Wallace had been upset ever since his lord informed him about the command of the King to arrange a trade agreement with one, or even multiple, Dornish houses to foster the peace that had been agreed upon by the King’s proposal for marriage of a Dornish princess.
Naturally, he would not want a mere agreement for the sake of the agreement alone. What kind of steward would he be if he would not try to actually benefit from such a treaty? A poor one indeed, and he always strived to be better than poor, much better if he could help it.
So he had leaved through all the reports of incomes, tables, levers and all handnotes to determine just what Ashfield could offer and would need in return.
Alas, though he was rather meticulous in his daily dealings with running the household his documentation was somewhat lacking. Not that the required Maester Jon’s help in any way, but just because he was well capable to read and write didn’t mean that he loved to do just that. In fact, he usually preferred to deal with things ‘hands on’ rather than writing it all down. None of the household could read so he had to deal with them personally anyway.
After having arranged the welcome of the heir’s new wife, he had spent the whole night going through the numbers and thus he was rather tired.
The morning had rushed through its hours and he had barely dealt with the daily arrangements when he was informed that the Hall would have even more visitors. The Hall was not that big and he wringed his hands as he tried to accommodate all the newcomers.
Rather than join his lord in the delicate negotiations with the Dornishman, he had been busy talking with the chief cook about the evening’s festivities. Not keeping good documentation about stocks he had to inspect the storage rooms himself to check what was required, followed by ordering and arranging all that was still required.
Naturally he became aware of the party that left the Hall early to speak to the Dornishmen who had been so bold as to come with a rather large entourage – a militant one, one might notice – and just set up camp on Ashfield lands. But he just had not found the time to contribute. Needless to say he did feel vexed that his lord had not called upon him in such a delicate situation.
Four boys had run off to deliver his requests and then it was time to listen to the captains. Funny enough, again four, each for the houses’ extensive military force. Unfortunately, none of those could read or write either and so he had to listen to their daily problems and challenges, too. Usually these were petty things in his opinion, often things he wondered why he had to settle these, but alas, Ashfield did lack in true knights. Whatever ‘true’ meant in that case. Wallace often had wished for a knight that could read, but alas, in times of war, no man-at-arms could be seriously expected to indulge in a classical education.
Perhaps with peace coming around he thought wistfully as the captain droned on about yet another petty grievance about food supply for the men. As it were the soldiers already did get much better fare than typical, Lord Ashfield had always made clear that his soldiers needed strength and you only really got that with good food… or so the chief cook would have him believe.
The last captain just left when he checked in on the kitchen again.
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As he is in the kitchen checking on the food that need to be ready in the next two days a young girl comes crashing in the kitchen door, "Ser Mathys's is taking on the Dornish Viper single handed." "Hurry come see !@!"
With a frown he sees the younger lads and lasses heeding the call, but he couldn’t handle those, too. He gives a severe shake of denial.
”I will forgive the young ones this time, but you all have enough and more useful things to do rather than witness yet another… episode of our lord’s son.”, he commands sternly.
But then it registers on him that the lass had spoken of a Dornishman.
”Surely, he did not…”, he mutters, then turns around in alarm and makes quickly for the yard.
He arrives just as Mathys strides into the hall.
”My lord, what happened to your head ?”, he asks in concern, but the second son of Lord Ashfield just waved his hand and continued on, not saying much.
Obviously, however, that was not the end of the story as he hears the sound of fighting.
Quickly he rushes outside, all attempts at decency thrown into the wind.
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Vernon's honor is now challenged and he dismounts.
, Wallace shouts, incredulous that no one had intervened.
But Ashfield’s soldiers were well trained and they did listen to the clearly issued command.
”Lord Garin, you will not kill another man in the Hall of my Lord Ashfield. This is inacceptible. And you, Lord Vernon, will not settle this grave matter inside Ashfield’s walls.”.
Of course, no lord would listen to a command issued by mere Wallace and so he raises his left arm, a clear signal for the archers to draw their bows again, aiming at both Lord Garin and Lord Vernon.
”Sheethe your blades, my lords, or the war will continue right here with only Dornish blood spilled in this very yard.
My lord will not suffer any more deaths inside his hall, deaths dealt by anyone not of his household.”
There, the threat was uttered and these Lords would do better to heed him.
