Don't Panic Chapter 22: The Merman’s Court

Chapter Synopsis:

Our hapless trio of merchants have captured the attention of the Lord of White Harbour. A powerful man who is keen to meet some fellow mercantile lords. Even if no-one can quite tell him where they are from. Meanwhile old Nella, our favourite unsuspecting squib, turns up in White Harbour for her nice quiet vacation. Far away from the crazy child of the forest that had apparently taken up residence in Winterfell … what could go wrong? 

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Last Time: ... Getting a bit closer to the stall, Harry was surprised to note that it was now completely empty of goods and Sirius was already packing up. It seemed sales were far more successful than they’d expected, he mused. He was pretty sure they’d overloaded those poor workmen with goods to last them at least a week.

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Chapter 22: The Merman’s Court

Lord Warrick Manderly let out a sigh as he fell back into his cushioned, high-backed chair, glad that he had the wealth for something as decadent as a duck-feather cushion. He gestured for Maester Cressen to take his usual seat and beckoned his Master of Markets to join them, taking a moment to appreciate his solar in all its glory, with a smirk of pride. 

The merchant lord was surrounded by opulent furnishings, and the trappings of wealth. Trinkets from all-over planetos sat arranged on shelves and fine wooden tables spaces around the room for maximum effect.   

The décor wasn’t just for his own enjoyment of course. It was a necessary demonstration of his family’s success in in their merchant endeavours. A sign to any business prospect entering the room, that the Manderly family were good and reliable trading partners. That they had mastered the seas and had connections in all the most important cities. 

Hand spun tapestries adorned each of the walls, depicting dramatic scenes of seafaring and far off cities, while intricately carved wooden furniture and plush cushions added to the room’s luxurious atmosphere. 

The large windows with coloured glass panels imported from Myr, alone were a clear indication of their success. The large panes allowing for ample sunlight to fill the room. Casting a warm glow on the various treasures collected by the Manderlys over the years. 

He eyed the warm rays peaking through the window, showing the early signs of summer, and illuminating his solid oak desk, which itself was intricately carved with mermen winding around each leg.  

This particular desk was carved from the keel of the first Manderly ship to bring his family to the North, after their House was exiled from the Reach those many centuries ago. A reminder of both where they came from, and the steep ladder his ancestors had to climb to build a successful foundation in the cradle of the North. 

A foundation that Lord Manderly fully intended to build on during his time atop the family tree. 

Lord Manderly was a well-liked figure in White Harbour, known for his shrewd business acumen and skilful negotiation tactics. His own sons were just as shrewd, and while they seemed focused on seeking knighthoods and adventure for now, he knew they too would make great Merchant Lords when the time came. 

His eldest son, Wyman, had just turned 15, and had been sent to squire in the Reach, seeking his knighthood and travelling among the various tournaments to compete in the lists and make a name for himself. He’d been taught well and was instructed to use this adventure as a networking expedition as well.  

While some highborn lords looked down on those involved in trade, Lord Manderly considered this completely misplaced derision to be nothing but wasteful on their part. While their lands and towns waned with the times, his House grew only stronger every Summer. He believed that there was much to be gained from commerce, and that those who chose to engage in it were often wise and resourceful individuals.  

He drew his attention back to the present, listening intently to the weekly report from his Master of Markets. It was always worth keeping a close eye on the happenings of your domain. And as the largest market town, or dare he say ‘city’, of the North, trade happenings were top of his list of concerns.  

"Another good week for the port, my Lord," Master Erwin announced, closing the ledger he always carried with him. "The flow of merchants coming in is steady and growing daily." 

"Excellent," Lord Manderly said, his voice a low rumble that hinted at his considerable girth. Lord Manderly was certainly pleased to hear the first in-flow of post winter merchants was picking-up steam, and he expected the volumes to continue to grow over the next few moons.  "I trust Lord Stark's requests are being met?" 

He had many requests from lords across the north, and from Lord Stark himself to acquire various necessities on their behalf. Things their keeps or towns had done without in winter, or even goods as simple yet crucial as food. 

Even with all those requests coming in, he made a point of meeting all of Lord Stark’s needs first. Not that they were particularly demanding. It was just good politics. Of course, he was even more set on keeping Lord Stark happy since receiving a letter just over a sennight ago talking about major road improvements planned for the North.  

It was a strange turnaround for the usually reserved lord paramount, and he wasn’t sure what might have caused it. But Lord Manderly would be behind them all the way with these new changes. Better roads meant better trade after all. 

Master Erwin, a portly man with a bushy beard and a sharp mind, inclined his head. "Indeed, my Lord. Supplies for Lord stark have already been sent. The grain shipments from the Reach have arrived, and the smiths are already hard at work forging the tools his Lordship requested. Though, there is one other matter..." 

Lord Manderly raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh?" 

Master Erwin hesitated, then said, "A trio of merchants arrived a few days ago … by land. It seemed Rather unusual, considering the season. And their wares, well, I have to admit, they have food and goods I’ve never encountered before.” 

The Lord of White Harbor leaned forward, his interest piqued. Erwin was right to bring this to his attention. The man was well travelled and had spent many years as a merchant, if he said they had goods he had never encountered before, then they must be Exotic with a capital E. This was exactly the sort of trade they wanted to encourage in White Harbour. 

"You think they are from the far east perhaps? Maybe Yi Ti or Assahai?” 

“Well no.” Erwin said in contemplation, “If I didn’t know better, I would say they were first men from the North, but the goods … well no-one is quite sure where they came from. But surely some of the fresh food they are selling couldn’t have come that far.” 

“Interesting... And they travelled by land? " His mind flashed back to a raven received some days ago from Lord Eddard Stark in Winterfell. 

The message was brief and cryptic, but he was starting to think it spoke of these three merchants in particular – foreign nobles, apparently dabbling in trade, who had somehow won the favour of the notoriously stoic Lord Stark. Edwyle had urged him to extend every courtesy to the trio … except in the form of horses, for some inexplicable reason he couldn’t even begin to fathom. 

He was even told they were owed some debt of gratitude by the North. 'Curiouser and curiouser...' he thought to himself. 

"Have you met them?" Lord Manderly inquired. "What manner of men are they? " 

"Yes, I have met them, my Lord, and I'veI’ve subtly observed them at work" Master Erwin replied, a faint flicker of amusement dancing in his eyes. "A curious bunch, to be sure. There's the young one with the unsettling green eyes – Hadrian, I believe he called himself. A pleasant enough fellow, really the brains of the operation if I’m not mistaken. Even if he doesn’t get much involved in the merchant side of things. Then there's the older one, Sirius, all charm and swagger, but not a lick of sense when it comes to business, if you ask me." 

Lord Manderly chuckled. "Unskilled in the art of the deal, you say? That's a rarity in a merchant." 

"Precisely, my Lord," Erwin agreed. "He seems more interested in… well, let's just say he has a rather unique way of handling negotiations." He paused, then added with a mischievous glint, "Though I must admit, their goods are impressive." 

"Indeed?" Lord Manderly leaned forward, intrigued. "What did they bring? Anything of note?" 

"A bit of everything, my Lord, I got this from them myself," Erwin said, his tone nonchalant as he reached into his satchel and retrieved a small, exquisitely crafted wooden box. The box was inlaid with delicate silver trim in a foreign style, he would think such high quality work could only  be done by the metal workers and jewellers of Qohor, but it didn’t match their style. It was a true work of art, and all for just a box.  

Lord Manderly hummed in consideration, his eyes glimmering as he took the box from Erwin, softly running his fingers over the fine inlays. "A fine piece, a fine piece indeed. By the Seven! What did you have to pay for this? A moon’s worth of wages at least, surely? Maybe more?" He ran his fingers over the smooth wood, admiring the intricate craftsmanship. It was clearly the work of a master artisan. 

"You misunderstand, my Lord," Erwin said dryly. "I paid nothing for the box itself. I bought two dozen fresh strawberries from Lord Sirius – a steal at five coppers for the lot – and he insisted I take the box just to hold them in. Said he had no need for it." He opened the lid, revealing a bed of plump, juicy strawberries nestled inside, certainly a rare treat in the North, especially so soon after winter. 

Lord Manderly gaped at Erwin, trying to process the idea of a merchant just giving away such a fine piece of merchandise to a customer for free. 

His eyes were drawn down to the bed of fresh strawberries, then back to Erwin, torn between amusement and disbelief. "The box is strange enough, I’ll admit, but fresh strawberries... this close to the end of winter? Where did they even find these?" 

"They claim to have brought them from Essos, by way of… well, I'm not entirely sure. Their story was a bit muddled," Erwin admitted. "Regardless, they seem to have a knack for procuring rare and exotic goods." 

Lord Manderly set the box down, a thoughtful frown creasing his brow. "Perhaps not the most astute merchants," he mused, "but exotic goods they have, and a noble willing to engage in trade… well, that's rarer than hen's teeth. Lord Stark seemed rather insistent that I meet them, and he's not one to offer empty endorsements." He steepled his fingers, considering. "I think a meeting is in order. If they have the favour of Lord Stark, and access to such unusual commodities, they could prove to be valuable allies, even if they are a bit… unconventional." 

"Yes, I think a luncheon would be best," he declared, reaching for a quill and quickly jotting down an invitation  before sealing it with his sigil ring. According to Erwin, the trio had settled in a couple of days ago, so they should have little difficulty dropping their tasks to attend him.  

Who was he kidding, they’d attend him even if it did cause difficulty. He may be a relatively affable if shrewd lord, but he had no qualms leaning on his privilege as lord of the city. In the world of Westeros, an invitation from the lord of the city you resided in was not to be taken lightly; it was more of an order than a request, and few would dare to decline. 

He chuckled to himself and subtly snagged one of Erwin’s strawberries in satisfaction. 

"Take this to the new merchants down in the square if you would Master Erwin,” Lord Manderly said, handing over the hastily scrawled invitation. “Inform them that they are invited to dine with me.” 

Erwin nodded obediently, taking the sealed invitation and hurrying off to deliver it. 

Finally getting a moment alone in his Solar, Lord Manderly leaned back in his chair and contemplated. If these newcomers had indeed garnered the favour of Lord Stark, they could prove to be valuable allies or business partners.  

Though he didn’t need to be reminded to proceed with caution. The world of trade and merchant politics was often just as rife with hidden agendas and unexpected surprises as any highborn politics.  

These foreign merchants straddled the line of both camps, being minor nobles themselves according to Lord Stark’s missive, but that could mean anything from barely landed knights to lords of foreign lands. He’d soon have his answers, and if the fine box and fresh fruits Erwin had acquired were any indication, then his answers could prove the start of a lucrative relationship indeed. 

Of course, anything that improved the economy and status of his town would inevitably serve to solidify his position as one of the most influential figures in the North. 

In-fact, building and solidifying that level of influence was essential to his House’s continued prosperity. Despite their loyalty, he had no illusions about the fact that some older Norther Lords still saw his House as an Andal interloper. Completely overlooking the fact that they could trace their line back to the ancient First Men royalty of the Reach.  

They were no Andals after-all. But he’d recently received a frustrating message telling of Lord Bolton’s generous gift to his people. Having gifted his complete stores and larder to the people in his town.  

Politically this would significantly boost the Bolton Lord’s reputation and influence amongst the Northern Lords. The stoic lord suddenly had an almost saintly image where before he was regarded as a jealous and scrooge like man, just as grim and menacing as his father, and just about every Bolton before him. 

It was honestly an absolutely genius political move by Lord Bolton, he never would have thought the man had such a brilliant political mind.  

Lord Manderly was kicking himself for not thinking of such an act of gracious generosity himself, especially now that Winter was known to be ending and he knew he could replenish his stores in short-order. Alas, it was too late to do the same thing in White Harbour, it would look like he was just copying Lord Bolton to curry favour.  

Not that it was needed either way. He made sure the people of White Harbour were well fed through winter with the plentiful supply of fish, and with food imported from the south.  

He sighed and took a sip of his best Arbor Gold, commiserating with himself over being outplayed on the opening move of the new Summer. “How on earth did that penny-pinching Bolton get one up on all of us so early” he grumbled into his slowly dwindling glass of wine. 

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The salty tang of the sea air filled Nella's lungs as she stepped off the rickety wagon, a welcome change from the crisp, pine-scented air of Winterfell.  

Her journey from Winterfell had been long and arduous, hampered by a peculiar scarcity of horses in some of the smaller villages along the way. The reason for the shortage remained a mystery.  

Though strangely, those same villages seemed to have a lot of fresh food to throw around and a fairly festival-like atmosphere for the end of winter. Something about foreign merchants … Nella never got the full story. While it was all still a mystery to Nella, she had enjoyed the distractions along the way. 

Even so, it had forced her to rely on slower, less comfortable donkey carts for much of the trip. 

Still, she was finally here, in White Harbor, the bustling port city that marked the southern edge of the North. A sense of relief washed over her as she took in the sights and sounds of the city: the cries of gulls overhead, the rhythmic clang of hammers from the small shipyard, the shouts of merchants hawking their wares in the marketplace. 

It was a far cry from the stark beauty of Winterfell, a place that had become… somewhat chaotic for Nella in the past moon. 

She had told Lady Stark she needed a leave of absence to visit family, which was technically true. Her cousin lived here in White Harbor with her husband and their young children. But the real reason for Nella's departure was far more personal, and something she would not tell her lady. 

After-all, how does one tell their employer that they keep seeing a Child of the Forest running around Winterfell. She couldn’t see that conversation ending well. 

It was like she was stuck in some kind of old wives' tale … one told by a particularly drunk old crone. The creature was small, quick as a weasel, and adorned with an absurd number of hats. And the socks! Don’t even get her started on the socks. Darn things were everywhere. On its clothes, in its pockets, even hanging from its ears, like some bizarre fashion statement. 

She saw it flitting through the halls of Winterfell, saw it lurking in the shadows of the crypts, saw it performing feats of strength that defied logic and reason. Each incident left Nella more convinced that she was losing her mind. 

The worst part? No one else seemed to see it. Or if they did, they politely pretended not to. It was enough to make a girl question her sanity! 

Nella stopped and took a long deep breath. The crisp sea air already calming her frazzled nerves. She was free of that chaos now.  

Here in White Harbor. A place where socks stayed on feet and horses remained firmly on the ground. 

Surely a change of scenery was all she needed. A nice, quiet visit with her cousin, some fresh seafood, and a stroll along the docks. Maybe even do some sightseeing and pick-up some fancy foreign trinkets in the markets. 

She'd only been to White Harbor once before, accompanying in Lady Stark’s entourage on an official visit, and hadn't had the chance to explore the city properly. She'd heard tales of the grand northern sept, a towering structure dedicated to the Seven, a stark contrast to the weirwood groves she was accustomed to. She didn’t spare much thought for the andal gods, but maybe a peek inside the Sept would be a nice way to start her trip. 

What could possibly go wrong? 

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Chapter 23 Teaser: 

“Now that we’ve travelled much of the North, and met it’s rulers” Sirus nodded to Lord Manderly who chuffed good naturedly, “we’re certainly tempted to establish a proper trade relationship with our foreign business.” 

Sirius paused, sipping his whiskey. “But for this, we’d need a writ of permission to form a company properly and trade as an organisation, rather than just three wandering merchants.”  

Lord Manderly followed the conversation, steepling his hands, and not giving anything away, wearing his best Cyvasse face. 

This was indeed the moment of truth. Individual traders were one thing, but companies could pose a threat to the power and influence of the Lords of the Seven Kingdoms. As a result, great care was taken in issuing permission to form a company.