Chapter 9.1 The "Tyrells"

Wolfgang Dustin was already tired of having experienced the same thing so many times. His gaze was straight on the great main avenue of Barrowton, guarded by several soldiers with erect and immaculate postures.

Today was the day Wolfgang would receive House Tyrell, so he was prepared to receive such a house, however, as he saw the approaching delegation, a huge frown appeared on his face.

"My Lord" whispered Qyburn to the side. 

Amon and his Gestapo were currently in Barrowdock, still continuing to clean up the city. Barbrey Dustin was also in the same place, only, with much more administrative duties, and the rest of Wolfgang's subordinates, such as Hubert or Ander, were also performing their duties. Only Qyburn and Ser Morrent were currently with Lord Dustin.

"That doesn't seem to be the crest of House Tyrell."

"I know the obvious, Qyburn. That certainly doesn't look like a yellow rose in the middle of a green field."

"Though green and yellow it contains," Qyburn commented with a chuckle.

"In fact, only reversed. The background is the yellow, and the rose...no, it's not a rose now that I see it better."

"It's an apple. A green apple. Do you know to which house such a crest belongs, my lord?"

"House Fossoway, though I'm not sure which."

"It's Fossoway House of New Barrel. The Cider Hall ones have a red apple, though the background is equally yellow."

The Fossoway House is an ancient noble house of First Men Hero Era origin. The Fossoways claim descent from Foss the Archer, a son of Garth Greenhand famous for shooting apples at the head of any maiden he was attracted to, but this House Fossoway is not the one Wolfgang had in front of him. The carriage bore the banner of what was a rather secondary branch of the Fossoway's, which only added to Wolfgang's distaste in this situation.

"Apparently House Tyrell is too important to show up in person in these wastelands of the North" Ser Morrent commented sarcastically, but he also clenched his tarnish tightly.

"We should not speak before our time" Qyburn added. "We don't know what surprises await inside that carriage. Let's wait to see what's inside."

The origin of this branch of House Fossoway dates back to 209 AD, when Raymun Fossoway participated in the Ashford Meadow tournament. Raymun took a different side from his cousin, Ser Steffon, the heir of Cider Hall, in a sevens trial at Ashford. Raymun, who was knighted minutes before the battle by Lyonel Baratheon, Lord of Storm's End, fought for his friend. Ser Duncan the Tall. 

To differentiate himself from his cousin fighting for the other side, Raymun painted the apple on his shield green, playing on Steffon's oft-repeated joke that he was "still green." Raymun claimed that he would rather be green than rotten.

The carriage finally stopped, and two people got out of it.

"It seems my words were the hasty ones," commented Qyburn, seeing that only members of House Fossoway exited from inside the carriage.

First to exit was Janna Fossoway, formerly known as Janna Tyrell, daughter of Olenna Tyrell and sister of Mace Tyrell. Who followed was her husband, Jon Fossoway, a man with a goatee beard, no mustache, and rather bushy dark hair.

Upon seeing Wolfgang the duo walked directly to his position, and nodded their heads in greeting.

"Wolfgang Dustin."

"Lord Dustin to you" commented Ser Morrent from the side.

"Oh, my mistake" the man commented comically. His eyes fixed on the young man.

"I was expecting the Tyrells, they sent the letter after all."

"I'm afraid no one from the Tyrells was available, but Lady Olenna sends me on their behalf, so I hope to represent their interests to the fullest."

Wolfgang seeing Fossoway's attitude had a lousy feeling, and a really scary hypothesis crossed his thoughts.

"Then it is a pleasure to receive you, Lord Fossoway" smiled Wolfgang, and looked at Ser Morrent. "Guide our guests to the hall, I'm afraid I have urgent duties right now, but I'll be there as soon as possible."

"No problem Lord Dustin, we Fossoway's are patient people" Jon replied, but his thoughts were very different. 'Insolent brat, do you think you are on our same level as to make such slights?'

'Glad to hear it.'

The group entered, but parted their ways. Qyburn, his tone full of doubt, asked Wolfgang a question.

'What are these duties of which I have no knowledge?'

"Unforeseen duties."

"You also have your suspicions?".

"I do. Olenna Tyrell is a very intelligent woman, if she wants our methods of cultivation she should have come herself at the very least, or shown at least as much respect as possible, even shown submission."

"But their actions have proved quite the contrary."

"That alone means that the Tyrells did not come for the method to improve their crops, but for other reasons, or they would not have shown such discourtesy and defiance." 

"The question is what could be more important than such a method?" commented Qyburn. "Gold perhaps?"

"No, certainly not. Such methods for The Reach are more valuable than any treasure, for the would greatly increase their production considerably above demand. Any surplus they could sell in Essos."

"So..." muttered Qyburn, but the next moment his eyes widened grimly.

"Yes, what you're thinking is what I was referring to, it's the only possibility why the Tyrells, or their representatives, would come with different motives."

"So what can we do in the face of such a situation?".

"To avoid it we can do nothing, it is a great harm, but we can try to benefit as much as possible from such harm. I am going to write letters, quite a few. I want you, if our hypothesis is proven, to send them all without fail, before it is too late."

"Understood, I'll keep an eye out for the meeting then" Qyburn replied, and Wolfgang set to work while inwardly cursing the Tyrells.

All the Houses of the North, those of The Riverlands, especially the Tullys, and the odd House in the rest of Westeros. Even some belonging to The Reach.

With the letters already written, Wolfgang started walking in the direction of the foyer, where his guests were already waiting for him.

"That was pretty quick," commented Janna Fossoway.

"He's young yet, he must not have too many duties" whispered Jon to his wife, causing them both to laugh. Wolfgang listened to his comments, which only made his annoyance increase.

'Should I draw a sword and take their heads here simply?'

'By the way, Lord Dustin. There is a basic courtesy, which may not be done in the North, but is very common in the South."

"Oh, enlighten me, Lord Fossoway."

"It's bread and salt. I'm afraid we don't get the bread and salt yet."

"And I fear we have no more bread and salt. We have just run out. A shipment should be arriving soon from White Harbor" smiled Wolfgang, but his smile sent a nervous feeling coursing through the Fossoway's body.

'No, he wouldn't be stupid enough to try something here and make enemies of all The Reach' the man thought, his nerves returning to normal.

'So what do the Tyrells want to talk to the Dustin's about?

"Lady Olenna wants to make a deal with the Dustin."

"And what would that deal be?"

"We want to start buying gold from them, and distribute it on the west coast of Westeros."

"I'm afraid we've already finished our surplus. We don't have enough production for such a task."

"Oh, that's not a problem. House Tyrell has incentive enough for you to accept the proposal" smiled Fossoway, to which Wolfgang gave a long sigh, and walked over to one of the tables in the great room, where a small golden bell rested.

With a soft, melodic motion, Wolfgang rang the bell.

"What's that for?"

"Oh, I just like the sound of it, it helps me relax" Wolfgang replied, but out of the corner of his eye he glanced towards the door. Soft footsteps were heard from the other side; someone listening to the conversation was no longer present.

"So, what do you say?"

"I thought you might be interested in the cultivation methods of Dustin House."

"Oh, I'm afraid that doesn't interest House Tyrell," smiled Fossoway as he waved his hand. "Such technology is not difficult for our specialists to use."

'Bullshit' thought Wolfgang, but he didn't let such words materialize on his face. 'But that only confirms my suspicions. Such methods filtered down to the Tyrells'.

'So what do you say?

'It would seem to me too hasty to give an answer just yet.'

"Look here child," Fossoway commented, his tone becoming much more serious. "In case you don't understand yet, if you don't make this deal with us a raven will fly to every castle in the North offering new and much more generous offers of wheat and all manner of crops. In exchange for such offers, we would turn the entire North against you."

"Oh, that's a bold strategy."

"I don't care what term you want to coin it brat, just say yes. We won't pay a bad price, it won't be much profit, but at least you won't lose money. You should be grateful that Lady Olenna proposed such generous terms."

"So that old hag is responsible" Wolfgang muttered with a chuckle.

"Don't disrespect my mother!" rose from her seat and shouted Janna Fossoway.

"Or what?" was Wolfgang's reply, and he looked coldly into Janna's eyes. "House Dustin rejects House Fossoway's offer, so I invite you to leave the lands of House Dustin and return to your meadows full of faggots and priests with gold rings."

"Are you sure of your decision child? Once I walk out those gates House Tyrell will show no mercy."

"They never did."

After the situation, the Fossoway couple left in indignation towards their carriage, which was waiting for them at the exit, however, they were surprised when they saw that, behind a cordon of guards surrounding the main street, a large crowd of people was gathering; thousands of people.

"What is it now?" whispered Jon Fossoway, but he couldn't continue speaking because a tomato fell on him, impacting his chest and staining his suit. "That bastard! Who dares!" shouted the man, while the guards escorting them drew their weapons, but it was impossible to identify the culprit in the crowd.

Gradually everyone became more animated, and more objects began to rain down on the couple, causing them to have to retreat inside the chariot. The Dustin's guards did not seem to do anything to control the crowd, they only prevented them from passing into the great avenue, but not because of the Fossoway's, far from it, but to prevent the enemy's guards from doing anything. In the same way that they prevented the crowd from advancing, they also prevented the reprisals of the soldiers under House Fossoway.

Despite the fright of being surrounded before a hostile crowd, the Fossoways and their guards could hear it, the shouts of the villagers.

"Damned Ándalos! Thieving scum!"

"Ándala scum! Savages!"

Many such shouts were heard everywhere, and more than hatred, the people looked at them with pure disgust. The guards had never felt that way before, it was as if they were Dothraki savages entering a royal court. They felt discriminated against as mere commoners, when most of them had at least one knight in their ancestry.

But the villagers were not looking at their status or anything else, they were looking at their blood; their andala blood.

In the end the group could only retreat quickly, with their tails between their legs and a heavy walk; burdened by such humiliation.

"That was a funny scene" commented Wolfgang, still watching the carriage move off into the distance; it would take them several minutes to get out of the great city that was Barrowton.

"It was."

"Did you send all the letters?".

"I did, so now... all of Westeros will increase its crop production."

"That's right. with this not only surplus, but even much of the grain the Tyrells and The Reach produce will now rot in their cellars. who needs their grain when they can produce their own?"

"It's a hard blow to all of The Reach. No Lord will be happy."

"I've become an expert at that lately, picking on Southern Lords."

"So it would seem."

"But no problem, in the end, sooner or later, they will all be our enemy. The Reach is too powerful, if I can weaken him a bit now it will be easier to get him killed with the Lannisters, Baratheon or some other great house."

"Is there a plan formulating in your mind already?"

"Something like that" Wolfgang smiled, and already returned to his office; he still had many duties to fulfill.