15

Chapter Fifteen

Eastwood

Mid 57 AC

Aelon POV

I heaved a sigh of relief as I stretched my arms above my head and leant back in my chair. It was at times like this that I really regretted the level of bureaucracy that I had implemented in my fief. Dozens of reports lay strewn across my desk that had needed my personal attention over the past few weeks. I had no doubt that other lords didn't do even half the paperwork that I did and delegated most of the work to their household. Something which I also did to be honest. But even then, considering the sheer number of initiatives I had implemented since my ennoblement and the level of oversight that my obsessive self needed, such situations were sadly not rare.

Even with Armon, Elena, Warren and Serwyn overseeing several aspects of administration, my daily schedule was still a nightmare. The ongoing winter had not helped. Although considering the warmer weather that had recently set in, it seemed that Spring was upon us. Even though the Citadel had not yet announced it, I was sure that we would receive a raven very soon announcing the onset of Spring.

The past few years of Autumn and Winter had passed by in what seemed to be a flash. It seemed like just yesterday when Elena had informed me that she was pregnant at Ser Beric's wedding. A few turns of the moon later she had given birth to a healthy baby boy whom we had named Aethan, after Larissa's grandfather. A good name that honoured our Valyrian heritage. Little Ned had been overjoyed at being an older brother.

With less than two years difference between the two of them, my boys got along like a house on fire, you could rarely see one without another. Although both were still toddlers, you rarely saw one without the other. The two boys shared a room and any attempts to split them up resulted in tantrums the likes of which I had never seen before. They were adorable. At four and three years old, Ned and Aethan had already lived through their first winter and were strong, healthy lads. Something that I could not be more thankful for. Elena and I loved our boys to pieces.

And that had not been even remotely close to an end. A few scant days before the white ravens announcing winter arrived, Elena announced that she was pregnant again. Barely a year after she had given birth to Aethan. Where other houses struggled with having children, Elena and I seemed to have a never-ending supply of them. I nearly cried when Elena had told me that we were going to have another child. Partly out of joy, and partly out of terror at the idea of having another child running amok underfoot.

But then my little angel was born, and she truly looked like an angel, with her cherubic features, tufts of luminous silver hair, and bright violet eyes. Elena had insisted that we name her Alysanne, after the Queen. I had little reason to argue. Alysanne was a good queen, both from what I had observed thus far and from what I remembered from the books. It was a name our daughter could be proud of.

Never in my life could I have ever imagined that I would be the proud father of three children. And yet here I was. A family man. If only my family and friends from my previous life could see me now. My poor grandmother would be beside herself in glee, while my father would be nodding at me in commiseration. A soft chuckle escaped my lips at the thought. It had been more than a decade since I had arrived in Westeros, and yet, the memory of my family remained fresh in my mind.

"My Lord, is everything alright, you seemed lost for a moment," Maester Armon asked with concern.

I shook my head and turned my attention back to the ageing Maester. The passage of time was evident in the man's look. His grey hair nearly outnumbered his black and at near fifty years old, the Maester looked his age. Even then, by Westerosi standards, the man was healthy for his age.

"Nothing at all my good Maester just lost in thought. What were you saying?" I responded.

"A letter from the Citadel my Lord and another from King's Landing. It seems that Spring is upon us, and with it the newest addition to the Royal Family," said the Maester in his usual matter of fact tone.

"Well we anticipated the Spring, the weather has been indicative since the past few sennights, but news from the capital is always welcome. What have they named the child?" I asked even though I already knew the answer. Baelon Targaryen would after all one day go on to sire the next King of Westeros.

"Baelon Targaryen, my Lord. They are already calling him the Spring Prince," replied the Maester.

"Well now that Winter is officially over, I guess we can resume the projects that have been stalled these past years,"

"Indeed my Lord, although considering the length of the previous summer, it is surprising that this winter was so short," opined Armon.

And that was true. The general rule of thumb was that long summers were followed by long winters. And yet despite the previous summer and spring having cumulatively lasted for around seven years, the consequent Autumn and Winter had lasted just a little over two and a half years, with winter having been barely a year-long at that.

While others may think of it as a blessing from the Seven, I was not similarly handicapped. My knowledge of this world from my previous life made me cognizant of the fact that this was merely the calm before the storm. We were due for a short summer, followed by a devastating winter. This alone would have set the stage for famine across Westeros, but the advent of the Shivers would make the disaster even worse. A plague that would devastate the continent and kill hundreds of thousands of people, nobility and smallfolk alike. With three young children, and no idea how the infection spread, I was taking no chances.

"How goes the implementation of the latest health reforms?" I asked the Maester. These past years of winter, there was little that I could do in terms of agriculture and road building. Even whisky production had been kept to a minimum as I could not justify using massive amounts of grain to produce liquor when there was the looming possibility of a long winter. And so I had turned my focus on improving the health and hygiene conditions in my lands.

"Fairly well my Lord," said Armon, raising what I assumed to be a list up to his eyes. "The smallfolk are frequenting the bathhouses on a regular basis as they are slowly overcoming their fear of bathing. The Eastwood Municipal Authority is working overtime to implement the waste disposal edicts that you and Lord Serwyn have designed and the Clean Water Initiative that you have implemented has been very well received by the smallfolk. I have received a detailed report regarding the same from the EMA which I could pass on to you for your perusal," the Maester summarised succinctly.

I nodded appreciatively. After having worked together for nearly a decade, the Maester was well aware of my preference to read reports rather than receive oral summaries.

The knowledge that a devastating plague would strike Westeros in the near future kept me up at night. With three young children, I was terrified by the idea that any one of them could catch the disease. Accordingly, I had taken preventive measures. I had authorised massive amounts of public spending to construct bathhouses in Eastwood, Southwood, Daegon's Valley and Stormtower. With my men having perfected the technique of using concrete for the construction of buildings as well, the costs had been relatively low in comparison to what it could have been.

Building the bathhouses hadn't been enough though. There was a widespread antipathy against bathing among the smallfolk due to centuries of superstitious beliefs. Combatting that had been a nightmare. But I was making steady progress.

In addition to the bathhouses, I had also stepped up my waste disposal initiatives. Gone were the days when smallfolk in Eastwood would empty buckets filled with shit in the streets. A proper waste disposal system had been set up in order to dispose of garbage, excreta and other waste materials. Similar systems had been set up in the other towns in my fiefdom.

This served more purposes than just preventing my town from becoming the cesspit that was the future King's Landing. Human waste could breed and spread disease, while organic garbage would attract scavengers like mice and rats that could do the same. By keeping my city clean and beautiful, I was also making it safer against the upcoming plague.

I had briefly even considered building a sewage system for Eastwood, even though all my advisors had counselled me against it. In my stubbornness, I had even gone to the extent of hiring an expert from King's Landing and had paid through the nose for his consultations. In the end, however, his recommendations, albeit useful, ultimately stated that the cost of building a sewage system and maintaining one was not viable for a town as small as Eastwood.

Eastwood's population now stood at a little more than six thousand five hundred souls. Many had migrated during the winter seeking warmth and food, and some were expected to leave now that winter was at an end. But even then, the population of my seat would not dip below six thousand.

Much like my failed sewer system, I had also experimented with many other health and hygiene initiatives that had resulted in failure. But even so, I had persisted, pursuing riskier endeavours and initiatives in the field of health and hygiene than I would generally undertake in other industries. Becoming a father really skewed one's perspective, I had come to realise. And somehow, in the end, some of my initiatives had proven to be successful. The Clean Water Initiative being foremost.

Simple mandates for boiling water before consumption had been my first step. While these had been difficult to implement due to scepticism from the smallfolk, I had slowly but surely managed to ensure that the practice became widespread.

It also turned out that bag filters actually existed in Westeros although their usage was not prevalent due to lack of awareness. I ordered the creation of thousands of such filters, which cost me a pretty penny, but eventually, I managed to get the process streamlined. Heavy subsidies were provided initially to encourage their purchase by the smallfolk, but eventually, even the smallfolk began to see the benefits of filters and boiling.

While it was still slow progress, and I still was having to provide small subsidies for the purchase of filters, slowly but surely, clean water was becoming a reality in my lands.

With overall improvements in hygiene, sanitation and water quality, Elena had recently remarked the smallfolk actually looked healthier than before, and that too despite it still being winter. Armon concurred.

"Let us move to our agricultural industry then. With Winter now over, we should begin making preparations for the planting season." I said to Armon.

There was something deeply satisfying about seeing the tangible effects my reforms had had on the land itself. When I had first arrived more than half of the agriculturally viable land lay fallow at a time. With the introduction of four-field crop rotation not only had production gone up, but the land itself was more beautiful with carefully ordered fields whose changing colours marked the turning of the year. Watching the fields start as rich dark earth, erupting into green new growth, and then fading to gold as harvest approached, brought me a great sense of accomplishment.

"Aye, I'll pull up the plans that we had made when Ser Edwell last visited and disburse instructions for planting season accordingly," replied the maester. The plans in question that he was referring to were the final conclusion of the agreement for coordinating our agricultural produce that Lord Errol and I had arrived at all those years ago at Beric and Ceryse's wedding.

"Also now that winter has concluded, ensure that the consignment of the Eastwood Ploughs that Lord Errol ordered is dispatched forthwith."

"Very well my Lord," replied the maester as he dutifully noted my instructions.

With our Houses coordinating agricultural efforts in addition to our already voluminous trade, relations with House Errol had improved greatly these past years. While there was little crop growth in the winter, some areas along the coast where the weather was milder, did grow some hardier winter crops. It wasn't much, but even this had been coordinated with House Errol and had served as an excellent pilot program of sorts for us to work out the kinks and streamline the process.

Just a turn of the moon ago, Edwell had visited with a small contingent of administrators and experienced farmers from his lands and we had drawn up final plans for the coming spring season.

"Another thing my Lord," said the old maester as he was about to leave, "Ser Benjen has raised a request for the Southwood road to be extended to connect to his Keep again."

I paused as I considered the maester's words. Ser Benjen Buckler had proved to be a rather complicated issue. While there was little doubt that the man was an able administrator, he had learned that at his father's knee after all, he was also equally ambitious. Ever since he had taken charge of his lands in Durran's Rest, he had increased the tax revenues in the region rather effectively. But at the same time, he had constantly raised requests for greater integration of his lands with the industries that thrived in the other regions of Eastwood.

His lands primarily thrived on agriculture and related activities with some emphasis on forestry as well. While they were productive lands, it was a far cry from the wealth to be found in the other industries in Eastwood lands. It was this wealth that Benjen sought.

His request to have the Southwood road extended to connect to his lands was a no brainer. But the endeavour was costly and would not yield enough benefits to justify the cost at this stage. However, what had struck me was that if I extended the road to Storm's End, it would most definitely justify the cost. With Ser Bruce still serving as Castellan in Storm's End, he would be sufficiently motivated to urge Rogar to agree to my proposal, especially considering how much his own son would benefit from a road connecting Eastwood and Storm's End passing through his lands.

However, with winter ongoing I had shelved the idea. Even now, with construction on the road to Haystack Hall scheduled to begin very soon, it would not be the best idea to initiate another such project this early. While my cash flows were healthy enough, the financial strain of the road to Haystack Hall would be rather substantial. Adding another such road would dangerously stretch my finances.

"We can consider this at our next council meeting Armon. For now, let us focus on the preparations for Spring."

"Very well my Lord."

Eastwood

Mid 57 AC

Aelon POV

"Edwell for the Seven's sake don't put that in your mouth," I admonished my firstborn as I saw him attempting to chew on a pebble he had found near the stream.

"Sorry daddy," replied the precocious young lad, not looking even remotely apologetic.

I sighed as I picked up the lad and led him back to his mother who was currently wrangling our younger son into eating his lunch.

"NO!" cried little Aethan, as Elena sighed in exasperation as she tried to cajole him into eating his vegetables. That seemed to be his favourite word. His sister, little Alys, gurgled in happiness on Elena's lap as she reached for Elena's hair, seeking to tug at her silver locks as was her habit.

The sweet scene of my family enjoying an outing to the waterfall brought me a great sense of peace. Odd that, considering my children's varying attempts to make us go grey early.

Our family picnics were a small tradition that we had started a few years ago when we had just one child. We would make our way to the little spot by the stream where I had taken Elena all those years ago and would have a small meal every month or so. It had been a rather enjoyable experience with just one child, but with three children, it could be hectic at times.

Edwell had nearly given us both a heart attack the first time we had turned around to see him attempting to climb up the side of the falls above the pool. Thankfully, he hadn't gotten very high yet upp the water-slicked rock and moss, and was very quick to jump down when the shouting started.

Even so, I wouldn't give it up for the world. These little picnics were the only occasions I got to spend some quality private time with my entire family. Although with three children, we had taken to bringing the nursemaid along as well to help out with the kids.

"Wylla, could you please take care of Alys for a bit," said Elena as she handed our daughter over to the nursemaid. Wylla had served as nursemaid to all three of our children and was a beloved member of our household. With her greying brown hair, matronly figure, and kind features that could easily shift to a guilt-inducing frown, she gave off a very motherly and competent air that kept the children in line.

"See your brother there?," I gestured down the gravel shore to where Aethan was now pouting at what I assumed was the taste of the vegetables his mother had managed to feed him. "Why don't you go play with Aethan for a bit?" I cajoled my eldest as we approached.

The two boys were basically inseparable and it took little prompting before they were having the time of their lives playing together under the watchful eyes of the guards that had accompanied us.

I was quite grateful we had invested in a set of play clothes for them to ruin. They would certainly need to be washed once we got home, what with all the stains from mud and the various plants.

It was still a wonderful feeling to watch them scamper over the rocks and splash through the gently flowing stream.

I sat down on the rug, reached for the picnic basket and pulled out something to eat. Next to me, Elena shot me a grateful look as the children finally left us alone for some time. Parenthood was exhausting.

It had been nearly seven years since we had married, and our relationship was finally what I could call love. Not in the dopey way teenagers thought of it, which was really just a crush, but a genuine connection of respect and care. I was still rather ashamed of my behaviour and conduct around Elena, the first few years that we were married. But as time had passed, we had grown closer, bonding deeply over our love for our children and our desire to see House Eastwood prosper. I did also feel guilty about the various secrets I kept. Maybe this is what Ned Stark felt whenever he lied to Catelyn.

"I received a letter from Beric a few days ago," started Elena as we proceeded to dig into our meal. I raised my eyebrow at that. Ever since his marriage to Ceryse, Beric had been growing his wealth and influence. He had recently even completed the refurbishment of his seat, Morne, on the eastern coast, and now served as an integral cog in the operations of the Eastwood Tarth Trading Company.

"His wife has given birth to a son, it seems that with a second son, their line is rather secure," she continued.

"We should send them a gift to congratulate them," I responded as I took a sip of water from my cup. At Elena's insistence, I had agreed to reduce my consumption of alcohol to just twice a week.

"Already taken care of, I've instructed Warren to send it across with the next shipment to Tarth," Elena said as we watched Edwell and Aethan gambolling about. They seemed to be playing a game of tag on the other side of the stream.

I nodded at Elena's words, "Speaking of second sons, what do you think Lord Adam's offer to have his grandson fostered at Eastwood."

Lord Adam had written to me recently, requesting me to foster his Heir, Ser Walton's second son, Jon. I'd had little interaction with Ser Walton, who spent much of his time in King's Landing where he served in King Jaehaerys's Court and was thus a bit apprehensive about fostering his son.

"Well, Jon is nearly nine years old, which is considered old enough for fostering and it would serve to really cement our alliance with the Errol's. He could squire for Ser Morden when he grows a bit older as well," replied Elena.

The knight in question's dignity was currently being challenged by our rambunctious sons evading his futile attempts to calm them. It was funny to watch from the outside at least.

"I agree, but I worry that this might result in an obligation for us to foster out our children as well."

The children had moved on from their game of tag, fleeing into the stream to escape Ser Morden's failed corralling. They were now playing an even simpler game of splashing each other and anyone that came close. The happy grins on their faces were almost as bright as the water sparkling in the sun. They would regret it later when they had to ride home in wet clothes, but for now, it was nice to let them have their fun.

"As much as I don't like the idea of being separated from any of them, this is the way of the world, Aelon. We will eventually have to foster at least Aethan with one of our allies. Even Serwyn was fostered with Lord Wylde, brief as it was," she responded, annoyingly right as she always was.

Our little alliance had grown considerably over the past four years as Errol, Tarth and Eastwood worked together to achieve prosperity. But even then, our bonds were not as strong as they could be. Time and again over the past years, Buckler and even Lord Fell had made attempts to sow discord among us to breach our alliance. Fostering young Jon Errol would go a long way to tying up the few loose ends in our alliance.

"And with Lord Adam's aunt having passed last year, Lord Adam is now finally open to the more aggressive actions that we want to take. This is just his way of showing it," continued my wife.

Huh. That was actually a connection I had not made. Over the past years, I had realised that Elena was a rather shrewd political operator, being able to notice and catch subtle political plays that generally escaped my attention.

"I'll write to Lord Adam and convey our acceptance," I concurred.

"Mother is planning on visiting us soon as well," she continued, attempting to keep the statement as innocuous as possible. I saw right through it.

"How is she doing? The past few years have not been easy on her," I responded as I reached out to hold her hand.

"She's coping. Aunt Lianna's death hit her hard."

And wasn't that a punch to the gut? When news came that Androw Farman poisoned most of the household at Dragonstone, I had been struck with guilt. My knowledge of future events was not absolute and this incident had been something that had completely slipped my mind.

While the situation in Eastwood had been rather tranquil these past years, that was not so for the rest of the continent.

"The past years have been tumultuous, to say the least. I still can't believe that Princess Rhaena visited your mother on Tarth. On a dragon too! I imagine that your father must have shit his pants at that," I replied as she chuckled in response.

Elena had been heavily pregnant with Alysanne at the time and so we had been unable to visit Tarth to greet the Queen in the East, as she was called.

"I can't even imagine what she must be going through, Elissa Farman's betrayal, her husband's vile actions and then finally as if all that were not enough, Princess Aerea's disappearance and death," Elena said as she shook her head in commiseration.

"Aye, it seems that even in peacetime, death and tragedy follow the Royal Family," I said as I reached out to take Alys in my lap. Being a father, I could only imagine how painful it would be to lose one of my children. Rhaena Targaryen had suffered through that and then some. I had considered intervening in the situation somehow, but there had seemed to be no feasible way in which I could help prevent the tragedies that had struck.

Even despite my connection to the Queen in the East through Larissa, the Princess was rather reclusive and the Court of Dragonstone was not very open to outsiders. Eventually, I'd had no option but to let events play out as they had. However, if I had remembered that Lianna Velaryon would be poisoned by Androw Farman, I probably would have made greater efforts. Unfortunately, as the saying went, hindsight was twenty-twenty.

I had hoped to meet the Princess at Lady Alyssa's funeral, unfortunately, her body had been transported to King's Landing for her final rites and we were unable to attend as Elena was days away from giving birth at the time. We had of course still sent our condolences and regards. Alyssa had been Elena's great-aunt after all.

"Well, either way, you should write to Larissa, invite her to spend as much time with us as she wishes, I'm sure she would be overjoyed to spend some time with her grandchildren," I offered.

She nodded and gave a wry smile, "She's going to drive Serwyn mad nagging him about getting married."

I laughed at that. Serwyn was my age and yet unmarried. A major point of contention for his mother. The man in question was very against the idea of getting married. As the son of a second son, there had been little in terms of inheritance and lands for him on Tarth. However, that was not the case here. On many occasions, I had offered to have him knighted and granted lands, but he had refused me on every occasion claiming that his work in Eastwood was too important for him to take up his own lands.

The answer had left me extremely curious until I had eventually seen the signs that had somehow slipped my attention these past few years. Serwyn hid it very well, but it was clear that he batted for the other team. No wonder Lord Tarth had wanted to get rid of him. I had brought up the matter with Elena and she had spilled the beans rather quickly. Serwyn had been caught by their father a few turns of the moon before our marriage and had been on the verge of banishing the young man to the Wall when Elena had intervened and stated that she would take responsibility for her brother. My marriage proposal had neatly tied up the issue for House Tarth especially after I agreed to take Serwyn into my household.

Elena had been rather afraid of my reaction, somewhat rightfully so. Most Lords would be livid about being tricked into accepting a "sword swallower" into their household. Feuds had been started for less. Fortunately for her and Serwyn, I could not care less about Serwyn's sexual preferences and had made it clear to Elena that not only was he an indispensable member of our household, but somebody who I had grown to consider my friend and that his sexuality did not change that.

My relationship with Elena had improved greatly after that. While Serwyn and I had never spoken directly about his preferences, it went unspoken between the two of us that I was aware and didn't care. I could safely say that with that, I had cemented his loyalty to myself and House Eastwood even above that towards House Tarth.

"I still don't get how the woman still believes that Serwyn will suddenly turn a new leaf and decide to get married to a woman and settle down!" I said as I shook my head in disbelief.

Glancing up, I saw that the boys had grown tired and were now sunning themselves on a grassy patch of the shore. The two were pulling at the leaves and comparing them. The juice staining their hands with a green tinge.

"You mustn't underestimate a woman's desire to have more grandchildren. And somehow she's always believed that Serwyn's going through some phase of sorts and that he will somehow grow out of it," replied Elena in wry frustration.

Yeah, that was something I was not going to touch with a ten-foot pole.

"Well I doubt she will be happy when you inform her that we have decided to hold off on having any more children," I said as I levelled a knowing gaze at her.

"I can already imagine her reaction," Elena said with a faux expression of dread on her face.

After Alys's birth, the two of us had decided that with two sons and a daughter, our line was secure enough and that it would be prudent for us to wait a few years before we had any more children. I had been especially in favour of this decision because I didn't want to risk her being pregnant when the Shivers inevitably struck. Pregnancies and childbirth seemed to be the leading cause of death for the ladies of Westeros. After Lady Alyssa's death giving birth to Jocelyn Baratheon, I was taking no risks whatsoever.

Elena stood up and took baby Alys in her arms and walked over to the boys. The two of them were playing some game or the other but stopped and rushed up to her when they saw her approach with Alys.

As they crowded around her trying to catch baby Alys's attention, I did my best to etch the idyllic scene into my mind.

I really have become the worst sort of emotional sap.

Brownhill

Mid 57 AC

Ser Morden POV

As he rode down the path that led to from the seat of House Brownhill, he could not help but reminisce.

The eponymous hill from which his father's family took their name was the same as ever. Three of the faces had been weathered by centuries of wind and rain to reveal steep escarpments of dirt and stone, held together only by tangled tree roots. The Brownhills had been quite cunning to let their godswood serve as both foundation and defence for their home.

It had been decades since he had left the shadow of the small keep his family called home. As the Bastard of Brownhill, he had few prospects in life. His father was minor nobility, House Brownhill being landed knights sworn directly to Storm's End.

His mother had been the daughter of a merchant, wealthy enough that his father could not ignore him. He'd been well cared for and when he had turned three and ten, his father had arranged for him to squire for a hedge knight sworn to House Baratheon.

He had taken well to the sword and lance, earned his knighthood and acquitted himself well in the wars that had passed. Well enough to find himself in the service to one Aelon Eastwood, a bastard boy of another bastard.

When he had first met Aelon, he'd seen a wispy and lanky green boy, with weird sayings and unique ambitions. A young lad, who'd stumbled his way into Lordship, where no one had expected him to thrive. And yet somehow the lad had.

He had watched the young silver-haired lad, from the very first day of his service, dedicate every fibre of his being to becoming a better lord for his people. Every day he would work himself to the bone in the yard, get beaten down again and again, and yet rise to face more. And then after that, the lad would proceed to the Maester to receive his lessons. He had seen such single-minded determination before, from high lords, exemplar knights and seasoned warriors, but never from a lad of ten and three.

When other lads his age were playing in the fields and ducking lessons from their Maester, Aelon was attending council meetings, implementing bizarre yet effective policies and working day and night to better the lot of his smallfolk.

His drive had impressed him. He had little talent with the sword, and yet through hard work and sheer grit, he had become impressive enough to go toe to toe with seasoned knights like Ser Edwell. Armon would grumble about how a lad of ten and three would grasp within days, lessons that took him weeks to learn at the Citadel. He had known then, that Aelon Eastwood would go on to become someone great in the future.

And so he had dutifully reported it to Ser Bruce at Storm's End. Ser Morden was a man of his word, and he would honour his deal with Ser Bruce, keeping an eye on the young Lord on his behalf. But even so, for he had held back, reporting just the bare minimum, for as his loyalty to Aelon grew, each letter he wrote to Storm's End became harder to write, until the day when he could write no more. And so he stopped. For how could he spy on the man who he had come to see as a son.

He remembered that day as clearly as though it was yesterday. It had been a little less than three years after he had joined Aelon's service, and the young man had summoned him to his solar. He had offered him lands on the coast and arranged a dowry from one of the richer merchants who plied his trade in Stormtower in exchange for his hand in marriage. He would have lands, a wife and a House to call his own. In due time, he may have even risen enough to rival his own father in power. It was more than he could have ever dreamed of.

But it was then that looking into the desperately concealed emotion in Aelon's eyes that he saw why the young lord was doing this. He had come to respect and care for the elder knight. But he also knew he was a spy. So he was granting him lands for his service, but at the same time cleaning house as well. Shame had filled him. Knowing that in keeping his word to Bruce Buckler, he had violated his fealty to a man whom he had come to respect more than even Lord Rogar himself.

He'd turned down his offer and sworn to himself that he would dedicate himself to House Eastwood. And then he went out to the yard and drilled his men harder than he had before. He was proud of the small corps of men at arms that he had trained. Where once there had been but a dozen or so guardsmen better fit to toil in the fields, now stood a well trained and fully equipped unit of eighty soldiers.

Even the Eastwood Town Guard had flourished under his training before Ser Jarett had proven himself capable enough of managing them well enough. Aelon had entrusted law and order in his lands to him and he had taken to the task with gusto.

First with the men at arms, then with the Eastwood Town Guard and eventually even with the town guards in Stormtower, Southwood and Daegon's Valley. In the aftermath of the Buckler incident, he had realised his folly and proceeded to completely revamp the system in the past years.

While the original structure had not been bad, it had left a lot to be desired. He'd actually taken a leaf out of Aelon's playbook and adopted a more 'centralised' system as Aelon called it.

Not only had he audited and ordered additional training for the Town Guards of Eastwood, Southwood, Daegon's Valley and Ser Harys's mounted unit, but he'd also gone a step further and created a set of proper rules, regulations and protocols. Aelon and he had consulted Warren, Armon and even the Chief Magistrate in Eastwood and had together designed a comprehensive set of rules and regulations for the law officers of House Eastwood to follow. It had not been a great change, primarily better codification and articulation of existing practise, but the impact had been substantial.

Over the next few turns of the moon, complaints against guardsmen fell substantially and the crime rates slowly began to drop as well. It wasn't much, but even a small reduction was still praiseworthy. With Aelon's approval he had begun to centralise the system and with Warren's aid, created a system of reporting and bureaucracy to ensure better oversight from Eastwood.

Aiding in his endeavours were the newest knights sworn into House Eastwood's service, Ser James Potter, his former squire, and Ser George of Eastwood, Steward Warren's son, who had been knighted by Ser Jarett after he had acquitted himself well during the battle against the Bucklers.

Young George had spent several years under Ser Jarett's tutelage in the Eastwood Town Guard and Aelon had given him command of the newly formed Western Patrol Guard, which patrolled the western borders of House Eastwood. He had been given command of thirty good men and he had ridden out personally to oversee parts of their training.

Ser James Potter, oh how strange it was to say that, had been knighted by him just a year past after he had beaten both Ser Edmund Dondarrion and Ser Myles Estermont in the melee at Lord Swann's Tourney. He and his squire had attended in Aelon's stead and he could not have been prouder when he had seen his young squire skilfully beat down and disarm knight after knight in the melee.

While James had not won, he had made it to the final four and he had knighted him immediately thereafter. At the age of just eight and ten, the lad was a better sword than most knights twice his age and would with a little more experience be a demon on the battlefield. Harys had much to be proud of there.

In addition to James and George, two more hedge knights had travelled to Eastwood over the past few years and had declared their intention to swear fealty to House Eastwood. They had undoubtedly heard of Aelon's newfound wealth, power and prosperity and hoped to partake in it. They were also undoubtedly spies from either Storm's End or Bronzegate and yet Aelon had decided to accept their fealty. When he had asked Aelon why he had done so, he responded with just a simple statement, "Better the devil you know Ser Morden, than the one you do not."

His thoughts were interrupted when his horse suddenly stopped and he realised that he had reached his destination. He looked up to see the small stone keep where he had been raised and could not help but feel as though he was a child once again. It had been over a decade since he had last visited and yet it seemed like nothing had changed. The same walls, the same thatched houses that composed the village around the keep, the same dirt path and the same stench of piss and shit in the air.

The scene seemed surreal to Morden, who had spent the past ten years in the ever-growing town of Eastwood.

As the wooden gate to the keep creaked open, he saw his trueborn brother, Ser Adrian Brownhill, waiting to greet him. Adrian was just a few years younger than him, and as children, they had shared a good relationship. They had grown up together and he had always looked out for his younger brother. When he left to squire for his Knight his brother had cried for him to not leave and held him tightly. That had been decades ago.

Once the two had been nearly identical, sharing the light-brown hair, brown eyes, and harsh angular features of their father. Over the years this had changed somewhat with Adrian's features softening slightly from a more sedentary lifestyle, and Morden's hardening further from his harsh training. Morden also had a few more grey hairs, being the elder. The scar he had taken in one of his first battles that stretched down his face was the most obvious difference.

Adrian had grown into a good man and while they had met several times and shared many a good time together, time and distance had caused them to grow apart. And yet, they were brothers, and unlike most, Adrian had never looked down on him for his bastardy. Morden in turn was proud of his little brother for the fine job he had done ruling their home, and the family he had raised.

Morden quickly dismounted, taking his horse by the reins as he bowed to his brother.

Adrian waved him up and moved forward to clasp his arm in a strong grip. "Morden, brother, it is good to see you again. I only wish it were under better circumstances," his brother said as he enveloped him in a hug.

"Aye brother, tis good to see you as well. I came as soon as I could when I received your letter. How is he?" replied Morden as he met his brother's embrace.

"He passed last night. His body is in the Sept, Meryn is holding vigil" replied Adrian a flash of grief crossing his face before he quickly suppressed it

"Could you bring me to him," Morden said with strength despite the sadness permeating the air. His father had been a good man. Not the best father, but certainly not the worst. He had taken him in, cared for him, saw him educated and then squired to a good knight. Few bastards had been as lucky as him.

Adrian nodded his head sadly, "Aye, brother."

He passed the reins of his horse to an approaching stable boy and moved to walk with his brother. As they walked to their father's rooms, he cast his gaze around and saw that little had changed in the time since he had last visited. Stagnation, Aelon would have called it. A bitter chuckle escaped his throat. He had spent the past ten years helping Aelon build something beautiful in Eastwood. It had been his hope that one day he could show what they had accomplished to his father and family. Oh, how cruel the Gods could be.

"How did he pass?" Morden asked his brother as they walked across the familiar courtyard.

"The bloody flux. It ravaged his body over the past few days before he finally succumbed. There was nought I could do but watch," replied Adrian morosely.

"He lived a long and good life. The Seven will welcome him in the Heavens," Adrian could only nod sadly at that.

"How is your family?" asked Morden, trying desperately to turn the conversation to happier avenues.

"Well enough. Meryn was knighted a few years ago and now rides with Ser Ronnal in Storm's End. Cassana is serving as a lady in waiting to Lord Mertyn's wife. Sebastian is currently in his room. He's growing so quickly. You'll meet them at dinner tonight," said Adrian, smiling softly as he spoke fondly of his children.

He'd always been a good man. Ever since his wife had passed in childbirth ten years ago, he had become very protective of his children. Morden was surprised that he had let Meryn and Cassana venture so far.

Before he could respond, however, they reached their destination.

"I'll leave you to it then," said his brother with a grimace on his face.

Morden could only nod as his brother left. He took a deep breath to gather his wits and entered the Sept.

It was a large room, the dim light from the candles was aided by the whitewashed stone walls of the sept. The family sept had always been a point of pride for the Brownhills. Most landed knights couldn't afford a full sept, making do with small shrines or village septs, let alone one built of stone directly inside their own keep. The Brownhills could only do so after saving their money for decades, a perk to being such an old house. On the dais, set halfway between and beneath the stone statues of the Father and Warrior, decrepit, old and wrinkled, lay the Knight of Brownhill, his father.

"Father.." he struggled with his words.

Meryn, who was standing by his grandfather's side, turned at that to look at him.

"Uncle Morden…." he said as he stood to greet him.

"It's good to see you lad," He said as he observed the young knight. He had been but a young boy when he had last laid eyes on him. And now he was a man grown and knighted.

"Why don't you go and rest, lad. I'd like to have words with him," he continued.

The knight nodded his head and moved to leave, obviously recognising the need to give him privacy.

"He asked about you, you know, in his last moments. He may have never said it, but he was proud of what you had accomplished," said Meryn as he stood at the entrance.

Morden could only nod at that. Tears threatened to fall from his eyes as he struggled to maintain his composure. Meryn nodded back and closed the door behind him.

Finally alone, Morden knelt before his father's body and the tears finally leaked out.

"Oh father…" was all he could say as he knelt there alone in the sept.

The silence in the Sept was only interrupted by the occasional choked sob as Morden mourned his father. He recited his prayers, beseeching the Seven to grant his father entry to the Seven Heavens.

"I wish you could have seen it father, Eastwood, all that we have built. I used to dream of one day escorting you there, taking you to the town and the Keep, dining in the Hall with you and showing you the wonders that Aelon has accomplished. I like to think I've played a small role in that, you know," a strangled laugh escaped his throat as he took his father's cold hands in his own.

"You always told me that a knight is defined by his actions. I have tried to live by those words. I am not proud of everything that I have done, but these past few years, I have lived as a true knight, one that you would be proud of."

He continued kneeling. Holding his vigil as the hours passed. Eventually, Adrian returned to relieve him.

As he left, he turned one last time to see his father's body and whispered lightly, "Thank you, Father, for everything."

Brownhill

Mid 57 AC

Ser Morden POV

The past few days had passed in a blur. His father was laid to rest and he had done his best to aid in the days that followed. His father had been a minor noble, a landed knight only, but one who was well respected for his strength of arms and loyal service.

Lord Jon Mertyns had ridden from Mistwood to pay his respects even, for Ser Walter Brownhill had been one of his most faithful vassals since the day of his ascension to Lordship.

Quarters had hastily been set aside for the Lord of Mistwood and Adrian had seemed rather harried throughout it all. As was custom a small feast had been thrown after the seven days of mourning were done and Lord Mertyns had delivered a moving toast to honour his father.

As the feast continued, his eyes fell upon young Cassana, Adrian's only daughter. She shared their colouring with her straight light-brown hair and brown doe eyes. Thankfully, she had not inherited the harsh angular features of her male family members, having the soft heart-shaped face of her mother. At seven and ten, she served as a lady in waiting to Lady Mertyn. Despite her age, there were few suitors for her hand in marriage, for although his father had been well respected, he had not been very wealthy.

House Brownhill was an old house and for centuries they had served the Lords of Mistwood. But their lands were poor and with few resources. His father could ill afford the expensive dowry that would be needed to see Cassana married to a noble house. At best she could hope for another landed knight in Cape Wrath.

But she was a good girl, educated enough and well trained in etiquette by Lady Mertyns. Ser Morden thought that she would make a good wife to any young lad and for that matter, he even happened to know one who was young, talented and with good lands to inherit.

James was young, recently knighted and in need of a wife. House Potter was young, and a marriage to a House as old and storied as Brownhill would lend them the legitimacy they desperately needed. He had brought up the idea with Adrian and his brother had seemed overjoyed at the idea of marrying his daughter to a house with wealth enough to see his daughter comfortable.

For the past few years had been extremely kind to Ser Harys Potter. With agriculture booming in Eastwood and a road soon to be built from Eastwood to Haystack Hall, one that would pass through Ser Harys's lands, House Potter's wealth was growing at a staggering rate. Ser James was a bright young lad, an extremely talented knight and a close friend to the Lord of Eastwood. It seemed ideal. He would have to bring up the proposal with Aelon as well as Harys.

Even as the feast continued, he found himself in the company of Lord Jon Mertyns somehow and could not help but marvel at the fact. If such an occasion had occurred when he was a child, he would have in all likelihood not even been allowed in the Lord's presence. But now, having served Lord Baratheon for years and as Master of Arms to Lord Eastwood, he was conversing with the Lord of Mistwood himself.

"Well I must say Ser Morden, I was hoping that Eastwood Whisky would be served here at Brownhill as well, but alas it was not to be," said the Lord. They had spoken much of his late father and somehow the conversation had turned to Eastwood Whisky.

"Well Eastwood Whisky is a fine delicacy and unfortunately not something that House Brownhill can purchase much of my Lord, but I shall endeavour to make sure that Lord Aelon dispatches a consignment to Mistwood at the earliest convenience," replied Morden.

"Oh that will not be necessary good Ser, I have many barrels in storage currently. That whisky is really something. I drink a cup near every night and serve nothing else at feasts, the Red Label of course, though I do keep a stock of silver for my better guests. A strong drink fit for the Stormlord's, not like the flowery wine served by the pissants of the Reach!" he said as he basically spat out the last word.

"Aye my Lord. I shall convey your compliments to Lord Aelon,"

"A good lad that young Aelon, I have heard. They say he has a good head on his shoulders," said the Lord of Mistwood.

"He is a man grown and bloodied on the battlefield, my Lord, calling him a lad would be doing him a disservice," replied Morden defensively.

"Aye aye of course. I meant no disrespect. I heard about that little spat with the Bucklers. My boy serves as squire to Ser Ronnal at Storm's End. Told me all about it he did. Tell me, Morden, is it true what we hear about Eastwood, that Aelon Eastwood has miraculously discovered great wealth and prosperity in those lands?" inquired the curious Lord.

It was becoming increasingly obvious to Morden at this point as to why the Lord of Mistwood had sought his company. He took great care as he chose his words, "Eastwood is prosperous my Lord, Lord Aelon is an able administrator and has accomplished much in his tenure. If you were to visit, I am sure that he would be glad to host you and discuss possible trade between your Houses."

"Aye, but it is more than just that is it not. I hear that the fields of Eastwood yield a greater bounty than even those of the Reach, that Aelon Eastwood builds great white roads that run across his lands and that the smallfolk prosper and are healthier and better fed than anywhere else. Surely there is more to it than just able administration?" responded the Lord looking increasingly sceptical.

"You will just have to see it yourself, my lord. Eastwood has many things to offer to the Lords of the Stormlands. Perhaps when you visit, you can ask your questions to Lord Aelon yourself. I am but a humble Knight and am thus not privy to the Lord's business," replied Morden. A blatant lie, but a necessary one. Aelon did not like others talking about his private affairs, but he was always looking for new trade partners. He would appreciate opening avenues with Mistwood.

"My lord keeps his own stock of Gold Label for lordly guests you know," Morden winked, hoping to entice the old owl further.

"Hah! Perhaps I will visit then, Ser Morden, perhaps I will."