Artys Arryn
Artys inhaled deeply the scent of the salt air, smiling as he did so. The smell of the ocean almost blocked out the biting cold nipping at his nose with the pure joy of it, almost. Before him stretched the Gullway, the road between Runestone and Gulltown. Just coming into view at the end of the weathered stone road was Gulltown itself, the birds which gave the city its name wheeling in the air above the port. Beside him Robert grumbled and pulled his cloak tighter about him, "Thank the gods, maybe we can actually get a warm bed and some wine tonight. Maybe even a wench to take the chill from my bones. "
Several of the guardsmen who rode behind them could be heard mumbling agreement even as Ned answered from Artys' other side, "The cold getting to you Robert? How are you ever going to survive when we reach the North?" Both Andar and Albar snickered from their positions in the middle of the column. Artys had to admit about Ned the usually somber Stark man sounded unusually cheery, a mood he'd maintained for the entire fortnight that the journey from the Gates of the Moon to Gulltown had taken. Ned had spent the nights when they'd been forced to camp beneath the stars regaling their entire band with tales of Winterfell and the North. Of hunting in the Wolfswood, exploring the depths of Winterfell with his siblings, or of the massive godswood at the heart of the ancient fortress.
Most of the men who rode with them had scoffed at that idea, after all this was the Vale, heart of the Andal's in Westeros. Every man that Artys had with him had been raised in the light of the seven, and cut their teeth fighting against the First Men of the mountain clans who still held to the Old Gods. Yet the beautiful godswood and the great heart tree that Ned had described called out to Artys, he worshiped the seven like his father and his father before him, but Artys' had always been enthralled by the beauty of godswoods. What few he had seen at least, most of the ones in the Vale had been destroyed thousands of years ago.
Robert's response to Ned pulled Artys back to the present, "I don't know if will, are there even any inns to stop at up there? Or do all you northmen just sleep in caves and beneath your weirwoods?"
Ned chuckled at the bigger man's words, "We've inns Robert, but they're just scattered more widely than here in the south. So you'll do your fair share of sleeping in caves and beneath weirwoods."
The Baratheon lord grumbled something beneath his breath at the thought of that, and Artys had to hide a smile at his friend's expense. Robert was no pampered flower, and loved to spend his summers hunting and riding about. But by Robert's own admission he wasn't made for winter and the cold. On the handful of days when their party couldn't find inns to stay the night in Robert had complained bitterly at the cold, almost as bitterly as he complained about the fact that they had to take a ship.
Artys couldn't entirely blame him however, this winter was turning into a brutally cold one, the worst of the five that he had seen. Even Ronnel's pass, the lowest of the passes between Ironoaks and the Eyrie, had been truly treacherous during their journey. They'd lost four horses and one of their guardsmen had badly broken his leg during the crossing. They'd been forced to leave the poor man and another whom had taken ill at Ironoaks with a promise from Lord Waynwood to see the two men home once they where well enough to travel.
Still most of the journey wasn't extremely harrowing. They'd stayed at holdfasts or inns most nights, and one night even in a crofters barn. Artys' cousins at Runestone and Lord Waynwood had both let them rest in their castle's for two days, and thrown a feast for them as well. Ned and Robert where well loved here in the Vale after all, and Artys was still certain that Lady Waynwood wanted him to marry one of her daughters.
As the gates of the city drew nearer and the men around him took to talking among themselves Artys allowed his thoughts to instead drift forward. They planned to stay here in Gulltown for two more days, or as long as it took to find a ship traveling north to White Harbor. From here they would likely have to stop at Sisterton to resupply before journeying on to White Harbor. The trip to Winterfell from then on was fairly straight and simple.
The gates of the city, great oaken things banded with heavy black iron, stood open as Artys and his companions rode through, and a small squad of bored looking guardsmen stood watch just within them. Though the guards seemed more intent upon huddling around a brazier nestled within a small shed set up against the wall of one of the gatehouses. Two, the youngest by the look of them, stood outside the shack, clutching spears in gloved hands and questioning the handful of travelers entering the city before allowing them within.
The only other traveler before Artys' party was a round bellied man and two young boys driving a small wagon packed to the boards with firewood, and looking nervously back at the noblemen behind them as they tried to maneuver through the gate. After a few moments however they where through the gateway and within the city, trundling along as quickly as they seemingly could down the nearly empty street.
As Artys approached the two guardsmen stood marginally straighter, one reaching up to pull his steel half helm at the sight of what could only be a lord's routine. The taller of the two however sounded extremely bored as he looked up at Artys and drawled his questions, "Name m'lord?"
Artys noticed that tucked into a niche between the shack where most of the guardsmen stood and the doorway of the gatehouse was another guardsman, this one clutching a wax tablet onto which to write the information that the other guard asked for. Turning to the bored man Artys opened his mouth to speak when one of his knights beat him to it.
"Do you have eyes boy? Look at the bloody banners, he's Artys Arryn you fuckwit!" Artys sighed quietly, Ser Markus Pebble was one of the better knights in his father's service, loyal and good with a blade. But the man had a nasty temper and no fear when it came to speaking his mind. Something which the wiry and greying knight did often, especially when it came to berating others for their perceived mistakes.
Still Markus' words had the desired effect as the guardsman did indeed look up at the banner waving gently in the wind behind Artys, and the falcon and moon sigil upon his surcoat. The young man's eyes widened in fear as he realized who he was speaking to as he began to stutter nervously, "Ap-p-pologies m'lord, w-what is your buisness in Gulltown might I ask m-m'lord."
Artys caught the sight of a few of the man's fellows snickering in their shack, and even the clerk hiding a smile at seeing the soldier's reaction. Smiling apologetically at the young man he nodded towards the keep rising at the west end of the city, "We've come to see lord Grafton and speak with him about finding a ship guardsman..."
The man's wide eyed and terrified expression faded slightly at Artys' words as he answered, "N-natt m'lord. Apologies for before, please enjoy your stay in the city." Bowing his head the young man scurried back to the perceived safety of his companions in their shack. Leaving the other man who'd stood in the gateway watching after him with an amused expression on his face as he signaled Artys and his companions through.
Artys heard Robert stifle a chuckle as they slowly moved out of sight of the gatehouse, "Poor man about shit himself when Ser Markus lit into him, never seen someones eyes get so big Artys." Artys glanced back at his friends and noticed that even Ned had cracked a smile, as well as most of the guardsmen. The only man not seemingly amused by the exchange was Ser Markus, who glared sourly about as usual, muttering something under his breath as he did so. Shaking his head and smiling Artys looked back ahead, he felt a little bad for the guard but the look on his face had still been humorous.
Ahead of their advancing party the main road made straight for the central square of the city, despite it being midday however the wide street was mostly empty. The handful of people out and about merely offered swift bows and scurried about their buisness, making sure to stear well clear of the near to thirty armoured riders. Traffic picked up only marginally as the group neared the square, merchants bundled well against the cold began to line the streets, hawking their wears as Artys' and his companions passed.
Bakers and butchers, smiths and jewellers tried to catch their attention with promises of fine food and fine crafts. Yet Artys paid them little head, Gulltown was the sole city of the Vale, and one could find anything in its streets, not that Artys was looking for anything. When they reached the square itself the traffic had reached its greatest point, dozens of people moved about their buisnes none of them paying him an obvious heed now.
Finally a sign caught Artys eye just outside the square, a large stone building with a small walled courtyard surrounding it. A sign painted with an image of a blue dragon curled around itself and smoke puffing merrily from its nose with crude letters scrawled beneath it spelling; the Drake's Rest. More smoke rolled from two chimneys and even over the sounds of the market singing could be heard from within.
Leaning over Artys tapped Robert on the shoulder and gestured towards the inn, "Think that will do for the men? Then we can go up to the castle to pay our respects to Lord Grafton?" Robert nodded quickly, eyes darting about the inn's exterior as he did so. Artys leaned to his other side and repeated the question to Ned who also nodded approvingly. Looking back at his men, who had formed their own pocket of calm in the square's center, Artys gestured to them to follow and turned his horse for the inn. The crowds parted easily enough, with only a handful of dirty looks until they saw the sigil on his chest, and he quickly made his way to the entrance of the inn.
The flagstoned courtyard was empty except for a single stableboy standing idly near the entrance of the stables on the far end of the yard. Seeing nearly thirty armored horsemen came in the boy quickly scrambled within the stable as Artys and his men dismounted. Artys himself was busy stroking his horses nose when footsteps approached him from behind. Turning he was greeted with a long limbed man with a thick black beard, eyeing Artys and his companions critically and with half a dozen more men standing behind him.
Bowing respectfully the bearded man, obviously the stablemaster or a more experienced groom coughed before speaking, "Good day m'lord. Take it you'll be needing stabling for your horses?"
Artys gave him a nod, "We do, a stall and feed for each of the horses if you can, and a rub down for them as well. Except these three, just a quick bag of feed for them and a drink." He gestured to his horse as well as Ned's and Robert's, "We'll be leaving again momentarily."
The man nodded, chewing his lip thoughtfully, "Aye we can manage that m'lord, it might be a little tight if anyone else comes in but we can manage it." He looked over his shoulder and barked a command, sending the other men scrambling to take horses and begin guiding them into the stable. Turning back to Artys the man's eyes turned thoughtful as he evidentally did some calculations, "That'll be a star a head m'lord. You plan on staying more than tonight?"
Counting out four silver stags and a pair of copper stars from his purse Artys pressed them into the man's hand, "We'll see about it. Keep whatever extra there is."
Grinning widely the man took the reins of Artys horse and gently led the mount towards the stable as Artys turned back towards the inn. Striding for the entrance Artys listened to the sound of booted feet falling in behind him. Inside the inn was less than halfway full, with several long tables lining the common room and two stout hearths burning merrily against the cold. The patrons who where inside mostly looked to be sellswords and sailors, a handful of poorer merchants scattered among them. They where gathered near one of the hearths, listening and watching as a fair haired young man played a fiddle from a stool beside the fireplace and a pretty young woman sang a song about some famous knight or another.
Most of Artys men quickly filed off to the tables as Artys, Robert and Ned made their way to an aging woman behind the counter. The woman greeted them with a smile, "Welcome m'lords! How may I serve you today? Ale to warm you? Or food for your bellies?"
Artys smiled politely to the woman, "My thanks mistress, but we won't be staying long. I've merely come to ask that you feed my men and let them sleep in your common room tonight, and possibly the next as well."
The woman nodded cheerily, "Oh yes m'lord, no problems there. No rooms for yourself or your knights? I've fine rooms upstairs, and my girls are always accomodating." A greedy sparkle filled her eyes as she smiled far more slyly than Artys had expected.
Before Robert could respond however he shook his head, "Three rooms for my knights mistress. As for the three of us, we shall see. Though I'd be forever grateful if you'd keep three rooms open just in case."
Again the innkeeper nodded, though the sly look remained in place, "Very good m'lord. You'll understand my caution however if I ask for payment now, you've a large group after all."
Fishing a gold dragon from his purse Artys laid it on the bartop, keeping it covered with one hand as he did so until the innkeeper took it. The greedy sparkle returned only to be snuffed out by another cheery smile as the woman tucked the coin in her apron and darted off through a door behind the counter, hopefully to rouse her serving girls and cooks. Turning back to his men once more Artys strode through them to where their captain was seated, "Becken." The burly guardsman looked up questioningly, "We're going to the castle. You have command here, your food and beds are already paid for. Try to keep the men from getting to drunk? We'll hopefully be sailing tomorrow."
Becken gave a curt nod and turned back to his men, starting to pass the news on. As he did so Ser Markus and the other two knights Sers Mikael and Landren began to stand. Artys signalled them to return to their seats as he strode to them, "I want you three to head down to the docks once you've eaten. Ask around about ships going north, see if you can't book passage for me, Ned and Robert, and as many of the men as you can. We likely won't find a ship willing to take all of us at once, so the rest will return home from here." Turning to Ser Markus he jerked his head at the men-at-arms, then at his cousins, Andar and Albar where sitting in the midst of the soldiers listening to one of them tell a story with wide eyes, "Keep an eye on them, don't let them get to rowdy. We'll be back before dusk unless we're staying in the keep. Otherwise we'll send a messenger."
The grey haired knight nodded his assent as Artys turned to the door, where Robert and Ned where already waiting for him. Striding outside they found their horses still waiting, a lone stableboy just removing the feed bags from their noses. Artys passed the boy a copper star as he mounted, and the boy scampered away with a coughed thanks.
They where halfway to the keep on the far side of the city when Robert spoke, "Why didn't we just see if Lord Grafton could house the men in his barracks? I'm sure he has room, and we'd have saved a pretty penny on stabling and feeding the men."
Ned snorted derisively, "You don't pay attention worth a lick Robert. We talked about his last night, Lord Grafton and Lord Arryn aren't on the best of terms lately. Lord Marq isn't fond of the latest taxes that Lord Arryn sent out. Thinks that Gulltown's tariffs are unfair compared to the rest of the Vale's."
Artys nodded in agreement, "Aye, and we don't want to push his hospitality. Especially since he's been trying to convince father to betroth me to his eldest daughter, and father's been turning him down. Lord Grafton might not even let us stay within his walls tonight."
Robert muttered sheepishly after a moment, "Oh...But aren't you friends with his son? Skinny lad, stayed at the Gates not to long ago. Gerard?"
Artys chuckled, "Gerold, Lord Grafton's second. Aye we're friends, or near enough at least. But I'm not the lord of the Eyrie and he's not the lord of Gulltown so that doesn't help much."
The rest of the ride was passed in relative silence, only broken up by merchants yelling for their attention. Calls that fell silent as they reached the district nearest to the castle, shops and taverns giving way to sprawling mansions, homes of wealthy merchants and minor nobles who lived in or near the city. Gull's Rest itself was not a particularly tall or impressive keep especially when one grew up in the shadow of castle's like the Eyrie or the Gates of the Moon. But it was strong enough, with three stout towers behind a single tall curtain wall.
Here too the gates where open, flanked by two men on either side, far more attentive men than the guards at the city gate. They allowed passage without a word, merely waving Artys and company though to the courtyard. Here nearly forty men stood at attention, forming a path that led to the steps of the main tower, where the Grafton's themselves where gathered.
A handful of stablehands ran out to collect their horses as Artys, Robert and Ned dismounted. Then just as quickly vanished with them into the stables as the three young men made their way towards Lord Grafton and his family. Artys caught Ned whispering under his breath as they walked, "Bit much isn't it?"
Indeed he couldn't disagree with his friend, usually lords simply invited visitors to be greeted in the great hall. This was the first time he'd ever had the lord turn out his household guard and greet him in the courtyard, and it felt strange. Maybe Lord Grafton was trying to make up for recent strains on his relationship with the Eyrie with this however.
Lord Grafton himself bowed low as the three of them approached, the tall middle aged lord smiling as he greeted them, "Welcome my lords to Gulltown, I hope your journey was a pleasant one."
Robert chuckled, "Pleasant as can be in bloody winter."
That caught the big man an elbow in the ribs from Ned as Artys bowed in return, giving an apologetic smile, "That we did my lord. It is a pleasure to see you again, its been to long."
Lord Grafton gave an understanding nod and chuckled, "Nearly a year I believe. I believe you saw my son Gerold much more recently however." The lord gestured to his younger son, a tall but lanky young man who nodded familiarly to Artys, Robert and Ned. "However I don't believe you've ever had the chance to meet my elder son, Terrence, or my daughter, Bethany." A hard eyed young man with dark hair spilling about his shoulders bowed politely as a pretty girl, no more than three and ten, gave a shy curtsy, her eyes looking anywhere other than Artys as she did so.
Artys bowed to each of them, "I have not had the honor, Ser Terrence, Lady Bethany." He managed to keep his voice from cracking as he spoke to the young girly, and thanked the gods for that as he straightened and turned back to her father.
For an instant Lord Grafton's eyes flitted hopefully between Artys and his daughter before he regained his composure. A look of almost disapointment came to his face in the instant before his mask fell in place and he gestured for the keep, "Please enter Lord Artys, we have just preparred a midday meal. Perhaps you and your companions can join us? I hear you're headed north to Winterfell after all. We'd love to hear of the north from young Lord Stark."
Robert Baratheon
Robert heaved over the side of the merchant cog as it rocked heavily with the waves. Four days at sea and the damn ship hadn't stopped lurching like a drunk the entire time. He watched as the little bit of food he'd managed to eat that morning went streaming down into the water below, accompanied by a healthy amount of what he hoped was wine.
They'd begun the second half of their voyage to the north on a high note, clear skies and fair winds, the water halfway calm. Until they'd hit the open ocean just outside of the harbor of Sisterton, then it'd gone to all seven hells faster than Robert could drink the memory away. He'd always hated ships, always, and watching his parent's ship break apart in that storm within sight of Storm's End had done much to reinforce that hatred. But they where the only way to go North with winter freezing all the passes out of the Vale shut, so here he was.
Stumbling backwards Robert found himself leaning against the mast and slowly allowed himself to sink down so he sat at its base. He closed his eyes hoping that it would help the sickness fade as he tried to regain his composure. At least the stop in Sisterton hadn't been to bad, people called the Sistermen smugglers, pirates and cutthroats but they hadn't seemed all that bad to him.
Lord Sunderland had greeted them somewhat cooly but the man had been a gracious host. Feeding them well and sharing stories about his adventures sailing the Narrow Sea in his younger days. Adventures that Robert wouldn't have minded replicating if they didn't involve bloody ships. The Lord of the Three Sisters had been a far better host than that pompous prick Lord Grafton back in Gulltown. All he'd wanted to talk about was trade, and wouldn't Artys mention to his father how much better trade would be if the tariffs where just a little lower. Not to mention the man had spent the entire time practically throwing his daughter at Artys. A pretty lass to be honest, but to quiet for Robert's tastes, and to skinny too.
Booted feet thumped on the deck next to him and stopped and Robert cracked an eyelid to see who it was, then quickly shut it again as he caught sight of the mast rocking above him. The damn sickness was coming back! After a brief moment of panic he managed to choke it down and croak out a few words surprising himself with how slurred they where, "What do you want Ned?"
He could hear the smile in his friends words as he spoke, "Just came up to check on you. Artys said he thought it was raining blood, then he realized it was you spewing wine over the side again and thought one of us should make sure you where okay."
Robert growled halfheartedly and made to stand, managing it with one hand on the mast, as long as he didn't look up from the deck he'd be fine, "Shut your trap Ned. Don't want to hear it. I'm cold, I'm fucking wet, and I hate this gods dammed ship more and more with every moment. So you better have a good reason to be up here or I'll throw us both over the side and see if that doesn't ease my suffering."
There was a brief moment of silence before Ned began to chuckle, "Captain says we should be coming into view of White Harbor shortly. Thought I'd tell you so you could begin praising the gods, and Artys wants to see you in the cabin if you're not predisposed I believe his words where."
Robert straightened and instantly regretted it as the ship lurched again, why did this damn thing move so much? Growling once more he began to make his way towards the cabins at the rear of the ship, "Couldn't come and get me himself could he?"
Ned sounded amused, "Actually he's just about as sick as you, only he's got the good sense not to be up here staring at the sky and drinking in attempts to make it worse." Robert stumbled as the ship hit a particularly bad wave, and Ned grunted as he helped steady him, "As it is I'm fairly certain you couldn't catch me if you wanted to throw me overboard. Much less manage to heave yourself over the side."
Robert cursed his friend and batted him across the shoulder with one hand, not to hard though, he wasn't entirely certain if he could stand without Ned right now. Slowly the two of them descended into the cabin of the ship. Artys was sitting upon one of their shared cabin's three cots, looking slightly pale and wain. Looking up though Artys started in surprise, "Gods Robert, you look like you've been dragged through all seven hells, twice."
Cursing again Robert allowed Ned to help settle him on one of the other cots in the room. The thin straw mattress helping take some of the rocking out of the ship oddly enough. Artys ran a hand through his hair and spoke first, "Ned pass on the captain's message?"
Ned nodded and Robert grunted, so Artys carried on, "Figured we should go over what to expect in White Harbor. I remember a little from our lessons but Ned you're our best authority. How will the Manderly's greet us?"
Ned shrugged, "They where southern once, and they kept some of their traditions from then. They'll greet us just like any other house, with bread and salt, maybe a feast." Robert gagged slightly at the thought of food, though neither of his friends seemed to notice. Ned carried on, "Given the fact that its winter and we're down to a dozen men he might offer us guides and guards for the trip to Winterfell. Don't know how bad bandits have been lately, but he'll want to see us there safe. Definitely furs and supplies, horses too."
Robert managed to remember that much, they'd left their horses and half their guardsmen in Gulltown, to many to fit on board the ship the captain had said. So Ser Markus had been ordered to take the men who wouldn't be carrying on back to the Eyrie. The other two knights had stayed with them though, as had eight of the guardsmen and both of Artys' cousins. The fact that the two Royces hadn't gotten sea sick in the slightest was enough that Robert wanted to bash both of the little shits over the head right now. Maybe he would in fact, Artys might not mind, he was sick too.
As Robert opened his mouth to put forward the idea Artys instead spoke, "Well hopefully he'll let us rest for a day or two as well. I haven't slept since this bloody storm opened up." Robert bobbed his head in agreement, though he had managed a few bits of sleep here and there, they where mostly under the influence of large amounts of wine though. He idly wondered if their was more wine in the ship somewhere, he'd brought most of what was onboard with him, thinking it might help settle his stomach. Still maybe the captain had some somewhere, a nice arbor gold would be lovely right now.
He was snapped back to reality as he realized that Artys was talking to him, "-better get you cleaned up Robert. You look like you just crawled out of a gutter." Ned was nodding in agreement as he reached for a water basin and offered it to Robert. Almost like he was watching his own hands move without him actually controlling them Robert began to wash. Though the rocking of the ship made it difficult.
The sea water in the basin was fucking cold, was the first thought to enter Robert's mind. The frigid water snapping his mind back to some small level of sobriety as he managed to scrub his face clean without spilling the entire basin across the room. After that he managed to struggle into a clean shirt and pull on cloak over it, watching as Artys did the same. His friend pulling on his shadowskin cloak as usual, for a moment Robert revelled in the memory of how Artys' had gotten that cloak, and one hand reached up to the leather cord around his neck. On that cord hung two great fangs from the shadowcat that was now Artys' cloak, a reminder of that adventure.
Now dressed the two of them staggered out on deck, using eachother for support. Artys looked much less pale now that he'd washed and put on a new shirt, and Robert hoped he'd improved half as much as his friend. Ned and the Royces where already on deck, standing on the bow and staring ahead, watching as a great grey shape emerged from the afternoon fog.
The shape turned into a massive stone castle, rotting apart and situated on a rocky island connected to another island by a narrow stone bridge. Their cog sailed directly underneath it and Robert noticed that another castle was atop the second island. This one newer and slightly smaller, banners decorated with mermen flapping from its spires. Ahead of them in the harbor formed by the two islands and great stone sea wall, a city appeared from the mist.
Proud white walls surrounded it and the familiar sound of calling gulls filled the air. Ned shouted above the filthy birds so that he could be heard, pointing at the older castle as he did so, "That's the Wolf's Den, the King's in the North built it a thousand years ago to fend off the Sistermen!"
Robert nodded along with his friends words, scarcely listening as he was nearly overcome with the sight of land. Then the smell hit, if Gulltown had smelled like baking bread, woodsmoke and wool, then White Harbor smelled much different like fish and salt. Like the sea to the almost village like smell of Gulltown. The cold was worse than Robert had dared dream, biting at him like a wolf as he stood on the cog's deck. Only a few ships huddled in White Harbor's grasp however, and he wasn't made to suffer the cold for long as their ship expertly glided in to the docks.
There men on shore quickly moored them in place and laid a gangplank across to the cog. Robert was the first one down, marveling in the feel of solid land beneath his boots as he did so. Ned wasn't far behind, and Robert noticed that the shorter man had the biggest grin he'd ever seen nearly splitting his face in half. Clapping Robert on the back Ned laughed out loud, "Welcome to White Harbor Robert. Welcome to the North."
Author's Note: So yeah sorry if not much happened in this chapter, I just couldn't justify it to myself, skipping straight to Winterfell, and there wasn't much to do in the Vale for now. So here's a filler chapter. Thanks to everyone who was kind enough to favorite or follow, and for all the reviews. I won't spoil who Artys will end up paired with just yet, to be honest I haven't really decided for myself yet. Apologies for the grammar ticks that Hail King Cerion mentioned, I'm kind of just doing this myself and I tend not to notice them very easily. Thanks for all the suggestions, especially Warsameking, suggestions are always welcome. Also somebody I believe somebody mentioned that they envisioned Artys as looking like Liam Hemsworth, I can kinda see that being a thing. Hope you all enjoyed it and I'll keep working on getting you guys more, though not as quickly as this chapter came generally.
-S