Hope you all are hungry for more juicy chapters cause Big Z's got his grill running hot.
4th Moon, 9th AD (93 BC)
1 day since the Lion's Erring or the Battle Near the Cove
Ralf "the Walker" Salt
Ralf felt out of place. He should not be witnessing such a tender reunion. Princess Liela sobbed as her arms wrapped themselves tightly around her child. She must have thought that she would never see him again. He was still struck by the stupidity of Tommen and Androw. They would have been kinslayers had they ever reached Old Valyria.
The three of them stood alone in the Great Hall of Fair Castle. It was made with the same fine white stone used to construct everything from the hallways to the tall towers. It was quite pleasing to look at, the banners, tapestries and pottery in mostly red, blue and yellow along with the occasional silver accentuated it.
As Floki had predicted yesterday, they were about to dine in the castle of the Lord he slew. Their reavers had been commanded to finish their celebrations early, to keep with their schedule. It was by noon when they departed and by sunset when they arrived. Raven had been sent to the Fair Isle and Casterly Rock, informing them of the tenuous situation they had found themselves in.
For the former their demands were simple. Their remaining ten warships (two were among Tommen's fleet, one of which sunk) were to be docked at port and no man was to be in or near them. The Highborn and knights of Fairisle were to arrive at Fair Castle and surrender their arms immediately. Then there was a feast to be held to celebrate their victory, preferably with chicken.
For the latter, the demands were even more simple. All negotiations of ransom shall be done by raven. The information about the ransoms shall be not shared with anyone other than the Golden Council. Finally, they shall be occupying Fair Isle in the meantime. The fate of the hostages if any of their demands not being met was left…unsaid. The imagination speaks far louder than any ink on parchment.
If they were actually foolish enough to throw away dozens of noble lives then their kingdom would fall. If the Farmans did them harm, they and every other of their vassals on their isle would be slaughtered down to the last man, with their women and children to be taken as thralls. If the Lannister did them harm, then a thousand longships of the Iron Islands shall descend upon them and bring an end to the Clever's line.
Speaking of the hostages, they were to be kept on their longships and guarded at all times. Their food was delivered, their sheets were changed and even their waste was taken away by trusted men. Every action they took from their rousing from and falling to slumber was under constant watch. The ones who behaved were to be given rewards like cakes, walks on the deck and letters from their families. Those that did not were to be punished severely.
King Tommen being the first of them to be made an example. Harwyn had forbidden hi, release from his cell, his waste was not to be taken on time, his food was not to taste good and annoying noises were to be made when he tried to sleep. Why? When Harwyn was in combat with the Lion King he spat on him…that spit ending up in his eye. If there was one thing sacred to Harwyn it was his appearance or his dashing good looks as the vain bastard would say.
By the time they had reached the Fair Harbour (He was beginning to think they put Fair before everyone they owned) it was nearly sunset. The ships were in the harbour, manless as an ugly whore, the nobles would arrive in a few days, the ones who had arrived had already surrendered their weaponry and the feast would begin in a few hours.
Harwyn has barricaded himself on the Hardhand and refuses to come out unless there are no Rockmen in sight. He dare not try to dissuade his cousin again, lest he receive another lecture on building mystique and the importance of his first big introduction to the seven Kingdoms.
Bertie had woken up, walked out of his cabin, sniffed the wind and the first thing he asked was when he could see his mother. The first thing he felt was pride, a true son of the sea always remembers the smell of his home port and the second thing he felt was pure fear as he tried to formulate an answer.
He and Floki were to be Harwyn's shadow on the Isle while his cousin remains unseen and builds "narrative tension". That meant he had a duty to follow orders and not take the boy away from their longships and especially not inside the castle where he could be seized back by the Farmans.
Hell, he himself might be taken as a hostage delivering him to his mother!
Yet, what was duty and even common fucking sense to those big blue dolphin calf eyes? He also took pity on his mother and sent a letter asking her to come to the Feast an hour early so that their "mutual little chipmunk of a friend could introduce us to each other". He had let Bertie scribble a "secret sign" between mother and son to confirm the letter's authentication.
When he had then informed Floki that he would be taking a dozen guards for his little foray into Fair Castle, the man just sighed and said to take a dozen more. His friend can not hide those looks of fond exasperation if he tried. It was almost as if he knew Ralf was going to do something kind and stupid.
Their guide, a maid, must be a trusted confidant if the way Bertie hugged her and the way she smiled as he did so. As she guided them to the Great Hall, along the way he found not a single guard or servant. The Princess must have read between the lines to keep this little liaison quiet. If this was a trap? They kept their hands on their weapons the entire time for a reason, the only creature more dangerous than a concerned mother is a cornered Ironborn.
Bertie on the other hand was regaling him with tales of his daring exploits such as the Battle against the Stranger's Rodent, the Best Nameday Gift to Mother Ever and the Great Cake Heist of Last Month. The maid, Johanna, he came to learn was the Princess's right-hand woman or "bestiest friend ever" according to Bertie. She kept giving him queer looks as she lead them.
When they had arrived he thanked the maid, who was given a big sloppy kiss on the cheek by Bertie. He put the boy down, tightened his hand around his axe and gestured for one of his guards to open the door. They all tensed as the rumbling oaken gates opened, only to reveal not a horde of soldiers as they had feared, but a single woman in a black mourning dress.
"Mother!""Bertie!", was screamed by the pair as they ran to one another. He felt the tension leave his body and as he entered through, he spied Johanna crying with a smile on her face as she looked at the pair. He gestured for his guards to wait outside as he closed the door behind him.
That is how came to his current predicament. The red lips of the Princess of the Rock curved into a smile as she confirmed the health and safety of her son. Said son was wildly describing the time he spent away from his mother (the part about his father's death was described with less enthusiasm).
The enthralling woman was not what he would imagine a Lannister traditionally looks like. She was tall standing at around 5 feet and 11 inches, slender as a waif, pale as snow. Her eyes were an icy green and her long pale blonde hair reaching past her backside.
She listened to her son ramble and looked as if he was spouting the most beautiful of poetry. Her slender fingers constantly touched his face and hair, as if trying to memorise them by the feel of her hands. Her eyes had hardly blinked almost as if she feared to lose sight of him for even a second.
He felt pride in bringing about this beautiful moment. He knew he was not a kind man nor a good man. He had brought fates far worse than he brought to Bertie and what Androw and Tommen brought to Leila to countless others. Yet, he was still a man of flesh and bone and he wished to bring some happiness to this world.
His stomach rumbled, thankfully quietly, and he just remembered his last meal was a small breakfast and then an even smaller luncheon. Well small in comparison to him, he needed to be more than the average man, given his height and physique. He was a year younger than a woman's husband at ten and eight and looked like he entered his second decade. He hoped they had chic…
…Oh, he just realised he did not know what to do now. How was Bertie supposed to sit on the High Table with them? The hostages (and it painted him to think of the boy as such) could not leave the ships. He certainly can not divide them, after all, they just reunited. Even if he joined the feast, there came another problem, he would take the boy back to his ship and his mother would remain here.
Their original plan for the feast was to leave the Lord's seat empty for Harwyn, with the seats on his left and right being filled by him and Floki respectively. The hall being filled with Ironborn with a smattering of uncomfortable Rockmen between them, that would not include hostages.
This would show their disregard for them by their Prince not even deigning to arrive with only his bastard and second son lieutenants representing him. They would show their numerical and quantitative superiority by the dozens of battle-hardened reavers who would switch positions with their brethren in the docks every other night.
All of this in the view of the Rockmen nobility who will spread tales of Ironborn superiority and without any unnecessary risks. Which he had taken so by bringing Bertie here. Princess Liela would have been on the high table next to Floki…yet he did not want to have them to be separated or to be gawked at like peacocks in a menagerie.
He had already ruined a part of the plan and if he did more, Floki was going to kill him… well in for an copper pine, in for a gold ship. He approached the pair of blondes. The Princess looked stricken for a second and then resigned as she saw him, while her son looked back and grinned.
"I thank you for kindness, Lord Ralf, in reuniting Bertie and myself. If you will excuse me, I shall begin preparations for the feast.", she stood and looked ready to leave yet could let her hands and eyes off her child as she spoke to him.
"You may have your dinner with your son privately in my cabin, you can sleep there as well. If you choose to do so, I swear on my mother's life and my father's grave that no harm befall you or your son on my decks or the decks of any of my people.", Bertie jumped up and down in celebration, then continued to so from one table to another.
"Tha- That would be very much appreciated, my Lord.", he chose to ignore the tears of relief in her eyes. He had bigger fish to roast, how many limbs could he escape with when he tried to explain himself to-
"Ser Salt, you come too!", two sets of eyes blinked at one another then blinked at a boy looking very proud of himself then at one another again.
He took a hostage to his castle and gave the lady and princess of said castle leave not to join the feast. There was no chance in the Watery Halls that he risked his life any more than he already was! Harwyn might throw a tantrum if his empty seat's glory had to share more than it already was! It can not happen! Absolutely Not!
He tore his gaze away from the woman and onto her son to tell him.. to tell..he would…
… damn those mother fuckingly adorable eyes.
Maybe he should put in a bronze grape and silver raven as well? Will it stop Floki from chopping him up and dumping into the sea?
No. It would not.
-Line Break-
8 days since the Lion's Erring or the Battle Near the Cove
"ATTENTION! PEOPLE OF FAIR ISLE! AS OF TODAY, THE NEGOTIATIONS WITH THE GOLDEN COUNCIL HAVE FINISHED! IT IS ASSUMED BY THE END OF THIS MONTH THE RANSOMS SHALL BE COLLECTED AND DELIVERED TO OUR PRINCE! A FEAST SHALL BE HELD WITH ALL THE NOBILITY OF THE ROCK AFTER THE DELEG…", a fat man in a red tunic screamed in the city square.
"It seems our dear Newsreader is still as energetic as ever." How the man was still so chubby with all those rapid and intricate hand gestures, arm gestures and full body gestures, he will never know.
"Yes, it is truly a marvellous thing for one to do their duty in this day and age.", Floki must have forgotten who the bastard was, his words were as salty as seawater.
"I have apologised a dozen times already, have I not?", once he even performed one of those kneeling on the knees and the head on the floor apologises like one of those Lengii dogs.
"Feeling Regret and making amends are two separate things.", he was feeling more than just regret, there were still gods damned aches in his lower back from his ass sticking up in the air for so long.
"Then you shall see me make as much as I feel.", Floki eyed him from the side and nodded. They lapsed into a comfortable silence as they rode along the main mud path of Fair Town overlooked by Fair Castle on Fair Island (How original).
For the past week since their arrival, they had allowed the Farmans to rule as if nothing had changed other than the fact that the actual punishment of criminals was no longer done by them. In the city square thieves had their hands chopped off and rapers their cocks by reaver steel. The ones condemned to death were to be brought to his cousin. He would make their screams echo across the night and into the minds of all those of heard it and those who will tell others of it.
Harwyn wished for his name to be spoken only in whispers, to be so feared that instead of his name or title he would be called "You Know Who" and "He Who Must Not Be Named". Personally he found those aspirations to be extremely stupid and he promptly told his cousin about his findings as well. The pouting that followed should not be done by a man grown.
He would only have his most menacing of soldiers bring his commands to the castle and give announcements across the Isle, bar the fat man who everyone just loved to see do what he does best. There would be regular patrols across every corner of the Island and inspections into the homes of smallfolk and highborn alike.
The reavers regularly performed the Valyrian Legionary drilling that has and will break lesser men in view of the greenalnders, quite a few of the lads had caught the eye of local women in such a manner. Not just their exercises but games such as regular horse races, swimming competitions, wrestling matches and much more were publicly conducted. What little hope the Fairmen had for overthrowing them was further broken upon seeing their martial prowess.
Every night, a willing woman was brought to the Hardhand and the come sunrise left with a smile on her face, a limp in her step and a soldier carrying her gifts behind her. Harwyn had a list of whores, ladies, smallfolk and even a triad of fucking septa (One each for the Mother, Maiden and Crone) that he planned to bed. They would last him the month it would take to negotiate, collect and receive the Ironyeild.
They would keep the greenlanders jumpy on their toes by giving bizarre commands. Such as that the fattest man on the Isle was to laugh and dance every other hour or that every third daughter should tell a joke to the fattest man every other hour. His favourite was Androw's pet dolphins getting drunk with puffer fish toxins and thrown into the large pond near the village.
Tales were to spread to every corner of the Island and from there things were to progress naturally. Tales such as Harwyn's third eye being the reason that he knew of the attack, his tactics thoroughly out manoeuvring Tommen, his daring in facing a King of the Rock, his skill in being able to defeat one of the greatest knights in the Seven Kingdoms.
His past deeds were also to be told in hearing of the locals a thousand times over. The third son of the Iron King who rowed at five across the Stepping Stones, reaved at ten across the Cinnamon Straits. At four and ten Harwyn had sailed as far as Qarth, fought in half a hundred battles and had been the lover of a dozen royal women from Queen Dowagers to Maiden Princess.
At ten and five, he avenged the death of his uncle and Ralf's father at the hands of the rebel Shogun of Leng, Minamoto Musashi. He emerged from the fight covering head to heel in blood with his severed head in his left hand and his foe's Valyrian Steel Odachi in the other. The sword that would go on to be reforged into Gram the Singing Sword.
"The people seem happy at the thought of our rule coming to an end, I can not wait to see their faces when they find out!", more than a few of the smallfolk walked away with a spring in their step after the announcement. He could imagine them tripping face forward onto the floor when the truth was revealed.
"What is your view on the treaty?" Floki slowed down his horse, it seemed this was going to be a long conversation. He was nearly late for his luncheon with Leila and Bertie.
"I was certain that my views were conveyed quite well during the meetings.", an injustice a certain blonde chipmunk still roused his fury. Yet he understood his cousin's reasoning and would support him to the end.
"Indulge me.", Floki looked as grave as an actual grave…yard, a single corpse hole with decorations could not do as comparison for his dearest friend.
"There is precedent for land in exchange for waving away gold in Ironyeilds. We have had enclaves on the mainland since time immemorial.", small outposts from what was a wide spanning realm that now serve as trade hubs for them.
"We used to have at most major coastal villages, maybe a town or two from Brandon's Gift to the Red Mountains. This is the case no more. Two years ago, everything changed when Prince Harlan attacked the North. If only those damned wolves remembered their place was on land!", the horse came to a stop and Floki uncharacteristically snarled in genuine rage.
"If only the Starks did not break the treaty by building warships in the Sunset Sea, despite it being explicitly forbidden to do so, we would not be in this mess! Now King Qhorwyn rules over Cape Kraken, the Stoney Shore, Sea Dragon Point, Bear Island and even a fucking "duty to protect" Westwatch!", that vein looked ready to pop any second now.
"How can you expect sense from a people so arrogant that they would rather claim their fleet was burned by their own King going mad and not by Balon the Burner? Who, I might add, was robbed of his epithet as well. Frozen fools who like to think of themselves as superior specimens.", he knew Floki was venting but those arrogant ice fuckers getting their due was so amusing.
"You are missing my point. The realm of Qhored the Great is being reforged. The Iron Islands under the stewardship of the King have never been more prosperous. The River Lords of the Sunset Sea now owe their fealty to us and not the Durrandons. They pay tribute to us, though it galls them to do so, as not to get raided due to Crown Prince Harrold's manoeuvring. Prince Harlan humbled the North and Harwyn wishes to outdo his brothers, as always, and has ripped out the Lion's claws. What do you think is next?", Floki slumped in his seat, the earlier fire had burned out and now all that remains are the ashes.
"The Reach. King Aethelred's war against the Dornish has been going on for nearly a decade. The Lords of March are about to fall and then it will be the Reach's turn to give those sand fuckers a taste of their medicine. Unless, of course, we, their ancient ally, come to their aid.", Leila enjoys their sour wine, maybe he should get some of the Prince of Dorne's personal collection while he is down in the dunes.
Since the age of Nymeria, the Kings of the Iron Islands and the Princes of Dorne have been in a formal alliance against the Reach. No reaver shall ever raid on Dornish soil and no Dornish Lord shall ever deny a reaver a right to port. They remained ambivalent to their other rivals such as Lannister for us and the Durrandons for them.
For nearly a decade Princess Myriah Martell has all but demanded aid against the Reach, yet their Kingdom has wisely remained at peace. In his youth he had declared it cowardly and oathbreaking, his father had patiently explained (after giving his son a smack on the back of his head for calling his goodbrother a coward) that the treaty simply forbade helping the enemy and it was better for them to bleed each other dry.
Truthfully, he feels no sympathy for the Dornish, how could one do so for a people that forget their culture, even Floki agreed with him and Harwyn on this issue. Whether it was their language, their water magic or even their style of dress, they forgot it all and those like the Orphans who did not, were persecuted for their right to their ancestry.
Princess Nymeria's daughter and granddaughter went on to become slaves to their Andal husbands and her great grandson was an Andal in Rhoynish tanned skin. He wonders if they would have even kept their queer way of succession had the first two of so-called Red Princes had not been women.
"After this is over, I have no doubt the King, goaded by his children, shall rain down on the Gardeners. The sunset sea shall run red with the blood of Gardenmen while the Dornish mount a counter attack and destroy the Marcher Lords. The majority of the Dornish army remains in far superior conditions than the Reach's and they eagerly await for their chance at vengeance. Then from the Pine Forests of Bear Islands to the grape yards of the Arbor and the Rookery of Citadel shall fear the Longships once again.", Floki spread his arms in mockery of their glorious past returning to them and then dropped to this sides with a forlorn sigh.
They resumed their prior pace and travelled silently, Floki had always been a lover of routine, unlike Harwyn's spontaneous nature and his own lack of timekeeping. His father's absence was keenly felt by all his students, even his most grim one, the times of the day when Floki would seethe at Urrigon Greyjoy's teasing were now filled with silence. He would not say it but the Reaper fears for his Harhand and Walker.
He put a hand on his friend's shoulder and though he did not look back he could feel the tenseness leaving them. He was the oldest among them with Floki at ten and seven and Harwyn a year younger, his Queenly aunt had always given hope to her younger brothers and he would do the same to his.
"How will you tell your beloved and your new child the good news.", aaaaand there goes the lovely moment they were having.
"She is not my beloved nor is the chipmunk my child and I shall tell them truthfully and simply. Harwyn swore he would give Bertie a fate more glorious than any Lord of Fair Isle before him and I trust him, wholly. Princess Liela will trust me just the same." if only his nerves agreed with his words, Floki copied his past actions and put his hand on his shoulder.
"You know of my views on the matter, they people whisper of the Princess who spends the day and night in the cabin of her husband's killer and their child who clings to him like a second father. I know you think the Princess cares only for the safety of her child and you may be correct…", he senses a but coming.
"…but her method for doing so may be nefarious. If she does try to seduce you, will it be out of genuine attraction or a fear for her child? She has only been known to you for a week, how can you say you know what lies in her heart?"
"I trust her and sometimes that is all you should do.", he was not some political savant but he did know people and he knew this. Princess Liela may try to seduce him if he gives her reason to believe it necessary, which he will not. He swore an oath to protect Bertie and he shall keep it.
"I just do not wish for you to be heartbroken, Ralf. You were always the kindest among us.", with one last squeeze, he took off to the castle, to the arms of his childhood loves, parchment and ink. While he headed towards the Salt Shaker, where a princess and a little Lordling awaited him. Now…
…how was he supposed to tell a woman they just stole her son's inheritance?
-Line Break-
"- Ser Salt said that I was too little! Mother tells him to let me play!", Ralf gives the boy a look of incredulity as he sips from his crystal goblet, he is mad if he thinks his mother would let him play the finger dance.
"My son is correct, Lord Ralf. You should not refuse him on account of his age.- ", Ralf nearly spits out his wine, while Bertie smirks in triumph. "-You should refuse him on the account of it being a barbaric sport. If he does ask again, then there shall be no desert for him.", the boy whips his head to face his mother, mouth agape at the betrayal.
"Yo-You should listen to your mother, Bertie. It is the same reason I do not play it, I love my chocolate too much and my own mother knows it. That and I like having all ten of my fingers.", honestly he loved the game but it worried his mother half to death and he really did love his chocolate too much.
He takes back all the curses he put on Harwyn's soul for inventing the nectar of the Gods with that angry Summer Islander Chef that kept screaming for some lamb sauce. It was in his fucking hand! Why was he screaming at him?!
How Floki prefers the lesser coffee or as it should be called "evil rat poison", he will never know. By the gods, put some damn milk and sugar in it before your body collapses!
Leila laughed and petted her son's head, "Truly one must thank Prince Harwyn for creating the greatest carrot to any mother's stick.", he looked over to see Bertie had forgotten the argument in favour of some of his chocolate (read: a quarter jar full) between the bread slices.
"My cousin's proclivities have led to everything from crystal being declared the only vessel worthy of alcohol to procuring barrels of giant seed and renting wombs to make half breed warriors. Last I heard the first company is around a year old now.", the woman's face looked like her husband had come back from the grave to strike her again.
He would think the Princess would have gotten used to the madness that surrounded his life in the past week, but it would seem that is not the case. Maybe because they have been quite tame during this past week.
"Speaking of exceptional intelligence, your boy has a remarkably advanced vocabulary for his age.", he honestly reminded him of boys two or three years older than his age with how well spoken he was.
"My Bertie has a gift which I have worked hard to cultivate. I find that men put far too much emphasis on the body and not nearly enough on the mind. My dearest husband and little brother are fine examples." if the cutting words were not any indication her sharp smirk reminded him that there is no love lost between brother and sister.
"I see your wit is as sharp as it is sweet, my Princess.", the woman was honey to her child but a hornet's sting to everyone else.
"Is that so, my Lord? What else have you found in your observations.", Leila barred her fangs like the lioness she was, the skin of a meek kitten had been gradually shed over the week they had spent together.
"I have found much, you are partial to the sourest of Dornish reds, the sweets of cakes and the spiciest of stews. Frankly, how your tongue has not yet been ruined I shall never know.", he had been offered a taste of her meal yesterday (despite Bertie's pleadings not to) and he could not taste the steak he had afterwards.
"I have heard compliments on many of mine features, my tongue has never been one of them.", her husband truly was a boring man, how can one not praise the tongue that was sharper than Gram's and braved fiercer battles than the Grey King?
"I am honoured to be your first then, Princess.", he did a clap to calm his nerves "Now! Our meal is finished and I would like to inform you of a recent development.", not so recent given the fact it was planned for months but she did not need to know that. At her subdued nod, I steeled my nerves.
"The entirety of Fair Isle has been seceded to us by the Rock and it has been decided that it shall be ruled similarly to our other enclaves. The Iron Crown shall appoint courtiers to govern it without it being made into a hereditary fiefdom for said courtiers. Usually, the coasts would simply be taken but Harwyn has decided to attaint the entirety of House Farman.", she nearly formulated a word but he rushed on before she could express her anger.
"I swear on my honour as a descendant of Joyous Davy the Kraken Rider that I tried for Bertie. At the very least for him to inherit his castle but my cousin was adamant, he would be the next Viceroy-Admiral, that is the new title he invented, of Fair and the Golden Enclaves. I made him swear to give Bertie a fate more glorious than any Lord of Fair Isle before in compensation. I am sorry for not doing more.", he shut his mouth and awaited his punishment as soon as he finished his tirade.
…Where were the shrieks declaring him a thief and that he will never see them again? He looked up to see her looking at him without a hint of anger on her face. He did not forget he was dealing with a level headed woman, but there was such a thing as being allowed to rage at having your son's birthright being stripped from him.
"I trust you, Lord Ralf. I know you would not leave my son a beggar, I also know vague promises are for whores and singers. So let us discuss the specifics of my son's so-called glorious future.", thank the gods, Harwyn prepared the specifics for him, he did think he would get so far. If she was giving him a chance he would not squander it.
He straightened his shoulders, took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes "Bertie shall be admitted in the newly created peerage system with my sponsorship. He shall begin at the lowest rank of Magnar and can rise up the ranks to Stadtholder, Patriarch, Sufet and finally Navarch. Naturally each rank up comes with greater benefits than the last.
These peers shall be lower than the traditional Highborn of the Iron Islands yet higher than the smallfolk and the thralls. They shall owe no allegiance to any other than the royal family, be judged in a court by their representatives and be taxed at a lower rate than the smallfolk. However, they do not possess the right to tax, to form armies, or pits and gallows and the Drowned Men and Church of Pearly Wisdom with Harwyn have successfully abolished the Right of First Night.
Each newly made peer or ascending peer shall be granted a reward corresponding to their rank. This can come in the form of coin, estates, plantations, exclusive contracts and more. They in essence shall be similar to the Magisters of the Free Cities but they are forbidden from contracting sellswords even as guards. The royal court shall have a monopoly on the security for the enclaves from the soldiers to town watches to the lowest estate guard.
The method for advancement includes sponsorship, military victories, creation or patronage of the arts, performing incredible deeds, acts of charity and donations to the treasury. Their title can be passed down to their oldest child while the others will gain the rank lower than their parents or in the case of Magnars their unchosen children lose their peerages. If a peer married into nobility he or she shall lose their peerage until the dissolution of the marriage and their children will not inherit their ranks and vice versa.
On the subject of loss of peerage, if sufficient evidence is provided then the royal court has the right to punish the guilty in a justifiable manner. At best the guilty will be given a reprimand and at worst they will be stripped of all their titles, wealth and even their freedom."
He took a moment to catch his breath, he had made Floki practice with him to make sure he would get a single factoid wrong. This did not help in his friend's perception that he was falling for Liela. He was not, how could he love someone he had only known for a week? What does it matter if she is a beautiful princess, wonderful mother and lovely person?
Liela looked completive and drank deeply from the goblet, "Quite ingenious, you keep all the benefits of nobility without any of the drawbacks, the lowest son of whore has the ability to rise higher than anyone other than the royal family. The enclaves need not be given to Lords with their own allegiances but to peers who shall be loyal to you for their position."
She takes another sip before smirking coyly, "The monopoly removes the chance of making an army on a technicality and any reward shall no doubt be lesser than the service provided for it. However, the peers shall be too busy competing with each other to realise this. The Lords themselves will go out of their way to prove their worth."
She places a finger and traces it on her lip absentmindedly and he tries not to stare, "Magnar and Navarch I know of, they are the Old Tongue word for Lord and the Braavosi word for Sealord, yet I do not know the rest."
"Magnar was chosen to show that our lowest peer is equal to any First Men Lord. Stadtholder was an ancient Andal title for their naval commanders, it was chosen as the Andals were the ones to conquer the First Men. Patriarch is a common tongue word, signifying the merger of Andal and First Men culture. Sufet, the title of the Princes of the Rhoyne whose descendants are the only greenlanders we share an alliance with. Navarch was chosen as a challenge against the Bravoosi who possess the greatest navy in the world in terms of quality."
It pained him to admit the last point, they did not have the wealth of Volantis or Yi-Ti to throw into their ships but in terms of quality, their reavers were superior to any of their sailors. How could Bravoos have a location nearly as bad as theirs, a population descended by runaway slaves, exist for a fraction of time compared to them and yet still be superior to them!?
She blinked as if realising something important "Does this mean I am currently speaking not to Ralf Salt but Navarch Ralf Salt?", his smirk must have been really wide for her to have rolled her eyes. Let him have this woman, he was still reeling from feeling of inadequacy.
"I do not wish to gainsay you but how can you be so certain that the Prince will give so much for, and let us be honest here, a mere pet of his cousin.", stop biting your lip women, it was too distracting and he has actually done far more for his actual pet. His deceased goldfish, Captain Bubbly, is currently buried in a solid gold sarcophagus in Castle Hoare.
"The Harwyn I know of is different from the rumours you have heard. My Harwyn keeps a copy of the Poetic Edda, our collection of legends, under his pillow. He falls half in love with every other pretty girl with a beauty spot over her lips. He has a taste for food similar to your own. He is my oldest friend, my cousin and my brot-why is it so quiet?", he could hear the talk of sailors outside, the cawing from that annoying albatross and generally listen to noises from farther than a foot, that could only happen if-
They looked over to see Bertie with his head on the table, letting out little snores and chocolate smeared over his lips, cheeks and nose, then looked back at one another. She cracked first, putting her hand over her mother to muffle her laughter while he deeply breathed in and out, they did not want to wake the boy up. By the time they got themselves under control, they had tears streaming down their cheeks.
I hope you all found it Popeyes Chicken Sandwich Level of good. Please leave a review of what you did or did not like in the chapter. I dearly wish to improve my craft.
I will update every 2 weeks and for those who can't wait I have 2 additional chapters on the site for patrons that must not be named. You can find the link at the end of this:https/forums./threads/hardhand-harwyn-hoare-si.1207412/