Young Writers Society

“Jealousy is the sin; wrath is the crime”

- The Great Prophet

 Daegar

______________________________________________________________________________

It was not as cold as he imagined it would be. The hills, while covered in snow, were easy to navigate. After all, the Winter Road cut through them. Reports of heavy snows and biting storms led him to believe that the journey would be a treacherous one, but Daegar was lucky.

Aside from that, the snow that did cover the Winter Road had since been made solid, ensuring that the band did not have to trudge through several feet of cold powder.

They were making good time

Lord Daegar Fortman, Protector of the East, Master of Snowcliffe, and Prince of Boraelgrasp sat upon his black mare lost in deep thought. He was tired, and had every right to be. He and his band, thirty members of his household that he had selected to accompany him to Whitehold, had been travelling nonstop for three days straight. The clear road allowed them to travel faster than they otherwise would have if the snow were heavy. Additionally, Daegar made sure that his band travelled for fourteen hours a day as to take advantage of the break in the weather. He was starting to feel the effects.

Yet his plan proved to be efficient enough. They were five days ahead of schedule. Not a single person expected the weather to be as it was.

Daegar was excited. He had not seen his brother in five years. He occasionally exchanged owls with him from time to time, but had not heard from him in a year. He assumed that perhaps Dalish spies or poachers shot any he would have sent down. Fortunately, Stewart’s annual invitation to Whitehold for the Yuletide celebration reached Snowcliffe a month earlier. He was hesitant to accept as first, as his duties were many, being the warden of the eastern border, but he finally decided that he would go and visit his brother. He didn’t bother sending an owl. He thought it would be good to surprise him.

The letter had also stated that Cousin Ao̊gar and his daughters would be coming from the Fjord as well. He hadn’t seen him since they were babes.

He couldn’t hide the fact that he was, indeed, excited.

Daegar’s pensiveness was interrupted by the trotting of a horse that pulled alongside him. “My Lord. I apologize, but I bring-“

“Captain, what did I tell you about disturbing me?”

“I…I apologize, Syr. It’s just…”

“Out with it, Captain,” Daegar said with a sigh.

The captain cleared his throat. “An owl just arrived, my lord. House Granning is amassing troops in the Capitol Plain.”

“Arl Granning? He’s been after my position as Protector of the East for years. He wouldn’t dare betray the crown.”

“Syr, he’s brought extra swords in from the North.”

“Good, at least a consolation to civil war would be the challenge of fighting some experienced, northern sellswords. Don’t worry, Captain Kailen. All’s well.”

Kailen stuttered. “There…there’s more, Syr.”

“It’s, ‘my lord’ or ‘your grace’, Kailen. I’m a prince. You’d do best to remember that.”

“I apologize, your grace. My fault.” He paused and cleared his throat again. “Your brother, King Stewart, has invited Arl Granning and his son Amman to Whitehold for the festivities.”

“A lovely idea for a trap, don’t you think so, Captain? We can massacre him and his entire household.”

The captain pulled on his collar. “Err, I believe it is all in good faith, your grace.”

“Of course it is. I was merely jesting. An old fashioned diplomat my brother is. He appeases too often due to his desire to maintain peace. I’ve always criticized him for his lack of ruthlessness.” He recalled when they fought together in the Noorking Wars five years ago, when the Nordic tribes rallied under one banner to attack the Alliance. If it weren’t for the Magi, they would have never defeated the Vi-King and the armies of the North. Stewart took too many prisoners as a result of his pointless desire for mercy. Daegar accomplished his goals at any cost. My brother can be a damned fool sometimes.

Daegar could notice Kailen shivering, despite his many layers of warm clothing. “Cold, are we?”

Kailen nodded. “And my lord isn’t?”

“I like the snow, and the winds. And the colds perturb me not.”

“Quoting Leego, My Lord?”

“I see you know your history, Kailen.” Daegar, forgetting his previous annoyance, gave the man a pat on the back.

They continued the ride, the captain remaining in the van with his liege lord. Along the way they passed several hamlets and farms. Very few of the houses had smoke coming from the chimneys, many of the farms being seasonal. The farmers and their families would be residing in one of the larger towns or possibly further south.

As they passed through one of the larger hamlets, Kailen asked: “Why do we not stay here for the night, your grace?” He caught the eye of a wench standing outside of what was most likely one of the village’s small taverns. “Night is nearly upon us. This place looks hospitable enough.” The wench blew him a kiss.

Daegar shook his head. “Too small. Too many eyes. Dalish spies are known to haunt towns such as this. We’d do best to stay in one of the small holdfasts that line this road. The lord or knight would be required to surrender it to us for a night, naturally.”

Kailen grunted. “Hopefully they’re will be a brothel in a nearby town. Or maybe the one of the lord’s daughters will be attractive enough for me.”

“I’m sure there will be some kitchen maids to occupy your desires. I’m saving the lord’s daughters for myself.”

It was just before nightfall by the time they reached Glittermoore Hall, a modest holdfast along the White River. The castle, if one could even call it that, belonged to some fiefling, Lord Davik or something. He welcomed them with much hospitality, offering Daegar his bedchamber, honoured to host a prince of Boraelgrasp. Once he and his party were all settled in, he went to the great hall to feast. Outside the snows had returned, falling heavily upon the white fields.

He had not eaten all day and the taste of roasted venison greatly sated his appetite.

As he was finishing his second course, there was a knock at the large door.

One of Davik’s men at arms opened it, and inside came someone that Daegar did not expect.

“Bann!” Daegar said, recognizing the man immediately. “Of all places!” He stood up in an instant.

“I would say the same of you, cousin.” Daegar briskly walked over to his kinsman and embraced him.

“What are you doing out of the Coldcaves? I thought you hated the chills of winter?”

“I’d never come to admit that, would I now, cousin? I’d not be a true winterman if I did.” He smiled, brushing the snow out of his black hair. “But to answer your question I am on my way to Whitehold for the Yule’s Mass. I take it you are as well.”

“Aye. I have not been to our capital in some time, I’m afraid. I suppose I’m overdo, yes.”

Bann nodded. “Do you still hold anything against your dear brother? I understand the two of you got in quite a disagreement the last time you saw him.”

“We had our differences, yes, but I hope all has since passed.”

“And what, may I ask, did the argument entail again, dear cousin?”

Daegar scoffed, but willingly relayed the details to Bann. “During the Noorking Wars, during the Battle of the Fjord to be precise, those damn barbarians launched an invasion from their staging point on Mynock Isle, the center of their war effort. Stewart intended to meet them head on – to engage their commander, Dane Fjork Benjen. He was always one to fight battles honourably. I was in favour of hiding our men in the catacombs beneath the city, where Leego Nad’s tomb used to be, and surprising them from above. I wanted to slaughter each and every one of those bastards. Due to his superior rhetoric, the Magi Generals Vanar, Mitris, and Delanar chose his plan over mine.

“I had my orders: command the reserve troops and send them in when the enemy began to thin out the Alliance’s main ranks. The fucking reserves! I was not one to follow my brother’s idiotic plan, so what I did was I hid with my men in the catacombs, and as Vanar’s main force began to thin and he called for his reserve force, we took the blasted Noorkings by surprise, we did. My force and I slaughtered each and every one of them. I was chastised at first for not following orders, mostly by Lady Mitris and my brother, but Generals Vanar and Delanar commended me. ‘Without your ruthlessness,’ Vanar told me, ‘the battle may have belonged to the Noorkings.’ The Battle of the Fjord was the turning point of the war. Without my intervention we may be living in a Nordic controlled North!”

“So where does your brother play into all this? That was years ago.”

“Six months later, when we returned to Paletine as heroes, we found ourselves in this little tavern in Newtown and began reminiscing about the war. The victory at the Fjord had occurred a year and a half earlier and we began talking about the strategy we had used. Naturally the topic of my tactical brilliance arose and he began questioning my ‘honour’ or, rather, my lack thereof. It was I who one the day. Not he, not Vanar, but I. He did not understand that, so I left and returned to the dreary wasteland that I call home.” He gave a full-bellied laugh so large that the entire hall looked at him. “But now to you, cousin. When was the last time you sojourned at Whitehold?”

“Two years ago?” Bann recalled. “Maybe three. It was for the Harvest Feast. Or no; was it for Resurrection Day?”

Most of the hall was silent, and as Daegar realized this he turned to the fiefling. “Master Davik. May I introduce my cousin, the Baryn Bann Quinn. Master of Snowbridge and lord of the Coldcaves!”

The fiefling acknowledged the baryn’s presence and welcomed him to his home.

“Who’s the lad?” Daegar asked, pointing at a very young boy who came to sit next to Bann.

Bann grinned. “This fine specimen right here,” he said as he pulled him up to sit on his knee, “is my son. Flean FitzBann.” The little boy smiled and his father twitched his nose. “Can you say hello, Flean?”

He waved at Daegar. “Hello.”

“Bann, you never told me you had a bastard.”

His cousin shrugged. “It never came up. We saw each other for only three days two years ago. Besides, not very many people know anyway. Just he, my household, and his mother.” He turned to his son. “Flean,” he said sternly. “Why don’t you go find Staric and the boys? I have some business to attend to.”

“Yes father,” he said with obedience, and off he went.

“And who is his mother?”

“A scullery maid. Lyssa. Beautiful girl. She’s married now. One of my guards. He doesn’t know. I still bed her from time to time. I was…”

“Was what?”

“Hoping to make her my wife. I loved her. Still do, actually. I think she does too.”

Daegar laughed. “Maybe it’s just your cock she likes!”

“Yeah, that may be it.” Bann gave a slight sigh. “I feel she loves her husband though too. At least I still get to see her. I keep them both at Snowbridge for that reason.”

“And does the rest of the household know that she is the mother?”

“Oh God, no,” exclaimed Bann surprised. “They’d be all over her, and her husband would most likely be enraged. She’s the reason they do not know. My boy does not even know. I made her his wet-nurse.”

“Smart.”

“What can I say? I’ve always been clever.” Bann and Daegar both chuckled. “But in all seriousness, I’ve told them that she was the widow of a miller and died in childbirth.” He looked down towards his soup, gazing at his own reflection as he stroked his small goatee. “I’d give anything to marry her still. Ah, but it’s all stupid. A stupid dream.”

“You can’t be closer to the truth, Bann. A careless dream indeed.” Bann took a deep breath and put his spoon into the boll, but much of the orange liquid spilled back inside. “You’d be better off with a lord’s daughter. Someone who can bear you an heir – a trueborn son!”

“Actually, that is part of my reason for travelling to Wynter’s End.” He took a deep breath and looked his cousin in the eye. “I wish to legitimize Flean. So he can be baryn once I die.”

Daegar could not hold back his laughter. Bann closed his eyes. “Are you serious, Bann?” asked Daegar, still chuckling. “Just because a king says otherwise, that does not change the fact that he is indeed a bastard. That cannot be changed. Why, you’d do better off marrying a true, highborn lady.”

“Oh, I’m not disagreeing with you there, cousin.”

“Then why do you wish your bastard legitimized? A wife would bear you many fine sons suitable of inheriting your claims. My brother’s daughter is of age, as is Coun Dhaegon’s.”

“I’ve considered that much, don’t get me wrong, but I have no interest in dealing with the coun. And I believe your niece has been promised to another.”

“After the end of the conflict, it was discussed that she could be wed to a Black of Albus to ensure peace. Jacob or Jaycen or something. But instead he is being sent to Copenisle to serve as Cousin Ao̊gar’s ward.”

Bann sighed. “Your point?”

“My point? By Remulan law he cannot inherit your titles!”

“He’s still my son, Daegar. Flean can have whatever title I may give him. Remulan law means nothing anymore. He deserves my name, and would be just as much a son as any other ‘trueborn’ child I may have.”

“He’s a bastard!”

“He’s my son.” Daegar could see the ardent look in his cousin’s eyes. He meant no insult in the least; Daegar simply had strong views on the matter of bastards. It was common for many nobles, especially in the region, to have at least one baseborn child, but Daegar was not one of them. If I were to bring a child into the world, he would tell himself, I would only do so with a true woman worthy of a prince. Daegar could not even remember the last time he had been with a woman. It probably wasn’t since the celebration festivities that occurred after the Noorkings were defeated.

He and his brother were the only two Fortman males who had not fathered bastards. His dead brother had Rand, Bann had Flean. And Ao̊gar had Agrim. Stewart’s wife had even fathered one. He was probably dead by now. Rand and Flean himself had been murdered and Agrim carried away by Noorrking raiders. Either way, a bastard, while still a bastard, was still a son, something that Daegar did not have.

The topic was not again brought up by Daegar. He was always one to please and had no desire to offend others, let alone his kin. But he always held true to his beliefs while still knowing when to keep his mouth shut.

Stories were exchanged and tidings traded as the eve wore on. The storm outside died down and the moon rose over the expanse. A majority of the ale was drained by the guests, leaving very little for the fiefling and his own household, but it was seldom when both a prince and his baryn cousin came to stay at the castle of a minor lord. Once he had had as much ale as he could handle Daegar retreated to Lord Davik’s bedchamber, which was the top level of the hall’s only tower.

He had learned the next day that Kailen had indeed found himself a serving girl, and Bann the wife of the fiefling. By mid-morning the band, comprising of both Bann and Daegar’s companies, was already leagues away from the White River and Castle Glittermoore, en route to Wynter’s End…and Stewart.