You could see the relief in the wrinkled face of the old servant. -Oh, that's wise of you, Alwyn. Finally someone actually listened to this sad sack of bones. -He sighed deeply. -Well, I don't believe your brother will come back from the capital so soon, my young lord. But I also believe there is no harm in trying. Maybe he will listen to you, it all depends of what you will write to him. Now with your permission my lord, I will tend to other matters and send some servant to lit your fire. My lord can summon me anytime, or send a boy for me when finished the letter. I will have a rider to take it for your brother with haste. -The small whitehaired man made a reverence and took his leave, letting you with your thoughts.
You looked around, making yourself comfortable in your father's seat. It was not the throne of the castle, no, that was reserved for the Lord of Greenwalls and was localized in the great hall. The seat of the Gargon Lords was a mighty throne made of cold grey stone, carved with a thousand drawings of fish and seaweeds, with arms in the form of waves and a rising whale's tail as it's back. Your father told you that the first Gargon, Galrys, was a valyrian advisor of Aegon the Conqueror himself, and as a gift from the first Targaryen King of the Iron Throne he gained the castle of an old house destroyed in the Conquest. Your ancestor chose to keep the castle coat of arms from himself, and it is said that Aegon frequently flied to Greenwalls over Balerion to see his old friend. You wondered how magnificent would be to see the black wings of the huge dragon over the windows of your solar.
Someone knocked the door, pulling you from your thoughts. -Pardon, m'lord. Should I lit the hearth? -Gretch asked after you let her enter. She was a servant of the castle, mid aged and with a sad, tired look on her cheeks. While she rushed to lit the fire, you noticed that was raining outside, with winds hitting the wooden windows with increasing strength. You wondered how the fishers were at sea. It was not long ago that you were salling with Master Errol in the Mighty Gargon, the huge old dromond of your family, the biggest of your warships. Now all of them were destroyed, Whale's Wrath, Golden Flipper, Brave Argos and Arold's Mercy, all lost in the Blackwater. It saddened you considerably. As the room filled with the warm red light of the fires, you looked to the files and papers over your desk.
In the middle of book accounts, trade agreements, annotations and messages, was a small parchment with the handwriting of your brother.
It is with the heart filled of joy that I write this letter, for we won. It was a long night of battle, with our uncle Ralph guarding our Grace King Jeoffrey with other valiant knights in the walls of the port and myself in the Mud Gate, side to side with the greatest warriors of our time. The fight was heavy and plenty, and our house suffered greatly. Saddens me to say that our ships were burned during the night, and many of our men died fighting. But I knew the Warrior and the Father were at our side. My faith proved true, for Tywin Lannister rode over Stannis in the end of the terrible night, scattering his host. We won, brother! This is naught but the first victory over the traitors, hear my words. But for now King's Landing needs food as much as it needs swords, so I require you to order Symon to put a fourth of our granary and our stocks and to guard it. The rest is to be sent to the Redkeep. The mouth of the Blackwater is filled with wreckage from the battle and the decks are in ruins as are the shipyards, so the only option is the land. Captain Willem shall choose our thirty best men to escort the caravans, with a trusted name to lead them, perhaps Morson or Padrick.
Do send my regards and my love for our brothers and sisters, and tell our mother it won't be long for our father's bones to be brought back home.
Seven bless you,
From your brother,
Lord Alber Gargon."
While you were reading your brother last letter, Gretch asked permission to leave, and then you were alone. The room was warmer now, and quiet, if not for the rain outside and the cracking of the wood in the hearth. You looked to the feather and the ink at your side. Should you use this quiet moment to write your brother as Symon wished?
[OFF: All right, now you must decide: you will write the letter now or will you wait? You can use your brother's message as a base to how a letter would look like.]
With cold rain hitting your armor and your face, you pressed Sugar with your heels and your knees, pushing the mare out of the muddy trail before a hidden hole could break her leg. You rode for some time following the distant green silhouette of Garth, sometimes losing him behind a small hill or a big rock, only to find him again later, punishing his horse. Garth "guided" you over a stream, a passage of rocks and a field of crops. Captain Willem and young Meryn were not far behind you, the first opening his helm from time to time to see where you and the boy were.
You finally caught Garth behind a huge fig tree over a small road made by the farmers in the vicinity, looking at you with a white face. The tree was enormous, protecting you and your splinted mail from much of the rain when you went under it. Not far from there, maybe two hundred feet, was the small wooden shack of Jasper, the farmer, with some ducks nearby. A thunder roared in the sky as Ser Willem removed his helmet. -Damn you, boy! You should never ran like that again, do you hear me? I trained you better than this! -He shouted with cheeks red from the chase. But Garth didn't respond. His eyes were wide, looking to the farmer's wooden house.
-L-Larry! -Garth pointed with a shaking finger to the ducks, more precisely to a pile of cloth in the mud close to them and in the way to the house. -It's Larry! He was g-guarding the p-path! -Cried the young guard. Ser Willem drew his longsword, Meryn looked at you with this blue eyes. It took you some time to see that clothes in the rain were in truth a man, face down in the ground, his deep green cloak hiding his leather armor. -Seven curses... -Muttered Ser Willem in a low voice and vivid eyes.
You could smell Tom's breath as you lied to his face, and you could see his little eyes tightening as his mind processed this new information. For you it was easy to read his face, and momentarily his anger turned to sincere concern for his wife's well being. But then Norwell, that rat, spoke up. -Tis is a stinking lie, Tom! I saw them with my own eyes! The fool was giggling 'n playing with his many fingers all over your wife Tom! The bastard is probably holding you as the fool escapes! -The skinny man gazed to you with a malicious smile made of crooked teeth, and Tom suddenly was filled with rage again. -Out of my way! OUT OF MY WAY! -He pushed Meldred so hard he almost threw your surprised half-brother over a table, rushing to the stairs.
-Get them boys! -Shouted Norwell, and in a second the workers started flipping some tables to flank you and Meldred. Tanda yelled in fear and Norwell advanced trying to grab you, instead meeting Meldred's cold blade. -Oh no, you wont. -Said your brother, his sword tip touching the skinny neck of the rat. You stepped back, looking to the other two workers, who were now holding one knife each and trying to surround you and your brother. You knew Meldred could put them down easily, but you were made of softer skin. Now this was REALLY going to get messy if Eddard don't come with a surprise upstairs.
-Honey... I'm so dizzy... stop... -Dalla moaned and complained while you dressed her, or at least she tried, as she could barely speak, always thinking you were her beloved husband. Helping her to get back to the straw bed, you opened and looked her pupils, felt her heartbeating and you concluded she was just intoxicated. Heavily. The woman probably never have drank so much wine in her life, and how she is paying the price for the night of love you gave her. Leaving the woman for a moment, you started searching the room. You quickly gathered the cups and flasks of wine, throwing them outside through the window, to the rain and the mud of the tavern's backyard. Close to the window you found your purse and the small wooden box filled with maesters potions, bottles and medicines, and thanked the gods nothing was shattered during your little party with Tom's wife.
Suddenly you heard more shouts from downstairs, followed by heavy steps from someone in the corridor. Fuck, he is already here. You listened to Tom searching the other room, right next to yours, and you quickly reached Dalla, pushing your fingers down her throat. The woman gasped, starting to vomit right beforeBig Tom kicked the door flat, entering the room in a explosion of rage.
-DALLA! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING WITH MY WIFE!?