>>6189950You find the two in the lady’s solar, and wait patiently outside while they finish their business. It doesn’t take long. They exit together, and are both startled to find you there.
“My lady,” Luwin says with a nod.
“Are you quite alright?” you say, on seeing the distress on their faces.
Luwin looks to the lady, who seems to give him permission to speak. “I suppose you will find out soon enough. We’ve had a raven. Jon Arryn, the Hand of the King, is dead.”
“Um, I’m…”
“Ah. Lord Stark was fostered at the Eyrie as a boy. Lord Arryn was like a second father to him.”
“Oh. Please extend the lord my sincere condolences, then.”
“That’s not the only news. The king is coming to Winterfell, along with half his court. He was fostered at the Eyrie at the same time, and Lord Stark is one of his closest friends.”
You blink. “How soon?”
“The ride from King’s Landing is perhaps a moon’s turn, but he will be slowed by heavy wheelhouses, and likely he will be feasted and feted at every castle along the way.”
“I see.” You pause, considering whether or not this is a good moment to make your request, but decide to at least raise the subject. “I sought you out to inquire as to whether you would be amenable to teaching myself and my companions to speak your language, but it seems you will likely be preoccupied for the foreseeable future; it seems I must find another teacher. That said, Maester Luwin, Lady Catelyn, if there’s any way at all I could be of service in this time of need, you need only ask.”
This seems to surprise him. “Our language, you say? You are correct that I will have other duties, but I know many among the learned of Wintertown and White Harbour. I could arrange a suitable instructor without too much difficulty.”
You smile. “I would be very much obliged if you could, Maester Luwin.”
When you relay what you just learned to the others, the news is met with something of a muted response. On the one hand, an in with the king of the Seven Kingdoms would be quite advantageous. On the other, kings are nothing new to most of you, and that his arrival is well over a month away drives home anew how long you’re like to be in this world.
“I have met kings,” Emíl says of the matter. “Rich men. Very high expectations. Too little humour for my taste.”
“We have nothing to prove beyond what our own abilities demonstrate,” you say. “Someone without sense is not a worthy client.”
Soren shrugs it off with his typical blasé bravado, but Lukas, the common soldier, seems less certain, and Senna as usual as if she wants to disappear entirely. No, this isn’t quite what either of them thought they were getting into, is it?
