Interlude - Moments in Time III

7th Moon 139AD

Moat Cailin stood out amongst the vast, murky bogs of the Neck, stretching out all around the great fortress that served as the great gateway into the north. A fortress that had thrown time and time again, invasions from the south. With Moat Cailing protecting the way, armies did not just wander into the north.

Though she had stood for over ten thousand years, apart from the various moss that crept up its dark basalt curtain walls that would be difficult to scale up on, the fortress could be mistaken for being only a couple of years old. Twenty towers shot out of the ground, giving a commanding view of the causeway, the once great ironwood keep inside having been turned into one of stone. A number of other buildings were inside the fortress, less important but all serving to the function of the fortress itself, some of them being newer buildings as the function of Moat Cailin found itself changing over these past two decades.

For starters, Brandon did not think he would live to see a time when Moat Cailin had a custom's office for the merchants that would occasionally pass through the causeway by land to trade their goods either in the south or the north.

Someone came to stand beside him as he looked over the causeway that led into the riverlands. "I came to Moat Cailin once, as a boy. So long ago I can't remember how old I was. Perhaps some three-and-ten or maybe four-and-ten years of age, back then, the causeway was nothing more than a winding, muddy path. Now look at it, paved stone. I suppose if things do ever sour with the south, we just gave them an easy way to march their armies north."

It was true. The causeway had once been a muddy path that was nothing more than a sentence of death to any arm that came up it. The mud would pull and suck at the feet of the attackers, slowing them down some, but now, it was paved and timbered to allow the easy movement of carriages and wagons that plied their wares. Another little sign of trust and friendship with the north that Torrhen and Edmund had come to in some form of agreement.

"Just because it looks a little pretty," Brandon began, a spring wind passing through bringing along with it the smells of the bogs and swamps of the neck. "Doesn't mean it still doesn't do the job it was asked of it." he turned his head to face his guest. "Glen, I see you got fat."

Glen Manderly grinned at him widely as he patted his belly which had become bigger and rounder in the years that he had not seen him. "King Edmyn is a very generous host and then some. Wait some bit and you shall see what I mean."

He scoffed at that. "To be honest, I doubt I will be filling my belly like you. Some of us actually take our duties seriously."

"Ah yes, forgive me. I sometimes forget that in your old age, you are somehow still the Champion of Winter. I dare say, that doesn't bode well for the future if no youth has been able to best you yet in combat to take that title."

A wolfish grin crept up his lips, baring his teeth for all to see who dared to look. "Many have tried, even more have failed."

Glen looked at him for a moment and blinked. "How does that work?"

"It just does."

Glen made an amused sound at that and they stood in silence for a few moments, staring at the only road that led into the north and that would soon see them heading south. It was strange really, it was very rare for northern parties to go south without the notion of bringing true northern steel to bare on the southrons after one injustice or another.

"I have seen the party his grace brought. I know this entire thing is quite rare and something to make some noise over, but did he have to bring the entirety of the north's finest with him? And I'm sure I saw Prince Elric running around."

He wasn't wrong. Torrhen had brought quite the retinue with him south that would accompany the king south with him. Many of the lords held mercantile interest with the Trident and thus there place was assured, others were there to foster closer ties with House Stark. Knowing that his brother had consulted him and Hugh on the list of noble men to bring with him south, he still found it a little too much that the likes of Bennard Mormont, Ethan Karstark, Jorrel and Sarra Ryswells were amongst the company.

One he was particularly pleased to see on the list was Lawren Bolton. In fact, he quite hoped that the man of the Dreadfort would meet some quiet end for the shit he had been pulling over the past years. Even if his brother felt that inviting him on this expedition would mend ties. Or perhaps another way of making sure that Lawren doesn't try anything whilst he was away by keeping him close.

Brandon's mind wandered away from the company his brother brought to his great-nephew for a moment before smirking. "If he was making the lives of his minders a hell, then yes, that was most likely Elric."

"Ahh," Glen nodded as if he had come to a conclusion. "So the king means to hammer out some sort of betrothal then?" 

"Torrhen already has one of his children married to southron royalty. Another one wouldn't hurt as far as he is concerned. Especially with such a valuable trade partner." Torrhen had felt for some years now that it was about time that they made their little thing with the riverlands something more definite and what better way than marriage?

He had lacked the necessary children himself for such a venture, but his own sons had been more than willing to yelp out some boys of age with the last of the Tully daughters. Brandon himself felt that it was a good move to go for. The riverlands had been helpful in more ways than one and that. Those little seed drills of theirs had been more than useful in helping reap better harvests.

Though Hugh's constant advice against furthering ties is becoming more than annoyance. Their young maester had not at all looked pleased when Torrhen had floated the idea about, even less when they began to venture south. He is suppose to serve the interest of House Stark, not the Citadel after taking his vows. He had nothing against the young maester, but he was beginning to but himself more and more into matters of state that were most certainly not underneath his purview, like betrothals for starters.

Glen stroked the ridiculous pointed thing he called a beard for a moment before replying. "He might not be open to it. He married his daughter to a Harroway to further bind the riverlands to him and his heir is set to marry a Frey, though that might just be to make-up for the fact that he's destroying their monopoly over the only crossing on the green fork." he continued with a shrug of the shoulders. "Princess Triss might very well be slated for another such marriage."

"Marriages aren't the only ways to foster trust and good relations old friend." 

The Manderly knight and northern envoy looked at him with cool green eyes for a moment before a spark came across them. "Ahhh..." he let out, continuing stroke that absurd thing that hanged around on his chin. Was that pointed thing a fashion in the south? And here Brandon thought he had some hope for the rivermen.

The next day, they left the safe confines of Moat Cailin and began to make their way into the south proper. 

At the mouth of the causeway, they were met by a company of armoured horsemen in gleaming grey half-plate lined with red iron with the leaping trout of the Tully's coloured black. Red and blue and silver Tully banners and colours being held aloft, gently swaying in the breeze.

"Our honour guard." Glen had explained to him and the king as they took the van and began to lead the journey south. "this is King Edmyn's way of showing respect to us by sending his very own royal guard to accompany us south. Not many have the honour of the Blackfish leading the way."

The...Blackfish? He held back a snort. What a silly name. If it was meant to intimidate, it was most certainly not working at all.

"Or perhaps his strength." Torrhen countered in good natured, more amused by it all than anything else. "Was he worried that we would get lost?" 

Elric rode with his grandfather and uncle upon a small pony, looking enamoured by the southron knights on horse back. Bennard Mormont looked at them with a queer expression of amusement on his face. "With all these signs," he waved a hand at the side stone markings that showed how many leagues towards the Crossing or the nearest settlement. "You would have to blind more than anything else!" he finished with a roaring bellow of a laugh.

Torrhen took in the road that they were travelling on with the slight movements of his grey eyes here and there. Brandon could already tell what his brother was thinking. He meant to somehow equal the roads of the south with his own that were still continued to be built in the north. He could most certainly see the appeal of the roads themselves. They were broad enough to allow four wagons to ride abreast across its length, paved with rectangular stone curved slightly that water would be directed into the ditches that ran along its length.

As they continued south, they passed all kind of travellers, merchants travelling north to sell their wares there or farmers going about their business, that made their journeys up and down what the locals called the northern highway. "Edmyn actually called this great road that." Glen had corrected him. "He was the one who gave its name. I think he got the inspiration of it from the valyrian roads of Essos."

Merchants and farmers were not the only thing they passed, every now and then, they would come across a company of armed men on foot and horseback that patrolled the lands and kept the king's peace. They all saluted whenever they neared the procession of the honour guard and the royalty and nobility they protected.

"He has been a busy man." Torrhen mused as they spent the night in a luxurious room at one of the many inns that doted the northern highway, just two days away from the capital. They had made faster progress than he had thought. "Just some two decades back, Harren had a firm grip on these lands, but one lone fool took him to task, became king and made his lands prosper."

"Okay, so he's alright for a king." Brandon remarked as he took a drink from the wine that had been given to them. "No need to sing him praises. I think you do alright as well."

"Your flattery continues to melt my heart, brother. Do keep it up." he turned to face him. "And please, try not to start some incident whilst we are down south. This is quite the special occasion. I don't think in the history of Westeros had there ever been four kings underneath one roof."

"I'm surprised Ronnel even agreed. I would have figured that he would keep away as a sop to his nobles. Good for him to be throwing around his weight." 

Torrhen's face cooled some. "As long as he doesn't endanger my daughter and grandchildren, he can throw around as much weight as he wants. And anyway, he's no fool unlike his brother, he can see the opportunity this conference can mean for the Vale. I think many an agreements shall be hammered down between the four of us."

Brandon looked into his cup for a moment before looking up. "Hey, Glen says that the queen has great tracts of land, some of the finest he had ever seen. I say clearly his mind had been addled for too long in the south to not remember Alys Cerwyn's tracts of land. You think you can talk to him about that?"

He couldn't help but grin at the look Torrhen was giving him. He raised his cup to his brother for a toast and downed it all in one smooth motion. Sometimes, it was good to be the bastard and moments like this was one of them.