The only fear old Hoster Lauston ever had, was the fear that he wouldn't live to see his eightieth nameday. Apart from that, nothing.
He was born around the Third Blackfyre Rebellion, fought in the Fourth and Fifth, and lived through Robert's Rebellion and the sack of King's Landing. He killed many men, and nearly got killed himself half a dozen times. He loved peace but did not fear battle. He paid his taxes and honored the Gods, as any proper Westerosi man should.
In his youth he was regarded as a handsome man—tall figure, comely features and witty tongue. When he and other soldiers fought the Band of Nine in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, he had a new whore every night. They came to him naturally. As he grew old, his comely features wrinkled and his spine stooped, but when he smiled and looked you in the eye, you could see a hint of the daredevil youth.
After his wars had ended, he settled in King's Landing, purchasing a small house inside an alley at the Hook. He considered himself a fortunate man. He had a comfortable house, a fine family of ten, and eight-and-seventy Gold Dragons in savings, a considerable amount. He lived in a refined neighborhood free of the dangers of the slums, close to the Red Keep in the finer districts of the city.
At 298AC, the fifteenth year of King Robert's Reign, he was Six-and-Seventy. He no longer managed the household—that was his son's task now. The major part of his time was spent on droning old tales, and taking his Great-Grandchildren on long, slow walks to the Sept of Baelor to light a candle for the Mother and the Maiden.
When the disturbing rumors of Lord Jon Arryn's sudden death and the King's ride North reached his ears, he could not sit idle. After all, he was the Great-Grandfather of the household. His only son, Jesmond Lauston was off in his draper's shop down in the Street of Looms, Jesmond's wife Elys was sick, and both of his grandsons were absent. So he summoned his Firstborn Grandson's wife, Katie, a pretty woman slender and black-haired, and the mother of his two Great-Grandchildren.
"Have you heard the disturbing rumors?" he asked his Granddaughter-in-law.
Katie smiled. "The death of the Hand? Surely, that has nothing to do with us."
She was very pretty when she smiled. But she was the sort of woman that cared little about their looks, and spent more time worrying about chores of the house. Occasionally, when they went to pray at the Sept, she would don her only coat made of squirrel fur and make up her hair, looking beautiful when she did so.
"The King's riding north, further north than any King has ever been in my life," old Hoster replied. That wasn't exactly true, but he liked to use his age to make him sound wise. "He is seeking help. Something's wrong, I can feel it."
"Should I stock some bread and cheese?" Katie asked. She knew her old Grandfather-in-Law liked their household stockpiled with enough food for a siege.
"Hmm. That would be best." Hoster twirled his white beard carefully. "How much bread, cheese and wine are stored in the cellars?"
"Enough for three moons," Katie answered immediately. She knew this wasn't true, but it pleased the old man. And, if Hoster insisted on checking, she could swiftly take a trip down to the Street of Flour and buy a dozen loaves.
"Good… that is good. You are truly wonderful." Hoster smiled. He held to the simple philosophy that no matter what happened, as long as he had three moons worth of food stocked in his house, everything would be fine. "Most likely the King is inviting Stark to come south. Northmen… damn Northmen. If they're coming into King's Landing, we'd better stock up before they eat and drink the city dry!"
Katie only laughed prettily and said nothing. She was a simple woman, who didn't hold a grudge against anything or anyone. She was kind atop everything else.
"I don't know what we would do without you. My only son Jesmond is always down in his storefront selling cloth, and that sickly wife of his is on bed more often than not! You and I, we are the true breadwinners of the family." Hoster raised his voice. He liked how powerful he was sounding.
"We all have our difficulties," Katie said modestly. She did not feel comfortable talking about her Father-in-law and Mother-in-law as such.
"Aye, difficulties. And more are to come. I can sense it in my bones." He paused for a moment. "And where in seven hells are my Grandsons? Where's Arstor?" Arstor was his firstborn Grandson, the husband of Katie.
"My husband's still working at the Red Keep." Arstor had a small position in the Red Keep, helping Grand Maester Pycelle to manage the library and occasionally educating the young children of the nobles of court.
"And Abrose? Where be him and his maniac of a wife?" Abrose was his second and youngest Grandson.
"They've went to watch the King's party leave the city, Grandfather."
"Crazier and crazier." Hoster shook his head.
A sudden groan of the front door downstairs heralded the return of Hoster's only son, Jesmond Lauston, from his shop. Hoster rose to his feet to hurry downstairs.
"Grandpapa, have you bought me sweets?" His Great-Grandson Nathan's sweet voice chirped from the front hall downstairs.
"No, not this time. I'm sorry, Nathan." Jesmond's deeper voice came in response.
"I hate you, Grandpapa."
"Nathan! Be polite with your Grandfather! Speak like that again and I will have to beat you." Katie scolded her son as she helped old Hoster down the stairs to the hall on the first floor. Nathan made himself quiet.
Jesmond smiled at that. He had a solemn face that wrinkled kindly whenever he laughed. Jesmond Lauston was in his fifties, though his hair and thick beard were still black. Like his father, he had a long face, thick eyebrows and noble features. Indeed, he was a fine-looking trader, and a very successful one. He owned a draper's shop in the Street of Looms with three storefronts. "I'll head down to the harbor on the morrow and buy him some peaches, those are his favorite. My grandson had better get some meat on his bones before winter comes," Jesmond remarked.
Winter. That word made Hoster uncomfortable. "My son! What say the news on the streets?" Hoster asked, sitting down on a chair.
"Not good." Jesmond's thick eyebrows knotted. "It seems that Jon Arryn's death triggered a ripple. The King's brother, Stannis, is fled to Dragonstone."
"But surely, there couldn't possibly be a war over here?" Katie interrupted, worried by the prospect of war and what it might do to the price of bread.
"Who knows? My merchant friends are worried that trade in Blackwater Bay might be shut down."
Hoster's small eyes sparked with worry. He slowly rose to his feet.
"My Son, the next time you pass through Fishmonger's Square, head up the Street of Steel, and buy a firm steel lock. Find Master Mott if need be, I know him personally, he overprices everything but he will give us a fine discount. We may need to reinforce our front door."
—*—
(As the story begins, I'd like to make a few things clear.
Firstly, I would like to state that like my last fanfic, this one is also heavily inspired by previous works— the way of cutting into the larger situation (wars, politics, society, etc.) through the eyes of commoners. Some of the characters are based on characters from these works. The works I used for reference are all in public domain. Most aren't in English, and haven't been translated in whole.
Secondly, I understand there will be a lot of characters in this story, with confusing relationships. To clarify everything, I'll put a list of characters after the next chapter. I'll post an updated version every few chapters to add in the new stuff.
Thirdly, English is not my first language. I've combed through the text a few times, but there might still be a few mistakes. I apologize in advance.
Enjoy!)