Dying to Know 2 - (ASoIaF, Qyburn!SI)
234 AC, Arbor
When you look at Arbor, you think that, despite the location between Dorne and the Reach, it was truly living its best life.
Out of all Westeros, I have a feeling Arbor was truly the best place to live, regardless of the year. It was the 'incarnation' of what England and then Great Britain mustered to be for centuries- a large enough island with limited but important resources that could be defended not by armies, but by the sea. A powerful navy was the one that the Redwyne House boasted.
Massive and well-kept. It was also a place where trading was rewarded as the sea was both a kind bringer of needed objects but also a natural border that allowed for a little garrison to exist to fully defend the island. As I took the boat off from Oldtown to Arbor, I had been able to read a few books I had on the city, the culture, and its backstory.
Admittedly, I had a very lacking awareness on what made Arbor so important beyond the naval power they mustered before I started to read. I had a week or so to get ready for the general information regarding Arbor and House Redwyne, with my first understanding being that their primary source of income was also an 'unstable' source.
Wine was the main produced resource, the finest kind of wine at that through the perfect climate to grow grapes. But while the weather was favorable for 90% of the time, it wasn't without reason to believe this wasn't a certain factor.
The weather could also shift due to heat waves from Dorne, turning grapes to raisins and spoiling the income for months to come. Which is why the House Redwyne's second gift was not about their navy, it was their wisdom over their economic efforts.
Being lords withous any lower vassals below them, the various chiefs of House Redwyne didn't have to worry about petty politics crippling their means to have efficient managers to handle taxation. Loyalty was thus assured less on a birthright basis and through a more meritocratic manner.
In fact, as the boat docked at Arbor's main port, I was greeted by a degree of order that left me baffled. There was indeed a hint of chaos, but people moved within a pattern that reminded me of urbanized streets. I could hardly see any beggars around and there seemed to be no poor peasants wandering with ill intentions.
No criminals, no troubles, no... issues. Well, no internal issues at that.
The mighty fleet of the ruling house offered the unemployed a chance to train and be ready to serve as sailors, giving coin to those training and then offering proper jobs in the eventuality of war. By all means, Arbor was in the best shape it could be when compared to Westeros as a whole.
Stepping out of the boat, I let my unsure steps guide me to the path up to where Arbor's castle was. While less prominent than the citadel, the home of House Redwyne was still an impressive fortification that I would love to further study through the books kept within its library. But alas, I wasn't there just to study but to be an educator of sort.
Olenna was supposedly far from being the 'Queen of Thorns', but her attitude towards those Maesters that 'bravely' faced her six years-old self and lost told me that she already had that 'backbone' that made her a rather sharp-witted player in Westeros.
So, I kept a sense of anticipation over the kind of child I was to face. I arrived at the entry point of the keep, and the guards quickly checked my documentation. They all seemed to drop their stance once their leader finished reading the paper I had on me and confirmed I was the new 'sacrifice'.
The stares filled with pity I got from the ensuing walk through the keep's main gates made me wary that I may have to face a rather stern Lord Runceford at first impression, but the man that I found as I finally arrived to the throne room was... well, it was indeed different.
Lord Runceford Redwyn was jovial person and quite open to people he felt he could trust. As he finished the latest debate over the taxes put on some of the Dornish products circulating Arbor's market, he stood up from his chair and walked up to greet me. He shook my hand, mentioned that he had gotten a letter of recommendation from the Citadel over my credentials and that he wished all the best for the task at hand.
This was such a simple interaction, but it was what ensued shortly after as I was given permission to settle my things. One of the knights serving under his personal guard was tasked in guiding me to my room. It was just as big as the one back at Oldtown, but I would say that there was an extra window. More air, more light, it felt... more lively.
The knight, a certain Ser Parrick, was giving me a few 'warnings' in regard to my little charge as I was setting my things in the various cupboards and the lone desk within the room. I merely nodded along his words, keeping my eyes aimed at where I was putting those things when-
"It's that the new Maester?" A squeaky voice interrupted Ser Parrick, causing the knight to go tense and stiff.
Loud, petulant, but sharp and rather 'aware' of her own capacity. I could recognize a mini-Olenna standing at the door before even looking at her. The child had light brown hair with hints of orange, common to all Redwyne family members. Her eyes were a sharp black that were zeroing on my face almost immediately. Her dress was a delicate soft green half-sleeved thing with a tiny hat resting atop her head. A far cry from the Queen of Thorns' usual fashion, but quite the 'first step' into that direction.
Still, I didn't answer at her indirect questioning, merely glancing at her as she frowned right at me.
The first 'battle' had just started and I was already taking steps to counter her assault.
"T-That's indeed Maester Qyburn, Lady Olenna."
Her scowl grew a bit more 'accurate' as if she was 'locking in' on my presence.
"He doesn't look like much."
I didn't reply either, merely standing up and continuing my task. Olenna noticed this lack of 'response' a bit more since she expected something from me. Anything. The child, albeit blessed with 'fire' that will eventually became the thorns to her reputation, was far from subtle or experienced in the act of exerting true power.
Olenna had the basic steps known by natural foundation, but she had no discipline on how to use it. And if I bent my head to her from the very beginning, I would be dooming her chances to grow into a robust individual earlier than she did.
"So, are you going to speak to me, Maester?"
I finally gave her a proper glance and some attention. "Well, it all depend on who I would be speaking to."
Her cheeks puffed in clear irritation, and little Olenna turned to Ser Parrick. The knight looked very awwkard at this turn of events.
"Maester Qyburn, this here is Lady Olenna Redwyne, daughter to Lord Runceford."
...
"Is she?"
"I am!" She snapped, "Are you truly an oaf like the rest? Ser Parrick told you who I am."
"He did. But I was more curious on why he had to be the one doing the introductions and not you, young lady," I argued flatly, showing no interest in regarding her insult. "After all, I expected a degree of simple politeness from the daughter of a Lord that I have been tasked to educate in the fine arts of History, Accounting, and Healing."
My words cut back at Olenna. The girl appeared surprised by my rebuttal, but her face morphed fast to retrieve the barbed expression she had from the moment we started this skirmish.
"W-Well, I do know that."
"Then I fail to see why you sought fit to have Ser Parrick speak on your stead. Is there some sickness preventing you to do so?"
"No, but-"
"Then from now on I expect you to speak for yourself rather than use others for that. Or I may as well have Ser Parrick join our lessons so he can be educated on your stead, young lady."
Instead of a reply, Olenna appeared utterly appalled by my interjection and it got to the point that she just turned and ran away from the confrontation. Ser Parrick and I watched as she rushed fast out of sight, and the man then turned to me with a hint of surprise.
"How?"
"Children are still children. Lady Olenna is advanced compared to her peers, but she is also... still a child," I explained dutifully as I returned to my duties. "With enough pressure, she will be put in the spot to throw a temper tantrum. Hers needs for enough pressure to be put to her 'power stance'. She may have leverage, but she tends to overstate herself out of childish expectations."
"So you just... talked back at her?"
"I talked back at her as a proper teacher should. She may be the daughter of Lord Runceford, but I was assigned to teach her many things, some of which is also good manners. Which she lacks- or rather, wishes to not show to anyone."
Parrick nodded slowly at this, perhaps not grasping everything but understanding just enough to not ask more questions. Nonetheless, this first brawl confirmed my earliest expectation of Lady Olenna.
This thorny little princess is quite a brat.
AN
Olenna in the future:
"Do you even lift, you oaf?"
"Is that even a plan? Or are you just airing out your flatulence for others to 'praise'?"
"My dear Insert Family Member Title, you don't trust the Lannisters. That's non-negotiable."
"Qyburn? Old fool definitely forgot about old me, why should I bother contacting him as he is busy with more brats to nag at?"
