The Sound of Wings (Semi-Closed)

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

It was nearly midnight before the two men Gwyn had been watching emerged from The Painted World, bleary and laughing after spending some of the coin they'd earned from Lionel Darry for telling him about Marei, no doubt. Seeing them like that gave her a moment of pause. They were unpleasant men, scoundrels in every sense of the word. And not the loveable kind. As best she could tell they weren't of the Faith Militant...their patronage of the brothel certainly supported that...but they clearly had no compunctions about who they took money from, or the consequences of their taking it.

But that made them potentially useful as well.

Her heart was beating hard as she stepped out between the men and their horses. This could go so wrong in so many ways, so quickly. It was terrifying, but exciting as well. Baelon would have an absolute fit if he knew she was doing this...but he wouldn't be able to argue with the results.

Her experience hiding her emotions from Isobel served her well as she faced them. "
Good night to you."
Her voice was steady, and she affected just a hint of accent. Too faint to place, but suggesting a decently-concealed foreign origin. Just a little bit of a limp as well;
favoring her left leg when she stepped out.

The two immediately were on guard...too savvy to mistake her for some whore on her way to or from the Painted World. She was dressed wrong, in charcoal breeches and jacket, with a darker shirt beneath and a cloak whose hood obscured the upper half of her face. The dark tresses of her wig spilled out a little at the sides, and her skin seemed a bit pale from a light dusting of makeup.

"
You're in our way, miss,"
growled the bigger one. The slightly smaller man however had lowered his right hand to his belt. Yes, he was the dangerous one.

"
I'd like you to come with me,"
Gwyn replied quietly. "
I've an arrangement I want to discuss with you. It involves money."


With that, she turned and started walking away, giving them the choice of following her or not. For her part, if they didn't, then she'd simply go take off her disguise and turn them in to the Tullys. It would please them greatly, letting them save some face from the nightmare at the Tourney they'd hosted, and go a long way to soothe their ruffled feathers.

They followed. She didn't seem threatening, and they did love their money. Even if it wasn't in their pockets yet.

She didn't go to the Huntsman. There was another inn in town, a much seedier one that had never seen Gwyneth Marsten's face before, and still hadn't. Upstairs in the room she turned to face the door as they cautiously, warily entered. They relaxed a little when finding the room empty except for her.

"
Alright, we're here,"
said the smaller one. His name was Dwayne Kerrig, and he was a trapper. He eyed Gwyn now suspiciously. "
Where's the money? We're not doing anything before we see it."


The bigger one, Garruk was the only name Gwyn had learned, nodded gruffly.

"
You already have the money in question,"
Gwyn replied. Never hit someone from a direction they see coming. "
Allow me to explain."


The two glanced at each other and nodded.

Now in control of the conversation, Gwyn proceeded with her well-rehearsed exposition. "
The money I'm talking about is what you were paid by the Faith Militant, Lionel Darry in fact, to watch the pavilions of House Tullison."


Garruk stepped aggressively forward, but Dwayne put a hand out to 'restrain' him. "
There a point to this, miss?"
he asked with obviously false good cheer.

That's adorable. They're trying to nice-guard, mean-guard me.

"
You saw them carefully arranging to secret a woman away, relayed that to Darry, and...well, I imagine you heard about what happened next, at the Gallows Hill. Conspiracy. Espionage. Embarrassing Lord Tully in full view of the other Riverlands Houses."
Her lips curved into a hard smile. "
Capital crimes, I'm led to understand."


Dwayne echoed that smile, then burst into laughter. A moment later Garruk imitated it. "
Are you actually trying to shake us down for that money? Is that what this is? Garruk, tell her how much of it we have left."


He looked confused for a moment, then said, "
I...think we spent it all?"


"
Yeah."
Dwayne pulled out his dagger. "
What do you think? Rape then kill? Or kill then rape?"


Somehow, Gwyn managed to keep that slightly mocking smile. "
Gentlemen, I'm not the one who found you out. I was sent by the Nightengale."
She set on the little table in the room an embossed seal. She'd had an artisan make a few of them before coming here. On it was a stylized crest of a bird. "
Kill me, whatever you may wish, and what happens next is you going to bed, pleased with a night's work. Then in the morning guards burst in, and drag you to face Gorman Tully's tender mercies. Giving the evidence will be another face, another voice, but the same information."


Kerrig stared at her hard. He was just smart enough to be dangerous...but that included towards himself. "
You're bluffing."


She laughed. "
Yes, I invited two men to face them alone in a room where no one would notice or care about screams, because I wanted to bluff them. Dwayne. Garruk. I have no personal stake in what happens next. I was sent to tell you this, and take your answer back. If your answer is my head, then so be it. She will know what to do with you, either way."


He absorbed that. "
What if my answer isn't your head?"


She waved a hand at the seal. "
Then you will wake up tomorrow morning, richer. And with that seal. You will use your fine hunting eyes to watch the comings and goings of the castle, and sometimes you will write of what you've seen. When that happens, you'll use that seal to close the letters, and send them to an inn called The Leaping Mare. Do you know where that is?"


Dwayne looked blank, but Garruk nodded. He had a Northman's complexion, by Gwyn's estimate, and proved it when he said, "
It's on the King's Road. North. Near the Neck."


"
Just so. When the Nightengale has seen it, and compared it to other reports, you will then get..."


Gwyn produced a little leather sack of silver coins and put it on the table.

Kerrig scowled a little. Pay was good, but...he didn't like feeling like he was employed. He tried to wrestle control back. "
Who is this 'nightengale'?"
he demanded. "
I've never heard of him."


"
Her,"
she corrected. "
And no, you haven't. And neither will anyone else, from you. If you accept the deal, of course."


He stared down at the little fired clay seal. Gwyn watched carefully, but the fact he hadn't been more physically aggressive suggested to her that they were taking her seriously. That was most of the battle right there. If they took her seriously, then the choice was clear. They were being asked to do nothing terribly difficult in exchange for money, and with the threat of capture and execution waiting in the wings if they demurred. The window behind Gwyn was unlocked, and unlatched, and had a knotted sheet dangling from it...but if they'd come at her, it was still very possible they'd have caught her before she could use that escape route. The risk was real.

But yes, he was nodding. He'd done the numbers in his head and reached the inevitable conclusion.

"
All right,"
Dwayne said, picking up the seal.

"
Good. Lets say every month to start with, or any time you see something that seems unusual. If it goes well, and your reports are corroborated, then more frequent updates could be made, with more frequent payments as well."


He nodded brusquely. The details worked themselves out in his experience.

Gwyn went to the door and opened it for them. She didn't want to rub it into their faces, but she thought after them as they left, Welcome aboard, my little songbirds.

---

Previously, at The Leaping Mare

"
It's a simple arrangement,"
said the pale woman with the funny accent. Lemund shrugged as he scrubbed out one of the tankards. The Mare was quiet this time of night, but he was never in good sorts unless he felt busy.

"
You'll get letters from time to time, with this seal. When you do, keep them in a safe spot. If you need a good locked chest, we can provide one."


He grunted. "
I got something I can use."


"
Good. Then, every so often, someone will come and buy a drink...and with the money you'll see one of these."


She held out a hand, with a little copper piece in it. He squinted and looked closer. The minting of the piece was that of a little bird, much like the seal had been.

"
You'll give that coin back, take the payment, and with the drink, give that person whatever sealed letters you have. For this service, there will be a compensation in coin."


He ran his tongue along behind his teeth. "
It sounds shady, miss. I don't want any trouble here."


"
I understand completely. If you decline, you won't be troubled by me again. There are many inns along the road. Any of them could use the extra coin in these hard times."
She got to her feet. "
Thank you for your consideration."


Lemund frowned as he looked back at the larder. She was walking away. And he was aware of the hard choices coming up. He'd heard the winter wasn't over yet too. It wasn't going to get any easier, not for a while yet.

"
Miss. A...a moment."


Gwyn stopped, but didn't look back.

"
I think maybe we can work out a deal."


She smiled.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Two months previous...

"
I expect you have...reservations,"
Gwyneth said. She looked at the people around her as she spoke. They were a handful of dirty women and children for the most part;
the wives and children of the miners still toiling away farther up the mountains.

There were a few men though, a couple nursing obvious injuries and a couple more who had briefly held weapons before Baelon announcing himself. And one who was a bit thicker than the others, and older, who walked with a pronounced limp that spoke of an old injury that had never quite healed right.

Where most eyes were averted from Gwyn, or nervously skittered away from her and the trio of men at arms Baelon had insisted stay with her when he moved on up to Caladan Hall for his inspection, the man Gwyn unfairly labeled in her mind as 'the fat man' stepped forward and gazed at her assessingly.

"
No disrespect to you or your lord husband,"
he said, with a touch of wheeze to his voice, "
we're simple folk here, miners through and through. Those of us old enough to remember lords and ladies...well...it were a different time, milady. And not always better."


Gwyn nodded, relieved that she wasn't going to have to pry. The worst case here would have been if everyone had bent neck and knee, and stammered platitudes, while their fears festered in secret.

"
I understand,"
she said. "
The last House this land has known was the Darrys, who were more concerned with spreading their version of the Faith at swordpoint than being good stewards. Their crimes are numerous and well-known, but as I stand here the greatest in my mind is their neglect of their people and lands."


She wheeled her horse gently around, taking in the landscape. The collection of shacks and awkwardly-made wood houses all jammed together here and there, the horse trail up the foothills that wound down to the thin forest below and beyond, to the grassy plains now painted spectacular orange by the deepening sunset.

"
I see this place not as what it is, but what it can be,"
Gwyn said softly. Then more loudly as she turned back to face the 'fat man,' "
And you're all important parts of that vision. Each one of you. Those of you who don't work in the mines as well as the miners. There will be a place for all."
She quested momentarily in her memory from when Baelon had asked for his name. "
You're Devin...are you in charge here?"


Devin chuckled at that and shook his head, but Gwyn noted that his eyes were still leveled on her. "
I'm older than most, and folks seem to listen to me, but that's on their fool heads. When it comes to the mine, Haldan's the foreman."


Gwyn nodded. "
All right then. Devin, when the miners return I'd like you and Haldan to come up to the Hall. We have a lot to discuss."


---

“Meaning no disrespect,” said Haldan gruffly, “but when will Lord Baelon be joining us? It’s been a long and hard day, and I’d like to get this over with.”

Haldan the mine foreman was almost the opposite of Devin. Tall and lanky where the other was a little short and stout, and he showed his age as a badge of honor while Devin had taken some pains to conceal the grey in his thinning hair. Haldan’s head was a wild mess of grey-white, streaked with dust and grime. His face was as craggy as the mountain he lived beside. His eyes were large and round, giving him an unnervingly intense stare.

“He won’t be,” Gwyneth said calmly. “He has his hands full with the new recruits, and getting things ready for those who will be following. He has left the household and finances in my hands…and as the mine is the only immediate source of revenue, that means it’s also in my hands.”

She met Haldan’s eyes with her own stare, daring him to make issue of it.

The foreman made a peculiar expression midway between a smirk and a sneer and threw his hands up. “Bah! Soldiers! Here! Recruits!”

“Protecting our lands and people is one of the first and most fundamental duties of a Lord and Lady,” reminded Gwyn. “We can hardly do that without soldiers.”

Haldan shook his head. “I wouldn’t expect you to… Soldiers beget soldiers. They attract each other, like lodestones. We’ve gone years now with no soldiers, and never had to defend ourselves against anyone.”

“Because you have nothing.” Gwyn waited for Haldan to open his mouth in outrage, and quickly cut him off. “Bandits prey on the King's Road not one day from here, but leave you alone because you have nothing. You have a mine, but just a handful of local blacksmiths down the King’s Road who buy from you. You get just enough money to keep yourselves fed and in clothes. Every year another few children leave instead of working the mine. In another ten, you won’t have enough hands left to support the community anymore. And all that will be left are the plank walls you couldn’t take with you.”

Devin glanced at Haldan quickly, furtively, with a momentary expression of vindication. Haldan didn’t even seem to notice. He glowered at Gwyn and sputtered, “Who do you think…you come in here, all fancy on your prancing horses, move in, start ordering…you don’t know anything about this place!”

Gwyn leaned forward over the table a little and said, “You’re right.” Into the surprised silence she then went on, “Oh, I have eyes. I can look around and see the overall situation, but I don’t know anything specific. I don’t know the men or women. I don’t know which paths are safe, and which flood out when the snows thaw. I don’t know how much of what sort of metal are in the mines, or how to get the men to dig for them.”

She paused again. “You do. That’s why you’re here with me now. Devin, you too. We are going to change this place’s grim fate. Your days of having nothing are ending…but having something means others will want to take it, and that means protecting it. Lord Baelon is simply being forward-thinking. He is preparing for success, so we are not caught off-guard when it happens. I’d like you both to learn from that example, because we’re going to need that kind of thinking.”

Into the pause that followed, this time it was Devin who spoke. “With all respect, we’re off the road and not near any big cities. I’ve tried to find more buyers but…” he shrugged.

Gwyneth smiled reassuringly. “You’ve done very well with what you’ve had. When I say how little you have, it’s in no way a reflection of any incompetence on either of your parts. If I believed that, you wouldn’t be here now. I’ve no time to waste on incompetence. However, without a Lord, you are struggling under a great and terrible weight. You can’t negotiate trade, or passage, or make treaties or alliances. You have no influence, no friends, no leverage.”

“As of now, that’s done. Once I have things sorted out here, I’ll be personally seeing to making sure Westeros knows of our product and its fine quality. My first letters will go out this week. We’ll have just a few more after that before orders start coming in, so it’s vital we prepare.”

Haldan started reasserting himself then. “Prepare how? I’m already working our boys hard. We can’t mine more without more men, and there’s no more men to do it.”

“Then we’ll just have to hire more from outside. Haldan, I assume you’ve an eye for good workers.”

He laughed bitterly. “Hire with what? Gravel?”

Gwyn laughed along, though her own was light and melodic and ended when she said, “No, I was thinking something more like…”

She lifted a purse onto the table from where she’d had it at her side, and spilled it open. A small pile of gold coins flowed out, silencing both Devin and Haldan at once.

“Lord Baelon and I both are aware that one must spend money to make money,” Gwyn said. “As I said, your days of having nothing are over. Haldan, I need you to give me a good accounting of how many men you need to fully work the mine. Every branch, every vein. We may not get them all immediately, but it will give us a number to work towards. Assume full shifts, and full but not punitive hours. You’ll need help too, so pick two men who you’d like to work under you. Your new title will be…hmm. Mine Manager? Mine Steward? Well, anyway you’ll be in charge of mining operations. The two you choose will become your foremen.”

Haldan sat shellshocked, opening and closing his mouth. His eyes were fixed on the gold until Gwyn swept it back into the purse. “Three,” he managed. “To start. Three foremen, and once we get full shifts most likely more.”

Gwyn smiled. “As I said, tell me what you need, and I’ll see about getting it to you.”

She looked at Devin then, who’s eyes were wide as saucers. “I, uh,” he stammered, “I’ve worked the mines, but…”

“I have another idea for you,” Gwyn said to him. “You know the people here well, and you clearly have their respect. So you’re the mayor now. In addition to your current duties, I’ll be working with you on preparing for the changes to come. There will be some challenges. We’ll probably need to relocate some houses, oversee the clearing of some land, and so on. Also, I need to meet some people. Any artisans or skilled labor. Anyone who can read and write, or do numbers.”

“And of course, your main task will be to help make the folk comfortable with what’s happening, and to report any problems to me or Lord Baelon so we can deal with them.”

At Devin’s expression, Gwyn was quick to assure him, “No dungeons or executions, Devin. When I say ‘deal with,’ I mean talk to and solve, not cauterize like an infected wound. This place, these people…they are my future. I won’t be poisoning them.”

“This is a great deal to take in at once, my lady,” Devin said uncertainly.

“It is. In fact, I think it’s enough for tonight. I’ll see you both tomorrow. Haldan, you’ll want to find someone to cover for you at the mines, because we’ll likely be busy most of the day.”

Haldan stood up and nodded, then frowned at Gwyn. “This isn’t…it’s not how it’s supposed to be, ‘tween a lord and his subjects.”

Gwyn gave him a perplexed look. “What do you mean?”

“This…thing you’re doing.” She shook her head, still not getting it. “Working!” exploded the foreman, more from confusion than anger. “You sit, in the chair, and you…tell folk what to do, and wait for them to do it!”

She stood up as well and approached him, but only until he took a step back. “You’ve had bad lords,” explained Gwyn gently. “This is how it’s supposed to be. And frankly, even if it’s not, I’ve never been one to let someone else’s idea of how things are supposed to be stop me. This is how I want it to be. So. You both have some work to do. Think on it tonight, and tomorrow morning we’ll get started.”

The two men exchanged glances, and left Caladan Hall.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

One month later..

"
Riders! They bear the arms of House Coldbrook!"
The call went out from the lookouts posted along the narrow path up to the village. It was relayed up by word of mouth until it reached the ears of Devin. He sent it on to Caladan Hall. Lady Gwyneth had let him know this visit was coming, but it didn't help the butterflies in his stomach much. Lords and ladies, money and power...having something was grand at first, but it also meant you had something to lose.

How did one greet the Lord of one's Lord?

One left it to your Lord. Or, in this case, Lady. That was a balm. Lady Drakeson had been, so far at least, hands-on enough that the slowly swelling population, and therefore swelling job duties, hadn't been overwhelming yet. Let her deal with Lord Coldbrook...he still needed to get Haldan's outrageous demands for mining equipment whittled down to something reasonable before showing it to her and getting them BOTH beheaded.

So as Daveth and his company came to the hamlet at the base of the mountain, where Caladan Hall perched above like some stone hawk jealously guarding a fresh kill, he was greeted by the Lady Gwyneth Drakeson and an honor guard.

"
Lord Coldbrook,"
she greeted, with a bow in the saddle, "
Your visit does us honor. I'm eager to show off what we've managed to accomplish. Would you like to come to the Hall first, or have a tour of the town?"

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth conceals his frown at her address of him. She knows full well only my father should be addressed as Lord Coldbrook. What's she trying to tell me? I doubt she wishes to be corrected in public. Hmmm. Ah. She probably wishes for me to be as lordly as possible, yet still show her respect, for the benefit of her people. These people have gotten used to being lordless, and likely dislike taking orders from a woman besides. Well, let's hope I can help with that.

"
Lady Drakeson."
Daveth gives a formal bow in response, and replies in a clear voice. "
We are pleased to be here, and I look forward to seeing your accomplishments. Given that your people are your most important asset, let us have a tour of the town first."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
Of course."
She pulled in closer, her mount clopping along placidly alongside his, with the honor guard of both parties fanning out along and behind them.

In a lower voice, with a wicked grin, she said, "
You're going to have to get used to being called that sooner or later you know, Daveth. And lets be honest and admit that you're the only Lord Coldbrook these people are ever likely to meet. There's no harm done trying it on on for size here."


Then, in a more conversational register, she said, "
It's still very much a work in progress. The large building there that Loral and his friends are working on will be a sort of town hall, where hearings are held and assemblies and other functions of that sort. We've built new housing off over there, and there, so we can move people away from the center. And of course, the new ones are higher quality, so the moves are generally seen as a positive, if a sometimes inconvenient one. However, it's making room for an inn...essential for supporting traveling merchants...and there will be a smithy there where the marks in the ground are. We're getting some good quarried stone brought in, and Lord Baelon is working to get a skilled smith."


"
There's only so much money to be made selling ores, you see. Finished metal will be much more valuable and much easier to find buyers for. Haldan, our mining overseer, has told me that one of the branches they opened hit a new pocket."
She smiled happily at that news. "
So the mine is still very productive. Baelon and I have been focusing most of our initial investments on that. Workers, equipment...it's been quite an undertaking."


Though Daveth hadn't been there when the Drakesons arrived, the hamlet was indeed very different. There were more people, for one, though not a vast amount more. More telling was that quite a number of men and women alike were busy with tasks. There was the town hall, and several houses being built. messages being passed around by children, a general flurry of activity that waxed and waned but never stopped. While the adults were quick to back away from the pair and their entourage, children who hadn't lived long enough to learn to fear men on horses laughed and waved at them as they passed.

"
We've had very good response so far from our customers,"
Gwyn went on, "
I'm planning a trip into the Riverlands in fact, to work out some trade agreements and introduce the craftsmen to our metal. And Baelon and I are working out just what it would take for us to get the path up here widened and make it an actual road that connects to the King's Road so merchants can actually find the place."
She chuckled. "
We spent a couple of hours looking around for it on our way up here the first time."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth simply nods at her explanation. Flattery, then. Still, she's correct. I do have to get used to it.

He carefully assesses the hamlet. "
I remember what this place was like when I did my assessment of it. Never mind the development, there's a vitality here that wasn't there before, a sense of greater purpose."
he subtly looks over at Lady Gwyneth, assessing her reaction to his next words. "
Your presence here must have already caused some fairly big changes in the way they've been doing things for some time."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth laughed. "
We have, though a lot of what you're seeing now is simply the fruits of investment. Throwing gold around is sure to get a reaction in the short term. It remains to be seen how well we can use that window to achieve lasting change."


She kept smiling as she watched the village at work.

"
But they're good people. Anyone who's heart wasn't in being here has long since left. They all stubbornly love this land, and one another...even when they curse and shout about them. They'll be the heart of what's to come."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods, satisfied at the answer, and speaks quietly to her. "
In my experience, should you be surprised by something, it is nearly always the people who do it. In all sorts of ways."
his tone is part compliment, part warning. "
Finding the ideal line between trust and oversight will probably be your toughest challenge, and it's forever shifting under you. You'll probably have a lot of demands on your time, and it's very tempting to just assume that because everything *was* fine, it still is. Tempting, but a mistake."
His tone implies that it's a mistake he's made himself before, and is determined to not make again.

He looks around one more time at all the activity, as well as noting the attention they're drawing, before continuing in a slightly louder voice. "
While it's early days, I look forward to seeing how you can help this place develop. But we're probably distracting them from their work. Shall we move on to the hall?"
his tone, while a suggestion, does leave the option open should Lady Gwyneth want to show off something in particular.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth nodded at Daveth's words. "
That's an excellent suggestion. There's some things there you'll want to see as well. And with any luck Lord Baelon will have gotten word of your arrival and be ready for us."


She smiled and led Daveth towards the Hall visible up the path.

"
He's been working very hard training with the men, trying to bring our new recruits up to the standards of the soldiers you sent with us."


They made their way up the trail to the stout, reinforced doors of Caladan Hall. The man on the wall called in to open for them, and there was a rumble of some sturdy bar being drawn, a THUNK, and then the groan of timbers and time-worn brass and steel from the hinges as those doors swung slowly open to admit them inside.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods as he follows her up the trail. "
I understand. No doubt he wishes to contribute to the campaign against the clans with forces he feels he can be proud of."
a small smile. "
Naturally, I approve. House Coldbrook has a reputation to uphold, after all."

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Daveth!"
Baelon says warmly as he emerges from an inner room. He is dressed oddly for being indoors, with a cloak drawn close about him. He also uncharacteristically does not offer a hand in greeting.

As he draws near, Daveth can smell the sharp iron scent of blood.

"
I apologize for not meeting you in town. There was an... incident... in training this morning. We were drilling lance work and..."
he glances over at Gwyn "
well, no permanent damage was done, but I felt it was necessary to stay with my man until he was cared for. Our Maester hasn't arrived yet, but we make do."


He smiles, somewhat grimly.

"
Actually, as rude as this is being to a guest, and my liege lord's heir and a friend at that, I am going to have to leave you in my wife's extremely capable hands for a little while longer, as I have not had a chance to clean up from the... incident."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth stared at Baelon in mute horror, but her eyes cut sideways towards where Daveth was just behind and to the left of her. The smell of the blood snaked into her nose, and she couldn't breathe, couldn't think. There was a sound in her head like a high pitched whistle.

"
Maester,"
she gasped suddenly, exhaling all at once. "
Yes, of course. I...we're making arrangements. For a Maester. I can show you the, uh...the room. Rooms."


She cleared her throat, trying not to inhale while the blood scent was in the air. "
There's books. And...things."

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon winces at Gwyn's reaction. He had done his best to hide the blood from her, but has clearly failed.

"
Well, if you'll excuse me..."


Without waiting for a response, he exits back the way he came.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

"
Lord Baelon?"
Daveth calls after him. "
Would my skills be of assistance in the situation? I am here to help, and this would be far from the first training accident I have seen to. I know what it's like to be without a maester."


He gives a reassuring smile to Lady Gwyneth beside him, sensing her disquiet.

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon shrugs.

"
Your skills wouldn't hurt, but I don't think they are necessary. Petyr's leg has been straightened and splinted, and his wound has been stitched and a poultice made by a local herbswoman applied. The villagers all swear by her, and it seems to have worked on our previous injuries, though this is by far the worst we've had."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn managed to collect herself a bit and said, "
I think it's a fine idea. A good chance for the men to meet him, and it will give me time to straighten up around the hall for his tour."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods. "
Alright, then."
sliding off his horse, and pulling a small bag off and slinging it over his shoulder. He pats his horse's neck reassuringly, and looks at one of his guards behind him. "
See Hoskagon is properly stabled."


After a swift gesture of farewell to Lady Gwyneth, he strides after Lord Baelon. "
As you say, it won't do any harm. And if she's as good as the villagers claim, there's a chance I might even learn something myself."
and, once he's caught up, in a quieter voice. "
My apologies for turning up at such short notice. I have to take advantage of the lulls in my workload as and when they occur, and there's little predicting them. And if you're at all embarrassed by your state, ask me sometime about the time Lord Reed himself came to visit House Coldbrook at an inopportune time."
a small, slightly embarrassed, smile "
Trust me, it could be a lot worse."

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
I wouldn't say I'm embarrassed. The cause of my state, as you put it, is something that I know you put a high value for - namely taking care of my people. Honestly, I covered up like this more for Gwyn's sake than for yours. I saw you at Harren's Justice;
bloodstains from aiding a wounded soldier don't bother you."


Baelon leads Daveth into the hall.

"
We gave Petyr some milk of the poppy, so he will likely be groggy if not outright asleep."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods. "
True enough. Honestly, I'd be disappointed if you didn't stand by your man,"
from his tone, Daveth doesn't consider this a likely possibility, "
and likely guilty on top if you didn't do so for my sake."


When they get to the room, Petyr's already asleep. Daveth begins an assessment of how well the wound's been treated.

[url=Could I heal Petyr better?][/url]: 4d6k3 11

In a quiet voice, so as to not disturb Petyr's sleep, he continues, "
So, aside from this incident, how's your training going? You've got a lot to do, and not much time to do it in. Will they be ready to march against the clans, do you think?"

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon nods.
"
Training has been going well. I had several skilled knights come forward to swear their loyalty, and I used them along with some of the archers House Coldbrook supplied to create a rather unusual unit - a mix of traditional heavy cavalry with armored mounted archers."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth pauses his attempts at identifying the contents of the poultice through smell to turn around and look at Lord Baelon. "
Armoured mounted archers?"
he frowns. "
'Rather unusual' seems a bit of an understatement. I'm no military expert, but I've read a fair amount of history, and I can't remember coming across something like that before."
he pauses again. "
Maybe those horse nomads have something like that. I've never really paid them any attention."


Turning back to assessing the treatment, he continues. "
So, is this unit made from a military consideration, where you feel it will fulfil a useful, cost-effective battlefield niche? Or is it more of a political statement, where you're saying 'fuck tradition, new ways of doing things can prove remarkably effective if you give them a chance'? Either way, it's quite the risk to start off with such an untested idea."
Daveth's tone is neutral as he says that, neither condemning nor condoning, merely observing.

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon shrugs.
"
More the former than the latter, but others will decide for themselves why they think I did it. As for their effectiveness... well, we'll see when we go to face the clans."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth makes an acknowledging sound, then stands up from the man, assessment complete. "
I'd say your healer did a good enough job. Not as good as a true maester, but they should be enough to tide you over until you get one."
As he speaks, he's subtly trying to lead Lord Baelon to a place with a bit of privacy.

When he continues, he's speaking in a quieter voice, to try and avoid being overheard. "
There actually was a personal matter I wanted to ask you about, if you were willing. I am aware of the rumours surrounding your parentage. I would like to know the truth, if you know it, as well as associated information, such as who else knows it, and, most importantly, who now hates my guts for giving you this land."

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Ultimately, the truth of it doesn't matter. Who believes it is what matters. As such, there are three notable threats. First there is House Royce, who feel I am a blight on the honor of the Prince's deceased first wife, Rhea Royce, whom he was married to when I was born. I have already faced one Royce, a cousin of the main family. I don't think he himself will cause any more problems, but others might. Second, I have been told that Ser Lorent Marbrand of the Kingsguard has gotten it into his head that targeting me would advance his position with Princess Rhaenyra. Third, but most broadly, there could be any number of Green-aligned individuals who might decide that attacking me would weaken the Black faction."


Baelon shakes his head.

"
I don't think any of those I've mentioned would go after House Coldbrook directly, but who can say?"



OOC: An Awareness(Empathy) test will probably get you more info about the actual question you asked.

I'm assuming this takes place after the first part of Gwyn's personal story, which would mean that it would be after at least the first part of mine. I'm going to assume it is before the second part of mine, I think - it keeps the conversation cleaner. No reason Gwyn couldn't be safely ensconced in the most heavily protected part of the hall, with the rest of the non-combatants, keeping serving folk and the like calm.

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

(Yep, this is Month 2, before Gwyn left for Riverrun;
I got all meta and posted out of order ITS FOR EFFECT NOT BECAUSE I DIDN'T ORIGINALLY PLAN TO WRITE MORE. (^_^))

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