If you notice mistakes, please tell me.
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As Edric stood before Lord Jon Arryn, the weight of the memory of a few days prior still fresh and pressing down on him, he couldn't shake the memory of his father's body, the faces of the dead, and the silent grief of Stonehaven's survivors. The dust of battle clung to his skin, and his hammer felt heavier than ever.
Jon Arryn regarded him quietly, his steely gaze softening just slightly. "You've done more than any man could have expected, Edric," he said, his voice steady, yet carrying the weight of respect.
Edric responded respectfully, as he had always done. "You honor me, my lord."
After a moment, Jon Arryn signaled for the steward, and a larger pouch was brought forward, gleaming with gold. Edric's eyes flickered to the pouch, a sudden tightness in his chest.
"Take this," Lord Arryn said. "Fifty dragons to help with any problem that has occured in Stonehaven. It will be enough to feed the survivors, compensate for the lack of men to work the fields for a time, rebuild what was destroyed, and ensure that the village can stand again."
Edric took the pouch from the servant, his fingers brushing over the cold metal. He swallowed, feeling a lump in his throat. It wasn't much, but it was more than he'd ever imagined, and it was more than just gold—it was a promise. A promise that the Vale wouldn't forget the sacrifice made by his people.
"You're too kind, my lord" Edric said quietly, voice thick with gratitude. "Stonehaven will never forget your generosity. They won't suffer anymore than they already did thanks to your aid."
Jon Arryn nodded, his face stern but not unkind. "It's the least I can do. You're one of us, Edric. Your bravery will be remembered, not just here, but in the history of the Vale. People are already calling you the Mountainsbane"
Edric paused, holding the pouch tightly, surprised at the title. The Mountainsbane, huh. I did hold of a host of mountain clansmen more numerous than my own host with only peasant farmers. He pondered. The gold was somewhat expected, however, as Jon Arryn was Protector of the Vale, and Stonehaven was directly under Arryn rule.
"Go," Jon Arryn added, his voice softer now. "Rest. Take a moon to mourn. Losing relatives is a grave consequence of battle and war as a whole. One should be allowed to grieve in piece."
Edric thanked him and turned away, the pouch of gold in his hand heavy with both the weight of the task ahead and the weight of the world that now rested on his shoulders.
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After the grief of burying his father and friends, Edric spent a full moon immersed in solitude, his heart heavy with the weight of loss. Every passing day was a slow, painful march. The village clawed its way back to its old way of life. Despite the losses, everyone had started to move on.
One afternoon, a messenger arrived at Stonehaven with word from Lord Jon Arryn. Edric was to come to the Eyrie once more, and this time, there would be a new task for him.
In the Eyrie, Lord Jon Arryn awaited him, his presence as commanding as ever. The large hall was quiet, save for the crackling of the fire and the faint rustle of papers on a nearby desk. Lord Arryn looked Edric over—cleaner now, though the tired lines under his eyes remained.
"I hope you have had enough time to come to terms with reality." the Lord of the Vale began, his voice measured. "Stonehaven will recover, thanks to you. It's time to move on however."
"Yes, my lord."
Lord Arryn continued, "I've kept a close eye on your work—the weapons you forged, and even the armor you crafted for Ser Harwin. I had given Master Morden the reins in making you do as he saw fit, and he gave you some liberty."
He gestured to the table beside him, where there were several scrolls and sketches. Edric leaned in slightly, his curiosity piqued.
"Now I will be placing an order. I'd like you to craft fifty sets of dark plate armor," Jon Arryn said, his eyes meeting Edric's. "Preferably like the one you made for yourself, you said yourself that it was much lighter than the others. I want them completed by this time next year."
Edric blinked. "Fifty? In a year?"
"Of course," Jon Arryn replied. "Seven gold dragons each. The first set to be delivered in the next week, then. The remainder to follow. You made yours and Ser Harwin's in a week (I modified chapter 9, in which he said that he will make it in a day. He makes it in a week just like in chapter 10.) Any set even remotely bridging the gap with this level of quality would take multiple moons for lesser men, but you work much faster than them."
Edric felt a flicker of disbelief, though he quickly masked it. Seven gold dragons for each set of armor was in truth a decent sum. The average undecorated full plate was worth around 2 gold dragons and his armor was lighter due to the ability to make the plate thinner without losing to much protection. He'd be making serious money.
"Seven dragons a set?" Edric asked, keeping his voice even.
Jon Arryn nodded. "Seven. And five and fifty stags if you add my sigil to the thing's breastplate. But consider this an opportunity, Edric. Not just for the coin, but for your name. Armor like this, of your quality... You already have a name in the Eyrie, and even the other nobles of the Vale have heard of you by now. But this will elevate your position as undisputed best in Westeros and will make a name for you in the Seven Kingdoms and beyond. People will remember your work. And you'll have the gold to show for it."
Edric swallowed, his mind racing. The work would be grueling, no doubt, but the gold... and the recognition. It was something he couldn't turn down.
He nodded slowly,. "Of course, Lord Arryn. Though, if I may, while Seven dragons is perfectly fair for all the benefits you have allowed me under your roof, the steel is far more valuable. I only ask that when others complain that you only pay seven that you answer that you already paid me in other manners."
"It might be a little more valuable than what I buy it of you at. How much do you think it is worth?"
"A little more than gold. Though I won't sell it for as much for now."
The Lord almost laughed, but held himself back in time.
"It's true! I'm the only one who can make it, my lord."
"Very well, you may do as you see fit. " Jon Arryn said, giving him a small smile.
"See to it however that they have what they paid for and nothing less, or I will hold you accountable." He warned becoming stern once more.
"As you command my lord."
Jon continued. "Take the time you need. But I expect those fifty sets of armor by this time next year."
Edric returned to his forge in the Eyrie immediately. He couldn't afford to dwell on grief, for the time for mourning has past as Arryn said. Especially not when there was so much work ahead. And when the forge called to him, when the sound of hammer on steel rang through the air, he could almost forget the weight of everything else.
Fifty sets of armor in one year. It wasn't impossible. And it would pay well.
There were roughly two and fifty weeks in a year. Making one per week along with designs requested would yield a fortune of three hundred and seventy-five dragons.
Such an amount, enough to feed an entire village at an inn for a year was definitely worth the struggle.