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Aufklarung
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Aaaaaaand posted. :3
Fairmarket
The festival had already lasted a fortnight, yet the smiling Catelyn Tully could see that it was far from over. The year's harvest had been bountiful, the fisherfolk had caught enough fish to feed for many weeks, and violence had been but a faint bother for much of the season, so the people of Fairmarket had much to celebrate. Many had come from the nearby villages too, bringing their own goods to sell and share.
The air was full of joyful shouting and cheering in many tongues, as well as music from all corners of the world. Riverlanders and Essosi alike had their place in the revelry, and though the eldest seemed rather reluctant to mingle with their strange neighbours, their children and grandchildren had no such qualms. Copper-skinned boys praised a passing knight's horse in Dothraki, while little Riverlander girls gasped in amazement as a red priest with YiTish features made his flames take the form of a dancing dragon.
As she climbed down from her carriage in her silver dress, the justiciar from Riverrun breathed in the fragrant air. The scent of the trees and the flowers blended with that of roasted meats, freshly baked pastries, spices and herbs. Her sight was dominated by bright colours, from the lush greens of the country to the blues, reds, purples and yellows of the goods being sold in the bustling market. For a brief moment, she almost forgot about the troubles of the world outside of this town, outside of the Riverlands.
Her arrival did not go unnoticed. As her feet touched the ground, The smallfolk gathering around the carriage stared at her and her small retinue with visible wonder. Those who had the presence of mind to do it attempted to bow, but she stopped them with a gentle motion of her hand and a widening of her smile. A freckled girl with a sheepish look in her big green eyes braved touching the hem of her dress, prompting an aghast look from her father. Catelyn giggled and offered her its sleeve to touch as well, then placed a single kiss on the back of the girl's hand.
The daughter of the Lord Paramount walked among the people of Fairmarket with the confidence of one who was among friends, even though she had only met a handful of them in the past. To each that she would walk past by she offered her smile and a nod, sometimes a kind word. A portly singer began to sing a song to her beauty, earning himself a couple of silver stags, while those who could not sing greeted her with simple words or blessings. Some spoke to her in the Common Tongue, while others spoke in Dothraki and the bastard Valyrian of the Bay of Dragons. She responded to all, offered her own blessing to them and their families, wished them even better harvests in the future and promised to devote herself to a lasting peace.
Valerys and Mylenos Maegyr, looking relaxed and handsome in their blue and red doublets, followed close behind, along with a dozen Tully knights, who came carrying bags full of food, clothing and healing herbs for the poor of the town. Fairmarket had grown large with the arrival of Daenerys Targaryen's Essosi, but not all of her people from across the sea had since found a livelihood. If her father hoped to maintain order and harmony, Catelyn knew that those people needed, at the very least, to be fed, clothed and housed. It was a patchwork solution to a deeper problem, as fragile as the coloured paper gliding through the breeze, but generations of continued misery were an invitation for violence, and the Riverlands had suffered enough brutality already.
Soon she reached in the heart of the town, flanked to her left by the pristine flowing waters of the Blue Fork, a mummers' boat floating close to the bank, and to her right by the improvised dais where the most prosperous families of Fairmarket sat. Standing atop a small raised platform, for a time she only gazed with her blue eyes upon the smallfolk, happy to witness their unbridled bliss. But then she raised her hand, and all of Fairmarket fell quiet, save for a few of the children.
As the bright summer sun made her red-brown hair shine bright, almost as if it had a light of its own, she spoke to the whole expectant crowd at last. Her voice was clear like the river that ran through the town, warm like a loving embrace, and each of her words sounded as true as the gods'.
"My good friends, it has been too long... far, far too long... away from your delightful company. Time and time again you have proven that none other can celebrate a great harvest like the fair people of Fairmarket."
She spoke with her arms spread, the light of day glittering on the silver of her dress, her words eliciting a long, rapturous cheer from the crowd. With an amused chuckle and a small flourish of her hand, they quieted, and she continued.
"Your pride as caretakers of this beautiful land is well-deserved, and I am proud to call all of you wonderful, hardworking people my fellow countrymen. Our kingdom has lost and sacrificed much, yet with your passion, your generosity, and your tireless labour we have recovered again and again. I can only aspire to some day have that same fortitude, and become worthy of the same admiration that I have for all of you."
Another cheer, just as loud and enthusiastic as the first one.
"I imagine many of you will have heard by now of the events that transpired in King's Landing. It would appear that dark, evil clouds loom over the Seven Kingdoms once again. Yet you can be assured that the men of the Riverlands fought bravely by the king's side against this foe. And you can be sure that House Tully stands ready to fulfill its duty to you, the great people of the Riverlands."
The third cheer came as more of a fierce roar than anything else, a patriotic cry. It had taken her father over two decades to cultivate that sentiment; that ardent, steadfast appreciation for House Tully's struggle to maintain order. But the fruits of his effort were now plain to see.
"Now let us jubilate over these generous gifts our land has given us, and honour the brave who perished in its name. Let us sing, and feast, and be joyous in each other's company. Let us trade, make friends and love one another. Cheers, my good friends, and praised be our kingdom!"
"PRAISED BE OUR KINGDOM!" Answered the people as dozens of hands raised their mugs, tankards and goblets, filled with mead and wine, to the skies. A few praised Catelyn herself instead, either by her name or by her nom de guerre. The Essosi had grown rather fond of the latter, and would call to the Dragonfish in their thickly accented Valyrian. The festival resumed in full, music cascading down the crowd from every corner. The mummers stepped down from their boat, already dressed in their elaborate costumes and ready to perform what looked like a delightful farce, with a black cloth dragon, a pair of hollow horses and what looked like a modest replica of the Iron Throne.
Catelyn stepped down from the platform and began to walk among the people, exchanging pleasantries with the people on the dais, complimenting the produce being sold in the stalls, and giving coin, toys and clothing to the children that swirled around her. All the while, Valerys and Mylenos stood beside her, visibly relaxed and content. The older of the Maegyr brothers chanced a touch of her pale hand, which she allowed with a discreet but loving look, her supple red lips giving him a small, lopsided smile.
Before long, the Tully lady and her Volantene companions were just another part of the day's merriment. Her nobility and their fame was acknowledged, but it did not keep them from losing themselves in the crowd, dancing to the songs of half a dozen bards and feeding on all manner of home-made foods while drinking the wine of Fairmarket's modest vineyards. Many approached her, young and old alike, some seeking a dance with her, while others spoke to her of likely trouble with bandits and quarrels between the families. Some Essosi complained of mistreatment, particularly from those closest to the local septons and septas, and pleaded for justice or sanctuary. The red priest, having tired of making sorcery to entertain the children, came to her with words of warning, saying that he had seen the shadows that had struck the capital spread into the Riverlands. She listened to all, dance with most who asked, and swore to help all those in need.
She caught Valerys looking at her with longing and admiration as she traversed through the festival, skillfully managing both duty with merrymaking, and she felt herself blush like a little girl. Even now, she sometimes failed to notice just how much Valerys and Mylenos adored her, and acting as justiciar had become so second nature to her that she barely even realized when she did it.
The warm summer sun moved slowly across the skies as the day of festivities carried on with only a few petty incidents. And as it set on the horizon, the light of torches and candles spread up and down the roads, and Catelyn Tully found herself sighing happily in Mylenos' embrace, beneath a tall oak tree, surrounded by the dancing and feasting crowd. At some point, Valerys had joined the mummers in a lively recitation of humorous poetry, drawing much laughter from the audience.
"You seem quite pleased," said Mylenos, his thickly accented voice a whisper against her ear. She grinned and, as she looked at him, her blue eyes shone like a starlit sea.
"I am pleased. Fairmarket always lifts my spirits. When I was a child, I sometimes dreamed of living here, in one of these small houses. I wanted to grow massive pumpkins and raise cows." She answered, half-lying and leaving much unsaid.
She did care for this town, but her motive for coming had not been leisure. In truth, she had feared that the news from King's Landing would cause a holy panic, and that she would find the town ablaze, or its Essosi inhabitants slaughtered. She had feared that the forces behind the attack on the Red Keep would make themselves present in some form somewhere in the Riverlands. Whenever there was a spark in King's Landing, the Riverlands always burned first. For that reason, she had chosen to tour the region as soon as she returned from the capital, leaving her deeply troubled father in Riverrun. She needed to assess the state of affairs and do her part in preserving order.
Her mind juggled every problem she had heard of during the day, and she considered other possible problems that could arise from them. She calculated how many knights and foot soldiers she would need to find and capture nearby outlaws, questioned which laws the local septons and faithful might have broken in their mistreatment of the Essosi, and tried to envision the placing of new defenses against invasions from the south. She quickly lost herself in those thoughts, only vaguely aware of Valerys' recitations or Mylenos' warmth.
A kiss on her lips broke from from her reverie, and she pulled back from it with a subtle scolding look. The younger of the Maegyr bastards chuckled.
"My apologies, lady Tully, but you seemed rather distracted," said Mylenos, his hand resting on hers. "And besides, this is a harvest festival. I doubt anyone here will care if they see a noble lady kissing her known friend."
"Be that as it may, dear Mylenos, you are meant to ask for my permission before kissing me," she retorted, half-jesting by the sound of it. Her squeezing his hand appeared to confirm that, before she stood up and offered him her arm. "Now, take me to the dais. I have matters to discuss with the families."
Mylenos gave her a small bow and guided her towards them, passing through the still lively crowd. Valerys had finished reciting, and many blushing young girls rushed to congratulate him, prompting him to blush in return and offer a few words of thanks. Even now, after performing before them, her beloved knight from Volantis could be remarkably shy and quiet.
The three reunited on the dais, and they sat side by side at a table filled with delicious-looking food. Before them sat one of the elders, a plump and lovely woman who the town's inhabitants called Jeyne Goldheart, who greeted them with a broad, sincere smile and a few bows. Beside her sat a slightly younger man with copper-toned skin, dark almond eyes and a long braid of greying black hair. Jeyne Goldheart, rather famously, had been one of the first women in the Riverlands to wed one of Daenerys Targaryen's Dothraki. Catelyn had heard that, to this very day, the town's septon often threatened to annul their marriage, citing concerns about the tainting of Fairmarket's spiritual purity before the Seven.
"Milady, we are so grateful for your visit," said Jeyne Goldheart. "I hope you will stay with us through the night?"
"Nothing would please me more," said Catelyn. "Were it not for my duties, I might never leave."
"That is very kind of you, milady," said the older woman, and the look in her eyes suddenly changed. "Even here, troubles exist, but my beloved Qano keeps the family safe, and his horses are the pride of Fairmarket."
Catelyn nodded.
"I will be sure to tell the Lord Paramount as much," she said. "House Tully is always looking for better mounts."
Jeyne Goldheart's look turned meaningful. She had never been a talented concealer of truth, yet Catelyn did not think less of her for it. She was a virtuous woman and a good influence on her neighbours. Probably a far better influence than the town's septon, who currently sat not too far away, looking like he was trying quite hard not to show his offense at the way his people celebrated.
"If I may say so, milady, Qano and I worry," said Jeyne, leaning forward, her grey-streaked hair forming a curtain around her face as she glanced at the septon. "Septon Hendry has grown rather quiet as of late. When beasts or bandits attacked, he used to cry about the infidels and heretics in our midst, but now he says nothing of the sort. We hear much talk from travellers about sparrows in the woods, with knights among them. Our families agreed to sell some of the spare wheat, because coin is scarce, but then the Black Lads warned us that trading boats have been disappearing..."
"And my people are disappearing too," Qano suddenly interjected, folding his still muscled arms on his chest. His voice was a low growl, with that harsh accent of the Dothraki. "A family of the lamb men... Lazharene... their farm was far from town, to the north. It was burned. It has happened before."
"Yes, many of the more distant farms have been burned," said Jeyne. "Essosi families, all of them. That family in particular, though..."
She looked at the other elders on the dais, making sure they were not listening in, and then she carried on, her voice feather soft.
"Their son was sweet on a Westerosi boy. When his family heard of it, the Westerosi boy was given to a monastery between here and Oldstones. Full of sparrows and orphans, that place is. Makes the least pious amongst us quite uncomfortable."
Catelyn gave her a pensive look. "I have heard whispers of that monastery."
She did not say more, although she could have. Individually, the whispers said little, yet as a whole they implied much.
"Many farmers do not know the Lazharene and the Dothraki are not the same, and septons and lords call the Dothraki infidel rapers and savages," continued Qano. "They say we come to defile and steal their children. And these sparrows of theirs hear that, and beat our peoples with their clubs for it."
Catelyn said nothing and did nothing. She just listened, her expression unchanging, until they both finished talking, and then she nodded.
"I will speak to my brother," she said at last, and she looked at them with intense, sincere commitment. "Gods willing, he will find that family and take them to safety, and then bring those responsible to me, so that I may judge them. I won't allow the scourge of outlaws to harry this town or its people... and that includes the Dothraki and the Lazharene."
"Thank you, milady," said Jeyne, and there was much genuine gratitude on her wrinkled face. Jeyne Goldheart had learned to trust the young Tully lady and her justice, as had all of Fairmarket. Many outlaws had hanged from the town's gallows because of her, and many slighted or injured folk had received generous restitution through her judgement.
Catelyn nodded, then moved on to the other elders. Each had their tales, boasts and grievances, and she listened to all. Catelyn performed as she had learned to many years ago, all the while adding what Jeyne Goldheart had told her to the cacophony of juggling thoughts in her mind. Soon enough, the older woman's words reigned supreme.
However, the young lady from Riverrun would not end the night without indulging for one last time in the festivities. Trusting the combination of darkness and the still large crowd to keep her indiscretions hidden from unwanted gazes, she shared her last dance, and a long kiss, with Valerys, while Mylenos sung sweetly about love alongside the bards.
"What awaits us tomorrow, my lady?" Asked Valerys as their lips parted, the red in his eyes almost imperceptible in the darkness. The words sounded so foreign, so distant, coming from his lips. She yearned to hear him speak freely once they were alone.
"A short detour to Oldstones, to get a better understanding of matters, and then the journey home," she lied, and kissed him once again, her pale hands tangled in his long silver hair.
Blue Fork
Time had taken its toll on their skin, but Catelyn had no doubts about who the bodies hanging from the large oak tree belonged to. They had found the Lazharene family, as well as the Westerosi boy, his brown robes in tatters and stained with dried blood.
On the other side of the river, another farm burned, and Catelyn suspected that soon she would find more hanging bodies. The morning air was thick with smoke, and its stench permeated all. The looming rain could not come soon enough.
The justiciar's retinue approached the oak tree slowly, though not out of caution. Whoever had committed this atrocity was long gone and, if Catelyn feared the dead, she hid it well.
Her knights cut the bodies down while her and the Maegyr bastards watched. The mother and daughters had barely been touched, but the father, the son and the Westerosi had been beaten and mutilated. The two young lovers had likely been raped, she suspected. All of them, young and old, had a seven pointed star crudely carved on their foreheads. Even now, the agony and horror of their last moments was plain to see on their faces.
"Please, bury them properly, and pray for the boy," she said to the knights without taking her eyes off the bodies. She stood stiff, her fingers interwined with one another. "Mylenos... would you sing the family a song from their land as we put them to rest?"
Mylenos gave a tremulous sigh. Catelyn did not look, but she could imagine tears in his pretty red eyes, and it added to her pain.
"Forgive me, Cat," said Mylenos. "I don't know any Lazharene songs or prayers."
"They deserve better than silence," she explained coldly, although she was brimming with grief and fury underneath. "And I will not bury them with a prayer from this land. Any song, any words will do, so long as they are not from the Seven-Pointed Star."
Mylenos sighed again, but now there was no trembling, and when he sang, he did so as perfectly as he had the night before. It was a Braavosi song, one which spoke about freedom and death. It was melancholy, yet undeniably touching. It would do.
The Tully knights did the best they could burying the bodies, carefully placing them in individual graves, and said their prayers for the Westerosi boy. Catelyn contemplated them in silence and, once they finished, she climbed back into her carriage.
Valerys followed her, and spoke to her through the window.
"Cat, did you know?" He asked. "Did you make us go to Oldstones knowing we would find them on the way?"
His eyes were troubled, and she knew as she gazed into them that it was not just about the family and the boy. He was afraid of her answer.
Catelyn did not hesitate.
"No," she said, and she was telling the truth. She had suspected it, feared it even, but she had not known. "How could I have known?"
Valerys nodded, reassured.
"So why are we going to Oldstones, then?"
"We aren't," she said, placing her hand on the window's frame. He held it, almost as if by instinct. "Not yet. First, we are going to the boy's monastery."
"Why?"
"The Elder Brother there might have seen or heard something of import," she lied, reaching for his face with her free hand and caressing his cheek. "Maybe he can help point me in the direction of those responsible, and then I can tell Sylvester and his men where to go."
"Alright," said Valerys, nuzzling into her touch. "But we'll have to be careful on the road, Cat."
"I have you to protect me, my brave Valerys," she said, her voice warm and honey-sweet, smiling gently at him. "Could you ask Mylenos to come sit with me? The smoke has made me feel a bit ill, and I could use some of his herbal water."
Monastery near Oldstones
Some stories told that the monastery had once been a prosperous septry with dozens of brothers tending to it. Then the brotherhood without banners, worshippers of the Red God, had come and put most of the brothers to the sword. Then they had set the septry aflame, completing their foul deed.
The truth, according to the more reputable sources, was that the brotherhood had come in the defense of the brothers against the infamous Bloody Mummers.
Catelyn did not particularly care either way, but there was no denying that something terrible had indeed happened there. Much of the monastery was comprised of the ruins of the old septry, slowly being consumed by the growing forest.
The dozens of inhabitants of the monastery were of different ages and shapes, but most seemed rather meek at first glance. Many among them were clearly sparrows, while others had the look of orphans. It did not escape Catelyn's notice that a large number of the orphans appeared Essosi and miserable. She also saw a handful of strong-looking men, who she would have confused for anointed knights had it not been for their modest clothes and lack of weapons.
Valerys gave her a slightly nervous look as she climbed down from her carriage and made her way across the courtyard of sorts, a box held in her hands. She, on the other hand, kept a placid expression on her face and walked gracefully on the short grass and broken cobblestones. Halfway to the entrance of the monastery, a middle-aged septon stepped out. He was tall, broad of shoulders and with a thick beard. Some women, other than Catelyn, might have found him handsome.
"My lady, you bless us with your noble presence," he said with the booming voice of someone making a holy proclaimation, and kneeled before her.
"Please, arise, your holiness," she said, touching his shoulder as she came to stand before him. "May the Seven bless you."
"And you, my lady," answered the septon as he rose to his feet. "I am Septon Donnel. What does the daughter of our faithful Lord Paramount want with our humble flock?"
"Only a moment of your time, your holiness," said Catelyn. Valerys, Mylenos and her knights watched from afar. "There has been a terrible incident, and I may need your help bringing the Father's justice to the guilty. May we speak inside?"
"You bring troubling words with you, my lady, but I shall be happy to assist you," he said, and guided her into the monastery with a wave of his hand.
The inside was rather dark, the narrow windows allowing only slivers of light to enter, but they made their way through the corridors without any trouble. Within a moment, Catelyn and Septon Donnel were in his study. The windows within were somewhat bigger, and their light was complimented by candlelight. Birds chirped outside, and beneath she heard the rustling of the wind in the trees, and the first rumbling of the incoming rain.
They took a seat on either side of a small wooden table, on which she set the box, and for a moment the two only looked at one another. A young septa and a sparrow walked in, exchanged a few brief words with the septon, and left. And the silence reigned once more for a bit.
Catelyn finally talked as the first raindrops fell outside.
"I am sorry, your holiness, to bring such terrible things to this place," she said, and she sounded truly contrite, before placing the tips of her fingers on the top of the box. "Which is why I brought you some gifts, for you and your flock."
"There is no need, my lady..."
"I insist," she interrupted as she opened it, revealing a bottle of wine, vials of medicine and jars of herbs. "I am unsure as to whether you allow yourself to drink wine, so I also brought some goods from Riverrun's maester. I imagine you might have great need of such in these troubled times."
The septon smiled.
"I do indulge myself in small pleasures at times, my lady. I accept your gifts gratefully."
"Good," she said, smiling, and stood as she lifted the bottle from the box. "It is made by a group of families outside of Riverrun. They came from across the Narrow Sea, with the skill to make wonderful wine, but lacked the resources for their own vineyard. Fortunately, my lord father understood, as I do, that people who can do good deserve the tools to do so..."
She uncorked the bottle with some small effort, giggling, and reached for a goblet lying empty on another table. Then she carefully, methodically, poured some of that fragrant red wine into the goblet and raised it to her nose, taking in its sweet aroma. And then, finally, she placed it before the septon with a satisfied smile.
"So the two of us agreed to give the families some land, in perpetuity," she said, sitting down once again, "so they could share their talents with the people of the Riverlands."
"Quite generous," said Septon Donnel as he grasped the goblet and raised it to his lips, and he smiled too as he sniffed it. "And wise. It smells delectable."
He suddenly gave her a mildly puzzled look.
"Are you not drinking it, Lady Tully?"
She gave him a cordial nod.
"I fear I may become ill if I do," she answered, her blue eyes looking absolutely distraught. "I have a weak stomach, and the road does not sit well with me, even after all these years."
The older man gave her a sympathetic look, before taking a small sip.
"Pity," he said, licking his lips. "It is quite good."
Catelyn smile broadly. "I am pleased to hear it."
He took another sip, longer this time, before setting the goblet down.
"So... my lady... what is this incident that brought you here?" The septon asked, lying back on his chair.
"A terrible, gruesome crime, I'm afraid," she said, face distraught again, hands lying on her lap like a dead weight. "One of the boys in your charge was murdered, along with an innocent family."
"You found Alyn?" Asked the septon, looking truly concerned. "Poor lad disappeared into the night not a fortnight ago. He was rebellious from the day he arrived, tried to escape back to Oldstones over and over."
"I see," she said, eyes downcast, and was silent for a moment. "He was brutally attacked, then hanged. As was the family. Seven-pointed stars were carved on their foreheads."
"Poor souls," he said, taking another drink from the goblet. "Who were they?"
"Did you not hear of them, your holiness?" Asked Catelyn. "An Essosi family. They owned a farm north of Fairmarket. It would appear young Alyn had developed a fondness for the family's son, which did not please Alyn's family."
"Hmm," said the septon, cradling the goblet in his large hands. "I knew, from his father, that the boy had been corrupted and seduced into committing a grave, shameful sin of the flesh... Sodomy, my lady. But I knew nothing of an Essosi boy..."
He took a sip, and looked thoughtfully into his goblet.
"Not that I'm surprised. The Essosi don't know the true gods from the false, and we all know of all their sinful customs. They are an exceedingly lecherous race, and specially the Dothraki. Rapers and enslavers of women, to hear others tell it, and I imagine some among them would be wont to defile our innocent boys as well."
"The family were not Dothraki, however," said Catelyn, and now her blue eyes were coldly staring intently at the man's face. "They were Lazharene, a notoriously meek and peaceful people. Although I can understand why someone with an ignorant, untrained eye would have a hard time telling the difference."
Septon Donnel started, his goblet nearly tipping over, and looked at her with wide, sincerely shocked eyes.
"I... had never heard..." He began to say, but Catelyn interrupted him.
"You had never heard of the Lazharene before," she said, and her voice was cool, unsheathed steel. "Yet you thought yourself fit to blame the boy for his own murder, and that of his whole family. I imagine the man who gave the order to burn the family's farm and hang them from an oak tree had the exact same midjudged sense of their own wisdom."
Then she smiled.
"It was an honest mistake, your holiness," she continued, hand pulling the box a few inches towards her and closing its lid. "You are not a maester and you clearly lack the curiosity to do more than pass swift judgement and indulge in your righteous disdain for those vile savages from across the sea."
The septon opened his mouth to speak, but only muttering came from it. Catelyn paid no heed to him.
"I wonder," she said as she placed the box in her lap, her fingers stroking its smooth surface. "How detached would you have to be, how little sympathy for your fellow man would you need to have, to order the deaths of strangers for the terrible sin of praying to the wrong name?"
She looked at the box, a leaping trout carved on its lid, and the tip of her finger felt the scales and fins.
"And how cowardly would you have to be, to do it all from afar, and never face the consequences? The rotting bodies and the charred ruins..."
She raised her eyes to the unspeaking septon, and she sounded regretful again.
"Forgive me, your holiness," she said. "I have disturbed you."
The man drank again from his goblet and said nothing for a time. He was slowly collecting himself, finding his footing in this conversation. When he found it, he spoke with a quieter voice than before, but it did not falter.
"It is quite alright, my lady," he said with in most perfunctory of tones, trying and failing to imbue the words with sincerity. "And I do apologize for my unkind, ignorant words. But I have no help to offer, I'm afraid. As I said, I knew nothing of the Lazharene boy or his family..."
"Actually, your holiness, you might help me a great deal," Catelyn interrupted him, and she smiled. "You see, I am a woman of the Faith. As such, it would pain me a great deal to sentence holy people to death for this crime, specially when I might find cause for mercy."
There was fear in Septon Donnel's eyes, even as his face feigned offense.
"Are you accusing me, my lady?" He asked, and even his voice could not conceal the fear beneath the false outrage. "Of hanging a boy and an innocent family?"
"Of course not, your holiness," she answered, perfectly still and unflinching. "I would not make a formal accusation against a septon without any proof. I am just thinking aloud..."
She trailed off for a moment, watching his expression, but then she spoke.
"I'm wondering whether you are single-handedly leading this butchery, or if you have peers and leaders elsewhere. I'm wondering if my father's bannermen are giving you coin and weapons, and if you have friends among the Most Devout. I am wondering if there are anointed knights in your midst, and if you have made allies with other groups."
She stood, placing the box on her chair.
"I'm wondering if the orphans you raise in this monastery were orphaned by your command, so that you could raise them free from their ancestors' savage customs and false gods. I am wondering how many crimes you have committed, and how many crimes that I blamed on others were in fact yours. And I am wondering, above all else, whether all of that might be written down somewhere."
"Lady Tully," Septon Donnel said. "I am offended by this slanderous talk."
"It is only talk, your holiness. Idle speculation. I mean nothing by it, and I do apologize if it offends you."
The corner of her mouth moved slightly, but then she was utterly expressionless, except for her eyes. Her blue eyes bore into him with intensity.
"Of course, should there be any truth to my speculations, I would very much prefer it if you divulged it yourself, your holiness."
The older man matched her look with a stiff, unemotional one of his own.
"I have nothing to divulge, my lady."
She quietly stared, and his look began to quiver. A corner of his mouth moved impatiently.
"Well then, your holiness", she said. "Allow me to divulge something myself. A story... or rather an accurate telling of a singular moment in my pursuit of the Father's justice."
He gave no response, save for a slight pursing of his lips. She nodded, satisfied, and gave him the smallest of smiles before she started.
"I once sat at a table with a septon, much like I was sitting with you now, and spoke to him in very kind and friendly terms over a few cups of honeyed wine. I had served as my father's justiciar for almost a year, and I was quite young but not too naive or unwise. I knew the law, I knew history, and I knew my homeland and its people well enough to do my duty. By then I had tried and sentenced over a dozen people, common and noble born alike. Some had hanged or lost their heads or taken the black, while others had redeemed themselves with good labor or some time spent in a cell. I did not enjoy the sentencing, but I was proud of helping to bring just a little bit of peace to my fellow Riverlanders. I was aware that sometimes injustices remained impune, yet I believed that I had the understanding to never have to face such things myself.
"I was entirely wrong, your holiness. You see, it had never ocurred to me, until I sat with that septon, that the law and what is just are not always one and the same, specially in the eyes of one who believes in laws higher than those of man. And such was the case with this septon. He was utterly convinced that he could not ever be guilty of any crime that was not condemned by the gods, or at least that he believed to not be condemned by the gods. He thought there was no crime in hiding a fugitive from me, a young anointed knight whose men had murdered, raped and pillaged their way through a small community of Riverlanders who worshipped R'hllor. He believed that, as a woman of the Faith, I owed the knight and his men a lordly pardon, and that their surviving victims could only find respite if they embraced the Seven-Pointed Star. The fact that the knight was his kinsman probably also had some influence in his stance, I imagine.
"Now, the septon would not admit that he was giving the knight sanctuary and, even if he had, I would not have been able to do anything. It would have been unseemly, specially of the Lord Paramount's daughter, to break into a septry and drag out a man who had sought the Mother's mercy and protection. Though I was very young, I knew better.
"So, what could I do? Negociate? Offer a lenient sentence? Promise to give the knight and his men the benefit of the doubt in their trials? And besides, what evidence did I have of their crimes? The word of a few Riverlanders who had turned their backs on the true gods to worship a fiery demon from abroad?"
She shook her head.
"There was only one thing I, the justiciar of Riverrun, could do: I promised that I would pardon the knight if he came forward. I promised it in writing, and gave my written word to the septon, so that he could deliver it to the knight.
"The knight did come forward a few days later, comforted by the Seven's forgiveness, delivered to him by his septon kinsman, and my own. He rode with my retinue back to Riverrun, pledged himself and his sword to my service in gratitude for my mercy, and his kinsman blessed me and my house for seeing through the lies of the infidels and standing on the side of the anointed knight.
"And all the while, I lied better than I ever had before. I went against my own house's words and forsook honor in the name of my duty as a harbinger of justice, order and peace. As the two enjoyed their supposed impunity, I learned and prepared. The septon might have broken no law, and the knight might have been pardoned, but they were both still guilty and their victims were still waiting for restitution.
"Nevertheless, you might be pleased to hear that the septon yet lives, albeit not happily. After all, as you might be well aware, the Faith does not look kindly upon debauchery. And when a child with the septon's features appeared in Riverrun, accompanied by his outspoken mother, his peers were not very forgiving. Of course, I was not about to punish a man for something as superfluous as a bit of fornication, so I left his trial and punishment solely in the hands of the Faith.
"As for the good knight, he was truly a devoted man, but he too had his flaws, his little sins. One of them was wine. He was quite fond of it, almost excessively so, and it soon proved his undoing. One night he rode out of Riverrun alone, drunk and in full armor, and fell into the Trident."
She paused and looked down at her own hands.
"Maybe it was the Father's justice. Perhaps, when the laws of man fail, he intercedes in such seemingly fortuitous ways."
She then raised her eyes towards the septon.
"I would like to think, however, that I played a part in his retribution, however small it might have been. Because I care about justice a great deal, your holiness, and I cannot suffer rank impunity. I cannot tolerate the sight of people walking away from the smoking ruins they leave behind, knowing that they will never have to tread upon the ashes and choke on the thick black smoke of their crimes like the rest of us. I am tasked with cleaning the blood spilled by others, and yet sometimes my lawful tools fail me. And in those times, I am presented with a choice, and I choose the same path every time... Justice, your holiness."
The septon's eyes took on the unmistakable the look of a sudden, terrible realization.
"Am I being threatened for a crime I did not commit?" He almost growled.
"Threatening you would be superfluous at this point, Septon Donnel," said Catelyn. "After all, you just drank poisoned wine."
The horror in the man's eyes grew, the colour instantly drained from his face, and all pretenses crumbled at last.
"You... cunt!" He openly growled, his body shaking. "How murderous fucking cunt!"
"I would speak more gently," she interrupted him, "to the lady who has the antidote."
He quieted at once, though his body still trembled.
"A family and a young boy, murdered," said Catelyn, standing tall before him with the look in the eyes of someone who could recite a thousand memories as if they were poetry. "Many nearby farms burned to the ground. Worshippers of foreign gods living in fear. The nobility blames some band of outlaws or other, fills my ears with tales of rebels out to overthrow my lord father. The common folk glance at their septons and septas as they allude to terrible beasts and witches. None but the faintest of whispers even dare suggest that it could be the most sacred, most trusted of our institutions that are inflicting these horrors upon our land."
She reached for the bottle's neck, and carefully placed the cork back inside, her pale hands moving with lady-like grace.
"You have a reputation, Septon Donnel, and it is quite the sterling one," she continued as her fingers slid down the dark glass of the bottle. "You were but a lad when the High Sparrow perished, yet you carried on his holy work from this little, ruined corner of the world. The most devout among the common folk soon came to praise you for feeding the hungry and raising Essosi children under the true faith. Many speak fondly of your sparrows' diligence in punishing infidels and heretics, and ridding our land of its whores and sodomites."
"My flock is made of good men," he spoke up, sounding almost breathless. "We only seek to do good and fulfill the gods' will. We would never hurt the innocent. There is no cruelty to what we do, only necessity."
"It is not my place to tell men and women of the Faith what they can believe, your holiness," she said, "but it is my place, and my lord father's, to judge and sentence those who commit a crime. You and your flock appear to have forgotten this, and granted yourselves unearned power over the people living under my lord father's protection."
Her stance and expression suddenly softened.
"Yet I am always glad to show proper leniency, for what is the Father's justice without the Mother's mercy?" She said, smiling tenderly. "If you answer my questions now, and come with me to Riverrun to serve my lord father's peace, I will give you the antidote and personally ensure that your life and those of the most innocent among your flock are spared. Not all crimes are worthy of the gallows, least of all when the culprit may yet redeem himself and right his wrongs."
"And if I refuse," he asked, "you will just let the poison kill me? My sparrows will know it was murder."
She muffled a small chuckle. "And what will they do then? Kill the daughter of a Lord Paramount? That would gain them the attention of all the Seven Kingdoms. Your deeds would come to light in every corner of this land, and your work would soon be undone by the retaliation of the nobility. I imagine many among the common folk would swiftly turn against you and your peers as well."
Defeat showed in his older features.
"Now... speak. Who murdered Alyn and the Lazharene family?"
He hesitated at first, but a look at the bottle seemed to remind him of the risk in refusing.
"My sparrows. A few knights helped."
She raised a fine eyebrow.
"And who gave the order?"
The septon gulped loudly.
"I did, my lady, but only because..."
"I promised you mercy, did I not?" She said, stopping him. "You need not worry, so long as you are truthful."
He nodded meekly.
"Now," she said. "Did Alyn's parents know of your plans?"
He nodded.
"Is Septon Hendry of Fairmarket an ally of yours? Is that why he has ceased to complain about the presence of foreigners in his own flock? Because you help rid him of that presence?"
He nodded.
"Are the orphans the children of your victims?"
He nodded.
"Do you have the names of the knights, and all of your allies, in writing?"
"No," he said, "but I have letters."
He pointed at a stack of books and scrolls on a table to her left. She walked to it without taking her eyes off of him, and gave the writings a cursory glance. She smiled as she saw that he had been honest and took a handful of those letters, hiding them in her dress.
"Thank you for your sincerity, your holiness," she said as she walked back to the table and picked up the bottle, placing it back inside the box. "True to my word, I will show you and your sparrows mercy for your crimes. You do not have long, though, so I would hasten my pace and join my retinue immediately before the poison claims you."
Holding the box against her side with one arm, Catelyn made a gesture towards the door with the other, and walked away from him. She did not glance back, seemingly lacking any doubt that he would follow.
The young justiciar of Riverrun left the study with swift but graceful steps, and within moments she was nearing the door that would lead her out of the monastery and into the courtyard. Around her, she could hear the rain begin to fall in earnest before the saw it, and listened to the septon marching close behind her with barely restrained desperation.
The raindrops felt soothing as she passed through the threshold, and there was something pleasant about the sight of the green of this improvised graden being darkened by the water soaking the leaves and wood. At the end of the path she saw that her beloved Maegyrs awaited impatiently. She also felt the eyes of the sparrows and orphans and disguised knights on her and her secret hostage, and for a small instant she feared they would attempt to seize or kill her, but that attempt never came. If they suspected something, they did not show it, even as Septon Donnel informed them with brief shouts that he would depart with the Tully lady and assist her in her search for justice.
Mylenos was the first to come to her as she neared her retinue, and together they led the septon to an open carriage behind hers, the one on which they had brought most of her gifts for Fairmarket. Not a word was exchanged between the two lovers as the holy man sat atop the carriage and stared at Catelyn.
"You will get my mercy once we leave, your holiness," she told him as one of her knights handed the septon a thick cloak to cover himself with. "When it's proper, I will summon you to my carriage."
With that, she climbed onto her carriage, her red-brown hair wet to its roots, and Mylenos followed her, sitting across from her with the look of someone intrigued but eager.
To the sound of the horses beginning their trot down the road, he began to speak.
"What did you do, Cat?" His red eyes shifted from the wooden box to her comely face, and lost themselves in the latter as she smiled at him.
"Oh, my wonderful Mylenos," she said, her fingers holding his chin, thumb caressing his lower lip. "With your help, I may yet be able to expose these sparrows and their leaders to the whole realm."
A curious look came to Mylenos' face. "You did not actually poison this man, however... did you?"
"No, I did not poison the wine, my love," she answered, pulling him in for a chaste kiss. "He will drink the poison willingly."
His eyes gained the spark of understanding then. "But he does not know... and you will make him drink the poison thinking that it's an antidote."
She nodded, and they gazed into each other's eyes for a time. She saw that he was somewhat awed, yet disturbed, and pulled him in for a kiss.
"Are you certain that the poison will be slow?" She asked as they parted.
"Slow and discreet," he said. "He will have a fever, difficulty breathing, and die within four or five days. To everyone, it will look like an unexpected and terrible disease."
Catelyn closed her eyes and sighed, and shook her head slightly.
"I suppose it is too late for self-doubt," she said in a whisper, "but then again, I did just do what I, of all people, should not do."
"I used to think I would see the faces of those I poisoned until the day I died," said Mylenos, taking ahold of her hand and pressing it against his lips, "but I have forgotten most of them, and those that I remember certainly deserved it. I broke no gods' laws in doing what I did, and neither will you. Why would it be sinful and regrettable to take the life of a murderer, simply because he is a holy murderer?"
The daughter of the Lord Paramount sighed again, but this time she smiled and nodded to herself.
"I must speak to Sylvester when we reach Riverrun," she said, lying back on her cushioned seat. "He needs to hunt down every single one of these sparrows. And then he must go to Fairmarket and capture Septon Hendry. I'll let Lord Mudd deal with the family of the Oldstones boy."
She looked out the carriage's window, and saw the rain fall on the Blue Fork, disturbing the waters. Far away, the last embers of the burning farm died, leaving only their memory in the form of small puffs of black and grey smoke.
"The day of the royal wedding, I thought to myself that I was living in the beginning of a golden age. For a small, flickering instant, I was certain that my work was almost done, that soon I would wake up and see the Riverlands at peace, along with the rest of Westeros. I dared to dream that, soon, it would be me walking into that great sept dressed like a bride, knowing that all I had left to do was live happily with my family, and nothing else."
She turned to Mylenos, and he saw that the blue in her eyes had dimmed.
"But now I fear that there is something afoul, something terrible lurking beneath us all at this moment. Monsters rise from the sea, outlaws ravage our lands, our septons butcher whole families..."
Mylenos shut her up with a sudden, fierce kiss, pulling her body towards his, and she mewled. They held each other until the sun set, and the face of Septon Donnel began to fade from the mind of Catelyn Tully, if only for a while.
@Abefroeman Arianne eventually, I think?
@BigPapaBelial Right.
A couple of quick questions before I start writing: Is there anything going on in the Riverlands involving other PCs? And does House Tully have a seat in the Small Council?
I'm going to be reading through the whole IC, but just in case.
I'm going to be reading through the whole IC, but just in case.
@AtomicNut See, this is why the White Walkers should have won. :P
@Celeste Great sheet. Approved.
Just keep in mind that dragonglass would be too brittle to be effective as a sword. Daggers would be better for sidearms to go with an actual sword. And for now we can keep Sylvester's powers limited to light druidic stuff, nothing super overt like outright warging or green-dreams, as you seem to need the blood for that. But some ability to influence animals perhaps. Y'know, RPG Ranger stuff.
Agreed on everything.
I'll give a first Tully IC post a shot over the weekend.
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