- The 298th year, Southeast of Harrenhal -
Steffon silently glades through the dense, forest. His cloak billows softly in the crisp, air, and his keen eyes scan the terrain. The scent of damp earth and pine fills his lungs as he crouches near a fallen log, his breath barely visible in the morning chill.
Not alone. His hunting hound, Herold, a massive bloodhound with a brown coat, sniffs the ground beside him. Suddenly, Herold's ears perk up, and Steffon follows the hound's gaze to a clearing up ahead. Through the tangled branches, he spots movement—a stag, majestic and proud, its antlers glistening with dew.
With practiced precision, Steffon readies his bow, the tension in the string a familiar comfort. He draws a deep breath, steadying himself, and narrows his focus. In this moment, all is still, as if the forest itself is holding its breath.
Just as the stag raises its head, sensing the impending danger, Steffon releases the arrow. It soars through the air, finding its mark with a swift, silent efficiency. The stag staggered and then fell, Herold ran to its side, ensuring the kill was clean.
Steffon approaches his quarry, a sense of respect and gratitude filling him. He whispers a quiet prayer to the gods, thanking them for the bounty and for the skills that have served him well. As he begins to dress the stag, the rays of sunlight break through the canopy, casting a golden hue over the scene.
With the stag secured, Steffon and his hound make their way back to Harrenhal, the weight of the hunt both a physical and metaphorical reminder of the balance between man and nature, duty and honor. The forest returns to its natural rhythms, but the memory of the hunt lingers, a testament to the bond between hunter and land.
Or so that's what Jerard, the kennel master said.
His grandmother usually doesn't like him hunting alone, "I'm not alone, I have Herold." he had said once, and he knows his woods better than anyone.
His horse trekked along the edges of the Gods Eye, the towering keeps of Kingspyre and Maiden's Tower (the new name from the older Widow's Tower) coming into view.
Harrenhal, the once-mighty fortress, is now a thriving town within its immense, ancient walls. Though it is still scarred by fire and war of centuries passed it now stands resolute with lively streets.
Market stalls line the courtyards, merchants hawking their wares—fresh produce, finely crafted goods, and exotic spices.
Much of Harrentown was dismantled (the newer settlers were convinced to move into Harrenhal), the buildings torn and reused on some of the ramparts and gate towers, the land was starting to return to a more natural state and perhaps in ten years, he could start growing crops.
His grandmother's husband, Aegon Frey had the idea to make further use of the Gods Eye's connection to the Blackwater Rush, ferries of goods and people come up and down every few days, and fish and timber are traded throughout the Riverlands.
Stopping a moment and breathed in the fresh air, filled with the sounds of bartering, laughter, and the clinking of coins.
Children play in the shadow of the two towers, their laughter echoing off the stone walls. They chase each other through the ruins as he used to. The Ben's forge burns brightly, the rhythmic hammering a constant backdrop to the town's daily life.
Steffon Whent, the young lord, rides through, greeting the people, from the weaver at her loom to the innkeeper preparing for the evening rush. "A good hunt, milord?" asked Jasper, one of the garrison captains.
"The Warrior offers a great bounty, Jasper." he said and dismounted his horse, "Where's my Grandmother?" he asked and the man pointed to where the Tower of Dread was.
When three of the five towers were dismantled halfway, they were given new names in honor of the positive change.
The Tower of Dread was renamed Tower of the Mother, its mews serve as living quarters for the three hundred servants that work inside Kingspyre and Maiden's Tower.
The Wailing Tower is now the Tower of the Warrior. It is where the Harrenhal's food is stored (Kingspyre and Maiden's Tower having their own food stores) along with the treasury and where the guards' armory and living quarters are.
The last tower, the Tower of Ghosts was the most ruined but with reused stone and fresh timber it was brought back to be the town sept so is named the Tower of the Seven.
Harrenhal won't be the jewel of the Riverlands in his lifetime, but he could put in the hard work so his children and grandchildren can be proud of this place, and changing the names helped their townsfolk be less afraid of the superstitions that surround Harrenhal over the last three centuries.
Though there certainly is something about this place that walks here in the late hours of the night, the bread maker just the other day swore he saw a burning man dive from the top of the northern watchtower, said it was Black Harren or one of his sons.
A moon before that, some servant girls screamed down the hall of Kingspyre, ranting about shadows following them. Steffon even swore he saw what he described to his grandmother as his late mother, Celia Whent.
Slowly a frown formed on his lips, he only knew what she looked like from what he heard as a boy.
Leaving his game to Weese, the bumbling idiot of an under-steward dragging the stag to the kitchens for supper.
Lady Shella Whent was older, but still observant as she inspected the new servants under her employ, Pia, her favorite companion was by her side with a smile creasing her lips.
Steffon leaned against the door to the room, unnoticed until Pia spotted him and curtsied, "Lord Steffon!"
"Enjoyed your hunt, grandson?" Shella asked and he nodded yes, "You are all dismissed, go on." the wonderful ladies left the room and Steffon's eyes trailed one of the lovelier ones rump as they left. "How was it?"
"Good. I caught a fine stag, going to use the antlers for a helmet."
"Fine, just don't forget your lessons with Tothmure and Ser Willis then the night is yours." she reminded him, saying their house words along with it.
The Night is Ours, words of House Whent.
He considered himself learned enough, Tothmure was an aging Maester hailing from somewhere in the Westerlands. He had no hair and a large grey almost white beard that hung down to his knees.
He used to pull on it when he was young, the man would yelp and call him a beast but now he tows the line as he is the next Lord of Harrenhal.
He is the Lord of Harrenhal, his grandmother intends to step down and give him the reins by his next name day.
After reading on another history lesson, he went to the bear pit now turned into an area where squires, knights, and guards train and hone their skills.
It isn't like the training yards that he's heard House Tarly have but it works. The sounds of swords clanging filled as Steffon Whent trains under the watchful eye of his master-at-arms.
Willis Wode circled Steffon, his eyes sharp. "Again!" he barks, as Steffon attempts a parry. "Your stance is too weak, your grip too loose!" Steffon, sweat dripping down his face despite the cold, grits his teeth and adjusts his stance, determination in his eyes.
Willis demonstrated a precise sword strike, the blade cutting through the air with deadly grace. Steffon watches intently, then mimics the move, his muscles straining but his spirit unyielding.
Willis often pushed Steffon to his limits, correcting every flaw, and praising every improvement, however small.
Usually, the knight used a Morningstar, even Steffon preferred a glaive or pike and a riverman's longbow when at range but Willis says a knight should be proficient with any weapon for any situation, and living in the Riverlands will give any such situation.
The knight had once said that such rigorous training is the crucible in which Steffon Whent will be forged into a knight worthy of his house and his family's legacy.
"You are doing well, still an arse,"
Steffon grew heated, "I am going to be your Lord by the next year, might want to stop calling me that."
Willis laughed, "Hard truths cut deep but have meaning. You will be my Lord, aye, but you will still be an arse." his frown became a smile, Steffon chuckled and bowed ending the day as dusk started to see on his home.
The family and close household such as Tothmure, Pia, and Willis ate dinner. Venison from the stag he caught, some fish and potatoes with a little cheese and bread.
The wine was the best part, Arbor Gold, he would often import it fresh and right at the height of the summer season.
Ser Aegon Frey joined them as is his right, being his grandmother's husband. He sat on her left and a few of his kin staying at Harrenhal sat on his own left.
Ser Aegon is a grim and soft-spoken man, is gentlemanly to his grandmother so he has no scruples on him.
At least a dozen Freys litter the two towers. Lady Amerei Frey and her husband, Ser Pate of the Blue Fork who also became part of the household guard. Amerei was attractive, her gold hair and full breast were pleasant to look at.
Ser Pate is brave, eager to get some glory, and likes his wife if not loves her.
Amerei's sisters, Walda and Marissa also stay here as ladies in waiting for his grandmother. Their little brother, 'Little' Walder also lives here as a page.
Martyn Shawney sat by Steffon, one of the few close friends he has, and on his right was Lewys Piper, second son of Lord Clement Piper of Pinkmaiden.
When he was legitmised, he had many friends but it wasn't long before he figured out that they thought little of him, 'An up-jumped bastard? How could he be made the second most powerful Lord in the Riverlands'.
It was humiliating back then, now, he cares not.
"I hear the King is hosting a tourney in King's Landing," Amerei mentioned excitedly.
"For Crown Prince Joffrey's twelfth name day, I recall. The feasts are bound to be exquisite." 'Fat' Walda chimed and Martyn sniggered quietly.
Steffon tapped his fork into the juicy tender meat as his ears perked up when Ser Pate spoke up. "I hear the prize is a small fortune, three thousand gold dragons."
"Then perhaps we should compete, the gold could go a long way in building this town to greatness."
Some agreed, others like his grandmother disapproved but Steffon could smell a win for House Whent so a few days later, he, Ser Pate, his friends, dog, and some thirty retainers and his grandmother left Harrenhal on a trip to King's Landing.
Steffon, eager to take part would play the role of Ser Pate's squire while Ser Willis and Ser Aegon remained to take care of Harrenhal.
