United we Stand – Divided we Fall : The Vale

Volume II Chapter 5

The Vale – New position

Hello, dear readers. I updated the name to United we Stand – Divided we Fall : The Vale as it is the region where most of this story will happen and to underline the break with Volume I.

There will be a third Volume in another former Kingdom of Westeros … I let you find in which one!

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Updated 23th August for minor corrections.

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Characters:

Lucas (alias Benjamin before dying) : born in 189, 11 nameday, soon 12.

Mina: 14 years old

Oly/Captain Hook: unknown, 35 presumably

Old Anchor, 201 A.C., first moon, first fortnight Winter, evening Old Anchor's village

Knock, knock, knock.

Lucas went to the door of their small home, pushing gently but firmly the barking puppy that Mina had brought home three weeks ago after helping a woman give birth. The family had a bitch that gave birth to two puppies at the same time. The family had kept one and the second was given to Mina. It was black with a white line that went from the muzzle to its back and Mina had named it Brush after Lucas had joked that it had been painted white from head to toe, or in this case, from snout to tail.

"Go away, Brush."

The pup was still small, but Lucas knew from experience that dogs where best trained from the earlier age.

They had been eating a chicken soup. The day had been uneventful and the weather cold but supportable. Mina, the Captain and Lucas enjoyed this part of the day most, when the workday was over with the sensation of work well done.

The peace of mind as well as the feeling of security were two sensations they hadn't ever been able to enjoy before.

But it seems this evening, they wouldn't enjoy it, he. thought

"Who is it" asked Mina's brother before even opening the door.

"My name is Walerand. I'm the master builder of Lord Melcolm."

Lucas turned his head a bit, asking through his furrowed brows if his sister or the Captain had any idea who the man was and why he would come knocking so late to their door. The Captain nodded. Lucas opened the door slightly. It went as far as the small chain he and the Captain had set up allowed.

Lucas looked outside quickly for several heartbeats, asserting that this was nothing nefarious.

"One sec' please."

Before Walerand could ask what he meant, Lucas closed the door up, removed the small chain and reopened the door. He gestured to the man to enter. Once the man had passed the threshold, Lucas closed the door and put the security back into place.

The Captain welcomed Walerand and offered him a mug of beer which was gladly accepted, as well as a bowl of fish soup.

Walerand was a man of approximately thirty or thirty-five nameday. He wasn't tall and had a slightly muscular build. He had brown hairs except around the temple where it was grey.

"Ah, your famous fish soup, or garum as you name it, that you sell on the market. I have to confess, I have wanted to try it for a long time."

Walerand quickly ate the warm soup, which he seemed to appreciate.

After both men had sat for several heartbeats in silence, Walerand using the time to observe his surroundings, the Captain calmly asked:

"What can I do for you, master Walerand?"

The master builder focused on the Captain. He took his time to answer, pondering his words.

"I came here to offer you and your family with a very beneficial offer. A mutual beneficial offer."

The Captain stood silent and his weathered face didn't offer any kind of support. Walerand seemed to understand immediately what kind of man the shipwright was as he changed his approach.

"I have need of someone to help me in my work. A lettered person. He would be in charge, mainly, of noting down what I tell him, controlling that my orders are followed and our supply suffice, first off. I would like to offer your son this position as I heard he knows how to read and count and has his head screwed on right."

The Captain remained silent, not letting Walerand out of his sight. The silence stretched. Finally, the Captain looked down at his mug, swirling his drink slowly.

"Mmh"

Captain Hook's face was unreadable. Even for Lucas. He had seen him doing so when they had sold the last boat they had built to fishermen. His 'poker face' as he had called it. One more odd expression of his that he had tried to explain later to Mina.

Oly's tactic was to say the least and look unsatisfied. It generally led the other person to give a better offer or, in this case, explain further.

"Your son will earn half a stag a moon and I'll teach him everything I know about buildings. He will get more responsibilities with time. Whether he wants to become a master builder like me or do something else, he can chose later."

Lucas wasn't again the idea of learning something new – in fact, he yearned to discover a new field. For five years, he hadn't read something new. But after their previous experience in the Westerlands, at Banefort, Deep Den and the Spear, he wasn't really looking forward to splitting up again with Mina and the Captain. Besides, he was learning from the Captain how to build, repair or improve boats – and the Captain was very talented with anything related to boats and fishing.

"We both know someone who knows how to read and count is worth more than half a stag a moon. Besides, he brings in more than that in ten days. Your offer is appreciated, however." The Captain didn't sound excited by Walerand offer either. But he was careful to stay respectful of the man.

The master builder eyes seemed to flash in the lightly lit room. He didn't seem offended at the rebuttal, on the contrary. He looked as if he had been expecting this.

Besides, the Captain was telling the truth. They were making good for their investments in the warehouse, a building located in the shipyard they used to store salted fish, the salt they bought, for building boats as well as other activities like preparing the fish soup and other projects Lucas had. They created a facility to store, smoke and preserve the fish they caught. Moreover, they had built two fishing boats in sixteen moons: one for them and one for two fishermen who had lost their embarcation to the winter's weather. A third boat had been built for the harbormaster.

Mina and Lucas were both working hard every day with the Captain. The hardships they had gone through had united them like few things could. They also knew what it meant to be penniless. As such, they weren't allowing themselves any luxuries.

From the ten golden dragon that Lord Stackspear in the Westerlands had paid them – he still owed them ninety dragons! – they had spent more than nine already, but their investments were beginning to pay and they had already earned a bit more than four dragons – which was more than most family earned in over a decade.

"What would you like in exchange, then?"

Lucas didn't like one bit to be spoken as if he wasn't standing just there and able to decide for himself. But sadly, to westerosis' culture, sons would do what fathers decided.

The Captain was silent once more. He looked at Lucas after a while who moved his head from left to right. Then to Mina who, on the contrary, was nodding and motioning to ask for five stags a moon – an unheard amount for someone who wasn't a master of his field.

"Five days of work for you and two with me, non-negotiable. Five stags a moon and privileged access to the forest for my shipwright activities."

To his credit, Walerand didn't storm out. He merely lifted an eyebrow and simply answered: "We both know you are making a ridiculous demand. Two stags a moon and no guarantee regarding the access to Lord Melcolm's forest."

Lucas' head went from Oly to Walerand in the tennis like crossfire. Both men knew how to haggle and were enjoying it.

Only the future would tell if this was at his expenses.

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Several days later

Lucas wasn't convinced that the Captain and Mina were right. In fact, he would have preferred they turn down Walerand's offer, end of the story. Each time they had worked for someone else, it ended to be disappointing, or outright nefarious.

Add to this that Lucas still avoided to speak to anyone due to his accent of the Iron Islands… so far from Blacktyde, there were less chance of someone recognising it, but Old Anchor was a harbour. So, he didn't want to take risks pointlessly.

"Hurry up, Lucas, or we are going to be late!"

Mina was now ten and four nameday. She had grown-up and it would be very hard now to hide she was a woman, as they did sometimes in the past years. But if she had changed physically, she hadn't changed her habit of taking care of him and Oly. She had become known as a gifted midwife and this had led to the villagers – or most of them at least - treating them with more respect than before.

But they were aware that several rumours were spreading about Mina's activity as a midwife, as well as about their successful activities too. First the ships of high quality that they were able to build, despite the cold, in record time. Then the fish soup, which was a culinary speciality of the Iron Islands, that they were selling for a reasonable price but still making a profit over.

In less than two years, they had gone from shipwrecked persons to successful craftsmen (or woman in Mina's case).

It was one of the reasons why Mina had recommended that Lucas should accept working for Walerand. Even if he wouldn't be part of Lord Melcom's household, working for his master builder would give them a certain protection.

The blacksmith as well as the carpenter and some fishermen had made clear they didn't like them. The fishermen because Oly was a very good fisherman and some were jealous. The carpenter because they didn't require his help for building boats and the blacksmith for some unclear reason. So far, only the blacksmith's opposition was annoying.

As the Captain and Lucas didn't like depending upon the blacksmith's goodwill, they had put a very simple smithy in place in a part of the warehouse for upkeeping their tools. Oly's stay at Red Town in the Westerlands had let him learn some basic skills. It wasn't perfect but they made do like this for the time being. As a result, however, the blacksmith had become even more unfriendly.

The fact he would be paid three stags a moon and still have two days free a week (or what would be called a week on Earth) to continue with his own projects didn't hurt either.

After their many bad experiences in the Westerlands, Lucas still had doubt about working for anyone related to a highborn, however.

The Captain had been able to negotiate not only a good salary, but had gone so far as having Lucas be paid with actual salt, which helped secure their provision of supply. That and what Lucas called a "premium" access to House Melcolm's forests – it was the reason why the three of them were smartly dressed (or what went as such for smallfolk) and heading towards Old Anchor's castle where they were to meet the steward, a man named Wayne and of good renown.

The wind was blowing in their faces as they went westwards – it was the coldest part of the small town for a good reason as it stood on the northern side of the small hill facing the castle that stood a bit more inland.

The group of three went down the pathway that led to a medium sized bridge with a small gatehouse that closed off the access to the southern bank. It was guarded by three men-at-arms. The Casley river that was running here separated the harbour from the castle itself. An affluent of the Casley was running alongside the western side of the castle, protecting its side from attack. Long ago, a second battlement with crenels had run along the river and its affluent, surrounding the first battlement. It had been destroyed in a war between House Melcolm and House Hunter and never rebuilt. The wall's footing along the two rivers and the small restored gatehouse were the only vestige of this second battlement that had made of Old Anchor a powerful fortress.

The guards looked without much interest at them – the town was small enough that everybody knew, at least by sight everyone, and the guards had probably been foretold of their crossing. Lucas was pitying them. To stand guard in the middle of winter had to be some kind of punishment, he mused. Or fresher's initiation.

As they neared the drawbridge before the main gatehouse, hail began to rain. They ran to the gatehouse where two other guards were stationed behind the portcullis.

"Lovely weather to be outside, isn't it?" asked one of the guards. His eyes were the only part of his face visible.

"Makes you wish you had sailed to Dorne" answered his comrade, a lanky brown-haired young man, who looked to suffer more from the cold.

"Aye, but then you would miss honour." The first guard spat on the floor, in disgust at the mention of Westeros' most meridional region.

Daeron the First's murder under a peace banner had permanently damaged Dorne's reputation. Even though it happened almost thirty years ago, Dorne was never mentioned without their deviousness and lack of honour. In a culture where one's action reflected on his family for generations, to break a parley was akin to blasphemy.

Neither Oly, nor Mina or Lucas voiced their thoughts. It just didn't feel wise to discuss politics in their situation.

It was the second time Captain Hook entered the castle – the first time was when Lord Melcolm had thanked him for his help in fighting with his uncle and helped return his body to his ancestral home.

For Mina and Lucas, however, it was their first time. A such, they looked around the bailey – as much as the hail allowed it. They waited until the hail stopped and crossed the open space before entering the gatehouse to the fortress itself. The building was even more massive.

Lucas was not able to take in the castle as much as he would have liked. The main square keep was impressive, as were the smaller circular flanking towers, the stable and what looked like the armoury*. However, even if the castle was in good shape, there were signs that pointed towards much needed repairs. But those would have to wait for the spring to begin, he mused. And money.

Walerand was waiting for them in the embrasure of a small building made of stone and wood that stood between the main square keep and the stables. He waved to them.

"May the seven bless you." His smile seemed genuine and Oly answered in kind before the master builder led them to the second floor where the steward's office was situated. He rapped at the door and entered shortly afterwards.

The room was big if one used Westeros' standards. Lucas knew thanks to Mina that Wayne came from Runestone and, contrary to customs, was a commoner. For this man to get such an office spoke of Lord Fearon's esteem for his steward.

It was sparsely decorated. A fire was burning merrily in the hearth and helped light up the office.

The four visitors stood in front of Wayne's desk – the only free chair was set aside. The desk held four stacks of parchments, three unlit candles, an inkwell and a quill. The blond man was chubby. He didn't make them wait to establish his authority, contrary to what Lucas had been expecting.

"Ah, master Walerand, it's good to see you."

Pleasantries were exchanged and soon, the master builder detailed to the steward the requests made by Captain Hook regarding the number of trunks he would like to be allowed to buy from Lord Melcolm every year, for as long as Lucas worked for master Walerand.

The steward listened with care before speaking.

"Don't take it wrong, but I don't see why House Melcolm should give you special treatment. Thirty trunks, that's something."

Walerand had said that the steward would probably ask for something in exchange. As such, they were ready to haggle.

"What would please House Melcolm, master steward?"

Wayne took his time before answering to the master builder. "You have make quite an impression, Captain, since your arrival. Your success in the shipyard and with the 'garum' - as you call it, I believe? Yes? – it draws some questions."

The Captain visibly tensed and kept his head bowed, as did Lucas and Mina.

"If it wasn't for the letter to Lord Fearon, I would have thought you came from Braavos' shipyard. Their skills when it comes to building boats are well known and it would explain this exotic dish. It might have been a reason why your children can read, count and write. But no, Ser Dameron testified that you joined the Brothers' train before Riverrun. I have several theories… but now, I would like to hear your story from your own mouth."

Lucas, Mina and Captain felt trapped. Their worse fear came true as they had no choice but to either lie or tell the truth. Lying was always more difficult and generally, truth became known sooner or later. Punishment for lying in Westeros was … vicious.

The Captain wasn't used to speak to persons of authority. When he was a thrall, the ironmen he belonged too weren't powerful men. Just men who abused the tiny bit of power they had. But here, in front of Lord Fearon's steward, he felt out clumsy, like a fish out of water. Like he had felt at Drymoat in front of Lord Adderley.

He looked quickly at Lucas and Mina. It was the latter encouraging smile that gave him the strength to answer with partial truth.

"I was born in the Riverlands. Ironmen snatched me when I was a young man. I was a thrall for many years before I escaped with my two children to the Westerlands."

The steward considered his answer.

"A thrall, then. I wasn't aware Ironmen taught the children how to read, however."

"Their mother taught them."

"Since when do thralls have children?"

"I… that is… valued craftsmen are sometimes rewarded." The Captain answers were a bit stuttered. Lucas and Mina were hoping the steward wouldn't insist too much.

"On which island were you taken?"

"Orkmont first, Blacktyde later."

"Mmh." For several heartbeats, the steward pondered.

"And what happened after your escape?"

"We worked in the Westerlands." The Captain didn't want to say too much about it. Too much bad memories. And worse.

"What happened. Skilled craftsmen don't cross half of Westeros on a whim."

The questions were beginning to come too close to what happened at Deep Den and the Spear.

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Later, in Lord Fearon's solar

"So, a former thrall and his children then. And Lord Lauros put them to work in one of his famous mines before they escaped?"

Lord Fearon was sitting with a tankard of ale in his right hand, listening to Wayne.

His steward was enjoying his tankard while the head of House Melcolm mulled over what he had just learned.

"I had the misfortune to become acquainted with Lord Lauros Lydden when I travelled to the Reach with the second batch of levies and the supplies. That man isn't worth a shit and him endorsing forced labour would not surprise me. He would sell his own mother if it benefited him. It doesn't surprise me that he would put the blame for his short sightedness on somebody else. I remember very distinctly that he wanted to take as many hostages as possible during the Blackfyre Rebellion. He lost dozens of men and his master-at-arms, a skilled and good man, in a nonsensical raid."

Wayne waited silently, knowing his friend – because that was what they were when it was only the two of them – was considering what he had learned.

"We should use this to our benefit. They will be grateful if we treat them correctly and offer them a chance to leave peacefully. They will be worried about us knowing the truth and it will kept them in line. Even if so far, they seem to be good people. Keep an eye on them. I take it you had master Walerand swear not to utter a word about this?"

"Indeed, I did. I know him and it is to his advantage too that this stays between us. But sooner or later, people will hear the boy speak. The sailors will recognize his accent."

Fearon looked at him intently.

"Had I known they came from Blacktyde, I'm not sure I would have granted them to stay in Old Anchor."

Wayne looked at his friend very seriously. Despite Fearon being of a social standing far higher than the steward, the Lord of House Melcolm felt like a chided child again under his friend's stare. Wayne had never understood from where Fearon's slight xenophobia came. It wasn't the different religion – he had made friends at Runestone and Wayne himself was following the Old Gods.

"I doubt that as a previous thrall, the man holds any loyalty towards House Blacktyde or any other Lord from those wretched islands. As for the children, they were too young."

"They could be spies" he tried to argue. But even, to his ears, it sounded unbelievable.

"And what would they spy on, Fearon?"

"They may not come from the Iron Island. Maybe they are in fact from Essos. Or they could be part of one those slavers that sometimes prey upon our coast."

"I had the lad speak. He definitively has an accent from the Iron Islands – it explains why he avoided speaking so far. Besides, posing as a thrall would not be very clever, I believe. As a merchant, yes. But as escapees from Westeros' most hated islands…"

Fearon stopped arguing. He had to acknowledge that his fears were not making sense.

"What agreement was reached?"

Wayne made no comment on the change of topic and drank a bit before answering.

Never, in his wildest dream, Wayne would have imagined that one day, the Lord of an ancient House would trust him to struck deals – even if only economical ones. The Gods had really granted him more than he could have hoped.

"The lad will work four days for master Walerand, two for me and the seventh to his leisure."

Fearon didn't comment on the seven days cycle, but it seemed to reassure him.

"And regarding the man?"

"He accepted to oversee the upkeep and improvement of your war galley, as well as help design and build a new one when spring comes. He suggested we build several longships styled ships to act as scouts, couriers or reserves. He can work on at least two with the wood his still has and he agreed to train two shipbuilders as well as help train the future crew how to best use the longships. In return, he will be paid as a master shipwright and will be allowed to choose twenty-five trunks a year that he will pay for like any other commoner, the wood needed for the war galley and the longships excluded."

"Mmh." Fearon pondered the deal. It made sense. They lacked ships to watch the coast and repel any attack from pirates or slavers. For decades, the Stepstones were being used as the rear base of those outlaws. His uncle had not come back from the Rebellion empty handed. He had captured several high-born knights who had been ransomed. When winter began, Old Anchor's treasury had been fuller than it had been in decades. Fearon was planning to use the money to restore his castle and rebuild at least one war galley. Longships would be a boon and not too expensive comparatively.

For several years, the number of attacks had been increasing. Last summer, two of his – admittedly old - war galleys had been sunk and the third badly damaged in a raid on Old Anchor that was barely repelled. Had it not been the case, with his uncle and most of the men able to fight in the Reach, the city would have been sacked. Rebuilding a naval force and improving the city's defences had been one of his uncle's priorities but he had lacked the money and manpower for this so far. Now, he had the coin. But he lacked in learnt men. Having this Lucas trained, as well as two more shipwrights and more sailors could turn to be a good thing.

"Longships would indeed be cheaper. Having at least a pair alongside the war galley for spring would be wise" added his steward, echoing his own thoughts.

"So mote it be, then." Fearon sighed. "In the meantime, I'll try to learn what happened exactly in the Westerlands. Lord Lauros might be a despicable man, but he has a sixth sense when it comes to detect opportunities. I'll discover what he saw in the thrall and his two children. Who knows…"

After several heartbeats of silence, Wayne asked another question.

"When do you want to start recruiting new guards? Ser Condon would like to start as soon as possible. Springs and clansmen attacks often go together."

Ser Corin Condon, the master-at-arms, frequently asked for more men and means.

"Tell him he can start with … thirty men. He can choose later which one are made for this. The ones he deems unfit could turn useful elsewhere. Old Anchor lacks able-bodied men since the Plague hit us. Inciting second or third son from the land to live here will turn useful on way or the other."

After a lull in the conversation, Wayne decided a change of topic was in order.

"Did Ser Templeton agree on the marriage with his younger sister?"

Fearon Melcolm was having difficulties finding a new spouse. His House wasn't the powerhouse it had once been. He wasn't meant to become Head of House and had not been taught how to lead a lordly House before his uncle decided to name him his heir.

His wife had died on her birthing bed with their unborn child. His daughter, Julia, was looking every day more like her.

During the Blackfire Rebellion, after spending the first two moons at Old Anchor, Fearon had been put in charge of the logistic for the men, food and weapons sent from the Vale – a task most highborn would scoff at. His efficiency had however earned him Lord Donnel's respect - but more than one vassal's disdain.

Fearon hadn't fought alongside his overlord, Lord Donnel Arryn, like a true knight should. That was the mindset of many a Lord.

Unlike most other nobles, he hadn't taken part in the vanguard that charged at Daemon's force. He hadn't been made a prisoner, alongside Ser Gwayne Corbray, member of the Kingsguard. Thus, many a lord of the Vale believed him unworthy.

But his efficiency in organising the trains of food, weapons and newly trained levies had been noted by Lord Arryn.

It had not escaped Lord Arryn that Fearon hadn't found a new bride since his Royce's spouse died on her birthing bed, together with the babe.

Lord Donnel had suggested through a written message that he could marry the eighteen nameday old Lady Loreen of House Templeton. Fearon knew that such a suggestion from his liege Lord should be understood as a polite order. Ser Templeton's sister had lost the usage of her eyes after an accident during her childhood. No Lord worthy enough in Ser Funkel eyes had asked for her hand so far. Not that many had in the first place. Lady Loreen blindness made her a damaged good, useless in their eyes as a Lady – except for siring an heir.

House Templeton was a powerful knightly family, sworn directly to House Arryn, but only a knightly family nonetheless. To bes ure, even though their lands weren't the biggest, nor the more fertile, House Templeton had been expanding for several decades. The previous Templeton knight had died at the Battle of the Redgrass Field, slain by Daemon Blackfyre himself. The Templeton's family wasn't, however, a lordly House – even if it was more powerful that some. As such, marrying the sister of the Ser Templeton was socially not a success.

Last fortnight, Fearon had written to the Knight of Ninestars with whom he had shared several conversations after the Rebellion. They had not overly bonded, but Fearon respected the man for his values and his cunning. Was it because Funkel Templeton saw something interesting in Fearon or because he wanted to give his sister a long-overdue marriage? Fearon wasn't sure. But he had answered positively and offered a generous dowry for his sister's hand.

"He is indeed open to the idea."

His friend beamed at him.

"Lady Glenda will be most delighted to learn she will soon have a new daughter-in-law. And I'm sure a motherly figure can only be good for your daughter too!"

The Lord of Old Anchor shot him a half-hearted warning look. His mother, who was still living in the castle, had not been tactful about her desire to be a grandmother and she was pestering her son to marry as soon as possible.

"I believe this call for a toast!"

"Nothing has been done as yet." It was said with reluctance.

He didn't comment on the fact that technically, he was marrying into a family of lower standing.

Fearon Melcolm felt one side of his mouth lift up when Wayne's left eyebrow shot upwards.

That night, he didn't drink to drown his thoughts. They toasted to the future.

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That's it for today. Last months were spent writing ahead and playing with different scenarii. I hope you will like what is coming.

* Look at Loches' castle in France, built by Foulques III Nerra around 1013 and 1035 A.C.

Read and review! Your feedbacks are really appreciated.

Answer to reviews:

TysonG: thanks for your 2 reviews! Indeed, I stopped developing too many POV and focused on Lucas' POV… as well as on another one that will come back soon and play a major role.

Guest to the United we Stand – Divided we Fall : Interlude 1 : you will find the answer to your question in a future chapter! Thanks for the review!