Interlude MCCXXXVIII: Of Ravens and Pigs
Of Ravens and Pigs
Fifth Day of the Twelfth Month 294 AC
The ravens came slowly, first in ones and twos, then threes, fours and fives. Letters clinging onto letters, angry or apologetic, at times even half and half. Proud lords of the Riverlands did not grovel to clerks who still bore the humble names of their fathers. Of course, there were no Riverlands these days and not even the most stiff necked wool-witted fool of a knight would deny that Lorenso Cobbler held real power in his hands, in the tip of his gilded stylus, and so they asked for aid... about two months too late.
Now now Lorenso, they have been talking about brigands, vagabonds and trespass onto their lands for all that time, it is just that you have been ignoring it because it came out of the back end of a mule. The governor held his tongue between his teeth, the gesture almost but not quite painful. The local aristocracy complaining about movements of population was not unknown to him. When he had worked in the Office on Land in Tyrosh it was basically one step removed from magisters asking you to put the local freedmen back in chains so they will work the fields, so he had to send answers, conciliatory or confrontational, all of them empty, and he had waited for the first flurry of moves off the lands to die down. It would be likely much lighter here than in Essos regardless.
It did not die down.
It was only when a man with a pig came to see him, insisting that he show off the pig, that he realized what was rooting around under the surface. Ha ha, you should have been a mummer. Alas, the inner voice that sounded distressingly like his late father did not get any quieter away from Braavos.
The shift from traditional rights to the use of the forest for pig grazing, or whatever it was called, to paying tax to use those same woods had struck the local swineherds quite badly, leaving them to go off in search of greener pastures, or perhaps muddier ones. The trouble was that the idea of tended forests that would make a profit off rare woods was catching, and particularly popular in the region.
The troubles had come to a head when old Count Piper had been the last one to proclaim his woods closed to swine and dead wood collectors. 'The fey would do the job of warding away fire better,' he claimed and perhaps he was right, but that did not do much for the fire of burgeoning rebellion in the hearts of the small army of angry smallfolk, mostly pig and goat herders, who found themselves without recourse or sanctuary not far from Pinkmaiden.
Thankfully things had not degenerated into violence. Their leader, the aforementioned man with a pig named Chops, because of course he was, Westerosi mothers bearing some ill-defined malice to their offspring in Lorenso's opinion, explained that he was sure the Imperator would see them granted their old rights back in spite of the greedy lords.
"Like ticks on a sow they are, milord," the man finished his tale in the least welcome exercise of recontextualization in Lorenso's career. The lords had not done anything wrong, but there were thousands of people camped outside Pinkmaiden Keep alone and they were but the tip of the spear. There were likely far more people wandering the Gold Road even now and they were turning desperate. The lords might have their vagabonds and brigands too if something was not done.
Local Taxes
- Golden Mountains: 58 (Success)
- Greyport: 87 (Success)
- Midlands: 81 (Success)
- Hearthlands: 13 (Failure)
[] Direct them to King's Landing, with the improved infrastructure it should be able to hold them safely
[] Send them south into the rich Mandervale, the Tyrells will complain but they are politically isolated
[] Bid them go west into Red Lake and Greyport, the leadership of the provinces will not complain, though given unrest in the area the population might
[] Write in
OOC: This one flowed a lot easier than the previous update. Hope you guys enjoy.
