United we stand – Divided we Fall

Volume I - Chapter V – part 1 : Gold opens (almost) all locks

Gold opens all locks. No lock will hold against the power of gold. — George Herbert

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Drymoat, 196 A.C., third moon, second fortnight
Spring
Lucas

Two days ago, as we stood before Ser Board, the castellan of Drymoat, I had felt like the rope was already around my neck when he threatened us with the gallows so ominously. Fortunately, Dagon had taken the initiative and presented himself as Lord Gromond Goodbrother's second son and nephew to Lord Dalton Greyjoy. Clearly, the castellan hadn't expected this. Dagon had then explained how he had been saved by Captain Hook and Harmond and had introduced us as thralls refugees. Ser Board had fixed us for a long moment with suspicious eyes. He couldn't treat lightly such a claim. But it was visible it had irked him not to send us strait to the gallows on principle. He had asked several more questions to Dagon and to Captain Hook – we had decided beforehand he should represent us. Unfortunately, the castellan didn't seem interested in our story about a deposit in the vicinity of Brenntown. In the end, Ser Board had decided to wait for Lord Adderley Yew's return. Dagon was offered a 'guestroom' (with guards if I had to take a guess) and we were escorted back to our cell.

These two days, I used the time we were left alone to ponder on what happened to me. How had I reached this place in time and space? Was it an alternative reality? Was there a mean to go back ? But after hours of reflexion, I had to ask myself: did I really want to go back? What would I do on a planet I knew was doomed? If, and that was a very big 'if', I were to go back to Earth, either it would be to the past, the moment I left it, or the future. None were appealing to me. Because, if I were to go back in time, as much as I would have liked, I couldn't see how somebody telling his friends or the media that if nothing was done, they would be running into one disaster after another, would change a thing. Come to think of it, many people and organization did just that and nobody cared – or they pretended they did but would forget about it as soon as possible. The present, or at least what was my present, in 2045, was no place I had any desire to return to. The future… well, why should I crave for a better future there when I could try to build it here?
No there was no reason to go back to Earth. At least, here, if I was able to survive this, I could hope to live something different.

I was half-asleep when, Ser Board came to visit us this morning, behind the bars of our cell. He asked several more questions about our life as thralls and how we ran away – probably to ascertain our background story. Then, to my relief, he asked more questions about the deposit Captain Hook had hinted at.

Harry got cold feet however and contrary to what we had decided, he told the castellan it was only me who had had found something. Clearly, he didn't want to be associated with myself should I go back on my promise to find a valuable deposit. Ser Board had kept silence long enough it became uncomfortable. In the end, he asked the gaoler to fetch two guards. Once the gaoler had left, Ser Board told us Lord Adderley had come back the day before.

"It seems Lord Kendrick, that is Lord Adderley's overlord, has decided to ask his vassals for a financial input to help against the ongoing rebellion. I remembered the noble scum mentioned you had discovered an iron deposit and I informed Lord Adderley. You succeeded in grabbing his attention. I dearly hope for your sake that you weren't lying just to save your wretched necks, because if you did, the gallows will look like mercy. So let me ask you one last time: does you claim hold any truth?"

My comrades all turned towards me. They life depended on my answer and my capacity to live up to my promise. I didn't feel any doubt when I answered because either I tell him it is true - and I believe I can, with time, find something of interest - or, second option, I go back on my words and we are dead come tomorrow. A no-brainer if I ever knew one.

"Yes, Ser, it does. I can't say however if it is an iron deposit, but the ground is rich in iron oxides. We could discover pyrite, magnetite or ochre deposit. In any case, I would need several days to pinpoint the best deposits."
The castellan looked murderously at me.
"So you are telling me you haven't really discovered any iron deposit? Do I look like a naïve fool?" He took a step towards us.
"On the contrary, I'm being totally honest. I told you the truth: chances are high that the mountains contain natural exploitable resources. Only a thorough survey will enable me to tell you if we can tap an opportunity and where the best extraction installation would be. And I never said it was iron we would find. Maybe young Dagon misunderstood me."

Ser Board looked at me clearly undecided. On one hand he didn't believe I would live up to my promise. On the other hand, he had already taken the first step by talking to his Lord about the deposit. Backpedalling now would make him look like a fool too.

The gaoler and the two guards came back. Ser Board ordered the gaoler to release Captain Hook and myself. We were escorted to Drymoat's Great Hall, like two days ago. It was raining cat and dogs and the weather was colder than ever since I arrived in this new world. I observed more guards and more domestic servants. Everybody seemed to walk quickly and to hurry. It changed from our previous passage through Drymoat. At last, we entered the Great Hall. Here even more than outside, everybody made a special effort to look his best. Several local guards were present, as well as four armed men with shining suits of armour with their own guards. Most people seemed to be farmers or craftmen. Everybody was standing except one.

Seated on a wooden dais beside a roaring fire, Lord Adderley was speaking quietly with a bald man in grey robes and with several rings of different colours around his neck. I had to force myself not to stare at Lord Adderley : he looked exactly like Ser Board! I quickly compared both men: Lord Adderley was maybe two or three years older, but both had curly light-brown hair. Ser Board had to be the younger brother of Lord Adderley… Then I saw differences: Ser Board was more muscular but Lord Adderley didn't have an ounce of fat. The Lord of House Yew was injured at the right leg if the bandages around his calf was any indication.
A blond haired young boy, approximately my age, stood to Lord Adderley's right. He seemed bored out of his mind. When his eyes landed on me, he perked up. The Lord's son and heir probably from the look of it. As we walked to the dais, I recognized on the right side Jehan, the sergeant. He was standing against a wall under a an opening that let the daylight light up the Great Hall and enter a petrichor scent. Ser Board was walking in front of us and came to a stop six feet before his Lord and bowed when he turned his head in our direction. My companion and myself did the same. Even from where we stood, the heat of the hearth warmed us up.

"So, these are the refugees you mentioned, Ser Board."
"Yes, my Lord. They are positive about having found traces of …" he searched for the right words "natural exploitable resources east of Brenntown, but they believe a survey might help find the most profitable extraction installation."

Wow, was it me or did he just quote my last sentences almost word for word? Did he even understand what I was telling him earlier? In any case, Ser Board was taking a risk by supporting our claim. Not a bad thing I suppose. Lord Adderley took his time observing Captain Hook, then myself more quickly, taking in my bruises and cut ear – not the best business card, I concede - before interrogating us.

"And how exactly did you discover an iron deposit on my lands?" he asked Captain Hook. My companion was not in his element and tried without success not to fidget in front of the powerful man who had our lives in his hand. I have to say, Lord Adderley was imposing. He was somebody who commanded respect. Lord Adderley's intonation didn't escape the sailor's notice.
"My nephew" – we had decided to pretend Mina and I were Captain Hook's nephew and niece; a bit of family drama might help us earn a bit of positive concern, at least I hoped – "is very good mining stuff, I prefer he explains it himself". Remembering our little prep, he added quickly a respectful 'Milord'.

The two grown men looked at me with mistrust – who wouldn't, I was just a kid of seven! – while the kid, sorry, the Lord's heir, seemed to find this very interesting – more than the previous discussions, no doubt.
"First of all, Lord Adderley, let me thank you for the honour you bestow us by taking the time to hear us. It is most gracious of you. Indeed, Milord, I'm quite sure I can find a valuable deposit. I cannot guarantee it is an iron deposit, however, but it is far from being the only valuable deposit to be found, Milord. A survey would enable us to find potentially one or several exploitable seams on your rich lands, Milord".

Okay, I was playing the 'Milord' theme quite thickly in addition to licking his boots and I wasn't that sure to find an exploitable and profitable seam, but now was not the time to look uncertain. And between being a dead corpse by nightfall or trying to do what I was so good at in my previous life, there was no space for any hesitation!

My assurance and politeness seemed to re-assure the Lord and his counsellor? Advisor?

"Come forward child". His voice was firm but held a tinge of curiosity. I did as told and walked up the three steps of the dais and moved forward until I stood before Lord Adderley, the man in grey and the kid who was now staring at me. The guards were eying me carefully and were ready to intervene physically should I try anything against their Lord or his heir. Not that it even crossed my mind – I avoided any sudden movement nonetheless.
"Do you know who this man is?" He indicated the grey man on his left side. I took a prudent look at his chains made of different rings.

"No, Milord. But I assume he is an esteemed advisor, Milord, if he stands by your side." Never fear complimenting someone who holds quite literally your life in his hands. "I would guess he is part of an order devoted to intellectual activities and healing" I added as an afterthought.

Lord Adderley and his advisor (?) were now staring at me with incredulity too.
"Ser Board, did you tell this boy anything?"

"No, Milord."

"If I may, Milord" it was Jehan, the sergeant who was speaking. At his Lord's nod he went on: "Lucas, that is this kid, seems to be a very curious and gifted boy. He asked a lot of questions during our travel from Brenntown to Drymoat. And he was tactful enough to warn us that one of his comrade might try to flee – which he did indeed try. He was helpful and resourceful. We didn't discuss the Citadel or its Order, however. And he seems to know his letters, my Lord".

"Thank you, sergeant." Again, everybody was looking at me. The advisor – because there was no way someone coming from someplace named "the Citadel" wasn't some sort of advisor! – made a sign with his hand. Lord Adderley nodded at the bald man.

"My name is Maester Gobert. As you so skilfully guessed, I'm Lord Adderley's advisor and healer among other duties. Can you tell me how you were able to deduce my activities?"
Okay, now was the time to do my best Sherlock Holmes impression – without the famous detective insolence, of course!

"It's an honour to meet you, Maester Gobert. Of course, I shall explain, Milord, Master" – I took special care to speak first to Lord Adderley and secondly to Maester Gobert. "It is quite elementary in fact. From the formal surcoat he his wearing and the chains around his neck - I assume each ring stands for a deed or a mastery in a field – I deduced you have a formal role as someone who has been acknowledged by your peers for your achievements. No offense, but your hands point toward intellectual activities rather than physical ones. The way you have been looking at Lord Adderley's calf several times – not with curiosity but with concentration and the fact you have white linen threads on your grey sleeves enabled me to conclude you are an advisor and a healer, Milord, Maester".

Okay, that was pure bullshit. From my previous life, I was able to remember several cultures where learnt men were physician as well as advisors. But who needed to know this, hum?

Silence followed my statement. I lasted several heartbeats and I was fearing I had talked to much.

"Amazing deduction, lad. Now, tell me, can you name the metal of each ring from my chain? As you correctly inferred, each stand for the Mastery of a precise subject".

Ah! Piece of cake! It seemed luck was blowing in my favour today!

"Indeed, Master Gobert, Milord. This one, is made of lead – the reason why you have it at the bottom of your chain is that lead is the heaviest metal, aside from pure gold. Then, from left to right: black iron, copper, yellow gold – an alloy if it is lighter than your lead ring – and silver, Milord, Master Gobert."

Again, nobody spoke for several heartbeats.

I was doing all I could to make them realize I was not some uneducated mini-thrall. Quite the contrary in fact, and that their best interest was to be kind – even if for now it meant just not sending us to the courtyard's gallows - toward me and my companions.

"And can you guess what subject of expertise each ring stand for?"
This time, I really had to guess, based on deductions from the meaning currently given to each metal or alloy in western culture – the one I knew the best.
"I'm not sure, but I would guess gold stands for economy or money and silver healing? The other, I confess I do not know, Milord, Master Gobert." A little modesty never hurt.

Both men exchanged glances. I was really, really hoping I had succeeded convincing them. Master Gobert asked then the one million golden dragon question – the most valuable coin in Westeros, as I had learnt from Jehan:

"And how would you organize this survey?"

Jackpot! Hook, line and sinker!

"I believe this is a discussion best continued in my solar, Maester."

The tone was polite, yet firm.
Lord Adderley turned to the gathered crowd of guards, servants and smallfolk who had come to present their grievances to their Lord.
"This will be all for today, please go back to your duties. We will continue this tomorrow."
There were several grumbles, but the guards' spears were efficient in directing the crowd toward the exit.

Lord Adderley was looking at me suspiciously, contrary to Maester Gober who seemed like a children before his Christmas gifts.

Okay, our necks were still not that far from the chopping block, it seemed.

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Stone Hedge, 196 A.C., third moon, second fortnight
Spring
Lord Florent's solar

Erell Gordon was observing Lord Florent as the latter remained seated after he was done telling him what he had uncovered. The hour of the bat was coming to an end and the hour of the eel, with its darker sky and numerous stars, had begun.

Lord Florent Bracken was deep in his thoughts. The intelligence he had gathered were concerning but after four winters, almost twenty nameday, serving as Lord Florent's steward, Erell didn't doubt his Lord would soon figure out a way to use it in his favour. The Lord of Stone Hedge did not challenge his steward's claims – the man knew he was trustworthy.

Florent Bracken was a war veteran from the Conquest of Dorne. He had fought in numerous battles when he was still young, having barely reached knighthood in 157 A.C. He had fought alongside Daeron I when Dorne was first invaded, then again when the Dornish had killed Lyonel Tyrell and Daeron I had marched a second time to the southernmost region of Westeros in less than three years. Lord Florent's martial prowess were noticed by Aemon Targaryen, the Dragonknight and he had fought and bled alongside the famous Kingsguard. He was injured at the calf and the left arm in the massacre following the second – but most heinous - betrayal of those desert's bastards when they broke the Gods' protection at the parley under the peace banner. He had survived however and he had been kept as an hostage several years in Wyl, like Aemon Targaryen, before being released. As such, Lord Bracken had been shocked, angered and felt betrayed when Dorne joined the Six, now Seven Kingdoms and were offered key position in Daeron II's government and Small Council. Before this, his sister Barba, had become Aegon's mistress and his father had been offered the position of Hand of the King – until the treacherous Blackwood bitch, Melissa, ensnared Aegon and became his new mistress. To add insult to injury, the Blackwood bitch convinced Aegon to grant Barba's Teat – what a strange way to honour your mistress, but such were the humour of Targaryen kings, it seemed - the hills south of Stone Hedge, to her family's lands! To Lord Blackwood's!
Then came the fiasco with Lord Florent's younger and beloved sister, Bethany, when she was framed with the Toyne Kingsguard and she was executed, along her father.

For years, Florent Bracken, now Lord of Stone Hedge, had brooded over his family disgrace and together with his sister Barba, they had raised Aegon's bastard son, Aegor, and his heir Tristan in the hate of anything related to Dorne and to the Blackwoods, especially toward his half-brother Brynden Rivers.

Lord Florent stood and began to walk on the thick carpet of his solar. His wounds had never completely healed and he was limping slightly. He felt old and he could feel his rheumatism awakening – it would rain tonight or tomorrow, he thought.
Several moons ago, when agents of Daemon Blackfyre had contacted him and offered to contribute to his campaign against Daeron the Illegitimate, Lord Florent had accepted at once. His nephew Aegor, had joined Daemon's base camp with several hundred men-at-arms. The black haired, purple eyed knight had took part in the battles in the Westerlands alongside Quentyn Ball, and he had made a name of himself, earning the surname of Bittersteel.

The pieces on the board of the Game of Throne were now moving faster. Lord Simon had called the banners. This put Stone Hedge's Lord in a very uncomfortable position. He had to answer to his Lord's call, less he be named a traitor and an oathbreaker. But he had no reason to fight against Daemon and his rightful claim for the Iron Throne – he was wielding Blackfyre! He considered his duty to fight for his king more than to obey his overlord's call. But if Bethany's fiasco had taught him something, it was that half-backed plans led only to disasters. Thus, he couldn't openly declare again Lord Tully.

The latter was gathering his vassals and their levies along the River Road, no doubt to force him, House Lothston and House Roote to join him. What the Tully Lord ignored, was that Maidenpool wouldn't fight for him neither: House Mooton had secretly declared for Daemon – the Lord of Maidenpool had his eyes set on Crackclaw Point. The Greedy Salmon, as Florent called Lord Edmore Mooton, hoped that the lands from the peninsula would be granted to his House as acknowledgment for their help. Therefore, Florent considered him a questionable ally. How an old and esteemed noble House such as House Mooton could lose all their honour by negotiating their support like a fishmonger was beyond his understanding.

Erell had just informed him that one of his chambermaids was spying on behalf of the Blackwood's bastard: she had been seen providing information to someone external to Stone Hedge who would leave in direction of Raventree Hall after their discussions. Erell's informant had been able to follow the horseman who had indeed ridden to the seat of their ancestral enemies, the Blackwood. After several days of spying Raventree Hall, Erell's informant had seen the same procedure happening with five others horsemen and he had taken upon himself to catch one of them – not the horseman who had been riding between Stone Hedge and Raventree Hall of course! - who, under his informant's tender care, had confessed that they were part of a spy network set in place by Blackwood's albinos bastard, Brynden Rivers or Bloodraven as he was being called in reference to his many spies.

Lord Bracken's informants in the Vale and Riverrun had let him know that the Vale would come in through the Bloody Gate before the following moon started which didn't let him a lot of time before Lord Simon and Lord Donnay Arryn would converge on Harrenhal.

Lord Florent pondered. Yes, this spy could help them greatly. It was a gamble, but one he would take if it meant he would see the honour of House Bracken restored and the Blackwood put back to their place, or better, eliminated once and for all! Should the worse happen, his son would continue his work.

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The next day – a rainy day, as Lord Florent had sensed - he had a meeting with his heir, Ser Tristan, Erell Gordon, his steward, Ser Alaric, his castellan, Maester Donald and young Clervy Bracken, the son of Florent's father cousin and Tristan's squire. Lord Florent had made sure that Jenny, the spying chambermaid, was in service as Lord Florent explained what he had decided.

"Tomorrow, House Bracken will answer Lord Simon's call and leave with its cavalry for Darry where the Vale's army will join the Riverland's. Tristan, you will be in charge of Stone Hedge in my absence. As my heir, it will be an excellent occasion. Maester Donald will advise you if needed and Ser Alaric will remain at Stone Hedge to train the younger levies. Should I die, Tristan, it will be your duty as the Lord of Stone Hedge to take my place. Ser Alaric will act in your stead while you are away. His family has served our House for countless generations, you can trust his judgment concerning martial matters."

During his speech, the maid filled their goblets with watered wine. Florent saw her eying the map of the Riverlands on which laid figurines representing the different Houses, their army and their known forces.

"Now, concerning the logistic…" Lord Florent stopped when the maid stepped outside. He had given strict instructions to the guards outside to let the maid go but stop anyone from coming near his solar. Now, nobody would listen or spy for their enemies.

His steward had put a tail on the chambermaid. Lord Florent had given his son, Erell and Sir Alaric clear instructions too. Better a known spy than an unknown one. At least, they would be able to control what intelligence she would gather. Tristan hadn't liked it one bit, wanting as young men were prone to, to catch her before she gave her gathered intelligence ant to kill her for the spy she was. However Lord Florent had explained that someone else would stand in for Jenny should she disappear and Lord Florent preferred to now who were his enemies.

"Are you sure father you want to let her spy on us freely? What if she discovers we are using her?" His son's eyes were lingering on the door the chambermaid had left by.
"You kill her." It was said without any emotion, nor any remorse. Just a fact. "But until then, you don't act without discussing any action regarding Jenny with Erell and Ser Alaric. She might prove to be an asset at misinforming our enemies. Now, to what we will really do…"

Lord Florent explained his plans to his heir and his trusted servants, moving the figurines on the map.

A little while later, a guard knocked before entering. He announced that someone had a message for Erell Gordon. The steward went outside a few moments before coming back. Everyone had been waiting and upon seeing all eyes on him, the steward just nodded sternly.

Lord Florent gave a toothy grin. His enemies were not the only one using spies…

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That's all for today! Please, leave a review!

Answers to reviews:

Revo777 : hopefully the answer to your question was in this chapter. A little cliffhanger every now and then is healthy in a story!