|Summary:||Nerys and Tyroan meet in the maproom. The future of trade is discussed.|
|Related Logs:||None specifically.|
|Map Room — Tordane Tower|
|Desc is in the set!|
|25 Oct, 289 AL|
This room used to be the smallest of the guest rooms in Tordane Tower, but all of the previous furniture has been removed save a small side-table. Several other small tables have been added around the walls, holding books and parchments brought in from the library about law, trade, and the like. Additionally, a single high table, build to be stood around, is centered in the room, surrounded by tall stool-like chairs built to its height. Atop that table is a large map of Stonebridge and its surrounding area, with colored blocks placed atop it in the positions from the last Battle of Stonebridge. Tyroan Nayland stands at the table, a ledger open at his side, but his attention on the map and the blocks.
Well, it's not as though the woman can mask her presence. Or, at least not easily. But in this instance, Nerys seems more than easily inclined to transparency. Josef is with her as always, Marisa in tow as well, as the woman navigates the corridors with only the minimum amount of instruction needed from the guards, to finally arrive at what's become the map room. A lift her her hand and a knock. The maid carries a rolled map case slung over her shoulder and follows only a few steps behind her lady.
Motion through the open door draws the attention of the Steward, the aging man looking up from beneath heavy brows. There's a moment's pause to recognize the woman, and then he nods his head in greeting. "Lady Narys." He pushes away from the table a little, resting the palms of his hands on the edge and reaching out for the tankard sitting near him, "What can I do for you?" He hefts up the tankard, then frowns down at the fact that it's bare-ass empty. Grunting once, he stumps over to one of the side-tables, where a pitcher of dark Mire beer and a few other tankards sits.
Nerys drops a light curtsey, before she steps into the room. Marisa comes with her, Josef stopping just by the door, "Lord Steward." His wife she might call Auntie, but Tyroan Nayland does not give off the air of a man who would enjoy nicknames. "I was wondering if you might have a map of the surrounding Riverlands and coasts which you might be willing to lend to me for a short while." Eyes fall to the table that, of necessity, shows only Stonebridge.
Tyroan pours himself another pitcher of the bitter beer, thinking a moment on the question, then setting down the pitcher and starting over to one of the other tables around the side of the room, "I'm sure there's one around here some-fucking-where." Despite the cursing, there's no anger in the man's words. They just seem like punctuation to him. Taking a sip from his tankard, he frowns down at the rolls of maps, then bellows, "BENTON! Where the fuck are the large-scale maps?" His young squire squeaks from outside and comes running in, babbling something about finding them. Evidently satisfied to have the boy searching, Tyroan makes his way back to the main table, setting down his beer, "Why do you need it, Lady Narys?" There's probably an 'if you don't mind me asking' buried in there somewhere, unspoken.
Frank and to the point. At least the Northern woman has that in her favour. "For two reasons, Lord Steward." A hand reaches out towards her maid and the woman hands over the map case, though Nerys does not make any move to open it. "My Lord Brother is in the midst of negotiations to establish a small holding at the edge of the coastline along the forests of Highfield." She doesn't even bother mentioning the House that once held it. Gone is gone. "I've been tasked with both establishing the best routes for goods and cargo, as well as calculating the most likely routes for reavers coming in from the Isles." Nerys sets the map case down on the edge of the table, stepping politely around the Steward and his beer, to study the Stonebridge map, "As well, I've promised the Lady Steward I would help her to revitalize this town and increase its trade. And that requires getting a better idea of the routes already established and which can be bolstered and which consolidated."
Tyroan nods a bit, glancing over at the squire sorting through map rolls, then looking back to the Northern lady, "Ser Tyroan," he corrects idly, "Until my family rules Stonebridge in our own fucking name." At least he's not making any bones about his ambition. "Reavers won't be reaving anyone for at least a decade. Take that long to rebuild their fleet. Then you'll need your own fucking longships to patrol sea routes." Since even Seagard had problems affording galleys before their fleet was burned. "Benton… where's the godsdamned map, boy?" The squire makes a triumphant sound, bringing a rolled map over, finding a space where it won't interfere with the main map, and unrolling it for the Lady. "You'll need land routes to back up the sea route though. Does no good to get trade into a port if it can't get fucking out again after."
"It may be that the Ironborn may need time to rebuild their fleets, but it does not due to think a threat is gone completely, simply because it is diminished. Six years north of the Stony Shore taught me the devastation even one longship can do on the unsuspecting." Nerys unclasps the lid of her map case, drawing out a large rolled scroll, though she leaves it aside for the moment, to study the map found by the squire, "Ser Tyroan, then, if it suits you better. "Longships will be long in the making, for our own part, but establishing watch points are more easily done." Nerys settles in, hand tucking her hair up into a knot at the back of her head. "Thank you, Benton." She caught the name at least, "Indeed. The new holding is still being mapped and the land surveyed. But I can use these for a rough estimate. And it is months off yet. For now, I would make Stonebridge my priority. It has the potential to revitalize the Riverlands more quickly and from what I have heard of past events here, there is much need for rebuilding." The other Naylands did leave the place in quite a shambles.
Benton hangs around as the Northern Lady remembers his name, staring at her with fourteen-year-old eyes until Tyroan gathers a walnut from a bowl on the table and tosses it lightly at him. The nut hits the squire in the chest and clatters on the table, raising another squeak from the teen. "Run along, lad." And then the squire's gone again. Looking back to Nerys, he shifts his shoulders like a bird ruffling up its feathers, "Trade's still good through the town. Or will be when word of the peace spreads. Just some fucking fires and some bad damned habits." Because if anyone's going to insult the other branch of the Naylands, it's going to be Ty. Still, "What ideas do you have then, Lady Nerys?"
"My thoughts are these. First," she pauses, picking up the rolled map she brought with her and unrolling it, for now, over the map the squire brought. But it isn't quite a map, so much as what looks to be a compiled series of routes and ship's maneuvers along the Stony Shore at the top and along the Bay of Ice at the bottom. "My first task, when I arrived at her House, was being assigned by Lady Maege to keep a rolling account of the movements of the reavers. I was to listen to every account that was given to me and then to use those accounts to extrapolate their methods and minds as best I could." Nerys slides the map over so that Tyroan can study it if he chooses. It's well done, marked, labeled, color-ink-coded. "Unless they come up along the River, the reavers cannot attack Stonebridge directly…" but that doesn't mean they can't devastate the area around on the way. "Second, you will soon have three potential rivals for your trade ships and overland cargo. The Terricks are said to still have hopes for their dock, the Flint port, if that should come to pass. And Highfield. As close as the township is to the Green Fork, they potentially have the ability to access the route between the Twins and the Neck much more easily than Stonebridge. My thoughts are these. We need to establish which goods bring us the most revenue, and then which trading galleys and merchant companies we can entice to continue to trade here and here alone, ensuring as best we can, a steady revenue into the township's coffers. We have the advantage of being a gateway to Seagard, but we cannot rely on that alone." A beat, as she considers, "We certainly have the best defensible port, which may be worth noting given the recent ironborn attacks and that will certainly be a point in our favour. Highfield is farther inland, but most of its lands are undefended."
Tyroan grunts softly as he moves over to look at the chart that's been presented, listening to the description of the threats to Stonebridge, "The Terricks are the biggest threat to sections of our trade, but they're a long-ass way from finishing." He grunts softly, "But the reavers did attack Stonebridge. And broke their fucking teeth." Waving that point off, he adds, "Sailing around the Cape'll avoid our tariffs, but it'll take longer than shipping into Seagard and then carting up. Highfield'll always get some of their trade through Heronhurst, but that's a ferry, not a bridge. Big shipments are going to have troubles." He smirks tightly, "And if they think they're going to make a fucking trading town on the Green Fork, and we're just going to sit by and let them, they've got another thing coming. That doesn't suit us or the Herons. We'll break them economically if it comes to that." He grunts softly, "But how do you figure we entice the right merchants? Tariff breaks? Can't afford that right now."
Nerys leaves Tyroan to study the chart at his leisure, her own attention turning back to the map of Stonebridge, taking a few of the markers set off to the side, unassigned to represent troop movements, and setting them out on the map, "And we do not yet know what the balance of power will be when things have settled there and the new branch has made their choices of what to keep and what to set aside. My Lord Brother is there now, and I will ask him for his impressions when I can." A nod, as Tyroan comments on the reavers, "Indeed. But not by sea, if I was told aright, and, of all of the places in this area they attacked, Stonebridge alone was able to repulse them." Nerys looks to the map of the area Benton brought, hands tracing the lines of the green fork, "Highfield is an ambitious township. And now, they have much to prove. In truth, I do not know their plans, but it is what I would do, if I were in their place. And I had their ambitions." But that can be for another time, "If we cannot lower the tariffs, could we contract them to a set fee for a number of seasons? If they knew they could be assured that the rates to trade would not increase, it might be incentive enough. And would certainly indicate a bit more stability than any of the other potential harbours. We would lose money on the one hand, but if we can use it to entice other trading partners, those additional monies would alleviate the loss."
Tyroan looks up from the map to where the blocks are being added to the 'battle,' frowning just a touch. The mention of the repulse of the reaver attack draws a sharp nod, "Too fucking right. The militia saw to that." There's pride there, and perhaps there should be, since the system was patterned after that of Hag's Mire. The suggestion, however, draws a grunt, "Might work. It's a good thought at least, Lady Nerys. I'll keep it in mind." Picking up the errant walnut, he crushes it between his gnarled hands, starting to pick out the meat as he meanders back toward the bowl. But then there's a commotion of voices from outside, and Benton peeks his head back in, hopping over to Tyroan and going on tiptoe to whisper into the Steward's ear. Ty grumps, "Fuck. Gods damn it." He dumps the walnut shell fragments into the bowl, then picks up his tankard, draining off a good portion of it in one slug. He sets it down, nods to Nerys, and grabs his ledger, "If you'll excuse me, Lady Nerys. Some fuckwit needs to be hit."
"I will speak with your Lady Wife and get her suggestions as well. I am only here to aid your House. And what works north of the Neck might not be as effective here." Well she knows it, but good might still come of it. Whatever else she might be about to say is forestalled as the squire returns. The sounds and Tyroan's own comments only draw an amused smile from the woman, "Go. Never let it be said that I held a man back from administering a well deserved beating, Ser Tyroan." As for the Flint, she'll stay behind and study the maps and makes such notes as she can until she's kicked out.