Chapter 210

Axel Arryn.

The door to my solar closed, and I let myself sink back into my comfortable chair with something close to relief. The conversation with Horton Redfort had just concluded, and by its end, every party involved could count themselves satisfied. Myself especially, though the old man rather less so.

The system of punishment in Westeros is a curious thing, particularly where the nobility is concerned. Officially, vassal lords can only be judged by their liege lords, while the lords paramount answer to the King of the Seven Kingdoms alone. But that's beside the point. I found myself facing a small puzzle in the person of Lord Horton's fate. What do you do when a nobleman puts himself thoroughly in the wrong, yet the offense is too small to send him to the Wall for? A fine, sanctions, that sort of thing, all off the table, since Jasper had made an enormous contribution in the Riverlands. What I needed was a punishment that would remove the man from political life entirely, but Essos wasn't an option either. In the end, the answer was simple: retirement.

Every great house keeps a place or two set aside for exile, somewhere to quietly ship off relatives who've grown a bit too troublesome. In the Vale, that usually means some modest castle along the coast. Disgraced kin are sent there to live out their remaining years in peace. They're given everything they need, but they're not permitted much contact with the outside world.

Given the little stunt he'd attempted, the old man escaped with remarkably light punishment, no terrible retribution at all. Lord Horton Redfort, having "voluntarily" passed everything on to his eldest son Jasper, departed for a well earned retirement somewhere along the Narrow Sea. I promised to take no action against his house, since I had no need to. His heir was a loyal supporter of mine, and I had no reason to expect trouble from that quarter.

The attempt to "restore justice" had been doomed from the very start. I hadn't sent my letter asking for support to Redfort alone, but to two other houses as well, Royce and Templeton. Uncle Yohn grumbled a bit, but agreed after some back and forth correspondence, while Symond Templeton once again proved himself a man of remarkable foresight. The moment Horton's letter proposing an alliance reached him, that lord grasped exactly what kind of trap was being laid, and promptly gave up his would be co-conspirator. Beyond him, I also had a very powerful warg in my service, one capable of possessing any living creature. Elena simply happened to be listening in the moment the letter arrived at its destination, and heard all the choice details straight from the heart of that great fortress.

In the end, I had reports from two independent sources, which let me perform so well at the feast. But I hadn't forgotten that Symond, loyal as he was, might still succumb to temptation. In case of his rebellion, another plan had been drawn up as well. A bit bloodier, but every bit as effective. Thankfully, it hadn't been needed.

"May I come in?" Once I nodded, Snow calmly took the seat where the former Lord Redfort had recently sat. "Did everything go well?"

From the frightened girl who used to tremble in my presence, she had grown into a confident young woman. Secret operations, war, and the responsibility of caring for her younger relatives had worked their wonders, and now Elena could speak with me as an equal.

"Yes, though that's clearly not why you've come. What do you want?"

"Let me go north," straight to the point, no beating around the bush. That's what I love about northerners.

"You know as well as I do why I won't let you go home." She alone was worth an entire branch of my key intelligence network, and knew far too much about most of the affairs in my region. Morgan hadn't spent all that time hunting down "rats" just so one girl could go and spill everything.

"My home is burning. Tens of thousands of wildlings are pouring down from the Wall, ironborn raiders are coming from the west, corsairs have grown bolder in the east, and on top of all that, there are those strange letters from the Lord Commander of the Night's Watch, while my brothers have a couple thousand men at their disposal and a kingdom nearly as large as all the other kingdoms combined." Snow was clearly troubled for her homeland. "I'm not asking for money, men, or supplies, none of that. Just me, and nothing more."

The North had more problems piling up with every passing day. The long economic strain of the war, the loss of their army, the death of their lord, betrayal from their allies, and coming home essentially empty handed, none of it boded well for the region. And winter's approach was making things worse still. In short, the Starks were in for a hard time, if they could weather it at all.

"I understand your concern, but you carry knowledge that could just as easily harm my own house now. What guarantee do I have that you won't let slip some secret, or start spying for my enemies?" Not to mention that those who carried such knowledge usually ended up a head shorter, one way or another.

"You have my word. I promise no one will learn anything from me about the Vale." How rare true faith is, in this world as in every other, and yet for some reason, I decided to take the risk.

"...Give Morgan the latest locations on the mountain clansmen's whereabouts, and you may set out whenever you like." Elena was already rising to thank me when I continued, "Draw up a list of goods you'll need, nothing over five thousand gold dragons. When you sail home, those goods will travel with you. Consider it my gratitude for a successful campaign in the Riverlands."

Fear and generosity always go hand in hand. Rule by fear alone, and people will rise against you. Rule by generosity alone, and the same holds true. Only by striking a balance can true loyalty be forged. Elena had endured enough fear at my hands, and had earned plenty of honors besides, but now came the most valuable thing of all: trust. Though my trust wasn't rooted purely in "faith in her word," some of it, yes, but there were also the simple matters of Brandon and Sansa Stark held as hostages. Snow wouldn't understand that for some time yet, but afterward... it would serve me well.

"Good luck in the times to come."

"And to you, Lord Arryn."

-------------------------