Chapter 223

The Vale. Gulltown. 301 AC.

Axel Arryn.

Gulltown, a place of great opportunity and equally great trouble. A convenient sea port linking the lands within reach of the Narrow Sea, it let a man sample wonders from every corner of the world, and the money it brought in was staggering to think about. During the Winter this port had remained the sole link between the Vale and the rest of the world. But wherever huge sums of money change hands, equally huge troubles tend to follow. The Graftons, the men who had governed the town, had grown too fond of their lies and paid the price for it. After the uprising the town had passed into the hands of Lord Desmond Redfort, my old, trusted, and ambitious friend. There had been difficulties, but the young lord had done everything in his power to prove that my trust in him had not been misplaced.

The Lord of Gulltown himself met my company at the city gates. Desmond made an attempt at the usual courtly nonsense, apparently expecting me to be angry with him over some shortcomings. But there was nothing of my old friend in that performance, so I sent etiquette straight to the seven hells.

“Desmond,” I said, never one for formality. “How are you holding up?”

“Getting by,” he said. There were bags under his eyes, but his face was thoroughly pleased with itself. “The tasks you set me, my lord, are nothing short of fantastic. Some nights I barely get any sleep at all, carrying out your will.”

“Hahaha,” I couldn’t even argue with that; building a fleet from nothing was a real trial for any administrator. “I have faith you’ll manage it.”

“Where else would I go,” he said, with a playful sort of resignation that set us both laughing again.

“Tell me what you’ve managed to get done,” I said, while at the same time taking in the town around me, and I liked what I saw.

The streets were clean, the people looked content, goods were plentiful, there wasn’t a beggar to be seen anywhere, the guards were keeping to their duties, everyone seemed to be hurrying off somewhere with purpose, the town was alive. And yet barely a year ago Gulltown had been a wretched sight; a siege never did make a city more beautiful. Desmond might not have carried out every one of my orders to the letter, but this scene alone was the best possible proof that he was a fine administrator.

“…the docks have been expanded. The shipwrights you sent are training our people properly. We’ve remained the only ‘island of calm’ in the middle of a raging Westeros, trade is thriving, and a few incentives have drawn in even more merchants from the Free Cities.”

Lordship had taught Redfort how to talk himself up nicely. “You’ve done well.”

…

After arriving at Desmond’s residence and making quick work of the bureaucratic matters, a small feast followed. Nothing too serious, just our retinues drinking a bit and eating their fill. The next day brought the moment I had left the Gates of the Moon in such a hurry for.

“A pleasure to meet you, Lord Arryn,” the dark haired, grey eyed young man said, gripping my hand firmly. “My father spoke of you often.”

“I can only hope you heard something good,” I said, and after that we settled in at the table. “I know northerners have no patience for idle talk, so why did you ask for this meeting? If it weren’t for how well I know your sister, I would have ignored such an impudent proposal, Lord Snow.” Ned’s bastard didn’t so much as blink at the jab.

“I understand, but the matter is serious,” Jon Snow said, and spent several seconds trying to find the right way into the subject before he could manage it. At last he asked me:

“Do you believe in myths, Lord Arryn?”