Chapter 120: Life as a new lord of Herrenhall
( Moon 284 AC .....A year after the Rebellion )
Lord Arryn returned to kingslanding and plunged into his duty as Hand of the king.
Thus he arranged Alan's departure to Herranhall,
Alan then started roaming around in his territory after being freed from the duty of the renowned small council, Him and a dozen of his loyal subordinates has been visiting as many of the villages, Towns, markets in his land as he can.
Meeting with his subjects and learning their living conditions and solving as many of their problems, taking tributes from his newly sworn noble houses notably the Wode,wyne,and some other knightly houses. And donating to those in dire needs along the way. Even helping them out with their field work here and there. Which also earned him much more popularity, respect, admiration from the people he is going to rule over. His status as a war hero, kindness and handsomely features earned him a lot of bed warmers as well.
Most importantly the purpose of his visits are letting his subjects know that their liege Lord has been changed from house Whent to newly made house Winter. No more house Whent. And their new master is House Winters.
The most heavy works him and his men had to do was clearing(slaying) out the bandits that's took hold in many places throughout his Land.
These bandits origins are not unfamiliar to Alan. Because these bandits are the ones that survived the battle of the trident and scattered around the river lands and making a general nuisance of themselves.
Though Alan feel bad for these men's , because they were abandoned by their lords and had no ways to return to their home country. And they chose banditry as their new occupation to survive.
Alan found men from every country except for the Westerlands. Though not everyone became a bandit ,some people chose to live normally.
Well, he only hunted down the one that truly committed crimes and recruited the good ones. Though not all of them joined.
some of those actually settled down in some parts of his land and joined the local community, and started living there permanently.
....
Sir Alan Winters rode his powerful white charger at the head of his caravan. His eyes fixed on a castle that dominated the lush green valley. The castle's tall walls sat secure and made a stone ring of imposing fortifications. Still, the young Lord felt unimpressed and slammed his inheritance. "To think I got this...abomination as my reward, No wonder they called this castle a cursed castle, It changed ownership Eight times now. The last time i visited this place as a tourney Knight but now I'm here to claim the damn thing as it's lord. sigh...I should have asked for summerhall..rebuilding summerhall would have been much cheaper."
"my lord?" Asked Claw clearly confused from my mumbling
"it's nothing "
~
At the castle's gatehouse Alan dismounted his horse onto the cobblestones, where he was met by the castle's chamberlain/Castellan ?. Alan looked down his nose at the skinny black haired man. "And you are?"
"I am Edmyn Rivers, my Liege it is i who send the message to kingslanding about the death of Lady Whent. I'm The castle's Castellan."
"So, you are supposedly my right-hand man?"
"I'm honoured to be so, my Liege." Edmyn did not possess the confidence to meet Alan's cold stare. "I run the castle on a day to day basis long before and after the tragic passing of Lady Whent. If you want anything at anytime, my Liege, then just let me know."
"Lord Hoster Tully one's told me that you could be relied upon."
"Then Lord paramount of the trident a man of good judgment."
So your one of Lord Hosters men who will keep an aye on me huh? Alan thought.
"That may be so. But I reserve the right to make my own."
-
A few days later...
Walking up the damp and drafty spiral staircase kingspyre Tower, Alan grumbled to his chamberlain who followed closely behind. "I've been on this castle less than a week, and I'm already missing the RedKeep." He heaved open the wooden door and stepped out onto the battlements of his castle. "It kills me to think that I'll have to spend my days here..." Letting out a desperate sigh, Alan stared at the rain sodden and tumbledown settlement. "...in fucking Herranhall" From here he can see the small town known as Herranton as rains pour into it...what a creative naming sense. And the castle has become a ghost castle, it was so lovely during the tourney. No wonder my wife Janna didn't want come, not even sending a single servant as well.
To be honest I don't blame her, In The capital there is no shortage of entertainment but the current status of Herranhall is suffocating. Even the village and town I passed by were much better.
"Such luck has made me believe that not just lord Arryn or my king Robert but the Gods themselves, hates me."
"Cheer up, my Liege."
", it's cold Edmyn. It stinks. And it never bloody stops raining for nearly a week and even then there's no sign of stopping, At least my subordinates are having by playing cards , i shouldn't have thought them.So I'm stuck with the tons of paper work and You.
Don't even get me started on you... You're as ugly as sin."
The castle steward chuckled at Alan's word
"My Liege, I'm a bastard of lord Walder Fray it's a common knowledge throughout the riverland."
yah I suspect it .
"And a good example of what I am on about." Alan turned to look out at the dreary thatched houses of the town. He shook his head while his nose caught the scent of manure. "Stinks, the whole place stinks of pig shit and dead ghostly dead even that town looks dead!."
"My lord the war had taken a lot life around here thus most of the works are undone,
But my liege, at least it's quiet. These people will not cause you any problems."
"I'm not sure, living in such squalor might make them desperate... and desperate men do desperate things."
Edmyn's face lit up. "Well maybe you could engineer a town in your own image? Make it a more comfortable place to live. If the people prosper then your tax revenue will increase."
"Certainly something to think about."
"Excellent. I would suggest starting with a place of worship, one worthy of Gods name. Closer to Gods, the townsfolk would be less likely to sin or stray."
"I was thinking less of a sept, more fully equipped tournament field." Alan shook his head while he watched a group of peasants arguing over the result of a pig chase. "People who think catching greased up pigs is a sport... Well, they obviously need to be cultured. I'm going to introduce sword fighting, archery and jousting."
"My Liege, Pig chasing is a popular pastime for the smallfolks."
"The only reason the men chase pigs, is that the hog is marginally less pig-like than the average local."
~
The wind blew through the grand banquet hall where Alan and Edmyn sat at the long oak table. A pack of hounds slept on a bed of straw in front of the open fire. Those hounds were gifts from lord Bolton. Though why did the leech Lord sent such gifts is beyond him. Though he vaguely remembers talking to the pale lord about some trade agreements about leather works. Maybe it's show of good faith, because now I'm a Lord and technically have a lot land, Bolton people needs food so a friendly relationship is always good for both of us. And I do need excellent leather coats.
Alan twirled his dagger on its stabbing point while Edmyn scrutinized the court's papers. Despite the fierce fire burning on the stone hearth, Alan felt a chill deep within his bones. He groaned as he stood from his chair. "Edmyn."
"My Liege?"
"Why is it so Gods damn cold in here?"
"It's rainy season and the citadel did not announced anything about the winter, my Liege."
"Don't remind me. That's a Stark thing" Alan walked towards the arrow slit window where an icy wind billowed like an arctic gale. "How come there're no tapestries on these windows? Only a fool would leave them wide open like the legs of a whore."
"My Lord you fought in the Rebellion and earned the lordship by your deeds."
"I did. So?" Alan is confused by Edmyn's choice of words.
"Well, it wiped out most of the skilled workers. Those who survived ran, never to return."
"Ah. I see."
"I've been searching the local guilds but found no weavers... None of note anyway. We need a mason and a carpenter too. I fear the castle will never be fully completed."
Alan glanced around at large stone walls which supported huge oak rafters. "Well, I need some colour as well as warmth. This constant blackness is crushing me. If I'm not always under black sky, I'm looking at four black walls."
"My Liege, Spring is only four months away."
"Four..? Four..?" Alan's foot twitched as he thought about kicking a dog. "Four fucking months?"
"Well Spring doesn't arrive until the last week in March. And that's being optimistic."
optimistic."
"Get me some tapestries. Immediately."
Edmyn let his quill rest in the pot of ink "My Liege..." He watched Alan shift the dogs with his boots so he could warm his hands near the licking flames of the open fire. "The best tapestries come from the Yi Ti. They're expensive to import."
"The northerners must have something to keep them warm... Well apart from getting drunk and then beating their spouses."
"We're not all raving alcoholics, my Liege."
Alan turned to face Edmyn. "Inform the stable boy to ready my horse, then bring me my cloak and sword."
"Where are you heading?"
"Going to see what one can purchase."
"On the Maidenpool?"
"No." Alan cracked his knuckles as if readying to punch Edmyn clueless face. "I'm starting to think my overlord employed the village idiot."
"But I thought you would rather die than mix with the small folk?"
What? what gave him that idea? I love smallfolks. I hate his face not everything around my 100 leagues.
"I'm bored and depressed. Seeing people worse off than myself... well, I'm hoping it may raise my spirits."
A few moments later....
Dressed in a wolf skin cloak, Alan rode his stallion through the dreary village. The buildings were tightly packed and mostly made from wattle and daub. Despite being confident that no villager would dare attack him, Alan's hand hovered close to the hilt of his sword. Not very long ago this people's lost their loved ones in the trident. And I'm one the supporters of The usurper so it's natural.
Crossing the wooden bridge onto the far bank, Alan noticed the once busy streets had emptied. The inhabitants kept out of his way. Young boys scurried down dark narrow side streets like rats, while mothers herded their children back into their simple houses. Those brave enough to remain bowed their heads in respect.
Alan saw something he wasn't expecting. Disbelieving, he wiped his gloved hand across his face. But his eyes hadn't deceived. "My God, she is beautiful." He smiled at the woman who shied away, it's been like years he could not tell that he received a woman's touch. then he shouted, "My lady!" But the woman ran through an open door into a ramshackle workshop.
Climbing from his horse, Alan winced as his leather shoes squelched in the churned mud. Guiding his horse by its reins, he slipped and slid across the road until he made it to this wooden building in which the woman had disappeared. Peering through the open window he raised a pleased smile. Inside the dimly lit room a thick-set woman dressed in a shawl sat at a bench, weaving a pair of trousers. But his eyes looked beyond the woman, focusing on the long tapestry which hung from a vertical loom. "Excuse me." The woman first appeared frozen in shock. She then climbed from the bench before curtsying. He asked, "Is this your workshop?" The woman's arm trembled as it pointed to a room towards the rear of building.
"I am only employed. Beatrice is the head weaver, my Liege."
"Then I want to see Beatrice."
A pretty face peaked around the wooden door frame. Quietly as a harvest mouse, she muttered, "I'm Beatrice."
A pretty face peaked around the wooden door frame. Quietly as a harvest mouse, she muttered, "I'm Beatrice."
Alan recognised her as the woman he had seen on the street. Her eyes were emerald green and he swore they sparkled like those of witches cat(AN:witches cat referred to one the brothels in kingslanding that offers verging Maidens). He then walked to the entrance and stepped into the workshop. He dryly smiled as the young woman cautiously entered into the room before curtsying. "You're too young to be the proprietor."
"It was my parents' business. But the plague snatched them. I'm in sole charge now."
"Not your husband?"
Beatrice shook her head while focusing on her mud covered clogs. "The War also took Herbert, my husband. He joined the prince Rhaegars host but never returned, We had been married only six weeks."
"My sympathy, madam."
"I'm not the only one who lost, my Liege. Everyone has been touched by the War."
"Indeed, I hear these lands were ravaged by the War. My chamberlain told me it wiped out half the people lives in it." Alan felt awkward as he didn't know what else to say. "Well, your luck is about to change."
"My Liege?"
Alan stepped up to the vertical loom causing the two women to disperse like timid street dogs. His eyes lapped up the elegant floral patterns, which were warmly coloured with reds and ambers Im sure Janna would loved such fine artwork. Lightly brushing his fingers along the fabric, he nodded with satisfaction. "Fine work, I may be interested. However, I'm confused. "
"My... My Lord?"
"Who could possibly afford such work in these impoverished lands?"
"Let me explain. We... we mainly produce simple garments for the locals." Drunk on a concoction of pride and excitement, Beatrice's tongue tripped over her words. "But... but every so often the Abbey will order a tapestry. If we're lucky they'll sometimes order three or four at a time."
"How come you have kept your skills from me? I could easily view this as treason?"
"Forgive me, but I have not. Your Castellan turned me away."
"Edmyn!" Alan thumped his clenched fist against the wooden wall "That useless shit wouldn't know a tapestry if I beat him around the head with one." Flexing his aching fingers, he shook his head while walking towards the door. "Girls... consider yourself employed." He glanced over his shoulder towards Beatrice. "Report to the guardhouse at sunrise... you have a castle to decorate."
"Forgive me, my Liege. But you're... you're not jesting us?"
"I'm from land far far away... I don't have a sense of humour. Now, I'm off to beat seven shades of brown out of my useless Castellan, Gods may have mercy on that Fray bastard because I'll show him not. Good day to you."
Once Alan had left, the workshop remained in silence for a few moments. Beatrice listened to the hooves of the Knightly lords horse until they all but disappeared. She then screamed, "What in the seven hell just happened?" Still screaming, she grabbed hold of her faithful weaver. "Matilda... was I dreaming? Tell me I wasn't."
"No, he was here. I witnessed him, dressed in his fine clothes and smelling of rose water."
"What are we going to do? I mean... he asked us to decorate his castle, did he not?"
"I've never been spoken to by a Lord before."
Beatrice sat on the bench seat, open-mouthed. "He spoke so kindly, and he's ravishingly handsome too... The previous lord Walter Whent was as a corpse. But this Alan, he's something else."
"Beatrice, don't get carried away. He fought for the Usurper and slaughtered ours and took all their land. He and his kind now tax us up to our eyeballs, keeping us locked in poverty. He is no better than any other Lord."
"I'm not stupid, Matilda." Beatrice stretched out her long sleek legs, scraping her clogs across the wooden floorboards. She placed her hands on her cloth covered knees and stared at Matilda. "But did he, or did he not, just offer us business? Lots of business."
"He did that indeed. But you know as well as I do... never trust a handsome lord. Not even a dead one."
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