"That's odd," said Hoster. "If King Aerys is mad, then why are people not against him."
Warren chuckled again. "It was winter for last four years lad. People were more worried about freezing to death than a mad king. The last four years were quiet. Maybe something will happen now. Winter is over, and the lords will go back to their game."
"The game never stopped Warren," said Ser Agron. "Prince Rhaegar wed Lady Elia during the winter. The game is always played here."
"What game," asked Hoster.
"Why young lord, the only game they can play," said Warren. "The game of thrones."
Edmun felt himself bristle. He had heard this phrase, and not in good light. He looked down at his horse, who was trotting along without any care in the world. "What do you think Ser Agron?"
Ser Agron gave him an assuring look. "Don't you worry about that lad. You enjoy your first spring. It will all be good. Going against the King would mean war, and no one wants that. The Lannisters are the only one who hold a grudge, that is all. The Crown has the Dornish and the Stormlords firmly behind it. Prince of Dragonstone's wife is a Dornish Princess, and the previous Lord Baratheon was a good friend of King Aerys, when he was sane that is. The Reachmen too support the Crown, the Lords of Tyrell have always loved to lick the Dragon boots."
Edmun nodded. Hoster asked some more questions, something about the Vale lords and the Starks of Winterfell, which Edmun chose to not listen to. Instead he shifted his focus again to the lake. There was a breeze in the air, wafting smells of grass and wet earth into his nostrils. Sadly the lake wasn't catching any of it. The ice in the middle still prevented waves in the lake. How beautiful will it be, when the whole lake will melt, it will be all blue with waves. Edmun's eyes traced the shore from where he rode, further along to the bend ahead where a large smooth rock was lying.
He did a double take. What is that? His eyes stayed fixed at the rock as his horse kept walking along. "Look," Edmun pointed in the direction of the rock, lying so close to the lake that its one end had frozen into it. "What is that," he asked Warren to his left. Warren didn't reply at once. Instead his eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed; this got Edmun interested. The rock was long and flat as a doughpan. Not just that, it was shining at places, catching the light like polished wood. He looked at Ser Agron, whose face was stoic, refusing to budge. Edmun urged his horse forward, and Hoster followed his suit from behind.
"Wait Lord Edmun," Ser Agron called, but he didn't listen this time. These were his grandfather's lands after all, so Edmun had a right to see what's in them. It was the first time he had come here, and the rock seemed out of place. It was catching more and more light as he neared it. What makes a stray stone that shiny, and that flat, and that large? Is that really a stone?
Edmun dismounted when he was in front of it; a large rock, thin and flat as a door, about four feet long, two feet wide, polished stone. He also spotted etchings on it surface. It's a plaque, he thought, but it is too large to be a plaque. Hoping that his horse doesn't run away, Edmun walked towards the frozen lake, to its bank where the stone lay. Hoster followed him.
"My lords," he heard Warren and Agron's calls.
Edmun bent down, and ran a hand across the wet surface. He glanced behind at Hoster, who looking over from a distance. It had inscriptions on it, or rather used to have. The writing had been chipped away crudely and cruelly, by someone who had apparently loathed the words; Edmun could sense it. Rocks can't be burned, so they must be chipped away. His eyes looked it over, identifying stray hooks in between the crude gashes made by chisel and hammer. The hooks had been part of some script once, wholesome and coherent, before being destroyed with caustic rage. His eyes caught something else at the end touching the lake. There the engravings were much deeper, deep enough to not be corroded completely, hence discernible. Edmun moved and bored his eyes into them, and made out two clear words, or so he thought.
AEGON'S CHARTER
Is it Aegon? Edmun wasn't sure. Warren's voice came from behind "It's time to go lad," He said. "We'll be late!"
"Do you know what this is," Edmun asked them. HIs curiosity had peaked. It was no common name, but a King's name, or rather, the name of five Kings that had ruled the realm once.
"Not a clue," Ser Agron replied effortlessly. "Why don't you ask the Maester. You can ask him can't you? Cmon off we go," he patted his horse's side.
Edmun frowned, but obeyed Ser Agron. They wheeled their horses around and started riding back to the castle. Edmun turned to glance at the rock one last time. Aegon, it had said. Why would someone destroy writing which had a King's name on it. Which Aegon is it? Five Aegons had ruled the realm, each with his own moniker. It has to the one called Unworthy. His words must have been unworthy, so here they lie beside the lake. He asked Ser Agron about it, to which he gave a measured reply. "Aye it says Aegon, but not Aegon the Unworthy. It is the fifth Aegon, Aegon the Unlikely."
Didn't you just say that you had no clue. Edmun looked at the others. His cousin didn't seem interested, while the two men were as reluctant as they could be.
The sun had risen up high by the time they neared the village. Lively chatter of people became very pronounced as they rode on, and the scent of earth and grass gave way to the smell of freshly baked bread and roasted meat. Soon enough they had left the nature behind and were amongst people. The village had woken up fully, and the folks were out and about. The castle would be busy as well by now. His family must be at the breakfast table, eating bacon and eggs and bread. They'd begin their daily routine after that. His father Lord Clynton Whent and his uncles would begin their lordly tasks, hearing to petitioners and punishing criminals and what not; his mother Lady Gisella and his aunts must have already began ordering around the servants and kitchen staff; his elder sister Milly would go to her septa like the other highborn maidens in the castle, for studying and singing songs and knitting clothes, things that girls do. This was time for duty for everyone, or chores depending on your place in Harrenhal. Edmun himself would be going to the Maester's quarters for his lessons, after that things would be different than daily because of the Kingsguards' arrival, or so he hoped.
By the time they reached Harrenhal the scents of pristine nature were totally gone, and the air became heavy with sounds characteristic of human settlements. They went past the gates of Harrenhal, under the thick grey archway that led into the castle's courtyard. Edmun watched as they trailed past a long queue of ragtag villagers, local folks who used to come to his uncles and father daily ever since spring broke, asking for repairs to the damage done during winter, grain to quench their hunger, seeds to plant the fields, and other things. He spotted some familiar faces among them, though he couldn't recall where he had seen them before. They live in the village, so the village mayhaps. He headed straight to the stables, where he handed over his horse to a lanky stableboy, who took the reins with his frostbite ridden fingers. Warren and Ser Agron took their leave there, and walked away towards the barracks. Edmun turned towards his cousin. "So what do you think was written on that stone," he asked.
"I don't know," Hoster answered. "It might not be that important you know."
"Maybe, but don't you want to know about it?"
Hoster shrugged. "Why would I really?"
"Oh come on," said Edmun. "You surely saw Warren and Ser Agron's reaction when I asked them about it. They had the same faces our parents have when we ask them about the bedding ceremony."
Edmun hadn't meant it as a joke, but Hoster laughed anyway. "We should do it again," he said, chortling. "Let's see how they do this time. We will soon be men, they surely know that we know." Edmun rolled his eyes, which made Hoster talk further. "Fine fine we will ask the maester."
They freshened up in their rooms and made way for the Maester's quarters. Edmun greatly admired Maester Forlan. He was a good man, and wise, a fountain of knowledge. He had taught his father and uncles, and had delivered most of the children in Harrenhal, including Edmun and his sister. Edmun wasn't as fond of his lessons as some others, but he gave the maester his due respect. Today he had an important question to ask him. What was that rock, what was written on it, which of the five Aegons does it talk about? He made his way through the gravelly courtyard, dodging past rushing servants and soldiers, towards the maester's quarters. He spotted his thin grey clad frame from afar; he was busy talking to his second aunt Lady Mara.
"Maester Forlan," he said when he presented himself to the wise man. "I am here!"
A warm smile lit up the old maester's face and he turned to face him. "Oh good. This is a lucky day for you young lords," he spoke in his kind voice. "We won't be having our lessons today. I have some important work to do, for Lord Whent and the Kingsguard knights."
Edmun frowned, which puzzled the maester. "Go have fun Lord Edmun. No lessons today, don't you children love that?" He turned and starting walking away. Edmun followed him. "Wait Maester Forlan. I have a question."
Maester stopped to listen to him. "Hurry up my lord. I am short of time today, as you can see."
Edmun cut to the point. "I found a rock near the eastern shore of the lake. A big rock. It had the name of the fifth Aegon Targaryen. Ser Agron said..."
Maester Forlan cut him off, his voice intense all of a sudden. "Hush now," his eyes had narrowed dagerously. He came closer to Edmun. "Don't talk about this here. We'll speak of this in the evening, or tomorrow." He walked away, and Edmun heard him muttering, '..why didn't they break it down when they had the chance..."
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"The realm sees hardships everyday, but it keeps moving forward." Ser Arthur Dayne spoke in his regal voice as he leaned forward from his seat; looking at the children with a smile, who listened with rapt attention. The Kingsguard had arrived before noon as they all were told. They had soon retired to the Lord's solar with Lord Walter, along with Edmun's father, uncles and two eldest male cousins. It was after an hour or so that Ser Arthur had emerged from inside to announce that he'd talk to the young lords and ladies now. The main hall was emptied, and a plush armchair was placed at head of the room. Chairs were placed at the front for the members of the Whent family, while the other children of the castle (and even those from the village) were seated behind them on the matted floor.
"It moves past hardships, winning against freezing winters and hot summers, because brave men will it so. Men and women, both. We all have parts to play, different parts, but they all lead to the same goal. Even if you are not a Kingsguard or even a knight, you deserve the same dignity as every person does, being a child of the Gods. Each of you can be of service to the Gods, to the realm, to your lord, and of course to the King." Ser Arthur Dayne concluded with these remarks, and many of his audience clapped loudly. Edmun looked at his sister Milly who was sitting beside him at the front, looking at Ser Arthur with wide misty eyes. She is in love already, He smirked and turned his gaze back to the knight. Who wouldn't be? The Sword of the Morning seemed to have been brought to life straight from a fairytale. He was handsome, and noble, and gallant; and had a legendary sword. Perhaps that is the reason why his companion Ser Oswell Whent was still inside talking business in Lord Walter's solar, while Ser Arthur Dayne had come out here to say inspiring things to children. They both have parts to play. "Whether you are a lord or a peasant, give everyone the respect that they deserve," said Ser Arthur.
"Now I want you all to ask questions," Ser Arthur spoke further in a nonchalant fashion. "You can ask anything. Don't feel shy."
Of course most questions were about how to become a Kingsguard knight, worded in different ways by wide eyed boys. Edmun listened to the knight with full attention. He himself had often dreamed of becoming a Kingsguard, defending the King and serving the realm; but most of the time that dream had seemed too far-fetched. Edmun was a skilled archer, and a good rider; but swordplay had always been hard for him, despite his efforts. A knight's primary weapon was the sword, and as long as Edmun couldn't master it dreaming of Kingsguard would be silly.
"Kingsguards give up everything," spoke Ser Arthur. "Family, friends, lands, loved ones, everything. It sounds very gallant, but it is a hard life. The only property held by a Kingsguard is his honor, and the currency in which he spends it, is blood. Blood and sacrifice." Many gasped on hearing it. Ser Arthur continued. "Only the best men who are dedicated to serve the realm get the honor to become a Kingsguard."
On hearing that Edmun remembered something, and he raised his hand for the first time. Ser Arthur gestured at him to speak. "Ser Arthur," he began, unsure of how to address such a great man. "There is a man sworn to my father, his name is Warren. He helps everyone who needs help and doesn't ask anything in return, and he is the best swordsman in Harrenhal; but he doesn't think he can be a Kingsguard knight."
"Why does he say so child," Ser Arthur asked.
"He says he is too lowborn for it," Edmun added. "I asked the maester about it; he said that Kingsguard knights are all highborn lords." Ser Arthur's violet eyes narrowed, and Edmun continued in earnest. "Ser Arthur, can you meet Warren. Talk to him, see how good he is."
Suddenly Ser Arthur looked very different. It was as if the knight had worn a different face, a face that was heavy with thought, not the previous face of one's wise uncle telling his nephews and nieces stories. "I will talk to him young lord. If he is as good as you say he is, then I will even introduce him to the Prince. Are you happy now child?"
Edmun nodded sheepishly. It was Milly who spoke next. "Ser Arthur, how does the Crown ensure that the knights chosen as Kingsguards are more dedicated than all others? There have been many vile knights as well."
Ser Arthur smiled. "It is wisdom of the King young lady, that determines the quality of the men surrounding him. Prince Rhaegar," he cleared his throat, "is a great leader..."
"What about King Aerys Ser Arthur," blurted out Martyn the Heir, son of Edmun's eldest uncle, a huge prick. "Is he.."
"You shouldn't interrupt others when they are speaking boy" said Ser Arthur, and Martyn paled and shut up. "Kingsguard are supposed to guard the King, and as such they have to be someone the King trusts. Oftimes such men are highborn, because the King hardly has time to know many common people personally. Ser Duncan the Tall was one of the Kingsguards who were commoners. He was a hedge knight, but he had the trust of the King of that time, and hence he went on to become the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard."
"Does it mean that children such as us can never be Kingsguard," asked Tommy, son of the head cook of Harrenhal.
Ser Arthur seemed puzzled. "It is up to the Gods," he conceded. "There are places where everyone has an equal chance to rise high. In Bravos there is an open test for one to join the Iron Bank; same thing happens in Tyrosh too, in its banks, as well as the Tyroshi guilds making lenses, lace gowns, carpets, and other wares that our Westerosi ladies and lords love. They hold tests to enroll acolytes. In Westeros the closest thing to this is the Citadel where anyone can enroll..."
"Not anyone Ser Arthur," said Milly, and the other girls looked at her with mixed emotions. Does she really want to be a maester, Edmun mused.
"True," said Ser Arthur. "It was tried once here, to improve the chances of the common people, so they can better their lives. It was in the time of the King's grandfather, Aegon Targaryen fifth of his name; but the endeavor was rejected and removed, but let's not..."
Hearing the name of the fifth Aegon clicked something inside Edmun's mind. He remembered the rock beside the lake,whose writing was removed as well, violently at that. It was as if a burden of some heavy mystery had shed off its weight from his mind, and he had jumped free. "Aegon's Charter?" He blurted out before he could stop.
Ser Arthur's eyes snapped back to Edmun, and bored into him. "What did you say?"
Edmun gulped. "Ae..gon's Charter."
"What do you know about that?"
"Nothing," he admitted. "I read it somewhere."
Ser Arthur nodded and looked away, but something told Edmun that the knight wasn't done with him. "Are there any more questions," he asked in a definitive tone. When no one replied he got up from his seat, and gestured them all to disperse.
It was well past noon when they all dispersed from the hall. As soon as Edmun reached the courtyard he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was one of the men at arms travelling with the Kingsguard knights, who told him that Ser Arthur wants to talk to him. Edmun was led by the man towards the stables, where Ser Arthur Dayne stood waiting for him, leaning against the wooden railing enclosing the horses inside. "Come young lord," he called, as he fed a carrot to a grey mare. Edmun walked to him, unsure of what to say, or think.
"Tell me," the knight asked, pushing strands of silver hair behind his ears. "What do you know of Aegon's Charter?"
"Nothing ser," Edmun said truthfully. "We went for a ride today, me and my cousin Hoster. We found a large rock beside the lake. It had this engraved on it."
"Just this?"
"No, Ser Arthur," Edmun mumbled. He had heard great tales of this man, of his prowess in swordsmanship, his legendary sword Dawn, of his defeat of the Kingswood Brotherhood. It was all too much for Edmun, so much that he avoided Ser Arthur's eyes. "Look at me when you speak to me boy," Ser Arthur said in an amused tone. "I won't bite."
Edmun looked at Ser Arthur. "There were other words too, once. They had all been chipped away."
There was a pause, and then Ser Arthur did something that Edmun didn't expect. He threw his head back and laughed out loud, and the mare shied away from him. Edmun watched the Kingsguard knight as he laughed like any other common man. His laughter was infectious, and Edmun smiled as well despite his puzzlement. "Why are you laughing Ser Arthur," he asked finally.
"It is ironic that's all," said Ser Arthur as he wiped his eyes. "Here, of all places." He cleared his throat and made his voice solemn, though his eyes still danced with bitter mirth. "I have visited many castles around Westeros young lord...what's your name?"
"Edmun."
Ser Arthur nodded in affirmation. "Let me restart Lord Edmun. Do you know why I talk to children wherever I go, and not the adults?"
Edmun shook his head. "It is because most adults are hopeless," he replied, "set in their ways. If you want real change, you have to start at a young age, though in many places the children are hopeless as well." The knight smiled a bitter smile. "So, as I was saying, I have visited many castles Lord Edmun, mostly big ones of Lordly houses I will admit. Yet out of all of them it was only in Harrenhal that I was questioned about fairness and lordly privileges. Like all the other castles of Westeros in Harrenhal too men and women seem to know their place. Lords stand away from the servants, and make sure that they know who commands. Not the children though. Sure you and your cousins were seated on chairs while others sat on mats, but that is..."
"It was the steward who insisted on it Ser Arthur," Edmun cut in. "Not us."
Ser Arthur gave him a look when Edmun interrupted him. "As I was saying, out of all the castles that I have visited it was only in Harrenhal that I didn't have to talk separately to the lordly children and the common children. Unlike other places the children of Harrenhal sit together. Why is it so I wonder? Why do young lords here care for the common people?
"Not everyone is like that here Ser Arthur. My uncle's son Martyn bullies other..."
"Very well. Why do you care Lord Edmun, about the people?"
Edmun was taken aback. "I never said that I.."
"You want your father's man Warren to meet me right," said Ser Arthur. "So he too has a chance to become a Kingsguard," he said the word as if it was a jape, "like any other lord, even though he is lowborn. What made you think of him? And finally, what is so special about Harrenhal, that all the children here were made to sit together?"
"We weren't made to sit together my lord," Edmun said. "We chose to."
"Why?"
"Why not," he said and stared back at the knight. "We have always sat together, it is nothing new."
"Tell me," said Ser Arthur.
"We had winter for the last four years," Edmun said. "It wasn't that severe compared to previous ones if Maester Forlan is to be believed, but there were nights when the cold became unbearable. Harrenhal is poor, and is broken and burnt at many places. Not all the inhabited chambers can beat the chill, there are cracks in the walls from which wind gets in. and once they do you can't stay in them let alone sleep there. So on most nights the whole populace used to sleep in the same halls, children in particular. We all used to share warmth from the same fires, we ate together, played together, slept together. When we did that, we weren't lords or peasants, we all were children wanting to stay warm and safe, and staying together gave us that. Sure the winter is done, and the nights of sleeping cold and frightened are behind us, why stop now?"
Ser Arthur had a bitter smile on his face. "Divided by birth, united by winter," he said to himself. "The winter is over though, so that might change."
"Ser?"
"Your man Warren may not be the only one getting a royal audience. Perhaps the Prince would like to meet you as well, young lord."
"What do you mean Ser Arthur?"
"I shouldn't tell you this, but you'll find out soon enough anyway," said Ser Arthur, as he pushed himself off the railing and stood up straight. "Your grandfather is soon to organize a huge tourney here, where lords and ladies from all over the Seven Kingdoms will come and take part. Prince Rhaegar will be there as well, and he'd love to meet you."
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"Maester Forlan. I am here," Edmun called when he at the door of the maester's chamber. It was evening now. All the important business seemed to have been done, as most had retired to their leisurely activities. "Come in Lord Edmun," the maester called.
He was sitting behind his desk, writing something on a parchment. Edmun walked and took a seat opposite him. "Tell me about Aegon's Charter Maester Forlan."
The measter looked up. "Why do you want to know about it lad," he asked. "Go play outside, or ride. Do things that boys do."
"I said its name in front of Ser Arthur," he said, and the maester looked up in alarm. "He seemed to know about it. He even talked to me alone after that."
"That was foolish boy," Maester barked in anger, and Edmun was taken aback. "Children shouldn't speak of things they know nothing about. Do you know how much trouble you might have caused?"
"I am not a child anymore," Edmun talked back. "I will soon be thirteen, almost a man grown."
"How much of the world have you even seen Lord Edmun," said Maester Forlan, his wrinkled throat moving up and down. "There are things we learn with age. Know your place."
"Will you tell me about that phrase," Edmun pushed. "What does it mean?"
"Do you really want to know?"
"Yes maester," he replied.
The maester closed his eyes as he leaned forward on his desk, and sighed in exasperation. "The meaning is plain enough," he said. "It means a charter, written by Aegon Targaryen Fifth of his name." He cleared his throat and opened his eyes, which were hollow all of sudden. He began speaking in a haunted voice. "I was there that day," he said. "The day they tried to take over. The grounds on which you rode in the morning, they are green and clean today; but about twenty years ago a huge fight took place in there. Many were killed there, and the land was red with blood." Edmun's eyes widened. He remembered the green tourney grounds from this morning, and the lake. There was no sign of any battle, and nothing unusual. Except for the large stone everyone is so afraid of, he recalled.
"Who fought there Maester Forlan," he asked. "Why did they fight?"
"We will get to that," he replied. "First tell me, what do you know about the fifth Aegon?"
"Not much really," Edmun admitted. "He married a Blackwood Lady from the Riverlands, who later became the Queen. He is also called Aegon the Unlikely."
"Yes," affirmed the Maester, though he had lost the easy look on his face. "He was called the 'Unlikely' because no one expected him to become a King, until he was crowned by the Great Council. He was the youngest of four sons of King Maekar, but his eldest two brothers died, while the third became a maester for the Night's Watch. So there he was, an Unlikely King, a man who had until then spent most of his life wandering around unnoticed, living and laughing with the smallfolk, always accompanied by a hedge knight Ser Duncan the Tall. No one had said a word when he married a Lady who was the third daughter of House Blackwood, a weaker house in comparision, for everyone thought that he would never amount to much. So much had his time with the commonfolk influenced him, that at the Great Council most high lords considered him half a peasant. But he had the strongest blood, and the Crown went to him."
With feeble hands the maester reached for his brass tumbler, from which he took a sip of water. "So the realm had a Peasant King, a married man of three and thirty years. He had big plans for his Seven Kingdoms, to give the populace rights and liberties that he thought they deserved, that he'd witnessed them being deprived of in his time with the smallfolk. Fixed revenue, a charter of basic rights, protection from lords and middlemen, entitlements to bread, water and roof, and many more. When he enforced some of these the Lords resisted, calling it an encroachment on their lordly rights. There was a terrible winter during the early years of his reign, and when the King sent aid to the North during it he was called too generous and weak."
Edmun nodded, feeling a respect blooming inside him for this late King. This is how a King should be like, he thought. Maester Forlan continued. "So to pacify the Lords he came up with a plan. He arranged betrothals of his children to members of many Great Houses of Westeros. A cordial relation with the Lord Paramounts would have surely helped him to push his smallfolk friendly plans. However, all his children were cut from a very different cloth, nor had they been told of their father's desires from a young age. Aegon had never controlled his children, mostly leaving them to do as as they wished, as he himself had done when he was a boy. That became his undoing. Each of his issue rejected the betrothals, and followed their own heart. His heir married a commoner and rejected the throne, his second son Jaehaerys married his own sister Shiera, and his third son Daeron stayed unmarried. So instead of coming under the royal fold the Great Houses became angry and hostile; and Aegon's carefully crafted schemes were torn asunder." Edmun nodded and looked down, unsure of what to think of it. "King Aegon didn't give up. Now he thought of other ways to fulfil his plans. He had lost faith in the Lords, and now knew that going for any further reform would mean going against the noble houses." Maester Forlan remembered something else. "Bear in mind though, that in all this the North hadn't been considered as much as the other Kingdoms. Ever since the Dance of the Dragons the Starks of Winterfell have mostly kept to themselves." Edmun nodded, and the maester continued.
"Everyone knows that the first Aegon Targaryen melted the Seven Kingdoms into one with dragons," he spoke. "It was dragons that had given the Targaryen kings real power. Ever since the last dragon died they had to rely on political marriages and alliances to retain supremacy. Aegon thought of going back to the old days. If he had a dragon, like the first Aegon, he could once again beat the Great houses into submission. So he ordered his family and confidants to restart efforts of hatching the dragon eggs. Wise men from all over the world were called, having knowledge of many disciplines, including alchemy and sorcery."
"Sorcery?" Edmun was shocked.
"Yes Lord Edmun," the maester looked pointedly at Edmun. "In addition to that,.. he drafted a Charter. It is said the it was a redraft of another Charter written by those of Valyrian blood wanting to go back to the old days of Valyrian sorcery. Whatever the truth may be, the Charter presented by Aegon had none of it. In it he wrote of justice, of fairness. He proposed right and liberties every person deserves, irrespective of birth. Rights that are necessary, and ones that are additional. He ordered copies of it to be engraved on rocks and stone walls, to be placed everywhere. Once again the North was excluded."
"How did he get them placed Maester Forlan," asked Edmun. "Weren't the noble houses against him."
"King Aegon managed to get the support of the Stormlands and Dorne with skillful diplomacy," he spoke, "and with their support along with the Iron Throne's treasury he raised a legion, not to fight a war, but to do his work. It was named after him, 'Aegon's Legion', and consisted of all sorts of people, hedge knights, peasants, second and third sons, septons and septas, and the knights sworn to the Crown; they were a diverse lot, but despite their differences they were dedicated to the King, and his Charter. The Crown trained them, and armed them. They moved all over Westeros, except the North and Iron Islands, placing Aegon's Charter everywhere, teaching about it to people, and enforcing it. The Lords were stricken, but they didn't want to go against the Crown. The King was already preparing for the possibility of war. He had the Stormlanders and Dornish behind him, and he was increasing the efforts for hatching the eggs. Some called him desperate, even mad. Many believe that those efforts delved heavily into sorcery. But everything went wrong one day.."
"Summerhall," said Edmun.
"Yes my lord. They were trying to hatch dragon eggs there, but something went wrong, and the whole castle exploded and burned down, along with the King and his Kingsguard, and the Prince of Dragonflies. Once again, Aegon's schemes were torn asunder, along with him."
"What happened then," he asked.
"As soon as the King died his son Jaehaerys took the Throne, and the first order he gave was the disbandment of the Aegon's Legion. The Legion lost their legitimacy and support, and were branded outlaws. The lords started hunting them down wherever they could find them. The men and women of the legion fled when they were, but they didn't lose hope. They wanted to continue their original fight, so the members met secretly near God's Eye." Maester paused. "Perhaps that is what they had planned beforehand, in case such a thing happens, to meet near God's Eye. Perhaps they wanted to take over Harrenhal for food and weapons. Your grandfather Lord Walter Whent was informed of this, so he assembled his men and rode out against the outlaws."
Edmun gasped. "Why," he managed to say.
The maester didn't answer him. "A battle ensued, and the outlaws were routed. They were scattered after that, and that was the end of Aegon's legion." Maester cleared his throat again. "They splintered into three groups, with differing opinions. One wanted to wage war against the new King Jaehaerys, so they hid themselves in the Kingswood. Soon they all turned mad, and started calling themselves the Kingswoord Brotherhood. The Smiling knight was once a huge supporter of King Aegon, but hardships turned him and his followers insane, and his Brotherhood started hunting lords and commoners alike. They were eliminated last year, when the Smiling Knight was slain by Ser Arthur Dayne himself."
"What about the others," Edmun asked, his lips parted.
"The second group still believed in their fight, and thought that they could still win. They were the wisest of the whole legion, consisting of peasants, hedge knights and artisans. They had been rejected by every Southern Kingdom, so they looked towards the one mainland kingdom their King had all but ignored."
"The North."
"Yes my lord. That group went North, to Winterfell. They asked shelter from Lord Rickard Stark, and begged for his leave to preach the Charter to the Northerners. They presented a scheme through which they could make the North more prosperous than all the other kingdoms, through the commonfolk of the North. Example was given of the Manderlys, how sheltering them had benefited the North. But the Stark in Winterfell was a lord too, and he sensed correctly that giving power to the peasants would mean that he would hold less of it. So he wasn't moved."
"What happened then?"
"At first Lord Rickard wanted to send them away, or imprison them if things go bad. He was convinced otherwise by his Maester Walys Flowers. Lord Rickard was himself a young man of twenty. He had traveled and spent time in the Free cities before his father had passed, so he saw virtue in his Maester's urgings. The second group was accepted by Winterfell and was given shelter in a nearby village called Wintertown, where they began their work. They began inviting skilled smallfolk to Wintertown, and marketing the coveted Northern goods and commodities. They also encouraged the commoners to adopt better trade practices. Lord Rickard took loans from the Iron Bank of Bravos, and built roads, inns, and shelters. Trade and commerce flourished, and soon more and more people moved towards Winterfell. They were given training and work there, and Wintertown thrived, turning into the second city of the North." The maester smiled. "However the second group soon forgot the name of Aegon Targaryen. Lord Rickard had insisted that they shed off their past loyalties and become fully dedicated towards the Starks, and the group had obeyed. They swore themselves to Winterfell, and the charter was renamed and rewritten, many of its points amended or omitted, many new added, to suit Lord Stark's needs, and to pacify any possible slight offered to King Jaehaerys. No longer was it called Aegon's Charter. Now it was called 'North's Way'." Maester Forlan finished with a smirk.
"What about the third group Maester Forlan," he asked.
"The Third group.." the maester paused. "They were fierce supporters of Aegon Targaryen. Many of them had Valyrian blood in them, and had often delved into sorcery. It is said that they were the ones closest to Aegon, and knew more of his plans than the others. They loved their King, but they hated the lords, and the smallfolk too for supposedly enabling them. So they fled Westeros, and founded a sellsword company in the East. After that they managed to infiltrate the Golden Company and kill its commanders. The Golden Company was taken over by them, and they renamed it as the Company of Dragons. Time away from here has only festered their hatred for the lords of the Seven Kingdoms." Suddenly Maester Forlan's voice became very quiet, as if he were afraid that someone might be listening. This scared Edmun, but he kept listening in earnest. "It is said that they are biding their time," he said. "They are watching, observing from a distance, preparing for the imminent day of reckoning; and when the time is right they will strike. They will take over the realm and smash the lordly powers aside, teach the smallfolk a sharp lesson for betraying the good King, and will implement the Aegon's Charter in full."
A chill went down Edmun's spine. and he tore his eyes away from the maester as he shivered. He remembered the frigid nights of the last four years, when the cold winds had howled against the walls and windows. He could see the warm sun setting outside the chamber's window, eager to rise the next day, hotter and stronger; but despite that Edmun's ears were ringing with fear, as if the winter had never gone away. It was still there, howling inside Edmun's mind, hungry for their lives.
In the books House Whent is quite small and almost dead. I have expanded it out in this fic. Here Lord Walter Whent the organiser of the infamous Tourney of Harrenhal has three sons and two daughters. Edmun Whent is the son of the third one, Clynton Whent.
Next chapter will feature the characters from the canon. Thanks for reading!