Maester Robert
Long hours in the library had become part of Robert's routine as of late. It was like his time as an acolyte in the citadel, when there was so much to read and so little time to learn it all. The chair was equally uncomfortable, his back would still start aching after a few hours hunched over a volume, even the candles were the same high quality Honeyholt beeswax. The citadel was House Beesbury’s largest customer, and they bought enough of them that even acolytes could use fine smokeless candles instead of choking, rancid tallow.
Sometime during his stay in Honeyholt Robert had lost that desire to learn. He had previously thought it was because there was nothing new to study in the Beesbury’s domain. Honeyholt’s library was respectable, but nothing compared to what was available at the citadel. But now, Robert realized it was a matter of motivation. With Barret challenging him in interesting new ways, Robert had gotten back into the studying habit. He even restructured his library routine.
First, Robert would go over his notes with a fine toothed comb. The citadel hammered in how to write neat and clean, so that even small scripts were legible. But even with that training Robert was running out of parchment and ink. He had started reusing old pages, scraping away the top layers of the skin and ink with his small knife.
After he had looked over his notes, Robert then started making a list of books to take from the shelves. Here in Honeyholt, there was no one to judge what books he took out or restrict certain sections as too valuable for him to use, and that let him expand his horizons. An eclectic mix of books would often grace his reading table, historical accounts and tax records and maester commentaries. One time Robert even found a tome of Reach history from the age of heroes which he was half certain was three quarters mummer’s lies. Sometimes he would even find strange details he had missed before, like in one of the manuscripts there were illuminations in the corner that moved when you flipped the pages quickly.
Robert would then start looking for the books he needed. It would sometimes be a challenge, because Robert kept finding books in the wrong places on the shelves, or sometimes couldn’t find them at all. He would have assumed someone was stealing them, but inevitably after he noticed a book missing it would appear again in a few days or weeks. He had been keeping an eye out for what could be happening, but because it seemed benign, he wasn’t too worried about uncovering the reason.
After finding the right books, Robert would then spend as much daylight as he could on writing and reading, guided by those fascinating ideas Barret kept bringing up. He only got up to attend to his duties as a castle Maester; checking on Lord Lytton’s health, making sure he had enough herbs and ingredients to create proper medicines, and taking care of Honeyholt’s ravens. Even his meals were taken in the library, on a separate table than the books of course.
The only restriction Robert placed on himself was that he could only use one candle a night, less out of any fear of the cost and more because he had realized that he could no longer stay up as late as consistently as he once did. So from the time Barret finished his lessons to the last drop of wax melted, Robert was in the library, working on the various ideas that had come up during him and Barret’s talks.
The most recent idle thought from the boy was last week, when he mentioned something about inheritance, but not of the lordly kind. "I wonder," he had said while bouncing little Jeyne on one leg, "there are a bunch of red roses on the hill, but not a lot of white ones. Are white roses just weaker?”
That offhand comment had sent sparks through Robert's brain. The citadel had always taught that the world followed a set of laws, and much of their work was discovering what those laws were and how to utilize them. Why should this be any different? After a quick check with Honeyholt’s gardeners, Robert was told that only two white roses would make another white rose. In fact, it was a source of a lot of headaches for the gardeners. But their annoyance was Robert’s first clue. Certain traits would only appear if both parents had them, and Robert’s mind was drawn to the auburn hair of the Tully’s.
So there he had sat, reading and writing and planning how he was going to prove this strange rule of inheritance to the citadel. So far, he had gotten the idea of finding some fast growing plant with a high degree of variety, and recording multiple generations. That should let him discover which traits would dominate their peers.
His library routine had been so ingrained in Robert's recent life that the servants did not even bother going to his room when they were told to fetch the maester. Their knocks knocked Robert out of his study. "Maester Robert? Lord Beesbury calls you to Barret's room."
"Barret? What's wrong with him?" Robert said in a slight panic as he stood up without tidying up or putting the books away. Maybe he got injured playing outside the castle? Robert knew he and those smallfolk liked to roughhouse and climb trees and such.
The servant responded through the door. "I don't really know, all I've heard is that he and Lord Alan had a fight."
Robert was at the door now and swung it open with a bit too much force. "A fight? But Alan is almost twice his size!" His voice was punctuated by the door slamming into the wall with a bang!
The servant shrugged. "Thats what I heard."
Robert was stunned for a second, before his face morphed into a frown. “Lead the way.”
~
There were only a few people in Barret’s room, but it still felt cramped. Robert had to move past a servant with a basin of water and that knight Lord Beesbury had recently recalled to Honeyholt as he made his way to Barret, who was in bed. The boy certainly looked like he was just in a fight, with his messy hair and fresh bruises on his arms.
Robert. went through the inspection checklist in his head, asking Barret questions about how he felt while he inspected the boy’s body with taps and presses. Barret didn’t report any nausea or dizziness, no confusion, and his skin was flush with color. After feeling a steady, if slightly high heart rate, Robert concluded there was no internal bleeding with a sigh of relief.
But that didn’t mean Barret was completely fine. Robert continued his examination, checking for broken bones, cuts or bruises, and if he had a knock to the brain. After a tense quarter hour, Robert stood up and nodded.
“He is not in any immediate danger,” Robert said, and he could feel the relief from the people in the room, “but something could come up. I will need to stay with him and make sure nothing goes wrong.”
Robert turned around and spoke. “Could you go and fetch my books and desk from the library so I may continue my work here?” The servant nodded and left the room.
“Good luck, Maester Robert. I am of little use in this battlefield, I am afraid, so I will leave you to your vigil.” Ser Dack gave Barret a sad look, then exited the room.
It was just Robert and Barret at that point. From his inspection Robert knew Barret wasn’t in any mortal danger, but he still had sustained injuries. The pain must have been terrible, especially for someone of his age. Luckily, Robert always carried a small satchel of useful ointments and balms, and he spread some on Barret’s wounds.
“Would you want to talk a bit?” Robert asked, to which Barret smiled softly and nodded.
Robert smiled back. Barret was practically half an acolyte, with how he always wanted to learn more. “Well, I was looking into that thing you mentioned about white roses…”
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
~
The next few days were a change of pace for Robert. He spent his time sitting at a small writing desk in Barret’s room, alternating between checking his health and talking with him. There was a constant train of visitors, from Barret’s family making sure he was okay to various Honeyholt servants poking their heads in. They visited daily, with his mother and sisters visiting in the mornings. Adrianna would hug Barret and give him kind words, as Rylene complained about how Alan was acting unchivalrous and Jeyne would pester Barret for more stories. Lytton would come at night, usually just sitting and holding Barret’s hand.
Alan hadn’t come at all. Robert thought it was for the best.
Ser Dack’s regular visits were a bit surprising at first. Robert only knew the knight as one of Lytton’s trusted men who spent most of his time on the borders of the Beesbury domain, checking on the outlying villages and warding against bandits and neir-do-wells. But it quickly became apparent to Robert that Barret was going to be squiring under Ser Dack, and the man was getting to know the temperament of his future charge.
But most everyone was busy in the afternoon, which was when Robert and Barret could get the most done. Currently, they were having lunch while working on a language of flags that could be used to communicate across distances without the use of messengers or ravens. It was more for enjoyment than anything serious, as it would be complicated and difficult to teach people, but it was an entertaining problem to solve all the same.
“I understand that turning each letter into a flag position would be effective, but most people can’t read letters. Both sides would have to be literate, and could you imagine a lord standing atop a tower, waving flags?” Robert chucked softly at his joke, but heard no response.
Barret had stopped talking, and as Robert turned to face the boy he heard a sickening grunt. Barret was choking on something in the stew!
The servant was panicking. She had dropped the bowl of stew and was calling out prayers to the seven, shouts of "get out bone!" and "Stranger pass over him!"
Robert sprung into action, as much as his knees allowed him to spring. There had been enough lords who died at feast tables for the Citadel to develop a means of dislodging particularly stuck objects. It would be a little delicate with Barret's injuries, but being hurt was better than being dead.
Robert stood Barret up and flipped him around, wrapping his arms around his chest, and pulled in and up. Barret squelched again and the servants' prayers got louder, but Robert wasn't discouraged. It usually took a couple tries, each one making the obstruction a little more loose.
Again, nothing. Again, nothing. Again-
This time, Barret coughed loudly and a grisly piece of meat flew out of his mouth and landed on the floor. Barret collapsed back onto the bed and breathed deeply, as the servant dropped down beside his bed in prayer and apologies.
Robert did another inspection of Barret, checking to see if the maneuver had made any of his injuries worse. Some of Barret’s bruises were on his chest, and Robert was fairly certain he had made them worse.
"That sucked,” Barret said as he rubbed his throat and took slow, steady breaths, “We should teach the servants how to do that. In fact, I have some other ideas on what we can teach them. I don't want that to happen to anyone else."
Robert shook his head at the suggestion. "Most people wouldn't be able to do it properly. They would just hurt the person choking."
Barret sat up slightly and looked at Robert. "They would know how to do it if you taught them. I’ve been teaching my retinue all sorts of things.”
“You’ve been teaching those smallfolk? What type of things have you been instructing them on?” Robert knew Barret liked to tell Jeyne about what he had learned, but to teach smallfolk as well?
Barret looked a bit embarrassed at Robert’s questioning. “Uhhhhh, how to read? We usually do a little bit after I arrive from my lessons. They learn more if we don’t do it for too long.”
“Interesting, and how much have they learned?” As they spoke, Robert took a moment to turn to the servant. “Go fetch some tea with ginger and honey from the kitchen.” She nodded, whipped the tears from her eyes, then left the room.
Robert turned his attention back to Barret, who responded to his question. “Well, they can all read letters. But some words are hard. I draw in the dirt and tell them what they are.”
“That is an interesting method of-” Robert was cut off by a gaggle of servants making their way into Barret’s room. As he looked closer, the four children weren’t servants at all, Robert knew all the servants from the regular checkups he did and he had never seen them before. At least, he had never seen those four children in Honeyholt servant’s clothing. They were Barret’s smallfolk friends.
The girl was the first to push the door open and head into Barret’s room, with the others following close behind. “Come on, I saw the lady leave, we need to be quick and- oh!” She seemed to only just then notice Robert sitting in the corner and froze. The rest of the group continued to move into the room, running into her, and they all collapsed onto the ground in a heap.
The boy with freckles covering his face, Robin is Robert’s memory still served him well, rubbed his head and looked annoyed. “Why’d you just stop and stare like an idiot.” Then he looked around the room and spotted Robert. “Ah.”
The four of them quickly untangled themselves and got up, trying to look presentable with disheveled hair and dusty clothes. The girl smiled and gave a small bow before speaking. “Hello, Maester. We were just… checking on Barret.”
Robert raised a hand and they stopped. “How did you get in here?” He asked.
They looked at each other, before the larger of the three boys stepped forward. “Well, there was a bunch of servants going into the castle with supplies. All we had to do was look busy and no one stopped us.” He pointed back to the door and Robert saw a collection of items there. A bucket of water, a sack of something, bolts of cloth, and a few dirty vegetables no doubt picked from Honeyholt’s garden.
Robert nodded his head. It made sense no one would bother a group of children who looked to be on an errand. “So that is the how, but I need to know the why.”
The girl spoke again. “We were super worried about Barret! He got in that fight with Alan and we didn’t see him for days.”
So it was camaraderie that spurred them to infiltrate a castle. Robert was reminded of the mummer’s tales he enjoyed so much as a child, and how he had always dreamed of having such firm friends.
As he reminisced, footsteps started echoing down the hallway. Robert looked at the children. He wasn’t too happy with them, but he didn’t want them or their family to be punished if they were caught. “Quick, hide. I’ll distract whoever it is.”
The four scattered throughout the room. One crawled under the bed, another crouched under Robert’s desk, a third hid inside the dresser, and the fourth got onto the bed and hid under the covers. The door swung open, revealing Lytton standing in the doorway.
Robert bowed as Lord Beesbury stepped into the room. He moved to Barret’s side, and Robert could only assume he missed all the hidden children because of his focus on Barret. He took Barret’s hand and spoke in a soft tone. “I’m sorry, son.”
“It’s okay.” Was Barret’s response. He was always trying to comfort the people who visited him, trying to lessen their sadness.
Complicated emotions flew across Lytton’s face. He leaned over and gave Barret a careful hug, before standing up and patting him on the shoulder. “Rest well, son. When you are better you will be squiring under Ser Dack. He is a good man, and a great knight.”
Barret nodded, and Lytton smiled as he moved over to where Robert was sitting. Robert made sure to angle himself to block most of the view to the child hiding under his desk. “Yes, my lord?”
Lytton paused and looked to where Barret was laying in the bed. “Let us talk outside.”
Robert nodded and followed Lytton to the hallway. Once they were alone, Lytton sighed and spoke. “Alan crossed a line today. Not only in how he treated his brother, but also in his disrespect towards me. He showed flagrant disrespect for my authority as his lord and father, and seems persistently unrepentant. House Beesbury cannot afford a prodigal heir. He will be spending more time in the training yard with a proper instructor, and I will find time to attend regularly. That means more work on your plate, especially as he will be having remedial lessons with you as well.”
“Quite wise, my lord. Hopefully he will realize the error of his ways through hard work and a humbling position.”
“Yes, hopefully…” Lytton trailed off as he stared down the hallway at nothing. Then, he turned back to Robert. “You should prepare a lesson on knights. True ones, not just killers in armor. Perhaps the tale of Ser Duncan the Tall will teach him what honor truly is.”
“Perhaps, my lord. I will do my best to impart such wisdom upon him.”
Lytton sighed again and rubbed a hand against his face. “Are you able to come to my solar tonight?”
Robert thought for a second before responding. “Barret’s condition is much better. I don’t think there would be much harm in that.”
“Good, there is much we have to do. Planning a feast is hard work.” Lytton left down the hall after giving Robert a nod.
Robert went back into Barret’s room, where he saw the four children gathered around his notes. Robert could hear them muttering the words, and was impressed that they got a quarter of them correct.
He was about to tell them to leave before they were caught, but then he thought about what Barret had said earlier. Choking could happen anywhere, and these smallfolk were with Barret when he was far away from the castle. And if they could learn how to read, they could definitely learn how to save someone from choking.
“Hey children, how would you like me to teach you something?” Robert said, and the four of them looked up in surprise. They looked to Barret, whose smile seemed to tell them something, and they nodded to Robert.
As Robert started the improvised lesson, a thought came to him.
