A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / A Family Reunion browse

(OOC - this takes place a year before game start)

It was late one night and the torches were begininning to burn low, when the man in the dress of a Dornish merchant rode up to the gates of Holdfast Castle and craved admission in the name of the man he said was his cousin, the assistant Maester, Rhys.

Siddig Hextall stroked the neck of the northern garron he was riding. The horse had been purchased cheap, traded for an extra case of a particularly foul barc. The Dornishman began to suspect he had the worse end of the deal when his mount shied at the first spattering of rain, and was certain after the third break to allow the horse to catch it's breath on the approach to the mountain passes. The northmen considered dornish horses to be little more than ponies, but Siddig knew those "ponies" could run at a gallop for a full day without tiring. These northern horses had the size of cows, but the stamina of a phlegmatic child.

The horse shied again and turned in a tight circle.

"Ho, Dornish," called one of the men at arms standing watch at the gate. "Do you need riding lessons as well as a free room? I'm sure my six year old daughter could teach you a few tricks to tame that nag." As he and the other guard shared in the laughter, Hex restrained himself from asking what tricks the man had taught his daughter already. The northmen claimed the blood of the First Men ran through their veins, but based on the heavy gut and long beards on both guardsmen, it must have first been filtered through goats.

Bringing the horse under control, Hex again faced the gate. "What are you smiling at, Dornish?" the second guard asked.

"Sirrah, what is there on this night that would not bring a smile to my lips?" Hex replied. "A long, invigorating ride through this brisk northern weather. A bracing douse of rain all the way to keep my attention focussed on the path ahead. A family reunion which will no doubt be all the sweeter for this delay. And in the few heartbeats I have sat on this horse while you dispatch a child to inquire whether I may have an audience with my younger cousin, already I have been doused with the redoubtable Holdfast courtesy."

"A smile? I am astonished I have not yet broke out in joyous song."

Rhys was just feeding some earthworms to the ravens when a breathless messenger arrived at the top of the tower to give him the news.

"If you p ... please, Maester, there ... there's a man at the gate and he says ... he says he's your cousin!"

"Cousin?" Rhys replied incredulously. He had no cousins that he knew of in the area...his family was all down in Dorne. He stood and wiped his hands on his robes. "I'll come down with you and see who this 'cousin' is. Lead on."

The messenger led him down the long steps from the Tower and brought him swiftly to the gate where Rhys saw a familiar but unexpected figure - his cousin Hextall, seated on an ugly-looking Northern garron. as he waited (probably not entirely patiently) at the castle gate.

Rhys paused. "Hex? Hey! Hex!" He covered the remaining distance between them in only a few quick strides. "What the bloody h*ll are you doing this far north?" He exclaimed, his grin threatening to split his face. "Why didn't you send word ahead?"

Keeping the horse steady, Siddig replies. "Cousin Wisdom, well met." Taking a moment to transfer the saddle bags from the horse to his shoulder, the dornishman stands briefly in his stirrups before alighting on the ground. The horse seemed to calm almost immediately.

Keeping the reins firmly in one hand, Hex speaks to his cousin. "Is it true now that you are a maester you must only ask questions, or is that another old wife's tale?"

Rhys laughed.

"In answer to the first, the tides of war and commerce have conspired to keep me away from the sands of Dorne and pushed me further north. Unless I make my fortune soon, I'll be left to trade wine for mouse pelts with the grumkins north of the Wall."

Shifting the saddle bags on his shoulder, Hex continues. "As to the second, what was it Uncle Allayne used to say? 'Dark wings, dark words?' I trust my arrival is not such dire news you need to be forewarned by raven. And, in truth, I wasn't sure about my route until I arrived."

"Well, you've found Holdfast," Rhys said as he eyed Hex's mount. "And I see you also found a nag uglier than yourself to ride. I'm sure that was no mean feat."

Rhys offered to take Hex's saddlebags for him. "Welcome, cousin! Let's warm you up with some mulled wine and a hot fire and you can tell me all the news. Is this a matter to concern the Lord Hardy, or are you here on personal business?"

"Uglier than me?" Hex laughed. "I thought his looks were the only thing he had going. And nothing that brings me here should be of any concern to his lordship. I just thought to stop in while I was passing through."

Rhys nodded, his expression rather relieved.

"If you have a spare stable, I'll put this cow to bed. And please spare me yet another glass of hot sweet wine spiked with cloves and whatever else you scrape off your boots. These northmen's affection for children's sweets remains a mystery to me." Hex shifted his shoulders, causing the contents of the saddle bags to clink. "But if you have a spare goblet or two, I'd be happy to toast this reunion with a fine Dornish vintage, wisdom."

A grin of anticipation spreads across Rhys's face. "Ah...do you know how long it's been since I've had Dornish wine? A servant will see to your horse," he continued, motioning to a young man nearby. "Come. I have some things of interest to show you as well."

Rhys led Hex across the courtyard to a Tower in the distance. Although dark at the bottom, warm firelight lit the windows of the top floor.

"Please see that's he's given a rub down before you stable him, and mix in some oats with his feed," Hex offers to the young man as he flips him a small coin. "

Hex followed his cousin to the tower, and up the stairs to his room. As he set down his bag, the dornishman quickly but thoroughly scanned the room and selected a chair close to the fire with only bare wall to his back.

A loud caw greeted them as Rhys opened the door. A raven, a hurt wing bound against its body, looked Hex up and down with a bright black eye as it perched on a stand by the fire. It cawed again.

Rhys called a greeting to the bird and smiled broadly at Hex's display of old habits. As Hex settled himself, he walked over to a sideboard and retrieved a couple of mugs in anticipation of the promised Dornish wine.

The room Hex found himself in was wedged-shaped, the outer wall curved and cut with two long, narrow windows currently covered with flaps of leather. A closed wardrobe stood against the wall between the windows. The hearth sat on the inner wall, two chairs covered with pelts looking to the banked fire with something that appeared less like a side table and more like a stool between them.

In the dim light Hex could see that a bed with two pillows had its head pushed up against the wall on the other side of the door they entered, undoubtedly to take advantage of as much heat the inner wall could offer. Two pillows and two chairs and two mugs implied Rhys shared the room with someone else.

Hex slipped his chain and scale shirt off, and hung it on the back of the chair before sitting. Opening the bags and beginning to rummage around, he offered. "I have several bottles for your consideration and education, young maester, all from a small vitner near the Marches."

"I'm grateful that my education means so much to you," Rhys smiled as he came back with with the mugs. He set them down and reached over to put a couple of logs on the fire.

Pulling two tall bottles out, he sets them on the table. "The winemaker is a fellow named Lentria, and I call this Lentrian red. Robust, but well suited to washing the dirt out of mouth and a fine compliment to red meat and black bread. Later," Hex again rummaged around before retrieving a tall, narrow bottle.

Finished with poking the fire now that a yellow glow brightly overspilled into the room, Rhys sat down in the other chair and watched with interest as Hex pulled out bottles.

"A desert wine, too sweet to my tastes but perhaps more to your preference after all this time amongst the northmen, a fitting companion to a sharp cheese.

Rhys quirked a corner of his mouth and raised an eyebrow at the implied slight to the north--one of several he'd heard from Hex already and they hadn't even started in on the wine--but left it at that.

And finally," Hex produced a squat bottle with a short neck and deep body. "A little fellow I call Lentrian Fire, more suited to our conniseur's taste than barc but well suited to a long evening of bragging and tall tales."

"Excellent choice," Rhys grinned, holding out his mug. After Hex filled it, Rhys took a good swig, sighed in satisfaction and contentment, then sat back in his chair to examine his cousin. He narrowed his eyes. "So tell me, cos, what mischief are you involved in now? You've come into a bit of wealth, I'll wager, by the quality I see of your boots. Nothing too tame, for you still have your weapons and armor. A middleman or free agent?"

Rhys's grin grew wider. He took another drink of the wine.

"Mischief, cousin wisdom? May the gods protect us. Here I arrive a simple wine seller and already you believe me up to no good. When we last supped I believe I was off to squire for our good cousin in the Marches. And squire I did, never a speck of rust on that good man's armor and always a ready excuse if he was a bit late to assemble." Hex paused to sample the wine.

"Excellent. With time, our good cos' returned to his father and a position as master at arms and hen pecked husband, as is suited to our sandy brethern. But ever the wanderer, I continued in the service of our good lord. Or whichever lord happened to have a sack of copper to pay my way. Suffice to say many bold adventures were had, and dragons and fair maidens both trembled at the bare mention of my name." Siddig took a further sip. "Though for different reasons, I trust."

"Of course," Rhys agreed, still smiling.

"Life as a soldier..." the dornishman paused and drained his cup. He filled his goblet and topped up Rhys'. "Let us say it is not everything the bards present, and with time I'd had my fill of blood and endless marching. In truth I spent as much time scrounging supplies as I did in combat, if not more. And it occured to me that life as a merchant held less promise of a violent end."

"A middleman, you say? I suppose that's true, though I often say 'facillitator.' These towns are filled with thirsty northmen and merchants who would not lower themselves to bargain with Dornish, and Dornish anxious to sell their wares but loath to trust a northborn merchant. And Hex, I say to myself, there's an opportunity for a half breed with a noble heart and pecuniary nature. I've spent the last few years facillitating commerce, and retaining only a small commision for my labours."

Rhys's gaze strayed to Hex's boots.

Hex paused again to sip his wine. "I thought to move beyond the sea ports, and explore new markets here in this barbarous land. And while here, thought to stop in on my dear cousin who appears to have developed a suspicious mind living among these .... worthy nothern gentlemen."

"Less suspicious, and more indicative of past experience. The mind instinctively strives to find patterns in the world around us, that we may better understand it," Rhys stated in a querulous voice, no doubt imitating one of his past instructors.

Rhys paused, considering something, then sat back in his chair.

"I think your decision to become a merchant is a wise one," he continued, making a small joke on the nickname he'd acquired from his cousin. "I even have a request. I need an ongoing supply of sand. Do you think that's something you could furnish?"

Rhys paused, considering something, then sat back in his chair.

"Sand we have in ample supply, cousin." Hex replied. "I think the question is more as to volume, location of quarry and schedule of delivery. If you need sand from a particular place in Dorne or elsewhere, reliable agents could be a problem and I can think of a few captains who sooner scuttle their ships than ship a hull filled with nothing but sand."

Rhys laughed.

"On the other hand, if it's a wagon load or less you require and no certain quality I can likely dredge the beach at whatever northern port is convenient and add a wagon to a regular shipment."

"It's a wagon load or less, but of a certain quality." Rhys stood and walked over to the table, rummaged around a bit, then came back with a small drawstring pouch which he tossed to Hex.

Opening it and spilling some of the contents out onto his palm, Hex saw white sand which glittered prettily in the light from the fire.

"That's what I need," Rhys said. "Quartz sand. That was taken from the beach at Oldtown, but it need not come from there."

"I feel I should be making some righteous defence of the quality of Dornish sand, but shall we just take that as given," replied Hex.

Rhys smiled and made a dismissive gesture.

"If you need it soonest, I can perhaps impose on you to store a few extra bottles of these fine liquors and, if it is not too great a burden, share the odd glass with men of influence? A little sample whets the appetite and loosens the purse strings, I've found."

"Of course. You won't find a lack of customers for this fiery vintage, " Rhys told him, tipping the cup at Hex in an expression of admiration. "For all their foreign ways, these northerners are just like us in their appreciation of fine drink. It's what keeps them warm at night when the obvious isn't available."

The dornishman brought his hands to his temples and raked his long black hair away from his face. Hex looked thoughtful. "I hope to bring a largish shipment of barc. I could pack the barrels in sand along with some other bottles as cushioning and a caution against fire, if you could cover the cost of labourers to shovel and pack the load?"

"Ah. A very resourceful solution..." Rhys trailed off and pondered things for a moment. "I believe I can cover the costs if you'll accept a portion of the finished product back in trade. Would you need payment up front?"

"And what product would that be, cousin?" Hex asked. "I have little use for mud pies or sand castles."

A secretive smile stole across his cousin's face. "I'll show you a little later. Hopefully the clouds will have passed by then."

Hex stood and moved to the fire. Touching a piece of kindling to the flames, he returned to the table. "Have you seen a barc fire, cousin?" He touched the kindling to the remains of the Lentrian brandy, which instantly lit with a flickering blue flame.

Staring at the goblet, the sudden bright light traced dancing shadows across Hex's darker expression. "It feeds on itself and burns all it touches. The heat will melt armour and what it does to bare skin...." Siddig suddenly sets his goblet on top of the flickering blue flame, snuffing it out. "Like the Stranger's living wrath, Rhys."

He looked back at Hex thoughtfully, studying his cousin's face.

Forcing a smile, Hex returned to his seat. "And what's this? I've suddenly grown melancholy and we yet have bottles to drink. Let us talk of more serious matters. Tell me, wisdom, surely all the young maidens yearn to be tangled in your chains?"

"Heh. Vows of celibacy, remember?" Rhys smiled, accepting the shift in conversation. "I share a bed with my great-uncle to keep warm."

Hex coughed as a mouthful of wine went down the wrong pipe. "Oh, cousin, there must have been a hundred ways to say that differently. Surely, though, there are oaths and then there are oaths. Isn't a maester's first duty to explore? I trust there's a ring swollen purple to near bursting in some of these maester's chains."

It was Rhys's turn to sputter then. He laughed, a great belly laugh, born of the warmth of the fiery brandy in his veins. "I've missed your wit, cousin," he proclaimed as he wiped tears from his eyes, still chuckling. "I think that's my cue to change the subject, as you did. Would you like to see that product now? I promise you won't be disappointed."

"I think for family I can dispense with payment in advance," Hex replied and lifted the saddle bag to his shoulder. "Lead on, and let's see this mysterious product."

Rhys gestured to his saddlebags. "You can sleep here if you like. I can have an extra bed brought in. Warmer than anywhere else you're likely to find, though without the extra company, save myself and the Maester."

[Hex's reply]

Rhys finished his drink and stood. He wobbled a slightly, grinned at Hex--"treacherous stuff, that," he remarked--then led the way out the door and up the stairs to the top of the tower.

Whereas, on lower floor, the rooms were bulit in segments around the central screw of the spiral stairs, this top level was flat and open - indeed, there was a trapdoor that could be lowered over the staircase, sealing it off and creating one vast room.

Within there was a desk, and several long tables, two of which were covered with charts. Near one window was a curious device, wihich seemed to be circles of glass arranged at irregular intervals in a framework of delicate wrought iron that presented the form of a large open cylinder. Two more of the long tables also held an assortment of glasswork - beakers and alembics and curious devices of copper. On one of the glasswork tables it appeared a second device was being built, akin to the one by the window.

Against the wall a bookcase held more than twenty books - some of which were in the style of one which was open by the charts, its pages half-filled with small, neat handwriting.

Near the bookcase were open shelves on which were arranged a vast variety of phials and small wooden boxes. Pinned to the top were drying herbs.

And there were windows, all with heavy shutters and all closed against the night air, save for the one near the curious device of glass lenses and wrought iron.

Hex shrugged against the saddle bags hanging over his shoulder, the now familiar clink of bottles echoed in the room. "So, cousin, you have invented a stone room? Useful, but a bit awkward to transport I should think."

"Hard to build, too. Not much of a profit in the end. No, dear cos, this is want I wanted to show you..." Rhys guided Hex toward the curious device.

It was cold in this part of the room, no doubt due to the unshuttered window. A brazier with glowing coals rested on a flat rock on the floor nearby, offering heat and some dim light.

"Good, it's clear," Rhys determined as he glanced at the night sky. The young Maester stooped and brought the glass and iron device around, sighting along its length out the window like an archer sighting along his arrow. He stood and gestured to the end of the contraption. "Here, Hex...look through here and tell me what you see."

As Hex bent to look through the contraption the way Rhys did, a bright pale shape gleamed, captured in the glass, twin in color to the moon up above.

"You'll have to adjust your distance from the eyepiece until it comes sharply in focus," Rhys explained. "The moon is waxing, just past the first quarter, so you should be able to see quite a few features."

The pale shape in the glass blurred to nothing, then came back sharper into focus as Hex played with his postiion. Then suddenly Hex saw it. The moon, only so much bigger, amazingly bigger. He saw dark blotches on the surface with smaller, almost white blotches among the dark. The first-quarter shadow traced a gentle curve across the moon and the surface showed rough there at the shadow line, like a pock-marked face.

"I see, perhaps, a desert and mountains?" Hex answered. "Remarkable, cousin." Hex pulled back to look at the smiling Rhys. "I saw a similar trick done with a lamp and an etching of a dancing girl in the back of a Tyroshi public house. Though that was perhaps more carnal, and this more ethereal as suited to the intellectual bent of the maesters."

"Indeed," Rhys replied, shaking his head in amusement. "My uncle has been quite successful in his experimentation with various lenses. Although a curiosity, this viewer..." and Rhys gestured to the crude telescope, "...is merely that to the common man--a curiosity. It won't sell, except to perhaps the very rich. This however..."

Rhys led Hex over to the table littered with glass and wrought iron and other sundry parts. He picked up a circle of glass and held it up for Hex to see.

"This is a burning glass, " Rhys explained. "I can demonstrate more fully when the sun is up, but you can see the property here even with the weak light of the candle." He held the glass up to the flame and placed his other hand on the far side. A dim circle of light appeared on his palm, shifting with the flickering of the flame, and he adjusted the position of his hand until the circle shrank to a small, bright point. Rhys looked up and handed the glass circle to Hex. "Using the sun with the glass will focus enough light and heat to start a fire in a pile of tinder."

The glass was heavier than Hex expected, perhaps, about thee-quarters the size of his palm in width and half a knuckle in depth, thickest in the middle and curving gently to thin at the edges.

"What do you think, cousin?" Rhys smiled. "Can you sell a few of these in exchange for a cartful of mere sand?"

"A cartful of sand is just as likely to tip and crush the driver, or bog down in a marsh, or face bandit attack as one filled with gold, cousin." Hex replied. "It is not the cargo, but the journey, that can be costly. But, yes, I can certainy find a use for your glass."

He reached out and gripped Hex's shoulder. "Wonderful," Rhys said, his eyes twinkling. "Good doing business with you. Here, you can keep that burning glass for yourself."

Rhys paused then, hand still on Hex's shoulder, and caught his cousin's eye. "Will you tell me about the barc fire?" he asked quietly.

Hex looked into his cousin's trusting eyes. He had been ten when he went into the desert with Rhys. Two young boys, castle born, castle bred. Excited to finally experience the sandy life and be among their mothers' people. Secretly terrified. What if they weren't strong enough? What if they embarrased themselves? And foremost in Hex's mind, what if everything Byron said was true? What if his people, the dornish, were nothing but savages? Would he be killed in the middle of the night, or face the even worse terrors his half brother had explained in such flowery detail? Each boy took strength from the other. Neither would let his cousin down.

[Hex flashed back to IncidentAtFarPort

"Hex? You're a million miles away. You all right?" Rhys asked, concern evident in his voice and eyes.

"Not a million, cousin." Hex rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands. "Do you remember when we went into the sands? Two young castle boys, not twenty name days between us?"

"Sure," Rhys replied, remembering. "We were both so excited..."

Hex sat down on the edge of a table, and pulled another bottle of wine from the saddlebag laying across his shoulders. Staring at the bottle, he continued. "How we'd gather around the fire at night, quiet as mice, and listen to the old veterans tell their stories. Raids against the northmen, women stolen from the Marches. At least until that grizzled old Athrek would chase us off to our tents."

Hex looked up at his cousin and smiled. "Do you know we're older now than Athrek was then? Those stories, always some funny little thing. A thrown shoe, a rusty blade, tripping over their own feet."

Rhys raised his eyebrows at the age revelation as he followed Hex's example and leaned against a nearby table. He crossed his arms as he regarded his cousin.

Hex looked back at the bottle. "I've been on campaign. I've lead night time raids. They aren't funny little stories, Rhys, they're filled with blood, and sh i t and fear. Such fear. You can drown in it, feel it filling your lungs like cold water."

Carefully setting the bottle on the table beside him, Hex looked into his cousin's eyes. "Tell me, wisdom, should Athrek and the others have told us the truth around those campfires? Should they have told us about the fear and the pain and the blood?"

Rhys didn't reply, sensing that Hex wasn't done talking. He listened instead, meeting Hex's gaze and not flinching from it.

"Wouldn't we have hated them for it?" Hex searched his cousin's eyes. "I came to love those men in the desert. I think they were good men. But now I know, like me, they had done bad things. Terrible things. I could not have loved them had I known that then."

"Tell me, cousin wisdom, would you have had Athrek tell you the worst thing about him?"

"Athrek had good stories, did he not?" Rhys replied evenly. "Do you remember the little knights he whittled for us so we could play war, even though wood was scarce? And he taught us important things, like how to spit."

Rhys smiled lightly and let his gaze drop.

"Men are not black and white, but you know that, Hex. Those men in the desert, the ones that had done terrible things, they also loved their wives and were gentle with their children. They joked and sang and laughed around the fire. They taught us to hunt and to find water and to ride a horse."

Rhys paused, then looked back up at his cousin's face. "Maybe they told the stories not to lie to us, but to lie to themselves because the truth was too hard to bear."

"A shared lie, to lighten the load." Hex considered. "Perhaps you are right, Rhys. In any event, I've seen your fire lenses and you've tasted my wine. I suggest we find a warm fire, and perhaps a tisane to ease the headaches that will no doubt plague us tomorrow morning."

Rhys smiled again, his easy-going smile that Hex remembered from their childhood. "I suppose I can provide that. And the fire."

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, CastleHoldfast