Game of Thrones: Paladin of Old Gods - Chapter 157: The Auction (I)

**** Sorry, guys. But for over a week now I have been succumbing to mono. I can barely write five sentences a day. I don’t know if I will be able to maintain the pace of two chapters a week until I get over it.****

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POV: Olenna Tyrell

Silk Road, in a mansion assigned to the Tyrell family.

Half a day before the Great Show of Steel began…

For years the Queen of Thorns’ restful sleep had been growing shorter and shorter. Even if she wanted to, the woman would never be able to sleep for more than four hours a night.

Not that she minded. In her youth, Olenna rarely wasted her noble beauty with closed eyes. And now more than ever, each new dawn could be her last… And Olenna did not want to waste a minute savouring the few remaining wonders the world could still offer.

“Good morning, Lady Olenna… Do you wish to have breakfast in the Hall, or would you prefer to settle in the balcony again?” Gabe, her personal assistant, asked politely.

The boy, who had become a man, had been in her direct employ for almost a decade. He who had lasted longer than the many…

“It’s still too early to slap you verbally, Gabe… Balcony. I’ll always choose a panoramic view over a cramped room surrounded by bricks. And for the sake of one’s self-esteem, make sure that at least today the hard-boiled eggs aren’t boiled to the point of overcooking them into throwing weapons.” Olenna replied as she passed the boy waiting in front of her room.

“Certainly, my lady! I assure you that such an unfortunate incident will not happen again! Everything has already been arranged according to your specifications!” The boy leapt, holding himself at the exact distance of five feet back to his lady’s right, tensing his pace.

Olenna loved this little personal morning routine. So rare were the moments of the day when the Queen of Thorns could be alone in her thoughts. But it was not only moments of profitable solitude that Olenna sought. The Grandmother of House Tyrell always made sure she was the first person to say good morning to her own grandsons and her granddaughter.

The most precious treasures in the old woman’s memories were Willem and Garlan’s genuine, sleepy early morning smiles as they ran into her arms. By now, the first two heirs were too old to gratify Olenna’s affectionate whims, but there still remained little Loras and tender, sweet Margaery…

The manor assigned to House Tyrell for the tournament festivities on the Silk Road was an architectural masterpiece. Granted, the gardens were not up to the standards of Highgarden, but the estate was still worthy of rivalling the finest noble villas of Pentos.

Olenna crossed the gateway’s end that led to the coveted area for her moment of refreshment.

And there, the glare of the first light of dawn blinded Olenna’s vision for a few moments. Time to adjust to the rays, and she saw him, the shadow of a hooded individual little more than five feet tall.

“Good morning, Lady Olenna… The time since our last meeting seems to have flown by.” The twelve-year-old lowered the hood of his dark cloak, thus showing white hats and piercing green eyes with silvery streaks.

“Oh, heavenly glory!…. But what an unexpected honour and pleasure, Ser.

The First Green Knight of the Seven Kingdoms granting a withered thorn like me his “good morning” on this beautiful day.” Olenna said, noticing that Gabe was no longer behind her. Not even the twin knights, members of her personal escort, were present at their usual guard stations…

“Yes, yes, it is… This is a beautiful morning, and the sun should be shining all day long.” So replied the boy, inhaling cold air into his lungs as he took a second glance at the blue sky still speckled with faint stars.

“Aye, splendid, but not to the point of choosing this one as the ‘last one’… Has my old kidnapping attempt of six years ago finally climbed to the top of the agenda towards your conquest of the Known World?

…You haven’t come to take the trouble to assassinate me yourself, have you?” Olenna asked more if the idea was idiotic than the fear that someone might snatch her fragile short life.

“Ahahaha! I would never hurt an old and sincere friend!” the boy analysed his own garment and continued, “Oops, how careless of me…! Forgive my manners, Lady Olenna. Dressed like this, I must look like a flea bottom cutthroat hitman.” The boy unfastened his soiled dark cloak, showing underneath much more acceptable clothes befitting his noble rank. Then Duncan Tallhart gallantly moved a chair, offering her a seat.

Olenna cast a second glance around her, signalling to the boy that something else, or rather “someone else”, was missing to make the scene more credible.

“Fear not, my lady… None of your men has betrayed you, nor has any harm been done to them.

Of course, it would be gracious of you to give those three poor souls a well-deserved day of rest and a piece of gold or two to leisure themselves and forget the morning’s trauma.

Let’s just say that the twin’s Ser Dex and Ser Crex, and young Gabe will be confused for a while …” Olenna fearlessly stepped forward, indulging the boy’s game, who took it upon himself to serve and revere her with food and drink.

“Why did you have to stress my fragile heart by taking me so by surprise, Ser? Couldn’t you have sent a raven or a herald to request an audience like any other normal noble in Westeros?” Olenna.

“I apologise for the rudeness. In the eyes of many, I should still be on my way back twenty miles from port… Besides, I require our conversation to remain private. I don’t think it is necessary to specify that this meeting never took place.” Explained the boy, filling her cup.

“You know how to tease the attention of a hard-to-surprise woman. I’ll give you that one, Ser.” Bloody Snow greeted the compliment with a modest grin.

“Freshly squeezed strained blueberry juice and hard-boiled eggs boiled for two minutes, seasoned with two pinches of rose-flavoured fine salt and a pinch of nutmeg…” With a few feats of servile elegance, Bloody Snow showed her that he could get anywhere and know everything…

Olenna quietly took a sip of the sweet and sour juice that had been rinsing her palate every morning for over thirty years. After the boy sat down in front of her, Olenna said

“Mff! Your spies in Highgarden are mostly mediocre, boy. I’ve been enjoying blueberry juice with two ice cubes for almost two moons now.”

“Well, mediocre spies are better than none.” So replied the boy carelessly, filling a cup with milk and bringing a bowl of strawberries closer.

“Pff, mh, mh, mh… I notice you also keep tempering that poisonous tongue of yours in addition to your sword arm. You should show more gallantry and humility towards the old ladies… but especially towards the ‘Queens’.” Bloody Snow did not seem interested in discussing his disagreements with Cersei Lannister. The boy dismissed Olenna’s jibe with a simple:

“Shall we skip the pleasantries? We have an hour before young Loras and little Margaery arrive to bid their loving grandmother good morning.”

“You show up uninvited to my abode-“the boy corrected her ” technically, my lady, this manor belongs to House Tallhart. I would say more like entering the guest room uninvited.” Olenna snorted irritably. “Nevertheless, a rather unchivalrous gesture… To make up for such offence, you could at least stay long enough to get to know my grandchildren better. Loras really admires you, you know. He would swoon at the idea of squiring you. And Margaery…”

“I’m sure Loras will make a fine knight. Margaery is a wonderfully sweet, witty and virtuous child. Every lord or ‘prince’ on the continent will fight to woo her in the future.” The little devil did not even want to give her a try… But Olenna did not demur.

“If you have come all this way to strike another lucrative deal with my Household, it is a good idea for both parties to seal such a possible agreement with a marriage or exchange of protégés… A privilege largely granted at Casterly Rock but not yet granted at Highgarden. If your sister Eddara is to marry Lancel Lannister, then, at the very least, Benfred should marry my Margaery.”

“Not even a week has passed since my open display of interest in Dacey, and already everyone is pointing to my brother with Westeros’ new golden bachelor… Nothing is certain yet, Lady Olenna. Lancel and Eddara are still only unofficially betrothed, and the courtship period has not even begun. My father has not yet decided what proposals to consider for Benfred. My brother is still too young, and in all likelihood, it will one day be up to him to hold the reins of House Tallhart.”

This was a juicy and shocking piece of information! One that Olenna would absolutely have to delve into for the sake of her poor head!

“Is it not your intention to take over the leadership of House Tallhart yourself, Ser?” Olenna asked blandly, calmly sipping her blueberry juice.

“It would be my intention to spend my future winters on the crystal-clear beaches of the Summer Isles and to spend my Summers among these lakes, forests and mountainous landscapes, hunting, drinking and joking all the while with my near and dear friends, my lady…

No matter how much everyone thinks I aspire to the throne of the North, the South, or all the other thrones that exist in this cruel and corrupt world, I assure you that none of that appeals to me.

In my eyes, the responsibility for other lives outside one’s family is only prison.” The boy replied, smiling.

“Pff! mh, mh, mh, nice project, my lord. But these are only fantasies. Even idle princes with the wealthiest and most powerful empires behind them will always be partly slaves to dreams and responsibilities.

A sheep may dream of escaping from its enclosure and its shepherd. Still, even if the sheep succeeds, outside the enclosure, it will find nothing but Wolves, Lions, Dragons and many other predators eager to feast on its flesh.

A shepherd might dream of abandoning his flock to the wolves to be free of them, but he will always be a slave to the wool and the silver he will gain by selling it.

A wolf might dream of abandoning the hill where the flock and the shepherd reside in the hope of finding more abundant prey that is less difficult to hunt, but hunger will always bind him to the natural prey in front of him… What moral of the fable?

Whether you are born a Sheep, Shepherd or Wolf, everyone has duties and parts to play. No creature in this world will ever be free, boy.” Bloody Snow nodded, raising his goblet in assent.

So Olenna tried to ask, “What is it you really aim for, boy?”

“… Since we are all sheep, shepherds or wolves eternally enslaved to our prisons, we might as well fight for a safer, more comfortable prison for future generations. Don’t you agree, Lady Olenna?” Olenna renounced her intent. Perhaps not even the gods could know the accurate future plans of that diabolical mind.

She might as well move on to more concrete matters…

The Queen of Thorns conspicuously poured two ice cubes into her cup. “Once you get used to cold drinks, there’s no going back…” Olenna cast a glare at her counterpart.

“So the ice from Dorne has reached the pantries of Highgarden. I am pleased to note that House Tyrell has again chosen to reopen trade with House Martell.” The time had come to touch on the Highgarden-Sunspear subject.

“You have left us no choice… Not even four moons have passed since your visit to Sunspears, and here is House Martell entering the market of the Southlands with ice… ‘Ice’ not carried from snowy mountains, but artificially produced who knows where in the fiery lands of Dorne…” Olenna emphasised her marked disappointment in her tone of voice.

“I thought you and I had established a solid bridge of trust.

The Tyrells have respected every contractual comma stipulated in our agreement for almost six years. So why choose House Martell over us? Now that summer is looming-” Bloody Snow anticipated her.

“Ice will sell more than wheat and yield far more than Tyrell perfumes… Yes, my lady, I am well aware of the future economic prospects of that industry. House Tallhart has made excellent trade agreements with many other southern houses. It is not my intention or my family’s to cause any direct offence towards House Tyrell.”

“Yet, House Tallhart bestows prosperity and friendship towards the enemies of House Tyrell and the Crown…” Olenna pulled out the first real thorn to test the defences and patience of the overgrown ferocious beast.

The boy’s smile wilted faintly, and the round eyes blazing with enthusiasm sharpened as they became colder.

“If I am not mistaken, House Tyrell has regained every ounce of gold from the loan granted to us. A loan repaid with all due agreed interest, and six years ahead of due…

The [Enflorage Process] quadrupled your oil essence extraction yield by lowering your processing costs by 70%.” Bloody Snow launched into the attack.

“And during the last harsh winter, House Tyrell supplied the North with 2,000,000 bushels of wheat, 800,000 bushels of cereals, 100,000 pounds of the finest honey, 30,000 head of cattle and 40,000 of sheep. Foodstuffs in which my household has taken it upon itself to transport punctually by sea, assuming every risk on the cargo, and which have saved half the people of the North from starvation…” replied the Queen of Thorns defensively.

“And House Tallhart paid for every ounce of goods in perfumes and batches of soap of unique quality, my lady…” Bloody Snow.

“Between the ships and men lost in pirate raids and storms, we could have saved a fortune by reselling the provisions to other, more needy and far less distant Houses,” the Queen of Thorns.

“Of course, it would have been cheaper if you hadn’t resold those perfumes to the thousands of noble maidens looking for husbands all over Westeros and Essos. And at what price?… an average of seven to eight times their purchase value? I have excellent accountants in my employ, Lady Olenna.

In the past four years, House Tyrell, only from the perfume and soap trade, has averaged a monthly profit of over 40,000 gold dragons. Gold coins that you have reinvested by buying and reselling products from many other Houses of the North throughout the Reach; enough to make a fortune.

At this rate, in less than ten years, you will undermine House Lannister as the richest House in Westeros. So do not come to me with talk of a lack of show of trust, Lady Olenna.” Bloody Snow.

“What’s the point of amassing gold and riches if we’re just going to squander it on a costly and bleeding civil war? Dorne and The Reach have been at each other’s throats in skirmishes and raids for centuries. And when Aegon VI returns with 50,000 well-equipped and fed Dornish spears, rest assured that the first fortress he will besiege on his march to the Throne will be Highgarden.” Said Olenna, then continued with:

“I admit I could not find good spies in your lands, boy, but in a city like Sunspear? Nevertheless, rumours have reached my ears, rumours of a certain northern boy who has forged excellent bonds of friendship with Prince Oberyn Martell… Do you deny that you have forged such a relationship with the man who crippled my grandson?” For a moment, Olenna thought she had managed to touch a nerve, but the predator’s gaze became more irritated than pained.

“… If you want play, let us play, my lady.

I have been discussing the events of that tragic tournament with Prince Oberyn, and according to him, the event, which your son Mace goes on to parade as a war memorial to all the Seven Kingdoms, was nothing more than a regrettable accident… Lord Mace Tyrell forced his son, a novice squire of only thirteen, to put on a show of brilliance in his first joust in a tournament of gold-hungry Wolves and Hounds.

Willas himself bore no resentment towards his opponent, who regularly unseated him from his horse. Prince Oberyn even attempted to get expert cerusicians from Volantis to Highgarden as a gesture of peace and goodwill. That gives me reflect…” Olenna inwardly reproached herself. Perhaps the woman had overexposed herself… The Queen of Thorns raised all her defences, trying to maintain the most credible indignant look she could muster.

“Reflect on what?! My grandson will be forced to walk with the help of a cane for the rest of his days!” Roared the woman with conviction.

“Reflect on a possible political move by House Tyrell,” the boy blurted out without the slightest modesty, shushing Olenna on the spot.

“If I had such a brilliant and dedicated grandson as Willas, I wouldn’t want the boy wasting his talents on weapons and battlefields. Where peasants go to die and not nobles with ample skills of government… Every mother would never want to see her son go off to that hell. A fall from a horse, a stray arrow, a simple sword strike and “Pff”… Game Over. House Tyrell would lose the most promising heir to the green Throne in the last three generations.

If only there was a way to unleash the fiery impulses that every glory-seeking youth makes in dangerous and unpredictable situations.” Olenna felt the vein shoot out of her forehead in anger.

“What are you alluding to?! Do you really think I would ever purposely harm my family?!” Roared the Queen of Thorns.

“I am not alluding to that, my lady. I am merely saying that what has happened to Willas is a blessing in disguise in more ways than one.” Said the demon, making the woman’s eyes widen.

“Since the dawn of Aegon the Conqueror’s reign, House Tyrell has always been a significant supporter of House Targaryen. Unfortunately, you were the last to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon after his victory at the Trident, and that did not put Highgarden in a good light in the eyes of the new King…

It would take years of steadfast display of loyalty, a royal wedding to reverse the unfavourable situation or… an opportunity.

And what better demonstration of loyalty than an open enemy in common? Therefore, it would be wise for House Tyrell to magnify any friction with the Baratheon/Lannister Kingdom enemy.

But… in my personal opinion, I believe the true mastermind behind Highgarden has chosen this path for much more than that… Need I continue?” Olenna felt a long shiver run down her entire spine… The Crimson Demon had sensed her every move.

In fact, Her Grandson’s accident, though unintended, was a golden opportunity for the House of Tyrell. Her Willas could have focused on learning the art of ruling, leaving it to the other pawns on the chessboard to lead the armies in other possible future wars. Should she be recalled by the Stranger, Willas would be the future pillar regent of House Tyrell.

The Rose would wither away in less than a season if the House was in the hands of heirs such as her son Mace… It was an undeniable truth for all the lords of the Reach who had come to know better the foolish and naive Lord Paramount of the South.

As for the Martell matter… House Tyrell needed to get into the good graces of the current Kingdom. Even if her son had pushed to support the return of Aegon VI, offering the hand of her daughter as a possible future queen, Highgarden could not risk openly siding with a faction in such immature and uncertain times…

Too many players were at stake, and many revolutionary events were twisting the Known World too quickly.

Bloody Snow & and the new era of the Green Knights, the long-awaited return of Aegon VI, Khal Drogo & the unification of the great Khalasar, whispers of a revolutionary Septon nicknamed High Sparrow, and now even the fearsome Titan of Braavos would take the field against a likely new contender…

“No, I do not wish you to elaborate, my lord,” Olenna replied dryly and more condescendingly.

“Good… So. I have come to you, my lady, because I need your cooperation.” Announced Duncan Tallhart.

“Of my cooperation? And how might I be of assistance to you, Ser? But, more importantly, what would my House get in return?” Olenna asked with considerable interest.

“My gratitude, for starters. A miraculous healer who, over time and gradually, will allow your grandson to regain much of the functionality of his leg, enough to ride, but not enough to spur him on to the merry-go-round again…”

Olenna was about to stand up and shout [“Can you really help my Willas?!”]. Over the last few months, dozens of the best healers in Westeros and Essos came to Highgarden only to break her boy’s last hopes. Not even Archmaester Embrose, the citadel’s best healer, sent to help Willas by his grandfather, Lord Leyton Hightower, was able to do anything meaningful…

Olenna even considered asking for help from that Septon who, according to the Trident and the Vale rumours, was spewing divine miracles to the people of all the villages and towns where he had stopped during his pilgrimage.

The retinue of worshippers, called ‘sparrows’, ready to follow and defend their guide to the last breath, was becoming more numerous every day…

But the woman held back. Bloody Snow was not yet finished…

“Prosperity and wealth for House Tyrell, excellent marriage proposals for Willas and Margaery, who will seal equally excellent political alliances, and… Damascus Steel.” The Old Rose’s spines quivered with excitement, but Olenna maintained control by asking in response, “How much Steel? And what parties would be considered excellent for the heir of Highgarden and the most dazzling Rose in the south?”

“How much Steel will depend on how willing you are to play your part, my lady. As for marriage proposals, for the sake of your family, these will remain unknown at the moment. You will have to be content with my word…” Olenna felt the urge to get up and slap the devilish brat’s face to purple mush.

Now the poor woman would spend sleepless nights and several headaches trying to figure out which parties Bloody Snow was referring to!

“Tsz!… Damn the demons that weaned you, boy!” Olenna blurted out, clucking her tongue.

“So you accept?” Bloody Snow.

“Depends on what you ask in return…” The Queen of Thorns.

“Oh, nothing you cannot afford, my lady. You have my word.

Now that summer is here, the fertile fields of the Reach will produce vast quantities of grain. House Tallhart will reveal to Highgarden some of the secrets shared with House Cerwyn, increasing, at the very least, your production by 80%. I wish all that surplus wheat, barley, and rye to be sold, at a fair and unchanged price, for the duration of the summer, exclusively to Lady Barbrey Mormont…” Olenna was interjected by the first request.

“I do not doubt that you have the means to increase the yield from our fields, my lord, but all the surplus? From the Tyrell fields alone, we produce-”

“Almost 10,000,000 bushels* of wheat per year. Yes, I am aware of that.” The boy knew his way around numbers and estimates…

‘Buying such an amount of wheat and grain at the dawn of summer?!… For what purpose? That they have a method of storing supplies for longer? But even if they did, the price of the accumulated grain would lose value with each summer semester… Unless…’ The woman thought with a clear head, accepting the first request with a nod, then asking:

“Any other requests?”

“Only one… Tonight, a demonstration and grand opening will be set up, and after that, an Auction will follow.

I ask that, during the Auction, House Tyrell highlight some of Highgarden’s prosperity, rivalling that of Casterly Rock.”

*****

End Part I.

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[Author’s Note: 1 bushel = 60 pounds (approx. 27 kg)]