The Raven
7th Moon 135AD
"You have been quite busy." Brandon noted as they sat in his office, mulled wine in hand.
Ser Glen Manderly took his own warm drink to his mouth for a taste before he gave a satisfactory nod of the head. "Can't be helped. Our noble friend from the Vale has been keeping me on my toes."
"Yes," he said slowly as he recalled the conversations he's had with their erstwhile dignitary from the Vale. Brandon couldn't really say anything bad about the man apart from the fact that his loyalty to Ronnel Arryn was genuine at the very least. "His frustration at my supposed inaction has been noted."
Ser Glen peered at him from the rim of his chalice, a glint in his eyes. "He might have a point."
Brandon felt the urge to roll his eyes, but he didn't. "I support you and your goal, good ser. I am of the mind that your course of action will not work."
"Your king has proven himself to be mindful of his lords."
"In terms of internal matters that affect the realm. The Vale is of an external matter and his position on that is one I am quite sure he will not move from."
The ser made a noise as he hummed. "Perhaps I was wrong in thinking you an ally of the north."
"My loyalty first and foremost is to the Trident." He replied smoothly, drinking from his own chalice. His drink seemed a little lukewarm but still bearable in taste.
The knight nodded. "It seems I might have to rethink of how many friends the north has in your kingdom."
"The north and the Starks can consider House Blackwood friends, good ser. Just know that until my dying breath, House Blackwood will not go against the wishes of its king, even if we disagree on the course of action he is taking."
"So, you disagree with his policy of neutrality then?"
Brandon frowned for a moment before his features relaxed. He realised he had walked into that one. This Manderly knight was rather astute to picking up the little things, though he doubted what he had said was quite little but rather blatant.
"I might be of a different opinion, yes."
It was only after the war with the Reach and the Westerlands had he realised how close his father's machinations had come close to ruining the Trident and the very fate of House Blackwood. If on the off-chance that Edmyn had lost, the Reach and Westerlands would have brought death to any of the houses that followed the old gods at the urging of the Faith.
Now that he really thought about it, the course of action they had taken, although somewhat justified, might have brought ruin upon them all. It was thanks to the gods that Edmyn had somehow proved himself to be quite competent in terms of warfare.
"You can voice your disagreement." Ser Glen was saying gently. "Provide your king with good counsel as to how his policy might not be the best for the kingdom. A good king listens to his lords and is your king not a good one?"
Brandon thought about it for a minute. "He is." He relented with a sigh.
Edmyn had a strange way to go about it, but even he would admit that the man was surprisingly effective and decent for a king. He held no prejudice to the followers of the old gods, nor even the two split branches of the Faith despite having been raised underneath the Old Faith.
He was surprisingly tolerant, something that really shouldn't have surprised him considering the nature of how the riverlands was built upon.
Edmyn's suggestions and policy had seen the riverlands bloom in more ways than one. The houses could count themselves wealthier. The people did not count for food, even if lack of food had always been something unheard of in their lands outside times of war.
Hells, even the lands were bountiful in the number of smallfolk roaming about. He had never thought in his life or at all, that a small town would start to come to bloom around Raventree Hall.
"Then speak to him." Ser Glen was badgering him, though never in an urging manner that would be considered rude. "Tell him of the folly of keeping himself out of the Vale's troubles. Think of your beloved kingdom, my lord. Think of its history. Think of everything that you have been told and learned about Jonos."
"Your opinion about the would-be-usurper is hardly the most impartial, good ser." He noted with some wry amusement in the tone of his voice.
At that accusation, Ser Glen snorted. "I hardly have anything against Jonos. I have never met the man, nor do I care for him, I just happen to be working at an agenda that happens to be against him. Of course, I'm going to be biased against him. From all accounts though, he seems to be a good, honourable man."
A good honourable man? Is that what they were calling men who would plunge their kingdoms into civil war and throw hundreds of years of laws into the dirt?
From all accounts, this Jonos fellow didn't seem to be all that smart. If he even knew half of the consequences of his actions, then he wouldn't go about with the folly that he was seemingly trying to take upon.
"How honest of you."
"We of the north are quite the honest men." The Manderly man said with a raise of his chalice.
Brandon wisely held back a snort.
They parted not long after, the knight from the north leaving him much to think about. And when he thought about it, the more he realised he didn't like it and how the Manderly man had a point, as much as he didn't like it.
The troubles in the Vale, whether the king wanted to keep them as far away from himself and the Trident as possible would be forced upon them. Brandon doubted that simply looking away from the troubles of the Vale would just mean they would disappear.
He had his own reservations about this Jonos fellow and what his actions could very well mean for the future of their kingdom. Not just his actions, but his entire person. So, he seeked out his counterpart in the king's cabinet.
Riverrun was no small council by any means, but when it came to staffing the full breadth of the king's 'Civil Service' it seemed that if every nook and cranny had been filled with nothing but clerks of a kind. Even the offices that had been granted to his 'Department' had taken the full breadth of an entire hall-way.
It had come to the point that the king was building an entire new settlement just to house all the important functionaries required to running the kingdom he envisioned. 'Edmynburgh.' He nearly let out a snort of laughter at the name.
Was the name self-important? Yes, but then again, it could very well be argued that Edmyn deserved the honour. He was certainly one of the titans of the age, perhaps the titan of the age. In Westeros.
The title of a true titan of the age would more than likely go to the abomination that forged an empire for himself across the narrow sea.
What was the meaning behind 'burgh' anyway? Perhaps he shall have to ask the man himself at a later date.
Brandon found his quarry outside the door of his own offices, speaking in hushed tones to his nephew, Edmure Butterwell. He slowed down his pace to allow them to talk for a little longer and for them to notice him before he got any closer that it might seem rude.
Taking in Willem and his nephew, he couldn't help but note that they had started coming to wear the sort of fashion that had been starting to make the rounds amongst Riverrun and soon enough the entire kingdom. After all, what was the fashion worn by the king would no doubt be copied by the lords themselves.
It was a strange jerkin that the king repeatedly and insisted was called a vest, worn over a smooth woollen shirt and a long piece of cloth tied around the neck called a tie. Their king was a strange one, if a slightly effective strange one.
Edmure Butterwell was the one to notice him as he neared them, stopping the conversation he was having with his uncle to greet him. "Lord Blackwood, a pleasure!"
"The same to you, ser, Lord Darklyn." He said, greeting the two men. He turned towards the one that he truly wished to speak to, he did not mean to be rude or slight the younger lordling, but this was a matter of rather great import. "Apologies for interfering with your talk, but I have to speak to you urgently, my lord."
Willem Darklyn looked at him for a moment before nodding his head and sending his nephew away with a good word before he led Brandon into the private confines of his office. "So what troubles you so, Lord Blackwood?" He asked, offering a seat.
"Jonos Arryn."
The Lord of Duskendale only nodded then in understanding. "I see, how can I be of service?"
"What do you know of him?"
"About as much as what has been said." Brandon gave him a long look at his answer before the lord laughed some. "I jest, but in truth, I suppose I know better than most considering my duties to the Crown."
"That would be?"
Lord Willem was quiet for a moment, as he turned to look out over the expanse of Riverrun as he was in his thoughts. "That it would be an utter shame for the Vale if he ascended to the Falcon Throne."
Lord Brandon breathed in through his teeth at the statement. "I figured as much."
"Why the interest in Jonos?" His counterpart asked, turning to face him. "He's actions and activities are well outside of your jurisdiction. Please don't tell me this has nothing to do with Ser Glen."
"Nothing of the sort." He lied.
The relationship between House Blackwood and the northern dignitary was well known. There was no need to hide it. Anyone with half a brain could have made the guess that the Manderly knight would at first try to befriend the major old gods house in the south.
It certainly would have been surprising if he didn't take that course of action, but that particular course of action was the easiest and most likely to yield fruits of friendship or fruits of some kind.
"I know of the man and have heard of him, but I sincerely doubt that him ascending the throne of the Vale would bode well for the Trident. History has very few effective warrior-kings, our own gracious king notwithstanding."
"His grace would deny that he was anything but that." Willem noted with some dry amusement.
Brandon felt like snorting. "His history would say otherwise. Our king loves peace, a worthy goal for a king to be true, but that cannot be said of our neighbours."
"Jonos would be a fool to make an enemy out of us." Willem's chest puffed out in pride. "The Trident is the strongest kingdom in Westeros. We could stand the entire might of the entirety of Westeros if need be."
"That is a horrible jape to make." Brandon said with a look. "Don't do that."
"You can forgive a man of being a little proudful of his country."
Brandon raised an eyebrow at the word but discarded it. This talk of kingdom and country was certainly a strange development, but one that was mostly borne in the lordlings and smallfolk that grew within the great influence of Riverrun.
It was at the very least, nice to know that they held loyalty to the kingdom in high esteem. Though he couldn't help but wonder where their houses came into that equation.
"Pride is all well and good, as long as it's not misplaced." He chided the younger lord with all due respect for a man of his station. "But even you should know that no-one kingdom can take on the might of the entire continent."
"I do, but you give us riverlanders little faith. Our history has proven us to be quite tenacious when need be." He waved away the subject though. "But this talk of Jonos and the future he represents is of a more serious subject, no?"
Brandon nodded. "It is."
"Then we shall talk of that, then."
So, they talked about Jonos and Ronnel. Of which of the two would be a better neighbour to the Trident.
If he could say so for himself, Brandon thought the talks were quite fruitful, even if the Darklyn lord was a little too hot-headed for his liking. His heart might have been in the right place, it just so happened that he kept his head out of it, most of the time.