Samuel
"Not much I can do about this one, my lord," Kristofer sighed heavily, running a hand through his sweat-soaked black hair. "It's too unstable to fix as it is, and I'd need new materials to rebuild it. My advice, you should give it up and let me take it down, then we might use the rocks to repair the other towers." Kristofer, a stocky, stout man, was the mason of Comet's Keep, as he had been for most of Samuel's life. Taken on by his father, Lord Samson, to put a stop to the decay of House Blacktooth's ancestral home.
Forty years past, the Comet Tower, Comet's Keep's shining jewel, had almost collapsed in on itself. He still remembered the tension in the castle that lasted for months as Kristofer and a team of skilled builders performed repairs that, while necessary, were financially ruinous for the house. Samuel never wanted to bear such an expense ever again, and so had Kristofer carry out routine inspections of Comet's Keep's walls and towers for the slightest sign of damage.
"You're sure there's absolutely nothing you can do?" Samuel asked, tentatively running a hand along the brick of the tower. It was a mostly ineffective one, halfway along the northern wall, which was defended well enough already by the side of the mountain Comet's Keep was built against. Samuel wouldn't have been surprised if it hadn't been manned since the Dance of Dragons, or maybe even earlier than that, but still, it was a piece of House Blacktooth's history, and Samuel was desperate not to give it up.
"No, my lord, you can either leave it to collapse after a few years, or tear it down now. It's up to you, but I would do the latter, if you have as little money as you say, the stones will be invaluable for repairs elsewhere." Kristofer was not a man to soothe an open wound where he saw it, and routinely gave a very emotionless assessment of each situation. Samuel enjoyed that sometimes, but it also irked him to no end at others.
"So be it, tear the thing down, it'll be a shame to see it go." Samuel felt a deep-seated rage building within him that came whenever Comet's Keep's decay was laid out before him. A thousand years ago, the Shadow Kings of old would never have permitted their towers to crumble. They would have seen the first sign of ruin and built it back even stronger.
House Blacktooth's old Shadow Kingdom, named for the sorcerer king who founded it, had been the most powerful military force of its age. Hard lands made for hard men, and there weren't many lands harder than the mountains that flanked the Gold Road. If we still held all the lands we once did, we would now be an economic superpower, as well as a military one. Instead, the masses of hardened soldiers were commanded by House Brax of Hornvale, once a house that served as stewards to the Shadow Kings, now High Lord of what had been, before the Dance of Dragons, Comet's Keep, and was now Hornvale. The vast wealth on the other hand, went to House Lydden, High Lords of the Gold Road, a house vanquished half a hundred times by the Shadow Kings, now arbiters of the richest trade route in the Seven Kingdoms as payment for their treachery.
Once, Samuel had dreamt of crushing them all in battle, like the great King Dagon would have done, rallying armies of a few thousand to victory against enemies two, three, or four times their number. Those dreams were foolish though, not only did Samuel have nowhere near King Dagon's skill with a blade, or in strategy, he also lacked the ability to shadow-walk, as the legends said Dagon Blacktooth could. Many Blacktooths had dreamt of great victories before, and none had achieved them, indeed, any who tried were often promptly defeated and punished severely, as Marberry Blacktooth did in the Dance of Dragons. He thought to rise against his liege lord, and lost his high lordship for it. It has always been apparent that House Blacktooth will not win back its glory in the fires of battle, Samuel thought dejectedly. Now, perhaps even King Dagon could not take us back to where we belong.
Samuel favoured an alternative approach, one which had secured him a voice close to the High Lord of Silverhill, Royle Serrett. He offered the man his younger sister's hand in marriage, and after Royle and Rose met, they were soon besotted with one another. Royle was a miserly man, and often unwilling to provide his wife's family with coin, but should any house ever seek to threaten them, Rose would ensure House Blacktooth would have the support of House Serrett. It had been immensely successful so far, and as Samuel's own children came of age, he hoped that their Serrett connections would be sufficient to secure them even better matches.
"I'll store the rocks then, and use them when they're needed. Good day to you, my lord." Samuel hardly even remembered he had been talking to Kristofer, he was so lost in thought. "Oh, yes, very good, I'll leave you to your business, mason." Samuel offered the man his arm, and shook it forcefully, before turning on his heel and making his way down from the battlements into the outer courtyard. A small group of youths were milling around watching two young men ride tilts at one another. Closer inspection revealed one of them to be Samuel's eldest son, Devan Blacktooth, a boy of seventeen, dressed in faded blue armour he'd doubtless salvaged from the armoury. Samuel refused to buy the boy his own set until he had stopped growing, and forbade him from buying his own at least until he reached his majority.
His opponent was a boy a couple of years older by the name of Asher Danford, the eldest son of Samuel's steward, Cortnay. He was a good deal bigger than Devan, and one might have been forgiven for thinking Asher would win. They would be wrong though, Devan struck Asher from his horse with a practised ease that made the onlookers cheer raucously. What he lacked in size, Sam's son made up for in training. He spent eight years at Silverhill, first as a page and then as a squire to his uncle Royle. He had more training in a few months there than Asher likely had in his entire life.
Devan spotted Samuel walking past as he vaulted down from his horse, and hurried over to him. "Good morning Father!" he cried excitedly. "Did you see that?" He pulled his helmet off, revealing a comely face with sharp cheekbones, and sparkling royal blue eyes, a staple of Blacktooth heritage. If that were all, Samuel thought, he would be one of the more handsome young boys in the Westerlands, but Samuel and his wife had been blessed with children who possessed hair the same colour as their eyes, a sparkling royal blue, the likes of which hadn't been seen since the days of the shadow kings. Devan preferred to keep his hair cut short, sitting upon his head in a crown of messy curls that he would run his hand through whenever he was stressed, but he never could have hidden the way it sparkled in the afternoon sun. It was a stark contrast to the dim black hair that Sam possessed.
"Aye, it was impressive, though you need a deal more practise to become a truly great jouster." Samuel wished he could compliment the boy more, but he didn't want him to be deluded into thinking he was better at anything than he thought. That was the kind of thinking that made a Blacktooth lord rise up against his liege, and things like that never ended well.
Devan's face fell for a moment, before he shook his head and grinned once more. "I've actually been meaning to ask you, Father. You know those poor souls who came to us asking for help after a group of bandits stole their wares? Well, there was another group today, a merchant, he had his entire stock of pepper and spices stolen, as well as his daughter's maidenhead. I promised him that there would be fierce retribution for it. So ... can you give me maybe fifty men, and I'll go and handle them?"
"You say that as if fifty men is a paltry number," Samuel complained. "That is half of our household guard."
"I know, but it's just going to be a simple matter of rooting the bandits out, and hanging them, then I'll come back. It's perfectly safe, and we'll get to confiscate whatever goods they've stolen. Which we could put towards a new suit of armour, or perhaps some new dresses for Anna?"
Samuel suppressed a groan at his son's words. The boy had always been one to test his capabilities, and as soon as he'd mastered one challenge he started searching for the next. Just three weeks ago he'd heard that House Drox was siphoning off the stream that fed half their Lowland possessions, and demanded that he be permitted to raise the matter with Lord Andros Brax. Samuel had relented after many days of badgering, and the boy returned with five hundred dragons worth of compensation and an assurance that the siphoning would be stopped. Now he wants to go out and play protector of the Gold Road. "I shall think on it," was all Samuel gave up. "It is not our duty to defend the Gold Road from bandits, that responsibility falls upon our liege lords and House Lydden."
"But they're both clearly failing in it, Father," Devan argued. "It was the duty of Blacktooths of old to defend the Gold Road, all those people used to be our subjects."
"And now they are not," Samuel snapped. Though one day they may be again. "I will hear no more of this, you are needed here, to learn how to succeed me when the gods deem it my time, you will learn nothing gallivanting out in the mountains."
Devan gave him a mournful look and nodded his head. "Yes, Father, I shan't mention it again." Samuel almost laughed at how sincere the boy sounded, he knew he would ask him once again on the morrow, and every other day until he relented. He is a good liar, he'll need that skill if he is to succeed me. Samuel waved the boy away and watched him return to his friends, smiling and joking as if he hadn't even been turned down; One of the younger boys held his horse still while he leapt back up onto it, as if he didn't even feel the weight of his armour. As he made his way to the inner walls, Samuel could hear the thunder of hooves, and then another cheer as Devan unhorsed yet another opponent. I need to find a tourney for him to enter, he mused. If he is truly as good as Reynold claims, he could make a small fortune from jousting alone. He was aware of the fact that King Robert was riding north after the death of his Hand, Jon Arryn. There's every chance he'll host a tourney when Eddard Stark becomes his Hand, Devan can ride in that, perhaps I'll even have a decent suit of armour made for him, that would remind everyone that we aren't dead yet.
Sam entered the inner walls' western gatehouse and climbed the stairs until he was out on the walls themselves. There was a bridge from the walls into the armoury, something that must have made it very easy for the castle's defenders to quickly man the walls if they were ever attacked in the night. Now, though, all it did was provide a shortcut between the inner walls and the Great Keep, which was only a short walk from the armoury. There was nothing Samuel wanted at this point other than a hearty lunch and a cup of wine to drown his sorrows at the lost tower, but when he was greeted by a loud chorus of giggles as soon as he opened the door out onto the battlements, Samuel knew he wouldn't make it back unaccosted.
"Oh, Father, good afternoon!" Samuel's eldest daughter was first to greet him, the leader of the small group of young girls that inhabited Comet's Keep. A maiden of fourteen years, with the same blue hair and blue eyes as her brother. Sam didn't doubt that the moment she was presented at a large gathering of lords, he would be fielding offers for her hand, likely from younger sons and knights, but offers nonetheless. She was a beauty the likes of which is not often seen, and many a time Samuel wondered just how she had been born of his seed. "Devan is doing very well, isn't he?" she gestured to the outer yard, where Devan had knocked yet another opponent into the dirt. "You should suggest to Uncle Royle that he go for a visit, he'll find far better opponents there."
"Aren't there bandits on the road to Uncle Royle's castle?" Samuel heard a small voice ask, he turned his head, and saw that it was his second daughter, Ellinor, who asked the question, eleven years old and wearing a faded blue dress that might have matched her eyes if she'd worn it when it was new, her hair was left to hang around her shoulders, in stark contrast to the intricate bun Joanna had made out of her hair. He gave both girls a frown that made Ellie wither and step back, but Joanna ignored him and continued with the charade she'd cooked up.
"There are, Ellie," Joanna confirmed. "But I'm sure Devan will be fine if he has some guards with him, you'll write to Silverhill, won't you, Father?"
"Why would I need to invite mummers to our home when my daughters can put together such fine performances themselves?" Samuel said disapprovingly. "I'm guessing the number of guards you would suggest I send him off with would be … fifty?"
Joanna's face reddened. "I was thinking something like that, Father, yes."
"What a coincidence, that's exactly the number of men Devan asked me to give him to handle said bandits not five minutes ago." Samuel put on a tone of mock surprise, but his eyes were hard as ever.
"Well … Maester Marwin once said that great minds have a habit of thinking alike?" Joanna tried sheepishly. "He'd be able to deal with them quickly enough though, don't you think?"
"It is not his or our responsibility to deal with," Samuel said sternly. "Should the state of banditry on the Gold Road become problematic enough to gain the attention of House Lydden, then they can deal with it, we will take no part."
"And if these bandits, which we have no interest in, were to kidnap me on my morning ride tomorrow, and take me off into the mountains to ravish me before selling me to slavers. Would it still not be your responsibility?" A few of her companions gasped, and sweet-hearted Ellie looked ready to faint as Joanna's words.
Samuel's heart turned to ice at the mere implication, and he didn't doubt that his face had gone red with fury. "Of course it would be, but that isn't going to happen."
"You can never say it won't until those horrible thieves and rapers are dealt with, Father," Joanna shrugged. "No matter, good day, Father, I think I shall keep watching Devan, it makes me feel safer."
Samuel bit back a harsh response, knowing that he had only himself to blame for his childrens' attempts at manipulation. It was exactly the kind of behaviour he wanted them to display, after all, and it was something Joanna especially would need to be skilled in. I do wish they wouldn't keep trying out their tricks on me, though.
Samuel bid them goodbye without anymore than a glance, and continued on to the armoury as the girls started laughing and giggling again. A few guards that were patrolling the walls gave him curt greetings and received a nod in response, but for the most part, Samuel's journey was blissfully quiet from the walls down through the armoury and up into the Great Keep. He was met at the door by Cortnay, balancing a ledger in one arm and holding a quill in his right hand. "How fared the tower?"
"It fared poorly," Samuel revealed. "Kristofer's taking it down as we speak, the bricks will be stored for use elsewhere."
"A pity, but it isn't that much of a loss, the towers on the north and south walls are almost useless with the mountains flanking us, and the cost of rebuilding it would be extortionate, even before we factor in Jaehaerys' tax on fortifications. We'll manage without it."
"We will, but I hate to see it go," Samuel said mournfully. "We need to find a way to improve our income. Our lands are already being farmed almost as much as possible, and I can't see any other way to make more gold."
"Your son was actually in my office with an interesting proposal last evening, Sam," Cortnay revealed. "He suggested that we introduce some new taxes and adjust some existing ones to raise more funds. He discovered that many villages were finding crafty ways to pay less tax by exploiting loopholes in our current system of taxation. Specifically, they're able to deduct from their payments anything deemed essential to the upkeep of equipment of war. To this end, most townsfolk claim to spend the vast majority of their coin on the upkeep of their swords and bows, our collectors generally don't have a good understanding of the maths of the situation, so they take the farmers at face value without realising they're being paid less coin than they should."
"That's absurd, how long have they been doing that?" Samuel was appalled, the shadow kings of old had introduced that law centuries ago, could it truly have been exploited ever since?
"At least the last fifty years, my lord," Cortnay revealed. "Devan thought it best to actually reduce our taxes, down to three tenths of each man's produce, or perhaps two tenths for those who don't keep livestock, and four tenths for those who do."
"Reduce taxes?" Samuel was mystified. "That will only reduce our income, what's the boy thinking?"
"He has a theory," Cortnay explained. "The greater the taxes we levy are, the more resistant people will be to paying them in full-"
"That is no great discovery," Samuel snapped.
"Of course not, but he is also of the opinion that there is an optimal level at which taxes should lie, where the most revenue can be extracted. If we close this loophole, it won't take long before the smallfolk discover something new to be abused, but if they don't find the taxes they face too objectionable, then they won't even bother looking. Not to mention the prospect of keeping more of what they work for will incentivise them to work all the harder, producing more food which we can sell."
Samuel paused for thought, looking for anything wrong he could find with this plan, of course Devan's theory could be wrong, but even if that were the case, closing the loophole would be enough to improve House Blacktooth's income, they could just raise taxes again if things did not work out as he predicted. "It is a wise decision, Cortnay, see it done." He didn't feel the need to tell the man to give Devan his congratulations, Cortnay would do it anyway. The people here love him, that much is clear, I can only hope that he shall be such a success with others.
Cortnay gave a firm nod and scribbled away in his notebook for a few moments before snapping it shut. "It will be done, my lord." He turned on his heel and marched off in the direction of his study, doubtless to begin writing up the new tax laws that would be presented to a team of painters to copy onto wooden placards and displayed in village centres for all -or at least those who could read - to see. Samuel followed shortly afterwards, and made his way into the Great Hall, where already some of the household guards were gathering for lunch. He flagged down a serving girl, and requested a serving of roast pork and fried onions in a cranberry sauce, and settled down at the high table to eat.
The food was hale and hearty, and Samuel finally found his mood to be improving. As he started to tuck in, he was almost smiling in spite of the day's difficulties. His wife arrived shortly after him, and seated herself across the table with a bowl of chicken soup and a few chunks of freshly-baked bread. "It's good to see you in a good mood, Sam," she smiled. Lady Ellena Blacktooth was a distant descendent of House Lannister, the great granddaughter of one of Lord Tytos' cousins, and had the typical Lannister features, blonde hair almost the colour of gold, and piercing green eyes. At first they wed for politics, even if she wasn't a particularly important Lannister, she was still a Lannister of Casterly Rock, and there was a lot of prestige to be had in being wed to one of them. As their marriage aged, however, they came to love one another, and now shared a desire to see House Blacktooth restored at least somewhat to its former glory.
Samuel grinned. "The cook has outdone himself today, it's not every man who can lift my spirits after having to tear down yet another tower, and enduring our childrens' clumsy attempts at persuading me to let Devan fight bandits in the mountains."
Ellena matched his grin with one of her own. "Ethan outdoes himself most days, my love, and you demand so much from our son, can you blame him for wanting to prove something to you?"
"I wish he would try and prove himself through some other means," Samuel sighed. "This business with the bandits, it's too risky for my liking, and with such little to gain. The Gold Road is not our responsibility, and we don't know how many men they have."
"Devan doesn't take after you in much, Samuel," Ellena said in a tone that did not match her words. "He is a fighter, he needs to fight. I say, give him the men he's asking for and watch him go, he'll surprise you, methinks."
"And here I thought you might take my side," Samuel said dryly. "I suppose I shall truly consider it then. I just fear that he may think himself too big for this little lordship one day, and do something foolish."
"We didn't raise a fool," Ellena assured him. "Should his time come before you accomplish your dreams, he shan't tear them asunder. If anything, I think he'll advance them. He is much like you in that regard."
"I hope you're right, my love," Samuel leant back in his chair. "Still, fifty men is a large number, it would leave us short, most certainly."
"Devan will bring them back, I'm sure of that." Ellena rose and walked around the table to put her arms in a loose embrace around his shoulders. "The men already love him, and Reynold won't shut up about his talent with a blade, he was born for this."
A week later, Devan Blacktooth, Samuel's only son and heir, rode out of Comet's Keep on someone else's horse, wearing borrowed armour, and wielding a sword forged that same morning, at the head of a motley crew of household guards, which Sam noted with displeasure were either exceptionally old or exceptionally young. That isn't an army, it's hardly even a warband, Warrior, lend your strength to his cause, and bring him victory.