MORGAN
The common room of the Crossroads inn had unexpectedly, and to the tavern keeper's despair, become the audience chamber of His Majesty, King Robert. The room was crowded, filled with Northerners, Lannister men, and Black Eagles, though the latter were the least numerous. The king was slumped in an armchair at the far end of the room by the fireplace. His expression was sullen and weary. The queen and Joffrey were standing beside him. His cousin's arm was still wrapped in thick silk bandages, with dried blood stains.
Lord Eddard's youngest daughter stood in the center of the room, with only her father and sister for company, and all eyes on her. Both sisters were trembling.
"Your aunt doesn't look very happy," said Sonia, to her left. Her voice little louder than a whisper.
"How observant. I'm surprised you were able to notice" Edrik replied wryly from his right. The cut Joffrey had given him on his cheek was still clearly visible.
"Shut up, both of you," Morgan said through his teeth. "All we need now is for you to cause another scandal."
"True. It was most improper of you to cause all this fuss, Edrik. What would your father say if he saw you?"
"Please," said his brother in exasperation. "I've done literally nothing. I don't even know what fly has bitten that little monster this time. I wish the direwolf had ripped his arm off."
"Stop it already," Morgan insisted, elbowing his brother in the stomach to get the message.
She scanned the room with her eyes, observing the faces of those present. The Northerners were enraged, as were the members of the Black Eagles who had witnessed what had happened. The Stark bastard, Jon Snow, seemed to be gathering the fury of both sides in his eyes red with anger. On his Uncle Renly's lips, a smile surfaced that could mean anything and Ser Barristan was completely serious, as was Sandor Clegane. The only one who surprised her was Jaime Lannister, looking bored and not seeming to care in the least about his nephew's situation. Behind Lord Stark and his daughters was her mother. Although from the position she was in she could not see her face, she could imagine it.
Perhaps now you will learn what Joffrey really is. Maybe you'll finally realize how many years he's been torturing your own children right under your nose.
"Is all this really necessary?" demanded Lord Stark angrily. "Is this stupidity necessary?"
"How dare you address your king in that tone?" said Cersei Lannister indignantly.
"Shut up, woman," the king shouted back, straightening up on his makeshift throne. "I'm sorry Ned, but it's necessary. Then we'll settle this matter as soon as possible."
"What matter?" Eddard Stark's tone of voice was icy. In all those weeks she had been observing him, it was the first time she had heard him speak that way to his friend the king.
"Too well you know, Stark," the queen said, advancing a step. "Your daughter assaulted my son, with the help of my sister-in-law's ruffians. And that beast tried to tear his arm off."
"That's a lie!" cried Arya. "She only bit him a little."
"I saw it with my own eyes," said Cersei, obviating the girl. "You and the Black Eagles surrounded him and beat him with sticks, and then you ordered that monster to bite him."
"That is not true, your grace," her mother said, her tone even colder than that of Lord Eddard's. "The prince attacked Lord Stark's daughter, and the wolf came out to defend her mistress. Nothing more. There were numerous witnesses."
"You lie!" accused Joffrey. "I was attacked by everyone! You, Edrik, the she-wolf, and all your lackeys! You saw it mother!" Morgan noticed that Joffrey dared not look at his father when he spoke.
"Enough!" roared the king as he rose to his feet, his voice hoarse with irritation. There was absolute silence in the room. "Let's see child, you're going to tell me everything. Don't leave anything out and don't even think of lying to me. Lying to the king is a very serious crime." He then turned to Joffrey. "When she's done, it will be your turn. Until then, I don't want to hear a word from you."
Arya began to tell the story. As she told how Joffrey threatened Edrik with his sword, she saw her uncle's eyes glance at her brother, who had put a finger to his cheek, pointing to the wound Joffey had given him. When she finished, her cousin, very pale, began to narrate a very different version. When he finished speaking, the king sat back down heavily. Knowing his uncle, it was obvious that he would have liked to be doing anything else but that at that moment. Other witnesses were parading in and making their statements, as contradictory as those of her cousin and Arya Stark.
"By the seven hells, what do you get out of this? One says one thing, the next says another... I'm not even going to bother asking you, I know what you're going to say," said the king to her mother.
"The king I thought I had married would have punished these insolent ones by now," said Cersei. "Their very presence is disrespectful."
"What would you have me do, Cersei? She's but a child. Do you want me to have her whipped through the streets when we get to King's Landing? Damn it, children have been fighting forever. Nothing serious has happened."
"Joff will have to carry those scars for the rest of his life. And what about the Black Eagles, are you going to let them go unpunished?" The queen was furious.
"If you insist on blaming my son and the Black Eagle Strike Force for what happened I will be forced to defend their innocence no matter what. Including a trial by combat, if necessary, as it seems the queen doesn't lack false witnesses for her accusations" replied her mother before the king could respond.
Surprise took hold of those present, including the queen, who did not seem to expect this turn of events. The only one who seemed excited at such a prospect was the Kingslayer, who wore a broad smile on his face.
"That I would love to see," Sonia said quietly. "I don't think I've ever seen your mother brandishing Hauteclere."
"Me neither," admitted Morgan.
"I did once. I was very insistent that she show it to me," said her brother. "But wield it in a real fight? Never."
"I don't think it's necessary to go to such extremes, Lady Edelgard," said the king, silencing the crowd. "The Black Eagles have always served the realm well since its inception, and I have no reason to doubt them or my nephew. Ned, see to it that your daughter receives a good punishment. I will do the same for my son."
"Certainly, your grace," nodded Ned Stark. He looked quite relieved.
"And what of the direwolf?" cried her aunt. It was clear she had not yet given up.
"I'd forgotten about the damned wolf," said Robert. He shrugged his shoulders, resigned. "Let Ser Illyn handle it."
"One is not enough. There are two others. They're beasts and I don't want them here, Robert. Any of them could attack Joffrey, Tommen or Myrcella again."
"All right, as you wish."
"You can't be serious, Robert!" protested Eddard Stark.
"That's enough, Ned! Subject settled." His uncle was in no mood for further discussion. "Direwolves are wild beasts. Sooner rather than later they will attack your sons, as they have mine."
"He doesn't mean to kill Lady, does he, father?" said Sansa suddenly, realizing what the king was saying. "No, not Lady, Lady is good, she hasn't bitten anyone."
"Neither has Ghost!" exclaimed Jon Snow immediately, stepping forward through the crowd. "Don't let them kill them. Stop them, father, please."
"The direwolves are innocent, your grace," said her mother, defiantly.
"You question my orders? You defy me, dragon spawn?" said her uncle, rising suddenly. His face was red with anger. It had been so long since he had called her mother that name that she had almost forgotten. Her father had told them it was because her hair color reminded him of members of the ancient Targaryen dynasty. Despite the fact that the king was more than a head taller than her, her mother did not look away from him. The tension was so high that even a slight cough at that moment might well have unleashed the seven hells.
"Bah, all right, we'll have it your way, dear sister. Choose your champion, Ser Boros, get ready," said the king.
"Your grace?" asked Boros Blount, confused.
"You heard me, everybody out. Let's get this pantomime over with once and for all. I hope it will at least be an entertaining fight." He left the room without another word, with heavy steps. The room remained silent for a brief moment, until everyone present realized what had just happened and left the room, following the king.
"It looks like your wishes are going to come true, Sonia" said her brother as they left the tavern.
"Yes... but he's going to fight Sir Belly. A training dummy is a better opponent" said Sonia with irony.
The place chosen for the fight was the courtyard in front of the inn, near the center of the camp. Apparently, word had spread quickly and dozens of people had gathered to see the fate of the Stark wolves. Some had brought crates and barrels to sit on to make themselves more comfortable during the spectacle.
Ser Boros Blount, rather than a knight, looked like a pig dulled in armor. He wore a thick plated cuirass and under it protruded a coat of mail. From the way his bulging chest rose and fell, Morgan noted that he must have been very angry, or had trouble with the weight of the armor. He had already drawn his sword and his squire was helping him strap the shield to his arm. The wood was painted white, and on it was drawn a golden crown surrounded by seven white swords, the symbol of the royal guard. His protection was completed by a rounded helmet with a visor on the front.
Her mother's attire, on the other hand, consisted of nothing more than the leather and cloth clothes she had put on when she got up that morning. She wore neither helmet nor shield, and her only preparation for combat had consisted of pulling her hair into a ponytail. In her left hand she wielded one of the most magnificent weapons Morgan had ever seen. A poleaxe that glinted in the sun. The long oaken handle was trimmed with beautiful golden ornaments and the head that crowned it was made of a coal-black steel. Valyrian steel, created long ago. As far as she understood, the weapon had originally belonged to House Celtigar, but Lord Ardrian had given it to her mother years ago. A priceless gift that Morgan could not understand how it had been possible, although she had the suspicion that there was something strange behind that gift. Surely Hubert knew about it, but she never dared Sonia to ask her father about it. Her mother had renamed the magnificent weapon and had it modified to fit her weight, but the axe was still imposing.
Halfway between the combatants sat King Robert and Cersei Lannister, along with Joffrey, standing beside his mother. Their younger cousins were not present, for which Morgan was grateful. The king raised his hand.
"The match will be first blood. I expect you to give me a good fight, but I don't want the blood to run to the river."
About twenty paces separated them. Not enough.
As soon as the king gave the signal, Edelgard von Hresvelg advanced swiftly, more swiftly than anyone would have expected for someone carrying a weapon of that scale. Like a flash, she wielded the axe with both hands and raised it above her head. To Morgan's surprise, Ser Boros managed to raise the shield before the weapon descended on him. It was not enough.
The blade sliced through wood, steel, flesh and bone and into the ugly white knight's face. The moment was almost as sweet as her cousin Joffrey's furious groan or Cersei Lannister's face of dismay. When her mother pulled the axe from the dead knight's skull, a quarter of Sir Boros' head flew off the makeshift arena, splattering blood and brains on some of the onlookers, pale with terror. Even her uncle Renly had lost his usual smile. The king approached the corpse of his fallen knight, looking at it with disdain.
"Damn you... The direwolves live, but I don't want them in my castle, Ned. Let them be taken back to Winterfell" Robert declared, in a weary voice, as her mother retreated and handed the axe to Ser Richard Horpe. Before she left and lost herself in the crowd, she exchanged a glance with Morgan, tiredness and fury in her violet eyes.
TYRION
"Are you sure you want to leave us so soon, Lord Tyrion?" the Lord Commander asked him.
"Quite sure, Lord Mormont. And please don't call me Lord. I am not lord of any place, Tyrion is enough," Tyrion replied. "My father must be wondering what happened to me. Maybe he thinks you've convinced me to wear black."
"I wish I could." Mormont picked up a chop and took a good bite. Jeor Mormont was old, but anyone would dare to tell by the way he carried himself. "You are a man of great cunning, Tyrion. We have need of men like you here."
"My father would love to see me in black, too. But I don't intend to give him that pleasure, sorry," Tyrion said with a smile. "Besides, the whores of Lannisport would be very lonely in my absence." They burst out laughing. Tyrion leaned over to pick up a rack of ribs. They had just cooked the meat and it was exquisite.
"Lannister is mocking us," Benjen Stark said. His face was icy as the North itself. "Is that what you wanted to come here for?"
"Only at you, Stark. Well, for that and to piss from the end of the world. Cheer up that face, there were more Lannisters at Winterfell and you seemed in rather better spirits."
"Think of one thing when you're in your southern brothels, Lannister. Many of the boys you have seen here will die beyond the Wall. The wildlings will gut them, starvation will kill them, or perhaps the cold will finish them sooner. Our work is no joke."
"Listen, Stark. I don't know what I've done to offend you, but please stop insulting my intelligence. Most of the men I've seen at Castle Black have gray hair on their balls. The young ruffians of today put on a different black cloak," Tyrion replied. A few chuckles sounded, but they were more of resignation than anything else. He had hit the bull's eye.
"You are like the rest of the southern lords. Like Lord Stannis, King Robert, or your father. You think we only fight savages, ghosts and fantasies. You have no idea what's on the other side of the Wall." Thereupon he stood up out of the blue and left the room, as serious as if he had a stake up his ass.
"Excuse Ben Stark. He can be too serious at times, but his words are not without reason," the Lord Commander chided him.
"Must run in the family. I've seen stones with more sense of humor than a Stark" said Tyrion, eliciting a laugh.
"That may be, but in the end the Starks are always right. Winter is coming, Lord Tyrion, and the Night's Watch is not remotely prepared for it" said Bowen Marsh, the Lord Steward.
"You offer a dull life of chastity, in the coldest confines of the continent and with someone like Ben Stark to liven up the evenings. Take the blindfold off your eyes, friends. No young man with an ounce of brains would choose the Wall over Dragonstone. This is nothing but a frozen graveyard," Tyrion said, perhaps more harshly than he should.
"Very harsh words, but true," said Yoren. "I have been a recruiter for the last thirty years, Tyrion, and I have never seen anything like this last decade. Years ago, I always returned to the Wall with a few dozen recruits, some even knights. Now I only return with a few thieves and rapists, and that's with luck. Has your lord father told you what happened after the sack of King's Landing?"
"I believe they crowned our dear King Robert, if I remember correctly. Though I may be wrong, the story is a bit confusing," Tyrion said with a smile.
"No, that's not what I mean. You see, your father was going to send hundreds of men men from late King Aerys' City Watch, those that were left alive, at least."
"Let me guess, the end has something to do with heads and spikes?"
"No, they were taken before Yoren arrived to bring them to the Wall," Bowen Marsh said. "That bastard Stannis Baratheon took them with him to Dragonstone." Tyrion was surprised that his father had let those prisoners escape alive, let alone willingly give them to Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard, but he might have been too busy preparing for his sister's wedding to pay attention to a few hundred Targaryen royalists. "Damn him and his wife."
"I, on the other hand, think Lady Edelgard is a great woman. Just as I think you are a great man, Lord Tyrion," Maester Aemon said from across the table. He spoke without raising his voice, but all present fell silent as they heard the old man speak. "I believe you are both giants, and that your footsteps are heard even here, at the end of the world."
"I have been called many things, my lord," Tyrion said, surprised by the old man's kind words. "But never once a giant."
"I believe it is so." The blind maester's clouded eyes bore into Tyrion's. "Did they tell you that Black Eagles once came here, to the Wall?"
"No, but I would love to hear that story," Tyrion said with respect and much curiosity.
The blind maester smiled. He was a small, wrinkled and bald little man. The maester's collar hung loosely around his throat and it seemed that at any moment it could knock him down from the weight of the chains of various metals alone.
"I believe it was before the Greyjoy Rebellion, when Lord Commander Qorgyle was still with us" Maester Aemon began, thoughtfully.
"Yes, and I did not yet have this shoulder wound" said Yoren. "It was Cotter Pyke who accompanied them to Castle Black from Eastwatch. As you can guess visits are not very common around here, for him it was as if King Robert himself had come."
"Oh, by the Old Gods, I'd forgotten about that," sighed Jeor Mormont. Something told Tyrion that that anecdote was going to be more entertaining than he thought.
"They were a young couple, those two. And very lively, full of life and curiosity. I still remember like it was yesterday the nights I spent locked in the library with that boy, or the sweet voice of the girl. They brought so much life to this cold place when they were here," Maester Aemon continued.
"Too much, in my opinion," Bowen Marsh said. "This is no place for a woman. Her very presence was a provocation; if all that happened it was her fault."
"I think I'm missing something," Tyrion said, taking a swig of wine to go with the lamb. "What are you all not telling me?"
"A trio of recruits tried to rape the girl," Lord Mormont said gelidly. "They'd only just arrived, they hadn't even uttered the oaths yet. I'm sure they thought they could get away with it as long as they weren't sworn brothers."
"I imagine it didn't end well."
"No. But not the way you would expect," Yoren said. "The girl skewered two with her sword before they even got to lay a finger on her. We caught the third when he ran out of the room, screaming and crying for help in the middle of the night. We had him hanged before dawn." Tyrion almost choked with laughter at the explanation, though to some extent he was not as surprised as he had expected with the end of the story.
"A most unfortunate affair," the old maester admitted. "But I'm glad the girl was unharmed - what was her name, Donna, Dorea...?"
"Dorothea," said Jeor Mormont. On that occasion Tyrion who ended up pouring wine out of his mouth.
The Mystical Songstress, Tyrion wondered in bewilderment. He could not even begin to imagine what in the Seven Hells could possibly bring someone like her to that part of the world. Whatever had brought her here, it wasn't just to sing for rapists, murderers and forgotten old men.
Much later, when everyone had shared their anecdotes, the transcendental business of dinner was settled and the other ones had left, Mormont offered Tyrion a seat by the fireside and a drink of liquor.
"The Kingsroad can be dangerous this far north," commented the Lord Commander as they drank. "You will need someone to escort you along the way, at least until you reach Winterfell."
"That won't be necessary. I'm counting on Jyck and Morrec, and Yoren is heading south as well. And believe me when I tell you that no one will dare lay a hand on a Lannister when I head west once I've left the Neck behind," Tyrion replied. The strong liquor made Tyrion start to stagger, but he was not so drunk that he did not realize where the Old Bear wanted to go out.
"Yoren is only one man, and the road can be dangerous until you reach the Riverlands. The Night's Watch will escort you to Winterfell. With three more men you will be much safer," he replied in a tone that brooked no argument.
"You are very kind, Lord Mormont. I wish I could repay your kindness in some way." Here it comes.
"You may do so. Your sister sits next to the king. Your brother is a great knight, a member of the Kingsguard. And your father is the most powerful lord in Westeros. Tell them of our needs. You have seen it, the Night's Watch is dying," Mormont said gloomily.
"Perhaps you should rethink your recruitment methods. Pay good wages, fewer rapists, do away with the celibacy thing... Lady Edelgard seems to be doing quite well," Tyrion said, more seriously than he let on. "Maybe it's time for a renewal."
"I wish I could. Lady Edelgard and Lord Stannis defend the Narrow Sea, but it is us who defend the northern border of the realm. We barely have enough to survive each winter, the rapists seem to be the only ones willing to come this far and the women thing...well, you'd be surprised how many brothers visit Mole's Town on a regular basis. If it were that simple, we would not be in this situation, Lord Tyrion." Tyrion understood that the old man was deadly serious, and he felt some pity for him. He needed to believe that all his years at the Wall had served a purpose, and that a little girl had not eclipsed them in a few short years.
"I promise you that I will tell my brothers and my father of your needs. And also Lord Stannis and Lady Edelgard if I have the occasion," Tyrion said earnestly. He obviated that his brothers would laugh in his face, his father would ask him if he had gone mad, and the lords of Dragonstone would not pay him the slightest attention.
"We have less than a thousand men in the whole guard, far fewer. If the wildlings were to attack the Wall, I have no men to defend it, not nearly enough. A few weeks ago, I sent Yohn Royce's son on his first expedition. I would have sent Ben Stark but the boy insisted, said it was his right as a knight. I sent him with two of my best men. And now I have the body of a deserter and two missing. I have so few men...I don't even dare send anyone else to look for them."
"Don't. If the wildlings, grumkins or snarks attack you hold out behind your massive wall and wait for help from the Starks." If the books didn't lie, it wouldn't be the first time the Northerners had had to come to the aid of the Night's Watch.
"It would be the logical thing to do. But I can't stand by and wait for enemies to descend upon us. We must be ready. Mance Rayder is gathering the wildling tribes. Tens of thousands of wildlings will descend on the Wall like we haven't seen in centuries. And I fear that won't be the worst of it. If they should take the Wall... Tell them, Tyrion. Tell everyone and make them to believe you. If we're not ready, may the gods have mercy on us."
HUBERT
This damned, insufferable smell again, he thought, gripping the reins of his mare, as he continued at the head of the battalion of Black Eagles, behind the Northern and Lannister guards, almost at the tail of the royal procession. Ahead of him rode Lady Edelgard, majestic on her steed, flanked by her two offspring. Petra followed not far behind them, alert to any unforeseen events or threats that might come from the crowd that swirled as they passed. As they neared the center of the city, the greater the number of citizens who stopped to watch them, whispering among themselves as they passed by. "Glory to King Robert!" shouted some, accompanied later by "Hail to Prince Joffrey!" or "Hail to Queen Cersei!". There were also cheers for Lord Renly, Ser Barristan the Bold and even the Kingslayer. Altogether, they barely outnumbered the ubiquitous cries of "Lady Edelgard!" that roused his mistress in her path. The Lady of Dragonstone stood strong and proud on her mount, sheathed in her armor as if she had just returned from battle, but she spared no greetings, and every now and then let a citizen come forward to heed their entreaties. She was just as a leader should look. Pure and strong, but at the same time close and kind.
His anger was growing by the minute, as the foul smell of the city was getting in his nostrils. He had never been in a place that smelled so bad in all his years of life, and that was saying a lot. The suburbs of Enbarr, the Abyss, Oldtown or the port of Nuvelle... none even came close to the stench that King's Landing gave off. It was as if the city was poorly made, from the roof tiles to its foundations. It had no sewage system, not even a rudimentary one, let alone public latrines, so feces ended up accumulating in the streets until the City Watch deigned to clean it up. The walls, which he was sure seemed widely ample centuries ago had only caused the population to crowd behind the walls in search of safety while their health deteriorated.
The more time he was forced to spend in that city, the more easily he understood how successful Ferdinand and Constance had been when they designed Nuvelle-Enbarr. The new city, only a few hours by boat from the capital, had experienced exponential population growth practically since its inception, when it was built upon three of the centuries-old villages of the island of Dragonstone.
"You look disturbed, father," commented Sonia, who rode beside him. "More than usual."
"It's just the smell," replied Hubert, absorbed in thought. There were many things troubling him, but Sonia had no need to know about it for now. She was very competent, more so even than he was when he was her age, but she was still too young. Her time would come, but not yet.
"I recognize your disgusted face perfectly, father. And this is not it, or not quite. May I know what is troubling you?" his daughter inquired, dissatisfied with his answer.
"I am concerned that you allowed Edrik to leave the Red Keep. Bringing him to the Kingsroad was unwise" he replied, in a harsher tone than he intended. He hoped that was enough to satisfy his daughter's curiosity.
"I'm sorry, but it didn't seem like a bad idea at the time. Edrik didn't want to go back to Dragonstone so soon, and besides, the road seemed a much safer place than this nest of vipers. I didn't count on Joffrey."
"The prince grows more daring and unpredictable with each passing day. I had hoped it was just a phase, but he's becoming a danger."
"You're thinking of doing something about it, aren't you?" asked Sonia with satisfaction.
"Maybe so, but I'll wait for the time being. Maybe now that he's got the Stark girl with him he'll calm down. If not...we'll see."
"You just give me the order, and I'll see to it that he dies in the most painful way possible," Sonia said. She tried not to show it, but her eyes sparkled with joy. That was her biggest problem, she let herself be moved too much by her feelings. To her, Edrik and Morgan were her childhood friends, not the lords she should serve with absolute loyalty. When emotions got in the way, plans never went as planned.
"You'll be the first to know" Hubert lied, smiling. The retinue had stopped again on their way to the Red Keep. He was beginning to grow impatient. Damn this hellish scent. Suddenly he noticed something strange in what his daughter had just told him.
"Did you mention that Ser Edrik didn't want to return so soon to Dragonstone?" he asked.
"Yes. Lord Stannis asked us to return to Dragonstone when it was confirmed that Lord Stark would be the next Hand of the King, but Edrik managed to talk him out of it until you and Lady Edelgard returned. I suppose you already know this, but he has strengthened the guard considerably since you left. The Hegemon Guard numbers about two hundred inside the Red Keep, including Ser Rolland. Nothing seems out of the ordinary, but... something doesn't add up to me."
His instincts matched his daughter's. He was already aware of the increase in Lord Stannis's personal guard in the capital. He hadn't given it much thought, even less so considering the recent murder of Jon Arryn, but that Lord Stannis had ordered his son to return to Dragonstone was a major development. It indicated that Stannis did not trust the protection offered by Hubert's network of spies in the capital. Edelgard's husband was afraid, and that was rare.
"Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary about Lord Stannis?" asked Hubert. He was afraid something might have slipped his mind, and it was the last thing he needed at that moment.
"He seems more serious than usual, if that's even possible. The guard rounds change much more frequently and he uses escorts for himself and Edrik at all times. The tower looks like a camp," Sonia said thoughtfully. "Lord Arryn's death has affected him, no doubt. I have not yet found the culprit, though I have my suspicions. And my informants haven't found anything congruent either."
"Have you been careful?" The murder of the Hand of the King was a mystery still unsolved, and with too many suspects. The Lannisters, Varys, Littlefinger, Renly... even Lysa Arryn might have hidden interests in his death. Sticking their noses too far into the matter could attract unwanted, and dangerous, attention.
"What do you take me for? Never less than three intermediaries, just as you taught me. Lady Lysa's return to the Vale has complicated the investigation..."
"Never mind," Hubert cut her off. "Forget about the murder, there are other priorities."
"Priorities? What are you up to? Does mother know?" asked Sonia. He was revealing too much to her. He had to end that conversation, and fast.
"Your mother has her obligations and I have mine, leave her out of this. Just focus on protecting Edrik and Morgan, as you have done so far. If you must return to Dragonstone, so be it. I leave it in your hands."
"It will be done, father." He was sure his daughter would have wanted to continue the conversation, but Hubert didn't give her the chance. He spurred his mount and rode toward the tail end of the detachment, behind the supply wagon. He needed a distraction and to get his thoughts in order. Now was not the time to bother Edelgard, especially not with her children around, so Ferdinand and Constance would have to do.
"Oh." Constance's sad voice reached his ears. "The lord of shadows honors us with his presence, does Lady Edelgard need the presence of my illustrious lord husband?"
"Constance, Ferdinand," Hubert nodded to them.
"Hubert. I see we have stopped again. What was it this time, a wheel from the queen's wheelhouse?" asked Ferdinand with a gallant smile.
"I hope they're just having a mass bath. I almost regret not going with Lord Stark through the Dragon Gate."
"A fatal mistake on our part, if I may say so," expressed Constance, who was not even trying to disguise her nausea, perhaps the result of the personality that dominated her at that moment.
"I always enjoy our conversations, Hubert, but my instinct tells me you didn't come here to chat."
"Always so insightful. No, I was coming to ask you if you noticed anything unusual about Lord Stannis the last time you saw him," Hubert said, not mincing words.
"No, no more than usual" said Ferdinand. Hubert knew Ferdinand could be inquisitive when he wanted to be, but it wasn't something that came naturally to him. "Why, do you think he suspects something?"
"It was just precaution. Any slightest mistake could be fatal."
"Do the children know yet?" asked Constance. "The impetus and curiosity of youth is present in them. Sooner or later they will find out."
"Better later than sooner, for their sake and ours. They're good kids, it's not in their best interest to get involved in all this at the moment" replied Hubert.
"Tell me, Hubert, haven't you ever considered that there might be other options? I'm not going to get into a debate about this now, my commitment is absolute, but sometimes I get the feeling that we might be missing something" said Ferdinand, thoughtfully.
"Like what?"
"I don't know. For example, in Fodlan I can guarantee you that none of us had any idea what you and Edelgard were planning. When you told us, everything fell into place, all the evidence was there in front of us. But at the time we didn't know how to see it. I don't want something like that to happen to us again."
"In the Abyss something similar happened with Aelfric. He was using us from the beginning, but we were too blind to see it" added Constance.
"Great achievements don't come without risk. I haven't asked you, but... I assume you'll be able to fulfill your role, right, Ferdinand?" said Hubert, without a trace of doubt.
"Of course, no doubt about that" replied Ferdinand proudly and somewhat offended by Hubert's question. "Are you sure there will even be a tournament? At the moment I have heard no rumor that the king is planning a new tournament, let alone so soon since the last one."
"There will be one," Hubert affirmed. If there was one thing he had no doubt about, it was King Robert's predictable stupidity. "Robert throws tournaments and parties at every opportunity he gets - what better occasion than the appointment of his best friend as Hand of the King?"
"I deeply regret to contradict you Hubert, but, even if there is one, it is not certain that the prizes will be as exorbitant as you suggest. If my calculations do not fail, and I fear they do not, the crown does not have the funds for it, not remotely. Least of all without funding from the Central Bank," Constance said.
"Littlefinger will manage to find the money. The king will not be without his tournament. Tywin Lannister, Mace Tyrell...someone will bring gold to this nonsense. I'll bet Lord Stark is discussing it with the Council right now." Ferdinand let out a laugh.
"My friend, sometimes you frighten me."
"Then I'm doing my job well. Don't worry, Ferdinand. After so many long years preparing for it, the time is finally approaching."
"The end of our journey..." said Constance. "It seems like only yesterday that we arrived in this world, and look at us now... How quickly time passes, how fleeting we are..."
"It's not the end, not even close" replied Hubert, long accustomed to the second personality of Nuvelle's scion. "The road ahead of us is long and winding, fraught with peril. But with a glorious destination."