Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods

POV: Barbrey Dustin

Barrow Hall.

Year 289, twenty-eighth day of the twelfth moon.

Three days before the start of the ceremony...

The big show was about to begin.

Barbrey and her betrothed, Jorah, were at the front gates of the manor to welcome and offer hospitality to every wedding guest. It was an exhausting role, the list seemed endless, but the couple fulfilled their duties admirably...

All the minor and significant Houses of the North had now arrived and settled in, except House Stark, which would come along with the delegation from Carcosa.

Ser Duncan and the infamous master, The Watcher, were travelling along with them.

The real news from Winterfell in recent weeks widened the smile on the Soon-to-be-No-More-Widow of Barrowton's face...

The entire delegation from Dorne arrived at dawn that same day.

House Allyrion, Blackmont, Uller, Garlalen, Jordayne, Ladybright, Manwoody, Qorgyle, Fowler, Dayne of Starfall, Vaith, Wells, Wyl, Yrowood, and of course, Nymeros Martell had sent all the highest-ranking figures of their lineage with their respective champions intent on registering for the tournament.

Though afflicted with gout, Prince Doran himself showed up escorted in a carriage along with the heir of Sunspears, Princess Arianne. The Red Viper of Dorne, Prince Oberyn, was the representative champion of House Martell. More than two hundred esteemed guests of noble births from Dorne alone and an escort of three hundred others, including armigers and servants, to be given asylum.

Only noble lords and ladies of high lineage could be granted a room within Barrowhall; the remaining lesser lords, knights and squires had been given an area outside the walls to set up pavilions.

It had been quite a dilemma to choose where to place the 'Dornian Alleged Traitors' hated by all the remaining Six Kingdoms...

The most suitable choice was between the Northern Houses and the noble guests of Essos.

On the highest turret of the Castle, one could already see tents and banners set up on par with an army. Already for a couple of days, that number had reached five thousand, and many more guests were yet to arrive...

A few hours later, the significant representatives of The Reach arrived.

Tarly, Florent, Fossoway of Cider Hall, Fossoway of New Barrel, Ambrose, Ashford, Beesbury, Merryweather, Footly, Oakheart, Peake, Rowan, Varner, Vyrvel, Shermer, Mullendore, Cuy, Crane, Bulwer, Caswell, Redwine, Tyrell, and of course the most eagerly awaited of them all...House Hightower.

"Fear not, my lord Tyrell, we have prepared your accommodations on the opposite side of the Dorne delegation--hospitality in the North is as sacred and ancient as the very gods we worship.

You have my word that you and your family, nor any of your noble bannermen under our table, will be inconvenienced in any way." So he reassured the bold and wrathful Mace Tyrell for the second time.

"My Lady, I recommend extreme caution with those barbaric traitors of the sands who have crippled my poor Wyllas. A vile Dornian can never be trusted who-"

"Now knock it off, sucker! We have listened to this chant three times!

Turn around and look at the endless tail you have spawned. Up! Now step aside and let me do the talking!" Slammed the Queen of Thorns, Olenna Tyrell, literally shoving the Lord Protector of the South and his wife Alerie Hightower to the side.

"Lord Jorah, Lady Barbrey, House Tyrell is honoured to have received your invitation. We wish eternal felicitations and prosperity for your union." The last point marked the end of House Tyrell's turn as he waited only for the House host to take his leave.

It was Lord Jorah who responded this time.

"Thank you, Lady Olenna, the honour is ours for responding to our invitation. Welcome to Barrow Hall, my Lords and Ladies. Please, savoury bread and mead await you after the end of the hall. Our steward will attend to all your needs." The seven members of House Tyrell bowed and continued on.

The understanding of respectful glances between Olenna and Barbrey did not seem to be noticed by anyone.

It was the turn of the noble bannermen most closely associated with the Tyrells.

The individual, dubbed 'The Old Man of Oldtown', stepped forward with all his grace and splendour. Yet, that alias seemed undeserved at Barbrey's first glance.

The man indeed showed signs of age, but his spirit and bearing did not seem to belong to that of a 50-year-old.

"Lord Leyton, what a long-awaited honour-we finally have a chance to interact face to face with each other, my lord. Mh, Mh, Mh!" Barbrey offered her hand, which was promptly accepted, and bowed, bestowing a friendly welcome.

"Lady Barbrey, the honour is mine alone... You may well say so, my lady. Your beauty and elegance excellently reflect your fine and impeccable writing." Replied with a warm smile and a polite tone The Defender of Oldtown.

"Oh, oh! Too kind, my lord. So you cause me embarrassment...

The trade relations between Barrowton and Oldtown are so prosperous and enduring that we could not possibly afford to delegate the task to be cold and hasty Chief Stewards." All Honeyland kitchens and taverns could not help but use Barrowton salt.

The Northern Lady and the Southern Lord often pursued trade negotiations through direct correspondence. House Hightower had a monopoly on the resale of Northern salt throughout The Reach, which consumed nearly one-tenth of the spice produced by the Salt Lance refineries. A profit on both sides of at least 5,000 gold dragons a month...

"Absolutely agree, my lady... Lord Jorah, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Eternal congratulations on your union, my lord." Leyton bowed to the betrothed clad in the bear symbols of House Mormont.

"Thank you, it is my immense pleasure as well. Welcome to Barrow Hall, Lord Leyton." Jorah returned the greeting with all due honours.

"The Citadel and my fleet admiral have peppered me with pleas, almost to the point of torment, in seizing this festive opportunity to intercede as an intermediary between Oldtown and Bear Island. We hear rumours that House Mormont glass and all instrumentation products related to it are of the finest and most sophisticated quality possible...

I hope there exists, in the not too distant future, the possibility of establishing a friendly relationship between House Hightower and House Mormont with the same collaborative relationship that has long existed with your lovely bride." Lord Leyton had no qualms about flinging a carpet of compliments and veiled messages under the radar. Of course, after the wedding, Jorah would have decision-making power over all Dustin Salt and Mormont Glass businesses...

The portentous new spotting scopes and binoculars, released into the market two moons ago, were stirring up a storm in the world of maritime commerce and warfare.

Every galley captain, merchantman, corvette, longship, barge, fishing boat, or piece of wood capable of floating on water coveted one. And for a good reason.

If the lookout doubled its ability to scan the horizon, the ship would have an undue advantage in evading obstacles and threats.

Rumour had it that, The Master of the Fleets, Prince Stannis Baratheon, had marched royal emissaries day and night to establish negotiations with House Mormont as soon as possible, even having beasts and slacker men whipped to the point of exhaustion who dared to rest more than three hours a day en route. It did not seem so unfounded as a rumour since the eight-hundred-mile distance between King's Landing and Barrowton was travelled in less than seven days.

Who knows how the best archers and readers of the Seven Kingdoms would have reacted in the future when the new glass masters released the revolutionary prescription lenses...

All the magisters of the free city of Myr had immediately withdrawn their confirmation of participation in the wedding. Instead, they sent countless death threats and open warfare with Bear Island, accusing them of stealing the secrets of the fine art of Glassmaking (of which Myr had held a monopoly from Oldtown to Qarth for over four centuries).

However, Myr's eternal rivals, the free cities of Tyrosh and Lys, had instead doubled their noble emissaries at such an event, bringing with them caravans overflowing with gifts...

"For certain, the possibility exists, my lord... However, I should politely ask you to postpone this pleasant future conversation, at least after the wedding. O..." Jorah cast a playful glance at Barbrey. "Well, I'm afraid I could face the pains of my beautiful and enchanting bride."

"Ahaha. Absolutely, my lord. Certainly..." Leyton jovially welcomed the joke.

"But who are these sparkling youths and graceful maidens?" Asked the Lady of Barrowton, trying to break the awkward silence.

"Lord Jorah, Lady Barbrey, allow me to introduce my heir, Ser Baelor Hightower, and his young wife, Lady Rhonda." The two couples exchanged respectful greetings. Barbrey forcefully restrained a small impulse to giggle. About sixteen years ago, Prince Oberyn nicknamed the poor boy: "Baelor Breakwind" for unintentionally farting in front of him and his sister Elia.

The heir to the most powerful man in Westeros was perpetually crucified by that infamy. Nevertheless, Baelor was said to be one of the best Knights of The Reach. The boy worked hard to break the curse that marred his good name.

It was not so much the alias 'Breakwind' that made Barbrey laugh, but more the idea of how a simple fart could bring the son of the most powerful man on the continent to his knees!

'Hold back, Barbrey!!! Damn you! The fate of the North is on the line!!!' the Widow of Barrowton admonished herself fiercely inwardly while maintaining her impeccable bearing.

"Next, we have my second son, Ser Garth Hightower. The champion of Oldtown who looks forward to honouring these nuptials by bestowing pageantry and lustre in the tournament." Garth, also known as 'Greysteel,' the knight who served three years in the Second Sons only to gain experience in the art of actual warfare...

"My daughter Leyla and her husband, Ser Jon Cupps, the current Commander of my Personal Guard." And here is the most dangerous knight of the group. The one for whom Barbrey never wanted to see a sword drawn against her future husband.

The knight had a good eye; he was a guard worthy of his reputation. Cupps kept casting glances over the shadowy colonnades of the reception hall. He had sensed the presence of her hidden guards.

According to Bloody Snow, Ser Jon Cupps had to be at least twice as dangerous as the former Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Gerold Hightower... Nevertheless, the White Sword crushed the life of her William with a final surprise slash at the Battle of the Tower of Joy.

"My youngest son, recently elevated knight, Ser Humfrey..." Barbrey's spies had recently informed her that, most likely, Leyton had every intention of arranging a marriage between his youngest son and a noble lady from the North. Dacey Mormont was Lord Hightower's most coveted target, according to the partially reliable sources...

"And finally... My youngest daughter, Lynesse." Leyton saved the best for last. The girl, who showed at least two years younger than she should be (17), looked like the embodiment of the Maiden...

The beautiful Lynesse had lustrous golden hair with platinum veins, cream-coloured skin, graceful and soft hands, cupped breasts and perfectly proportioned curves, a face that roared innocence and virtue, with two dazzling sapphires for eyes and a pair of plump red lips that would have made even Barbrey want to bite.

The Maiden seemed to have come down to earth only to belittle any other woman on the continent!

The silver and the pearl-white dress was made of the finest velvet and wool, structured so that a poor noble Southern girl could 'elegantly' display all her soft graces without shivering in the inclement Northern climate. Barbrey recognized the workmanship of House Flint of Widow's Watch--the same house from which the bride-to-be had commissioned her expensive wedding dress.

"Charmed, young Lady Lynesse ... Coff ... 'My Beloved'?" Barbrey coughed out a warning to the stodgy fool of her betrothed to rouse him from his more than inappropriate shock.

"Huh? Yes! Forgive me, my Lady... Welcome to Barrowton... I meant to say 'Barrow Hall,' Lady Lynesse! Welcome..." The Widow of Barrowton was ready to renew her nickname for the second time.

Jorah* humbly lowered his head in most heartfelt apology to his beloved.

Today's evening would end in another hysterical fight-but. Now was not the time to think about it.

"Thank you, Lord Jorah. Thank you, my Lady..." The little bitch with the honeyed voice had issued her a clearly concealed provocation by paying homage first and foremost to her man and not disdaining to even call her by her first name!

'Fuck the plans! I swear by the Old Gods. I will start World War IV, today!' No...she had to calm down. Barbrey inhaled as much air as she could through her nostrils, calming her pulse.

The trained mind warned her that that provocation had all the air of being a little stab from Lord Leyton to test her temper.

"Lady Barbrey-I could not fail to notice the absence of the banners of House Tallhart in the Northern pavilions. Might I ask if Ser Helman's heir, Duncan Tallhart, the one they call 'the Hero of the North,' will be coming to Barrowton to take part in the celebrations of this happy event?" candied-toned little bitch with eyes brimming with hope asked softly.

"Ah, yes, my dear, a common misunderstanding. House Tallhart already joined the celebrations two days ago. You probably still do not know that the protectors of Torrhen's Square have recently changed the old banner. In any case, the one you seek has not yet arrived in Barrowton...

The infamous 'Bloody Snow' is currently en route along with Lord Eddard Stark and the entire Winterfell retinue. They should arrive within two days, barring unforeseen circumstances, young lady."

'Pff!!! Ahahah! Seriously, Leyton? Is that what you're aiming for? Humfrey & Dacey, and Lynesse & Duncan?'

Barbrey's day lifted. Perhaps, and she emphasized 'perhaps,' there was the remote possibility that war might break out through no fault of her own.

Evidently, Oldtown had not yet gathered enough information about the belligerent and jawbreaking first-born of the fierce 'She-Bear,' Dacey Mormont...

Well, after all, the heroic former maester of Bear Island, Louis, had been mercilessly slaughtered under a banner of peace by Denys Drumm before he could reveal in detail the true nature of the spark that had broken out between the young Northern duo.

Barbrey would have happily bet 10,000 gold dragons on Little Angry Bear tearing locks of lustrous hair from the innocent Maiden of Oldtown. Still, she would have more than willingly lost them witnessing the scene of Dacey biting off the perfect Lynesse's small, candied pink cheeks.

The 'gallant Green Knight,' Ser Jorah Mormont, and the cousin of the 'Indomitable Vengeful Beast,' seemed intent on shouting a warning for the preservation of the poor defenceless Maiden. Still, a simple glance from Barbrey with the printed message: [If-You-Do, Tonight I'll-Cut-Your-Throat-In-The-Sleep!] muffled 'the Bear Hero.

"Ah... I see. Thank you, my lady." Lynesse retreated back, leaving the place of honour to her father.

"We heard House Stark hosted a 'peculiar' delegation from the Far East... Are the rumours true, my lady?" Lord Leyton asked without qualms. The player wanted to test the ground to see 'how much' Barbrey was meddling in the Great Game.

"Oh, yes, my lord, it is so. My Lord Protector, Eddard Stark, has kindly responded to my request for help regarding these celebrated mysterious guests from a far east city called 'Carcosa'... Mh mh mh.

To tell the truth, I didn't even know there were any cities beyond the very mysterious Asshai by the Shadows.

It was Lord Duncan's master-at-arms, a kindly adventurer named 'Zick' who first told me about them." Leyton remained impassive, but his Commander, Ser Jon Cupps, involuntarily stiffened his shoulders at the thundering name he had just uttered...

Very few in the Known World had the privilege of addressing The Watcher by his real name. Leyton and Jon were among the seven individuals in Oldtown who benefited from that privilege.

"A true gentleman and a great explorer, that 'Zick.' He graciously allowed me to get in touch with many of his acquaintances throughout Essos, helping me forge excellent trade relations with Archons, Magisters and Lords of distant cities.

Alas... the Lord of Carcosa seemed unwilling to accept my invitation because of my low noble rank. Still, he was willing to join the celebrations, taking on the burden of this long and demanding journey, if and only if it was the Noble and Ancient House Stark who would grant him the honour of hospitality...

The cultures and traditions of the Far East still remain a mystery to me. Mh, Mh, Mh!" Barbrey explained in a subtly joking tone.

"Ahah, I see... I look forward to meeting these 'mysterious' fascinating characters in person. Maybe Oldtown will also get a chance to form a close partnership with this infamous 'Carcosa.'

Well, the time has come for us to take off. We have kept you even too long. I perceive numerous grudging glances from poor Lord Redwine and from the remaining noble lords of The Reach waiting behind me.

Lady Barbrey, Lord Jorah, it was an absolute pleasure for us to receive your welcome." The Hightower family bowed.

"The pleasure of bestowing hospitality upon you noblemen and noblewomen is ours alone, my lords and ladies... So please enjoy the celebrations and entertainment Barrow Hall has in store for you."

End Chapter.

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*{Note Author: For those who have not read the books, Lynesse Hightower was Jorah's young second wife in the original book's canon. The woman who had driven him mad enough to bankrupt House Mormont to pay for any extravagance for the demanding Maiden bored with the monotonous life of Bear Island.}