Chapter 95: Act 2: Chapter 35

Thirteenth day, Eleventh Moon, 258 AC (+38 days)

"This is a betrayal! You gave me your word!"

"My lord, I betrayed nothing. Other things came to light, and I could not, in good conscience, deny them. This does not have to be the end, Denys, merely the start of something new."

"New? New?!" Denys Dustin sputtered, his face growing increasingly red. "How dare you!? To suggest I start something new after you've stabbed me in the back! Thousands! Thousands of smallfolk you have stolen, and you do not hold to your side of the bargain! Thievery I call it!"

I frowned. "I recruited them with your permission, and the smallfolk have the right to move as they please. And you exaggerate, Denys, for thousands have not moved. My count has placed roughly sixteen hundred." I took a breath, forcing myself to be calm. "But please, I did not intend for any slights or insults; there was just the reality that I needed to form a closer relationship with my immediate neighbors."

"Against our agreement. You broke your word!"

"I promised to work closely with you, and I plan to!" I took another breathe, trying to ease the tension in the room where the two of us stood, alone, inside the Manderly's castle. "There are actually a few things I wanted to show you, some things that I think you will like and greatly benefit your House."

"My House?" he sputtered. "As if I would trust you with my House! You have broken your word and form yourself to be my rival! Do you take me for a fool?" he replied, growling the last.

"No, Denys, never that."

"You have no right to be so familiar with me!"

"Lord Dustin," I corrected. "I am not trying to rival you, or betray you; I am doing my best to make the North as a whole stronger – I care not for the position of my House so long as it stays in good standing."

"You are not trying to be my rival?" he asked, rhetorically. "Excellent, you are incompetent as well as an up jumped peasant. Lord Ryswell was right – once a peasant, always a peasant."

I clenched my fist as I tried to restrain my anger. "There is no need for insults, Lord Dustin. I have been fair, honest, and open with you. Mayhaps the original plan is no longer feasible, but that is no reason we cannot continue to have good relations and work with each other."

"Open? Honest? You are honorless - an oathbreaker. I know not how other distinguished Houses have yet to see you for what you are, but I see it quite clearly."

My back stiffened as I snapped back, "You go too far!"

"Too far!? You continue to steal my smallfolk! That is a direct attack on my House!"

"I have stolen nothing! Take back your accusations!"

"You form a rival block and weaken me, and you – you – tell me I go too far?!"

"I will stop my recruitment if you wish, but I have stolen nothing!"

"If I wish?" he replied mockingly. "I do not wish it. Nay, I demand it."

"Very well," I said tightly, controlling my anger. "I shall cease. But you must retract your accusation of thievery."

"Never! You have borne me too many insults – I stand by my words."

I scowled. "If you do not retract your words, and issue an apology, then we have nothing further to discuss – expect nothing further from me."

"I've made my choice, as have you," said Denys. "I chose to help you in good faith, and you chose to betray me. For now, all that is left between us is words – and that is more than I care to share with the likes of you. But if you continue to steal my smallfolk, there shall be steel."

"I have already said I will stop recruiting, but I shall not bar my lands from the smallfolk that wish to leave your lands."

"And they will not leave if you did not whisper lies and poison into their ears."

"We have nothing left to discuss," I said coldly.

I spun around and stormed out of the room, furious. How dare he? I had planned to share my machines with him, but he jumps straight to insults like a child.

A dangerous child, with swords at his command, but a child, nonetheless. Lord Stark would forbid any type of fighting, but the fact that Denys thought he could threaten me?

Bastard.

The Dustins left shortly after that conversation, well before Ryden and Alice's wedding – a deliberate snub. The Ryswells didn't even bother coming in the first place.

The wedding itself was a grand affair, with House Manderly flagrantly showing their wealth to all who could witness it. Major lords from all over the North, with a few of their prominent bannermen, were all in attendance, with a few favored guests from outside the North similarly invited – like House Blackwood and a few other trading partners that the Manderlys favored.

Ryden was as handsome as Alice was beautiful during the ceremony, though I had to hide my disgust at the barbarous bedding ceremony that took place over my objection. For all that went right, this trip still didn't feel like I was winning at anything.

Days after, Nyra confirmed that before the Dustins had left, they had done their best to smear our names and our House. The effect likely wasn't as effective as the Dustins would have liked, but it found fertile enough ground – especially among the poorer and more distinguished Houses who felt that I stood in direct opposition to them and did not like the shadow I cast.

I had never been the best at charming nobility, so my efforts were ineffectual, though Nyra, of course, had better luck. Better being a relative term.

Still, the wedding went off without any more issues, my House now tied with the Manderlys, and all the more secure for it. The fact that I needed the marriage to help my family still grated against me, but recent events made it an easier pill to swallow when it came to Arthur's upcoming marriage.

I had already sent a raven back to Sunset's Rest telling them to halt the recruitment efforts, but I could hardly stop word of mouth, so I worried that the tide of migration would not stop, and I would face Denys' increasing wrath.

Already, a village had sprouted along the Twin Lakes named Vakkerby, with Arthur's future castle, Silverhold, only a short distance away as it was placed over the silver mine. The salt mines had already been opened, and salt was beginning to flow down the river to the lumber camp, First Fell, as well as Osend – both of which were swelling in size as people began to migrate. Most of Koryn's family had been unable to make it to this wedding as they were busy overseeing both First Fell and Osend.

Arthur had come to White Harbor with a small guard, leaving most of the Rangers at Silverhold, but had left a few days after the wedding itself as he was swamped with work, but did not want to miss his brother's wedding. Arthur's own wedding to Branda Stark was to be in two months' time, which would be one month after Rickard and Lyarra's own marriage. 'Twas a season of marriage.

I'd also had another talk with Lord Stark, who had come for the wedding, about the direwolf situation. As per our letters, he was interested in seeing what would happen with the pups, and if the animals could be at least slightly domesticated. He wasn't holding his breath, but was hopeful, nonetheless. In the interest in transparency, I spun the story of how we found them so as to not entirely hide some sort of magic being responsible, but with enough vagueness that clearly warging wasn't the cause. I mean, there was no white eyes like the tales tell of, just a weird feeling of projected calm. Clearly, it couldn't be warging - perhaps a gift from the gods? Who is to say?

He was curious but found no fault in my explanation. Perhaps in time, Violet might wish to bring her warging capabilities to Lord Stark, but it would be in a manner of her choosing, with contingencies planned and dangers identified.

Finally, a week after the wedding, I found myself, alone, with Lord Theomore in his solar.

A servant poured us wine in some interesting, high-quality colored glass chalice.

"A unique glass, Theomore. Is it from Myr?"

"No, not from Myr. It actually hails from the Stormlands; it's called forest glass. These particular glasses were made from one of the most skilled artisans of the past few centuries, some forty years ago. The man is dead now, which is a pity as the new stuff hardly compares. A brilliant man."

"Forest glass? I'm afraid I'm unfamiliar with it."

Theomore chuckled. "I'm not entirely surprised – it's an expensive good, even if it is cheaper than Myrish glass. Unlike Myrish glass, forest glass is usually green, though sometimes it leans towards yellow. The Stormlands have been producing it for centuries – near a millennium - and although they have yet to make it clear, the quality can sometimes be comparable to that of Myr."

"Does it allow for glasshouses to work?"

"I don't know offhand, but I wouldn't think so. It tends to block quite a bit of light."

"Ah, something to ask the maesters then. Is it just the Stormlands that make it?"

"Aye, though my own House and I believe a few in the Westerlands have dabbled with it."

"You make your own glass?" I asked, surprised.

"Not anymore," he said, shaking his head. "Centuries past my ancestors tried it, and were successful, but the quality was poor and the cost high. Occasionally an ambitious ancestor would try to revive the effort, but little changed, and each attempt was met with failure to improve the process. Few lords were interested in poor-quality glass, and since the cost is so high to get glass of any type, most prefer Myrish here in the North – other than for artistic purposes," he said, pointing to his cup.

"A pity," I replied. "I could use glass – a lot of glass, even if it won't work for glasshouses."

Theomore took a sip of his wine as he thought. "I can have my maester look over the records and see exactly how expensive such glass truly was – I believe I should have a record somewhere."

I smiled gratefully. "That would be much appreciated."

"It is no trouble; besides, I am grateful that you are taking on a few of my cooks' children to learn some of your interesting foods."

I laughed. "Now, that is no trouble. The more good food in the world, the better."

Theomore let out a deep guffaw as his belly shook in mirth. "I'll drink to that!"

As we drank, we sat in silence for a spell, interrupted only by the crackling fire. It was late at night, and as the summer wore on the nights became colder and colder. It would not surprise me to learn that summer would soon be over.

The good mood was ruined as Theomore's countenance became more serious as he said, "Michael. I am glad that we are able to help each other – as family should. So, I don't bring this up lightly, but I am concerned you have been making mistakes – mistakes that harm your family – regarding Lord Stark."

"Oh?"

"How much did Lord Stark tax you on the mine?"

"Twenty percent for him, five to the King."

Theomore grimaced. "What was his original asking point?" I shuffled uncomfortably. Theomore sighed. "That was his original asking point, wasn't it? Why didn't you negotiate?"

"He was angry that I hadn't been forthright with him about my farming machines," I muttered reluctantly. I had no wish to revisit this topic.

"So? You still need to negotiate! He had no right to demand them from you! Do you think any of the Targaryen kings have ever demanded the secrets to forest glass from the Stormlands? No! They have no right to it."

I scowled. "And what was I to do? Deny the man who ennobled me? He was looking out for the welfare of the North and was angry that I was not sharing. Should I have cursed him for it?" I asked, trying to contain my petulance.

Theomore sighed and shook his head. "No, you needed to negotiate. He wanted what you had and had no right to it. When House Manderly first started mining silver, the Starks wanted a high figure as well. We were new to the North and had no wish to bite the hand that gave us shelter, but Michael, no one will respect you if you don't fight back. Not viciously fight back mind you, but more than just haggle. The North is a proud place, one that values strength. We were able to get the tax down to fifteen percent, and after a century, renegotiated it, after some great deeds were performed, down to ten percent – which is where we sit today, though it is split between the King and House Stark."

"But I don't have the strength to back up my words if I did argue! Lord Stark could have taken what he wanted, and none would gainsay him. Do you think the King would care, let alone hear of it? What justice could I expect? The man was furious!"

Theomore sighed once again. "I suppose you have a point, but that point is now moot. You are married into my family – you have allies. But Michael, I don't think you have a proper reading on Edwyle Stark. He is a good man, aye, and a good warrior, but he is, shall we say, manipulative? As he lives and breathes, he likes to control and move people about like pieces in a game. He is effective and good at what he does, but he can also be extremely ruthless. He will get what he wants, how he wants, and usually without anyone else being the wiser. It's made him a capable ruler, one who has seen the North rebound after the deadly winter of 230AC, but it also ruffles many people's feathers. Those who could have been his staunchest allies become slightly estranged. Edwyle would never accept a complete deterioration in relations – that would go against what he was trying to do – but he is willing to make the trade-off: good relations for a better North – especially for House Stark."

I gaped at the man. "That… that was not my reading at all."

He chuckled lightly. "Aye, few see it, but few also spend a lot of time with the man. His ennobling of you was a reward for your service, but Edwyle would never have allowed himself to be in a situation where that was the only option. He could have done many things, but he always chooses the path that gives him more options, never less."

"If he is so good, then I never had a chance of negotiating a lower tax rate in the first place – to say nothing of his other commands."

"No, you did. Edwyle is not some cold, calculating monster. He is a proud man of the North; if you stood up and demanded your due as another proud man of the North, he would have respected you more for it. But this brings me to my point, Michael. I want Ryden and Alice to stay here for the rest of summer and winter here as well. I will give him a proper education befitting a Northern noble – especially when it comes to dealing with other nobles."

I sighed sadly. "That will be the first time he's gone away for so long – but he's a man now, so I can't complain overmuch."

Theomore chuckled. "Aye, it's hard when your children leave, but trust that they can handle themselves."

"Very well, thank you for offering to host them, and teach Ryden."

"You are quite welcome."

"May the son ever surpass the father."

Theomore guffawed. "A great expression!"

The rest of the night was spent on pleasantries, and I tried to let the feeling of getting ambushed by my own mistakes pass me by and enjoy the rest of my stay in White Harbor.

I'd like to think I was successful.