"There is no record of who built that road or of any such agreement," Lady Whitehill retorted. "And we have no records of this bandit serving house Whitehill."
"He confessed to working for you!" Forrester hissed.
"A confession you only gained after hours of sharp questioning that left the man dead," Lady Whitehill sneered. "And all you could attain was that he served my house. I give my word before the old gods and new that I never ordered him to do this vile act."
To be clear, is Lady Whitehill here denying that the saboteur factually
was a man who served her house? Or is she simply denying that she ever gave such an order?
"We have no records matching House Forresters claim," he admitted, "but Lord Glover speaks highly of House Forrester. I have no reason to doubt to they at least believe they are telling the truth."
Lord Forrester's claim that he should be exempt from tolls has its roots in the idea that the road he is using is an old royal road from before the Conquest, and therefore toll-free.
One would expect the Starks to have records of which roads they, themselves, did or did not build. It would be worth asking Lord Stark whether those records are to be considered comprehensive or not. There might have been, say, an archive fire 150 years ago and in that case we
can't know, but if the Starks have detailed records of all construction and maintenance from the last several centuries and know it, then that may tell us a lot about whether Lord Forrester is being honest here.
Can we get an answer to that question,
@Teen Spirit ?
[] [First] Side with neither, Reduce the Tolls by half
If we do this, I'd want to make sure to specify that this is a toll reduction on
specifically the Forresters' timber shipments, for a clearly delimited span of time, not a general reduction on all tolls passing along the road or for an indefinite period.
Because given that we cannot prove (and it is rather doubtful) that the Whitehills actually were behind the destruction of the dam, permanently reducing the income from something valuable on their lands would be rather heavy-handed.
I would rather not remove the tolls entirely, partly because there is no clear evidence that the Whitehills sabotaged the dam, and partly because if the tolls are abolished, it is likely that the Whitehills will allow the road to decay unless someone else is maintaining it for them.
After that, you were barely given a few moments to breath before the next case was presented. This time, a man in chains was dragged before you. His attire was rather dirty, but even through the caked on mud you can tell it was once a fine outfit. His hair was neatly cut, though his face was covered with several days of uneven, red and black fuzz.
The man glanced at you briefly before turning his eyes towards the stone floor.
"Amos here is a merchant by trade," the steward declared. "Five days ago, he started a drunken brawl in Wintertown that saw the deaths of three men. He is being charged with High Treason, Three Counts of Murder, and Disorderly conduct. Amos has claimed that he had not thrown the first punch and had only acted to defend himself, something half a dozen witnesses said was false. Though he does not deny it was his words that started the fight in the first place. "
That "half a dozen witnesses" part is rather important, given that by medieval standards of justice eyewitness testimony is about as good as you get (regrettably
).
"The merchant... Ah," the steward hesistated for a moment. "He insulted your father, Princess. That's why the fight started in the first place. The others believed the accused was trying to incite something before your arrival."
That just left you with even more questions.
"What could this man have said to provoke such a reaction?" you questioned.
You liked to believe the smallfolk loved your father, and you knew some of them loved you for your actions in White Harbor while others sneered at you for it. But your father had ruled justly for over a decade. Who could say something vile enough to provoke a fight against him?
The steward looked like he wanted to be anywhere else right now, his words choking in his throat.
"I need to know what the man said," you urged.
"He, he..." The steward hesitated for a moment longer before finally blurting it out. "He called King Viserys a thrice-damned abomination born of degenerate incest, who's foul blood should not be allowed to pollute the North."
Given how we reacted to insults against
Rhaenyra, and that King Viserys has declared his willingness to rip people's tongues out if they start making (possibly true) insinuations against
her reputation over her being a gender-nonconforming knightly lady or over her being bi, I think it's only fair if we are equally ferocious about defending King Viserys' honor.
"I was quite drunk at the time," the man said, barely glancing up to show you his fearful expression before his eyes lowered again.
"Do you deny saying these things?" you questioned.
"No, I do not," The merchant admitted. "I said what I said, but I never wanted a fight. I tried to calm things down. They threw the first punch."
"But it was your words that provoked the fight in the first place," the steward said pointedly.
"Aye," the merchant nodded.
Had it just been words, even an insult as vile as this, you knew your father might let them off lightly. Muttered discontent would do nothing to change succession after all. But your father wasn't here, Lord Stark was, and men where dead.
I don't like it, but I think we have to go for execution. It's not, in a cosmic sense,
fair perhaps, but when you're a medieval monarch you really cannot start the precedent that people are allowed to start violence by shit-talking you. This is effectively a microcosm of what a civil war would look like, and a reputation for stomping down hard on people who risk civil war that way may help deter or delay one.
"Does the accused have anything to say in his defense?" you questioned. The man deserved a chance even if you knew there was little he could say to change his fate.
"My daughter was dying!" Pate cried as he knelt before you. "Foulness corrupted my fields! The rot killed my brother and I couldn't let my family suffer the same fate, but we had nothing else to eat. Summer snows had eaten through our reserves. My daughter had barely eaten anything in weeks! Please, princess! Mercy! I beg of you!"
You stared at the man with wide eyes, you'd never had anyone beg you for their life before.
"Is this true?" you asked, forcing yourself to break the farmer's gaze and look at the steward.
"Hmm, yes," the steward said as he checked his notes. "The armsmen who found him did report his fields had been overtaken by a foulness known to rot the limbs and drive a person mad. But Lord Stark has provisions set aside for such incidents. If he had simply come to Winter Town, his family would have been provided for."
"My daughter wouldn't survived that long!" the farmer replied sharply. "She's only alive because the soldier who found me took pity and provided some of his own ration."
His gaze turned towards Lord Stark who stared back impassively.
"I apologize profusely, mi'lord," his voice wavering as he spoke. "You have always been good to me and mine, but I had no other option. I swear before the gods of the forest it will never happen again."
"It is the princess' decision, not mine," was all Lord Stark said.
The farmer's gaze turned back to you.
"Please, princess," he begged. "My family needs me. My girl's barely reached her eight nameday and my wife cannot handle the farm alone. Please spare me."
You sat uneasy in the throne. The law was clear here. A hand or the Wall. But you had to imagine that farming with only one hand was quite the difficult feat. And sending him to the Wall would leave his wife alone to raise their daughter and run their farm come winter's end.
But it didn't take the wits of Lord Strong to realize that if you spared this man, every lord here would think you soft and word would spread to the smallfolk that all it took was a sad story to get away with poaching. Lords would be dealing with criminals for years because of your mercy.
It didn't feel right to punish this man for such a desperate act though. You only saw a few options here, and none of them were to your liking.
How Do You Rule in the Third Case?
[] [Third] Remove his Hand
[] [Third] Send him to the Wall
[] [Third] Spare Him
[] [Third] Write-in (Subject to QM Approval)
Uuuugh, I don't know, this one is a
toughie.
Ideally I'd like to find some way to impose a penalty on him that can be repaid more gradually, but that allows him to continue living and working.
