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The Traveller II
Twelfth Day of the Second Month 294 AC
The man that was led into his hall looked almost offensively unassuming. Just another scruffy traveller roaming the roads in these strange days, owning nothing except the clothes on his back and what he could fit into his saddle bags. A hedge knight without armour. The eyepatch certainly made him seem like oh so many down on their luck nobles who got cocky and paid for it. Maybe a sellsword from the east, given the vaguely glaive-like weapon on his back. Certainly, no one important or even all that worth the trouble to rob, unless maybe you thought you could sell the horse without too much suspicion. Walder Frey was not buying the act though. The man was too calm and too quiet, the only expression he gave an absent-minded stare that had the servant hurry right out of the hall the moment he had dropped off the tablet with the soup, the bread and the salt. That he had announced himself with a full Sovereign as a message was almost normal in comparison to his odd demeanour.
"Your message was received. Tell me then what kind of spook the dragon sends to me in the middle of night." While he spoke, Walder took a pinch of salt and tore off some bread for himself, the latter which he dunked unceremoniously into the stew before eating it. Then he pushed the tablet forward, gesturing to the stool brought up to the other side of the high table with his other hand.
Instead of bowing like a low-born would, the stranger just gave a curt nod to the Lord of the Twins, then quietly whispered something into the clasp of his cloak. Slowly the illusion rolled off the man, revealing a cloak of pink and crimson that was rather easy to place for anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention to things north of the Neck. "I apologize for the deception, Lord Frey, but in these days, one has to be careful who sees you on the road." His voice barely rose above a whisper as he spoke, placing his cloak and the weapon on another table as he did so.
The latter of which briefly caught Walders attention, what with it being made from ice, but that was something he would learn about from the gossip in the Twins sooner rather then later anyway. "Lord Bolton I assume then. Been a while since we saw each other." At the questioning look he got in return, the old man just chuckled. "Lonnel Reed was giving a feast when his boy Howland was born, and your father brought you along too. You were still shitting your breeches, so you probably don't remember me."
For his part, the Leech Lord did not deign the comment with much of a reaction. Both of them knew the others reputation after all. Instead, he silently took his own pinch of salt and bread before settling on the stool. "I would like to express my congratulations to your grandsons land grant, Lord Frey. It must be a welcome change to you to have a liege lord who appreciates your families loyalty."
Walder just smiled in return, silently wondering if Bolton was joking or serious. It was hard to tell with him. "It seems rumours are indeed faster then even the best raven." Quietly he mulled over who might have brought news to the Dreadfort before it even reached the Twins. A son perhaps? No. None of his had mentioned a Bolton in the south. But there was this one guest lecturer at the Scholarium that Fair Walda had nicknamed Creepy Walder for his alleged similarity to him and who allegedly was a Bolton man. He had to admit that he did not quiet knew what to make of this visit and that certainly rankled him. "Don't tell me though you came all the way to flatter someone you never met before for something happening at the other end of the world. What drives a northern lord to traipse around in the Riverlands in the middle of the night?"
"I am on a longer trip and decided to travel without any hangers-on. Mainly to take my son Domeric home, but also to meet with a few people of import, what with the war drawing on the horizon."
"Heh. War you call it. Won't be much of a war when most of Westeros is already washing up their dragon banners for the occasion." As the Leech Lord continued to ignore the steaming bowl in front of him, Walder tore off another piece of bread and dipped it into the broth again. No sense wasting good venison. "If you want to know whom to talk to, I know a few lads who can make introductions for you. Not everyone will be as kind as I am when you show up unannounced at their keeps."
"That would be appreciated, Lord Frey, but I did want to talk specifically with you." From his belt he pulled a scroll case, seemingly a quite normal one from lacquered wood as you would use to carry letters with you. When he sat it down on the table though, it clanked as if it was filled with iron and a few brief, whispered words, the cap came off on it's own. "You always had a reputation for being a pragmatic man and eager to take a good opportunity when it presented itself. I have a proposal that might be to both our houses benefit."
For a brief moment, Walder was torn between getting his reading glasses back out of their case for this or trying without, but in the end, he took them when he saw the fine writing on the parchments presented to him. And drawings. Certainly, the drawings were the more interesting part at the first glance. Some faceless things that looked vaguely like men, the finely inked lines showing muscles and bones cut apart. They were not garbed in armour, but the plates nailed straight onto the bones they were meant to protect. The other pages were no different in kind. Emancipated harpies. A giant wielding an axe as large as a man. "What exactly are those things?" He ran a finger over the image of a thing looking like a bloated firefly, beneath it an illustration of how it hurled itself at a group of soldiers who disappeared in a ball of flame.
"Soldiers, Lord Frey. Of a kind that knows no fear, no hunger and no tiredness. I have been granted a special dispensation to have certain practices performed in my fief and these are the products of these labours. Your grandson has been granted a fief with few who are loyal to him and far from any other city of the realm. He will likely find good use for warriors who cannot even conceive of betrayal."
"This is unexpected, I will give you that. Did not take you for a merchant though." With this, he rolled up the papers, handing them back to Lord Bolton who immediately put them back into their case. "What are you thinking about?"
"A letter of introduction to your grandson would be all I am asking for. I plan on building a proper harbour in my lands and would like to make an agreement with him. The Dreadlands will sent him soldiers and in turn, the riches of Omber will come to the Dreadlands and no other harbour in the North." He paused for a moment, eyes fixed on the older man before speaking again. "Of course, if you are interested in my offer yourself, I am sure we can come to an agreement too."
For a long moment, Walder starred back at the other Lord, only to scoff and shake his head. "Give it another few years and the boy will have all lords speak with each other like Braavosi fishmongers. I can see your point though. Spices and jewels from half the world away sound a lot more promising then trying to squeeze another groat out of the peasantry. The question is though, what is in there for me? I don't particularly need soldiers. I have plenty of those already."
Slowly the old man leaned back in his chair, mentally running up and down the wide hedge of a family tree that came after him. Lord Bolton seemed content to wait and so he took his time trying to remember how old that Domeric must be. He was fairly sure he had heard about him squiring at some tourney or another, but when? How old a girl would it take? But before he was faced with the prospect of having to gauge the likelihood of him cajoling Fair Walda into a betrothal, he remembered something else.
"You wife has been dead for a few years, right?" This time he caught the tiniest reaction on the Leech Lords face, but he did not loudly object, so there was no reason to not push further. "My daughter Tyta is not that much younger than you are. A maiden still. Had a mage divine it and she really is. Most think she is a bit dense, but I think she just plays at it to be left alone. I would even throw in a good dowry. Building harbours is expensive, isn't it?" By the end of his pitch, Walder was openly grinning. He had done this often enough to notice when someone was listening out of politeness and when they were listening because they were interested.
It was a quiet for a moment, before the younger man rose from his stool. "That is an unexpected offer, Lord Frey. If you don't mind, I would prefer to retire for the night before deciding on this."
"Sure, sure." Walder waved him off, the sly smirk still plastered on his face. As the other lord was already half way to the doors, he couldn't resists one last push though. "I'll make sure that Tyta brings you a hearty meal first thing in the morning. Can't let people think the Frey's are bad hosts," he yelled after him and the Northman seemed almost to stumble at that suggestion. It was indeed a good day to be Walder Frey.
AN: As much as things change, some things remain the same.
