The training yard is populated with the sound of recruits struggling as their commanders yell insults at them. Three quarters of the ones who aren't incompetent might become watch constables, an eight might be given a position in the army suited to their abilities, half of what remains may become squires and the other half could become royal guard's. We try and find something for those who are too fat, weak or just simple to do, usually have them do the jobs no-one else wants to. In battlefields they might salvage equipment, separate and then burn bodies and poke the dying with a spear. In safety they might care for horses and perform simplistic tasks such as keep books or execute minor criminals.

I stand at the northern section of the training field with a bow. I've expended all of my arrows in putting a neat cross in the straw man that was my target. I put three arrows in a descending line on its face, one in where each of its lungs would be, one in the heart, one in the gut and the final one its crotch. It wasn't a particularly difficult feat, the straw man didn't move, wasn't running towards me with a weapon, wasn't intent on getting vengeance for the wounds I inflicted upon it. It just stood there motionlessly, taking whatever abuse I wished to give it.

"Well shot, my prince!" Thomas declares from behind me.

"A man like yourself should at least have the decency to be loud," I say. "Or at the very least formally make your presence known to those you watch."

"Apologies my prince, I did not wish to startle-"

"You didn't and those arrows weren't well shot."

"Did you not hit your target-"

"The bastard child of a hunter could hit this target."

"You judge yourself harshly-"

"Don't give me praise because you believe it's what I want."

"As you wish my prince."

"Do you feel like stating the reason you are here or will you just silently watch me like a ghost?"

"High Guard Thaddeus said there was an incident earlier today and said that I was to watch you in order to prevent another."

"Your presence can be of no harm," I sigh and walk over to the straw man. "Has the location of my dear cousin been discovered yet?"

"Found drenched in ale in a tavern, we brought him back to his chambers, he has yet to wake."

"That's odd," I say as I rip the arrow out. "He usually manages to stumble into some alley or trouble before his body fails him."

"Happens to the best of us, my prince."

"That doesn't make it less odd, even when he does slip away from this world in a tavern he's usually made sure everyone in the room knows of his blood. Almost always someone delivers him here for a few coppers and when they can't they send a letter telling us where to collect him, usually followed by a place to send the reward. When was the last time we had to search for him?"

"Few days after his mother took her life. Managed to elude us for days, never figured out where he was hiding was just found in the marketplace buying-"

"Before my birth then," I cut him short. "So what prompted my dear cousin to become just another faceless drunkard for a day?"

"I'm sure he'll tell us when he wakes."

"You severely doubt his ability to forget that which upsets him. One moment he'll weep over a boy's corpse, next he'll be dancing with those in closest proximity to him and come the night he won't remember his age."

"Can't say I'm rather familiar with his habits, my prince."

"No one is. He picks up a new one as soon as he bores of the old, his love of paying for company is hIs only constant."

Thomas doesn't respond to that. Leaving me to silently return the bow and arrows to the weapons rack.

"If you would like my prince you could practice your swordestry with me," Thomas pipes up, presumably growing uncomfortable of the silence.

"Thomas, I fight without sportsmanship or remorse," I state. "Should I manage to control myself you'd hate me for the humiliation I've caused, should I fail to do so you'd be dead. In addition to that, I've been here for an hour putting crosses into that straw men, training is beginning to grow dull. So instead why don't we go find some interest together instead?"

Thomas, being a knight and entrusted with my safety, was understandably opposed to venturing outside of Castle Black in search of one vice or another to hold my intrigue so instead I decided to pay a visit to the dear archbishop. I wonder how much he knows about the captain's current condition, according to the servants the man still hasn't left his chambers nor has anyone entered them.

A tray of food has been left by his door alongside a jug of water. Fried bacon and egg. It was left there at dawn and clearly hasn't even been touched, perhaps the good archbishop has sworn off eating as well as speaking, if that's the case soon he'll be the dead archbishop. I pick up the tray and hand it to Thomas.

"It's cold but probably still good for eating if you're wanting for a meal," I say plainly.

"Thank you my prince," Thomas responds.

I bang on the archbishop's door twice and say in a politely raised voice, "Father! I thought we might converse for a bit!"

I receive no response.

"Father!" I repeat banging on the door thrice more. "If you have other matters to attend to it's fine but I'd just like to affirm your health!"

Still no indication that I've been heard.

"Come now archbishop!" I yell, irritation beginning to creep into my voice. "There's no need to be rude! Just come out to affirm for me that you will be capable of crowning me tomorrow!"

Only silence comes once I have finished. Out of curiosity I press my ear to the keyhole to attempt to hear whatever he's doing. I only hear quiet whispering.

"It appears the bishop is too busy praying to be bothered with us," I sigh. This disrespect chews on nerves my brother has already stripoed away the armouring for.

"Your cousin Serah is free last I checked, my prince," Thomas says through a mouthful of bacon. "She never fails to hold your interest. Both lady Greys are also no longer mourning should you wish to-"

I draw my stiletto and cram it into the keyhole. With one twist the door clicks and I can push it open easily.

"Thomas before you retire to your chambers tonight find our locksmith, commandeer all of his worldly possessions and inform him that he's now unemployed."

"I will try my prince but-"

"Don't try just fucking do it," I snap. "The bankers will have his name recorded in one of their books so it won't be hard to find the moron."

"It will be done my prince."

"Good, now wait here while I discuss matters with the archbishop."

"As you wish my prince."

I push into the archbishop's room, quietly sheathing my stiletto.

The chamber we gave the archbishop are large enough. It contains a feather bed, dining table, three chairs, a dresser and a fireplace. First I notice that the chairs haven't been moved, the dresser's handles are still covered in a thin layer of dust and the bed hasn't been touched. Then I notice the heat, it's like I'm in a steam room. I shrug off my cloak immediately and undo the top two buttons of my shirt. Despite this the bishop is kneeling before the fireplace mere inches away from the bright orange flames, whispering to himself as he removes splinters of wood from a log in his left hand and throws them into the fire. Judging from the amount of splinters on the carpet and the size of the fire he's been doing this for a while.

"Do you have a chill father?" I inquire, trying in vain to wipe the sweat off of my face. "Or do you simply hold a grudge against the combustible?"

The archbishop doesn't even turn his head my way.

"Father, face me," I demand calmly.

He doesn't even twitch, at this point it'd have surprised me if he did.

I open the door to the hall and grab the jug of water left outside his chambers. Thomas looks at me inquisitively still eating the archbishop's meal.

"The father is a bit parched," I lie before bringing the jug in with me and closing the door again. It's cheap glazed pottery and has a few patterns of ocean waves on it.

"Who do you think made this?" I inquire, conversing more with myself than the archbishop. "Would have been someone in this kingdom, grandfather was too cheap to have anything imported, probably someone in this city. However our kingdom is landlocked and do you know how hard it is to get into the eastern or western cesspool? The ones to our left are still griping over all that raping, pillaging, poisoning and skinning we did a few hundred years ago and the ones to our right are still whinging over this fine kingdom we stole a few hundred years ago. They deny the nobility entrance every chance they get, took ten gold bricks to convince them to allow mother her little boat ride away, how would a potter get through?"

The bishop flicks another splinter into the fire, I don't even think the man is murmuring in English.

"Perhaps the potter didn't get through," I continue. "Perhaps he knew few here have seen the sea, perhaps he assumed no one would care this much about a jug of water…"

The archbishop peels off another splinter with his fingers.

"Have you ever seen the ocean father? I haven't, might be worth looking at after my crowning. It's supposed to be quite pretty."

The silence begins to irk me and this irking reminds me of the original reason I brought the jug in.

I hurl the thing into the fireplace. As one would expect it explodes into many pieces and douses the flames with water. They endure for a few moments before fading into nothingness. The archbishop stares blankly into the fireplace for a moment before peeling off another splinter and putting it in the empty fireplace.

"Speak damn you!" I yell, walking up to the man as I withdraw my stiletto. I drop to one knee and press the blade's tip to his throat. "Speak or I'll string a violin with the chords of your throat and have our jester play it all night long."

The archbishop's head turns to look at me, he still doesn't speak, just mindlessly mumbles, doesn't even wince as the blade scratches his skin and blood trickles out. His eyes clearly aren't right, calling them bloodshot would be a massive understatement. The whites are cinnabar red, a few traces of brown iris can be seen and the pupils are incredibly narrow. On top of all that there's something more substantially off-putting about them, something incredibly less noticeable than colour and size and yet somehow something incredibly more important. Something is missing from this man, something left him and took his wits and his instincts with it. I sheath my stiletto and rise.

"What did you do?" I ask, disgusted by this unnatural emptiness.

The archbishop simply draws a circle with his finger, as if the symbol of his faith explains it all. Those dull eyes stare into mine, craving what they lack, hungry for what they see within me.

"You're not the red bishop," I state, backing to the door. "You might have been once but now you're barely a man."

Without wasting further words on the creature I exit the chambers.

"Is all well my prince?" Thomas inquires as soon as I shut the door.

"Find the ward, bring him to my chambers, lock the door once you leave," I say bitterly.

"And should he oppose-"

"Then snap his ankles and drag him there."

"My prince-"

"Find that bastard child, bring him to my chambers and ensure that he fucking stays there!" I yell. "Should he kIck snap his shins! Should he punch, crush his fists! Should he bite remove his teeth! I do not care if it incites a war, I do not care if you have to slit the throats of all the soldiers they brought with them to achieve it, I don't care if your better fucking nature speaks out against harming a child! Just get to it now and send word to me when he's contained!"

Thomas turns and briskly walks away to carry out the order, leaving me alone with my irritation. Probably for the best, I have a habit of lashing out when annoyed and spilling blood needlessly just perpetuates my annoyance.