RICHARD
Richard Lonmouth closed his eyes, licked his smiling lips, breathed in deep through his nose in anticipation and raised the skin. It was the greatest moment of his life, the familiar cooling wetness on his lips, the slightly sour taste on his tongue, the soothing movement of his throat as he swallowed. Was there ever a creation more divine than the sweet nectar of Dornish Red?
Bryce cocked one eyebrow and frowned slightly at the knight from his saddle. It was a look that Richard had seen a thousand times before on a thousand different faces, something that had existed from the dawn of time at the very moment when the first man developed a sense of expectation of the world; disappointment.
So what if he's disappointed? I spent five years as a studious and dutiful knight and where has it gotten me?Richard couldn't rightly say for sure, but wherever it was he wasn't enjoying it.
He had not set out with the goal of drinking whilst on an errant for the king, but it quickly became the most sensible option presented to him when he considered what Rhaegar had asked of him. If anything he found that the journey was moving a lot quicker and his thoughts were less plagued by his king's sad words.
"I can see the Inn, Ser," Bryce was standing up in his stirrups, pointing just ahead. "It looks smaller than you described though."
Richard gave a tired nod as he put his wineskin away. "It was rebuilt a few times after the war, each time they had less to spend on it."
Indeed it was a small thing. Four walls made from mismatched stone, a partially demolished chimney and a stable that looked like it could take perhaps three horses at best. When Richard first laid eyes on the place it had stood twice as big, with room enough to give more than a dozen men lodgings should the need require. Back when he was a squire it seemed like a good place for travellers. Time makes fools of us all….
As they dismounted a stableboy emerged and gave them a long, sceptical look. He looked to be no more than ten, a pasty little thing that was all skin and bones. With an odd reluctance he took the reins from Richard and Bryce. "I'll want them fed and watered, can you tend to them?" Richard told him.
"Aye, I'll see to it." he replied bitterly before spitting into the hay.
Richard and his squire exchanged a look of confusion before leaving the boy to it. At this hour he expected the inn to be crowded, but the common room was almost empty save for three men sitting hunched over by the Innkeep, who looked at Richard with wide eyes. Whilst two of them sat drinking, the third had his hands down a young girl's bodice. Richard could tell plainly that she wasn't enjoying the man's attentions. A fourth man sat in the corner, eating a bowl of oats noisily.
"I'll have ale and the boy will have water," he told the Innkeep as he sat himself down by an empty table. "And we'll both have something warm in our bellies."
The Innkeep looked about at his other guests, worry in his eyes. "We…uh…we have a rabbit stew."
"Stew will be fine," Richard said with a dismissive wave.
The old man hesitantly moved away from the others and went about pouring Richard's drink. As he brought it and Bryce's cup of water over Richard noticed that he was shaking. When he looked up the man winced and quickly scurried off to fetch the food. Richard quickly turned his attention to his ale and took a deep swallow. The blessing of the gods, he thought, nice brown ale with the promise of a warm meal.
Bryce didn't seem to share the knight's joy, and continued to watch the three men as they continued to pester the young woman. The squire's hands were clenched and his jaw was set, his whole body tense with anger. "We should do something," he whispered. "That girl doesn't like it."
"She's a barmaid," the knight replied with a shrug. "Sometimes patrons get touchy when in their cups. Nothing will come of it beyond the fondling."
The boy didn't agree. "They don't look drunk to me, Ser."
By that point the Innkeep came out with two bowls of warm stew and sheepishly placed them on the table. Richard reached into his pockets and dropped a small collection of coppers onto the table and began eating without a seconds thought. The old man scrapped up the coin and quickly hurried back to his place, yet as he did one of the other patrons grabbed him by the arm.
"I think you have something for me," he sneered, wine stained down his jerkin. "Every man's got his taxes to pay."
The old man whimpered, but handed over the coin.
Bryce was squeezing his spoon so hard that it began to bend. "We should do something Ser, he's stealing from that Innkeep!"
Richard frowned and thought back to his time in the King's chambers. Why should I help some stranger when what Rhaegar asks of me would likely see this old man and his daughter just as dead and their lands burnt to ash? He couldn't tell the boy that of course, so instead just gave an artless shrug.
"Well if you're not going to do anything then I will!" he hissed, rising from the table.
The knight caught his arm. "Bloodying your sword isn't the way to solve all of the world's problems."
Bryce just shrugged him off and walked over to the men, face intent. The others barely looked up at him as they continued to laugh amongst each other and it wasn't until he was right in front of them, fists clenched that they paid him any mind.
"What you want boy?" one with the wine stains asked.
"You stole coin from that old man," the boy's voice was steady; he didn't look half as scared as he felt. "And you're distressing this lady."
The one with his hand down the woman's bodice gave him an ugly look. "I ain't doing anything this whore don't enjoy," he gave her a pinch and then laughed. "Wait yer turn boy."
Bryce took a breath, the first sign of unease, and then looked at them again. "Leave the lady alone, give the man his coin back and we need not make any more of this."
"We serve Tywin Lannister boy," Wine stain told him. "And if we want to collect a little tax from his people then we will. Run off before I shove my knife through yer skull."
From his seat Richard slowly washed down the last of his stew with another mouthful of ale, feeling almost contented. In the corner of his eye he could see the third man walk around the back of Bryce, no doubt planning to catch him unawares. The knight picked up his ale, took a long, slow, swallow and rose to his feet. He pointed to them each of the sigils the bore in turn. "Houses Greenfield, Serret, Kenning. You are all in service to them?"
The men eyed him warily then, and Bryce managed to take the girl's hand and lead her over to her father. Richard could see them all, twitching for a fight. The one with the wine stains spat and took a few steps forward. "What do you care?"
"I care," he drawled, "because I want to have the exact names of those responsible when I tell King Rhaegar that you have been brutalizing peasants."
Wine stain spat again. "The king ain't here."
Richard rolled his eyes and then pointed to the fourth man, who was in the midst of downing a second bowl of oats. The sigil on his shield and the man himself looked very familiar to him from his time at Harrenhall. "Ser Amory Lorch," he announced loudly. "Surely you recognise the king's own former squire?"
The man stopped wolfing down his meal long enough to squint his piggy eyes over at Richard for a moment before realization flashed across his face. "Ser Richard?"
"The same," his eyes flickered over to the other three. "Tell your men that if they don't apologise to my squire I'll have them all sent to the Wall."
Lorch frowned, but quickly turned a snarling gaze at his men. "Do as he says!"
There was a grumble of half-hearted and reluctant string of apologies and Richard couldn't help but smile. "Now, if you would return this kind Innkeep's coin, and apologise to his daughter then this matter can be settled."
The men gaped at him in disbelief and when they saw his serious expression they turned to Lorch who only gave them a scowl. Reluctantly the wine stained brute handed over a fistful of coins, which the old man took with trepidation and disbelief, whilst the other directed an apology at the young woman's feet.
"Good," Richard said. "Now, here's how we're going to precede. Tonight I and my squire are going to purchase some rooms to sleep in. Our horses will be tended to, our beds will be of a decent standard of comfort, and in the morning our breakfast will be warm. After such time we will push on to do the Crown's business at Casterly Rock," he turned to Amory Lorch. "Now…..when Bryce and I arrive we would very much appreciate it if Lord Tywin was forewarned. I think perhaps the crown would consider it a favour if you and your men got on your horses and rode to Casterly Rock and let the Old Lion know I'm coming."
Wine stain scowled. "What? At this time of night?"
Lorch stood from his table, walked a few paces and gave the man a backhand before turning to Richard. "Aye, Ser….I shall see to it."
Richard's eyes were hard. "See that you do it now."
There was a moment of tension, but the men knew a threat when they saw one and hurried from the warmth of the Inn quickly enough. Yet Richard did not remove his hand from his sword until he had heard the sounds of their horses galloping in the distance.
"Get me another drink."
The men that built Casterly Rock lacked nothing in skill and everything in modesty. The walls, carved deep into the stone, had stood since the Age of Heroes and never once fallen to an enemy, and because of that fact the Lannisters had seen fit to adorn every single aspect of them with some form of gold embellishment. The great hall practically glowed like a forge with all the gold that adorned the walls, lion statues siting guard by the pillars, golden tapestries hung about, golden finery on the few Lannister kinsmen gathered about to match the gold of their hair, even the chair up on the dais that the Lord of Casterly Rock sat upon was made entirely from gold.
"Ser Richard of House Lonmouth," the herald called as the knight and his squire crossed the wide floor, their pace measured, watched by guardsmen at the walls, men with cross-bows to left and right, swordsmen at the plinth and by the door.
Five years had wrought no change in Tywin Lannister. He sat in his high-backed chair, his doublet the colour of blood edged with gold. Cold eyes watched them from the shadow of his brow, green flecked with gold.
"Lord Tywin," Richard said. In his mind, he had made his speech a hundred times but somehow looking at the Lord of Lannister in person stole his words from his tongue. The silence stretched on between them. "I hope that you are-"
"-Ser Richard," he said, his voice as cold as his eyes. "You have not travelled all the way from the capitol to bring me your hopes and I'm sure that his grace would not want us to waste his precious time. I think we can dispense with the pleasantries."
Easy now, he told himself. This man would not hesitate to have you killed should you give him cause. Richard swallowed uneasily. "My Lord, his grace the king would like to invite both you and your daughter, the lady Cersei, to his nameday feast in a weeks' time," he hesitated at the next part, knowing full well that he would likely be damning the kingdoms. He took a breath. "He also would like you to know that he….accepts your proposition."
There was a slight twitch of the Lannister's mouth that Richard took for a smile which left not a moment later without warning, snuffed like a candle. He rose from his golden throne and examined the hall. "Get out," he told them. "I'll speak with Ser Richard alone now."
And they went; the few pompous Lannister cousins, the old Maester, and all of the guards. One after another they marched from the hall. Richard looked at Bryce and gave him a gesture. The boy looked as though he wanted to argue, but one glance from Tywin Lannister was enough to silence any misgivings he might have had. The doors closed behind him with a dull clang of gold on gold.
Tywin Lannister made a slow descent from his dais, each step echoing through the large empty room. Richard suddenly felt very powerless as the taller man approached. His eyes were hard and his mouth set into a frown. "King Rhaegar spoke of you in his letters, ser. He told me I could trust you." There was a slight sneer in the way he said the word 'trust' that put Richard on edge. "Since you have been travelling it is unlikely that you have heard, but there has been an assault upon the king's person."
The air went from Richard's lungs. "What?"
"A few days ago someone within the Red Keep attacked his grace whilst he was playing that harp of his." Lord Tywin's sounded slightly annoyed. "The attacker somehow managed slash at the King's throat before Ser Lewyn cut him down. Grand Maester Pycelle was able to stop all the blood from escaping his grace's royal throat and he is, to my knowledge resting in his chambers under heavy guard. Jon Connington continues to sit the throne in his stead and the court is none the wiser."
Gods be good, Richard ran a shaking hand through his hair. He suddenly needed a drink. "If I might ask, how do you know this then, my lord?"
"My son wrote to me the day it happened," Tywin told him with a deep frown. "He and Ser Arthur came upon the scene. It was Jaime himself who saw to the safety of the prince and princess. It is a most distressful time for them."
"Do they have any idea who it might have been?"
Tywin Lannister looked at Richard with his cold eyes. It seemed as if there was a whole winter in those eyes of his, and nothing else. "They found a vial on the dead man; it contained a small amount of a toxin that is derived from the venom of desert scorpions. I'm told that it is fast acting and that this man swallowed most of it before making his move against the king."
"Poison?" Richard frowned at the idea. "Surely you don't mean….."
"Aerys was a fool to marry Rhaegar to the girl in the first place and now that folly has cost his son." Lord Tywin turned to look out at the sea from one of the large windows. "I am certain that this is but the first of many such attempts; word has it that the Red Viper is on his way to the capitol as we speak."
Richard could certainly see Oberyn Martell trying to kill the king, yet something told him that it would have been a far more brazen attempt. And he would never send another to do his own dirty work. "Why would the Martells do such a thing?"
"Come now," Tywin seemed disappointed. "Let's not talk in games. Rhaegar has informed you of his plans with me and my daughter, why else send you here with his message and not some raven? Surely you knew the outrage it would have caused amongst the lessor houses?"
The knight swallowed uneasily. "But how would they even know? His Grace has been careful."
"There is obviously a traitor amongst the King's circle feeding information to the Queen or her brother. Ser Lewyn himself mayhaps." The Lannister's eyes grew narrow at the thought. "We'll need to leave for the capitol immediately."
Richard's eyes widened. "M-my lord? Would it not be more prudent to wait for the king's nameday?"
"No, the time for patience ended when the Martells made their move." Lord Tywin set his cold eyes upon Richard again. "We shall leave for the capitol tonight, and release the Dornish stranglehold in the court. And when that is done, Rhaegar shall wed my daughter."
Richard closed his eyes. Gods be good, I need a drink….