[Lore] Heeeeeeeeerrrre'ssss Edddyyy!!!

A previous night at a festival

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Edmund

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The voyage north from Kings Landing was the worst he had yet suffered.

An old hand at sea in comparison to most, damn near masterful with the running of most small crafts at the young age he had reached. Yet, still. The waves moved him in ways beyond the physical it felt.

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The waves moved as though maliciously driven. Gods had not focused heavily in his father’s teachings, nor his father’s threats. These waves make a man think though.

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Wind, wave, woman, wine and willingness. All a man needed.

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Or so his father taught, at least in his later years, after mother.

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Two fathers Edmund knew, two fathers with motivations, ambitions and loves of completely different shades.

One, the first, had dreams of saving for the future. A future planed and well thought out, with a home for his family, perhaps room for additions to that family even. He had hopes for the financial and of course physical security for his no doubt extensive decedents.

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He had laughed with the best of them, sang with the worst of them. On one often remembered night he had danced with the troop of mummers that he found in the town square on some local port towns festival night.

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A tendril of cold and unwelcome salt brine lashed the memories of his first and favourite father from his mind.

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Edmund wiped the strangely coarse water from his face and shoulders.

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His family had always hated the trip to the North, cold at times beyond reason and without much wealth to speak of so “Best avoided son” often were the words.

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Still.

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Trade was not the craft Edmund had surprisingly found himself in.

A different sort of “wealth” was sought here.

Rumours of unrest in the North was abound, where unrest lay, men needed swords.

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This was obvious.

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Although not brought up with outright open field battle in mind exactly, Edmunds father, neither of them, had failed to school him well in the general arts of fighting with fist, feet, sword, shield, spear, mace or forehead on occasion.

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His last year on the streets and in the wine dens of Kings Landing had robbed him of most of his money left to him, but had conversely improved his skill with steel no end.

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“POORRT SIIIGHTED!”

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The bellow from the sailor woke him like the wave did.

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Finally, Edmund was quite finished with being on or near the sea for the foreseeable future. First a drink in the nearest White Harbour bar, then on to…

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Well, on to somewhere that’s needing a sword. However drink, or drinks first and foremost.