Artys Arryn POV.
He sure went overboard.
The great hall of Gulltown was impressive. Not as vast as the Red Keep, but far from small.
Paintings lined the walls, mounted stag and boar heads stared down, chandeliers cast warm light over everything. I sat on the raised dais with the Graftons, overlooking the entire feast. Lavish didn't even begin to cover it.
"There was really no need to go to such lengths, Lord Grafton," I said to the man seated beside me.
"No, my lord. Your bet with the king granted a tax waiver for the entire Vale. My house seat is Gulltown, one of the five major cities of Westeros. The tax relief is a great help to my house. This feast is the least I could do," Lord Grafton replied.
He raised his cup. His wife gave a kind smile; their daughter sat quietly beside her, maybe fourteen.
I could read his intentions from a mile away. Betroth his daughter to the heir of the Vale and suddenly House Grafton climbs several rungs.
Sensible politics.
But I have no interest in marrying into House Grafton. In Westeros, marriages were tools, alliances, leverage, chains. It was the best way to form alliances.
One such alliance even caused the fall of the Targaryens, or rather the stupidity of the Targaryens. The alliance was being forged right in front of their eyes and they didn't do anything.
They forgot that without their dragons they were just like the rest of the lords in Westeros, not gods.
I could only hope my old man wasn't planning something stupid. I didn't want to get myself entangled in some messy marriage alliance.
If I stayed a bachelor, I could negotiate more easily in the future with the Dragon Queen, the Tyrells, or whoever, with a girl for marriage.
"So, little lord," Lady Grafton said, trying to keep the conversation alive after we ran out of topics, "how is your father doing back in King's Landing? I hope he is in good health."
"He's in excellent shape," I replied. "Still looks like he's in his prime. And don't forget, I recently gained a baby brother. That's proof enough of his vigor." I gave a small grin.
Though the remark of me calling Lysa his wife rather than mother seemed to have gotten more attention than the joke.
Baby brother my ass. This shit, back when I was watching the show, gave me vibes of a lighter version of Joffrey.
The day Robert dies, I'll probably have him executed. Or sent to the Wall. His mother? Banished to the Riverlands right as the Lannisters burn it down.
The Tully whore would only cause more trouble anyway, same for her spawn.
The music changed. At first, it was barely noticeable, a single string drawn slow and low. Then another joined it. Then another. Each note measured. Deliberate.
I looked toward the musicians, my mood turning into a roller coaster, confusion first, then fear, and finally anger.
Instinctively, my hand slid to the dagger hidden beneath my clothes. Please, gods. I just got into this world; I don't want to go back so soon.
The musicians were playing it.
The Rains of Castamere.
Fucking Tywin Lannister.
The last time I heard it was two years back when they played it on Joffrey's nameday. Tywin was there too. How could I forget him? That motherfucker was looking down on everyone.
The song was poison, rarely played outside the Westerlands. It meant one thing. House Reyne was annihilated by the Lannisters.
House Grafton wouldn't dare pull a stunt like the Red Wedding. This wasn't the War of the Five Kings.
From everything I knew, they were honorable, not Freys. The realm was stable. Robert was king. My father was Hand. Killing me would bring the wrath of seven kingdoms down on their heads.
Or maybe I was overthinking.
I glanced at Lord Grafton. He was still chatting with his daughter, oblivious.
"Lord Grafton… this song?" I asked in a low voice.
He turned his head, then closed his eyes. He had noticed it too.
"This song, this is," I started.
"Rains of Castamere," he snapped, his voice sharp with anger. Then softer, "Forgive me, my lord. I did not order this. Ser Will!"
Well, that does give me some assurance, and from his reaction it looks like he didn't intend it. Still, I held my dagger tightly, just in case things went south. You never know how things turn in the future.
The song was deeply tied to the Lannisters. It was usually played only in their lands; even the lords of the Westerlands rarely played it. It symbolized the annihilation of House Castamere by the Lion of Casterly Rock, Tywin Lannister.
"I would like to speak with the musicians," I said.
Lord Grafton blinked. The request caught him off guard.
I wanted to see this for myself. Was it a coincidence, or was it Tywin's way of reminding everyone who the real power was? I believed it was the latter.
But Tywin wasn't clumsy enough to be this obvious. He wouldn't do something so obvious. It had to be someone else who didn't know how to play politics well.
"You heard him. Bring the entire group before us, now," Lord Grafton ordered.
No, it's a bad idea. This was a large gathering. It would make a scene. I looked at the crowd, who were enjoying the feast so much they didn't notice anything.
"No. Not now," I said, looking at the knight beside us, who halted his steps and turned around after hearing my voice.
"Lord Grafton, let it play. Stopping it now would only disrupt the celebration and draw more attention. We sure don't want that," I said, looking straight into Lord Grafton's eyes.
"Let them continue playing it, but after this have them play… The First Flight of Falcon," I added with a smirk.
That song was about Artys Arryn, the founder of House Arryn, the man I was named after.
It was about his honor and how he defeated the kings of the First Men and founded House Arryn.
It was the only time the Vale had ever been taken, and afterward it stood unharmed for thousands of years to come until the dragons arrived. With dragons in the sky, the Vale's natural advantage disappeared.
"Also, place a handful of men near them. After the feast, I want to hear their explanation. They're not to slip away," I suggested.
The knight looked at Lord Grafton, to which he nodded.
"It will be done, my lord," he said, walking toward the musicians.
"If you'll excuse me, young lord, I must greet a few guests. Also, House Arryn of Gulltown has requested an audience with you. I will bring them to you shortly. Until then, my wife, who is looking extremely beautiful today, will host you," Lord Grafton said as he rose from his seat.
"Oh?" Lady Grafton raised a brow, a dangerous smile. "So I don't look beautiful every day?"
Women.
Why are they like this?
"No, my love, I didn't mean. You are always beautiful. Today you simply shine like the sun." He looked panicked. "I think I just heard Lord Royce calling me."
Liar.
House Arryn of Gulltown, the cadet branch that married into merchants centuries ago. Rumors said they were richer than the main line. Exaggerated, probably. Liquid wealth maybe, but real assets? Power?
The great houses were great for a reason.
"My lord, perhaps some Arbor wine? A fresh batch arrived yesterday," Lady Grafton offered, drawing my attention from the feast below.
"My lady, Lord Arryn has placed a limit on the young lord. He can only have two cups a day at most, and that too during gatherings like this. He already had two; I can't allow him to have more," Ser Jasper interrupted.
That fat bronze boar put his son and Ser Jasper in charge of overseeing me under the guise of security. They didn't allow me to drink past two cups.
Ser Robert was chatting with a maid, no, not chatting, but flirting. Looks like someone is getting lucky tonight.
"One more cup wouldn't hurt, Ser," Lady Grafton tried.
"No, my lady. Two cups. Lord Arryn's orders. Not a drop more," Ser Jasper rejected the request.
"Fine. Then I'll have apple pie," I said, pointing at the one near her.
She smiled, cut a slice, and placed it on my plate. "Thank you, my lady."
Lord Grafton came out of the crowd below with a fat man in his mid forties. He had a long beard, his clothes a mix of gold and blue, and on his chest was the sigil of a golden falcon, similar to House Arryn's, but the falcon was golden in color.
"Young lord, let me present to you Ser Ronnel Arryn, the current head of House Arryn of Gulltown," Lord Grafton introduced the man beside him.
"An honor to meet you in person, my lord," the man said smoothly. "Your archery in King's Landing is the talk of Gulltown. The rumors of your appearance didn't do you justice, a perfect blend of Arryn and Valyrian blood…"
Here comes another one. It's getting annoying at this point, all that praise and all the foot licking. It was starting to get on my nerves, and I couldn't even show it.
Because I was a noble, I had to behave like one, maintain etiquette in public, and all that.
"I have a gift for you, my lord," Ronnel said as two servants brought a giant wooden box. As they opened it, he picked up a bow. It was silverish in color, as if made of silver, which I guessed it was. Honestly, it was beautiful, but not my taste.
"A bow as a gift from our house to you, young lord. It is made by the finest craftsmen of Gulltown and coated in silver," Ser Ronnel Arryn explained.
"There was really no need for such a gift," I said, getting up from my chair and walking toward them.
"It is a thank you gift, my lord. We, the people of Gulltown, paid heavy taxes whenever we imported anything, but now, thanks to you, for the next twelve years we won't. This is nothing compared to that. Please accept it. It is our way of showing gratitude," Ronnel Arryn insisted.
The crown did not collect taxes on their own; House Arryn did as the liege lord of the Vale. The same is the case in every kingdom, and the lord paramounts then send a part of it to the crown. The rate varied based on how strong the king is.
But the crown still imposed import fees, basically tariffs, on all kinds of imports, but thanks to that bet with Lyanna Stark fanboy Robert the boar killer, they were now gone.
He must have paid a lot to the crown, considering how involved they were in trade. That made me wonder how much money they really had.
Maybe I should put my FBI on them.
Speaking of which, where the hell were my birds? I hoped they had spread and brought more people under my service.
I still remembered Pycelle being mad because many ravens had gone missing. Those who refused to enter my service were given death by my birds. That one eyed crow especially took this shit too seriously. Maybe I should promote him from lieutenant. And it was probably time to get some bigger birds too, falcons, eagles, into my service.
"Very well then. I will accept this," I said, taking the bow from Ser Ronnel's hand and examining it. It was pretty and beautiful. Maybe a little show off wouldn't hurt.
"Lord Grafton, why don't you throw some apples up and let's test the quality of this bow?" I said with a smirk. Checking the quality was just an excuse, the real reason was me wanting to show off.
~~~ An hour later,in the cells beneath Gulltown ~~~
Screams of pain echoed through the cells. Someone was being tortured.
"Little lord, perhaps you should go and sleep. I will deal with them before your first meal tomorrow. The truth will be on your table," Lord Grafton said with concern.
He was worried that a child like me shouldn't see all this torture. But I could see his own hands were trembling.
Pity. If only he could do that in bed too; his hands could serve as a vibrator for his wife.
"No, Lord Grafton. I believe it's you who should rest. Soyron, why don't you take Lord Grafton away." He simply nodded as he took Lord Grafton out of the cell.
"My lord, but," Lord Grafton tried to protest.
"Don't worry, my lord. They are in good hands," I said with a smile before turning and looking at the prisoners who were being tortured by the Unsullied.
I can only use the Unsullied, since they are the only ones truly under my command. The knights my father sent to guard me are still not my own; their loyalty is to my father, since he is the current Lord of the Vale.
Soon, Lord Grafton left with Soyrn. I looked at Kalen, who was torturing the men. He had put a knife in the man's thigh and was shaking it. The man couldn't even scream because of the cloth in his mouth.
"I think we are going overboard, my lord. All this just because of a song," Lord Royce said cautiously.
Well, yes. Just for playing The Rains of Castamere, it would be overboard. But I wasn't torturing them for that. It was something else.
"Lord Royce, it's not about the bloody song. It's about them being Lannister spies," I said, dismissing his concern, and looked the man being tortured straight in the eye. I could see his pain, but no fear.
That's it.
"Kalen, enough. This one isn't going to break. Get the other one," I shouted. As soon as I said it, he stopped the torture and went ahead to get the other one.
The man's gaze followed Kalen, then flicked to a blond-haired captive in the corner.
Fear. Real fear.
Found it.
The tortured man jerked his head. Blood droplets hit my tunic.
I gave him a cold smile.
POV ends.