Re: The Sound of Wings (Semi-Closed)

[Baelon Drakeson]

[OOC: Ok, his will be one of those hand-wavy timey-wimey things... my post references something that happens while you are gone. Not really that big of a deal, I think.]

[Daveth Coldbrook]

[url=Awareness vs Baelon][/url]: 3d6 14

Daveth actually gives a small, wryly amused smile at Lord Baelon's side-stepping of the question, though he winces slightly at the mention of Ser Lorent Marbrand. He nods professionally at the end of the explanation. "
Okay. As long as I keep you and Ser Jorah relatively isolated from each other, so Ser Lorent doesn't seek to blacken his name, that shouldn't interfere with my plans too much."


He gives Lord Baelon a look, partly amused, partly sympathetic. "
You know, for such a likeable guy, you do have a lot of enemies. Don't be afraid to at least ask me for help if you're feeling overwhelmed. That's what friends are for, after all."

[Baelon Drakeson]

Baelon frowns a little.
"
To be honest, I was surprised to hear about Ser Lorent. The Princess does not seem to like me overly, but I doubt she would take any action. I suspect she is savvy enough to realize that I am a useful supporter, regardless of her personal feelings. Ser Lorent, however..."


Baelon shakes his head.

"
Regardless of his motivations, you are correct that it would probably be best not to have Ser Jorah and I seem particularly affiliated."


He smiles a bit at Daveth's comment about many enemies.
"
Most of my enemies have nothing to do with who I am as a person. It's more about the circumstances of my birth. Well, that's not entirely true. I could have stayed safely forgotten, a mere household knight at Dragonstone... but I chose to step out into the light, make a name for myself. That has to do with who I am as a person. Well, I'm not too worried about my enemies. I think I can handle them individually, and I doubt they hate me enough to found some grand coalition against me. And really, when I say 'I can handle them', I mean 'we can handle them'. It's good to have friends like you, and Gwyn... well, I'd be overwhelmed by trying to run this place without her. She really is amazing, in so many ways."


OOC: Daveth can tell that the sidestepping was quite intentional. Baelon knows - or believes he knows - something about his parentage beyond the rumors, but doesn't want to say what it is for some reason.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods in response. "
You're lucky to have her supporting you."
a quirk of a smile. "
And I'm lucky to have you both supporting me.

"
Speaking of her, shall we go see what state your lady wife has managed to get the hall in, now we've given her a bit of time?"

[Baelon Drakeson]

"
Hm. I think it might be best if you go without me... I don't think she'll want to see me until I've had a chance to clean up."


Baelon gestures for a page to come forward.

"
Roddrick, lead Master Daveth here to the main hall, please. Then go to the kitchen and tell them that we have a special guest for dinner tonight."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth shakes his head, irritated at himself. "
Of course, you're right. I'll see you again later."
bidding goodbye to Lord Baelon, he follows Roddrick to the main hall to meet up again with Lady Gwyneth, checking his hands to make sure no blood got on them from his examination as he goes.

[Baelon Drakeson]

(/leaves, may reenter later)

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyn meets him there in the main hall, as gracious as ever with a servant at her side, apparently in the process of going to seek him and Baelon out. She breaks into a smile on seeing him and says, "
Ah, there you are. Perfect timing!"


"
I'd like to show you the chambers we're preparing for our soon-to-be Maester. And of course, we have wine and food if you'd like something before dinner. I'm sure your trip left you hungry."


A rustle of fabric and she was at his side.

"
Was everything all right with Baelon?"
Gwyn asked, a hint of genuine concern leaking in around the courtly courtesy.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods. "
Thank you. That would be good.

"
And yes, things were fine. Your healer woman should hopefully tide you over until the Citadel finally gets around to actually sending someone to you. He mentioned a few things about how his side of things was going. How about you? How have things been going?"
he holds up a hand to forestall a response. "
I'm asking as a friend who's here to help. Believe me, I fully understand how difficult merely running a house is. I will not judge you if the starting of one hasn't gone entirely as smoothly as planned."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth paused for just a moment, then smiled and pushed a door open. Inside was a cozy room with a desk and chair, with the walls lined with shelves which were mostly stuffed with books. On the far end of the chamber was an open doorway through which some other furniture could be seen.

"
I can't claim it's always been smooth,"
Gwyn admits, "
But if it was easy, we wouldn't need lords and ladies at all. And yet, thus far we've managed to weed out the potentially large problems while they were still small. There are some tests looming on the horizon. I'll be going on a fairly long trip into the Riverlands soon, and Baelon will be handling things here. And as I spread word of Drakeson's goods, I'm sure it's only a matter of time before the bandits below, or some gang of pirates, decides it's worth testing our defenses to see if they can get a slice."


She guided Daveth into the study and stood back, letting him have his fill of the place.

"
But anticipating those things, Baelon and I are preparing for them. I think we should have them well in hand. One thing I could definitely use some help with however...it's taking some time to get a decent collection put together. Would you do me the favor of seeing if there's any glaring holes in our library? And perhaps you could suggest some contacts with providers? My own connections seem a bit awkward when it comes to interesting books of lore."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth smiles easily as he steps forward and looks over the books. "
You realise that you already pretty much match the Coldbrook library in size? I'm as learned as I am through swapping and trading the books I have, since so little money escaped the military side of our house. But I can certainly give you a few names of people who can give you a decent deal."
he pauses. "
Well, okay, they'll probably give *you* a good deal."
he throws her a smile indicating that was mostly a joke.

He starts looking over the books individually. "
Something I wanted to ask you, actually, about an unrelated matter. I'm heading over to Tullison lands in a month or so. I promised Lord Dunstan I'd at least try my best to cure his mother. I understand that you've spent a fair amount of time over there. I'd be interested in hearing your thoughts about the whole family. My dealings with them so far have been ... mixed. And I can't afford that while I'm their guest."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
Cure his mother?"
Gwyn lifts her eyebrows at that, then shrugs. "
All right, lets see. Bearing in mind that I wasn't an entirely welcome guest, I'll start at the top."


"
When I was there, the place was essentially being run by Yves, Haelis and...I suspect Theomore, though his hand was always harder to see. Dunstan has grown a bit since then, but I imagine he still leaves the machinery of politics to them. Though Haelis has departed now, their new Maester will undoubtedly step into his vacant shoes without missing a step."


"
Yves is protective. Of her brother, of her family. Even though you're there to help, you may get resistance from her simply because she doesn't want false hope raised. Her weakness is Dunstan himself...she won't weaken him by working against him, so if you have his support her hands are largely tied."
Gwyn gave Daveth an assessing look, and smiled. "
She may suspect you have a motive for your visit that you're not saying. If so, she'll likely flirt with you to try to get you to spill some secrets. She's quite pretty."


"
Theomore, you've met, but I'm not sure you know him. As smart and perceptive as Yves is, but thrice as cunning. However, I don't see you running afair of him, or afoul. His attention usually seems focused on matters outside the House. He seems to trust Yves to handle internal affairs."


"
I don't know much about their new Maester, unfortunately, so I can't offer much there."
She takes a seat at the desk and looks at the ceiling for a moment.

"
You're going to want to watch out for their captain of the guard, Ulbert Hite. He delights in shoving his weight around. Since you're noble, I doubt he'll be so crass as to offer you violence...he loves his job too much to risk it like that. But he will almost certainly find opportunities to try to physically intimidate you, or find ways to demonstrate just how much bigger and stronger he is than you. All in pursuit of his duties, of course. He's not stupid, but he is...fairly simple in his thinking."
Gwyn considers, then adds, "
He was good friends with Haelis, oddly enough. They played cyvasse quite a lot."


"
Hmm, who else... There's Ren, the smith...I don't expect you'll have much cause to speak with him. He keeps to his business, and expects the same of others. Oh yes, and the Septon!"
She smiled at some memory. "
Kind old man, but he'll as likely be out and about with the smallfolk as in the castle. He...doesn't hold the Old Gods in much esteem though, so be prepared for that if you do cross paths. He'll likely be nice about it at least."


"
That's all I can think of offhand, I hope it's of some use to you."


She thought about bringing up how many people had tried, and failed, to help Moiraine, but decided against it. Daveth surely had appraised himself of the situation before deciding this. He clearly felt there was some traction to be gained in the mere attempt, and it could be so. And it was a good excuse to get a look at the House and its inner workings...never a bad thing.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth nods and listens attentively as she reels off the information. Well, she's basically just told me she's pretty much my only shot at answering the question. Now the question is: do I dare trust her that much?

Do you have a choice, at this point?

"
Thank you. I think that's very helpful."
as he's saying that, he slowly reaches past Lady Gwyneth and slowly closes the door, leaving them alone, keeping his distance from her so the move doesn't come across as threatening or seductive.

When he carries on, he does so in a quieter voice, to avoid being heard by anyone outside. "
And actually, I am more glad than you can likely realise at how you described Ser Theomore. You see, I *do* know him, to an extent. But you're right, he keeps his true face hidden from most, so the number of people I can helpfully discuss him with are minimal.

"
I have one question in particular about him I would like for you to answer. I am aware that he considers the lives and suffering of smallfolk as utterly irrelevant."
his tone isn't angry or judgemental, merely stating fact. "
In your opinion,"
he trails off for a moment, then clearly gathers up the courage to continue, and he looks Gwyneth right in the eyes. "
In your opinion, could and would this antipathy extend so far as to seek to wipe out a family of ennobled smallfolk, one heir at a time?"

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Oh my, oh my...what have we stumbled into here...

Gwyneth thought about her next words for a moment, then said, "
It's a bit of a loaded question, but I'll address it first, then circle back. Is Theomore capable of such an act? Yes, I'm sure that he is. But the conditions under which he'd do such a thing are not exactly as you're painting them."


She got up from the desk. Not because she was uncomfortable, but because she needed to pace a little, to move around. It helped her think.

"
He always struck me as a very calculating sort, you see. He only takes risks after he's weighed them, worked out how to shift as much as can possibly be shifted, and is satisfied the reward is worth it. What you describe is quite risky, but has almost no reward. Satisfying any antipathy wouldn't be enough for that kind of reaction. Oh, he might take a certain pleasure in throwing up the occasional spike in their aspirations, when it was convenient and couldn't be easily traced back to him...but on the whole if it was merely a personal grudge, that family would have little to fear, I think."


"
When he becomes dangerous is when his House, his family, his people, are threatened. If this family of ennobled smallfolk were to demonstrate themselves the enemies of Tullison somehow, he would act to remove that threat. In all cases, he would enact the plan with the least risk, and the best chance of success as he saw it. That would generally mean a response commensurate to the threat. If those smallfolk were threatening the Tullison trade, he would arrange for their ability to do so to be destroyed. If they were making a fuss at the courts and causing trouble, then he'd crush their reputations there."


She paused, assessing Daveth carefully. "
I think only if he believed these smallfolk were planning the deaths of his family, and could not be stopped by any more certain, or less risky way, would he do what you are outlining. To that again, I agree that while he has little regard for the lives of smallfolk as such he also bears them no particular ill-will. If they are of use, he uses them. If they are obstacles, he removes them. Otherwise he largely ignores them. Like most nobles."


"
So. These ennobled smallfolk. Hypothetical, or someone I know?"

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth's hands slowly start shaking as she answers, his breathing becoming slightly erratic. Her calm, rational response exactly what he needed to hear - no protests that he'd never do such a thing, not even a great deal of surprise. Just a portrait of a cold-blooded pragmatist. The kind of man who would cheat out of habit, to make things easy for him, and in doing so could place his opponent in unnecessary danger.

But not the kind of man who would deliberate seek out and murder Joren deliberately.

*Something* within Daveth breaks, or loosens, or changes. Something he can't really understand. But he's suddenly aware of a tear running down his right cheek, and one on his left about to follow suit. He jerks around to lean against the bookshelf and hide his face as his mask completely collapses, helpless against a maelstrom of just-released emotions he can't process.

"
I'm sorry,"
he manages to mumble through his thick throat without turning around, suppressing an outright sob as he does so. "
I just need a few minutes."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Full of sympathy, full of questions, Gwyn nevertheless senses that Daveth needs respect more than sympathy, and so though she has an urge to give him a sisterly hug, she settles for putting a hand on his shoulder as she passes him by.

"
Of course. I'll be right outside."


And then she steps out of the study into the hall beyond and closes the door behind her.

It was a little unsettling, if she was honest with herself. Whatever lay between Daveth and Theomore was clearly very deep, and very painful, and that made things touchy. Daveth was a smart lad, but pain could make even intelligent people do unwise things.

She needed to find out just what Daveth had suffered, and how far he was prepared to go to avenge it, because even though she hadn't married into Tullison, they were enemies that neither Coldbrook nor Drakeson could afford to make. Especially given their cozy relationship to the Tullys.

As she waited, she caught a passing servant and asked him to bring a pair of glasses and a bottle of wine.

Gwyn had a feeling one, or both, of them would be needing it soon.

[Daveth Coldbrook]

After the door closes, Daveth moves deeper into the chamber, to get another closed door between him and anyone else, and he finally permits himself to lose his last fragments of self control, and just collapses, foetal, into a corner, sobbing.

For a while, he's barely aware of the world, sensations and visions of him alternately clawing at and punching the wall beside him not being understood at the time.

At a later point, he's not really sure exactly how much time has passed, his mind slowly returns. His fingertips and knuckles are scuffed, and some lightly bleeding. But more than that, mentally, he feels ... raw. He tries to place his fractured psyche together, tries to work out what changed, and he finally realises.

Time is moving.

Slowly, but it is moving.

The certainty that Joren's death was an accident - one rolled with weighted dice, certainly, but an accident nonetheless, combined with the knowledge that he didn't have a sword hanging over his and his family's head that could strike any of them anywhere at any time, freed something inside him. For the first time in over a year, he's no longer a scared 17 year-old boy frozen in time staring at his brother's body in a maester's tent, hiding under increasingly thick and effective armour. The pain of losing Joren was still just as strong, and his hate for his killer was undimmed, but now his mind had finally accepted that *only* Joren died that day. He wasn't some soulless cadaver animated solely by an excessive sense of duty. He still lived.

He *lived*.

Standing was a slow, painful process, like sloughing off an old skin. As he tottered into the main study room where he'd dropped his maester's bag earlier, he begins to realise the primary consequences of this. Fear. For the first time since Joren's death, he truly understands that his life has value beyond it's political capital. That he is more than a collection of skills and fulfilled roles that will be lost should he die. Were he the man who'd begun the tournament a month ago, he'd probably run back to his tower, lock the door, and hide away from the world.

But he wasn't. Not any more. He was the heir to House Coldbrook. The man courting Dyana Marsten. The man who swayed the Drakesons to his side. He was not going to run or hide. He was going to fight.

He couldn't do anything for his bloodshot eyes, but as he carefully wipes away the small streaks of blood that had somehow gotten just about everywhere, but fortunately didn't show on his dark travelling clothes, his brain has already started trying to solve the problem, the focus giving his mind clarity, and helping him piece his mask back together. As he cleaned, his mind started piecing together a plan to move forwards. To turn this fear into a new weapon.

Having rubbed soothing ointment on his cuts, and put thin gloves on to cover them up, to avoid upsetting Lady Gwyneth, he settles his mask firmly in place, gives himself one final check over for blood, and, finding none, opens the door outside, having no idea how long he's been keeping the lady waiting.

"
My apologies, Lady Gwyneth,"
he says as he exits. "
I fear time may have run away with me somewhat."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth smiles and waves the apology aside. She's empty handed...the delay had been long enough to steal the chill from the wine so she'd sent it back for the moment.

"
We're in no rush here,"
she assures him warmly. "
And your sojourn in our library was not so long, in truth. I know well how easy it is to fall into a book or two."


"
So, from here we could visit the kitchen and get a peek at what's being prepared for supper, perhaps sneak a glass of wine from under the cook's nose."
Gwyn smiled. "
Or if you'd like some time to rest, I could show you to the room I've had prepared for you while you're here. Or if there's anything you'd like to see for yourself, you have but to ask."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth gives her a small smile. "
Thank you."
his tone gently implying for more than simply making the offer. "
Sneaking away a bottle of wine and sitting down somewhere comfortable for a while, ideally in front of a nice fire, sounds like a great idea, to recover from the ride a bit.

"
Oh, and, sorry, but you'll probably want to send a servant to tidy up in there,"
gesturing towards the room. "
I think I may have scuffed the walls a bit."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
I'll see to it,"
Gwyn agreed. "
Come on."


She led the way to the kitchens, where the smell of roasting meat and baking bread was heavy in the air. The stairs down to the wine cellar were in the back, letting the two quickly slip down without being observed.

After selecting a good bottle, they went back up to a room that looked set up to dry hides or something. There were racks arrayed around, thankfully empty, and a firepit in the middle which Gwyn started arraying kindling on. In a few moments a good sized fire was going.

"
There's not TOO many private spots with fireplaces in the hall,"
she explained, dusting her hands off. "
The dining hall has a good ones, but there'll be a lot of activity in there. The master bedroom has a little one, but I'm not sure vanishing in there with you and a bottle of wine would be the best move."


She grinned and pulled up a couple of stools.

"
Not exactly the most lordly of lodgings in here, but Baelon and I thought enameling the hall in marble could probably wait until we were sure folk wouldn't be starving come winter, and we could hold our walls."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth gives a reassuring smile as he sits on the stool, drinking a bit more quickly than normal, to take the raw edge off his emotions. "
You've been here a month. No-one expecting miracles, and even then, it would be hypocritical in the extreme for a Coldbrook to criticise someone for attending to duty and martial matters over making things look pretty. I mean, it's only now that I'm heir and have more sway over it that we're seriously investing into even something as basic as our economic development."


He leans back, relaxing in the warmth as he gestures around them. "
So make no apology for this. You'll do us proud when you can. And in the meantime, I'll be trying my best to avoid letting you show us up."
a small smile to take any bitterness from his words.

"
Besides, this is nice. Warm fire, quality wine, good company."
he pauses slightly. "
And unless I miss my guess, probably a few questions waiting to be voiced."
he makes some kind of gesture with his hand. "
If so, go on. It's as good a time as any, and the worst I'm likely to say is that I don't want to answer."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

Gwyneth considers the invitation and decides to start small.

"
I gather there's some friction between you and Theomore,"
she says, "
The details of which are only relevant to me if they will affect my House. But as go the fortunes of Coldbrook, so too do our fortunes go. I'd be a poor Lady if I didn't ask if you're...planning something that might reflect badly on us?"

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth chuckles. "
Oh, well put. I chose my diplomats well."
he then sobers up and stares into his wine for a few seconds before answering. "
Firstly, I am well aware that we cannot afford a feud with the Tullisons. We almost ended up in one over ... effectively nothing at the tourney, and when that happened, I was front and centre in the 'peace at any cost' camp.

"
As for what I'm planning? That's ... harder to answer. I had a plan. Nothing illegal - daggers in the dark aren't my style. I was just going to expose one of Ser Theomore's crimes, so the world knew him for what he really is. Not the petty seductions or cheating, but the real life-destroying stuff he does. Ideally without my involvement ever being known.

"
But now?"
he takes a slow sip of his wine. "
Now I don't even know if I intend to do that much."
he pauses, then carries on, almost to himself. "
Every choice has a price attached."

[Gwyneth Drakeson]

"
I would urge you to consider not just the consequences of your possible actions,"
Gwyn said, "
but the intended aim. A wise man once told me to always plan not just for failure, but for success...lest it take you by surprise and leave you unprepared to take advantage. The aim here is to expose Ser Theomore's ill-doings...to whom, exactly? To what end? You might, I suppose, win some of the more conservative, more hypocritical knights and lords censure of him...but I suspect the end result of your risks and hard work would be a sort of collective shrug. The courts of the Seven Kingdoms are no stranger to underhanded dealings, and Theomore's plots are considerably less destructive than many. I'm not trying to tell you it's fair, or right...just prepare you for what I see as a likely outcome."


Her expression was sympathetic. "
You'll find little justice, or even vengeance, in the court of popular opinion, and even less in the court of law. And for that, what would you be risking? Not a war, I think, nor assassins...but certainly the alliance with House Tullison. Certainly many of the gains you've worked so hard to make for your House."


She paused, studying Daveth's face, then concluded, "
You haven't exactly asked for my advice, but I'll offer it all the same. The past is seductive, and like so many seductive things, it is a trap that can become an obsession. You need not forgive, nor forget, but focus on the future and its possibilities. Gain power and influence and respect. Build something magnificent against all odds and expectations. Let your revenge be to look down from your high towers as Theomore withers and fades away to nothing, as all men must in time. Sooner or later he will be his own undoing...a fate that comes to most who scheme in the shadows and a more poetic one than you could ever inflict."

[Daveth Coldbrook]

Daveth chuckles. Not the amused chuckle he gave before, rather a cold, bitter chuckle. "
What you say is something I've said to myself before. You know what the funny thing is? The really hilarious thing?

"
I honestly think I *want* to drop the whole thing. I can see this bright future in front of me where I lead my house to prosperity, I marry a woman who I think I could genuinely love, and we have children who I make time to help educate. I think I could be genuinely happy in such a life."
another bitter chuckle. "
Assuming we don't all die in a fire.

"
And all that's standing in my way is that my family and I need to find peace over Joren's death. Particularly my mother. I owe her an unpayable debt. But it's been over a year now and the *only* crack in the wall between me and that future was when you convinced me that my family and I aren't living under death sentences earlier.

"
Even if we're the only people in the world who give one solitary f- care over it,"
quickly catching his slip, "
exposing Ser Theomore was the only hope I could find of helping us to move on. *That's* what I w- what *we* need. What all this is for. Peace of mind. Else me and my family will remain as we are,"
he looks over at Lady Gwyneth. "
Each day dying a little more on the inside, until there's nothing left of any of us but hate and bitterness."


He looks back down at his wine and takes another drink. "
F- Sorry, it seems I'm a maudlin drunk. I probably shouldn't even have said all that to you. You should see your liege house as being a pillar of strength. It's just ... you're the first person I could actually speak about this with, well, properly. Ser Jorah is a great and noble man who I admire greatly both personally and professionally, but he acts like he thinks my emotions are something I can just ignore at will. And he really doesn't understand Ser Theomore, at all. You do. And I can't help but hope that, with all that you've been through, with all the hope I'm placing in .. well, all members of your family, really, that maybe you know of or could help me and my family find some path to peace that doesn't cut me off from that future."

[Sponsored content]