[center][color=#eda9c4][h1]House Bolton[/h1][/color][/center]

[hr][right][color=gray]The Dreadfort - Three weeks before the tournament[/color][/right][hr]

Sunlight had become scarce and night soon beckoned yet it felt as if an eternity must pass before lord Rycann of the Dreadfort could retire for the day. He had been listening to the trouble that befell his small folk, one after the other, since what felt like daybreak. How he longed for the days where a steed and a sword were his only concerns out on the hot fields of Essos. Nostalgia for an uncertain time now seen clearly with enjoyment kept his apathy at bay. 

Still, the Redmark's daydreams would be interrupted.

[b]"... And as such m'lord, I ask you on behalf of the small folk for a lighter tax burden due to the harvest failure."[/b] Those were the only words he had paid attention to from the latest petitioner. The man was well-dressed in southern fashion but had a full beard typical of that of a Northernman. If he had to hazard a guess? This was a freeman from White Harbor. What game was this upstart playing at, Rycann pondered to himself. 

[b][color=#eda9c4]"Why would I reward failure?"[/color][/b] Rycann quipped. The petitioner was caught offguard, mouth agape as he tried to recompose himself.[b] "A-as I mentioned m'lord, without coin for supplies not only would the small folk starve but traders such as myself wou-"[/b] Before the petitioner could finish, Rycann had signalled his household guards to take the man away. Such naked greed was unbecoming and he had enough of dealing with that for a lifetime.

Still, this wasn't the first time today he had heard of trouble among the small folk's harvest. It wasn't quite winter yet but the threat of starvation and instability had to be taken seriously. How Rycann had wished that they could just stated their pleas all at once instead of doing so one by one throughout the day though. Before he could lament further, the next petitioner had entered and it was his own son Alaric. While a common sight within the walls of the Dreadfort, the Bolton boy did drag along an interesting [i]companion[/i].

[b][color=#eda9c4]"Alaric, why do drag a man bound and gagged to my court."[/color][/b] the Redmark stated dryly, staring at a beaten up peasant stripped down to rags. 

[color=#eda9c4][b]"My lord father, this criminal had been caught poaching on our lands. I have brought him before you to exact justice."[/b][/color] Alaric responded with greater enthusiasm as he yanked the chains of the criminal.

The lord of the Dreadfort could only rub the side of his face at the response to his inquiry. [b][color=#eda9c4]"Lad, why do you waste my time? You are born of this house, you are free to administer justice in our name. Cut off this thief's hands and feed them to Brack's hounds for all I care."[/color][/b]  

The accused could only weep at his fate as he was met with uncaring silence from everyone else at court. As Alaric dragged him away with ease, the next petitioner would be yet another peasant in somehow even worse clothing. [b]"Milord, troubles over the Weeping Water's coast has scared my hens and they do not lay as muc-"[/b]

Rycann simply stood up and walked away. He had taken all the foolishness he could bear for today. 


[hider=Summary]
The small folk of the Dreadfort are all complaining and Rycann has heard enough of their petitions. Unfortunately, he might have skipped over a peasant's sighting of trouble sailing his way.
[/hider]