Chapter 82: Corenna Craggner 2
Early 168 AC
An unusually gentle winter breeze blew in from Shipbreaker Bay, occasionally dusting the grounds with snow from wherever it had come to accrue upon the great walls. The great drum tower of Storm's End was not meant to host as many as the great halls of the Red Keep, Winterfell or Highgarden, but the sheer size of the tower meant it could more than easily afford to feast the great number of guests camped out within it's courtyard, protected by worse winds by the mighty walls around them. The many sturdy tents and other structures erected by the gathered lords and ladies of the Stormlands lay about the great castle wall's interior, not haphazardly splayed, but with order and prestige in mind. The greater houses surrounded the central tower with their vassals forming around them, and so on and so forth, radiating out in what must have seemed like an endless flower to passing seabirds high above.
Corenna Craggner was grateful that her shelter was erected closer to the great curtain wall, and whilst not near enough to the stables to be drenched in their stench, swirling wind did occasionally carry with it the scent of dung. Wrinkling her nose, she chose to ignore the smell and turned back to her dress for the evening, one she had not worn in some time. Even with her age and childbearing having affected her, she did feel a touch proud she had not bloated as some women had, even if her current clothes were slightly larger than they used to be. Aches troubled her where they had not, things… sagged where they never used to, and overall she knew that despite her retaining some of her youthful vigor, she was not the same as she had been the last time she'd seen her liege lord.
Nay, five and ten years was a long time to stay sequestered in her lands, unsure of the future as she struggled to rule in her son's stead. Her boy, now nearer a man than ever, was perhaps what she may have appeared as were she born a man, and with it came no suspicions as to whether he was the son of her late husband. Indeed, more than one lord had made a harmless jape of 'the wine taking on too much of the barrel' for his coloring, but Philip was a good lad and took it in as good cheer as she encouraged him to. That he had come with her had been one of their few sources of contention, one in which she had relented only so that he could finally meet lordlings closer to his age farther from the interior of the Stormlands. Young lords and ladies, heirs and spares alike, would be at this gathering, and far be it from her to halt a potential match from occurring even with the stain left behind by the late Lord Craggner.
Yet it was not within these tents that Corenna Craggner, formerly of House Wysp, would be attending such a celebration alongside her son. Nay, the grounds were too cold even with this light breeze to hold host to any sort of gathering, as opposed to the sweltering days of summers. After she had decided on her dress, one that was modest for a lady yet well enough to not be considered tawdry, she soon found herself in the great Round Hold of Storm's End alongside the great throng of visiting lords and ladies, taking in the beginnings of the feast before her. She had last lain eyes on Lord Baratheon himself before her own struggles and time in her seat at Cragghall had taken up too much of her attention. After all, she was no leader of men in wartime, nor would any proper Stormlord have expected her to be after the death of her husband. When called by her liege for the Conquest of Dorne, she had sent what few men and supplies that could be spared, then had done the same to aid in putting down the civil war in that dusty land.
Her liege lord stepped up to a great dais, Lord Baratheon's towering form drawing the eyes and silence of his many vassals. He took a long, great look at the men and women gathered, never lingering for too long on one or another, and his stern expression cracked a smile. "Welcome, my lords and ladies, loyal vassals one and all," he said, his words carrying far without so much as a hint of a shout, so powerful was his voice. "Today, near the beginning of a new year, we gather once again to commence with celebrations. Long have we recovered from our times of war and saw to the king's peace as we tended to our lands and houses. In this gathering, it is to be not only a day for us all to convene amongst the chill of a Stormlands winter, but also to celebrate the nameday of my son and heir, Joffrey Baratheon!"
A tall and strong young man stepped forward, greatly resembling his father at seven and ten. Dark curly hair, a powerful build, and with the blue eyes that seemingly every Baratheon possessed, he appeared every inch the up-and-coming Stormlord that one might expect. His younger brothers nearby, the names of whom Corenna could not recall, looked much like him in miniature.
"With these celebrations shall also, after the feast of course," Royce added, to a rumble of laughter from the gathered lords, "come a great deal of honors and titles, bestowed upon those who have earned them rightly through deeds accomplished in these years of peace. Until then, my lords and ladies, let us feast and make merry!"
The tables soon groaned under the food and drink brought forth by the castle servants, fare finer and far more abundant than the Stormlands had seen only a generation ago. Great stores of pickled and salted vegetables, with fillets carved from the fish brought in by ships and the rams and pigs fattened by the end of autumn. All manner of the popular Marcher beef cuts were smoked and roasted to mouth-watering perfection in copious amounts of salt and pepper, the latter far less expensive thanks to Dorne's new integration and proximity. Citrus from Dorne and preserved fruits of the Stormlands offered a taste of sweetness in an oft dreary time of year. Fine drinks were near a category unto themselves, with flagons and goblets wafting the aromas of ale, mead, whiskey, brandy, and untold amounts of Dornish wine.
It truly was a sight to behold, and try as she might to enjoy the festivities, Corenna did not feel the same cheer as her fellows despite putting on the front of doing so. Even the strong taste of a Stormlands brandy that brought a heat to her belly did not soothe her inner turmoil. Time and time again there had been setbacks in her goals of renewing the honor and wealth of her late husband's house. Long and arduous had her journey been, as every newfangled tool from her neighbors had to be purchased and used with care that few else could hope to mirror. The smallfolk in her lands were not plentiful, their labors hard, and even as conditions slowly improved, she suspected more than a few villages had sent young men to work in other lands to send their wages back.
While this meant she need not worry about a tax revolt, as the money sent back had supported her own coffers, it did mean she had less men to draw from for her other needs. Fewer men to partake in levies, fewer still who could be raised to men at arms, and few available during the seasonal lulls between planting and harvesting to partake in other projects she so desperately needed to succeed. Harvesting season meant there was little else she could accomplish whilst the majority were bundling and storing the crops that would hopefully see them through the unknowable winters that followed. She had been on the edge of a knife for almost a decade now, and her nerves were finally beginning to calm in this hopefully lasting peace.
Yet even in peace, far from the games of lords and farther still from the conflicts of these past years, it was not an easy rule. The singular Wytchroad through her lands had taken longer to build due to these compounding issues, especially when compared to her neighbors. Fields took longer to sow even with the additional plows, seed drills and harnesses for what few draft horses she had, and whilst she had progressed farther than the lands of House Craggner had originally been all those years ago, when compared to other Stormlords, she felt even further behind. The worst was that she could only lay the blame at the late Lord Craggner's feet, and with it her aggravation at her situation continued to fester, like a rash that never sickened her but in turn never faded or reduced. A saddle sore that no amount of rest or ointment could soothe, and so it chafed at her nerves, her determination, her drive to ensure the house her son would inherit would not fall by the wayside.
So much of this bounty, so much of this prosperity, so much of it rapidly becoming available throughout the Stormlands, and she felt excluded from it all despite her best efforts. Seven hells, there were lords that exported grain when a generation before they perpetually imported it, while her own yields had only begun to noticeably improve within the past five years. She lacked the manpower, she lacked the connections, she lacked and lacked and lacked, and yet… there were those that never seemed to.
Some lords always had fellows who would come to their aid at their mere mention.
Some lords never experienced ruinous storms or floods, droughts or wildfires, fevers sweeping through villages or pests ruining stores of grain.
Some lords always seemed to come out ahead, no matter the opposition or obstacle.
Her fists clenched beneath the table, her eyes spying the lord in particular who had so graciously offered her the means of regaining the honor lost by her late husband. For all that he had been magnanimous in victory, Corenna's stomach burned at the sight of Lord Wytch seemingly enjoying a life he had never struggled for as she had, surrounded by lords young and old alike as he recounted some story amidst the feasting.
Did some part of her wish he had taken her up on her offer of passing his own child as her late husband's? Yes, for he had indeed grown into a strong, handsome man, and were it not for the late Lord Windhill's granddaughter, Corenna might have been the future Lady Wytch instead. A fair price to pay, and certainly one last slight against her late husband, to be taken to the marriage bed by the young man that had slain him in battle. Even if the name of Craggner may have died then and there, would that have been so bad? Then instead of fretting over lands that struggled to catch up with their surrounding neighbors, then she might have been the one enjoying the fruits of labors that always seemed to succeed, that brought silver wherever the lord walked and prestige wherever his name was spoken. Had they married, no doubt she would have had daughters as well as sons, seeing how often Lord Wytch and his wife were expecting.
A not only fruitful but mutually enjoyed marriage bed then, as their displays of affection were well known by this point…
She closed her eyes and exhaled slowly, trying to calm the burning inside her. No, no, she mustn't dwell on that, she mustn't imagine herself in Lady Wytch's stead, that path led to envy and was a sin in the eyes of the Seven, to say nothing of the lust that it inspired for a happily married man. There was no point in dwelling on such a potential world, even if the stray thought of daughters with her hair and Lord Wytch's eyes oft clawed at her heart. Even the thought of a son with Lord Wytch's coloring upset her.
Speaking of her son…
"Mother, might I visit with Lord Wytch and his ward? My studies have prevented me from leaving Cragghall to meet them, and I wish to better acquaint myself with our neighbors."
Corenna bit back a sigh, the earnestness in her son's voice doing little to quell the stubborn ember of dismay that flared to life in her belly. How fitting it was that despite the circumstances of how he had been conceived, her eldest child had grown hearing the tales surrounding Lord Wytch, and had latched onto them like a lamprey with a salmon. The very same man who had killed Philip's 'father' days before it was apparent she was with child.
"Philip, are you certain you would wish to do so? Lord Wytch is surrounded by admirers and other young lords wishing to hear some of his tales."
"Mother, if I am to be a man, then I must associate myself with other men. My younger brothers are fine for play and comradery, but I am the eldest and must look to both my future and the future of our house by ingratiating myself with others. How else am I to redeem House Craggner's name for the ills of my father's actions against our neighbor?"
Corenna bit back another sigh. Her second marriage to a knight had at least allowed for her to have more children, even if they did not carry the Craggner name. Her current husband had at least been of the mind to take her maiden name of Wysp as his own, and whilst her younger children would never be a threat to her eldest or her nephew, she gave them the love they needed whilst focusing on Philip's future with as little favoritism as she could. In addition, Corenna had purposefully avoided trying to make a generational enemy of her neighbor, especially when rearing her eldest, but she had not quite expected Philip to develop a fascination with Lord Wytch that bordered on admiration. He sided more with the man that killed his 'father' than the deceased, and something about that made her feel uneasy, despite being better for appearances. Long had she kept him away from the world, but he was near a man now, and it was not within her to deny him as she had so often before.
"Very well, my son," she said softly, "but first, I have a pair of questions for you, as this is your first time in attendance with so many other Stormlands houses. The man sitting on the far side, right of the Bucklers, to what house does he belong?"
Philip stared for a moment, clearly not expecting such an impromptu lesson. "Kellington?"
"No, my son, that is House Swygert, an easy mistake to make," she replied. There were reasons she asked this, but he did not need to know them… yet. "The man to his side, speaking with one of the Swann knights?"
"That would be… Tudbury," he replied. "The sigil of the Estermonts is not brown, but green…"
"Indeed, the brown tortoise of Tudbury is distinct, and though not a large house, they are among the houses nearest the Boneway and are a direct vassal of the Swanns themselves."
"Mother, is it truly the right time for such lessons? Would it not be better to sit amongst them and learn from them, rather than merely from parchment and maester lessons?"
"I suppose so," she said, making a show of reluctantly conceding. "You may sit with Lord Wytch if he so allows it, but you must return to my side should he be called away by other lords, or if I am in need of your presence."
"I shall, and thank you, mother!" her son whispered with glee, whisking himself away to the table holding Lord Wytch and the gaggle of lords and their heirs.
Corenna hadn't seen Philip this excited since she'd gifted him his first pony.
"I am certain he will be welcomed amongst them, Lady Craggner," a voice said, and Corenna turned in surprise to find a familiar figure approaching, a winged heart emblazoned proudly on his surcoat. "Young men tend to get along better when their elders are watching over them. Cools the hotter blood, so to say."
Regaining her composure, she smiled politely. "Lord Toyne, it has been some time," she replied. Her aunt had married the former Lord Toyne, and whilst not close, she had kept in contact with her cousins over the years, especially since the death of her first husband. That they had been unable to aid her over these years remained a sore point.
"Your letters of Philip do him justice, cousin," the man replied, his hair just beginning to grey, but no less thick as it had been in their youth. "He seems to be coming well into his manhood whilst being gregarious, patient, and more than willing to listen to others. Were it not for your situation, as we have written before, I would have been more than willing to foster him."
"Were he not an only child from my late husband's loins, I would have gladly done so, cousin," she replied. "Yet keeping him safe might have gone against what we have discussed in the past, for he has taken a… liking to Lord Wytch."
"Ah, yes, the young lord from the young house," Lord Toyne said, glancing over. There was no hate in his gaze, but there was an odd note to his voice that Corenna could not place. Distaste, perhaps? Great gatherings such as these almost always involved politicking amongst lords and ladies, but thankfully to any distracted onlookers, theirs was simply cousins catching up after so long apart. "Up and coming for years now, with no end in sight to his achievements, nor how high he may rise."
"His ambitions are remarkably small, and yet they always seem to blossom into greater things," she replied. "The others think him a threat?"
"Aye, as no Stormlands house so young has accomplished so much in so little time, not for many generations at least," Lord Toyne replied. "To see it for myself is worrying, considering the troubles that come with such a rapid rise in status among young houses. The histories that Lord Swygert's elder sister is fond of often speak of conflicts within and without, among other troubles, and far be it from me to simply allow such problems to come our halls."
Corenna knew she was not as well-versed in the histories, but there was truth to her cousin's words. Such rises could spawn greater ambitions, with successive generations falling to vices and sins that could lead to greater calamities than had been seen in centuries. Rumors swirled as to the reasons for the extinction of the Greystarks far in the North, and their own histories were littered with similar disasters. "Our lord seems unworried by the ascension," she replied, her cousin taking a seat by her side. "What have the others to say?"
"Our worries vary, but they all circle back to the young lord. He is crafty enough that some have begun to doubt the veracity of his humble ambitions. Improving the lives of his smallfolk? Securing the stability of his lands and ensuring their development? An illusion, Lord Tudbury calls it, a mummer's farce to distract us from goals he keeps close to his chest." Lord Toyne frowned, glancing her way. "That he has ensnared older, stronger houses has not gone unnoticed, especially by those sworn to such houses, or in turn sworn to them. We are finding that even the most minor of lords, with little more than a large manor or tower to their name, see this struggle as worthy of support when voiced the proper way."
"How many?" Corenna asked.
"Half a hundred by now, though our efforts at recruitment have been… slowed, as of late. Winter forces introspection when one does not leave their keep and some houses have been deemed too dangerous to include in greater plots."
"I see," Corenna said. "Tudbury may be onto something. Lord Wytch marries the last Windhill and ties himself to the Marcher lords. He marries his first sister to House Selmy and further ingratiates himself into their midst, securing his borders fully to the west and south. What of his talks of marrying his second sister to a Buckler?"
"I have been able to confirm them to be true, though they have not yet reached the point where the match is certain," her cousin replied. "Any who could possibly attempt to marry the Buckler has already declined due to the young man's… proclivities, and any apparent reversal will be viewed with suspicion."
Corenna scowled at that. Had they come together years before, their alliance would have been able to more effectively put together some kind of coalition against the rise of such a young house. Yet their hastiness and the troubles that had drawn their attention for so long had let chance after chance slip between their fingers. As it were, secrecy would now be their greatest ally, as most were indifferent to House Wytch, and yet far too many for her liking had tied themselves to the house in one way or another.
"That eliminates the Bucklers, Selmys, and most Marcher lords as potential allies in our struggle," she replied. "Yet with his connections to not only our liege lord, but also to a prince of the realm, we will have to tread very, very carefully. Any hint of subterfuge outside of the letter of the law could bring untold calamities upon our heads and houses, ones that I cannot afford when my son is so close to becoming lord."
"The same will occur if we do nothing, cousin, as despite all that we have profited from the rise of Lord Wytch, his continued rise is a threat to us all," Lord Toyne said. "I shall speak to the others in the meantime. If you should wish to join in our struggle, meet with me after the feast in my tent."
Corenna spared her departing cousin a nod before turning her attention back to her son, who seemed in high spirits at Lord Wytch's table as the feast went on. Her stomach occasionally curdled at the sight, her son sitting happily in the presence of the very man whose house was outpacing in a decade those who stretched back centuries. It was even rumored he had been knighted alongside Prince Baelor for some deed before the civil war in Dorne, though the details remained ever-changing from the bards. She did not care that House Wytch had outpaced House Craggner, a fitting punishment for her late husband's hubris, but the fact Lord Wytch continued to see success whilst she struggled was an aggravation she could not ignore.
Could she have sought his assistance at some point after the terms for their peace had ended? Certainly. Would other houses have looked down on her for it, groveling before a younger house that had defeated them? Even more certainly. Would her son's image have been tainted by such perceived weakness on her part? Without a doubt, and it was for him that she had not sought out aid from her former husband's former foe. Now, was she paying the price for her pride, yet another sin before the eyes of the Seven? Or was she simply playing true to the great games between lords and ladies?
Philip returned to her side as the feast began to wind down, and Lord Baratheon declared for lords and ladies to come forward. Honors long overdue from the wars in Dorne were handed down, from valor recognized upon the battlefield, to the successes in fending off pirates along their shores, to the knighting of many young men who had finally earned their spurs. Lands in the region of the Boneway were distributed to neighboring lords, new branches from old houses, or to worthy vassals, some older than her own house and some freshly raised in the war's aftermath. Whispers around the hall believed these would be yet another series of stopgaps and defenses against an incursion by Dornish raiders, though such foes had not been seen since just before the Conquest of Dorne itself.
She did not know if it would last, but considering what had been done to the last lot that had tried their luck in such an endeavor, perhaps the border would face a reprieve for a generation or two. Lord Wytch was then called forth by Lord Baratheon, the hall growing even quieter than usual, and Corenna held back a scoff as he knelt before their liege lord. Just what had he earned this time? He had already been knighted alongside the prince years ago, had earned recognition and fame for his songs and drive to improve his lands, was known for his generosity to his betters, and was known to have a beautiful wife and family by his side. What more could he receive?
"Lord Wytch, years ago I set forth a task for you. Do you recall what this was?" Lord Baratheon said, his voice loud and clear in the quieted hall.
"To steward the lands to my south and east, lands formerly of Houses Greycairn and Galewood, my liege," he replied. "To ensure they remained unblemished by plague or banditry, continued to pay their taxes and fulfill obligations to House Baratheon, and remained in good standing both morally and productively after the extinction of those two storied houses."
"In your stewardship, what have you accomplished?"
Lord Wytch remained kneeling. "I have seen to the welfare of the lands and the people within. The smallfolk know peace and prosperity, with full granaries, bellies and lives. Every settlement greater than a village now contains a sept much like mine own, so that the blessings and protection of the Seven might continue to shine upon them. All taxes are collected and duly sent to Storm's End, the roads are swift and safe, and the children know little of the touch of death. Whilst they are not as numerous as mine own lands, they want for little and produce far more than before."
"You have done well in this task I set before you, Lord Wytch," their liege replied. "In light of your accomplishment, and with the extinction of the Houses Greycairn and Galewood, these lands sit empty of leadership and bereft of claimants. Such prosperous and developed lands require a guiding hand to not only ensure that they remain so, but so that they may yet improve upon any inadequacies. I would name these lands as yours, my vassal, to divide amongst your sons and their sons as you see fit, should that day come to pass."
"You honor me, my liege," Lord Wytch said, the bated breath of the hall suddenly abuzz with soft murmurs. "I pledge before the whole of the Stormlands and the Seven to uphold your faith in me and my house, and to rule these lands as fairly and justly as I have stewarded them."
Corenna's hands curled into the tablecloth that concealed them, her face calm but her mind awhirl and her patience suddenly undone. She needed to speak with her cousin immediately.
"This… does change things," Lord Toyne muttered, the flickering torchlight occasionally casting his face into shadow. "Tell me, cousin, what do you know of the lands he has suddenly been granted?"
With hands folded in semi-prayer, Corenna hoped for answers to come from the Seven as to their plight. "The Galewood lands are heavy in timber and related goods, whilst the Greycairn lands are much closer to the mountains, rich with stones and varying veins of ores."
"Well, given the border with you is no longer to be an impediment to his access, there goes our chance for you to just slowly siphon his funds through tolls," her cousin replied, rubbing his face. "He has nearly tripled his lands and almost doubled his smallfolk in one fell swoop, and there is no telling how much more he may gain from them if he invests in them as he did his original lands."
"Any investment will take time, which is why we must strike now, while the advantage is not as insurmountable," she countered. "He has enriched us all, yes, but is climbing much too fast for those in our circle. Anything that he profits from must become ours as well, lest he leave us well and truly behind, and with how powerful his growing circle of allies has become, simply exerting our own influence upon such a young house is no longer a viable option."
"Were it not for the age disparities and the clear loyalty, I'd have thought Lord Wytch would already be attempting to betroth one of his daughters to another powerful house, but it would seem he too finds such young matchmaking distasteful," Lord Toyne said. "Unless… of course, that may not be where his ambitions lie."
"What?"
"Prince Baelor is set to marry shortly, as is the king. What if Lord Wytch seeks to marry a daughter of his to a son of the prince, should one be born?"
"The kingdoms would never stand for that," Corenna hissed. "It would be an outrage, a scandal not seen in a generation."
"It would not be the first time the Targaryens went against the wills and wants of the houses of Westeros," her cousin said. "The fiasco with the Strongs was one of the many reasons behind the Dance, dear cousin, and though there are no dragons left to burn armies to ash, there are still enough men and arms to make another war just as destructive, especially with another kingdom, however weakened, now in the mix."
"So if he were to succeed in betrothing a daughter of his to a future son of our prince, should that marriage come to pass… he would be able to influence the entirety of Westeros through his grandchildren," Corenna said. Was Lord Wytch that cunning, to be able to look that far ahead and utilize his charm, apparent piety and friendships to ascend? Was this another Hightower in the making, only far less zealous and far more patient? He played his part as the humble lord of a young house far too well for his well-known friendship with 'the Fyrestorm' to be a mere coincidence.
"Whatever the case may be, cousin, our plans will have to go forward," Lord Toyne said. "Tolls for his merchants in all our lands will be increased. There will need to be occasional delays with clerks that will see goods ruined by pests or exposure. Merchants will be rewarded for banding together to keep Wytch merchants stifled or unwelcome in ports and trading towns. Attractive offers through third parties to disparate members of his staff or their kin will bring us and our allies outside of the Stormlands closer to trade secrets he has been hiding for years."
"What do they seek?"
Lord Toyne shrugged. "Anything we can get our hands on, from the knowledge behind the Wytchstone, to the process for his brandy and whiskey, all the way to how he originally made his cattle so large and burly in so short a time."
"He does have a great deal of secrets, to say nothing of the scribes and scholars that have passed through my lands to visit his 'Academy' in Lowhill," Corenna said. She'd sent a few of her younger scribes there, discreetly of course, and they would likely be reporting back by the time she'd returned home. "Still, cousin, we are dealing with others from outside of the Stormlands? Are we truly reaching that far?"
Were the others truly that desperate for aid as to involve outsiders in their affairs?
"Indeed, but best you do not yet know their identities. They have had… troubles with Lord Wytch in the past and will provide for us a great deal of coin and supplies for these endeavors. However, this must be known within our circle as an endeavor we have started and shall lead, and even if they supply and support us, these outside influences must be kept away from the notion that they somehow command us. This is a matter for the Stormlands and nothing more."
"How far from our lands are these… influences?"
Lord Toyne smiled. "You'd be surprised how many interested parties come from beyond our shores, cousin. Be that as it may, however, these again must remain secret. Forgive me if I hold these cards close to my chest, but it is best for you and Philip that your ties to this, if somehow uncovered, remain… minimal, and easily dismissed as coincidental."
Corenna once more felt annoyance creep into her belly at her downplayed involvement. There had to be more that she could do to aid in this endeavor after all these years of struggle! "Very well then, my lord. I will reach out to those I can who may be favorable towards our goals."
"Until then, cousin."
Corenna rose without another word, her shivering guard outside the tent falling quickly into step behind her as she ventured back to her own tent. The smells and sounds of the camps were slowly quieting, as the alcohol had seen more than one lord fall into a stuporous slumber and the night grew on. Were it not for the gentle shadows cast by the stars in the clear winter sky, she might have needed torchlight to pass through the rings upon rings of tents that filled the great yard.
Words carried on the wind, not of conversation or plotting, but of a song. The voice was familiar, though muffled by the occasional flapping of tents and the snort of a nearby horse, and despite her son likely already asleep in his tent, and her bones aching for rest, her curiosity got the better of her. Her guard in tow, she slowly approached a small open fire, far enough to not risk the tents, where a small group of men had gathered to listen. Had one of the bards left the halls to seek patronage, or perhaps additional coin for their performance?
Then her eyes spotted the singer, and her curiosity soured. Departing as quickly as she'd arrived. She cared not about the ship of which Lord Wytch sang, nor why this 'Edmund Fitzgerald' seemed to capture the attention of his fellows. Yet the anger in her heart was not reserved for his neighbor alone, but now included those she had decided to throw her lot into with. Why did they not think she could do more? Why did her cousin seem content for her to simply skimp coin with tolls from the untold wealth Lord Wytch was accruing?
"There must be more I can do," she muttered. Briefly, the thought of seduction crossed her mind, but just as quickly she discarded it. She would not bring shame upon her son for such fleeting pleasure, and she doubted Lord Wytch would ever stray from his wife willingly. Yet… what of the Lady Wytch? She had not met the woman yet, only corresponded on occasion.
Corenna felt a small but wicked smile form. It would not be neighborly of her to continue in her isolation. Why, the Lady Wytch was perhaps the closest noble lady she had for a neighbor, and it would only be a sign of mending their previous relations if she were to… befriend Lord Wytch's young wife. Perhaps then she might find an inroad in which she might take advantage of this?
Yes, that was it. It would seem she had a letter to write come morning.