Chapter 14: Lorys
After a good battle, a man wanted refreshments. His feelings were elated, and he needed something to bring those emotions even higher. Lorys' men found it with a tavern not too far away from the battle, where they set up camp and paid for food and refreshments. To Lorys' elation, it was also a brothel, with a bevy of beautiful whores as was unlike most found in Westeros. As Lorys sat with Bryen and some other officers, he was attempting to decide which one he would have. Perhaps the brunette with the fine rump, or the blonde with the fine balcony? There was the one dark-haired one with quite a bit of meat on her, although she was perhaps more for Dermot's liking than his own. Ah, that maester, with his love for women, almost as matched by Lorys' own. How the knight-turned-lord missed his maester, so far away now.
"What say you?" Lorys suddenly said, turning towards Bryen. "The blonde or the brunette? I am at a loss, I must admit..."
Bryen seemed to get the most utterly confused look on his face, "M'lord?"
Lorys raised an eyebrow. Was the accountant this daft? "The blonde or the brunette?"
Bryen glanced over to the two women. A most uncomfortable feeling came from his face, which seemed to look at once worried and angsty. He began to grip his mug tightly, and gazed into its liquid contents as if attempting to find the answer there.
"Whatever is the matter with you, Bryen?" Lorys asked. The warrior steward had seemed less confused on the battlefield.
"Well," Bryen began, "it's just...pardon me, m'lord, but...you
are a married man, are you not?"
Lorys smirked, "And? Do you see Lady Eglantine in this brothel?"
"N-no sir..."
"And thank the gods for it. I don't think anyone would desire her plain body."
"But m'lord...when you married her, you placed your family crest over her, vowing to protect her-"
"Do not lecture me on morals, Bryen. Every man enjoys a woman while out on campaign – there is no harm in it. Even Eddard Stark, with all his ethics, has himself a bastard son." Lorys glanced back to the two potential whores, "I think I will take the blonde, then. Would you like the brunette, Bryen? You commanded your force well – I will be paying for her as your reward."
At that, Bryen stood up and adjusted his armor nervously, "If you will excuse me, m'lord..." He kept his eyes down as he turned and walked out of the building, into the Threedrop camps. Lorys could only shake his head and think, "What a strange man he is..."
The Threedrop army arrived at Sharp Point in July of 295, AL. The Massey army was there, about 2500 strong, Lorys knew, and he expected to meet with Lord Maric himself there. The castle itself was found at the far end of the hook, the famous tower rising high into the sky. It was evening when the Lockport army drew close to the walls, and the great flame burning atop the tower was seen bright against the darkened sky. Lorys rode at the front of his army, flanked by his subordinate commander Bryen, and hailed the guards to let him in. Ordering the army (and Bryen) to remain outside, Lorys dismounted and walked through the opened portcullis. He was led by an officer into the main room of the tower, where he was surprised to meet not Lord Maric, but someone else...a septon.
"Ah, Lord Lorys Threedrop," the septon said, "I was told you had arrived. We are most happy to welcome you to Massey's Hook."
Lorys nodded, then said curtly, "I do not believe I have had the honor of meeting you yet..."
"Ah, forgive me," said the septon, smiling and bowing his head slightly, "I am Gawen, Septon of Stonedance. I am in command of the armies here, on behalf of his lordship."
"And where is his lordship?" Lorys asked.
The septon let out a heavy sigh – the sincerity of which Lorys was unsure about, "Well, I am very sorry to say that our lordship was captured in battle, and is currently being held in Dragonstone. However, I hear he is being treated well, and we of course intend to carry on the struggle, in his absence."
Lorys nodded, but shot a rather scornful glance to the desk the septon sat at – not so much for the desk itself, but the fact the septon appeared undesiring to rise up from it. The septon smiled at him awkwardly, finally convincing the lord that he needed to say something:
"We met the Dragonstone forces in Stonedance. We scattered them."
"Oh yes, I heard," Gawen said, "we were most rejoiceful to hear it. I would have easily driven them from the Hook myself, but we had needs to meet here..."
As in, warming your chair, Lorys though to himself. "And why have you not sought to sail to Dragonstone?"
The septon let out a sigh, folding his hands over the desk in slow movements, "Well, I fear that the gods are not for us in that regard, not quite yet. There are fears of the storms that hit our coast, for they are unpredictable and sporadic, and Stannis' own fleet sails around the island, in search of any who would dare land on the island. I have taken council, and we have decided it best to wait it out until a more opportune time."
They were obviously good reasons to the septon, but in Lorys' mind, all he could hear was
Excuses, excuses, excuses. The septon simply didn't want to put forth the effort in leading the army. He was content in holding his forces here in what amounted to a stalemate: Stannis, with his bruised forces, would sit on Dragonstone, content and safe; Gawen, with his fears and incompetance, was going to sit in Sharp Point, knowing Stannis would never have the ability to launch another attack against mainland Westoros. Given a year or two, the opposing sides just might agree to a white peace.
As Lorys made his way out of the Sharp Point tower to rejoin his army, he thought on this situation, and decided that he did not like it one bit. He could wait a little bit, but not as long as Gawen or Stannis. He knew the longer they waited, the more Stannis could replenish his ranks, or find allies to enter the war and give him a greater advantage. Dragonstone was on the defensive, and that had to be utilized. Gawen was a septon, and was used to twiddling his thumbs while he waited for his gods to do all the work; Lorys was a knight, and a soldier – when he wanted something done, he girded his loins and went and did it. The Lockport lord would not sit here in Sharp Point and simply wait for the war to end. He had not come clear across the Stormlands for that.
By the time he left the Sharp Point castle, the Lockport army had already begun setting up their camp outside the walls, not too far from the camps set up by the rest of the Massey's Hook army had set up. Bryen was sitting in the command tent, looking through the supply lists and double checking the numbers for food, arrows, etc.
Counting, as always, Lorys thought. If Bryen was placed on a deserted island, he would probably spend the rest of his life counting the specks of sand. When the accountant-turned-soldier saw his lord enter, he stood up quickly.
"M'lord," Bryen said, "welcome back. I was just going over our supplies."
"Very good," Lorys said. "You may be doing it for quite a while. Our dear Masseys are content with sitting here on their arses while Stannis reforms his army."
Bryen blinked and looked down...although Lorys couldn't help but feel that there was a glimmer of happiness in his eyes, "Oh...I see."
"Unfortunately for them, however, I am not. I desire to sail to Dragonstone as soon as possible. Unfortunately, I do not have any ships on me, and Lockport has barely a rowboat to set sail. I will need to find mercenaries – you know, sellsails – to sail us across. I want you to search the taverns and spread the word, and see if there is anyone looking for work."
"Yes, I will, right away, m'lord," Bryen said. However, he obviously did not meant
quite right away, because he stood there. He seemed to be very nervous about something, which made Lorys very uneasy. He looked at Bryen blankly, waiting for the man to say something.
When Bryen remained silent, Lorys finally said, "What is it? Do you have something to tell me?"
"Yes, well..." Bryen stammered, as if unsure of how to say the words that followed. After quite a few seconds of his mouth opening and closing, as if words were conceived and then died over and over again, Bryen finally said, "There is a woman outside the camp...she says that she knows you."
Lorys raised an eyebrow. He could tell there was something Bryen was leaving out. "Who is this woman, and what does she want?"
Bryen swallowed, loudly, and said, "Well, to be honest, m'lord, it is the woman you saw at the tavern, not too long ago. The...the blonde one. She...well, m'lord, she has a child. A boy."
"Ah, is that it?" Lorys said. This reaction did not seem to be what Bryen had expected, for the accountant-turned-soldier glanced towards the lord, eyes wider than they had been before. His mouth opened and closed. He started to look like a fish out of water, desperately breathing for air, which started to annoy Lorys. "Don't flap your lips, man. Sometimes when the gods so choose, a man planting his seed in a woman will make a child. It happens every day. That
is how you were made, is it not? Now what does she want?"
"Forgive me, m'lord," said Bryen, doing his very best to regain his composure (which wasn't much), "it's just, well, she is wondering what you intend to do about it? She thinks you will make a better father than her a mother..."
"I'll accept the child as mine," Lorys said, "send him home to Eglantine...let it be a present to her, from me."
In September of 295 AL, Bryen sent word to Lorys that he may have found someone willing to supply them with the boats, for a proper price. The lord accompanied his subordinate towards the nearby town, going into the tavern and led into the back eastern corner. It was there that Lorys was greeted by a heavyset man who looked to be in his middle ages, and wearing prestine armor that glowed from the fireplace burning nearby. Even though he was not quite old enough for white hair, this man appeared to have hair as white as snow. Upon getting closer, however, Lorys noticed that the man had some blonde tinges to the whiteness, and before anyone introduced him, the knight-turned-lord could only imagine where this gentleman was from.
"This is Narbo," Bryen said, motioning towards the man, who was seated at the table and did not stand up. "Captain Narbo, this is Lord Lorys, of the House Threedrop."
"And what is to be dropping?" Narbo said, grinning with his pudgy cheeks. His Lyseni accent was unmistakable. "I am hoping it is not dung."
"Ask the Kingsguard," Lorys replied, taking a seat himself with either showing a slight for Narbo's lack of protocol, nor did he offer Bryen to sit with them, "they were a member short when they found out."
"A joke, that is what I am making," Narbo said, lowering his voice a little and waving his hand. "Of course, it is the blood which is dropping. The banners, I am seeing them all about the place. But your man, this Bryen, yes? Bryen is his name. He is to be telling me that you are needing boats."
"Yes," Lorys said, drumming one set of fingers over another, "I need boats to take my men across the Dragonstone Sea and land them on the islands. I intend to take the war to Lord Stannis and end it myself."
"Sea, she is a problem for men, yes? Worst than wives, I am thinking. But they cannot to be overcoming, yes? A man having a bad wife, he is to be finding a whore. A man having trouble with sea, he is to be finding a boat. So I am thinking that I am to be your whore now, yes?"
Narbo grinned at that, and Lorys obliged him with a soft chuckle, "Yes, I suppose so...but I show my whores love, and I pay them well."
"Your love? I am not to be needing. Your payment? That I will gladly to be taking. Thirty ships, I have, Drop of Three." Narbo held up three fingers on one hand, and made a fist with the other. "These thirty ships, she is to be yours. Fifty dragons."
Lorys had calculated (with Bryen's help, obviously) how much they would have in the treasury by now: sixty dragons. They would be able to afford Narbo's bargain...but perhaps he could get a better bargain...
"Thirty dragons," Lorys said.
Narbo laughed, causing his cheeks and chins to waddle, "Thirty? And here you are to be saying that you are to be paying your whores well. No, you are not to be loving Narbo."
Lorys held a hand up, "But there will be something added to our deal. You can blockade Dragonstone, and take any ship you want. There will be merchants sneaking in – whatever is on their ships are yours to keep. And of course, we will continue to pay you properly during this duration."
Lorys could tell that the offer tempted him. The Lyseni leaned back in his chair, pursing his thick lips and staring at the lord, who simply stared back. Lorys had made his need for ships known, and he had attempted to show Narbo that there was some advantage in his cooperation. The Lyseni's eyes were thinking on it, the gears in his head rolling over and over...and then...
...Narbo grinned, and pointed an iron gloved finger at Lorys, "Aha! You are treating this one well like whore! You are loving me and to be showing it by loving. Very well, these thirty ships, they are to be yours. The ships around Dragonstone, they are to be mine. Stannis, he is to being yours too. Do not to be loving him as whore, though."
At that, Lorys stood and held out his hand, "Then it is a deal."
Narbo stood and clutched Lorys' hand hard, the cold metal wrapping around the lord's skin, "It is to being deal."
The plan was set for October. Thirty ships would dock near Sharp Point, load up the Lockport soldiers, and send them towards Dragonstone. There, they would trap Stannis in his fortress, and end this conflict to the glory of the House Threedrop.
Depending on how the AI chooses to raise them. But I guess that says a lot about the children raising system in CK2.
