|Summary:||Brennart and Tyroan discuss the sandbar across the Green Rill|
|Related Logs:||None directly, a few indirectly.|
|Tower Hall, Tordane Tower|
|The entrance to the tower opens into a larger common room for receiving guests. Effort has been made to bring warmth and light to the interior, as well. Rugs have been hung from the stone walls as well as placed on the floor to bring at a welcoming ambiance. There is a large table with several chairs off to the left of the door, a cooking hearth against the back wall, and a wooden staircase that leads up. An antechamber behind the stairs is where the servants live and bed down.|
|21 January, 290|
It may not be an official meal-time, but when the Young Lord from the neighboring holding shows up, you put together some sort of spread. Tyroan sits at the high table, a scattering of breads, cheeses, and thin-sliced meats gathered before him alongside a couple of steins and a couple of ewers. In addition to the more usual fare for an early afternoon snack, there is a bowl of walnuts, although no visible means of cracking them to get to the meat inside.
Brennart makes his way up to the tower having taken the time to get cleaned up and into fresh clothes… Not that the old crusty Lord here at Stonebridge would have minded him being dirty from the road but who knows which ladies may be around and it wouldn't due to offend his wife's nose.
Tyroan rises from his seat as the Young Lord enters, coming around the table to meet the younger man and offering out his right hand, "Young Lord Erenford. Welcome to Tordane Tower." Turning back to the table, he gestures for his fellow to join him at his right side, "Can I interest you in something to take the edge of the ride off? I've good Mire beer," the harshly bitter stuff, "and wine as well."
Brennart smiles and nods as he clasps Tyroan's hand, "Some of that beer would be pleasant. How have things been here at the bridge?" As Tyroan heads back to the table he takes a seat at his right.
Tyroan moves back to his seat, stopping before he sits to pour a couple of steins of the bitter brew. He gestures for Brennart to take the one he wishes, taking all the precautions to offer the other man guestright and show that there is no attempt being made to poison him. "Tight as fuck." It's stated as if it's a constant, and one that's barely worth bothering with, "My idiot nephew pissed away coin like it was day-old wine." Collecting his own mug, he takes a swig, settles down into his chair, and half-turns to face the younger man, "And with that fucking sandbar building up every fucking day and making it harder to get barges up to the Twins, it's only making me fucking pinch pennies faster." Leaning back in his seat, he takes another drink, "Good catch you made for your cousin, even if the Eagle's fucking tall enough already to be a Heron."
Brennart chuckles, "That was all my brother and father they'd set up the betrothal before Marvish met his idiotic demise. Found out he was a bit too sure of himself rushed into a fight where he was outnumbered without his knights with him." He just shakes his head and nods, "The sandbar is actually why I'm here, it's causing Heronhurst some issues as well. I've a few thoughts on how to take care of it but it'll take too much in man power and coins for Erenford to handle on their own."
Tyroan nods his head, "We all have to deal with the idiocy of family. For the most part, we still mourn when they bite the Stranger's nonexistant balls." As the talk turns back to the matter at hand, the Steward nods once more, "My Maester's been looking into it to. For-fucking-ever, it's felt like." He takes another sip of his beer, then sets the mug down, selecting instead a pair of walnuts from the bowl on the table and beginning to roll them about in the palm of one gnarled hands, "What've you got for a fucking solution, Young Lord?"
Brennart frowns and shrugs, "A dredge. Or time. But we don't have time for the river to sort itself out so we will need to remove the sandbar ourselves. Either quickly with the normal tools for making a stretch of river deeper or by manual labor with men in the river scooping the sand out and passing it back to shore to be dumped into wagons to take it away from the banks to dump someplace else." He chuckles, "Either way it'll cost in both manpower and coin. I'd be interested to hear what ideas your Maester has, perhaps we could put together a small council between our two houses to find a solution that won't break our coffers?"
Tyroan grunts softly as the two suggestions are broached, nodding his head as he does. Settling the walnuts together in his hand, he squeezes a moment, shifts them, squeezes again, and then one of them cracks, split by the point pressure of the other. "Sounds like a good idea. Maester Taleryth suggested some idea that I still don't have a fucking clue what it's supposed to do. Maybe someone from Heronhurst can help him figure it out. His idea's something about putting some fucking board upstream that'll shift the current, and letting the fucking current wear down the sandbar on its own." He shrugs helplessly, tossing the still-whole walnut back into the bowl and picking through the shards of the split one to get to the meat, "If it works, it might be a damn sight cheaper than dredging or shifting the bar."
Brennart nods, "It would be, and that's why the maesters get paid to come up with the off the wall ideas that makes no sense to the rest of the world." He stops to think about it though, "It would be like we let the river have the time to sort it out on it's own cept a sight faster. I'm not sure who from Heronhurst could help him with this idea most of us took to becoming knights and didn't learn much else, perhaps one of the ladies? Although I'd hate to think of them working on a job like this with the Maester's idea it's more of a subtle gentle touch rather than the brute force that most knights think."
Tyroan shrugs one shoulder, dumping the shattered shell of the walnut onto a side-plate and popping one piece of the meat into his mouth, "Better that than worrying about moving fucking tons of sand and muck." Frowning thoughtfully, he nods, "A meeting'd be good. Talk about this idea, dredging, and shifting." Chuckling out a groan, he finishes off the last of the walnut and takes another swig of his beer to wash it down, "I better lay on the fucking beer. I have a feeling I'm going to want to drink right the fuck through it. Trying to figure out what the fuck is going on under the river makes my head hurt." Grunting softly, he adds, "It's not something fucking straightforward like a campaign or anything like that."
Brennart chuckles and nods, "I agree it's why I'm glad there's somebody around who thinks outside of brute force. If it's okay with you m'lord I'd like to stay in Stonebridge for a while? I can remain at the inn bring some coin back into the town, and I'll write home to have some of the smarter folks from Heronhurst head over to meet and discuss this?"
Tyroan hesitates for an almost imperceptible moment, then shakes his head, "You're welcome in the Tower, Young Lord Erenford. I'll have a room opened for you. The guards and assistance you bring down can stay at the fucking inn." He waves one hand dismissively, "Truth by told, we're doing okay now. But we're scrimping a little to save up for a Stranger's Day Masque. Figured if we hosted that, someone else'd host the other Days, since we don't have a fucking sept, and a Warrior's Day Tourney would piss away our whole fucking treasury. At least if we were going to do it right."
Brennart nods, "I'll have my things moved up to the tower then m'lord." He pauses to think, "A Warrior's Day Tourney would be a wonderful day to host, but it'd break the bank on most houses if done right cept maybe the Freys or the Mallisters. Or the Charltons." With that last bit he makes a disgusted face but drops it quickly.
Tyroan smirks faintly at the mention of the Charltons, "I don't think we have to worry about them. They won't be taking part in anything on the Cape, not if Lord Frey and his brood have anything to say about it." He waves his hand again, "Each holding'll probably just host tiny little fucking celebrations. Maybe in a year or two there'll be enough coin on the Cape for real celebrations."
Brennart laughs, "I do agree that the Charltons won't be taking part in much. Perhaps instead of lots of little celebrations we should see about one big one that the houses put some coin into making sure it's done right."
Tyroan shrugs his shoulders, "I could see Stonebridge, The Mire, Heronhurst, perhaps Kingsgrove working together on that. But can you see the Naylands and the Terricks working together on anything? Or the Erenfords and the Haighs? Or either of our houses and the Ashwoods? Or the Mallisters and the Freys? I think we would end up with another battle. That might please the Warrior, but I think it would piss the fuck out of the Father, the Crone, the Mother, and the Maiden."
Brennart chuckles, "The Ashwoods…" He just shakes his head, "I tried to heal the rift between the Ashwoods and the Erenfords… They offered a marriage between Daryl and Lady Aemy. The lil prick couldn't keep keep his prick in his pants, I should have hauled him off and chopped the damn thing off. At least her guards did their duty in protecting the Lady's honor since the so called nobleman has no honor." He just shakes his head, "I do agree we could get a few of the houses to work together for a celebration but not enough to pull it off."
Tyroan shakes his head slowly, "I heard they showed their true fucking colors there." He draws in a low breath and lets it out, leaning back in his chair, "I almost wish I had had something to fucking do with the shitstain of an Ashwood getting his head chopped the fuck off. Wouldn't have done for the girl, of course, but… would've been nice to see the look in that son-of-a-bitch's eyes right before he got a head shorter." Waving that off, he adds, "If we hadn't just had a betrothal between the Naylands and the Erenfords, I'd offer you one of my nephews for her. But if you ever decide you do want to chop the cock off an Ashwood, let me know. I'll hold his ass down."
Brennart chuckles and nods, "We broke that betrothal she's now betrothed to Lord Robben he actually seems to be the exact opposite of the rest of the Ashwoods perhaps he'll actually make something of himself. And I have to make nice with the Ashwoods if I want some of that lumber not many other places to go for it even if they're now not much better than the Fensters they used to employ."
Tyroan nods slowly, "Nothing so big. But the Terricks and the Groves have some trees." Draining off the last of his beer, he nods slowly, wiping his lips with the back of one hand, "Lord Robben. I met him. Seemed nice enough, but a little slow. Maybe your Lady Aemy can be the brains of the marriage." Grunting softly, he adds, "Who knows, another bout of idiocy and another death, and she could be Young Lady. You could end up with Erenfords as the Lady of the Mire and the Lady of Highfield."
Brennart chuckles, "It would be interesting wouldn't it? And to think that some find the Erenfords a weak house…" He just shakes his head, "So first thing for us is to get this sandbar issue fixed because it's cutting the trade down for both our houses and I don't know about you but I like see coin going into our coffers faster than it's leaving them."
Tyroan shrugs helplessly, "Heronhurst's always been damned important to Stonebridge. Even before we got here." The gentle tap on the badge attached to his leather jack suggests he's talking about House Nayland rather than this particular branch of the family. "Then you might want to watch the Haighs. They're talking to us about building a road south of your land. It'd cut Heronhurst out of trade in the Cape entirely."
Brennart hmmms and nods, "That would pose a bit of a problem. It'd be damn expensive for them to build the road and barges are still cheaper and haul more than wagons less likely to see bandits on the river than a land route… And with the loads of bandit activity on the cape I'm sure they'd flock to a road that's being used as a trade route easy prey there."
Tyroan nods his head, "They're putting up the costs. I'm not going to deny another trade route that could benefit Stonebridge." Breathing out slowly, he leans forward to pour himself another beer, "But I'd rather deal with you Herons than Lord Haystacks." Stretching slowly and knuckling his back, "I'm sure it's mostly spite anyhow, and we Harpies like to think we've got a monopoly on spite."
Brennart laughs and nods, "I'm sure it's mostly spite. The cost would be insane and the gains from it almost none. I mean the traders are still going to go with the fastest route to the most profit and the Twins is the key to the eastern riverlands. I'm sure old Lord Frey won't like to get cut out of the river trade routes either that'd start to mess with his income as well."
Tyroan shakes his head, "They'd pay Lord Walder for his losses." Shrugging helplessly, he puts in, "You Herons and the Haystacks hate each other almost as much as Rickart hates Jerold Terrick. I don't think you have to worry about it. I doubt Lord Haystacks would like to beggar his house just to piss in your breakfast. But I wanted to let you know anyhow."
Brennart chuckles and shrugs, "He could try. I'm sure there would be plenty of bandits along the route very soon after. Not that any of them would be in my employ I'd never stoop to such levels. But paying Lord Walder for his losses would destroy his coffers, and then I'd casually watch them wither away while we continue plying the river. But I'd never begrudge you all another trade route. Perhaps a road wouldn't be a terrible idea… I mean if they build it it'd have to almost be on Erenford lands… I could just connect one that leads up to Heronhurst and from there the Twins… Or find out who owns the lands that the road would have to be on since I'm sure it's not all of Lord Haystacks land."
"It would be some Nayland lands, I'm sure. And we'd be paid for it." Tyroan takes another swig of his beer, "The Cape needs more trade routes, but it doesn't need more piss-poor houses." Leaning back, he adds, "I might be raising tariffs coming through Stonebridge. If I do, no house will have its tariffs raised less than House Erenford. You helped against the Ashwoods and the Haighs. We're not going to fucking forget that."
Brennart nods, "I appreciate that. And if we're looking for better trade routes I'm sure Erenford would gladly allow a road to be built through it's lands it'd keep it from being a move out of pure spite. And if they continue to desire to bypass Erenford and make a longer and more idiotic route… Well then it shows to the Cape that they are only driven by spite and not for the good of the Cape."
Tyroan nods slowly, "A Nayland-Haigh-Erenford road might work. If they're willing to work with you. And you're willing to work with them." A servant comes in and murmurs something in the Steward's ear. The aging man drains off the rest of his beer in one long, drawn-out swallow, then sets it down with an "Ahhh." Rising to his feet, Tyroan gestures to the food and drink left on the table, "Eat what you'd like, Young Lord Erenford. Someone'll come by to help you move your things and show you your rooms shortly. The Maester can send any messages you have. Welcome back to Tordane Tower."
Brennart nods, "Thank you m'lord and the grudge between Haigh and Erenford isn't my grudge. I spent enough time away from home that I didn't pick up all of the immediate responses my siblings had."
Tyroan nods shortly at that, "But it's your father's grudge, and he's the one who'll have to approve anything. Believe me, it's a pain in the ass to have to work around someone else's fucking hissy fit." Waving that off, he adds, "Enjoy your time here. If you need me for anything, I'm usually up in the Map Room, and I'm sure my children'll be happy to show you around."