Chapter 3 - Lyria II
Lyria
Balanced, yet solid, with a slight curve and sharpened to perfection, the dagger was a masterpiece. Lyria had never been quick to praise herself, but this once she had to admit that she had outdone herself. Though she had always been more comfortable with forging tools instead of weapons, this one would make her unsettling customer quite happy.
And then there was the sigil on the dagger, this odd, four-quartered symbol she had received from Wolfius almost a week earlier. It was that of a noble house, she was sure of it, but which one she could not tell. Though the finer details on it had been challenging, she was more than happy with the end result and undoubtedly Wolfius would be too.
Over the past week, she had not seen Wolfius even once, not even a glimpse. The feeling of being watched never truly subsided, but it had gotten a bit better. It was likely nothing and by now, she wondered just why she had been so unsettled by him to begin with. There was his odd way of speaking, this unnerving expression of his and, of course, the way he had looked at Rosalie, but so far he had done no wrong. He hadn't even been her worst customer, for at least he wasn't pestering her daily. No, she had finished his dagger, he would pay up and then they'd part ways. By now, she just wanted him gone.
A sudden movement in her peripheral vision made her tense up, as she turned to the small window of her forge, her eyes narrowed. It stood open as always, to cool the room at least a little bit. "Now, what are you doing here?", she mumbled to the large raven that had landed on her windowsill. Though sometimes smaller birds would land on it, they never entered the uncomfortably hot room and she had never seen an animal of this size just sitting there.
Somehow, the bird remained still, turning its head slightly to meet her gaze with one of its own and the intensity within it made her tense up. This stare was calm and intelligent, as ravens usually were, but something within it was almost… menacing? Lyria had to suppress the instinctive urge to reach for her hammer as she approached the animal, but today was not the day she'd get spooked by a simple bird!
"Shoo!", she growled, but the bird did not move. This surprised her, for she knew ravens to be curious, but cautious creatures. "Fuck off…", she mumbled, as she approached it, trying to shoo it away with a handwave. This time, the bird tilted its head, still not moving even as she almost hit it. Instead, it continued to just stare at her.
By now, Lyria felt a chill down her spine as she met the bird's gaze and this time, she actually reached for her hammer, with the animal watching her every move. The moment she touched the cold, comforting metal, the bird let out a sudden, high-pitched shriek that startled her with its intensity, before finally flying off as quick as it had come.
With an unnerved feeling, Lyria reached for the shutters, closing them for the first time in ages. And yet, she would not dwell on it. Who could tell what was going on in the heads of these animals? With a quiet sigh, she let go of her hammer. Instead, she reached for her masterpiece, Wolfius' dagger, taking it with her as she entered the forge's main room.
Her daughter was there, seated in her chair, legs crossed and eyes closed. It was late already and Lyria expected no further customers today, but still, she had hoped Rosalie would at the least try to do her work until she'd close the forge. Apparently she had hoped wrong.
She quietly approached her daughter, looking down at her for a moment, until it became obvious that Rosalie was taking a nap instead of dealing with any customers that might still find their way into the forge. As such, Lyria slammed the hilt of the dagger against the counter, right next to Rosalie's head, who awoke with a jolt. "What are you doing, young lady?", she barked.
Rosalie gasped as she opened her eyes widely, startled by the sudden loud noise, nearly falling from her chair in the process. "Mother!", she exclaimed. "I… I was paying attention, I swear! Just… resting my eyes for a second" She followed this up with a thin, apologetic smile, which Lyria did not reciprocate. While she doubted anyone had seen her, this would set a bad precedent. Her customers, even unannounced ones that came in late, were not supposed to be greeted by her sleeping daughter.
Under her stern glare, her daughter let out a sigh. "Fine…", she muttered. "I may have been napping, but it's not as if we're expecting customers. Not just now, I mean, but in general. There's a new blacksmith in town I should know of, or why is it that we've seen barely more than a single customer a day for the last week?"
It was true that there had been little business over the last week. Wolfius' coin however would last them for more than that, another aspect of this entire deal she found suspicious. And yet, she would not argue with her own daughter over this. "You have your duties, Rosie", she spoke. "I expect you to remain attentive even when there's little to do" Her voice was stern, but she knew she would hardly get through to her daughter. Besides, she herself felt some exhaustion, for she had spent the better part of the day working on Wolfius' assignment, glad to finally be done with it.
Rosalie looked at her, a brief smirk flashing across her face as she watched her mother stifling a yawn. "Sure thing, mother", she replied. "Can we lock up for today though? Seems like you're done forging the knife for that creep. Let me see, come on!"
She reached for the dagger, but before she could grab it, Lyria pulled back her hands, her expression stern. "Wolfius is a customer", she warned her daughter. "No matter his manners, you will not speak about him like this, you hear me, little lady? One day, all of this will belong to you and by then you must show some proper manners"
In reply, her daughter merely pouted, her gaze still fixed on the dagger, now examining the sigil Lyria had carved into the hilt. It was a masterpiece, yes, but something about Rosalie's expression grew more serious, a rarity for the girl. "You were supposed to forge that?", she asked. "For… Wolfius' friend, right?"
The tone in the girl's voice caught Lyria off guard. She seemed genuinely alarmed as she inspected the sigil carefully and after a few moments, Lyria freely handed the weapon over. Rosalie's eyes widened. "You do realise you just forged an Ironborn weapon, don't you?", she then spoke. "House Hoare, to be precise. The four symbols of their power back when it had been at its greatest"
Lyria let out a gasp. "What?", she growled, as she realised what this horrid man had made her do. Ironborn… Hoare Ironborn to be precise, of the same breed that had taken her husband from her, Rosalie's father. Had she known about this before, she would have rejected the order. "How do you know that, Rosie?", she added. "Are you certain?"
Rosalie gave her a firm nod. "Absolutely", she spoke, before a slightly sheepish expression flashed across her face. "Philip has shown me a book in the archives. The Heraldry of the Houses of Westeros. The Hoare sigil looked pretty, so it remembered it. Recognised it too and that here is definitely it"
Concern over her task quickly faded, as concern for her daughter overcame her. "Philip? Philip Loren?", she spat. "I think I told you to stay away from that… scoundrel! What did he want from you?"
Rosalie gulped, as she cowered back in her chair. "Nothing of the sort, I promise!", the girl was quick to reply. "I asked him to show me the archive and he did. He was nice and kind and polite and he kept me at an arm's length"
Somehow, Lyria found that hard to believe. "That is not a good man to be around. He is twice your age and I don't trust him", she growled. "Stay away from him, Rosalie. I mean it!" Her husband would have told her not to worry now, but that was easier said than done. Her daughter was a comely girl and of the right age. She already had a fair share of admirers and Lyria dreaded the day Rosalie would realise it, truly realise how men looked at her. Philip Loren was but one of them. He was Richard's friend, but that was about the only good quality of his. She did not trust him.
It was then that a sudden sound reached the blacksmith's ear. Rosalie got outright startled by it, but Lyria remained calm, as a knock on the door echoed through the room. "We're open, come on in!", Lyria exclaimed, but oddly enough, nobody actually followed her invitation. And yet, she saw the faintest outline of a shadow beneath the doorframe. Immediately, she tensed up and reached for Wolfius' dagger.
"Shouldn't you be… checking on them?", Rosalie asked, her voice one of slight hesitation. She rose from her chair and retreated behind the counter, her gaze fixed on the door. Lyria felt it too, a creeping chill down her spine and she could not grudge her daughter for leaving her side.
"This talk is not over, young lady", she hissed, before she steeled herself. She was Lyria Mettel after all, the blacksmith of Raylansfair. She would not be intimidated by a customer in her own forge, even if she already had a creeping suspicion who this could be. As such, she approached the door, dagger in hand, but without raising the weapon. The moment she reached the door, the shadow beneath it disappeared and when she opened it, she saw no one outside, nothing but an empty alleyway shrouded in the shadows of the setting sun.
"Hello?", she asked, her voice loud and firm, as her fingers wandered over the hilt of the dagger. She felt a deep disgust at the sigil she had been made to carve into that blasted thing. It had been an Ironborn raider who had taken her husband from them and now she had unknowingly forged a weapon with the sigil of the Ironborn king on it. It was distasteful and the implications were even worse, for what could Wolfius possibly intend with a Hoare dagger?
She took one step out the door, glancing to her left, then her right, her eyes scanning the shadows. This time, she nearly flinched as she spotted a lean figure in the darkness, calmly observing her, but she suppressed the urge and straightened her back, as the figure approached her.
"Hello blacksmith Mettel", Wolfius Woodbark spoke, his tone calm, polite and as eerie as before. He had a smile on his face, or at least what might pass as a smile, one that did not reach his eyes. "I believe you have finished your work for me, haven't you?" This was no mere guess and he had come here by chance. There was confidence in his tone and that was what unsettled Lyria the most.
"As a matter of fact, I do", she replied firmly, refusing to show her growing uneasiness. It seemed he had been spying on her after all and the fact that she had not even noticed it made it all the more eerie. "How did you know?"
Wolfius shrugged nonchalantly. "Call it a hunch", he claimed. "What matters is that I am here now and ready to finish our transaction" He moved closer and Lyria suppressed the urge to point the dagger at him blade first. Something about his gait was downright predatory and the way he looked at her was deeply unsettling.
Then, however, she twisted the dagger slightly, pointing it at him hilt first, her fingers brushing over the sigil and her eyes narrowed. "Here it is", she growled. "But I believe you owe me an explanation. I wasn't aware you were making me craft a Hoare sigil"
For a second, Wolfius seemed genuinely surprised, his unsettling expression giving way to honest confusion. "I did not think it'd be an issue", he admitted. "Your kingdom is not at war with the Ironborn. As for my reasons… this is supposed to be a gift for a dear friend of mine. May I see?" He reached for the dagger with a surprising gentleness to each touch, grabbing the hilt the way others would touch a priceless work of art, as he brought the whole weapon close to his face.
"He remained that way for a moment, inspecting the weapon carefully, as his uncanny smile returned, wide and in full force. Something within his pale eyes seemed genuinely pleased. "Good… very good. Wonderful work, my dearest blacksmith Mettel", he hissed and his free hand wandered into his overcoat where briefly, Lyria saw the flash of steel. Not for the first time she wished for her trusty hammer. "I do guess I owe you a reward"
Then, not without glee, Wolfius pulled out a thick leather purse, which he casually threw over to her, clearly amused by her unsettled reaction. "Fifty golden hands", he stated, followed by a howling chuckle. "Don't try to look so surprised. What were you thinking? That I would betray our agreement?" He shook his head. "I am a man of my word, blacksmith Mettel. I believe in honesty in all of my business matters"
Lyria opened the purse, her eyes widening as she saw actual golden coins. This was what she made in a year and he gave it to her for a single dagger. It was too much, suspiciously so. "That is…", she began, but Wolfius cut her off with a slight smirk.
"Too much?", he replied. "More than we agreed upon? Yes, you are quite right of course" He took a step closer and by now he was by far too close for her comfort. Subtly, Lyria tried to glance to the left and right to see if anyone else was near. But the alleyway in which her forge was located as quiet and empty. Wolfius caught her gaze and his smirk grew thinner. "I want you to remain quiet about all of this. This is very important to me. Not a word to anyone about the details of our business nor about me. You can do that, can't you? For you, for me, for little Rosie"
As he said these words, her eyes widened in sudden terror mixed with anger, an expression so fierce that the lean man immediately leapt back. Rosie… it was what she called her daughter in private. Never before strangers. He had been spying on her indeed and all of this had been a not so subtle threat. Still, he was armed and she was all alone. As such, she gave him a reluctant nod.
Wolfius' expression grew entirely stern and serious and somehow, this was worse than his unsettling smile. "Good, I believe you", he stated, his voice firm and cold. "Stay true to your word and I might have more assignments for you in the future. I am always in need of someone who knows her craft as well as you do" As he said these words, he presented the dagger once more, his expression still cold, but not deeply and genuinely pleased. He took an impeccable bow in front of her, as well as any courtier of Lord Raylan would have done. "Now I will take my leave", he assured her. "Good night, blacksmith Mettel and… sleep well"
He left as quickly as he had come, leaving behind a very unsettled Lyria. For asecond, she remained that way, looking after him, worried that he would turn around after all. His lean silhouette merged with the shadows of the buildings around him as he walked down the street until he was out of sight, leaving her with a bag full of gold and a staunch warning.
And yet, the moment he was out of sight whatever spell he had on her was broken and instead of fear, Lyria felt a growing anger. His words had been more than just a warning, they had been a threat, to herself but to Rosie as well. And that was one line he shouldn't have crossed, one threat she could not forgive.
From the moment she had accepted his offer, Lyria had known that something about this entire deal had been off. His generous offer had convinced her to set her morals aside, but by now she felt more than just guilt, she felt disgust. He had made her forge a Hoare dagger. An Ironborn weapon! Though she doubted he was working for these beasts, as beastly as he himself was, she was certain that he was up to no good.
As such, there was only one thing to do, something she should have done days ago. She would not be an accomplice in whatever scheme he was coming up with. She had to report him and she had to do it now. The city guard would know what to do. The commander had been friends with her husband and though she had not spoken to him since that fateful night, the one that claimed too many lives, with her husband and his wife among them, she knew that Hackor Nathamer was a truly just man. He would know what to do.
As such, Lyria took quick and determined steps into the other direction, away from Wolfius and towards the city centre, where the city guard had its headquarters. They were not exactly large in numbers compared to a city of Raylansfair's size, numbering no more than two hundred, with two thirds of those being green and untested boys who joined up with the guard out of naivety and a thirst for glory. However, Hackor Nathamer was a man she deeply respected and he had gathered a sizeable number of good men as well.
The headquarters themselves were a sizeable building, three stories tall and one of the few buildings in all Raylansfair built entirely out of stone, with a short wall surrounding its outer courtyard, where on sunny days the new recruits of the guard would be trained by Hackor and his seasoned officers.
There was a lone guardsman in front of the simple iron gate that led into the outer courtyard, a young man in his twenties with a hair full of chestnut brown hair, his round, friendly face covered in a stubble beard. He wore boiled leather as all men of the city guard did, above it the green tabard with the sigil of the crowned book of Raylansfair. He held a spear in one hand and had a blunt cudgel dangling on his side, but there was nothing even remotely threatening about this man.
Lyria knew him, in fact, if distantly and the fact that he was here guarding the gate surprised her, for he was none other than Arthur Nathamer, the only son of the commander. It spoke a lot about Hackor's integrity that he forced his heir through the same drills as the rest of his men. From what little she had seen of him, Arthur had grown into a remarkably pleasant man, so clearly the commander's methods were working.
As he saw her, the lad even took a slight bow in front of her. "Good evening!", he greeted her. "Lyria Mettel, isn't it?" He extended his free hand into a warm handshake which Lyria accepted. His genuine friendliness was a stark and soothing contrast to the sinister undertone of Wolfius' words. "What brings you here at this late hour?"
"Good evening, Arthur", she greeted him in return, relaxing into a relieved smile now that she was here at last. The city guard headquarters were located centrally, on a large, warm square, sun-covered even at this late hour and within there were dozens of armed men. She had come to the right place for sure. "I need to speak to your father. It is important", she added.
At the mention of his father, Arthur's expression shifted slightly. Most wouldn't have noticed, but Lyria was a mother and she had a deeper understanding to how children sometimes viewed their parents. "The commander…", Arthur replied and the use of Hackor's title confirmed her suspicions. "Under other circumstances I'd give you an appointment two days from now. He is a busy man, but… honestly, Lyria, is everything alright? You seem shaken"
Lyria glanced down at her hand, noticing the slight tremble. Under circumstances she would suspect overwork, but she knew herself better than that. The encounter with Wolfius had left her shaken in a way she had not felt in years. "I… think I need to tell the commander about something… please, Arthur, can you arrange anything?"
Arthur looked her in the eyes for a few moments, before giving her a slight nod. "Come with me", he spoke, giving her a handwave to follow her, as he pushed the iron gate open. "The commander won't be happy, but he always had an open ear for the people. If you believe this is important then I am sure he will make time for you at once"
He led her across the cobble-stone of the outer yard and towards the building itself. Lyria had never been here before, there had never been a reason for her to come here, but even being within these walls made her feel safer. Whatever Wolfius was up to, she had no doubt it would come to an end soon.
On the inside, the building was surprisingly comfortable. The main room was spacious, with long benches around two massive tables, enough to seat at least fifty people. Two fireplaces, one on each side, warmed the entire room, keeping out the autumn chill, while the air smelled pleasantly of smoke and good soup. Right now about a dozen guardsmen on their break were there, sitting in small groups, eating their meals, their conversations hushed, their voices lowered. None of them were paying the two any mind, as Arthur led Lyria up the set of stairs on the far end of the hall, leading up to a small gallery from which several smaller doors led deeper into the building.
"That right there is the commander's office", Arthur told her. "If he asks, tell him I let you through. He may not be happy about it, but I think this is my duty" He gave Lyria a pat onto the shoulder and she replied with a grateful smile, as the young guardsman made his way back down the stairs and towards the door, surely to resume his lone watch. The boy was truly a gem among the guardsmen, a rare beacon of kindness and humility, when even the knights in the keep were more often than not self-righteous and arrogant. Even Commander Nathamer had a reputation for being strict, but then again, Lyria had no issue with some strictness from time to time. But there were moments where the mercy and compassion of Arthur were needed as much as a man truly willing to uphold the law.
By the time Lyria reached the door, she noticed that she had calmed down considerably. Something about this place was reassuring. A man of Hackor Nathamer's reputation would surely be able to help her. Still, the unsettling expression on the vagabond's face would remain with her for a while, the sheer, twisted glee with which he had expected her masterpiece… Her masterpiece! Lyria let out a sigh. It was a vile thing to have her forge a Hoare dagger after all the black king's killers had done to her, to the people of this city. By now, all she wanted was to get to the bottom of this.
With anger in her heart over how this unsettling man had treated her, how he had spoken about Rosalie, Lyria marched up to the commander's door and knocked, heavily. A moment of silence passed, before a deep and stern voice replied. "Come in", the commander growled and she did not leave him waiting.
His office was small, surprisingly for such a powerful man, but it was a pleasant surprise. Lyria had always felt distaste over the way the lord and his people could gorge themselves, their needless displays of wealth when just beyond the castle, people had to struggle just to get by. Clearly, Hackor Nathamer was different, as he sat there behind a narrow desk, reading through a large stack of papers.
The commander of the city guard was not a young man. Unmistakably Arthur's father in appearance, his face lacked the soft warmth to it. Instead it was lean and harsh, his chestnut brown hair cropped shorter than that of his son, while his beard was fuller, yet trimmed with equal rigidity. Both started to turn grey and on his face there were some fine wrinkles, but his emerald green eyes remained sharp, attentive and cunning.
It seemed the only luxury in his tidy, unadorned office was the full set of green plate armour that hung from an armour stand just by the wall. She tensed up as she saw it, for her husband's work was unmistakable. She even still remember him forging it, many years ago before Rosalie had been born. His masterpiece, outshining all of Lyria's attempts at the craft.
"Lyria Mettel. I have not seen you in a long time", Hackor greeted her and there was no warmth in his tone, nor displeasure. He was simply stating a fact the same way others would comment on the weather. "I was not aware we had an appointment", he added and this time, his tone was unmistakable. It did not take him long to pierce together what must have happened.
Lyria shook her head, focussing more on the commander and forcing herself to look away from his armour. "We don't have an appointment, Commander Nathamer", she confirmed. "But I was hoping you might be able to aid me all the same. I have a problem, an urgent one"
Hackor's eyes narrowed for a second. "Usually, this is what Arthur and the other captains are there for", he growled. "But seeing as my soft son already led you to me, I suppose what's done is done" He made a slight move with his hand, offering her the empty chair on the other side of his desk. "Take a seat. How have things been for you since…"
He paused and Lyria knew that this was not an easy topic for him either. Her husband never had a chance back when the Ironborn had attacked them. Hackor's wife however… the commander had made a terrible choice on that day, one the city loved him for, but one Lyria knew must have crushed him. If anything, the years had only further hardened him.
"They have been… steady", Lyria spoke. Not good. Not bad. Just steady. "Work keeps me grounded. I imagine it is similar for you" She looked at him with warmth in her gaze, which the commander did not reciprocate. Neither of them had any mind for casual conversation, not when it had been so many years since last they even spoke.
"Indeed it is", Hackor confirmed. "But this is no courtesy visit and I am a busy man, Lyria. For your husband's sake, you may bring your grievances directly to me just this once" He leant back in his chair, a small comfort compared to the rigid posture he had assumed before that.
With this, Lyria took a deep breath. "Last week I had a new customer at my forge", she revealed. "A lean man. Around my age I wager. Blonde hair, pallid skin, grey eyes. An unsettling fellow with an even more unsettling task" She leant closer, lowering her voice before she realised how ridiculous that was. There was no need for secrecy and yet, she somehow felt as if she was about to spill a terrible secret, something not spoken out aloud. "His name is Wolfius Woodbark", she revealed.
At once, Hackor's expression shifted. For a second, the commander lost his carefully maintained facade of cold neutrality. "Woodbark…", he growled slowly, tasting each syllable. "He is no stranger to us. Last week, he harassed the barmaid in the Tapping Pony. Luckily, she got help, so nothing worse happened, but the encounter left her spooked enough to report him to us" He shrugged. "We tried to keep an eye on him, but you can imagine how difficult that is in a city of this size. Slippery little bastard is elusive", he growled. "What did he want from you, blacksmith?"
The use of her title was an unmistakable shift here. Whatever warmth he held for her was second to his duties. Right now, she was connected to Wolfius, who himself was clearly up to no good. And yet, she knew for a fact she had broken no law, had done no wrong. This meant she had nothing to fear from the commander.
"It was an odd request", she revealed. "A substantial amount of coin in exchange for a dagger. He wanted a sigil on its hilt, one I had never seen before. Rosalie later told me what it truly was. It belongs to House Hoare of Orkmont"
For but a second, Hackor looked at her with a mixture of surprise and a growing anger. "Fucking Hoare's", he hissed, the venom in his voice a sharp contrast to the previous ice. "I hoped we'd never see Ironborn scum or their reach in this fine city. Apparently, I have been wrong. Doesn't surprise me that this slippery troublemaker is at the heart of it"
Then, his expression softened and Lyria could tell that he was not angry at her. When it came to the Ironborn and their allies, this was a man who knew how to hold a grudge. He had lost as much as Lyria, perhaps even more for he had made a choice that day when Lyria herself had none to torment herself with.
"He spied on me. Threatened me", Lyria then admitted. "Threatened Rosalie… Commander, he threatened my daughter. Told me to stay silent, or else… well, those weren't his exact words, but the intention was unmistakable" She trailed off, her gaze wandering back to the green armour, a testimony for her husband's craft.
"And yet you have ignored that warning. That is a reckless thing to do, Lyria", Hackor sighed, as he followed her gaze. His expression grew more distant again, but this time, there was a sorrow in his green gaze, something that matched her own at her worst days. "Your husband was a good man and his armour has saved my life many times over the years. I never got a chance to thank him, but I will thank you on his behalf"
He rose from his desk and began to approach the armour, running his fingers over the impeccable steel. "I show my gratitude in deeds", he mumbled. "This odd, unsettling customer of yours will be brought in for questioning. If he did nothing wrong, I'll have him booted from the city. If he's involved with House Hoare, I will see him hang. That is my promise to you"
This sent a wave of pure relief through Lyria. A promise like that, from a man like Hackor Nathamer was among the most valuable things she could imagine, for he would see this through. For a second, his hand lingered on the armour, before it clenched into a fist. "There have been enough odd incidents to take him in", he growled. "A proper manhunt with me spearheading it. It'll be like in the good old days when I was still captain and got shit done instead of sitting behind a desk the entire day"
He seemed relieved as he spoke these words and once again, Lyria could understand the sentiment well. Indeed, the commander had always been a man of action. But Wolfius was no easy foe, she knew that much already. He was cunning, deceptive and there was something else about him, a deep-seated chill she felt whenever she locked eyes with him. "You should not underestimate him", she warned the commander.
Hackor raised an eyebrow, before he shook his head. "And I will not", he confirmed. "But that man is hardly the worst man I have ever apprehended, even if my worst fears regarding him are true" A rare, thin smile flashed across his face. "Be at ease, Lyria. Soon, this man will be dealt with"
In this moment, something else caught her eye and immediately, Lyria tensed up again. A shadow darted past the window. They were in the first floor, of course and this was still the city guard headquarters. As such, it was clear to her just what she had seen there. A bird, a large, black specimen. A raven, most likely. In this moment, Lyria felt a chill creeping down her spine and she knew that her troubles were not yet over.
To be continued