Post by The Smith on Jun 30, 2009 18:00:23 GMT -5
It had been about a week since the departure of Queen Rhaenys and her Army of the Ever-Night, and Talyn found it odd to look out from the Kingspyre and see the long stretch of plains before him, where only a few days before there had been a sea of human bodies. Now they were gone, and everywhere the eye could see, looked like a field picked clean by locusts.
Talyn’s first impressions of Harrenhal had all been negative. It was sturdy and well built at its walls and at its base, true, but falling apart, in too many places, and so enormous that even with his two hundred plus men inside, it was cavernously empty, and with no staff on hand it was less lordly home than perpetual game of hide and seek.
Even climbing all the steps to the top of the Kingspyre tower had left Talyn winded, and after six years of continuous fighting, he was in excellent shape. And yet, once at the top, there was nothing to be seen, but bats, and their excrement.
Old Harren and his ambition, had built these great big towers, not that it had spare him. And every subsequent owner had struggled to keep the massive castle occupied, even as it proved indefensible. And each one had ultimately been cast down, destroyed. Some said cursed. Talyn thought that particularly funny. If anything their curse was ambition.
That was something he understood only too well. His father had it.
How ironic than that his son had chosen Harrenhal from a lack of ambition. Looking for a place forlorn enough that perhaps no one else would bother to want it.
Talyn snorted in mockery of his own philosophical musings. The Whents, and Lothsons, and all the others had been destroyed for practical reasons. The castle was simply too big to defend with less than ten thousand men, and the areas around supported perhaps one-tenth of the necessary adult men. But despite knowing that, none of its previous owners had taken any steps to remedy it.
And it was there, in particular, Talyn intended to be different.
To begin with the towers were ludicrously tall, and the tops structural unsound. He planned to have their tops torn down, and to have them stand at about a third of their present height, except for the Tower of Ghosts which was the most dilapidated and would be completely torn down. The outer ward would be abandoned, it’s buildings moved to the Flowstone yard and its outer wall torn down, with a new gatehouse to be built where the Tower of Ghosts once stood. It would reduce the total area of the castle by about two-thirds all said, and she’d still be a massive beast. But it would be a manageable beast, and more secure than before, despite the decrease in size.
It would be a time consuming project, although it wouldn’t be any forty years, nor require tens of thousands of thralls.
Talyn retreated down the narrow windy stairs of the tower. He wanted to see Kyma before the headsmen from the several villages and the elders of Harrentown arrive, but looking at the position of the sun through one of the many arrow slits, he didn’t think there would be time.
Inside the Hall of One Hundred Hearths, Talyn sat on a small straight back chair off to the right of a larger more imposing seat which was technically the Lords. Talyn refused to sit there, telling his wife he was “just the lord protector” while Kyma refused to sit there on the grounds that it “was creepy” and hurt her rear. It had become something of a running joke between the two.
Before him knelt four quivering small folk, each knelt to the ground with their fist pressed against their forehead. Talyn sighed, hating it.
“Please get up. I’d like to discuss a levy.”
“For the army milord?” one of the other men, who was missing a tooth asked as they came to their feet.
“No, work levy. I want to make some changes around here. It will be tough labor, but I mean to pay fairly. I am correct in assuming you’ve already planted gotten your beginning of the year crop in the ground…”
A number of hurried nods indicated this was true.
“So I’d like you to gather strong backed men as are available, and have them assemble for work. We’ll rotate out who does the work every four months, and I’ll have some coin, and food and ale rations for all workers, and we can break works for harvest time.”
“Yes milord, but what… what will we be building?” the man asked curiously.
“Building nothing, we’re tearing this fucker down,” Talyn said with a wicked smile before sobering. “At least, some of it. And fixing some. It’s too big, and I don’t mean to tax your lot into oblivion to pay for it likes my predecessors.”
The men all nodded subserviently saying how generous it was, which indicated to Talyn that they either didn’t understand what he was saying, or didn’t care.
When the discussions were finished, Talyn went to rejoin Kyma, who had established her embroidery in the Tower of Dread, rather enjoying the sound of it.
“Hello sweetling, how has it been?” He asked her as he approached.
“Good, we have a new stablehand, cook, and a few of the other servant positions filled.”
“Gods, half of them are probably Lannisters’ men, and the other half Thatcher’s.”
“They are not, everyone is Thatcher’s.” She said with a smile, and a kiss on the nose, “meaning you. And anyway, I checked. Everyone has lived in or around Harrentown their entire lives, as vouched for by at least five other persons, who I spoke to personally.”
“Really, that’s very clever dear,” Talyn said, with a smile.
“Oh I know,” she said.
Talyn planned to watch them all like hawks anyway.
Results:
Construction begins on Reducing Harrenhal to a manageable, defensible size. Will be completed 574 A.C
Harrenhal is staffed with vetted servants who are being supervised for loyalty.
Talyn rises to Beginner: Stewardship
Talyn’s first impressions of Harrenhal had all been negative. It was sturdy and well built at its walls and at its base, true, but falling apart, in too many places, and so enormous that even with his two hundred plus men inside, it was cavernously empty, and with no staff on hand it was less lordly home than perpetual game of hide and seek.
Even climbing all the steps to the top of the Kingspyre tower had left Talyn winded, and after six years of continuous fighting, he was in excellent shape. And yet, once at the top, there was nothing to be seen, but bats, and their excrement.
Old Harren and his ambition, had built these great big towers, not that it had spare him. And every subsequent owner had struggled to keep the massive castle occupied, even as it proved indefensible. And each one had ultimately been cast down, destroyed. Some said cursed. Talyn thought that particularly funny. If anything their curse was ambition.
That was something he understood only too well. His father had it.
How ironic than that his son had chosen Harrenhal from a lack of ambition. Looking for a place forlorn enough that perhaps no one else would bother to want it.
Talyn snorted in mockery of his own philosophical musings. The Whents, and Lothsons, and all the others had been destroyed for practical reasons. The castle was simply too big to defend with less than ten thousand men, and the areas around supported perhaps one-tenth of the necessary adult men. But despite knowing that, none of its previous owners had taken any steps to remedy it.
And it was there, in particular, Talyn intended to be different.
To begin with the towers were ludicrously tall, and the tops structural unsound. He planned to have their tops torn down, and to have them stand at about a third of their present height, except for the Tower of Ghosts which was the most dilapidated and would be completely torn down. The outer ward would be abandoned, it’s buildings moved to the Flowstone yard and its outer wall torn down, with a new gatehouse to be built where the Tower of Ghosts once stood. It would reduce the total area of the castle by about two-thirds all said, and she’d still be a massive beast. But it would be a manageable beast, and more secure than before, despite the decrease in size.
It would be a time consuming project, although it wouldn’t be any forty years, nor require tens of thousands of thralls.
Talyn retreated down the narrow windy stairs of the tower. He wanted to see Kyma before the headsmen from the several villages and the elders of Harrentown arrive, but looking at the position of the sun through one of the many arrow slits, he didn’t think there would be time.
Inside the Hall of One Hundred Hearths, Talyn sat on a small straight back chair off to the right of a larger more imposing seat which was technically the Lords. Talyn refused to sit there, telling his wife he was “just the lord protector” while Kyma refused to sit there on the grounds that it “was creepy” and hurt her rear. It had become something of a running joke between the two.
Before him knelt four quivering small folk, each knelt to the ground with their fist pressed against their forehead. Talyn sighed, hating it.
“Please get up. I’d like to discuss a levy.”
“For the army milord?” one of the other men, who was missing a tooth asked as they came to their feet.
“No, work levy. I want to make some changes around here. It will be tough labor, but I mean to pay fairly. I am correct in assuming you’ve already planted gotten your beginning of the year crop in the ground…”
A number of hurried nods indicated this was true.
“So I’d like you to gather strong backed men as are available, and have them assemble for work. We’ll rotate out who does the work every four months, and I’ll have some coin, and food and ale rations for all workers, and we can break works for harvest time.”
“Yes milord, but what… what will we be building?” the man asked curiously.
“Building nothing, we’re tearing this fucker down,” Talyn said with a wicked smile before sobering. “At least, some of it. And fixing some. It’s too big, and I don’t mean to tax your lot into oblivion to pay for it likes my predecessors.”
The men all nodded subserviently saying how generous it was, which indicated to Talyn that they either didn’t understand what he was saying, or didn’t care.
When the discussions were finished, Talyn went to rejoin Kyma, who had established her embroidery in the Tower of Dread, rather enjoying the sound of it.
“Hello sweetling, how has it been?” He asked her as he approached.
“Good, we have a new stablehand, cook, and a few of the other servant positions filled.”
“Gods, half of them are probably Lannisters’ men, and the other half Thatcher’s.”
“They are not, everyone is Thatcher’s.” She said with a smile, and a kiss on the nose, “meaning you. And anyway, I checked. Everyone has lived in or around Harrentown their entire lives, as vouched for by at least five other persons, who I spoke to personally.”
“Really, that’s very clever dear,” Talyn said, with a smile.
“Oh I know,” she said.
Talyn planned to watch them all like hawks anyway.
Results:
Construction begins on Reducing Harrenhal to a manageable, defensible size. Will be completed 574 A.C
Harrenhal is staffed with vetted servants who are being supervised for loyalty.
Talyn rises to Beginner: Stewardship