Edric's boots echoed off the cold stone floor as he strode through the halls of Harrenhal. He hadn't been inside very often, and what he saw, along with its sheer size, left him aghast at funds expended by lord Whent for its upkeep.
No wonder most of it looks ruined, He thought to himself.
Kevan Lannister led the way in front of him. The man hadn't said much since they'd ridden in. Now, just before a broad oaken door flanked by two Lannister guards, Kevan glanced at him.
"It would be for the best if you stayed put, now. Ser Edric" Kevan warned. "Once you pass through that door, remember that you will be addressing the Warden of the Westerlands."
Edric's eyebrows raised in alarm.
The Warden of the West… he wondered. He had read a little about him and was decently knowledgeable, ignoring certain rumours and crude jokes, of course.
Tywin Lannister had quite an infamous reputation, and for good reason. He reined in the prideful lords of the Westerlands, despite his weak father's destructive rule, and crushed the Reyne-Tarbeck rebellion at a relatively young age during the reign of king Jaehaerys II, hence the "The Rains of Castamere" song he heard during his first nights here in Harrenhal.
The Lannister lord also propelled the realm to untold heights of prosperity, while simultaneously dealing with the Mad King, Aerys II Targaryen, himself, to a point that lords started calling him the King's Hand, true power behind the throne of Westeros.
It was that very person who lay just behind that single wooden door before him.
But it made sense. Why else would Kevan Lannister himself be leading the way?
Edric pushed past his dilemma before giving a single nod.
"Understood."
Kevan knocked.
"..."
A moment of silence passed until both men heard a powerful, commanding voice that allowed them entry.
The chamber inside was quiet, warm with firelight, though the air still carried a chill that clung to the stones. A great hearth roared at the far end. In front of it sat a tall-backed chair, shadowed by flickering orange.
Tywin Lannister didn't turn right away.
"Lord Tywin," Kevan announced. "I present the smith. Ser Edric of Stonehaven."
Silence.
Then the chair creaked.
Tywin stood.
A tall man, he was. Taller than most men who weren't him, for sure. The lord stood straight, with broad shoulders.
He approached with slow, deliberate steps, his gaze fixed on Edric the entire time.
He stopped a pace away.
"I heard a great deal about you." Tywin muttered, though his voice resonnated around the room, demonstrating his immense prescence
"You are young, younger than some rumors say." he added.
Edric held his ground. "Yes, my lord."
Tywin looked him up and down. "And yet I am told your hands do the work of ten master smiths."
Looking at the ornate suit that had been made in a few days, the lord added.
"It seems what I thought to be... exaggerated rumors were nothing less than the truth."
Tywin Lannister had been the Hand of the King for nearly twenty years. He had seen a great many things, whether pleasing or not. But nothing could prepare him for the armor he would now see.
It looked beautiful, like a painting made by the most masterful of artists. A seamless blend of red, gold, and silverish black
"Of course, I strive to produce only the best, my lord," Edric agreed, before adding.
"If it isn't too ill-mannered of me, might I know why you have summoned me before you?"
Tywin turned from the fire and crossed to the small table near his seat. From a gilded ewer, he filled a cup with rich red wine, possibly arbor or dornish befitting his status though he was no expert, then turned slowly, letting his piercing gaze settle upon Edric once more.
"I invited you to propose and offer befitting a knight of your station."
"Come to Casterly Rock, Edric." His voice was firm — he did not ask, leaving no room in his voice for anything other than a command. "Serve me, and I shall shower you in gold and power the likes of which few ever see in their lifetimes."
Edric kept his ground. As much as he wished to say yes, honoring his word was a matter of great weight, not just for him, but for his name.
"My Lord… I am truly honored by your proposal. Few would say no to such an opportunity, but I must. My loyalty belongs elsewhere at this moment. I cannot break my word—not for gold, nor a seat at your keep."
Tywin's expression remained impassive, a mask forged by decades of power. "Consider it carefully. Few are ever given a chance to rise this high. I'm sure you realise, none have ever been foolish enough to spurn such a gift."
Edric drew a shaky breath but kept his voice steady. "My Lord, I must remain firm in my word. You must know that I work for Lord Arryn. And as such I cannot forsake him, not now at least, no matter the temptation placed before me."
Tywin turned briefly toward Kevan. "High as Honor… a pretty phrase. House Arryn's words suit you greatly, but is a poor refuge when times grow hard. Clinging to honor is a fool's endeavor." His piercing stare fell back upon the smith turned knight of Stonehaven.
"Since I cannot acquire your permanent service at Casterly Rock, I will commission. After the melee that I have no doubt you will be attending, you will forge for me a suit of armor worthy of the name Lannister. For ceremonial and wartime purposes, of course." He gestured toward the suit that Kevan had brought along with him. "You have shown to what extent your mastery runs. I expect no less than this from you, and for it, you shall be handsomely rewarded."
Edric nodded. "I will not disappoint, my Lord."
"Good. . . you may leave us"
Taking this as his cue, Edric bowed before leaving hastily.
"A shame," Kevan voiced regretfully.
"Indeed, but Lord Arryn won't hold him for long. Edric has sworn no vows to the Warden of the East, to my knowledge. It shouldn't prove too difficult to take him away."
The knight nodded.
___
Leaving the meeting, Edric became a little frustrated. He had been reminded of his contract, which entailed delivering fifty suits of darksteel armor merchandise worth a "small" three hundred and five-and-seventy gold coins. A contract that was his bane, as he had been forced to relinquish the possibility of working under the Great Lion of the Rock.
The cunning Arryn had taken advantage of him at the time, realising the value of his work relatively quickly. He had ordered Edric to make such a large number of suits for what was truly only a fraction of their worth, and merely doubled the price of what was ordinary plain castle-forged steel plate.
After all, his business with Kevan, along with the selling of armor to the other lords of the Vale, had made him realize the true economic potential of his work. A measly three hundred and five-and-seventy gold could have been five thousand, or more, and it was with regret that he realized that he had squandred that opportunity. Not that he could have done otherwise, of course, to his immense frustration.
That, along with the arrival of a new order. He had initially intended for Kevan's to be his last for quite a while, but it was hard to refuse the Lord of House Lannister twice.
He would have to make the most of his time while watching Robert win the Melee. And there would be the joust afterward, he reminded himself. It seems the next few days will be glorious!