A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / Meeting the New Steward browse

Derron's meeting was announced before supper. Already the castle was in a buzz - word of the Steward's behaviour and his subsequent imprisonment had spread through the castle (and probably the town beyond ) like wildfire. There was excitement, anticipation - and some apprehension - when it was announced that Derron Thorne would be taking charge, and that he would meet all the heads in the Lower Hall after supper.

Certainly when Derron made his way there, he found he had full attendance - from the stoutly belligerent chief cook to the sour-faced head groom who was telling all and sundrey that he =knew= he had been charged over the odds for oats, but that Derron Thorne would put it right.

As he descended the steps a slightly uneasy silence fell on the assembled group.

Derron was holding two things in his large hands. He set the large ledger down on the main table, then took a few steps and handed a large black skillet out towards the chief cook. He said plainly, "Sorry it's late." He then turned and once more stood by the main table. He had planned what to say, but now couldn't recall a word of it. He cleared his throat and just began, hoping the words would come.

"I know you've all heard the news. I am now the Acting Steward." He paused, swallowed, then went on. "From here on out, things are going to change." He picked up the ledger. "I've been over the accounts of each group, from the cooks to the maids to the grooms to the groundskeepers. I know that the previous Steward was cheating the house. He is going to be punished severely. But I hate to say this, his slack attitude seems to have spread. Beeswax candles for every room in the manor. Bread purchased, instead of flour used to bake it here. New tack and harness when old could have been repaired. This stops now. Until I am comfortable, I am going to eye every single account and purchase. And every group will stay within budget. If you have used up all your funds for the month and find you need something more, you may come to me and present your case. Either I will grant you the funds, or you will have to make do. If you wish, you may sell some excess stock you possess and use those funds."

He stopped a moment in an attempt to gauge the room. No one was speaking under their breath as far as he could tell. "Now I will confide to you all that I did not ask for this position. I even argued not to give it to me. But His Lordship insisted. We have made an agreement. If I can find someone who can do the job well, and with the respect of all he will work with, he will be given the position. So, while many of you may not like this, the easiest way to get me off your backs is to either find a replacement for me, or do your jobs, staying within budget, well enough that I stop overseeing. If anyone objects strongly, you may collect your wages and a letter of recommendation." He waited for any comments or questions.

He was hoping that some heads would agree with him, and that some would argue. He could dismiss any he felt needed it, and see if their assistant could handle the job.

And it was, in fact, easy to see where the sudden smiles and the sense of deep approval came from - and those who looked startled, or shifty, or just plain displeased by the new state of affairs. The group around the groom of the chambers looked particularly unimpressed (perhaps because they saw their access to the Lord's wine cellars suddenly tramelled. And Derron heard a low whsper from a thin faced clerk who stood near the Clerk of Works, whose mouth had set in a thin line of disapproval.

"Dustin's dog ... "

Derron spoke sharply, "What's that?" No response from the clerk. "Spit it out, man. You always have the right to speak your mind to me. Have the nerve to stand by your words. I will dismiss you now if you don't explain yourself. If you can explain yourself, you may save your position." He was honest about that. If the man were open with him, he would deal fairly with him. But backbiters he would simply rid the manor of.

The clerk looked startled - and then sullen. "Nothing. I didn't say anything."

The Clerk of Works puffed himself up - the man was clearly spoiling for a fight; perhaps he thought he should have been chosen as Steward. Perhaps he would have been if his demands upon the household purse for household repairs had been less outrageously inflated - or even if there was some sign that his men had made the repairs with the materials they had been paid to use. The sums suggested that at least one wall in the Castle should be lined with goldleaf, the amount that had been spent.

Derron glared at the thin-lipped clerk. "Own your words, man, or begin packing. If you have something to say, say it. I respect someone who has the courage to tell me to my face I am wrong." He waited for the man's response.

"You can't do that!" said the clerk hotly. "There's nothing wrong with me work - nothing at all!"

He then looked at the Clerk of Works. "Have you anything to say? You look as if you have something on your mind."

"You've no right to threaten someone who looks to me!" said the Clerk of Works with a note of bluster in his manner. "Pliant ius a good worker - I won't have you turn him off for something he might not have said anyway."

Derron straightened, which added another inch to his considerable stature. As with some tall men, he was uncomfortable with it and slumped slightly. He glared at the Clerk and said, "First, I heard him. And I am sure others did as well. Second, now that I am Steward, I *DO* have the right." He flipped open the ledger and added, "Finally, from the accounts here, I'd say you have even more explaining to do than he does. Look at this! You've received more gold crowns for repairs, repairs that I know are still needed, in the last three months than all of last year! Tell me, do you simply have workers who do nothing and get paid, or are you storing the funds and hoping to get a better price by having them all done at once?" Derron was normally very slow to anger. He could become annoyed easily, but to be truly angry took a lot of provocation. This was well known in the area, and certainly in the household. But the tone of his voice indicated he was close to boiling.

"Are you going to tell us all how to run our offices, Derron Thorne?" responded the Clerk of Works, his face reddening with anger (and, perhaps, alarm at being called to account). "You don't understand building work ... it takes time ... it needs to be done with love, and care. And the materials ... take time to come ... "

He seemed to realise the weakness of his own arguments for her turned and appealed to the crowd. "Would you have the Smith put over you by the Dustin usurper? Would him have him tell you how to conduct your affairs?"

The crowd were muttering and shifting uneasily. Some seemed reluctant to support Derron but, on the other hand, the Clerk of Works was well known as a bully - few would want to follow his lead.

Suddenly a new voice spoke - Fletch, the head groom.

"I've always known Derron Thorne to be an honest man," he said deliberately.

A ripple seemed to pass over the crowd, as though they recognised the truth of his words. They might not like what Derron was telling them, but they agreed that he was honest. And Derron sensed they were moving to his side.

The Clerk of Works sensed it too, for his reddened face became almost purple.

"And you're saying that I'm not?" he roared. "Well? Which of you dares to look me in the face and say I'm not honest?"

Derron had felt a moment of relief when Fletch had spoken in his defense. He spoke firmly, with his voice not boominjg, but somehow cutting through the chatter of the room. "I say so. Guards!" Ser Tomas had loaned him a pair of burly men-at-arms, who now stepped into the room. This was going to be Derorn's trump card. He knew he had to make a point with one of them, and this was the time and person. "Take the Clerk of Works to the cells, near his partner in mischief, the former Steward." He once more turned the Clerk. "You will be held in confinement until the repairs listed in this book are completed. Then you will be released and sent on your way. Now, you can speed up the process by supplying the funds. After all, you've taken the pay for them. So it would be in your interest to give over the funds, otherwise we will search your rooms. If the money is gone, your time in a cell will be longer. Or we could sell some of your fine silk clothes for some of it. So, I ask you once. Where is your money hidden?" Regardless, he would search the man's rooms.

The Clerk goggled at him for a moment, his mouth working without any sound coming out.

"I know where he keeps it," said a new, deep voice. A young man with a thick thatch of fair hair and a burly build pushed his way to the front of the crowd. He looked at Derron, his colour a little raised by being the focus of attention, but he met Derron's gaze steadily.

"He keeps it under his bed," he said. "In a locked box of iron."

The Clerk of Works endeavoured to break free of the guards and go for the young man's throat.

Derron stepped in between the youth and the Clerk, raising his hand to stop the man in his tracks. If he didn't stop, Derron had no qualms about punching the windbag in his breadbasket.

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Derron said to the young man, "Thank you." He was loathe to reward the lad, since he might be an accomplice seeing which way the wind was blowing. "The next senior clerk will take the position for now. Now, Cook!" The woman faced Derron, looking both nervous and defiant. "I know you've already paid for tomorrow's bread. First thing after breakfast, you will purchase flour, and resume baking bread in the kitchens."

The woman squirmed, then said, "Um, I've no funds for flour anymore."

Derron had expected it, and replied immediately, "Well, since baking is part of what you're paid to do, your wages will be garnished, as will your assistants, and those funds will be used to get the kitchens back to normal. Does that sound fair to you?" The woman obviously wanted to argue, but suddenly looked as though the air had been let out of her. She nodded. Derron addressed the crowd and asked, "Now, who wants to go next? Hm?"

One by one, the heads of the depoartments reported to him. Though none made the mistake of disagreeing on the scale of the Clerk of Works, several were showed a veiled hostility that was troubling because harder to confront. At least two groups (the Nursery and the Laundry) saw this as a chance to wage a longstanding feud by other means, and it took little imagination to foresee a long stream of complaints from both quarters. But, to balance this, other areas seemed profoundly relieved to have a man with a reputation for fair dealing at the helm at last.

Derron finally finished what he had planned to cover at the meeting. He announced, "Well, we've made a good start. But I have little doubt there will be more problems ahead. If we can work together, things should go smoothly. If we can not, then more changes will be made. Any further questions?" He hoped not, for he was exhausted, and had not swung a hammer all day.

Unfortunately ...

If he had thought himself tired before, an hour later he was more exhausted than if he had swung a hammer for a day and a night without ceasing - or so it seemed. The sheer amount of minutiae the Steward was expected to deal with was mind-boggling - and half of it seemed to relate to obscure customs and traditions that Derron had never heard of. At last he sent to final few away with promises that he would look into their complaints on the morrow, and found himself finally alone - expect for the fair young man who had spoken out against the Clerk of Works.

This young man was watching him with some caution but, as the door closed behind the last of the others, he cleared his throat and spoke. "Now that you have a new Clerk of Works - might you also be needing an assistant?"

Derron sighed loudly and said, "That I do. So, tell me your name and qualifications, lad." He was tempted to simply award the man the position, but that would be foolish. He would talk with him, then tomorrow ask others about his character. "Oh, and how did you know the Clerk kept the money in a box under his bed?"

"My name is Linnel," said the young man. "I came to Clearwater as an apprentice plasterer, in Lord Draupaud's service. I like it here - I have a sweetheart in the town, and I want enough money saved to marry her. As for the money box - I saw it myself. I called on the Clerk one morning when he was nowhere to be found and was needed to give orders. I knocked on the door and it must have been ajar, for it swung open. I was in time to see him quickly fastening a box and kicking it under his bed. That it was heavy and hard was apparent from his yell of pain." He grinned. "The rest I guessed when I heard what you said.

"As for the job - I have no special qualifications, but I'm hard-working and able - anyone will tell you that. I can read and write too, some at least, and I can do counting in my head. The rest I can learn - and I will."

Derron sat for a few moments, looking thoughtful. He finally said, "Tomorrow I'll ask around about your character. Habits and such. If nothing gives me pause, the job will be yours. Fair?"

Linnel smiled. "More than fair, sir. The worst you'll hear of me is that I don't go drinking with the men after working now I've found me a lass." He stood up. "Now I'll thank you for taking the time to hear me, and leave you to yourself."

And he left Derron alone with his thoughts ...

Derron sighed loudly, then gathered his things and headed back to his room over the smithy. His apprentices had tidied up, and were busy talking about their lesson in arms. He gruffly told them to get some rest, since tomorrow would be a busy day. As he got himself ready for a well-deserved sleep, he thought about Linnel. If he could teach the man, he might be able to take over as Steward within a year or so. He was asleep ten seconds after his head hit the pillow.

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs, Clearwater