The man knelt before him with the expression of the proudly guilty and the courage of the condemned. Lyonel knelt down, aware of all the eyes watching him. "Why did you do it, Ralph?" Lyonel asked.
"He cheated me," the man spat.
"And so you killed him?"
"He cheated me a lot."
Lyonel couldn't help but be impressed at how easily the man confessed. When found with the evidence, he gave up. Others might have tried to deflect blame, to claim they were being set up. Not Ralph. Now the knowledge was out, he owned it.
"That is no justification," he told Ralph softly.
"Brown bastard cheated more than me, he had it coming to him."
"It doesn't matter," Lyonel said, standing tall again, making sure that his voice carried to everyone in the market square. "Let me remind you, justice flows from the king. My father is not here, but I speak in his name. And it is in his name that I, Lyonel of Dragonstone, sentence you, Ralph, to hang by the neck until dead for the crime of murder of the merchant Loraigh." He nodded at the guards behind Ralph seized him and dragged him to where the noose hung, looped over a support beam. Lyonel didn't have time to build a full set of gallows, this would have to suffice. Ralph only stared out, defiant and proud as the noose was slipped around his neck and tightened. Four of Lyonel's archers hoisted him into the air. Ralph's legs began to kick as his body fought for life. As the guards tied the rope securely, so that Ralph's legs hung eight feet in the air, his face began to turn blue and he choked, the sound rasping through the silence of the square.
Finally he stopped kicking, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. Lyonel nodded and turned to the crowd. "Let me be clear to you all," Lyonel declared, making sure everyone heard and listened. "There will be no tolerance for crime, be it thievery or murder. House Baratheon is the font of your justice, we dispense it fairly, but you come to us to receive it or you end up like this," he nodded back at the dangling Ralph. He glared at them all. "Do not make me come back here."
He marched away, leaving the corpse staring after him and approached the crowd. He could still feel the stares on him as he approached the myrish woman at the fore of the circle of people. She was being sheltered by fellow myrish, who made up this entire side of the circle, the other side were the natives of Dragonstone. "I am sorry for your loss, lady," he said, earnestly as the crowd began to disperse.
She looked up at him, eyes red and puffy. "We came here to be safe," she whispered.
Lyonel nodded. "You did, and we promised it. We let you down, and for that, you have my full apology. If you wish to leave… I will see to it that the original payment you gave us for our protection is returned."
"Leave," she choked, reaching up and wiping tears from her cheeks. "Where would I go, what can I do? He was the merchant, not me, I-"
"Don't worry, Elleira," said one of the women beside her. "We'll look after you, I promise."
"Since it seems it's come to that anyway," added a gruff man, taller than Lyonel, his expression fierce."
Lyonel squared up to him. "What do you mean by that?"
The man barked a harsh laugh. "You mean you don't know?"
"Speak plainly," Lyonel warned.
The man pointed at the hanging corpse of Ralph the murderer. "They knew it was him."
"Who did?" Lyonel demanded.
The man nodded at one of the market watchmen. "Them, they knew."
Lyonel turned and looked at the watchmen, frowning. "That's a dangerous accusation to make. Don't forget, the murderer was caught."
"Only after we saw him wearing my husband's bracelet in the street," Elleira said, sniffing. "They didn't listen when he told them he was threatened, they didn't do a thing when he died, not until that bracelet was found, if it hadn't been," she trailed off, burying her face in her friend's shoulder.
"He told them he'd received a threat?" Lyonel asked.
He waited patiently for Elleira to recover and turn to him, nodding. "Three times he told them. They did nothing. After he was dead I told them, begged them to investigate, they didn't."
"They did nothing?"
"Didn't you hear her?" The defensive man demanded. "They did nothing."
Lyonel knew he had to go back to his men. Every day was a day closer to the invasion. But if what they said was true…
"I'll investigate this," he said, turning and marching away.
"Forgive us if we don't wait for you," the man called after him.
The commander of the watch didn't have an office so much as a room. A small desk sat at the back with boxes of watchmen tunics and truncheons and sheets of paper with shifts detailed on them pinned to the wall. The commander himself, a man past his physical prime stood uncomfortably before Lyonel. "So she says they both reported that Loraigh had been threatened," Lyonel said, arms folded as he leant against the door frame, staring at the commander. "Is that true?"
"Yes it is," the watch commander said. "But please, my prince, you must understand, near everyone says they've been threatened at some point in this market, haggling quickly gets heated, you know."
"So you did nothing?"
The man swallowed. "I didn't think there was anything to do, like I said my prince, people say they get threatened every day."
"But not all of them end up dead," Lyonel replied. "When he was found, did you at least look into the threats then?"
"The widow didn't know who it was, her description was bad. She wanted me to drag everyone in front of her, saying she would be able to identify him if she saw him."
"Did you?"
The man looked aghast. "I can't just drag the entire market into this?"
"Someone was murdered, why couldn't you track down who did it?"
"We did, you just hanged him, my prince."
"You found him? I thought he was seen with Loraigh's bracelet?" Lyonel turned and faced the commander directly. "That was you and your men?"
"No, but when someone reported it we acted?"
"And this took you how long?" Silence. "Too long, is the answer, watchman." He sighed, rubbing his face down. "I expect there to be no repeat of this. If watchmen negligence leads to another death, I will hang you alongside the next perpetrator. Am I clear?"
The watch commander swallowed and nodded. "Yes, my prince, very clear."
Lyonel nodded and departed the room.
Rennic was waiting for him outside, leaning against the side of the building. "You should go and train with your men Rennic," Lyonel told him, sighing at the disruption. "We need all the training we can get for the coming invasion."
The captain nodded, but didn't look convinced. "If you want, I can. But you don't look like you're settled here, my prince."
Lyonel jerked his head for Rennic to follow. They made their way out of the market, where Lyonel sat down on the dirt, vaguely gesturing for Rennic to do the same. "I'm not settled here," he confessed, leaning back and staring into the sky, where dark clouds were gathering ahead. "The myrish think the watchmen won't investigate when they are threatened, and I can't tell if they're right or if the watchmen just failed at their job today."
"Does it matter?"
"When we sail, I can't be worrying about what's happening behind us. And clearly something is going on here."
"So what will you do?" Rennic asked.
"I don't know," Lyonel replied, sighing. "The myrish don't trust the watchmen, so even if they step up their game now, it may not be enough. But one instance of incompetence is not enough to warrant the execution of the watch commander, and I can't prove that they looked the other way and let Ralph get away with it."
"You could just execute him anyway, you are the prince."
Lyonel looked over at Rennic, surprised to see him looking sincere. "No, I can't, justice doesn't work that way."
"You're a prince, they're, well, more like me."
"That doesn't mean I can just kill you?"
Rennic's expression was unmoving as he replied. "Actually, my prince, that's exactly what it means."
Lyonel couldn't fill that void of hard truths. When he finally did reply, he had to force himself to sound strong. "Well it shouldn't. I refuse to be like that."
"I see. Then you'll have to do something, prince."
"You have a recommendation."
Rennic sat forward, staring off into the distance, deep in thought. "If I were to guess, I'd say the myrish are scared. They may be rich, but they've fled their homes. But the people of Dragonstone are also uneasy, the myrish look different, act different, most of them also speak different. I'm not surprised that there afraid of each other. People get angry and lash out when they're afraid, just like beasts in that way."
"I know all this," Lyonel replied. It wasn't like Rennic to wax lyrical like this, "you have an idea."
Rennic nodded. "Yes, prince. You've got two groups of people here, both of them are afraid of each other, suspicious of each other, both probably think they are worth more than the other. But the only people who protect them and investigate them come from one of those two groups. I don't see that lasting well."
"You think there could be violence?"
"You've got men from dragonstone that make bows and spears, while the myrish know how to make daggers and crossbows. They have the means."
Lyonel sighed. He was hoping this would be a quick and easy matter. He needed to get back to training, and he wanted to see Shireen again, and Amalia. "Rennic, you'd best go back to your men, keep up the training today, but don't expect me to return before tomorrow at the latest."
"Why not?" Rennic asked.
"Because I'm about to go running between the two groups who hate each other to try and put a solution in place. I don't think it will be quick."
It wasn't. Lyonel spent the better part of an hour convincing the watchmen that his plan was sound and beneficial to them. He could simply order it, of course, but he wanted the myrish and the dragonstone natives to at least be able to live in the same place, even if they never mingled in any great social way. Then he had to go to the myrish and ask them if they would agree to it. Several had reacted with outcry at the idea. In the end he was able to convince enough men of influence to back the idea that the community as a whole agreed. Finally, he thought that it had been solved. The market watch was doubled, twenty five men to fifty, and they would work in pairs now, one man native to dragonstone, one myrish volunteer. More expenses for his mother to have to deal with. But of course that wasn't the end, it turned out that five of the myrish volunteers didn't speak the common tongue, so they had to be replaced with those who did. Then there were questions of lodgings, shifts and responsibilities. By the time Lyonel left, no one was satisfied, but no one was wholly dissatisfied either, and that was, he reasoned, the best he could reasonably hope for.
He staggered through the entrance to Dragonstone that evening, knowing he'd missed dinner. He didn't trouble the cooks, he could last that night, instead he trudged up to his rooms.
Amalia turned from the window to look at him, an eyebrow raised. "I was wondering if you were going to turn up at all," she said, her dazzling smile shining.
"Apologies, it was a long day," he said, making his way over to the recliner and flopping onto it. "There was an incident in the market."
She frowned at him. "What happened?"
He explained the murder of Loraigh, Elleira's trouble with the watchmen, the hanging of Ralph and the changes he'd made to the watch.
"I hope those changes work," Amalia said, shaking her head. "Poor Elleira."
"You knew her?" Lyonel asked.
Amalia shook her head. "Not at all. Why?"
"Well she was myrish," Lyonel began
"And of course all people from Myr know each other, by name," she chided him. "I said poor Elleira because her husband just died. Nothing more, I do not know her, but I can still pity her for her misfortune."
"I'm sorry," Lyonel said, putting his head in his hands, rubbing his eyes with the balls of his palms. "I didn't mean to imply anything like that. Like I said, it's been a long day."
"I assumed from when you entered, given the way you're dragging your feet, shoved your own door open and haven't commented on my dress."
"Your dress?" He looked her up and down. "New?"
"That's it? New?"
"Blue?" Lyonel tried.
"One more time."
Well it was blue, Lyonel thought. "Nice?"
She sighed. "It's westerosi?" she said, spinning for him. "There's your hint, go on, don't you see?"
Oh yes, it was westerosi, lacking the intricate laces of most of the dresses she wore, and there was something else. He sat up. "Is that my sister's dress?"
She clapped her hands together. "Well done, Lyonel," she said. "Yes, she let me have it, obviously I had to have a couple of adjustments made," she traced her fingertips along the bust of the dress, "but other than that, what do you think?"
"I think you and my sister must be getting along well if you're sharing dresses now. I'm glad." The two of them were spending more time together while he was training the men. If it wasn't for the war he would be with them, but it was good that they got along without him, he supposed.
She sat down on his lap and wrapped her arms around his neck. "Since you're tired, I'll let you slip out of giving me lots of compliments for tonight," she said, hugging him tightly.
"You want compliments, do you?"
"Darling, I'm a woman, I always want compliments."
Lyonel pulled back and looked up at her, still surprised at how stunning she was. "I can give you kisses instead," he said.
"Oh?"
He leant up and brushed his lips over hers softly. "Better?"
She pursed her lips, rocking her head from side to side in mock thought. "A little," she said finally.
"More then," he said, kissing her again, and again, pulling her against him. For moments or minutes they sat there, him lost in her, running his fingers down her cheeks and through her hair. "Bed?" He asked.
"No," she told him between kisses, running her lips along his jawline. "I don't want sex tonight, I just want this," she said, kissing him again.
"As you desire," he said, reclining back on the seat, pulling her on top of him. She cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the mouth, slipping her tongue between his lips, teasing and tasting with soft strokes. He kissed her back, on the tip of her nose, her cheeks, her jaw and started trailing them down her neck.
"Hmmm," she moaned, angling her neck to give him access. "You've gotten much better at-"
He kept kissing, it wasn't often he could rob her of her words and he felt a surge of pride run through him. "Darling," she said, pulling slightly on his hair. "Darling," she repeated, tugging harder, her tone insistent.
"What is it?" He said, pulling back. Amalia was looking wide eyed in the direction of the doorway. Lyonel followed her gaze and felt the heat flush from his face. Shireen was standing in the doorway, mouth agape, her eyes brimming with hurt, disgust and fury. They looked at each other in silence for several long moments before she turned on her heel and disappeared from sight.
