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Nox considered himself a very well-traveled man, especially when compared to the locals of the world he now called home. He'd been from one end of the galaxy to the other and had seen and done just about everything one could think of. But the sight that he now saw before him… It was just…wrong. And there was no better way to put it than that. To everyone else it was just a large stone bridge with a castle—several castles—constructed across its length in order to protect it. But to Nox, who saw with the Force and not his eyes, he did not see a simple castle on a bridge. What he saw was just…corruption and a sense of wrongness. And when coming from the man who'd ventured into the Dark Temple on Dromund Kaas for fun, that was saying something!
"So, this is the infamous 'Twins'," Nox commented idly as he and Ned, along with the rest of their retinue, made their way towards the castle that rested on the banks of the river nearest to them. It was indeed an impressive construct. A large stone bridge that housed a castle of equal size on each bank while the center of the bridge was dominated by a large tower twice as tall as either castle. "Quite the formidable structure."
"Aye," Ned replied evenly, though Nox could detect the slightest bit of hesitation from his friend. And given what he'd learned about the Freys and their current Lord, one 'Late' Walder Frey, Nox could understand his friend's hesitation. "Lady Mormont. Stay back with the wagon, Lady Shireen, and the others. GreatJon, Nox, and boys you are with me. Let's get this over with."
The Freys were not necessarily the most powerful house in Westeros, but they had still managed to gain a lot of gold and notoriety over the years because of the fact that they controlled one of the only notable ways of crossing the Trident in the northern regions of the Riverlands. Because of this, they were able to exact a heavy toll on those who were looking to cross. Usually, the toll was in the form of coin. But it wasn't uncommon for the Lord of the Crossing to change his mind and demand other forms of payment in lieu of coin. Most commonly were betrothals to one of his many children, grandchildren, or even great-grandchildren.
Coming upon the eastern bank castle, they were met with a closed gate and more than one weary eye from atop the battlements before them. "Who goes there!" A voice shouted down to them.
The GreatJon didn't hesitate to respond as he nudged his horse so that he was positioned just in front of Ned and Nox. "Can't you bloody well fucking see banners ya halfwit!?" The large man's shout was almost deafening. "See the wolf? And the red mountains? The chains and the bear? This here is the Warden of the North, Lord Eddard Stark, and the Northern Sorcerer Nox are looking to cross your fucking bridge! Now, open the damn gates!"
The man atop the gates disappeared so fast that Nox was sure he left a trail of dust floating in the wind behind him. Within what seemed like only a few minutes, the main gate started lowering, revealing a man perhaps twice Nox's age who looked like he'd seen better years. The moment the drawbridge was lowered, the older man walked across it's wooden surface with a contingent of five guards flanking him. "Lord Stark, Lord Nox…Lord Umber, I presume, and Lady Mormont. I am Ser Stevron Frey, first born son of Lord Walder Frey and his heir. I welcome you all and offer you the hospitality of the Twins."
Nox couldn't help but be taken aback slightly at the declaration. 'This…is the heir to the Twins? By the Force, the fool is old enough to have died and passed on his title.'
"Ser Stevron," Ned greeted the man, nudging his horse closer to the man with Winter staying right by the horse's flank. "Your hospitality is appreciated. However, my bannerman and I must decline as we are anxious to return to our homes. We request passage across the Twins and that is all."
The elder Frey didn't seem at all surprised. "But of course, word of what has happened between the North and the Maesters has reached many ears, my Lord. As have your actions in King's Landing with the dreadful business of the wildfire. And given such events, I can understand your desire to return to your homes as quickly as possible."
"Good," Ned replied evenly. "Name the toll and we will be on our way."
Stevron shifted uncomfortably where he stood, and Nox could feel waves of anxiety and small amounts of fear coming off the man. "Yes…the toll to cross. My father, Lord Walder, knew of your coming and asked that you be brought to him to discuss the toll…in person."
The sense of something wrong intensified as the heir to the Twins slowly made his way back across the drawbridge while beckoning them to follow him.
"Fucking hellspawn piss-sucking Freys," GreatJon spat lowly so that they wouldn't be overheard. "You know what he'll want, Ned."
"Aye, I do," Ned responded with a voice that was like iron. "But that does not mean he will get it. The Freys will have their due for our crossing. But not a copper more."
Once they were past the walls and within the small courtyard, Ser Stevron led them towards a small stable where they all dismounted before handing the horses off to the stable hands. Before they could enter the keep though, the old Frey stopped them, his eyes traveling down to Winter and her two pups that'd followed them into the keep. "Are your beasts…tamed, Lord Eddard?"
Winter's ears tilted back on her head as a low growl started emanating from her throat, forcing the Frey to take an involuntary step back as his fear began to overtake him. "Winter and her cubs are direwolves, Ser Stevron," Ned responded, calmly placing his hand atop the horse-sized wolf's head. "They are the North herself, untamable by man. They are not beasts. But have no fear. Make no ill move towards myself or those with me, and none need fear them. And they stay with those of House Stark at all times. Lest you wish to test their abilities to control their baser instincts?"
The Frey gave each wolf a long look, no doubt weighing the repercussions of demanding that the wolves stay outside the keep. In the end, the man decided that it was better for the wolves to stay with them rather than allow them to wander off on their own and invited them into the keep. To Nox's senses, outside of the keep being built on a bridge he found the Twins to be rather…lacking. Sure, there was a substantial amount of wealth proudly displayed across the walls in forms of tapestries or fancy, painted shields, or other expensive items. But there was no warmth to the place. Walking through the keep, he could only compare the place to some of the households that belonged to the nobility within the Sith Empire that were not in fact Sith. Extravagant wealth but no power, only the allusion of power and importance.
As they were led into the main hall within the keep, the Northerners were greeted to an unexpected sight. Most of the tables had been removed save for the high table and two others. And those three tables were laden with enough food and drink to satisfy a small army. And the only two occupants, besides the serving girls standing at the edges of the room with pitchers of wine, were two individuals seated at the high table. One was a young girl who looked to be only perhaps a few years older than Robb and Jon at best. And the other was an old man that looked like a corpse that'd been rotting for years. And while the young woman wasn't touching the food or drink before her, the old man was digging into his meal with perhaps the worst set of table manners Nox had ever experienced in his life. And that included his mealtimes in the slave pens.
"Father," Ser Stevron said, bowing at the waist before the high table. "I have brou-"
"Aye, I can see them, fool," the old man, Walder Frey, Lord of the Crossing belched as he hastily wiped at his mouth. "Well? Don't just stand there like the idiot you are, son, sit down and get out of Lord Eddard's way."
The younger Frey, though he was still older than anyone else in the Northern party, hastily bowed to his father once more before making his way around the tables and up to the high table where he took a seat to the left of the young girl.
"Well?" Walder asked, motioning towards the feast laid out before them. "What are you waiting for? This feast is for the lot of ya. Sit down already."
Nox could do little more than shake his head. This man had arrogance in spades. More than likely never had anyone ever truly challenge him. In part because, from what he'd read, the man never left this castle. His own family didn't dare challenge him because he was their head of house and the local Lords either avoided him or catered to his whims because they needed use of the crossing. A king of his own making so to speak.
"The offer is appreciated, Lord Walder, but we must decline the invitation," Ned replied, his voice hard and his face set in stone as he stood before the Lord of the Crossing. "We have been away from the North for many moons and are all ready to return to our own homes."
Walder did not look pleased with the denial. But it was a smart move on Ned's part. From what Nox had learned of Walder, while he was perhaps the oldest man in all of Westeros, he was still ambitious and sly. If they had taken his invitation to sit and dine and rest within the halls of the Twins, then the Lord of the Crossing would have cause to raise the price of their toll due to the cost food they consumed.
"What? Are the Lords of the North too good for the food within my halls?" Walder asked, picking up a piece of chicken and biting into it. "You denied my invitation to my wedding with my latest wife as well as my ninetieth nameday, Lord Eddard. One would think you Northerners are too good for House Frey."
'Ninety?' Nox thought as his sight shifted to the clearly uncomfortable young woman sitting beside him. 'And I take it that this is his newest wife? Force…How that man can even still get it up at his age to produce children without the aid of pharmaceuticals is nothing short of a miracle. A terrible miracle, but a miracle nonetheless.'
"Issues within the North required my attention, Lord Walder." Ned replied diplomatically. "I congratulate you both on your marriage and ask the gods blessing on your union."
"Heh, gods' blessing, heh? I've got twenty-two sons, Stark. Gods have blessed me enough. This one here is just to keep my bones warm at night."
Nox had to hold out his hand discreetly to keep Jon and Robb from acting rashly as the decrepit old man reached out and fondled the young girl to his left. And while the girl was not fighting off the old man's hand, it was clear that she was not enjoying his touch at all.
"As you say," Ned's voice had gained a definite edge, signaling that just like his sons, he was not unaffected by the brazen display. "If we could proceed to the matter of the toll for our crossing, Lord Walder? My men and I are anxious to be in the North once more."
Ceasing his fondling, Walder placed his elbows on the table and rested his chin in his hands. "These your sons, Stark? They look like yours."
Nox could feel Ned tensing at the mentioning of the two youngest amongst them. "Aye. This is my son and heir, Robb. And my son, Jon."
Nox could see and feel the desire and ambition rolling off Walder as he licked his lips. "I was incorrect when I spoke of my sons, Lord Eddard," Walder said, still sidestepping the issue of the toll. "I no longer have twenty-two sons. I have twenty-one. One was a Maester at the Citadel. Or at least he was until you and the sorcerer next to you strung him up and gutted him like a piece of livestock."
Beside him, Ned stiffened, but Nox could only shake his head. He could sense no remorse from Walder as he spoke of his deceased son. Meaning the bringing up of him was meant only to put Ned off balance and try to garner some sense of guilt from the Warden of the North. "The Maesters who were executed were traitors to the realm, Lord Walder. Having lost my own son, I understand your pain. But I will not apologize for delivering the King's justice to those who sought to usurp control of the realm through treachery and were responsible for the death of my wife, son and dozens of other sons and daughters of the North."
That was not the response the elderly Frey clearly wanted, given the wave of annoyance coming off him. "You want to cross my bridge, Stark, after killing one of my son's?" Walder asked, trying to look intimidating but failing utterly at the task. "Fine. But the cost…well, perhaps we can mitigate it. Despite the death of a son of House Frey at the hands of the wolves, I'm willing to overlook it and give you passage. And free passage for House Stark for the next generation as well. Provided your eldest son take one of my daughters or granddaughters for the next Lady Stark and your eldest girl marries one of my sons."
Nox had to admit the man had balls. To all but demand not one, but two marriages from the Warden of the North, even if said marriages would provide toll free passage for a generation it was still heavily one sided. And from the cold fury emanating off his friend, Ned knew it as well. "Rejected. We will pay the toll today. But my sons' and daughters' hands are not up for discussion."
"What? Are your children too good for sons and daughters of House Frey? I have plenty of sons for you to choose from for your daughter. And as for your son…I have a pretty girl or two and that is all that matters in the end, isn't it, boy? A pretty face to warm your bed and bare your children?" Walder asked snidely, but after failing to generate a response he snorted. "Fine. If not your eldest son and daughter, then how about your bastard boy there and yourself? I'm sure you will find at least two of my daughters or granddaughters suitable for bedwarmers."
Now Nox was just plain astonished. The man's ambition had clearly overridden his sense of self-preservation given that he was either completely ignorant or just uncaring about the cold rage that was steadily building in the Warden of the North. "My wife of three and ten years has been dead for not even a full year yet and you expect me to take another wife already? No. I have no need for another wife as I have secured House Stark with three sons and two daughters. And as for Jon… His fate and when he is ready for marriage is when Lord Nox determines that his training under him is complete. And not a moment before."
He could feel Walder's greedy gaze shift from Ned to himself and then back. "Heh, you can never have too many children, Stark. There's nothing sweeter than a young flowers honey to have all to yourself… And unlike some women, a Frey girl knows her duty in carrying a son to birth."
Jon, Robb, Ned, and the GreatJon all involuntarily took a step away from him as the temperature in the room plummeted. At the high table, the young Lady Frey suddenly started shaking while Ser Stevron started blowing into his hand, wondering how and why he could suddenly see his breath in the air. And Walder, the old fool was helpless to do anything but stare at Nox as he calmly and slowly took a few steps towards the Lord of the Crossing. With a calmness that surprised even himself, Nox focused his full attention on the old fool who was clearly doing everything in his power not to piss himself. "I do hope, Walder Frey, that your words were merely just a slip of the tongue and not an intentional slight against my wife who lost our child after being stabbed in the womb by a man who sided with traitors and broke the laws of gods and men."
Walder, showing an incredible lack of self-preservation, merely snorted. "Recent events speak for themselves, sorcerer. Though, what more could you expect after marrying a low-born whor—?"
Nox moved without thought, his right hand rising in the blink of an eye as the small coin purse he kept on his waist was shredded as the coins within tore themselves free on his command. The gold flew faster than the eye could follow, crossing the distance of the hall in less than a fraction of a second. The silver cup in Walder's hand shattered and several strands of his hair fell listlessly to the ground as five gold coins cut through both as if neither was there before embedding themselves into the back of Walder Frey's chair.
Lowering his arm, Nox slowly approached the high table. The Lady Frey was cowering against the arm of her chair, making herself as small as she could while simultaneously trying to put as much distance between herself and her husband as possible. Ser Stevron Frey had knocked his chair back, his hand on the hilt of the short sword at his waist. But unfortunately for the heir to the Twins, he was unable to draw the blade no matter how hard he tried as Nox kept the blade within its sheath with only minimal effort on his part. And as for Walder, the Lord of the Crossing was frozen stiff in fear as Nox poured a constant stream of the dark side of the Force off himself and into the old man.
Reaching the high table, Nox increased the flow of the dark side within him, making Lord Frey break out into a cold sweat and for the Lady Frey to faint in her seat. "We came here to pass your bridge and head home, yet you impeded our path. Hoping to use the death of your traitorous son to induce a sense of guilt within us and then leverage our desire to return in order to expand your own feeble concept of power by tying your House to House Stark through marriage. Lord Eddard heard your proposal, and politely denied the immediate request. Far politer than he should have in my opinion. But you took it as a slight. And then you lashed out and insulted my wife. I have killed greater than you for far less."
Pausing, Nox raised his hand, finger extended towards the man's racing heart. "It would be so easy. An old man like you. Your heart is on its last leg as it is. A simple touch with the Force, and your heart would falter and fail. Leaving you to suffer in agony as you clutched at your chest, begging for one more moment of life." The unmistakable smell of urine permeated the air as the Lord of the Crossing lost control of his bladder, the sight and smell bringing a smile to Nox's face. "But, lucky for you, I don't feel like dealing with the fallout your death would no doubt cause. Even if killing every Frey within this castle would be easier than my morning exercises. So, this is what is going to happen. Embedded in your chair are five gold coins. That is your toll, Lord Walder and allow us passage across the Twins. Should you, or any of yours feel the need to impede us further, then I will sink the Twins into the Green Fork with every Frey still trapped within its walls. Do we have an understanding, my Lord? Good."
Turning on his heel, Nox didn't wait to hear the response from the Lord of the Crossing as he used the Force to throw the doors to the hall open, allowing him to march out. Ned was quick to follow his lead, not even bothering to offer the Lord Frey a customary acknowledgement before turning and following Nox out of the hall, leaving the GreatJon, Jon, and Robb hurrying to catch up with the two of them. In the yard outside, all the guards in the immediate vicinity were on high alert, their hands on their weapons. But wisely, all of them thought better of getting in the way of a clearly irate Lord Stark and Nox as they retrieved their horses and made their way out of the keep.
Once they were clear of the walls of the Twins, Ned spoke for the first time since Nox had taken over the 'negotiations'. "I doubt that was as courteous as Walder is used to."
Nox just snorted. "The man needed a lesson in humility. And a reminder that he is but a small fish in a very big pond."
"Aye, leave off it, Ned," the GreatJon added, slapping Nox on the back with a meaty hand. "If Nox hadn't done anything, I would've shoved that fucking goblet of his down the weasel's throat. A first-born son and daughter for just a simple crossing! Ha! Then to go an insult the women of the North…hells. If Maege was there, she would've made sure the man would be shitting pieces of her mace for the rest of his life!"
Grimacing, Ned snapped his horse's reins, urging the beast into a slight trot.
"Master," Jon said, riding up next to him. "What you said back to Lord Walder…about sinking the Twins with everyone in it…were you—?"
"I wasn't jesting, Jon," Nox replied, turning towards his apprentice. "Should the Freys impede our progress, then I will sink the Twins into the river. I won't enjoy it, but I will do it. I made the threat. If I do not follow through on my threat then word will spread. And once word gets out that either I, your father, yourself, or your brother are not willing to carry out on the threats that are made, then your word will come to mean less than pig shit."
Jon didn't seem pleased by the answer, but he wisely didn't press the issue and instead rode in silence beside Nox as the small group rejoined with the rest of those following them north. Sitting astride her horse at the front of the group was Lady Mormont, the fierce Lady of Bear Island had her mace in hand and her eyes fixed solely on the Twins. "So, do we have any coin left to us, Lord Eddard? Or are we taking some simpering Frey whelp back with us to wed an unsuspecting Northerner?"
"The toll has been paid," Ned said, shooting a quick glance towards Nox. "And there shall be no Freys accompanying us to the North."
One of Maege's brow rose as she turned her attention from Ned to Nox. "Forgive me for assuming, Lord Stark, but I take it that the sorcerer here handled the negotiations? Is there a new Lord of the Crossing then?"
"No," Nox replied as everyone prepared to make their way across the Twins. "But Walder's pants and possibly even his chair will need to be destroyed as I doubt even the most skilled scullery maid would be able to get them clean once more."
Throwing her head back, Maege let out a loud deep laugh that sent the nearby wildlife scrambling to flee. "By the old gods, sorcerer… You are something else! If your woman wasn't who she is, then I'd be tempted to see just how far your passion went!"
"Anything is possible, Lady Mormont," Nox smirked as he noticed the gates of the Twins remaining wide open for them and the people within scrambling to give them a clear route across the bridge. "But that's a discussion for another time. For now, let's just get across this bridge and get back into the North before the Late Frey loses what little sanity I scared back into his aging head."
Standing on one of the numerous docks lining the bay of Pentos Asher Forrester, second born son of Lord Gregor Forrester, was still trying to reconcile in his mind that what was happening was actually happening as he watched numerous workers carefully unload the cargo from the Northern vessel tied off before him. Barely a year had passed since he'd made his peace with never being able to return to his home after his father was forced to banish him once his love affair with Gwyn Whitehill had become common knowledge. And while part of him despised his father's cowardice for banishing him, time had given him perspective and made him realize that his father had indeed made the right choice in sending him away. And now, here he was. About to board a ship that would return him to the North with his father's and Lord Stark's blessing. And not only was he being allowed to return to his home…he was also returning to a betrothal to the one woman he truly loved and rulership of his own keep! And if that wasn't enough of a twist of fate, the one aiding in his return home was none other than Domeric Bolton, the exiled son of the now eternally disgraced Roose Bolton. If anyone had any doubts that the gods had a twisted sense of humor, they need only look at him to erase such doubts.
"I've never seen a vessel quite like this one Asher."
He didn't need to look beside him to know who was speaking. After all, the two had been almost inseparable since they came across one another three moons ago when he was on the road to Meereen. "Not surprisingly Beskha," he said to the woman who had saved his life almost as many times as he'd saved hers. "The Wolf's Howl is a scaled down version of the Sea Wolf, the dreadnaught that was designed by the Sorcerer himself. And it's probably the first one of its kind to actually leave the North."
"Designed by the Sorcerer, hmm?" Beskha hummed, her interest in the ship much more noticeable, though obviously not because of any interest in the sea. "Tales of that man have spread far even here in Essos. A sorcerer greater than the Warlocks of Qarth. A statesman who can talk circles around even the representatives from the Iron Bank. And a warrior without equal while he holds a blade in his hand. There are even some, mostly those fire burning fanatics, that even consider him some long-lost prophet come to deliver the people from the darkness of their sins. Though some of the more…entertaining tales say he is sin itself and partakes regularly in any and all delights offered to him."
Shaking his head, he took a wide step away from his friend to give her a wide breadth. "Careful now, Beskha. Don't want you to have to wring out your small clothes before we make way. And besides, best put those thoughts to the side. Last I heard, he had a woman who is now his wife. By all accounts, she is not someone you want to trifle with and not just because she is married to the sorcerer."
Beskha merely shrugged. "Hasn't stopped me before. Him having a wife just makes it even more exciting. Coming from experience here, Asher: there are few things in life that can top having a go at a husband and his wife at the same time."
Shaking his head at his friend's antics, Asher left the woman sellsword to her fantasies as he walked down the length of the dock to… Well, he wasn't quite sure just what he was going to do. He wasn't even sure what he could do now seeing as how the dock hands of Pentos and the sailors of the North seemed to have had a good handle on the unloading of the ship. So, instead of helping with the manual laboring, Asher was left with nothing more than to think over his life. His banishment. The months he'd spent in Essos trying to start a new life. And then his fated run in with someone he couldn't even remember in Volantis who did little more than hand him a letter stating that his banishment had been lifted and that he was to make all haste for Essos and seek out the other exiled Northern who would see to his return home.
He'd been more than slightly skeptical at the time, as had Beskha, and had initially dismissed the strange letter and the one who delivered it to him. But after a few days of fighting tooth and nail just to get enough to fill his belly, his desire to return home won out and he and Beskha left Volantis behind and made for Pentos. Ideally, the two would've traveled by ship from Volantis to Pentos as it was the faster and safer option to take. Unfortunately, that option was not available to them as neither had enough coin for even one of them to book safe passage, let alone both. So, they were left with no other option than to walk. Which wasn't a very attractive option as the roads in Essos were plagued with Dothraki, slavers, bandits, sellsword companies, escaped slaves or just plain idiots with a blade and nothing left to lose.
But for the first time in his life the old gods of the North seem to take pity on him. They had managed to complete the long walk from Volantis to Pentos with only a single short skirmish against a handful of bandits. Which in and of itself was a blessing because they were able to liberate a couple of horses from the fools. Then there was his meeting with the Northerner living in exile, Domeric Bolton. To say their meeting was tense was an understatement. At least from Asher's perspective. While having never met the heir to the Dreadfort before in his life, the man's name was enough to put Asher on edge. But surprisingly, Domeric was about as far from a Bolton as a Stark was from a Tyrell. He was actually…courteous. And for some reason seemingly completely at ease with his lot in life, which now dictated that he live out the rest of his days here in Essos. 'A chance to start anew,' Domeric had explained to him when Asher pressed the issue. 'Away from the stigma that my house has unfortunately placed upon ourselves over the years.'
Asher could do little but agree with the sentiment. Even in the North, the Boltons garnered little love from the people. Fear, yes. But love and respect? Those were aspects that the Boltons never had. And it was the reason why they were never able to overthrow the Starks no matter how many times they tried to do so. And Asher could admit that Domeric actually had a good thing going in Essos. He'd only been in Pentos for a few moons or so, and already he'd managed to become the primary merchant that dealt with the Northern trade in glass and other items that the North produced that were considered 'exotic' and therefore coveted by the people of Essos. He'd garnered more coin in a moon's turn than Asher had seen in his entire life. Enough to not only buy a decently sized manse but to also purchase enough 'servants' to staff it as well. Hells, the man even had enough coin left over to purchase a few Unsullied guards as well. While the exiled Bolton's sudden wealth was something that many would wish for, Asher was not one of them. Coin was all well and good. But he knew from experience the traders of Essos were ruthless. Especially those from the Disputed Lands. By trading in Northern glass and other exotic exports, Domeric was brazenly thumbing his nose at Myr and more than a few other suppliers. And Asher would be willing to lay down a fair amount of coin to say that the man already had at least one contract out on his life.
But despite that, he still felt no small amount of resentment towards the exiled Northerner. Asher had been exiled and had to leave the North with only the clothes on his back, a sword, and an axe. Domeric gets exiled, and the bastard gets set up as a wealthy merchant with premier trading rights with the North.
'And speaking of the bastard…' Asher thought as he watched Domeric appear at the edge of the docks with two Unsullied guards flanking him on either side.
The exiled Northerner took his time in examining each of the carts that were being loaded up, which was understandable considering just how much coin was being invested in this transaction. Seemingly satisfied, Domeric gave off a few sharp commands which sent his servants scrambling to get the carts moving to their next destination. "Lord Bolton," Asher greeted the man as the ex-heir to the Dreadfort approached him.
Domeric appeared to either not notice his tone or he just didn't care. And given the history of his family, Asher was willing to bet it was the latter. "I'm not a Lord anymore, Lord Forester. At least not one that is recognized by Westeros standards. My father's folly saw to that." Domeric greeted him cordially, his hands behind his back as he joined him in watching the Northerner's begin preparing the vessel for their eventual return trip to the North.
"Yeah, well…you'll forgive me for not shedding a tear over that," Asher replied, trying his best to keep his tone neutral. Not an easy feat considering it was because of the Bolton's relationship with the Whitehill's that was the true tipping point in his father's decision to send him into exile.
"Few did," Domeric shrugged, seemingly unfazed. "Even I struggled to mourn his passing after what he did. And even then, it was more over the family that I lost rather than the individual himself. But enough of the past, I would speak now of the future. This ship will be returning to the North at first light tomorrow. Until then, I would like to purchase the services of both yourself and your sellsword companion. One hundred gold dragons a piece for the night."
Asher eyed the Bolton warily. One hundred gold dragons was certainly nothing to scoff over. But the question was: what job for a single night was worth such an expense? "What's the job?"
"Nothing untoward I assure you," Domeric replied. "Tonight, after the sun goes down, the cargo for the return voyage North will be arriving. And while I have taken many precautions, there is still the outside chance of things potentially going wrong. Having two extra skilled blades standing guard will put my mind at ease."
"I see," Asher mumbled, trying to piece together what this 'cargo' could be, but failing to do so. "And what is so special about this cargo that it requires loading at night and extra swords to make sure that nothing goes wrong?"
Domeric didn't move his body, but Asher could see his eyes darting around the docks. "Somethings are best left unsaid, Lord Forrester. You will find out for yourself tonight if you take the job. Or tomorrow when the ship set's sail. Only should you find out in the morning, you will find yourself without the hundred gold dragons. Now, do we have a contract, or no?"
Asher was still uncertain about all of this, but one hundred gold dragons for both himself and Beshka for a simple night of guard duty was enough to put his uncertainty aside for now. "Very well," he nodded, holding out his hand. "We have a deal."
Domeric took his hand and gave it a firm shake before pulling out a light purse and handing it off to him. "An advancement of twenty gold dragons for the two of you. Do whatever you two wish to do for the rest of the day. But I insist that you both are sober by the time night falls."
"Don't worry," Asher replied lightly, giving the purse a shake and smiling at the sound of coins clinking within. "Beshka and I are professionals. We know what's expected of us."
The former heir to the Dreadfort gave him one last look before bidding him farewell and leaving the docks. Once he was gone, Beshka strode up to him, her eyes firmly attached to the small purse in his hand. "What happened?"
"We've been hired to oversee the loading of the ship tonight after the sun sets," Asher explained, opening the purse and separating out ten gold dragons which he then handed over to her. "One hundred dragons apiece, and twenty as an advancement."
Beshka eyed him warily as she took the offered coins. "A hundred dragons apiece…to guard the loading of a ship during the night?"
"Yeah," Asher nodded slowly, pocketing his share of the advancement. "I don't trust it either, but still. A hundred dragons is still a hundred dragons. And the ship sails at first light, so it's not like we'll be around for long to face whatever consequences come of…whatever in the hells is going to happen."
Beshka pursed her lips in thought then shrugged. "You're right. But when this shit all goes tits up, I'm blaming you for getting us into the mess. But before that happens, I'm going to go find the best and most expensive whore in the city to entertain myself with before nightfall."
"Who needs the best whore's when the cheaper ones are the most fun?" he called out as his friend made her way down the docks.
Laughing, Beshka shook her head and turned around to face him while still walking away. "See, I knew that I liked you for a reason!"