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A Golden Path: First Steps 1.9 (ch. 9)
🕑 Added 2024-11-18 15:54:15 +0000 UTCNed soon found that he had underestimated the harshness of Skagos, as all his plans fell apart upon the discovery that he had beheaded the very last of the Crowl bloodline, something he could scarce believe even now. The North was by far the harshest of the Seven Kingdoms, but even those Northern Houses with few branches had cousins. Even as sparse as the Stark bloodline had become, as his father was an only child, he still had cousins that could take the Stark name if the need arose.
But that wasn't the case for House Crowl. Haljiti had been an only child, as had his father before him. His children were dead, killed by winter and hunger. There were those that carried traces of House Crowl blood, but they were at best third or fourth cousins. By the laws of inheritance, they didn't qualify as candidates to inherit. Haljiti didn't even have bastards that could take his name.
It hadn't been his intention, which made the letter of praise coming from his father feel utterly undeserved. He intended for a more slow decline for House Crowl. Enough that he could say that he obeyed his father's orders in spirit, but not enough that the action felt unjust. His father informed him that he had already commissioned a song -- The Hour of the Wolf. Inspired by Tywin Lannister’s own Rains of Castamere, Ned suspected.
He hadn't the heart to listen to it, but from what Robert said to him, it was a rather catchy tune.
The aftermath of the slaughter was predictable. With no one left to inherit, and given the nature of the dispute, the lands that had once belonged to House Crowl now belonged to House Atreides. Much to the chagrin of the Skagos lords. They had sought to expand their own lands, and the presence of an outsider was… less than welcomed.
To that end, the result was predictable as well. His father commanded him to remain in Skagos until the dispute had settled. Or, in the far more likely case, until House Atreides was secure enough in their position that even if the Skagosi Lords did take action against the new lord, that he could endure their scorn.
Naturally, the whole thing was a farce, as his father had given him another task and he frankly wasn't sure he was up to it.
Steal the trade secrets of House Atreides.
He truly wondered what exactly his father thought Lord Arryn had taught him during his fosterage. The message came with an assurance -- in the end, House Atreides was a vassal. Paul had been warned of the consequences of anything happening to Ned during his stay as overseer. As such, Ned had protection that other spies didn't when they were committing acts of skullduggery. Still, he did feel like his father had chosen the wrong man for the job as Ned had no idea where he could even start.
To make matters worse, Robert and Elbert had said their farewells. That was to be expected-- they never should have been on Skagos in the first place, so as much as he would have liked his friends to stay, he knew that wasn't possible. So, it was with a heavy heart that he prepared himself to say his farewells at the burgeoning docks.
“Do you think you'll come back to the Eyrie?” Robert questioned as they stood on the shore, watching as the ship was being loaded. It would take them to the Wall, and from there they would make a long trek back to Winterfell, simply because Robert seemed physically ill at the thought of riding on a ship for more than a few hours.
“I don't know,” Ned admitted. Both of them were already old enough to end their fosterage, and in fact, it was more unusual that they had been fostered for so long. Now, he would spend months in Skagos. A year, at most. By that time, he'd be seventeen. A fully grown man expected to have a wife and a child. “Likely not, I think.”
Robert didn't seem surprised, though a large sigh heaved out of him. “My father has wanted me back home in the Stormlands for the past year or two,” he admitted. “I was never sure why he kept letting me convince him to extend it by another year. He's more stubborn than me… but, if you're not there, then I don't suppose there's a point.”
“What are you going to do back home?” Ned questioned, and it began to settle on him that they would be saying farewell for a long time. For years, most of his life really, Robert had been a constant companion. Both of them might go without seeing each other for a month or two at a time, but that was hardly so long in comparison to what they faced now -- it could be years before they saw each other again. If they ever did. Ned couldn't imagine he would have many reasons to venture South, nor Robert to venture North.
“Piss if I know,” Robert admitted with a laugh. “By the time I get back, Father should be back from Essos. He'll have a better idea than me.” He grimaced at the thought before he glanced at Ned. “You?”
“It depends on Paul, I imagine. I could be stuck here for years if this goes poorly.” Ned sighed.
To that, Robert snorted. “I wouldn't plan on that. That vassal of yours is something else,” he observed, scratching at his beard. “Fights like the Stranger is tellin’ ‘em where to stick those knives of his, and his retinue isn't that far off. That battle… that battle was perfect, Ned.”
Robert pursed his lips in thought, his brow furrowing. “I've gone over it in my head a few dozen times now. I've got no head for numbers or letters, but you know I've always had a head for strategy. Ned, that battle was perfect. It's like that lout sent a letter ahead of time to tell Paul what he was going to do.” That had stood out to Ned as well, and it was the highest praise that Ned had heard Robert offer to anyone. “I don't think I could have done any better, Ned. Fifty men dead in minutes, with nothing but scrapes and bruises on our side.”
Then he looked around, as if he was concerned someone was going to overhear him. “This whole place feels like a fever dream. I didn't get what your Mermaid Lord was talking about, but I think I do now. This whole bloody thing should be a right fuckin’ mess, and instead it's been clean. Not without problems, sure, but nothing that anyone with some brains in their head wouldn't expect.”
“It's been an experience, that is true,” Ned silently agreed. “Paul knew exactly what he was getting into when he decided on this place.”
“Hmph. I'd say. Doesn't feel right leaving you behind in this place, but he seems to be on your side. Good thing too, because I wouldn't want to have him as an enemy.” Robert gave a theatrical shiver at the thought. “I feel safer thinking that he's going to be stuck up at the ass end of the world -- Sorry, Ned, but you know it's true.”
“Your concern is well received, but unneeded. I can't say I rightly understand what goes on in his head, but there is a reason why Paul decided to become a vassal instead of sailing off to Essos to become a merchant prince.” Ned reasoned. It felt strange to distrust someone when they hadn't given him reason to. Especially considering the order of his father -- if anyone was unworthy of trust, it was himself. “Though, I'll be sure to send him your thoughts. He might give you a fright at the next tourney you find yourself in.”
“Ha!” Robert laughed, “That'll be a fight for the bards -- me and my warhammer hitting air as he flips around me. That was a good trick too. Never thought to go over a defensive line before.” Then he shook his head, “Though, fat luck that happens. Odds are the next big tourney is going to be for Prince Rheagar’s wedding. If his father can find a bride for him that is. By this point, he's scoured all of Essos.”
Tourneys weren't a particular interest to him, but he was rather curious who Prince Rheagar’s bride, and the future queen of the Seven Kingdoms, would be. In particular considering that when it was announced that King Aerys was looking to the East for a bride, there was a lot of discontent. Less so in the North, but plenty in the Eyrie. He imagined it would be similar in most of the Kingdoms.
“Hm. More likely it'll be for your own wedding, then.” Ned reasoned, earning a snort from Robert.
“Aye, likely. Hopefully me lady wife won't mind little Mya,” Robert said, scratching at his cheek. “That'll narrow down the list of brides to be. Hopefully, my father will pick out a pretty one. You'll come to the wedding, won't you? I'll come to yours.” He offered like it was either of their decision. Or, in the likely case, he'd just steal away in the dead of night and travel to the North and expected Ned to do the same to the South.
“If I'm able. At the rate things are going, I'll never know what Father might want of me,” Ned admitted with a sigh. It seemed like a dour note to end things on as a call went out from the ship, the last call before departure.
“Ask him to choose your own bride,” Robert advised. “You're the second son, and you've been shoveling all the shit he’s thrown your way. I'd say you've earned that right, Ned. You deserve more than an ugly shrew of a bride,” Robert said, clapping him on the shoulder. There was a thought, but Ned knew he wasn't likely to follow up on it. The thought he could marry for love was a nice one, but he had no expectations that would be the case.
Like Brandon, he would marry for duty. As Lyanna likely would have to. Perhaps that would be enough to let Benjen have a chance of happiness.
“I'll be sure to tell him,” Ned said, mostly placating.
Robert laughed, “No, you won't.” He dismissed with a shake of his head, “But, with some luck the seed that I planted in your head will get you thinking about what you want out of life, Ned.” That was oddly poetic of him, Ned thought, before he found himself in a rib cracking, back breaking, lung popping embrace from his friend.
Despite it all, he clapped Robert on the back. “Farewell, my friend. We'll see each other again, one day, I'm sure.”
“Damn right we will, Ned,” Robert said, dropping Ned back to the ground. Despite their parting, Robert wore a smile as he took off to the ship that had been just shy of leaving him behind.
Ned watched it go, sailing off to the Wall, and only when it vanished in the morning's mists did he let out a long sigh. It would be lonely without his friends, but there was plenty of work to be done and Ned wasn't fond of idle hands. So, he turned his back to the shore and headed back up the cliffside.
It was back at the home of House Atreides that he found a few familiar faces. In the weeks since their arrival, a labor camp had been established at the main entrance to the volcano. It was all nearly organized with the extra hands collected at the scattered villages coming to help build what would be the seat of House Atreides. He approached the foreman of the construction crew, making the man named Stilgar look up from hides that were covered in charcoal markings. Designs, Ned noted.
“Ah, the lord! Your friends have departed then, yes?” Stilgar questioned, casting him an idle glance. The man wasn't one for formality. Or proper respects. But, Ned figured that was simply his nature. Only fools found insults where none was intended.
“Aye, they have,” Ned confirmed. “I'm not one to be idle, should you have use for me.” Ned offered, making Stilgar smile.
“Good! Good! We thought you would sit on your arse all day like the other lords, but this is a nice surprise,” Stilgar said, turning away just as Ned was starting to take some offense. “We are building a new seiche. Much like old one, but needs to be… pretty. Lordly. You can help with this?”
“I have no eye for interior design, but I suppose I've lived in more castles than most,” Ned reasoned.
And, with that, he went to work.
…
He didn't really have much of a plan if he was being completely honest. He almost wished to ask some common thief how they would go about this business, but he wasn't so desperate to lower himself to that point. The best he managed to come up with was keeping his eyes and ears open as he found himself joining the laborers, often alongside Paul Atreides.
The project was completely unlike anything that Ned had ever participated in. He had never been officially taken as a squire but he knew the duties well. He had even participated in rebuilding a stable in the Eyrie as the heavy rains had rotted the wood. This… this was something very different. Unique.
The main entrance was carved away, the uneven and rough walls were smoothed and widened. The vast majority of the walls were made of dragonglass, and the chunks and pieces were then smashed up, ground into a fine powder, then added to a gray slurry that solidified itself into a blackish gray stone. The thickness of the liquid stone depended on the need -- at what would be the front gate, they produced massive slabs to reinforce where the gate would be.
Within the hallway itself, it lined the floors to create an even walkway. The material itself was fascinating, as it acted as a purposefully shaped stone depending on the need. The ingredients of it were puzzling, but as he aided in making it, he learned how it was made even if he didn't fully understand why it worked.
It was as they delved deeper into the mountain that he understood Paul’s meaning when he claimed magma tubes flowed throughout it and the area around it. The hall led to a central chamber, and the tubes went in just about every direction he could think of -- down, up, to the sides, forward and backwards. They curved and bent, sometimes leading to other, smaller caverns, and other times they tampered off to a deadend. It almost felt like it was a maze, in a way.
But, what became most fascinating of all was how they harnessed the mountain. Much like Winterfell, once they reached the natural springs, they began to pipe the hot water throughout the mountain -- not only ensuring that it would remain warm in the depths of winter, but granting access to easy hot water with only a twist of a knob in the bathing rooms. Paul had decided to use the readily available caverns for rooms, but that didn't stop him from carving out entirely new areas from the caverns that went nowhere.
Everything was tethered together with a maze of stairways that could carry you from the top of the mountain to the bottom. And, while the main entrance was the easiest way into the mountain, it was hardly the only one. There were areas that had collapsed partially once the magma had stopped flowing, the pressure it brought vanishing. In those areas, Ned found that Paul was cultivating with purpose.
Some, he turned into a balcony to gaze out at the lands below. Others, where the land around the entrance was more substantial, Paul proved his foresight and started construction of glass gardens over the area. Others he left bare, but from what he understood, a godswood would be planted. Ned suspected that Paul didn't have any faith in the Old Gods, but he approved of the gesture.
The labor was endless, but Ned found that he didn't really mind as the days turned into weeks. It would be at least a few years before all of Paul's initial goals for the mountain would be reached, and even that was incredibly fast, only possible because of his laborers. It would be a lifetime before the mountain was able to rival Casterly Rock, but Ned knew it in his bones, one day, they would be compared.
Though, it was hardly the only project that was being worked on. A village was swiftly placed around the beach that they had landed on, complete with a dockyard and a lighthouse made out of timber. It had seemed a bit needless at first, especially when Paul had all but uprooted several established settlements to force them all to build a large fishing village, but the reasoning became apparent after his first month in Skagos.
A ship arrived that carried news -- Robert and Elbert had both returned to Winterfell and Whiteharbor without difficulty. It was a relief to hear and the start of an exchange of letters to the mainland. He gave news of his progress in Skagos while his father kept him informed of the events that felt like they were happening an entire world away. News of how things were developing in Whiteharbor -- how word had finally begun to spread across the South and Essos that it was the North that had produced such fine goods.
How there seemed to be some trouble on the horizon, but a letter from his father and a particularly extravagant gift by House Atreides had smoothed things over. Or, at least, so said his father. The names and numbers that his father spoke of didn't mean much to Ned, but he did know that now that word had spread, there would be a sharp uptick of interest in the North.
It was shameful to admit, but he found the letters of his siblings of greater interest. Even if it was largely Brandon grousing about his impending marriage. Or Lyanna complaining about Brandon grousing about his impending marriage. Or Benjen not really knowing what he should put into the letters, so he put a little bit of everything loosely strung together with his rambling thoughts.
He replied, of course. Detailing the stiff and terse meetings he had with the other Skagosi Lords to his father. Offering his condolences to both Lyanna and Brandon. Sharing whatever he thought would interest Benjen.
After the first month of his stay, things began to settle. But only for a short time. The construction never ceased, but the nature of it started to change with the arrival of ships. At the start, it was only the ship that Robert and Elbert had used to return home that came and went. It sailed between the port and Whiteharbor, delivering trade goods to be sold there, which would then be resold. Ned had assumed that the port on Skagos was simply too treacherous and distant to sail to for other merchants, but he was proven wrong as the weeks passed.
They were few, but tradeships from Essos and from Kingdoms such as the Eyrie, Riverlands, Stormlands, and even one from Dorne began to arrive. Bypassing Whiteharbor for cheaper prices on an increasingly large swath of trade goods to choose from.
As the demand increased, Paul met it proactively, and Ned started to see the larger web of connections. The old Crowl castle was converted into a port town, only it traded with the wildlings beyond the Wall. Resources that couldn't be found on Skagos in any significant amount, such as timber, was imported from beyond the Wall, sent to the Crowl castle, then to the castle of House Atreides. At the start, the completed products that the merchants were here to purchase were imported from wherever Paul had lived beyond the Wall, but as demand increased, that arrangement was no longer practical.
Which led to Paul bringing over the production process to his new home as the facilities were finally readied for them.
He would like to say that was a great breakthrough in his task, but the truth of the matter was that he barely understood anything even in the few times he got to see the creation. While he marveled watching the glassworkers shape a bright orange glob of molten glass, it was a far cry from understanding why each step was taken in the process. To say nothing of the material used in the creation.
So, he was content to learn slowly. As he did, a third month passed, then a fourth, and then a fifth. Progress on his mission was infrequent, but not so slow that he felt frustrated. He had prepared himself for a year, after all, and it hadn't even been half of that. Once more things settled into a routine and, once more, that routine was disrupted.
“There's been a development,” Paul informed him as Ned rested on a crate. He looked up to see Paul approaching, holding a letter aloft. Instantly, Ned's gaze went to the royal seal impressed on the red was -- a three headed dragon. “A wife has been found for Prince Rhaegar in Volantis. They'll be married in three month’s time.”
Ned accepted the letter, reading the looping letters. The purpose of the letter was made plain in the first sentence. “You have been invited to the royal wedding?” He questioned before he swallowed a wince, “Forgive my discourtesy, but I find the news surprising, Lord Atreides. It is a high honor you have been given.” Wedding invitations were a complicated affair.
Some people had to be invited, as excluding them would be an insult of the highest order. For the royal family, that list included the Lords of Kingdoms and the Lord Paramounts. Other Houses could expect an invitation if they were old and powerful enough, but there was a large difference in sending an invitation to House Royce and a Lord of the Fingers. The North, in particular, rarely received invitations at all and when they did, it was even rarer that they accepted.
A new House on the other side of the Seven Kingdoms getting an invitation to a royal wedding? That was quite unusual.
“No offense was given, Lord Eddard. In fact, I myself am quite surprised at the invitation,” he replied, his voice decidedly even. That would be a first, Ned thought to himself. Every step of the way, from their arrival until now, it always felt as if Paul knew exactly what he needed to do.
In a way, it was part of the reason why he felt no closer to the man despite sharing meals with him for nearly half a year. When you spoke with him, it was as if Paul already knew what you were going to say, and was merely waiting for you to say it so he could reply. It was an… uncomfortable feeling.
At this point, Ned found himself surprised that Paul could be surprised.
“You intend to accept, then?” Ned questioned, wondering what this meant for him.
“I don't believe I am in a position to do otherwise, if I may be honest,” Paul admitted, a small hum of irritation in his tone. “I have already written to your father informing him of the development. Ultimately, I will heed whatever advice that he shall give, but I will prepare for the journey. The wedding shall be held in King's Landing, the occasion marked with a grand tourney.”
Likely half the Seven Kingdoms would be in King's Landing then. Grand Tourneys were rare affairs. The kind that attracted the noblest of knights to the lowest of hedge knights.
“However, the whole affair does raise a question of what shall be done with you, Lord Eddard. I understand that your father has given you your own tasks-”
If he was a better liar, Ned reasoned that the words wouldn't have gotten the reaction that they did out of him. Every muscle went taunt, as if he were about to spring into action. Paul, almost insultingly, seemed amused by his reaction at the unspoken accusation. “Peace, Lord Eddard.”
He knew. How long? How long had he known-
“What I meant, however, was the task of reigning in the other Skagosi Lords,” Paul continued, a hint of a smile curling at the edges of his lips.
“Ah…” Ned uttered, a scarlet flush creeping up his neck as he realized that even if he hadn't known, Ned would have just given himself away. “I-I see. My apologies.”
“There is no need. Though, if you don't mind me saying, you don't make for a very good spy.” Paul noted and Ned's shoulders sagged.
“I shall thank you for the compliment,” Ned replied, equal parts mortified and relieved. It felt like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. “Please, do not think ill of my father for this-” he started, going to make some excuse. None could honestly excuse this level of duplicity, but he owed it to his family to at least try.
“Your father's actions befit that of a Lord. He'd have to be a fool to not try to learn my trade secrets, and your father is no fool,” Paul replied, his tone seemingly genuine. “He is not the first, nor shall he be the last.”
That was almost too good to be true, Ned thought, even as he was relieved. And that was what made it so hard to deal with Paul. Ned genuinely had no idea what was going on in his head. “You… are too kind, Lord Atreides.”
“I am not,” Paul refuted easily, as if it were a fact. “I merely understand your father. He reminds me a bit of my own, Leto Atreides. I can empathize with his position.” The words felt like an admission to Ned's ears, though he wasn't sure what exactly he was admitting to. Or what it meant. “What your father wants is security. He feels like I have leverage over him, and he fears how I could use it against him.”
That was exactly right. Almost word for word, Ned realized. “I… yes. You are largely correct,” Ned confessed. It felt like he should be making excuses. Or denying every word. But, at the same time, to do so felt shameful and undeserved. Not to mention pointless.
Paul nodded, simply confirming what he already knew. “I cannot simply give you my House's trade secrets, I hope you understand. Not without cost.” That, to Ned's ears, sounded reasonable. It was not House Atreides that was in the wrong in this situation. “However, I can give your father peace of mind, if it is within my abilities.”
Ned paused, glancing down at the letter to buy him a moment of thought and took a step back to look at the situation as a whole. It was an ugly picture for House Stark, he could admit. His House showed a shameful side of itself and, worse, he had been the face of it.
Yet, Paul had acted graciously. Almost to the point of being too gracious, but Ned found it increasingly difficult to be suspicious when he himself was the one deserving of suspicion. If Paul had known from the very beginning…
A small sigh escaped Ned, feeling as if he had been far too harsh on the young lord. “You really are too kind, Lord Atreides.” He repeated, meaning it this time. The whole interaction had revealed a glimmer of Paul’s character to Ned.
“No, I’m really not,” Paul repeated in the same tone. “Shall you attend the royal wedding with me, then?”
Ned already knew his answer. “If you would welcome my company, it would be my honor.”
Paul was a strange man, Ned concluded, but he was convinced he was a good one.
Comments
Pearl of the Orient
Concrete impregnated with magical obsidian. Paul has seen the Great Other and his Walkers then. Rickard is still a dumbass. Paul doesn't need to kill Ned to hurt House Stark.
