Ch. 3 - The Harvest Festival

Kai

§

The harvest festival was upon us quicker than I imagined it would be. Highgarden was surrounded by market stalls and performers and tents. The first morning, my lovely cousins came to see me, and I was all too happy to be their festival escort. I brought them to the pavilions and and we decided to visit the Redwynes first because... well, because they would have the best wine. We sat and drank wine as we waited for Lord Redwyne to arrive, and he promptly gave us more wine, and I ended up drinking... rather more wine than I intended.

That meant that mostly I was content to sit and listen to Cousin Florie talking to Lord Redwyne about the toll on the Rose Road, working to make him sympathetic to our position, to convince him that it was bad for all of the Reach. Between her, and the pretty, smiling support from Ravenka, I do believe Redwyne was thoroughly convinced by the time we left the pavilion.

I wandered the stalls with the girls and eventually settled in to watch a puppet show with Florie. It bored Ravenka and so she went to shop nearby, which meant that I had my lovely cousin sitting very close to me on my cloak while we watched the puppeteers recreate the story of Balarian the Black. It was warm, and I was a little dizzy, and Florie was whispering pleasantly in my ear, and I had a mind to take her somewhere out of the way of prying eyes and kiss her like I've wanted to for months. I was working my way through this plan when a hand landed on my shoulder like some kind of weapon. It was Auntie Odette, looking decidedly chilly. She said she had a job for the two girls. They were to go investigate the hasty marriage of the only child of the Merryweathers of Long Table to a Baratheon boy. Odette shooed me off to go “help” my father and brother.

I found them talking about the tolls, glowering to each other about what it meant and about how it was clear the Baratheons were trying to force Father's hand on this. Neither of them were particularly pleased when I joined the conversation, but I was sobering at this point, and I had a thought. “We could force Lord Caswell into a defensive position,” I suggested. “Make him say he decided to levy the toll for the greater good of the Reach. Then we make certain that he can no longer collect from us or our bannermen. The Baratheons so kindly built us the toll gate, so we might as well use it for our advantage.”

“You'll do anything to avoid a fight, won't you?” Tyrys said, scorn thick in his voice. “Afraid of war, brother?”

I opened my mouth to protest, but my father was smiling. “That is just the sort of thing we need,” he said. “War takes planning and preparation. And we aren't prepared, not right now.” Then he dismissed Tyrys to the yard for his practice and asked me to stay and and discuss the logistics. I didn't miss the dark look my brother gave me as he left. But it serves him right for spending all of his time learning how to get himself killed.

After we finished talking, I found Odette with my cousins in the solar. They were talking in hushed tones about the Merryweathers, and told me that Lilyas Merryweather had married Methias Baratheon so hastily as to be improper. Nobody had been invited, and a more than substantial dowry was involved. As the Merryweathers had no sons, the marriage would mean that Long Table would pass to the Baratheons. Another insult. Another push at our borders. It was clear that the Baratheons were starting to look for fights, but they wanted to make sure we were the ones starting it.

Ravenka smiled, and batted her eyes, and said that at the least the Merryweathers might be rethinking the wisdom of their decision, because they had heard that awful rumor about a secret blood disease running through the veins of the Baratheon men. “I don't know who spreads these stories,” she said with a silvery little laugh that chilled me to the bone. Suddenly I found myself reevaluating my Free Cities cousin and her provincial ways. There is a wicked intelligence behind those pretty eyes.

Odette too, was scaring me. She sat still and straight with a somewhat distant expression, like someone looking over the map of a battlefield and calculating how many lives might be lost. She leveled her gaze at us and said that perhaps something could be done about Methias Baratheon. And done about the girl, in case he had gotten her with child. If he died without issue, the ownership of Long Table would revert to us.

There was a silence, and then everyone spoke at once, hissing possibilities back and forth. A man could be wounded in the tourneys. He could be injured and sent to a waiting medic, where all kinds of things could happen. He wouldn't have to die, of course, just be... impaired. And then I thought of something I had heard from Azeline Ivy a few days before. Her cousin Slaange, who we had sent along with her to Silver Hill, had proved a strong knowledge of poisons and substances. If anything could be done, both about the possibility that Lilyas was already with child, and the chances of making another one, he would know how to do so in the most quiet fashion there was. I said this, quietly, and assured the ladies that I would speak with him that night.

I went to seek out Azeline, presuming correctly that she would be avoiding the castle and enjoying the company of her new friends. I found them around the fire listening to a really filth song from the performer, but Azeline bounded to my side almost as soon as she saw me. There's another pretty girl, though young. I felt a bit bad for needing to brush her aside so quickly, but I had to talk to Slaange. He looked startled when I called for him, and there was something like a flush in his cheeks when he agreed to talk to me alone. Interesting, that. He was a bit miffed that Azeline had told me about him, but I assured him of my discretion – and my willingness to pay for his services.

I asked him first about the drink for the girl. “There's a girl-” I started.

“Say no more,” Slaange said, waving a hand, then caught something in my look and frowned. “Wait... perhaps you should say more.”

“I need to make sure that if she is with child... she isn't any more,” I said. “But without her knowing.”

He nodded. “I can do that.”

The next, though, was a tricky prospect. In order for a man to lose his vitality as we intended, he needed a red-capped mushroom rare enough to be a serious challenge. He said it only grew in the hollow where a fox had gone in to give birth, and died instead. He called to Azeline, and asked her if such a thing grew in our forests. She agreed that it should, and I offered to take us all on a hunting trip in the morning. They could look as much as they pleased then. With that, I took my leave, and went back to the feast to tell the others what we needed.

Rula

§

When the second son of the Gardeners came and asked for my brother, I tried not to stare. Especially since everyone else was doing enough staring already. The man looks like he walked out of a ballad, which isn't remotely fair. Azeline could barely manage to talk sense around him, and she's a sensible sort of girl, normally. Seemed to be all my brother could do to not make doe eyes at the man. Not that I wasn't affected, mind, I think it would take a person made of stone not to respond to that smile, but I know my chances.

When Slaange hinted that what the lordling wanted was some kind of poisoning, I grunted and held up a hand. “Likely then, it's better the less I know,” I muttered. “I'll just make sure you're safe.” When it comes to noble business, I've always imagined it's best that I only know exactly as much as I need to do my job. A job which apparently now includes going on a hunting trip and helping to find some kind of mushroom. I don't mind being out and about, I suppose, but all the same, I've not had lovely experiences with the wildlife around these parts so far.

Not my job to protest, though. In the morning, we would go hunting.

Ch. 2 - Old Places

Rula

§

Silver Hill was an uglier town than I expected it to be. Sounds pretty, but mining's an ugly job, I suppose, and the town showed it. Tailings piles everywhere and miners in piss-poor moods. I wanted to turn tail and leave soon as we was in the place, but we had a job to do. Azeline lost her confidence soon's she was in the middle of civilization again and wasn't sure where to start, so we all prodded her get a feel for the local attitudes in a tavern. It could be the rest of us were wantin' a drink at that point, too, so we found ourselves the Squeaky Cart Tavern. The temperature lowered once we were inside, though, since none of us looked a thing like a miner. Conversations went quiet and we all sat down and had ale. Well, those of us with a lick of sense had ale; Azeline asked for wine, and could barely choke down a couple of sips, and that was with a chunk of bread.

It didn't seem like we were going to be able to hear much with everyone keepin' to themselves, so Quaynlis started singing a song. It was a filthy little ditty, and that was well-received, and everyone warmed up a bit more when Azeline said she wanted to learn to gamble. Mostly, she lost herself some money, which I suppose was a fine plan for making friends. Soon enough, one of the miners was tellin' her the trouble, how the silver was all out, and the town wouldn't sustain in the same way it had before. There weren't much to say after that, and we left the tavern in a drizzle, figuring we'd better get ourselves a place to stay for the night, and a few gentlemen came out from the alley and tried to relieve us of our money. There were as many of them as us, which meant that they were outclassed and didn't even know it. My sword is like an extension of myself, and I had it in my hand before any of them could even get to me. There were two close by and I swiped my sword across the first one's throat and jabbed at the next, and by that time, my friends had made short work of the others. Our attackers ran, well, all of 'em excepting the one on the ground with his throat slit, and we continued on our way.

First inn we went to was called “M'Lady's Chamber,” and a posh man who introduced himself as Gorice made it clear he didn't think we could pay. Granted, we didn't look like nobs, but it seems they don't get too many travelers Gorice would find acceptable. He didn't like it much either when Quaynlis, with a perfectly straight face, asked “How did a lady of quality such as yourself end up in Silver Hill?” He suggested we try the Silver Squirrel instead, and we weren't of a mind to argue. The Silver Squirrel was a nice enough place too, and more our speed downstairs, with pipe music and rowdy singing. It was set to be a fine night until Azeline ordered dinner enough for two people just to feed her dog. None of us could stop her in time, and it was clear there weren't much goodwill to be had from the townspeople after that. Quaynlis sighed, seeming a bit put off after talking so much about finding a pretty girl or two for the night. Then he got this little smile, and said he was thinking he'd like to go to bed, and would Slaange like to go to bed too? I tried not to choke on my ale as Slaange went a little pink in the ears and agreed, and they went upstairs.

Now, it's not as if I don't know my brother's preferences. He's never looked twice at a girl, not even when we were younger and first learning just what it was that boys and girls got up to with each other. And I'm not saying it bothers me any, the idea of one man getting his pleasure in another man, but when it's your own brother, you don't really want to know all the details. A story or two, yes, but you don't want to hear him in the next room rolling about and groaning, and you certainly don't want Azeline staring at you with those big wide eyes and asking if you think they're all right. Quaynlis is an attractive man and I'm happy for Slaange, truly I am, but it sours the mood a bit to listen in and try to make excuses. “Wrestling, Miz Ivy,” I said at last as I stripped down for my bath. “That's what they're doing. Practicing.”

“We should do that too,” she said, and I just sank into the hot water to pretend that I didn't exist.

In the morning, I avoided Slaange's eyes so I wouldn't think about it all, and if it hurt his feelings any, it served him right for what I'd had to go to sleep to the night before. Azeline decided she had to talk to someone who might know for sure if the mine was drying up, so she went to talk animal care with the teamsters. She helped settle a mule that kicked out at Arun, and once she got comfy with the animal handlers, one of 'em told her that there was still silver underground, but it got too hot and the air too foul that deep in the mines, and they couldn't bring it out.

That seemed to settle the question, and we were glad to leave the mining town. Quaynlis, though, had different plans than going right back to Lord Gardener and sharing the news. He said we would be going by Blackbane Hall, or the ruins of it, where the Gardeners used to live before they reclaimed the Gardener heritage. None of us were keen to get back, and the way Quaynlis told the story made it sound awfully romantic, so we agreed we'd go to Blackbane first and let him do his treasure hunting there.

My brother was looking spooked right away when we got there. He's not superstitious, mind, just rather unimpressed with untamed nature. Arun went off barking after a rabbit, and Quaynlis took off for the ruined palisades seemingly without a care in the world, but the rest of us proceeded a little more cautiously. Ahead of us was the remains of what had been a great hall, and the rest of the building partly intact behind it. Around the back of the building was a huge dark tangle of apple trees. I've always thought apple trees looked good and wholesome, but these seemed wrong, somehow, made it like a threatening forest rather than an overgrown orchard. As I was admiring this view, I heard a choked little noise from Slaange, and in careful tones, he asked Ivy if she knew whether a huge green snake with red eyes was like to be dangerous. Ivy said they were very poisonous, and Slaange went a little pale at that, because he had damn near stepped on one and it was looking at him now like it was considering whether he'd be tasty.

One wrong move could get my brother killed. But when I practiced with my water dancing master, he told me I needed to be quick as a snake. He caught little brown snakes that had a painful, though not deadly, bite, and put them in big cages. Then he would steal my things, and put them in the center of the cages, so that I would have to be quick as a snake to retrieve them without getting bitten. I did get bitten of course, many times over. I spent weeks with my hands and forearms swollen and in agony. Then, one day, my hand moved quicker than the serpent. One day, I learned to be as fast – faster than – a snake. I couldn't allow myself to think about Slaange, because if I did, I would worry. The universe was just me, and my blade, and the snake. And I sliced its head off before it could move.

Slaange unfroze himself, and he knelt to carefully harvest one of the poison glands from the snake, chiding me on having damaged the other. Ungrateful little snot, my brother. He didn't want to go into the ruins, but he wanted even less to be left outside alone with the snakes, so he reluctantly followed us in.

The wood was rotten and the floors were caving in at points, and we had to move carefully. Well, that's what I'm good at, so when the others edged along a beam like they might die, I practically danced across it. Felt good to really move, after feeling like one big saddle sore out on the road. We explored around, and when Quaylis met a door he couldn't get through, he generally used his maul to smash through it. At the bottom of a set of rickety spiral stairs, we found a bunch of clay jars with lead seals. Quaynlis pried one open, and inside was the sweetest, best mead I've ever tasted. It had had years to settle, which meant we would have to siphon it off the top to keep the quality, but we all figured we could come back for it. We sat and had a drink and didn't realize that the sweetness was attracting company. Wasn't until we was covered in big biting ants that we saw a need to get out of there. And as we stomped our way up the stairs, we learned the buggers had wings too. And then I noticed that our bold adventurer Quaynlis was frozen at the bottom of the stairs. “Slaange, help me!” I yelled, and got an arm around one side of Quaynlis and Slaange got him on the other side, and we dragged him up the stairs. I slapped him across the face to snap him out of it while Slaange and Ivy spread saltpeter around to deter the ants.

We made camp that night, and promised one more foray into Blackbane because Quaynlis had found his adventuring spirit again. He crashed through another door, one made of iron this time – Now, I know this is my brother's territory, but the man has surprising muscle, and it flexes under his shirt when he lifts his maul. It's not bad watching, is all I'm saying. Behind the door we found a smaller hall with a bunch of tapestries, and a giant shield with the Felsward arms that made Quaynlis very happy. He sat at the high table, clearly pretending at being lord, while the rest of us poked about. I'll not deny any man his fantasies, but it all seems a bit silly. Then again, he comes from nobler stock than some of us, so maybe it's something in the blood. We ended that little excursion looking through the abandoned kitchen and finding a giant nest of biting rats, and once more, left Blackbane Hall as quickly as we could manage.

With a promise to Quaynlis that we would return before too long, we headed back to Highgarden, where Azeline had the thankless job of reporting bad news to Lord Arthyr.

Kai

§

The mines were nearly done for. That was what Ivy's party found, although they also reported that there was silver too far down to be reached. And nobody wants to go plunging into hot, deep... mines. Still, I could see my father sending people to their deaths over it, and that wasn't a cheery thought. There has to be another way to keep our land profitable. And on top of that, there's the Baratheons to deal with and their damnable new tolls, and the singularly thankless prospect of getting Tyrys a wife and an heir.

I discussed these things with my cousins, though the conversation about Tyrys was prompted mostly by Auntie Odette, who is getting less subtle in her hints that perhaps Florie would be a good and convenient match. I would really prefer to focus on making sure the Baratheons keep their distance.

Ch. 1 - New Blood

Kai

§

On a fine spring day when I was mostly concerned about being excited that another pretty cousin would be visiting Highgarden, Father was in a foul mood. He had been getting messages by raven that made him more and more grumpy, and Tyrys wasn't helping matters, mostly just removing himself to go play soldier in the courtyard. It was really irritating, because I don't like to have to worry about castle affairs. Well, other than my own. But with newcomers to Highgarden on the way, and I wanted to make sure that we presented a good front, and my glowering father and sweaty brother might let me down, so I had to interfere.

Tyrys was busy damn near murdering our master at arms when I went to talk to him. Where I am a little more lithe and slender, Tyrys looks like he should be charging into battle on a giant stallion, but most of us are of the mind that he needs an heir before he goes off to find a war to kill himself in. He had a wife, a pretty Baratheon girl, who died, as he likes to say, “murdering his son” in childbirth. We have bad luck, my brother and I, when it comes to women. I've been engaged three times, and none of them lived long enough to be my bride. It's not quite as important for me as it is for Tyrys though, and I've no doubt that much of my near future will be filled with trying to make sure he has a bride that won't break this time. But I digress. Tyrys reluctantly came away from his fight to tell me that it was none of my business to know what Father was so upset about. Thinking that was no way to have a brotherly conversation, I tugged him aside a bit more and to express concern over the stress everyone was feeling. Perhaps, I said, I could lessen his burden by offering him a night to relax and forget his worries. A night, specifically, with Ilsa, a girl I had planned to see that evening, but who I've noticed is rather partial to my brother too. I'd be more than happy, I said, to give up my evening, if he would tell me what was going on. It was probably Ilsa's ample charms more than mine that worked on him, but he lowered his voice and told me that word was coming in that Silver Hill was exhausted. A serious source of income for us, drying up fast. Now I could see why the mood of the castle was so dark.

Nevertheless, I endeavored to help hide the bad moods when we greeted Cousin Ravenka in the afternoon. I stood next to my other lovely cousin Florie, who had her fair hair decorated with ribbons for the occasion, and the neck of her gown dipping low enough to draw a man's eye. This man in particular. I dragged my gaze up in time to see our steward, my Auntie Odette, bustling forward to meet the arriving party with cakes and drinks. And then Ravenka came forward, a lovely little vision in exotic brocades, and I decided I would be her personal tour guide as much as I could get away with.

At the feast in her honor that night, she surprised everyone with some charming provincial manners and forwardness. They must do things very differently in the Free Cities, and despite some hissed directions from Florie, she insisted on serving Father wine. Adorable.

But then she was talking about the things that she had seen on her journey from King's landing, and one of those things was the toll they were exacting at Bitter Bridge. That got everyone's attention, though she told it so simply and sweetly that she couldn't have known just how unusual it was. She only remarked that the merchants she had traveled with had been deeply irritated by it. I saw Father going calculating, and he motioned Odette to him. I heard a muttered conversation about inviting (compelling, rather) Lord Caswell of Bitter Bridge and Lord Redwyne to come to our upcoming harvest festival. Odette bustled off to get letters written, and conversation turned more mundane. I was just inviting both of my cousins on a walk through the gardens afterwards when she came back and invited herself. By the Seven, you'd think that woman had an extra sense that informs her when I'm going to go off with girls. I mean, to be fair, she knows my habits. To be fairer, she's seen me watching Florie. But it's not as if I'm not discreet.

We walked, and eventually, when it became painfully obvious that Odette would not even let me charm either of the girls a little bit, the conversation turned towards the developing trouble at Silver Hill and Bitter Bridge. That Ravenka is a quick study, and listens well. She picked up on both issues right away, and we all wondered if it might be best to try and help to direct Father's attention. We could wait for the festival, not long off, to learn more about Caswell's alarming toll, but someone would have to go directly to Silver Hill to make see if, as had happened two generations before, the caretakers of Silver Hill were claiming a dry mine and taking the silver for themselves. We elected Odette, who has an efficient, polite way of making my father do what she wants, to go talk to him. That left me in the hall to flirt with the girls, which I think is a damned fine place to be.

Rula

§

Never pays to try and hobnob with nobles, I used to think, but the chit of a girl sitting in the stables with us hardly looked like a noble and hardly invited any fancy treatment. And besides, she was kin of the same bloodline. Azeline Ivy and her big ol' dog looked as if they'd be most at home roaming the woods like something out of a ballad, and from what I gathered, that's what she preferred to do, though her mum and dad didn't take so kindly to the thought. I didn't see what's got them so excitable, since she seems like a fine girl to me, but my mum made sure I spent my early years training as an assassin and the rest of them learning to fight, so I may not be the best judge of what's proper an' all. I'm a woman, but certainly not a lady.

My brother was sitting beside me, pretending not to know me while I told one of my filthy stories to our companions. Quaynlis, our fourth, had started it. Or maybe I'd started it. Anyway, we'd been exchanging back and forth a while, and Azeline was giggling and kept gasping at the impropriety of it all, but I figure a girl has to learn it all somewhere. A page interrupted us and said we had been asked inside to the kitchens. Slaange and I exchanged a glance, wondering at the long list of things we might be in trouble for. Still, the kitchen had fresh bread and more Meadowlark cider, so we all went along with it and trooped in to the kitchens.

Castle steward Odette Gardener stood in front of us, her matronly brow knit with some emotion I couldn't fathom. Like she was interested in us but afraid we might wee on the carpets like untrained puppies. She said that we were needed, as members of the extended family, to go on an exploratory trip to Silver Hill to investigate the mine there. Azeline's jaw about hit the floor when Odette said that she would be leading the party as a noble representative of Highgarden. I thought maybe it was some kind of joke for a moment, until Odette explained that they wanted someone who wasn't well-known as a member of court and who didn't look the part. None of us took badly to the idea either. I don't think any among us is much of a leader, or rather I doubt the rest of us want to be the one standing in front when one of the nobs gets flighty or upset. Better let 'em take care of their own and let the rest of us say we was just doing what we was told, thankyouverramuch.

We set off next morning for Silver Hill, and I realized I'm not much of a hand at riding 'cross the country, and neither is my horse so used to it, either. We've been city folk too long, I suppose. Azeline though looked as if she was born to it. She made our camp as if it was the easiest thing in the world, and there was even a rain shelter for whoever was standing guard. Our second night out, I was on guard and I heard a noise. I looked up into a pair of eyes glittering in the light of my little fire, and realized I had a bear in front of me, and it was about to attack. A sensible girl would have run the other direction, but I'm not a sensible girl, so I yelled for the others, drew out my steel, and stuck it in near the beast's neck. I hurt it, but it gave me a right mean whack along my side. By that time, though, the others were roused, and Quaynlis came roaring out of the tent with his big (mace? Cudgel? Wtf is that thing again?) and hit the bear across the back. It stumbled and I got some distance, and Azeline had nocked an arrow to her bow then and shot it between the eyes. The bear crumpled, and without so much as a blink, Azeline skinned it where it lay. Handy girl, her.