He had found work at a nearby inn. Men who were quick with a blade and capable with gold were welcome hands and Yorwick had taken to his work at the inn easily. He was tasked with doing, in essence, whatever the innkeeper wanted. At some times he would be working over a stove, at others he would be behind the counter joking and laughing with customers, on the odd occasion he would chase after a thief or, if they had been fool enough to threaten the innkeeper and his family, beat them back into their place. He was becoming relatively well known in the local quarter of the city. He was well-enough paid for his time and could afford to feed himself and Arianne.
The sun had set two hours past and the innkeeper had kept him working since just after sunrise. He looked around the large common room. Two men were talking in a corner and there was still a band of the city watch sat around a few jugs of ale, keeping themselves warm near a hearth. The innkeeper waved him over to a door near the stairs that lead to the customers' rooms above the common room. "Here's todays pay lad." The innkeeper was an elderly man, he had a weathered, tan face and his hands would twitch every so often. He wasn't very talkative but he was rather passionate when his preferred subjects arose. He and his family had owned this inn since centuries past, or at least so he said. The sack of coins rested in Yorwick's hands an seemed the proper weight. Yorwick bowed his head and left.
The road here was unpaved, winds reshaped its sandy surface daily. The Old Man was the only inn for a fair distance. Yorwick knew of a few competitors on this side of the Greenblood but most were closer to the sea and the docks. He set off down the road towards the small river dock nearby where he had tied up the small row boat that he and Arianne kept stowed beside the wooden jetty at the back of their house. Arianne had enjoyed tipping into the river more times than Yorwick could count. He swore that he had been on the verge of scuttling the damned thing himself just to stop it. Alas she liked the boat too much to permit him to just sink it. She had even engraved a name into the side of the prow. 'Fugitive' whilst he wished she had chosen a name less, suspicious, he didn't have the heart to try to alter it.
She had proven to be a fierce woman and more than his equal with a blade, he would not attempt to provoke her. At least not in such a manner. Despite her confident manner he had succeeded in learning her tells. She couldn't hide much from him anymore, and he doubted that he could hide much from her either. He wondered what she would think of the latest news. Her little brother had vanished from Yronwood. He wasn't altogether so little having seen nine and ten years but all the same.
Yorwick tied Fugitive to her docking post at the back of their home and opened the door. Arianne was waiting for him, she was sat on the floor, cross-legged. Their meal was waiting before her and a small bag sat beside her. He looked at her for a short while. Arianne had taken on a habit of wearing dresses that were as enticing as she could attempt to explain away. Yorwick had noticed that many women in Plankytown dressed in rather revealing clothes. When he saw other women dressed in so little cloth he always felt on edge. His Princess however, she continued to stun him each day and each night as well. They had both grown adventurous, their trust having grown quickly between them. He flushed slightly as he thought back on their activities of the previous night. He'd never heard of a man and woman doing that before.
He sat down across from her, she was flushed slightly as well. Perhaps she also had been remembering the previous night, or perhaps he had stared a little to hungrily. Then she smiled brightly and held out the small bag. Yorwick took it into hand. He opened it quickly. It was filled with stags and stars. He looked back up at her, she was grinning. "How'd you get this?" She pouted dramatically and came closer.
"I didn't steal it, if that's what you're asking." He waited for a better answer. She giggled softly. "I'm teaching children to read and write, their parents will pay each lesson." Yorwick nodded and didn't respond. "You said that I don't have a trade, I need a skill in order to get a job. Well I'm literate, that's more than at least half this town. Its a useful skill." She explained. Yorwick nodded, smiling softly.
"There's nothing wrong with being a beautiful young maester, my princess." Arianne huffed.
"I'm not a maester." They both grinned at each other, Arianne's pay combined with his own was better than could ever have been expected. They would live comfortably here, until they had to flee from Martell soldiers or Lord Ironfur's mission brought him northwards. A frown dropped onto Yorwick's face. Would Arianne come north with him? The Wall was so very different from the Great Sands of Dorne. She leant forwards and kissed him gently, washing away his thoughts. They settled down to eat and soon the topic of her brother came up.
"The Yronwoods and Martells warred for centuries, it is possible the Yronwoods murdered him." Arianne's face was rather pensive. She spoke calmly as if the topic was little more than their plans tomorrow and not the potential fate of her oldest brother. He supposed that there was little point in worry with such little in the way of news.
"Your father may have intended your hand for a Targaryen, but you've disappeared. Perhaps he has chosen to make do with your brother's hand. There is a Targaryen Princess still out there in Essos after all." Arianne nodded.
"It would explain why no one knows where he is, Father couldn't want for anyone to know if he had gone to treat with Targaryens." Yorwick enjoyed it when Arianne allowed herself to sit calmly and think through possibilities. He liked to imagine that it was he who had instilled this new doctrine in her. He wondered if the little Prince would remember their conversation in Yronwood. If the Prince was indeed treating with dragons he would be wise to recognise the virtues of silence. The danger of too many words. For words were wind and wind birthed storms.
The maesters would be quick to remind little Princes of what happens when the storm angers the dragon.