The Shadow Lord

[Wyllam]

The skies were cold and gray and the clouds delivered an unforgiving rain that chilled each man to their bones, but it wasn't going to stop the men of Ravenhold from going about their daily duties. The master-at-arms, Ser Erek Lonsaw was out in the training yard bundled up in a thick fur cloak yelling at fresh recruits who weren't wielding their steel they way he had instructed. Under the protection of a recently constructed tent men from the Rathmore delegation watched and guffawed at the young guardsmen as they trained. The two recruits in the yard were barely over fifteen and neither had held a sword of any kind before, mistakes were to be expected. Still the Rathmore delegation laughed and scoffed when one of the boys stumbled or took a hard hit from their opponent. Their blades were tourney blades, dulled to not cause any real injury but even a dulled sword was still a sword.

One of the recruits hit the other with a cringe-worthy blow on the back right square between the shoulder blades which caused the poor boy to yelp and fall to the ground. The Rathmores were practically rolling with laughter. Wyllam could see the set to Ser Erek's jaw and knew that trouble was brewing. Under the tent housing the Rathmores were Lord Cameryn's three sons: Harlen the oldest and strongest brother, Weylan the smartest brother and Masen the youngest brother. All three of them were indeed accomplished swordsmen in their own right but even they had been exactly where the two recruits in the yard were at some point. Ser Erek's arms dropped to his sides and he made to turn towards the tent but Wyllam grabbed hold of his arm.

“No, they're still drunk on wine from last night.” he said. “Let them laugh. If your recruits can't take some heckling then they won't be able to handle a man trying to take their head off in battle.”

Ser Erek growled. “Its a distraction they don't need.”

“Aye, but there are many distractions in battle. Maybe its for the best that they learn how to tune them out now instead of later.”

The master-at-arms shrugged and shot the Rathmore tent a dirty look. “I'd like to see them square off against Lord Edwen in the training yard. They wouldn't be laughing then.”

Wyllam smiled, despite the fresh black eye that he was sporting courtesy of his older brother. “I'd wager he could teach the Rathmores quite a thing or two about swordsmanship.”

Erek was the same age as Edwen, twenty-two years old and already a very accomplished warrior. He was the eldest son of the previous master-at-arms who had been killed in a hunting accident a few years ago. Wyllam's father had decided to pass the title of master-at-arms down to him after long conversations with his small council and some added badgering from Edwen and Erek's cousin Jafer, the captain of the guard. Erek held the lofty distinction of being the second best sword in Ravenhold behind Edwen and had produced a very high-quality of soldier from the training yards since taking up the job. Wyllam agreed that it would be fun to watch his older brother take the Rathmore brood on in a sparring match. The only one of the three brothers that probably stood a chance against him was the big one Harlen. As much as he cared for Chelsie he cared very little for her family. They were very much like their father, clad in purple and gold velvet, their fingers were adorned with large gleaming jewels and they were surrounded by the whores that had been brought with them concealed as handmaidens.

“Though I'd wager you'd be able to teach them a thing or two as well Wyllam.” Ser Erek said.

Wyllam snorted. “Without a doubt, but I'm still not as dangerous as my brother with a blade.”

“Aye, have you seen the sword your father presented to him yesterday?”

“No.” Wyllam said. He had heard the rumbling throughout the guards who had heard it from the handmaidens who served Alessa that Edwen had been given a magnificent blade. An expensive piece of steel adorned with silver and onyx and gleamed like the light of a full moon. He highly doubted that his father would ever present him with a gift like that. Especially if he married someone like Chelsie.

Erek let out a low whistle. “Its quite a piece of steel. I saw it this mornin' when Lord Edwen came down to the barracks to speak with Jafer.”

“What did he want with Jafer?”

Erek shrugged. “He wanted to talk about the ride out of Ravenhold with the Bellistars last night. Don't know why, Jafer and his group came back in one piece.”

“You know Edwen, he likes to get his reports firsthand.” Wyllam said pulling his shadowcat cloak closer around him as the wind picked up. “I still can't believe he let the Bellistars into the wedding.”

“Aye, just a bunch as sour fucks pissin' and moanin' about losin' shit that was never theirs to begin with.” Erek said. “Invitin' the fucks to the weddin' was just askin' for trouble. The Rathmores had somethin' to do with it didn't they?”

“That's what Edwen says.”

“Maybe your....friend could shed some light on what exactly their connection is?” Erek said trying to be discreet and avoid saying Chelsie's name.

Wyllam appreciated the attempt but sighed heavily. “I wont be in any position to ask today, and I doubt the last thing she would want to do is talk about the Bellistars.”

Erek gave him a knowing grin. “And what do you suppose she'd want to do instead?

Wyllam grinned back.

“Its no secret you two fancy each other, we've all seen the looks on your faces when you're together in the same room. Can't keep your eyes off each other.”

“I promised Edwen I wouldn't let her get in the way of my daily duties.” Wyllam said. “He made it very clear that he doesn't want father suspecting what me and Chelsie might be up to.”

“Good man, your brother. Always lookin' out for you, even though your big enough to take on a wild boar by yourself.” Erek said turning back to his trainees and swearing at one of them for dropping his blade in the mud. “I tell you Wyllam I don't know how my father did it for all those years, trainin' snot nosed kids like these and turnin' 'em into soldiers like you, Jafer and Edwen.”

“You're doing a fine job of it Erek, your father would be proud.”

“He'd more likely be puttin' a boot in my ass and tellin' me I was doin' somethin' wrong.” Erek laughed. “He always had more patience for his trainees than he ever did with me.”

“Fathers expect more from their sons.” Wyllam said. “I know from experience.”

“You're the second-born of the Lord of Ravenhold, of course your father was going to expect more from you.” Erek said crossing his arms under his cloak. “You turned out alrigh', you're captain of the Lord's Honor Guard.”

Wyllam could only grunt. It wasn't exactly an honor to be the captain of his father's honor guard. It was mostly following him around the holdings and making sure that he wasn't slain by the wildlings that were slipping past the Nights Watch at the Wall and standing by his side while his father talked of business with lesser lords or the occasional envoy from Kings Landing. It was those tiresome meetings that often made him want to drive his blade through his own skull. Edwen had always been more inclined towards the business part of their father's duties, even before he'd began to be groomed for the lordship of Ravenhold. Swords were his older brothers life, their father always said that if Edwen hadn't been born as a lord he would most likely have been born as a smith and an incredible smith at that. Wyllam grinned, Alessa may have been happier if Edwen had been a smith instead of a lord in waiting. Erek tapped him on the shoulder and pointed towards the tent that the Rathmores had taken shelter under. His father and brother, flanked by Jafer and a trio of his knights, were making their way towards Lord Rathmore and looking not to happy.

“Better go an' make sure that things don't get too out of hand there.” Erek said.

“You're probably right.” Wyllam said as he turned towards the Rathmores and left Erek to his recruits.

Before he even got to the tent he could already see that his father and brother were arguing with the Rathmores and the biggest brother Harlen was glaring at Edwen. Suddenly the possibility of a sword fight between the two of them looked rather imminent. Jafer saw him walking towards the tent and stepped out from under the fabric. His brown hair was matted with rain already, his dark eyes set in a grim expression.

“What is wrong?” Wyllam asked as he reached the captain of the guard.

“Men from Rathmore's party got rough with the smallfolk last night and caused some damage to the tavern.” Jafer said. “His son Harlen took a group to Eveswood and hurt a few of the girls at the brothel, Feldin is furious and wants Lord Grayer to make it right.”

Eveswood was a small village just on the border of the Wolfswood within the boundaries of Ravenhold and less than an hour from the keep. It was a small hub of commerce for the weapons that were made in the Cold Forges, all of them sent to Eveswood and then carried to White Harbor to be shipped to the houses who procured them. The brothel that had been visited by the Rathmores was owned by Feldin Murring who happened to own the trading company that carried Grayer steel to White Harbor. Wyllam's father always went out of his way to placate the man even though he didn't care for some of his other business endeavors such as the brothel. Sure there were other companies that could carry the weapons to White Harbor, but none as close or cheap as the one in Eveswood.

If his father did nothing it would anger Feldin who would then most likely threaten to end their business arrangement which would then push back the shipping schedule that the smiths in Ravenhold strictly adhered to. It would take days to get another company up to Ravenhold to collect the weapons, which would make delivery to the ships in White Harbor longer which in turn would result in the customer receiving their goods a lot later than expected. It was a headache that wasn't needed, not with the possibility of problems with House Bellistar looming after the previous nights incident.

“I will not pay some lousy whore house operator who claims his ratty shit hole was damaged by my men!” Cameryn Rathmore bellowed at Wyllam's father. Rathmore was a purple-faced walrus of a man clad in gold and purple silks and velvets. “For all you know those damages occurred months ago during some drunken brawl. This Feldin Murring is taking you for a fool Grayer, he saw well dressed lords from another house coming to take in his services and decided to try and make a little extra profit by blaming them.”

“What do you say about the damages your men caused in the tavern here in our keep Lord Rathmore?” Edwen asked calmly. “Surely you don't mean to say that two of our esteemed business colleagues would try to cheat you out of a few coppers?”

“Who's to say they wouldn't?” Harlen hissed. “The two of them could have conspired together.”

“Possibly, but I think not. Our guards were there to break up the hostilities you and your brothers started.” Edwen shot back. “Are you going to claim they were in on this....conspiracy?”

“Guards can be bought here in Ravenhold just as easily as they can anywhere else.” Lord Rathmore snorted as he grabbed his wine goblet. “A man would say anything if it put a few coppers in his pocket.”

Jafer stepped forward. “Not my guards. If they say that men from House Rathmore caused damages in our tavern and at a brothel in a town under our protection then it is the truth.” He growled. “The only liar here Lord Rathmore is you.”

Harlen shot out of his seat and pointed at Jafer. “How dare you speak to the lord of House Rathmore like that! I should cut out your tongue and feed it to the dogs.”

Jafer crossed his large arms over his chest. “You would do well to remember you are no lord here Harlen, you are but a worm amongst crows ripe for the picking.”

Harlen's face went red with rage and he reached for his sword as he sputtered “You insolent bastard-”

But before he could say anymore a slender figure clad in a dark cloak slid between him and the group of Grayer men. Alessa fixed her older brother with a dark stare.

“Father, Harlen, please think about what you are doing.” She pleaded. “You are refusing to do as your liege lord commands, men have been beheaded for much less!”

Harlen snorted. “We caused no damage last night, this Feldin Murring just wants to milk all he can from the influx of wealthy lords in his town.”

Alessa fixed her eyebrows in a look of incredulity. “I don't believe that anymore than Lord Grayer does. Pay the price of the damages and lets put this foolishness to bed.”

“You've been in this hold for far too long sister, you forget who you are talking to.” Harlen said.

Alessa inhaled and stood at her full height which was almost chest level of the two men she was standing between.

“I know full well who I am talking to,” She said quietly. “It is you who forgets who he is talking to. I am not your little sister, I am the wife of a Lord of House Grayer and you will do what I tell you!”

Lord Rathmore stood up from his chair just as Harlen reached back and smacked Alessa across her face hard enough to drop her to the ground. In a single instant Wyllam saw the lesser lord's face twist into a look of horror as Edwen, Jafer and the other knights of Ravenhold engulfed Harlen in a pile of leather, mail and steel. In the next instant Weylan Rathmore jumped into the fray to aid his older brother followed by the youngest brother Masen and the guardsmen of House Rathmore. Wyllam wanted to jump in and aid his brother, but as commander of the Lord's Guard he had other duties. Forcefully he grabbed his father around the bicep and hauled him out and away from the melee under the Rathmore tent.

“Ser Erek!” he shouted to training yard behind him. The master-at-arms came rushing over with the castellan Varrin Ashfield and a dozen other guards who began to wade into the battle of fists, feet and teeth waging below. In a quick second Wyllam saw Alessa curled up in a ball under the weight of several dozen men trying to cover her face as best she could. “Father stay here with Ser Erek.”

Before anyone could say something he was wading into the brawl. A Rathmore guard grabbed him by the shoulder and aimed a heavy blow at his head, but just like Harlen and his brothers the guard was too drunk on wine and missed his mark. Wyllam grabbed him by the front of his tunic and rammed his forehead into the Rathmore guard's face, breaking the mans nose. He felt the warm spray of blood hit his face as he let go of the screaming guard and reached down to where he had last seen his sister-in-law. He found a slender arm that could only be hers and pulled hard, moving her out of the bloody mess as more guardsmen from the keep came rushing in to break up the fight. Alessa tripped over an unmoving body and fell against his chest, Wyllam adjusted his grip and grabbed her under her arms and dragged her out of the tent to safety. She managed to regain her footing and stood shakily as Wyllam let go of her. Her face was red where her brother had slapped her and her bottom lip was split and bleeding freely.

Ryden shoved Wyllam out of the way and walked back towards the tent. “Enough of this!” He bellowed loudly. The melee came to a stop and all eyes turned towards the lord of Ravenhold. “I will not have my vassal brawling with the guards of my keep!”

Slowly the two group broke apart trading heated glances at each other. Edwen and Jafer emerged from the tangle of Grayer guardsman, bloodied and bruised. The Rathmore brothers had faired far worse, Harlen was unconscious on the ground with his face shrouded in a thick sheen of blood, Weylan was sitting up cradling an arm his expensive silks caked in mud. Masen had suffered the least amount of damage, sporting an already blackened eye and a split lip. Edwen stopped and turned and went back to the beaten Rathmore siblings. He bent over Harlen's body and began removing the expensive golden trinkets that adorned his fingers and hung around his neck. He then moved on to Weylan and Masen and had little trouble in convincing them to hand over their gold trinkets as well. Wyllam and his father looked on trading uncertain glances as Edwen turned to face Lord Rathmore.

“Hand it over.” Edwen growled. His gray leather tunic was matted with mud and the blood of Harlen Rathmore, the short-sleeved mail shirt he was wearing under his leathers was missing a few links and blood was weeping out from under the right sleeve.

Rathmore glared at Edwen. “How dare you!”

Edwen stepped closer. “Hand. It. Over!” His eyes were wild with fury. Reluctantly Rathmore began to remove his rings from his fat fingers and handed them over to the young lord. The old lesser lord huffed and showed his hands.

“There, that's all of it.”

“The necklace.” Edwen said pointing at the gold chain with a miniature golden eagle hanging from it. “That goes to.”

“This necklace has been handed down to the each lord of House Rathmore to the next. I will not relinquish it to you Lord Grayer.”

“Yes you will,” Edwen said eerily calmly. “Or I will put you in the mud alongside your sons.”

“This is an outrage.” Rathmore said as he slipped the chain over his head and deposited it in Edwen's outstretched hand.

“Should have just paid the damages like your daughter told you to.” Edwen said as he turned around. “It would have been a lot less costly to your house.”

The Grayers all walked away from the tent and the smallfolk began to disperse. Ryden looked at his oldest son with some disappointment.

“Was all of that really necessary?” he asked Edwen. “Did you need to rob them to get your point across? Was a bloody beating not enough for you?”

Edwen gave his father a sour look as he dropped the Rathmore gold into a small silk sack and tied it around his belt. “I didn't rob them, this is how they're going to pay for the damages in the tavern and to Mr. Murring in Eveswood.” He examined the gold necklace that Rathmore said had been passed from lord to lord in his house. Alessa stepped up beside him.

“I would like to have that.” She said. “It would greatly anger my brother to see me wearing it.”

Edwen smiled and handed it to her. “As far as I am concerned my lady, you are the true ruler of House Rathmore. Wear it proudly.” He said with a smile. She fastened it around her neck and fingered the miniature eagle. Edwen put an arm around her an steered her towards the keep. “Lets get you to the maester.”

She let him steer her away from the training yard and then turned around and walked back over to Wyllam.

“Thank you.” she said as she stood up on her toes and kissed him on the cheek. He bowed his head and smiled.

“Just doing my job, my lady.”

Alessa smiled and walked back to Edwen and the pair of them disappeared into the keep a few moments later.

Ryden growled in disgust. “He should have handled that better. You do not start a brawl to deal with that situation.”

“Harlen struck his wife right in front of him.” Wyllam said, it wasn't often he had to stand up for his brother. “What would you have done if it had been mother? Would you have tried to talk it out?”

Ryden fixed his youngest son with a tired set of eyes. “The age of fist fights and brawls is behind me Wyllam, but if I were thirty years younger....I would have caved that man's head in.”

“So you have no right to be angry with Edwen then.” he grinned at his father. “You would have killed the man, all Edwen did was beat him senseless.”

Ryden sighed. “True, it was only yesterday I was telling your mother that Edwen is the cooler head amongst the two of you. Now today Edwen is brawling in the training yard and you're standing on the edge of it protecting your lord and your sister-in-law.”

“Things will get back to normal once its only our house occupying this hold.” Wyllam said. “What are you going to do about Rathmore and his open defiance of a direct order?”

“I will treat it as a man too drunk on strongwine to see what he was doing.” Ryden said. “I think your brother delivered a fair enough punishment. Humiliation in front of all these other lords will suffice for now.”

“If it happens again?”

“I will take his head and put someone more reliable in his place.” He turned and beckoned to Jafer who was standing a few feet away chatting with his cousin Ser Erek. “Jafer I want guards watching the Rathmores for the rest of the day. Make sure that the men you choose didn't have any part in the brawl today. I want no more problems for the rest of their stay.”

Jafer bowed. “I'll see that it is done.”

“Go clean yourself up first though, are you well?”

“A few scratches and cuts my lord, I've suffered worse.” Jafer said dismissively.

Ryden nodded and waved him away. “Alright off with you then.”

“At least you know that the captain of the guard is loyal to your heir.” Wyllam said. “He sprang into the fight before any of the other guards did.”

“Aye, Jafer and your brother have been friends since before they could walk.” Ryden said. “The man is one of our finest soldiers, him and Ser Erek keep the guards in fine shape.”

Wyllam could only laugh, “It would do him well to hear you say that father. Some of the new recruits have him frustrated to the point where people will soon be calling him Ser Erek the Grayer.”

Ryden shot him a sour look. “I suppose I deserved that, I haven't been the most loving of fathers when it comes to you recently. I trust you know its nothing to do with you?”

“I know why you are angry with me.” Wyllam said not really looking forward to the conversation he knew would come eventually. “You're angry because of Chelsie.”

“Aye,” Ryden said as he put his hand on his second-born's shoulder and steered him towards the tavern. “I can't have you marrying a bastard, especially one from a lesser house.”

“And because she is the daughter of Lord Rathmore.”

Ryden inhaled sharply. “One Rathmore daughter in this family is enough. I want no more interaction with that man than I have to absolutely have to endure.”

Wyllam couldn't fault his father for that. Cameryn Rathmore was a poor man's Robert Baratheon, whoring and spending more than he could afford.

“Have you even had a conversation with Chelsie? She is much more than just a bastard from a vassal house, she's every bit as smart as Alessa is.”

“I can appreciate your attraction to a smart woman Wyllam but another union with House Rathmore doesn't gain our house anything.” Ryden said. “Lord Ristan of House Darre has offered his daughter Jennica's hand in marriage to you.”

“House Darre?” Wyllam said racking his brain to recall the name. “That's one of Jon Arron's vassals isn't it?”

“Aye it is and a wealthy one with connection in King's Landing, the one place we have yet to secure contracts for our steel.” Ryden said.

“Lord Ristan has promised to help you secure those contracts if I take his daughter's hand.” Wyllam guessed.

“Yes.” Ryden said. Wyllam couldn't help but feel his father's eyes burrowing into the side of his head as they walked. “I want you to consider the proposal.”

Wyllam didn't have time to reply, as they were walking through the crowd of smallfolk who were still dispersing after the altercation between the Rathmores and Grayer guards, they walked right into Chelsie who had come out of the Great Hall once word of the fight had made its way inside. She had been craning her head around the area where the Rathmores were still collecting themselves after the scuffle, probably looking for her sister.

“Sorry,” she said dismissively as she looked up at Ryden. Her eyes went wide as recognition lit up her eyes. “Lord Ryden! My apologise, I wasn't paying attention to where I was walking. I was looking for someone.”

Wyllam saw his father's eyes narrow. “And who were you looking for child? Your troublesome brothers or your beastly father?” Ryden asked crossing his large arms over his chest and glaring down at her.

Chelsie fixed him with the same defiant stare she had given Edwen the previous night before she had smacked him. If she smacked the lord of Ravenhold a severe punishment was all but certain.

“Edwen took your sister to the maester,” Wyllam said quickly trying to defuse a very volatile situation before it erupted. “She had a few cuts a bruises he wanted to get looked at.”

Chelsie bowed her head. “Thank you, Lord Grayer.” she stepped around the two of them and headed towards the keep.

Wyllam could feel the anger brewing in the pit of his stomach as he watched her walk away. The anger didn't take long to form into ice-cold decision and he looked back at his father.

“I will agree to marry Lord Ristan's daughter on one condition.” Wyllam said.

Suspicion fell on his father's face. “What condition?”

“You look the other way when it comes to me and Chelsie for the rest of the week.”

“Absolutely not!” Ryden thundered.

“Then I will not marry Lord Darre's daughter and you don't get your King's Landing deal.” Wyllam said continuing on towards the tavern.

“Wait.” Ryden said grabbing his bicep and pulling him back. “For the rest of the week, and then when the Rathmores are gone this business is put to bed and I never hear the name Chelsie Snow again!”

“Deal.” Wyllam said though the words hurt him to say.

“Get this bastard girl out of your system and for the love of the Gods do not get her pregnant. It is one complication I do not need.” Wyllam nodded and his father clapped his hands together. “Great, I will send word to Lord Ristan immediately. It will take him two weeks to travel here from South Rise, he will want to introduce Jennica to her new husband as soon as possible.”

Wyllam was overjoyed as he bid his father farewell and turned to follow Chelsie into the keep, if he had only a few days left with her then he was going to make them all count.