Chapter 15

A New Dawn for House Mudd

5th-7th Moon 277 AC.

Three weeks after the arrival of Lord Brynden Blackwood's letter, the atmosphere at Hammerford shifted dramatically with Tomlin's triumphant return. His journey had taken him across the Narrow Sea to Braavos, where the Iron Bank had facilitated the hiring of artisans, craftsmen, and laborers of remarkable skill. Among the arrivals were blacksmiths, carpenters, engineers, and artisans of all types—fifty in total—each bringing their unique expertise to breathe new life into the castle and its surroundings.

The once-dull and weathered halls of Hammerford began to glow with the light of renewed purpose. Tomlin's arrival was met with cheers from the few villagers nearby, their faces alight with hope for what these skilled hands would bring. Hosteen, standing at the gates as the procession of wagons, tools, and workers rolled in, felt a flicker of pride. House Mudd, long buried in the annals of history, was beginning to rise again.

The artisans quickly set to work, dividing their efforts between repairing the castle's structural deficiencies and adorning its halls with fresh furnishings. The blacksmiths fired up their forges, the rhythmic clang of hammers echoing through the courtyard. Old, dented armor and weapons were collected from storage and reforged. Each piece bore the sigil of House Mudd—a golden crown with emeralds at its base, the glinting gems a nod to the rivers and verdant lands of their ancient domain.

Carpenters focused on crafting tables, chairs, and other essential furniture, inspired by a blend of First Men and Andal artistry. While runes of the First Men were carved into sturdy beams and tabletops, subtle Andal heraldry was incorporated as well, reflecting the cultural blend of the Riverlands. The flowing rivers that once defined the lands of Oldstones became a recurring motif, symbolizing continuity, strength, and the passage of time.

Engineers assessed the castle's fortifications and ensured that the walls, towers, and gates were sound. Though the repairs were utilitarian, focusing on Hammerford's longevity as a temporary seat of power, there was an undeniable beauty to their craftsmanship. The artisans worked tirelessly, imbuing the space with life and pride.

As the weeks went on, the soldiers of House Mudd became a focal point for the castle's transformation. They trained tirelessly in the yard, their ragged tunics and mismatched armor soon replaced by gleaming new gear. Every man now wore a uniform proudly displaying the sigil of House Mudd, and their shields bore the same golden crown with emeralds.

The transformation wasn't merely physical. The soldiers trained under new leadership, honing their skills with the discipline of a revitalized army. Hosteen himself took to the yard regularly, fighting alongside his men. Though many were inexperienced in combat, the spirit of camaraderie and shared purpose was infectious. These would no longer be just castle guards or local militiamen; they would be the vanguard of a reborn house.

In the evenings, the soldiers and villagers alike would gather to watch the artisans work. The sight of blacksmiths tempering steel and carpenters carving intricate designs inspired a sense of unity and purpose. Even the children, who had once played in the dusty streets outside the castle walls, now watched with wide eyes, dreaming of the future House Mudd promised.

Inside the castle, the changes were just as dramatic. The great hall, once dark and austere, was transformed into a space of subtle elegance. Newly upholstered banners hung from the walls, the sigil of House Mudd flanked by intricate carvings of rivers and flowing water. Runes of the First Men adorned the supporting beams, invoking the strength and wisdom of ancient kings.

The furniture was solid and unpretentious, designed to last for generations. Tables bore polished surfaces, their edges carved with patterns of interwoven waves. Chairs were adorned with motifs of crowns and emeralds, while smaller details—such as drawer handles shaped like river stones—gave the room a touch of understated artistry.

Hosteen's solar, too, underwent a transformation. It now reflected the dignity of a lord's seat, with maps of the Riverlands spread across a newly crafted desk. Shelves were filled with books and ledgers, while a small collection of artifacts from the time of House Mudd's height served as reminders of the house's storied past.

Out in the yard, the sound of swords clashing and boots striking the dirt was constant. Training sessions were rigorous, overseen by a grizzled old master-at-arms who had served under House Mallister. His stern demeanor and biting wit earned him both fear and respect among the men.

Hosteen was a frequent participant in these sessions. He wielded his sword with the precision of a seasoned fighter, though his style was uniquely his own, blending the brute strength of the First Men with the cunning adaptability of a modern warrior. His presence inspired the soldiers, who saw in him a leader willing to fight alongside them rather than command from the safety of a high tower.

The men began to bond as brothers, united by the sigil they bore and the ideals they now served. Stories of Oldstones' glory days were told around the fire at night, kindling a pride that had long been absent in these lands. The soldiers, once disparate and demoralized, were beginning to see themselves as part of something far greater.

With the castle repaired and the soldiers equipped, Hosteen turned his attention to the broader task of governance. Adden, now serving as castellan, proved invaluable in managing the day-to-day affairs of Hammerford and its surrounding lands. Together, they drafted plans for fair taxation, the rebuilding of infrastructure, and the establishment of trade routes.

Tomlin, too, proved his worth. The young man's charisma and sharp mind made him an effective envoy, and he began forging connections with nearby villages and lords. The promise of stability under House Mudd's leadership was beginning to take root, and the people of the region slowly started to place their trust in their new lord.

By the end of the nest 3 weeks, the transformation was complete. Hammerford, once a symbol of decay and neglect, now stood as a testament to what determination and vision could achieve. The castle wasn't Oldstones, and it never would be—but it was enough, for now.

As Hosteen stood on the battlements, looking out over his lands, he felt a swell of pride. The banners of House Mudd fluttered in the breeze, their golden crowns and emeralds gleaming in the sunlight. Below, the soldiers drilled, their armor catching the light. Inside the castle, the halls were alive with activity, the hum of industry and purpose filling the air.

But the transformation of Hammerford into a functioning seat of power was only the first step in Hosteen's grand vision. With the castle repaired and his soldiers equipped, Hosteen turned his attention outward, toward the villages under his domain. These communities, which had long suffered under the oppressive rule of Lord Pemford, were in desperate need of aid and inspiration. Hosteen understood that the loyalty of the people would not come solely through decrees or lowered taxes—it would be earned through tangible improvements in their lives.

In the weeks following the castle's restoration, Hosteen convened a meeting in his solar. Present were Adden, his castellan; Tomlin, his trusted envoy; and the master carpenter and blacksmith who had come with the artisans from Braavos. Hosteen outlined his plan to extend the benefits of skilled labor to the villages surrounding Hammerford.

"We have the tools, the knowledge, and the hands to make a difference," Hosteen said, spreading a map of his domain across the table. "Each of these villages has struggled under Pemford's greed. They need more than a new lord—they need the means to thrive. We will equip them with what they need to rebuild their lives."

Adden nodded, his expression thoughtful. "You're speaking of the tools you crafted for Gravesham, aren't you?"

"Exactly," Hosteen replied. "The plows, the seed drills, the irrigation systems—every tool that allowed Gravesham to reclaim its fields and grow beyond what was thought possible. If we can replicate that success here, these villages will not only survive but prosper."

The blacksmith, a burly man named Dural, grinned. "We've the skill and the manpower to do it, my lord. And if the villagers pitch in, it'll go even faster."

Within days, teams of carpenters, blacksmiths, and artisans were dispatched to the villages of Hosteen's domain. Each team carried blueprints, raw materials, and completed prototypes of tools designed to enhance agricultural efficiency and improve daily life.

In the village of Cragwood, where fields had lain fallow for years due to neglect, the artisans demonstrated the use of seed drills and advanced plows. Villagers gathered to watch as the teams assembled the tools and explained their operation. Skeptical at first, the farmers quickly realized the potential of these innovations as they saw the ease with which furrows were cut and seeds planted.

In Riverrow, where irrigation had always been a challenge due to the uneven terrain, engineers installed simple yet effective irrigation systems. Using water drawn from nearby streams, the systems ensured that even the most arid plots received adequate hydration.

The villagers were not mere bystanders in this process. Hosteen had instructed his men to involve the locals in every step, teaching them how to maintain and repair the tools. "These aren't gifts to be taken for granted," Hosteen told them during one of his visits. "They are investments in your future. Learn to care for them, and they will serve you well for generations."

Hosteen made a point of visiting as many villages as possible during this period, often arriving unannounced. His presence was a source of both excitement and unease at first; the villagers had grown used to lords who only appeared to collect taxes or enforce their will. But as Hosteen walked among them, speaking plainly and listening intently to their concerns, the people began to see him as a different kind of lord.

In one village, a farmer approached Hosteen hesitantly, holding a crude wooden plow. "My lord, this is all I've ever had," he said, his voice tinged with embarrassment.

Hosteen took the plow in his hands, examining it carefully. "You've made do with this for years, haven't you?" he asked.

The farmer nodded.

"Then you've done well," Hosteen said. "But we can do better." He called over one of the carpenters, who quickly set to work crafting a sturdier, more efficient plow. By the end of the day, the farmer was using his new tool to till his fields, his face alight with gratitude.

One evening, as Hosteen sat in the great hall of Hammerford, Adden approached with a stack of letters from the village leaders. "They're thanking you," Adden said, setting the letters on the table. "And pledging their loyalty. It seems your efforts have won them over."

Hosteen smiled, though his expression remained serious. "Loyalty earned through deeds is the only loyalty worth having," he said. "But this is only the beginning. The true test will come when we face adversity. For now, we celebrate our progress—but we must remain vigilant."

Though Hammerford was becoming a beacon of prosperity, Hosteen's heart remained set on Oldstones. The improvements to his domain were not just about survival; they were a foundation for the eventual restoration of his ancestral seat. The artisans who now crafted tools and repaired roads would one day build the walls and towers of Oldstones. The soldiers who trained in the yard would one day defend its gates.

As Hosteen looked out over the bustling courtyard of Hammerford, he allowed himself a moment of quiet satisfaction. The name of Mudd, once a memory, was becoming a symbol of hope. And though the path ahead would be long and fraught with challenges, he was determined to see it through.

At the end of the two moons after he received Lord Blackwood's invitation, on the night before his supposed ride to Raventree Hall, he was reading a raven he had received from King's Landing.

The parchment bore the unmistakable seal of the lion, a golden wax crest that denoted Tywin Lannister, Hand of the King and Lord of Casterly Rock. Hosteen broke the seal and unrolled the scroll, reading its contents carefully.

The message was terse, lacking the personalized touch one might expect from the Hand of the King. It detailed the capture of King Aerys II Targaryen by Lord Denys Darklyn of Duskendale, a rebellious vassal who had refused to pay taxes and defied royal commands. The letter was an open call to all Lords and Ladies of Westeros, summoning them to join the siege of Duskendale to rescue their King.

Hosteen leaned back in his chair, his fingers steepled beneath his chin. The situation was unprecedented. A king held hostage by a rebellious lord was not only a humiliation for the Iron Throne but also a rare opportunity for those ambitious enough to seize it. Besides the reward for rescuing the King would be substantial especially when the King had been held hostage for what the Letter described for two moons now.

"Adden," Hosteen called, his voice echoing in the chamber.

Moments later, his castellan entered. "My lord?"

"Send for Tomlin," Hosteen instructed. "And have the fastest rider prepared. I need a message sent to Raventree Hall immediately."

Hosteen took out a fresh sheet of parchment, dipping his quill into the inkwell. His hand moved swiftly but deliberately, the words forming with precision:

To the Honorable Lord Brynden Blackwood,

I trust this letter finds you well. I must, with regret, inform you that our planned meeting must be postponed due to urgent news from King's Landing. It has come to my attention that our King, Aerys II Targaryen, has been taken hostage by Lord Denys Darklyn of Duskendale.

The Hand of the King, Lord Tywin Lannister, has issued a call to arms for all able Lords and their banners to join him in laying siege to Duskendale and securing the release of His Grace.

While this matter delays our discussion, I wish to assure you that my request for a sapling remains sincere, and my intention to honor the Old Gods and the traditions of our shared heritage is unwavering. I hope this development does not cause undue inconvenience, and I trust you will understand the necessity of my actions.

Yours faithfully,

Hosteen Mudd

Lord of Hammerford and Oldstones

Once the letter was complete, Hosteen sat back and allowed himself a small smile. Then, placing his hand lightly over the parchment, he murmured the words of a compulsion spell. The magic flowed into the ink, subtle and undetectable to any but the most skilled practitioners. Its purpose was not coercion but rather a gentle nudge—a reassurance that his words would be received with goodwill and understanding.

He handed the sealed scroll to Tomlin, who had arrived promptly. "Take this to the rider," Hosteen said. "It must reach Raventree Hall without delay."

Tomlin gave a sharp nod and left with the letter.

As the evening progressed, Hosteen began making preparations for his journey to Duskendale. He saw the opportunity for what it was—a chance to prove himself on a larger stage. While his power and influence were growing within his domain, an act of service to the Iron Throne would solidify his position and garner him recognition across Westeros.

He called for a council of his senior retainers, including Adden and the captains of his guard.

"We ride for Duskendale within the week," Hosteen announced. "Lord Tywin has called upon the Lords of Westeros to aid in rescuing the King. This is an opportunity we cannot ignore."

One of the captains, a grizzled veteran named Harwin, frowned. "My lord, with respect, our men are newly equipped and have yet to see proper combat. Marching them into a siege might be unwise."

Hosteen nodded thoughtfully. "Your concern is valid, Harwin. That is why we will take only a select contingent—those who have trained hardest and shown the greatest promise. The rest will remain here to secure our lands."

Adden spoke up. "And what of the supplies, my lord? A siege could last months."

"We'll carry enough provisions for three moons," Hosteen replied. "Anything beyond that will be sourced from the camps around Duskendale. Tywin Lannister's host will have its own supply lines."