Chapter 13

Forging the Banner of Mudd

The morning after Lord Pemford's execution, the atmosphere at Hammerford was palpably different. The oppressive shadow that had lingered over the castle and its lands seemed to lift, replaced by a cautious optimism. Hosteen Mudd stood on the balcony of the solar, gazing out at the rolling hills and forests of his new domain. This was not the seat he had envisioned when he first thought of reclaiming his house's honor, but it was a beginning.

The Hammerford, though modest by castle standards, was sturdy and strategically positioned. It was a far cry from the grand vision he had for Oldstones, but it would suffice for now. However, the true work lay ahead—solidifying his rule, making his name known to the people, and laying the groundwork for a return to his ancestral home.

Hosteen spent the first hours of the day drafting letters to the village leaders and elders scattered throughout the lands now under his care. The letters were formal but approachable, introducing himself as the new Lord of Hammerford and Hook Bay, sanctioned by Lord Mallister himself.

He wrote of his commitment to justice, fairness, and the protection of the people, emphasizing that the tyranny of Pemford's rule was at an end. The tone was deliberate—neither haughty nor overly familiar. Hosteen knew the villagers would judge him not just by his words but by his actions.

Adden helped him review the letters, ensuring they struck the right balance. "You'll need to visit these villages in person soon," Adden advised. "Letters are fine for now, but the people will want to see their lord."

Hosteen nodded. "I'll visit them once the initial preparations are made. For now, these letters will pave the way."

With the letters sealed and entrusted to messengers, Hosteen turned his attention to a more personal matter—Oldstones. The ancient castle, once the seat of House Mudd, lay in ruins. Restoring it to its former glory would be a monumental task, requiring wealth, manpower, and time.

He unrolled an old map of the region, marking the location of Oldstones with a small stone. His mind raced with possibilities. The castle would need stonemasons, carpenters, and engineers. The lands around it would need to be cultivated to support its restoration and future garrison.

But before any of that, he needed to solidify his position as the Lord of Hammerford. A strong base here would provide the resources and stability required to begin rebuilding Oldstones.

Later that afternoon, Hosteen began drafting a letter to the Iron Bank in Braavos. The Iron Bank, known for its reach and influence, was a critical ally in securing the artisans and smiths he would need. The letter was precise, outlining his requirements: skilled blacksmiths to craft armor bearing the sigil of House Mudd, weavers to create banners, and artisans to forge the symbols of his house's resurgence.

He detailed his willingness to pay well for their services, assuring the bank that this was not a frivolous request but an investment in the stability of the region. The letter bore the seals of the Iron Bank and house Mudd, both emblems of legitimacy that had been given to him by the Bank and would ensure its swift delivery and attention.

Once completed, Hosteen called for Tomlin. The young man, eager and loyal, had quickly become one of Hosteen's trusted companions.

"Tomlin," Hosteen said, handing him the sealed letters, "these must be delivered to Braavos. You'll take a small retinue of guards—men provided by House Mallister—and ensure these instructions reach the Iron Bank. This is a delicate matter, and I trust you to handle it with care."

Tomlin's chest swelled with pride. "You can count on me, my lord. I'll see it done."

Hosteen clasped his shoulder. "I know you will. And Tomlin—be cautious. The seas are treacherous, and these are uncertain times."

Tomlin nodded, his expression solemn.

With the letters dispatched, Hosteen finally allowed himself a moment of reflection. He stood once more on the balcony, the crisp evening air carrying the distant sounds of the castle courtyard below.

Hammerford's banners, still bearing the sigil of House Pemford, fluttered in the breeze. That would soon change. The crowned green hand of House Mudd would rise again, a symbol of resilience and justice.

But the weight of leadership bore heavily on him. The people would look to him not just for protection but for prosperity. He would need to balance their immediate needs with the long-term vision of restoring Oldstones.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Hosteen resolved to begin his new role with humility and determination. Hammerford might not have been his first choice, but it was the foundation upon which he would rebuild his house's legacy.

The sun rose slowly over Hammerford, casting its golden light on the gray stone walls of the castle. Inside, the air buzzed with subdued activity, the lingering tension of Pemford's rule not yet fully dissipated. Hosteen Mudd, newly installed as lord, rose early, his mind already alight with the tasks of the day.

He made his way to the kitchens, where the staff were just beginning their morning routines. They froze when he entered, startled to see the new lord among them so early. Hosteen offered a polite nod, observing the way their eyes flitted nervously as they worked. It was a reminder that trust would take time to build.

"Something simple," he said to the head cook, who scrambled to prepare a modest breakfast of bread, cheese, and dried fruit.

As the food was placed before him, Hosteen discreetly performed a spell to check for poisons. It was a precaution borne of caution rather than fear—he didn't believe anyone would dare such a bold move so soon, but vigilance was essential. Satisfied, he ate quickly and returned to his solar to begin the day's work.

The first task on Hosteen's list was addressing a critical concern: ensuring the loyalty of the castle's inhabitants. While most of the staff and guards had likely served Pemford out of obligation rather than true allegiance, there was no guarantee that none harbored lingering loyalties. A single act of sabotage or betrayal could cause chaos, and Hosteen had no intention of allowing that to happen.

He decided to reinforce his position through magic. His first step was modifying the lie-detection ward he had previously used. This time, the ward would be permanent and keyed specifically to detect lies directed at him. The runes were carefully inscribed in inconspicuous places throughout the castle, forming an intricate web of magic that would activate whenever someone spoke falsehoods to him.

The process took several hours. Hosteen moved methodically through the castle, from the great hall to the barracks, ensuring no corner was overlooked. The act of casting was labor-intensive, each rune requiring precision and focus. By the time he finished, the castle was imbued with a subtle but unyielding force that would root out deceit.

The next ward was one of personal protection. Hosteen knew that his position would draw enemies, both within and beyond his domain. He had already seen how far greed and ambition could drive men like Pemford. To safeguard himself, he inscribed a ward that would shield his body from harm, making it impossible for anyone within the castle to harm him with malicious intent.

But Hosteen's protection didn't end with himself. He extended the ward to include Adden and Tomlin, the two men he trusted most. Adden had proven his loyalty time and again, and while Tomlin was currently away on a mission to Braavos, Hosteen wanted to ensure his safety upon his return.

The ward required a more complex network of runes than the lie-detection spell. It was layered, designed to react only to genuine malice rather than accidental harm. Hosteen took special care to anchor the spell in places of strength within the castle: the main gate, the keep's foundation, and the hearth of the great hall.

With the wards for loyalty and protection in place, Hosteen turned his attention to the castle itself. Hammerford was an old structure, and while it was still solid, time and the elements had taken their toll. Hosteen wanted to ensure that his new seat of power remained strong for years to come.

The anti-decay ward was the answer. This spell would slow the natural wear and tear of the castle, preserving the stone and wood from the ravages of time. Hosteen worked his way around the outer walls, the towers, and the keep, inscribing the runes in hidden places where they would be protected from tampering.

The magic settled into the castle like a deep breath, a subtle hum of energy that infused the walls with resilience. Hosteen allowed himself a moment of satisfaction as he finished the last rune, knowing that Hammerford would stand firm against both time and weather.

With the physical and magical security of the castle addressed, Hosteen turned his attention to diplomacy. He sat at his desk in the solar and began composing a letter to Lord Blackwood of Raventree Hall.

House Blackwood, one of the oldest houses in the Riverlands, was known for its deep connection to the old gods. Hosteen remembered stories of their massive heart tree, its ancient roots stretching deep into the earth. A sapling from such a tree would be a powerful symbol of his commitment to the old ways and his intent to restore the honor of House Mudd.

To Lord Tytos Blackwood of Raventree Hall,

From Lord Hosteen Mudd of Hammerford and Hook Bay,

My lord,

I write to you as one who shares your reverence for the old gods and the traditions they represent. Recent events have seen me restored to a position of leadership within the Riverlands, a small but vital step toward reclaiming the legacy of my ancestors.

As I begin this journey, I find myself drawn to the symbols and customs of the past. I humbly request a sapling from your esteemed heart tree, that I might plant it at Hammerford as a testament to the old gods and the unity of our houses.

In return, I offer my friendship and alliance with my house as it existed over 6000 years ago, should you ever have need of aid in these uncertain times. I believe that together, we can ensure the traditions of our forebears endure for generations to come.

With respect and hope,

Lord Hosteen Mudd

Hosteen sealed the letter with wax and pressed the emblem of House Mudd into it. He summoned a rider to deliver the letter to Raventree Hall, instructing him to emphasize the importance of the request.

The letter to Lord Blackwood sealed and dispatched, Hosteen Mudd leaned back in his chair, the flickering light of the solar's hearth casting long shadows over the room.

Now he turned his attention to the stack of documents piled high on the desk. These were the records of Lord Pemford's administration, hastily compiled and delivered to him upon assuming control. The first set of papers caught his attention: tax records. He had heard rumors of Pemford's greed, and seen what he would do for it, but seeing the numbers laid out so plainly was staggering.

The taxes under Pemford were set at two gold dragons per village per moon. Hammerford's domain included thirteen villages, which meant 26 gold dragons were collected monthly, amounting to 312 gold dragons annually. Of this, only 180 gold dragons were paid to House Mallister as taxes, leaving a surplus of 132 gold dragons each year. That wealth had clearly not been spent on the welfare of the people, as the state of the villages and the castle itself attested.

Hosteen's brows furrowed as he ran his fingers through his dark hair. He flipped to a new set of documents that detailed the income and trade potential of Hook Bay, the newly acquired territory. Its proximity to the sea and Seaguard had added doubled the number of villages under his rule, adding another twenty-six settlements to his domain.

If the same two-gold-dragon tax were applied to Hook Bay, Hosteen calculated, he would bring in an additional 52 gold dragons per moon, amounting to 624 annually. Combined with Hammerford's income, this would total 936 gold dragons a year. Of that, 540 would go to House Mallister as his feudal dues, leaving him with a substantial profit.

But this was a theoretical profit, and Hosteen knew better than to rely on such numbers. The villages had suffered under Pemford's heavy-handed rule, their people overtaxed and struggling. A fairer tax policy was not just a moral obligation but a pragmatic necessity to foster goodwill and stability in his newly expanded domain.

Hosteen summoned Adden to his solar, seeking counsel from the man he trusted most. Adden arrived promptly, his expression neutral but his eyes sharp as he took a seat across from Hosteen.

"Adden," Hosteen began, "I've been reviewing the tax records left by Pemford. His rates were exorbitant—two gold dragons per village per moon. With Hook Bay added to my domain, I'll need to submit 540 gold dragons annually to House Mallister. At Pemford's rate, I'd still turn a significant profit, but that rate isn't sustainable. The villages are already strained."

Adden nodded thoughtfully, folding his arms across his chest. "Aye, my lord. Pemford's greed bled the people dry. If you maintain his rates, you'll have unrest on your hands before the next harvest. But if you lower them too much, you risk falling short on your obligations to House Mallister."

Hosteen tapped the quill against the edge of the desk, considering the numbers again. "What if we reduce it to one gold dragon per village per moon? That would ease the burden on the villagers while still providing enough revenue to cover most of my obligations and maintain the lands."

Adden rubbed his chin, his eyes narrowing in thought. "That's a fair rate, my lord. One gold dragon per moon is manageable for most villages, even those recovering from Pemford's mismanagement. It also sends a message—that you are not Pemford, and that you care for their welfare."

Hosteen nodded, the decision solidifying in his mind. He pulled out a fresh sheet of parchment and began drafting his taxation policy. The language was direct but respectful, outlining the new rate and the expectations for timely payments. He made sure to include a clause about his willingness to hear grievances personally, signaling his commitment to fairness and transparency.

When the draft was complete, he handed it to Adden for review. The older man read it carefully, nodding in approval. "This is good, my lord. The people will respect you for this."

Hosteen affixed his seal to the document, the image of a crowned green hand pressing firmly into the soft wax. Copies would be made and sent to each village within his domain, ensuring that every elder and steward understood the new policy.

As the final documents were set aside, Hosteen leaned back in his chair, staring at the embers glowing faintly in the hearth. The room was silent, save for the crackle of the fire and the faint rustling of parchment.

This was the work of a lord—not the glory of battle or the grandeur of courtly ceremonies, but the unyielding grind of governance. Numbers, decisions, and compromises. The weight of so many lives depending on him felt almost crushing, but it was a burden he would embrace.