The Great Hall of the Red Keep was warm from the braziers that lined its walls, and the sll of wine—always wine—hung heavy in the air. King Robert Baratheon sat upon his throne with the comfortable slouch of a man who'd stopped caring what anyone thought of his appearance years ago. His fingers were wrapped around a goblet of Dornish red, and his eyes had that slightly glazed quality that suggested he was well into his day's drinking.
The Small Council was in session, though "in session" was perhaps generous terminology for what was largely Jon Arryn managing the realm while Robert sat and drank.
It was therefore surprising—genuinely surprising in a way that made everyone present sit up straighter—when Robert actually spoke, volunteering information rather than simply responding when directly addressed."Jon," the king said, his voice carrying the peculiar authority that only ca when he actually paid attention to sothing. "Did Ned reply to the letter we sent about the tourney? It's been far too long since I've seen my old friend. I want him here for the celebration. It needs to happen."
There was an eagerness in Robert's tone that suggested the matter was personal, not political. It was the voice of a man rembering friendships forged in war and bloodshed, relationships that had aning beyond the petty politics of kingdoms.
Jon Arryn set down his own cup and gave the matter careful consideration before responding. "Your Grace, a reply did arrive from Winterfell. I'm afraid Lord Stark has politely declined the invitation."
Robert's expression darkened. "Declined? Tell Winterfell that I am their king. When the king issues an invitation, it is not a matter for refusal. Send word that Ned is to co, and he is to co imdiately."
"Your Grace," Jon Arryn said patiently, "Lord Stark provided reasoning for his absence. The traditions of the North require that a Stark remain at Winterfell to anchor the house and maintain its authority. He feels bound by these obligations and cannot leave even for a royal tourney."
"Traditions," Robert spat the word like it tasted of ash. "The Northn and their obsession with traditions. Don't the Starks have three brothers? Surely one of them could maintain the castle while the others enjoy themselves. This is unreasonable, Jon."
"Lord Benjen has recently been elevated to lord of Moat Cailin, taking the na Moorstark" Jon replied, his tone suggesting he'd anticipated this line of questioning. "Additionally, young Robb Stark is far too young to bear the responsibility of ruling Winterfell in his father's absence. There are no suitable alternatives."
Robert leaned back in his throne, drumming his fingers against the armrest. The gesture was one of frustration, the behavior of a man accustod to getting his way finding unexpected resistance. But then his expression shifted, as though a new thought had occurred to him.
"What of Artos?" Robert asked. "The boy is formidable with a blade. I'm certain he'd jump at the chance to test himself against the Kingslayer and against Ser Barristan. That young wolf has more hunger for combat than any man I've t. Surely he could be spared for a tourney, even if his brother cannot."
In the chamber, two knights reacted distinctly to the ntion of Artos Stark's na.
Ser Barristan Selmy's weathered face softened slightly, and there was sothing almost wistful in his expression. He had fought young Artos during the rebellion, had seen the boy move through combat with a grace and ferocity that was unusual even among skilled warriors. There was respect there, genuine respect from one of the greatest knights in the realm.
Jai Lannister's reaction was more complex. His hand unconsciously moved to the poml of his sword, and his jaw tightened slightly. Jai rembered the young wolf—rembered his contempt, his willingness to threaten a mber of the Kingsguard without hesitation or apology. More than that, Jai understood that Artos Stark was probably one of the few n in the realm who truly respected Jai's fighting skill while simultaneously despising everything he stood for. It was an uncomfortable position to be in.
"Aye, the boy's a natural warrior," Robert continued, clearly warming to the idea. "He'd make for an entertaining tourney. And knowing Artos, he'd probably enjoy the chance to fight the Kingslayer here in the sight of all the realm. He never did hide his contempt very well."
But Jon Arryn's expression had beco troubled, and he exchanged a glance with Lord Varys—the Spider, as he was called in the darker corners of King's Landing."Your Grace," Jon said carefully, "there is... a complication regarding Lord Artos."
"What complication?" Robert asked, his attention sharpening further.
"There are rumors," Jon replied slowly, clearly choosing his words with great care, "that Lord Artos has left the North. The reports suggest that he abandoned the Stark na following a disagreent with his brother over the construction of a sept—a place of worship for the Seven—at Winterfell."
The silence that followed was complete. Even the sounds of the city outside seed to fade away, leaving only the soft crackle of the braziers and the faint scrape of a servant's foot against stone.
"What?" Robert said finally, his voice carrying genuine shock. "What are you talking about, Jon? Are we discussing the sa man? Artos Stark?"
"The very sa, Your Grace," Jon Arryn replied. "Or so it appears. The reports suggest that he and Lord Eddard had a significant disagreent over the building of the sept, that words were exchanged, and that Artos subsequently left Winterfell, claiming he no longer wished to be a Stark."
Robert set down his wine cup with deliberate care, the gesture of a drunk man trying very hard to appear sober. "Why wasn't I told of this? This is significant information, Jon. The fact that a Star has abandoned his house and his na is sothing I should have known imdiately."
"Your Grace," Jon said carefully, "initially the reports were unconfird. Rumors, essentially. No one could verify with certainty what had actually transpired. When I sent inquiries to Lord Eddard, he replied that everything was well, that Artos remained a Stark and a mber of House Stark by blood, and that such rumors were without rit. Given that denial from the source, I felt it premature to spread unconfird reports that could damage the reputation of a great house."
"You should have inford privately," Robert said, his voice taking on a harder edge. "I am the king, Jon. I should not learn of matters of this importance through silence."
"Your Grace," Varys interjected, his smooth voice cutting through the tension like silk over steel, "perhaps it would be helpful if I explained what our more reliable sources have discovered. At first, the reports seed rely the sort of wild rumors that circulate constantly. However, as ti has passed, certain facts have erged that suggest the rumors have a foundation in reality."
Robert gestured for the Spider to continue, and Varys inclined his head respectfully before proceeding.
"It is confird that Lord Artos Stark is presently in Essos," Varys explained, his pale eyes reflecting candlelight like a serpent's. "Moreover, he has established himself as a rcenary commander of considerable renown. The reports from across the Free Cities suggest that he has beco quite famous—or perhaps infamous would be the more accurate term—for his military prowess and his willingness to undertake contracts that other commanders find distasteful or impossible."
"Not surprising," Ser Barristan said quietly. The old knight's voice carried such weight of authority that everyone turned to look at him. As the most respected warrior in the realm, his opinions on matters of combat and valor were rarely questioned. "The boy showed exceptional aptitude during the rebellion. He fought with intelligence and ferocity both. I would expect him to excel as a military commander, wherever he found himself."
For a mont, there was acknowledgnt of this truth. Even Jai Lannister seed to nod slightly, as though conceding a point to a worthy opponent.
"But there is more, Your Grace," Varys continued smoothly. "Lord Artos—now going by the na of Hal in Essos—has involved himself in comrce as well as warfare. He has ford partnerships with House Manderly, facilitating trade agreents that have proven remarkably lucrative. Most notably, he was instruntal in securing Manderly's access to the Lysene aphrodisiac trade."
Robert let out a short bark of laughter that sent so of the wine in his cup sloshing dangerously. "The lad is responsible for the recent boom in brothel sales, then? By the gods, that's ironic. The young wolf has turned into a rchant peddling pleasure to the realm's whores."
"And more than that, Your Grace," Varys added. "The ad currently becoming fashionable throughout the Seven Kingdoms is also his creation. A specialty product that commands premium prices. From what our sources indicate, Lord Artos is accumulating significant wealth through these ventures while simultaneously building a military reputation that has begun to rival so of the most celebrated rcenary commanders in Essos. Of course that cos with the most expensive Contracts."
The revelation hung in the air like a blow that was still reverberating through those assembled. Artos Stark—who had left the North in anger and renunciation—was becoming sothing far more significant than anyone had anticipated. Not rely a skilled warrior, but a force of economic and military consequence.
---
Drop so powerstones
YOU LIKE THE WORK PLEASE SUPPORT 🙏
Please join the patreon and join the pack
patreon/Cregantheblackwolf
Thank you for your support and I am really grateful
User Comments
0 comments from readers