Canon Omake: The Traveller I
- Location
- Germany
The Traveller I
Twelfth Day of the Second Month 294 ACNo matter how old he had gotten, he always kept his fondness for the cold months of the year. Not that he enjoyed the snow, the biting wind or the 'invigorating' rides over frozen fields that his father has always tried to take him along to. No. To him, it was far preferable to sit at a roaring fire and enjoy the long nights far away from all that. And to read something while he was at it. There were far too many people around who could have done with less riding around the countryside and more reading a book once in a while. Which sadly included a lot of his own get.
But when the nights became longer and the linen cloaks gave way to heavy furs, then they had not much choice, having to sit with him at the fire and pass the time. It was in those nights that he had learned to read the people around him. He could tell what went on between his older sisters and their father, just by how he doted on the two of them. Or how he pointedly did not do so whenever one of them had displeased him. And when his cousin Addam came to visit in those times, his father always took time to talk about tourneys and bladework with the young knight.
People reading, that he had learned, was an even rarer thing to do then book reading, but this, he did not hope would ever change. The less they paid attention to what they said and did, the easier it became to understand them. Made it easier for him. He had done more for the house by paying attention and having a sharp tongue at the right time then all those fancy tourney knights could ever hope to achieve by waving their giant wooden dicks at each other. And he had made sure his own children would understand the importance of this. Or at least the ones who were not too dense for those lessons to stick.
It had paid off. Many of them were probably just waiting for the chance to piss on his grave, but that was a small price to pay. He had made sure that they got the right mindset right along their mothers' milk. That favour was not something you were handed, but which you earned. That you had to work for what you wanted. And most importantly, that there always would be a dozen others who wanted the same. What did it matter if they called him names behind his back when they thought he would not notice? Why should he care if they were eager to leave the Twins at the first chance? If push came to shove, his children and grandchildren still stuck together like a proper family, and he had made sure that he did not need to push every single one of them to make something of themselves. He had the proof of that right before him.
There was quite some irony in the fact that his father nearly lost everything when he got involved with a dragon claiming the Iron Throne, while he was already profiting quite a bit from a remarkably similar deal. The most immediate thing was that he had coin. Plenty of it actually. There were more then enough 'loyalists' around who needed everything from a meal to new boots and would cart a whole tax chest straight to his keep as long as he made sure they got it all. And these days, money bought more then food, boots and loyalty. There were far more interesting things to find among the goods coming from the east. A ring that let him coast by with two small naps day. A belt buckle that made him feel as if he was a spry young man of 70 again. Glass lenses from Myr that allowed him to read himself again, instead of having to cajole someone else to read to him like a helpless babe. Which was perhaps the greatest boon to him, given the number of letters he had to read these days.
No matter how far away they were, they all wrote dutifully back to him, sharing news from half a world away. What they learned in the Scholarium and which contacts they made. Little bits and pieces about the people close to the young king. Names and backgrounds of those who came and went at court. He had not even instructed them to do it, just that they should write him regularly, but a lifetime of conditioning made sure that they all tried their best to get his favour by being useful.
Even Fair Walda, no matter how much she despised him, wrote one every week and he had to admit to liking hers the most. There was just something about a boring, meandering letter written with clear spite towards the recipient that made him anticipate each of them like the pudding after dinner. She was a smart one, that he learned from her written words and all the little things she tried not to tell him, but of which he learned from the letters of others. In the Twins, she likely wouldn't have amounted to much, but out there? The girl would achieve something, that much Walder was absolutely sure of, especially with the company she kept. Luckily, she was a still a child, and no matter how much zest she had, experience would trump that every day. All it took were a few admonishments and complaints and she would too precisely the opposite of it to spite him.
With great care, but also violently did his quill move over the parchment. He had taken to reading and answering the letters deep in the night, enjoying the hearth of the main hall alone while everyone else was sleeping. Tomorrow, he would hand out those letters meant for the wider family, but now, he enjoyed telling off Fair Walda for bothering the Princess. Again. 'You spent so much time with her as if you were courting,' he wrote down on the parchment, not quite able to keep that stray thought to himself and neither the chuckle that followed it. The king was rather Dornish in these things, so he would likely appreciate the joke if he were to read that one.
It had been a while since he had a chance to play the great game and now that he was spry enough to do so again, he had to admit that he had missed it. Being a decrepit old bag of wrinkled skin and creaky bones had certainly taken a lot of the joy out of things. Maybe he would even get a chance to improve upon his greatest coup and get his son Emmon a nice holding in the Westerlands. Bless old Tytos for his idiocy. The only regret he had was that Tywin would likely not be around to witness the second time he screwed over House Lannister.
But those were matters for the future and he still had letters to write in the present. He had already heard of Black Walders lordship from Fair Waldas letter, but the details from his grandson just helped to further lift his mood. Few people, but wide and fertile lands and ample gemstones in the hills. Yes. There was no doubt that he had done the right thing when the young king had come to him. Now he just needed to make sure to capitalize on this and maybe see about getting some more lands for his other sons and grandsons. After all, Essos was large and his offspring plenty.
He was halfway through the congratulatory letter to Black Walder when he was startled from his writing by a knock on the servants' door near his table. "What is it?" He yelled through the wood, rather annoyed at the interruption.
As he stepped into the room, the servant bowed deep to him, apparently keenly aware of Walders displeasure. "My lord, there is someone at the gates asking for a bed and an audience with you."
He looked over to the glass window he had recently installed, letting in the pale silver light of the moon. "In the middle of the night? Tell him he can sleep in the stables for all I care. This is not a tavern."
Again, the servant bowed, but this time he also laid something on the table before the old Lord Frey. "He expected this reaction my lord and told me to give you this." A coin dropped on the table, made from purest glass and ringed by a metal with a violet sheen that few in Westeros had seen in person. Encased in the glass, seeming almost as if it floated in the air, was a crown before a crossed blade and staff, wrought from finest filigree of the same metal. It was not hard to recognize those three items after you had seen them for yourself. "He said that he apologizes for imposing on you, but that he had hoped to speak with you about shared allies and fortunes to come."
Carefully he picked up the coin, weighing the tiny thing in his wizened hand. "Show him a room and get someone in the kitchen to warm up some stew. Tell him I'm most curious what kind of fortunes he has to talk about."
AN: It's been far too long without some Walder Prime.
Last edited:
