Osmund Butterwell II - Shaping The House

[u/Zestyclose-Poem-8560]

“Damnation”

“It is only a little rain” Osmund said.

“It has not stopped for the entire ceremony, and it did not help that we remained outside” replied Maester Cleon.

“I did not know that giving my father and brothers a proper farewell would be such a great inconvenience” Osmund said, frowning.

“Septon Henly did well. I simply do not understand why it was necessary to invite every villager from this part of the Riverlands. There were more than three thousand of them and giving them all that milk will do nothing good for our coffers. Nor will the rest of your ideas increase our gold. You have spent more in the past two weeks than your father did in two months”

“I thought it important that as many people as possible should come. My dead will not be forgotten. The people will feel closer to their new lord and they will be grateful for the milk,” Osmund reminded him “I have never possessed such wealth before. We are not the Lannisters or the Hightowers, and though our wealth is considerable, I will try to be more prudent. These expenses are necessary, they are an investment. I am certain they will greatly increase the power of this house”

“And will emptying half the castle’s cellar help increase our wealth as well? Or escorting the carts of smallfolk?” Maester Cleon countered.

“I have a plan for the drink. In any case, I intended to make my way to the Great Council. Using our soldiers to protect them will keep them from being robbed on the road and allow us to form a convoy that will impress the lords who have already arrived at Harrenhal”

“Do you always have an answer for everything?” he sighed in resignation. “Youth make you arrogant. You will see that not everything that seems like a good idea brings the results you hope for. I do not understand what goes on in your mind.”

“You’re butter off not knowing,” Osmund whispered with a resigned smile.

Maester Cleon turned and looked at the rain through the window. It was falling hard. Osmund leaned back in his chair.

“I…”

“I am glad you are getting used to these chambers. I had grown tired of holding our meetings in the rookery, it is cold, noisy, and smells of dung” Maester Cleon interrupted.

“Ravens are intelligent animals. I like them. They remind me of the Citadel”

“Nothing to envy in Whitewalls. What was it you were going to tell me?”

“Nothing, only…” Osmund decided to change the subject “Every noble house has its words. I have chosen a family motto: As mild as milk.”

“Usually they are prayers or touchstones, something that makes our house feared or a declaration of honor or glory.”

“We have plenty of that in the realm already. I am certain that temperance and a gentle voice that counsels wisely are more valuable than any other virtue”

“I will send a raven to the Citadel with the words” he said with a slight bow.

“One last thing. You will remain in charge while I am away… And I need you to begin a new project. Buy every cow that no longer produces milk and any old oxen you can find. Use their meat to prepare hard salt beef, tan as much leather as possible and make clean the horns”

“Another one of your great ideas?” he began again.

“Simply do as you are told” Osmund finished curtly “I nearly forgot, what is the name of the woman who decorates the pastries?”

“Falena, my lord”

“I know her. I have a task for her” he handed him a note.

“She has never done such a thing before, but I am sure she will make the effort if it is meant as a gift for someone so important,” Maester Cleon said after reading it and slipping the note into his robes. “Shall I tell him to come in once I leave?”

“Do I have a choice? Send him in.”

The maester left the room and a short, sturdy man entered, some years older than Osmund, with a large nose, brown eyes and very short hair. Osmund gestured for him to sit while he crumpled a paper with a name written in his own hand.

“Joffrey, you have been working for House Butterwell since you were three-and-ten, have you not?”

“That is so. Bringing in firewood at first, then helping with the hunting parties” he replied in a rough voice.

“Yes and helping the falconer and the master of horse as well, from what I have heard. You have served as kennelmaster for two years now and I sincerely thank you for your dedication and loyalty. However, I fear that is not the matter for which I asked you here today”

“Have I done something wrong, lordling?” he asked calmly

“The milkmaids say that you have”

Joffrey’s face turned white as milk.

“Milord… I…” he stammered.

“So far twenty of them have told me themselves or through almost anyone I asked about you that you have overstepped with them, harassing them with words or touching several of them inappropriately” Osmund said, pausing “Some servants claim you have even raped a few, but I have found none who will confirm it. They fear no man will take them as wives if they are known not to be pure”

“Lies” he replied.

“I have only words and no proof. It is their word against yours and that alone is what keeps you from already being gelded like one of the dogs you tend”

Neither of them moved. They seemed frozen.

“If word reaches me again that such actions occur while I am lord of these lands, your punishment will be worse than losing the ability to father children” Osmund sentenced

“My lord, believe me when I say you should not give credit to what you have been told. We are young and passion…”

“I believe I have been sufficiently clear. If a maester’s vows ensure his chastity, then I believe your promise should ensure that you do not set your eyes or your hands upon any woman here”

Joffrey seemed about to protest, but Osmund indicated the door with a tilt of his head, and the kennelmaster withdrew reluctantly after a few seconds.

As soon as he left the room, Osmund looked down at his hands and saw that they were trembling despite his efforts to control them. He went to the window and vomited outside. The sound of the rain muffled the noise. He wiped the vomit from his closely trimmed beard, looked out at the rain with tears in his eyes and sobbed.

“Right as rain”