Hidden In Plain Sight (closed)

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

An ancient lineage that went back a thousand years, Swifthammer had sworn fealty to serve Blackwood. Now tragedy had befallen the house of their liege Lord. Lord Àedádan , Lady Guinevre, and daughter Enrid had all fallen at the hands of an assassin sent by a rival house. Only the surviving son remained left alive. Lord Envictus Swifthammer sent his eldest son Ser Drenton Swifthammer to attend the funeral rites as a sign of solidarity and to ensure the safety of the last remaining heir to this once great house.

The boy, Elrid would need much guidance on what his future would bring and obviously those closest to him could not be trusted as they had let an assassin slip into their midst and murder his family. He would need to be trained in the arts of war and diplomacy, how to manage a keep, a holdfast, a castle. He would need to learn how to become a lord. The knowledge that Drenton himself already possessed would be passed down to the young lordling in the best way he could, through service.

While an awkward arrangement squireship would be good for the lad, it would teach him the skills he needed to be a good leader. It would also make it harder for him to be targeted by trailing assassins. Constantly on the move, in service to a knight, their movements would be masked by conflict. Through service, the boy would learn humility and strife of the commoners he would one day govern. He would also gain the strength to wield the tools of his trade.

The more he read his father's missive, the more this choice made sense and he saw the wisdom in his father's choice. He now traveled to the Western shores, bound for Misthaven to attend the funeral of the late Lord and two Lady Blackwood. His mission was also to advise the young Lord Blackwood that he would be taking charge of the young man's care until such a time that he could come and reclaim his family's ancestral holdings. Until then Drenton's younger brother Àedádan, named after the late Lord Blackwood would manage the Blackwood family's affairs and assure that there would be a future for the young lord to return to. Naming a son after the late lord showed just how tight the bond between Swifthammer and Blackwood went, how deeply that trust went.

So needless to say when he arrived at the gate and he was refused admittance he was absolutely appalled. He showed the signed document from his father to the guards at the gate, but they simply ignored him. "No outsiders are allowed entry into the Blackwood holdings." They stated as if they had official right to deny him entry.

"I am no outsider. I was present when both of the Blackwood children were born! I fought in the celebratory melee when the twins were born! For all, I know the pair of you fools are outsiders to deny me entry. I share blood ties with the Blackwood's. If you refuse to deny me entry, you dishonor yourselves and let the gods judge you at the end of a blade."

It was true. More than once Blackwood and Swifthammer had married, that was how they had become so close, and so trusted to one another.

The two guards at the gate looked at one another, a bit concerned by the young knight's confidence and size. He slipped slipped the scroll back into the protective case. "I am Lord Blackwood's Bannerman. Sworn to protect him with my life. Only he has the power to send me away. If I must cut the two of you down to get to him then I will do just that. So, do we have a problem?"

Still mounted, he slipped from his saddle and onto the ground. He could hear the familiar sound of the ocean crashing against the rocks nearby. This place was just as much his home as was Hammer Hall. He spent several years training here under the strict tutelage of Àedádan, his younger brother's namesake's hard hand. The man was an expert at fighting with two weapons and fighting multiple opponents at the same time. Having no children of age at the time, he had passed this knowledge on to the eldest Swifthammer son. He bore a shield on his back, but he instead eased a war hammer loose from his right hand, and a long sword in his left. Power in one hand, speed in the other.

The men decided they did not like the look of this and snarled. "Oh bugger it. Let the Lordling deal with you."

He quickly made his way through the keep and stabled his horse. Noticing the tense atmosphere in the keep he made sure to keep his weapons at his side as he made his way through the halls. He stopped the nearest servant and had them lead them to where the presiding Lord was. He studied the boy for a moment through his helm as he approached and then as he did, he pulled off his plated helm and dropped to his knee.

"Lord Blackwood, it is with great sorrow that I come before you under these circumstances. Still no matter how dire the circumstances House Swifthammer stands with Blackwood for all time. I have a missive from my father."

His tone was somber, even emotional. If anyone in the room was listening they would hear the love he bore for the dead, and for the living. He pulled open the scroll case and handed the scroll to the young Lord for him to read.

It had been a few years since the knight had seen the young boy, but the years had changed him slightly. He had expected the young man to be taller, more muscular. The knight himself had grown in strength and filled into more of a man. His grey eyes had only locked on the young Lords for a moment, but they were striking. His dark black hair was kept short, trimmed neatly and close to his skull.

He bowed his head and awaited the decision of Lord Blackwood.

"Lord Blackwood,

It is with the deepest sorrow that I write this letter to you, and deepest urgency that you read it with a clear mind. I grieve the loss of your father, mother, and sister. Your father was as a brother to me, your mother, a sister, and you and your sister are like my own children. That is why I have sent Drenton ahead to care for your immediate security. Your father was one of the greatest warriors this land has ever seen and still more than fit enough to wield a weapon. I do not believe him to have been struck down in his own keep in the middle of the night an act of a thief. This was an assassination. I do not know how you survived, I do not care, all that matters is that you have.

I have charged Drenton with your safety. He is going to take you as a squire, to teach you the lessons your father once taught him. He will teach you how to fight, how to run a hold fast and a castle, how to govern your people.

While you are learning these lessons his younger brother, named after your father will run your family holdings and assure that everything the Blackwood name stands for is still standing tall and strong when you are ready to reclaim it.

You can, of course, refuse to comply with all of this and send us away, we are after all yours to command, but understand what we do, what we risk is all for the love we bear your family and for honor. I am placing two of my beloved sons into danger, directly into an assassins path to protect your family's name.

I implore you to heed Drenton, let him teach you. Do not let the Blackwood line end here.

Your devoted servant,
Envictus Swifthammer"

 

[Tanned_babe]

“You have brought absolute shame on this house!” Their father’s voice echoed throughout the great hall so loudly it was as if the ringing was causing the dark blue and black banners to ripple. “Do you have any idea the disrespect you showed Lord Breamar?”

Silence.

“Answer me Damn it!” He roared, causing one of the two teenagers to wince. However they were given no opportunity to do so. “We could be at war over this! And for what? What?” He spat. “So you two can carry on these tricks you played when you were children. Well, you’re not whelps anymore.” Lord Blackwood stood up from his carved oak chair on top of the dais and marched down the few stairs towards the identical pair. He was an imposing man and whilst his bite could be as bad if not worse than his bark Elrid and Enid, although held their heads bowed in remorse found the whole ordeal quite amusing.

Both youths stood at about six feet tall; lean figures built for speed and agility; not to say that Enid in particular could not hold a long sword. Their shoulder length auburn hair matched that of their Mother’s and hung in messy waves around their shoulders, a portion of it tied at the back. Even the leather thongs they used to do so matched. The twins, had dressed down from their tourney garments into brown breeches, matching brown leather boots and a simple, yet high quality leather jerkin, bound by gold decal which looked like branches of the Blackwood crest. Fox pelt capes completed the outfit and by no accident hid Elrid’s modest curves.

“I don’t know which one of you unhorsed Hurin of Greymouth-“ A snigger! Lord Aedan Blackwood looked incredulously at the pair and in a rare moment of anger he cuffed the downcast figure who was now visibly struggling to hold in their amusement, shoulders shaking, around the ear.

“Father!” Enid shouted, stepping between his sister and father, that head finally snapping up, green and amber eyes meeting those dark blue, almost black ones of his Lord Father.

Aedan cursed and turned his back on them, striding back to his high-backed chair. He always picked the wrong one; telling them apart was a skill few possessed, his wife and Maester Aelow being amongst the few who could. Lord Blackwood regretted the cuff immediately; he loved them and deep down he hopped it had been Elrid who had fought in the at least one round of the joust, but the consequences of their disrespect was overpowering. “Look at me, Elrid.” He bellowed to his daughter who had acted as if nothing had happened, a slight stumble forward being her only reaction to the blow.

“It wasn’t her-“

“Fault, son? No, you are right, you’re both at fault, But-“ He eyeballed his daughter now she had finally looked up. “I bet all the gold in the South that it was your idea, girl.” He growled.

“Aye, it was Father.” She said over the top of her brother’s efforts to protect her whilst those eyes flickered with pride, a trace of a smile spread across her lips. “In mail and helm who can tell us apart?”

“Be quiet!” Her brother hissed, a wary glance towards his Father.

A hint of amusement flickered across her father’s face and at this the Lady relaxed slightly; toned shoulders dropping an inch. “How many did you unhorse?” Her father enquired.

“Three.” She shrugged. “Hurin, Whitewater and that Phardos boy, but I don’t think he really counts. He was only there because his Lord Grandfather paid his entry. Then Devlin Son of, eh-”

“Upland.” Her brother interjected.

“Yes, he was up next, so Enrid took him.” She glanced at her brother and the pair shared a look that only bonded twins such as themselves could impart.

“So two Knights, Elrid?” Her Lord Father said quietly, pinching the bridge of nose in frustration.

“Enid unhorsed three.” She stated matter of factly.

“Gods give me strength.” He muttered under his breath. At eighteen what could he do with her? Marry her off; that was his wife’s suggestion and although Blackwood was not the largest or wealthiest of houses the family ruled a substantial area which boasted both ports and agriculture. They were a well-regarded house throughout the Kingdom. Too well regarded for some Southerners preference; control of Misthaven Keep and its surrounding lands would prove advantageous to any family seeking to better their current fortune. Control could come dishonestly or honestly through the marriage of his daughter. When this suggestion was made Lord Blackwood could not bear the look of hurt and mistrust in his daughter’s eyes. The subject was dropped, with the promise that the topic would be revisited once she had turned nineteen. He’s said that the year before and the year before that.

“Get out of my sight, the pair of you. Elrid, go and speak with your Mother, she will give you a suitable punishment. Enid, you will rise with the town’s folk tomorrow; harvest is starting and you’ll work those Gods Damned fields for the next fortnight. Now-“ Elrid went to protest but was cut off by another below. “No you can’t go and work the fucking fields! Go! Now!”

The auburn haired girl smiled sadly at the memory, another wave of uncontrollable emotion ripping through her lean body as she cried into her brother’s jousting cape. The dark blue background against the black tree, once a source of pride and comfort now only reminded Elrid that she was alone. It didn’t seem real that mere months ago Enid and her had cantered proudly through the gates of Misthaven, returning from that tourney and now, tomorrow, she’s be sending him to the crypts where her forefathers rested. The loss of her Mother and Father were bad enough, but with Enid, she felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach and held icy underwater at the same time. She wept.

She heard the door behind her, but did not look around from where she was sat; her brother’s belongings strewn around her on the oak floor. “Now then, Lord Blackwood.” And in one swift movement the woman was lifted to her feet and turned around to look down on Maester Aelow, the pair boasted matching bloodshot eyes. “Never in my life have I seen either of the Blackwood twins show such emotion. You have to be strong, for your Lady Mother, Lord Father and sweet sister.”

“My sister doesn’t like to be called sweet.” She bubbled. “I can’t do this, Maester. Not right now. Let me hide away, just a day or two. Allow me to get my thoughts in order. I can’t-” She’d never been so hysterical; admittedly her whole family had never been wiped out in the blink of an eye.

“Elrid.” The old man hissed. “Pull yourself together! You go into hiding and any honor or bravery your family held will be questioned! The Blackwoods are not weak, are they?” Of course not, wiping her nose on the back of her woolen jerkin, causing the bearded man to smile. “You want to do them proud?” Of course she did. “Well, as I’ve said, you have two options, one is to marry-“
“No! The Blackwood line has to go on.” There was nothing romantic about marriages between Lords and their Ladies; bare boys, be ornamental, share your assets. It wasn’t like the silly songs.

“Well, then you have one option and you know what it is. You’ve masqueraded as your brother; even now as a woman you fooled your own Father. Now, Lord Enid, I suggest you collect your thoughts and make your way to the Great Hall. Put on the-“

“I know what he’d wear.” She snapped before looking to Aelow. “Sorry, Ser. I am not myself.”

“No, you’re not.” A light flickering across his wrinkled face.


Whilst the Lordling didn’t quite fill the impressive wooden throne, carved like a tree, the auburn haired youth just about looked the part. His upper body encased in dark blue velvet and black leather jerkin which complemented dark breeches and long black polished leather riding boots. The light in the hall was low, decreasing the chances of anyone picking out Elrid’s features. Even if they did the twins had learned long ago that people, once told something fundamental, tended not to question it. Her eyes appeared as amber as her auburn hair in the flames and they flashed as a member of The Watch approached. The two large shaggy dogs at her feet growled, obviously sensing her trepidation.

“My Lord.” Panted the watchman, “You have a visitor; a Lord Swifthammer here to pay respects to my Lord, I mean, your late family.”

“I told you no one was to gain entry to the keep.” She growled hoarsely, masking the traces of femininity her voice may carry.

“If I may, my Lord.” Aelow started, rising from a nearby table from which he had been making notes of the affairs being discussed. “The Swifthammers are-“

“Allies. Much like whoever broke into this Gods Damned keep four nights ago.” She was already sounding like her Lord Father.

“With all due respect, my Lord.” The Maester went on to explain Drenton’s ties to her family, it wasn’t all news to her, but at the moment everyone was to be suspected. After some deliberation the Lordling bid the Knight entry.

Amber eyes watched the tall Knight stride into the hall before dropping to his knee. The emotion the man showed was surely not an act; it confirmed what the Maester had just told her and there was not a shadow of a doubt that Swifthammer’s claim of sorrow and remorse was true. However, Elrid didn’t say anything, only nodded curtly as she took the scroll.

Reading it twice over, the only sound the Lord made was a hush, to quiet the growling hound at her feet. Silently, the scroll was passed to Maester Aelow but before awaiting the old man’s council, Lord Blackwood spoke. “Thank you for coming all this way Lord Swifthammer. That road is long and I expect you are in need of sustenance and chambers for the night. Jonas.” She turned to a boy not much younger than he. “Take our guest to the North Wing, give him the chamber with the largest fire and then bring him a hot meal. Have Atya tend to his horse as well.”

“My Lord,” She looked at him, face hard, strong jaw set. “I thank you and your Lord Father for this.” She gestured to the scroll. I shall.” He faultered, just for a moment, “I shall bury my family on the morrow and then we’ll discuss this. I thank you for your patience.” And with that the Lordling nodded to the young squire to escort Lord Swifthammer from her Great Hall.

 

[Firmhanded_Daddy]

His eyes flicked up quickly at the words of dismissal. Oh they were a courtly and flowery dismissal to be sure but they were all but “Thank you for coming, now here are some rooms and I’ll come see you if I have time” Either this child did not understand the danger he was in, or grief had him so rattle he couldn’t see sense. Still he could not openly defy the child, to do so would only raise suspicion, might even get him executed as a would be assassin come to finish the job.

He bowed his head once more fist to chest in salute. “Thank you for your hospitality in these trying times.” He had to take a gamble that the Maester could be trusted. The lord seemed to rely on his council, please let the fates be kind. “If you could spare your Maester for a few moments at some point I believe I may have taken some small injury on the road. Until our next meeting my lord.” He rose gracefully despite the bulky armor and saluted one final time and scanned each and every face in the hall. How many of them were traitors to the house? How many were loyal? Gods what a snakes nest this was. He couldn’t help thinking he wished his father was here for council, how did this boy feel, at half his age? Poor lad must be terrified. He let the young man escort him to his room where he thanked the child and gave him a few coppers for his trouble. This house needed all the help it could get. Without a good amount of luck and a damn good harvest most of the peasants around this holding would starve this winter.

Still the Swifthammer granaries always had more than they needed, perhaps they could help. The problem would be shipping the grain all that distance. It was a good three day ride for a single rider. For a horse and carriage? Five days easily. A train would need guard and the guards would need to be fed. The train would need to be extended to account for the extra food the guards would eat.

A bloody snakes nest!

He set his helm on the nearby table but did not unbuckle his armor. He could not relax himself. Not in these walls, not yet. It felt like there was a dagger just waiting to be planted between his spine. He pulled out his sword and his whet stone and began to sharpen his blade. He remembered Aedan telling him to do that when he needed to calm his nerves. At first it didn’t work. The noise of the stone on the steel made his nerves worse, but once he got used to that sound the moition, the repition, the vibration, it became hypnotic. It eased away his tension and got him focused on a single thing.

Once the blade had been sharpened on both ends he cleaned off the metal shavings and then sheathed it. He pulled his hammer from the thong and looked it over. The Warhammer was a simplistic weapon that did not need a great deal of maintenance. He checked to make sure there were no cracks in the metal, no chips. He checked the back end which was formed into a point, good for puncturing through plate armor. He checked the grip to make sure it would not slip. Everything was in good working order. He oiled both the weapons to keep them from rusting and then that was all he could do for them.

Food was brought in, and with nothing else to do he ate. It had been some time since he had eaten a hot meal. He had not stopped to eat at inns. He had simply eaten trail rations and pushed for as many miles in a day as he could manage. Now he ate, not because he was hungry, just like everyone else he was so stricken with grief he barely had an appetite, but he was a soldier and he knew how to force himself to eat when he had to. You never knew when your next meal would come.

Even then he could not manage to finish the meal. Too much was going through his head at the moment to finish eating. He half expected to either be seized at any moment of have the child come through the door, or any number of scenarios happen.

He pulled a chair into the middle of the room and put his blade across his lap facing the door and waited for the door to open. Depending on who came through it, and what they did he would either thrust that blade, or put it at their feet.

There was a soft knock. “Enter” He replied in his deep baritone.

The door was slowly pushed open and the elder man paused in the doorway upon seeing the young knight seated with the naked blade upon his lap. He judged the knight with a careful eye and watched the knight quietly for a moment, he did not raise any alarm bells, nor did the knight make any threatening movements toward him, the pair sat, gauging one another as if to see if there could be trust.

After what felt like hours, the Maester entered the door and closed it behind him. The knight judged the man to be no immediate threat. He pulled the blade slowly from his lap and carefully slid it into the sheath. The pair seemed satisfied that for the moment they could at least talk to one another without putting each other's lives in imminent threat.

The Maester broke the silence first. "So you took some injury upon the road, Ser Swifthammer?"

The knight frowned and gave a slight shake of his head. He hated political intrigue and deceit. "Forgive the small lie. I could not openly challenge the young Lord in his hall, not with things as they stand. I took no injury on the road, but I needed someone with the Lord's ear and if he will not see me tonight then I will have to settle with a proxy."

His features were hard and serious, worry lines suddenly betraying his youth. "I almost had to kill two Blackwood guardsmen at the front gate just to gain entry to the front gate. I fear grief is clouding the young man's thoughts and blinding him to his danger. You know the love I bear his late Lord Father. I would not be the man I am without his guidance. You have set a few broken bones of mine, mended a few scars. I owe his family more than an oath, but a debt of honor and my love. You know the histories our families share, you know the boy better than I do. He was too young when I was here training for me to remember much about his personality. When I visited it was usually all too brief."

He sighed, regretting this now. If only he had spent more time with the child and built a bond, perhaps now he could reach him!

"Make him see the danger he is in. Make him see that sending me away is not the answer and that I would give my life for his without hesitation. Please Maester Aelow, there is no one else I can trust with this."

The older man sighed wearily and put his hand on Drenton's left arm, the arm he had set fifteen years ago after the boy had broken it training with the late Lord Aedan. He had grown from a stick of a boy into a large, powerful man, reminiscent of the man they would bury tomorrow. Aedan would be proud. He cleared his throat quietly and squeezed his arm softly. "I will do my best son, that's all I'll promise. He's hard to reach right now."

"That is all that I ask."

The older man rose and the knight saw him to the door. The two parted and the knight let out a weary sigh. Feeling somewhat defeated, he began to remove the pieces of his armor and settle in for the evening. Tomorrow he would have to bury a man who was like a father to him.