Gerold II

The past few months have been good for house Grafton. Its treasury grew by leaps and bounds and despite Littlefinger’s incessant advice to invest it, the money kept piling in. The people he loved and served, who suffered and starved through the siege, forced him to surrender – like a coward - He bitterly recalled. He was happy they got food in their bellies and a clay roof above their heads. The harbour was bursting, and the goods from distant lands of Essos flowed right through Gulltown.

And it was all thanks to that one man. By all rights, he should’ve been more grateful to him. After all, who doesn’t want a vault filled to the brim with golden dragons? However, as he saw through his balcony something deep inside him started to crawl out. Fear. Fear at what he saw. Fear of seeing thousands of red-coated soldiers marching through his streets.

At first, he thought he was going to be ousted. He thought his people blamed him for his father’s mistake and decided to get rid of him. But what happened next both confused and relieved him. The red mob was marching towards the Falcon castle.

He sent runners to and fro to keep abreast of the situation. What they reported enraged him. Petyr was the one who organised this mob. In less than a day. Practically, in a blink of an eye.

Now his Fear was directed at someone. Someone he considered a friend. Someone he could trust. Yet for the first time the warnings Stephas has given him were coming to light. His maester has warned him about his previous history with the Tullys. Both speculated the real reason why he was banished from Riverrun. Some were outlandish, like Petyr raping one of Hoster’s daughters. Some were, unfortunately, coming true. Like Petyr amassing too much power causing Tully’s influence to be undermined.

At first, Gerold dismissed these reasons. They were nothing but hearsay and the letters he received from Lord Hoster, tell of Petyr as being a polite and intelligent young man. The man fostered him, so surely the things he said about Petyr were reliable.

No. Petyr must’ve done something to the Tully patriarch. Blackmail perhaps? After months of seeing Petyr juggling interest and cajoling out support, it wouldn’t surprise him if Petyr has a black mark on the Tully patriarch.

Nevertheless, he saw the signs too late. What Petyr committed was treason. He broke the King’s Peace and ordered the storming of the Falcon Castle. Though he’ll argue there was no violence in the first place as the castle was dead empty. But good luck to him using that defence against vengeful nobles. Nobles that will probably put my head in a spike before his. Now that I’ve aligned with him.

He had no choice. Petyr was now the dominant force of Gulltown, and his interests conveniently lined with House Grafton. Littlefinger’s downfall will lead to his downfall.

It was frightening how such a minor noble could’ve intertwined itself into a more reputable and prestigious house like a parasite. Perhaps, that’s why House Tully banished him.

This flared his growing paranoia. “Wait! Petyr come back! What the hell do you mean!?” His temper burst out and signalled for the guards to apprehend him. To his utter surprise, the guards hesitated. His own guards. People that should’ve been loyal to him. How much has Petyr infiltrated his household? Does Stephas listen to him? Does Oldman Rydan listen to him?

Petyr turned back and entered his solar. He no longer smiled but remained stoic. “May I sit, my lord?”

Gerold nodded and waved him to carry on. “I’ve got a huge dream. A vision, as Rydan would say. A society with no starvation and no suffering of any kind. A society where hard work and effort would guarantee your success. Unfortunately, for many people – no matter how much they work hard by toiling the field or plying their trade, success may never grace them. Gulltown will be the first to witness my dream, my vision.” Petyr looked out of the window. “Do you know how much I sagged in relief when you said you shared my dream?”

Petyr looked so sincere when he said that which gave Gerold some pause. “It’s a noble endeavour. It’s the right thing to do and relates to one of your lectures. Something to do about progress leading to more progress hence prosperity. A multiplier effect.”

“Yes. If more people realised there’s more to life than living in abject poverty, then the amount of brainpower in society increases at a rapid rate. More people would demand for more which increases innovation. Drives economic growth hence prosperity.”

“Close enough. So, do you have more plans? Do they all eventually involve you taking over Gulltown? Killing me?”

Petyr got up from his seat as he heaved and took a huge breath. “Is this what you think I’m doing?” He clenched his fist before calming and sitting back down. “The work I’ve been doing for the past months. Did you think I was planning your death? To take your birth right?”

“You certainly have the ability right now. My 250 knights can’t hope of defeating your army.”

“You know damn well that our paths are interlinked.” Petyr blinked aggressively and ground his teeth. “Do you trust Rydan?”

Gerold hesitated at this. Rydan was his martial instructor. Taught him how to wield a longsword. His father trusted him with his life. Under normal circumstances, he would’ve trusted Rydan with his life too. But after he went behind Gerold’s back and sided with Petyr, he wasn’t so sure anymore. Even then, he still answered. “Yes.”

“And Rydan trusted me. Did you know how I persuaded him to go behind your back?”

Lord Grafton shook his head. “No.” He was genuinely curious.

“Just in case we failed. If we failed, we’ll be accused of breaking the King’s Peace. However, you.” He pointed at Gerold. “Who had no knowledge of our plot will be safe. You won’t be persecuted and -,” Gerold was about to retort but Petyr trudged on. “Before you say,” he weirdly signalled with his fingers. “-‘Why didn’t you trust me?’, ‘How dare you decide for me!’” He drawled and made mocking gestures which irritated Gerold.

“Just get on with it!”

“Firstly, Rydan loves you. He cares for you. He doesn’t want his actions to potentially damage you. And as much as you don’t believe it, I care for you too. No child should say goodbye to their parents so soon.” Gerold’s chest started to do a Mereenese knot. Petyr sounded sincere, almost too believable. “Secondly, do you trust Stephas?”

Gerold was confused with the way the conversation was going. “Yes.”

Petyr shook his head. “That’s why. That’s the second reason why we went behind your back.”

“What? Because of Stephas? How? He agreed with everything you’ve proposed. Yea sure, he was wary of you. In fact, who wouldn’t be wary of a stranger with unsavoury rumours offering their help to others?”

“You wound me. But it’s not about my opinion of the man. He’s agreeable and intelligent enough. So far, he’s quite open-minded to reforms and change. But he’s a spy. A spy for Isembard.”

Gerold laughed so hard he nearly ran out of breath. He carried on laughing before noticing the serious vibe Petyr was exuding. “You’re serious!?”

“I was curious to how fast the Arryns were responding to my reforms. Every policy I’ve introduced, somehow the Arryns have a response to it. They were masters of bluffing and hid it pretty well but after months of negotiating with them, I grew suspicious. So – promise me you won’t get mad?“ He paused and waited for Gerold.

“It depends.”

“I’ve ordered my agents to… Observe your household.” Petyr tensed, waiting for the inevitable backlash but was surprised when he just sighed.

“Did you really expect that I would throw a tantrum? After I’ve witnessed what you were capable of today, this isn’t surprising. So, what did you find out?” Gerold lied. He was fuming inside and wanted to wring Petyr’s neck. But he controlled his emotions and was rewarded with Petyr’s stupefied expression.

“Isembard… Favours the same sex.”

Gerold’s response to this pleasantly surprised Petyr. “Let me guess, Isembard found this out and blackmailed him?”

“Exactly as you say, Gerold.”

“Anything else you want to tell me?”

Gerold was curious when he saw Petyr shift in his seat and grabbed his chin. “I don’t want to influence your relationship with Stephas.”

“I’m sick of people deciding for me as if I’m fragile. Speak.” Gerold’s voice was slightly raised.

“Stephas, under the orders from Isembard, burnt your marriage offers. Offers from many influential lords. The most major one I can remember is from Yohn Royce asking for a betrothal between you and his daughter, Ysilla.”

Gerold saw red. This went on for years when his father was still alive. Years of supposed rejection drove his father mad. He was convinced house Grafton was cursed and a great conspiracy, headed by major Vale lords, was out to get him and extinguish his bloodline. His paranoia and madness seeped into Gerold. All this because Stephas has a secret! Was it worth it watching dad descend into madness!? Was it worth it watching house Grafton, the house he pledged allegiance to, dwindle in numbers!?

He shook his head. “This is treason. I want ravens sent to all houses of the Vale accusing the Arryns of such dishonour! They’ll not get away with this.” He calmed down eventually. “My knights should be arriving in a week. In a week we’ll hold a war council.”

“As you say, my lord.” Petyr got up and was about to leave the solar.

“Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Petyr. Sorry for the harsh words I’ve said.”

Petyr nodded and bowed in response.

I still can’t trust him. But… I can see why he went behind my back.

Maribelle II

The past week was frantic. She ran around ordering her men to filter out a great amount of information. Ravens went back and forth across the tower carrying crucial information. Under orders from Petyr, she compiled the information relating to the mustering grounds and household knights who pledged their allegiance to Isembard.

It was looking bleak. Many knightly houses, like house Shett, flocked like moths to House Arryn. House Grafton of Asherville, Timberton and Silverbridge has also answered Isembard’s call for mobilisation. These cadet branches may only rule a small village or town but the lands surrounding it could prove troublesome. Their lands blocked the roads effectively cutting off Gulltown from the rest of the Vale. Knights and smaller nobility, horrified by the heresy and their checks to power, flocked to Isembard.

The mustering of levies was harder to estimate but reports have stated their numbers were around 1700 to 2300. Their weaponry and armour were pathetic – armed with nothing but a pitchfork and boiled leather. She was confident in Petyr’s Redcoats and if trained sufficiently, the levies from the other side would be crushed. They also outnumbered them. But she was not worried about the levies. She was worried about the number of knights the other side had. Worrying missives have stated they numbered around 700, vastly outnumbering Gerold’s 250 knights.

Thankfully, the settlements north of Gulltown have remained loyal to the main branch of Grafton. More likely to Petyr. True to Petyr’s estimation they’ve answered his call and mustered at Gulltown, a thousand strong. She was thankful they’d remained loyal. At least the road to Runestone, Gulltown’s primary trade partner, remained open.

This has augmented Petyr’s army to 4000 strong. Feeding them was proving a difficult task but house Vantery has delivered on its promises. In exchange for land, ennoblement, and marriage to Petyr.

She twirled her hair and bit her nails. Ladies weren’t supposed to do this much! They shouldn’t even be expected to contribute to matters of war. She didn’t know anymore if she wanted true ‘liberation’ if she knew Petyr was going to work her this hard.

Sulking and tired she continued to do her work and spurred her scribes and clerks. She would lead by example.

Despite the looming threat of war, she couldn’t help but feel hopeful. They thought marrying an Arryn and monopolising the food market would ennoble their house. Alas, Isembard reneged on his promise for a peerage and refused to give them land to call their own. House Vantery promised vengeance for this insult, and she was glad she was taking a monumental contribution. She groaned again as her wrist started to hurt. She cracked her neck and stretched, remembering how Petyr did it.

She picked through another stack of parchment and moaned. This time the response from the major houses. Reports have shown they were interested in the conflict but offered no visible support through giving money and sending troops down. However, it was concerning how none of them bothered to reply to Gerold about his accusation. Did they believe him? She would never know. The realms of high nobility eluded her. Sometimes she laughed at their incompetence in matters of trade and ‘copper counting’ but some houses have given her pause. The first was the Graftons under Lord Marq. Sponsoring raids aimed at rivals that were proven to be advantageous to the merchants of Gulltown, including her family, was a brilliant move.

Now, there was Petyr Baelish. She shouldn’t be shocked that he’s just a minor lord from the Fingers. After all, the success he has built seems to come from his hard work and not from his blood. That she can admire. However, his ambition and the ruthlessness he pursued it, scared her sometimes.

He’s not scared of deceiving, misleading and scamming his way through the path of success or the ‘ladder’ as he calls it. In fact, when negotiating their marriage, she found out Orland hasn’t discussed any marriage offers. She stewed in self-loathing. Petyr lied and she hadn’t suspected a thing. If she knew, she could’ve secured a more favourable deal for house Vantery.

She nursed her aching head and organised and placed her parchment in a ‘folder’. She closed the folder and called for a carriage. “To Grafton keep, my good man.”

“At once, milady.”

Maribelle hoped she packed everything correctly. The information her agents gathered for the past week could make or break their campaign. She hoped they would succeed for the sake of her family and the everlasting prosperity of Gulltown. She shivered at that. She was starting to sound like Petyr now.

The Arryn widow entered Gerold’s solar as she was announced by the herald. “Lady Maribelle Arryn nee Vantery!”

Rydan and Petyr stood up and bowed their heads whereas Gerold nodded. “It seems everyone is here. I declare this War Council has now started.” Gerold stated.

The big portly man cleared his throat and spread a piece of map on the table. A map showing the peninsula they shared with the house Royce of Runestone.

“Now, future wife of Petyr, where are Isembard’s forces rallying? What numbers are we expectin’?” Rydan looked at her prompting Gerold to raise his eyebrows and gave her and Petyr an appraising look.

She stood up and pointed at Timberton. “They’re marshalling their forces right here. A good central position which should accelerate their time to mobilise. My agents say they have just under a week, mayhap, five or six days of rallying before they march towards Gulltown. In the worst-case scenario, they’ll have 2300 levies with 700 or more knights.”

Gerold jerked his head at that. “They outnumber my knights!”

“Looks like we’ll be outmanoeuvred when we take to the field. We’ll have to rely on the training Rydan gave the Redcoats to hold their pikes against charging cavalry.” Petyr jabbed in.

“It’ll not be enough, lad. Most of the knights are veterans of Robert’s rebellion. They’re not gonna be stupid. They’ll attack from the flanks and from then on, they’ll sweep our infantry.”

“How about making a square? That’ll cover our flanks!”

“That’ll only slow us even more. We’ll be surrounded on all sides whilst being pelted with arrows. Our moral will bleed out then the cavalry can move in and defeat us piecemeal.” Rydan shook his head. “Enough, Petyr. You’re clearly useless in the art of ground tactics. But care to share your ‘Grand Strategy’.”

Maribelle huffed in delight as she saw Petyr blushing. It seems the ever-perfect, Petyr, can be humbled once in a while. She looked at Gerold who shared her sentiment as he struggled to hold his snigger down.

Petyr rolled his eyes at Rydan and then redirected the room to the map once again. “Maribelle, the Graftons of Silverbridge – are they marching towards Timberton or are they staying?”

The spymistress opened her folder again and combed through it until she got what she was looking for. “It seems 800 of their levies and 120 household knights have departed just yesterday. They should be arriving in Timberton in two days.”

“Now that’s odd. I get that Timberton is a central location, ideal for mustering but it would’ve made more sense to muster at Silverbridge instead. They’re the closest to Gulltown and they have a river for ease of logistics and transporting their troops there. So, why Timberton?” Petyr looked at Gerold. “These are your cousins. Though quite distant. Do you have anything you can add to ascertain why they chose to do this?”

Gerold looked at the map and then pointed at the mountains west of Gulltown. “Dad used to take me to those mountains a lot. To hunt mountain goats. It’s also rich in rock salt which is very profitable and so my ancestors built a road through those mountains so people can harvest it. Building a road turned out to be easy due to the presence of goat paths.”

Petyr hummed and clicked his tongue. “These ‘roads’ are they stable? How wide are they? Do they lead to Gulltown?”

The rest of the room seems to catch on. “The road is made of gravel; I would say it’s stable. And the road could fit six people if they stood abreast of each other.”

“Then the only explanation I could think of – by mustering at Timberton, they can easily traverse this mountain path and siege Gulltown.” Petyr gestured for Maribelle. “How many garrisons are left in Silverbridge?”

“The traders say they have just under three hundred men.”

“Looks like they’re baiting us to siege and capture Silverbridge while they do the same for Gulltown. It seems like a trap. And I think it’s a trap worth falling for.”

“Pardon me?!” Gerold asked in shock as he spoke for everyone in the room.

“We can easily take it with just 2500 men, shoved in boats and sail up the river. Your knights will have to come with us too, Gerold. Cavalry behind the walls is pointless.”

Maribelle shook her head and disagreed. “You’re moving against the stream! It’ll take too long to get there and by the time you get back – we’ll probably have our heads in spikes.” Gerold hummed in approval at that.

“Who said about turning back? Come on. Who takes 2500 men and 250 knights to siege a town with just a 300 garrison?” He paused for effect which will never stop irritating Maribelle. “We’ll take Timberton as well, cutting off Isembard’s army in the mountains.”

“What if we’ll be under siege?”

“Then you can easily hold the city with 1500 of the Redcoats. I’ve instructed them to start building ditches across the walls. They’re stockpiling rocks and charcoal to boil water. You may be outnumbered but their numbers aren’t enough to breach the walls whilst faced with 1500 men shooting and pouring hot water unto you. Hopefully, we’ll arrive when they’re sieging you, then it’ll be a matter of time till they’re defeated.”

“How about the supplies? And you still haven’t answered my question about going against the stream.”

“Naerys is the most qualified to answer that question. But currently, she’s training the sailors how to tack wind. It should help us go much faster upstream. As for supplies… Naerys again. I’ve given her the Office’s permission to requisition the ships to stock the city if it ever comes under siege.”

“This plan looks feasible.” Gerold looked at Rydan. “Judging by your silence, you agree with this course of action, Oldman?”

“Yes… But I get to take overall command of the army once we take to the field.”

“I’ll command the knights.” Gerold jumped in his seat. His first-ever war. A war that would earn his spurs.

“I’ll be looking after the logistics then. But I’ll command parts of the Redcoats, if you’ll allow me, Rydan.” Master Porter grunted affirmatively at Petyr.

Then all three looked at her. “As for you. You’ll be my regent. Don’t lose the city.” Gerold solemnly said.

Maribelle wanted to gasp in shock, but years of lessons kicked in. “Will do, my lord.” She saw Petyr look proudly at her, but she rolled her eyes in response.

Seven hells! This isn’t a woman’s job!

Petyr VI

It took two days to sail up the river Gull and he was impressed by the professionalism of the sailors. He had to make sure to reward Naerys for this feat.

The sight of dozens of carracks offloading hundreds of men spooked the leader of the garrison. Petyr immediately arranged for a parlay and was greeted by a man who shivered endlessly. The weather was mild with rays of sunshine, he must’ve been intimidated by his Redcoats which made Petyr grin.

“L-lord B-aelish. How may I be of s-service?”

Petyr ignored him and grabbed a basket of bread to which he sprinkled salt. “Bread and salt? We don’t want perfidy and deception under Guest Rights.”

The man seems to relax at that as he took a big bite of the salted bread. “Sorry, my lord. I didn’t mean to forget my manners. My name is Bryan Grafton. Currently the regent of Silverbridge for my brother.”

“Well, Bryan. This is a lovely town you have here. An exporter of silver, I hear.”

“Yes, my lord. But business has been declining ever since you’ve seized power in Gulltown.” Bryan jabbed. He straightened his back and stared unflinchingly at Petyr. “Our cause is just. You’ve taken my cousin as a hostage, and we’ll fight to restore him back to his birthright.”

“It seems there was a misunderstanding then. Right now, Gerold is right here with me.” Wait… He doesn’t know about Gerold’s ravens? This is a fantastic opportunity!

Bryan’s face turned white. “Have you come to surrender him, then? Do so now to prevent further bloodshed.”

“Oh, you damn fool. You don’t get it, don’t you! Once I return the boy, Isembard won’t hesitate to have him killed. He’s been coveting Gulltown all this time.”

“He’ll be safe under us! This war was to oppose your heresy and to maintain stability.”

“Maintaining stability by sticking to the status quo? Please! That’ll only favour noblemen like you who think they can do as they please with the smallfolk! Have you visited Gulltown recently? It’s booming! Something… I don’t see with Silverbridge.”

“Because of your Seven-damned tax! And now you want to erode the authority of nobility. The same nobility who provided peace and stability to the Vale for thousands of years!”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? Nothing has changed for thousands of years. There are still problems endemic to poorer folks. You know there’s a saying, that a civilisation can be judged by how well they treat its weakest members of society. Right now, I’m afraid to say, most of the Vale is barbaric.”

“Then leave and don’t come back! The barbarians you should be talking about were driven off from this peninsula for generations now! That’s why your precious trade aren't constantly raided by mountain clans.”

“And for that, they have my undying respect. But that was the past. Let’s look to the future, shall we? A future where it is governed by the many, not the few. Give the tools the smallfolk need to rise above their station, and you have a recipe for innovation, change and lastly – progress! Gulltown is the epitome of progress! Money is overflowing!”

Bryan guffawed at that. “That’s the reason now, is it. Nothing but pitiful copper counting. Only the lows of the lows participate in that.”

“That’s exactly why stubborn lords, such as you, will be buried by my revolution,” Petyr smirked which caused Bryan to flinch.

“You’re insane!”

“Not really. I have sole custody of Lord Gerold. I’ll be willing to give him to you if you surrender the town. Under my word, I’ll let you and your garrison pass safely through. And if you refuse… Just be glad I’m not insane.”

“I need proof he’s alive.”

“He’s alive and I’m getting bored. I want a response now. Otherwise, you and your cousin will die. The nobility has no place in my future.”

Bryan’s legs jerked as his groin turned damp. “F-fine. I’ll order a runner to send a message to my garrison to disarm themselves and to open the gates. But I’m staying right here. I’ll still be under the rules of Guest Right.”

“A paranoid little thing, aren’t you? Fine. As long as the town is mine by the end of the hour, you’re free to take the boy with you.”

After an hour, three hundred brown-cloaked troops marched out of the town and dropped their swords. Suddenly, they were surrounded by Redcoats.

“What’s the meaning of this, Littlefinger!?”

The Redcoats parted revealing a familiar-looking young man with short brown hair prompting Bryan to sigh in relief. “Cousin! I’m glad you’re alive!”

Gerold responded by drawing his sword. “You may be my kin, but you’ve committed treason by allying yourself with the Arryns. I want to gut you like a fish, but my dad would turn in his grave if I did so. I don’t want to be known as a kinslayer. For now, you’ll make a good hostage.” He ordered the soldiers to apprehend him.

“Wait! Littlefinger promised to give us safe passage! Unhand me!”

“Exactly. Petyr promised you. But not me.” Gerold stared at his cousin as he struggled. The guards were growing impatient and gagged him with rope and tied his hands behind him.

Gerold saw Petyr walk up to him. “You know, I’m glad you’re on my side. As much as I loathe your dishonourable means, it’s sometimes useful.”

“It’s always useful.”

He shook his head to pre-empt the growing headache building up in Gerold’s temple. “The way you said that… You’ve got me curious. I made a mistake by allowing you to do as you please but from now on you’ll have to tell me everything you’ve done.”

“More lectures, perhaps?” Petyr smiled and ruffled his hair.

“Sure. And don’t touch my hair. I’m not a boy anymore.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m only two years younger than you!”

Petyr realised his mishap covered it up by ruffling Gerold’s hair once again to his growing irritation. How old was I in my past life? Way older than seventeen years, surely!