Daemon

He was riding Angel through the woods near Highgarden. It was a bright summer day and Lady Olenna was throwing a tea party that he was trying to escape. Glancing back through a blur of green, he saw a blonde rider following him, laughing and jeering, sword drawn, blood dripping from it. Daemon rode faster, but the rider behind him sounded closer. Fury overtook Daemon. I'll show the smug bastard. He turned Angel around to confront his enemy, sword drawn, but suddenly he was on a barren rocky cliff overlooking the sea, a curtain of dark gray clouds hanging thick in the sky. On the sea, was a ship with black sails and a grim-faced black cloaked crow....  He was no longer riding Angel, but standing alone on the cliff, the sound of hoofbeats approaching from behind, keeping time with his own thundering heart. Something ice cold on his neck---

Daemon started awake to the view of Angel looking down at him, the horse's cold hoof nudging his neck gently. He could hear rain falling on the roof of the Greentree Inn's stable. He rose and checked Angel's wound. It was healing nicely. Yes, I can take him on this journey, today. He looked out the window. It was still dark. The kitchen of the Greentree was lit up, however, and the cook was bustling around preparing breakfast for the guests. A window suddenly blossomed with light allowing Daemon to peer into the empty tavern dining room.

Daemon strode quickly over to the inn and went up the stairs. The door to Rudolphus's room was ajar and there was light coming from it. He briskly opened the door, startling the young Maester inside. Rudolphus's things were half-packed.

"I need to borrow the Maester's inkpot and quill for a bit. It will only take a few minutes," Daemon said.

"Uh, well. Uh, all right," the nervous young man rummaged through a box and found the items. "P-p-paper?" he asked.

"Yes, thank-you." Daemon retreated downstairs with his writing implements and found a snug in the corner of the tavern hall. The inn had mostly cleared out in the past couple days. The hustle and bustle of the tournament had completely died. The young Dornishman, Tigor Wyl, who they had known as Bryan Telson for most of the tournament, had left with Iris Costayne, heading back to the Reach to ask for her hand. The Lugus' family had disappeared rather quickly, not surprising considering their son's treachery.

Lyle Brewer, the innkeep walked up to Daemon's snug and snidely asked, "Water, Ser Daemon?"

Daemon smiled broadly without mirth. "Why, yes. Please. Thank you, innkeep." Lyle turned away and Daemons face quickly reverted to a flat expression. Lyle returned a few moments later with a glass of water. He hesitated looking down at Daemon and then said, "My father used to say there ain't no such thing as a man without vices and beware the man who won't show 'em plain." He set the water down and walked away.

Daemon bent to his task. An hour later, his letter completed and water consumed, along with a couple hard boiled eggs, Daemon returned the ink and quill to the young maester. He took his letter over to Lyle and asked for a candle. He poured candle wax on the edge to seal the letter.

At that moment, Weylan Pebble walked in the inn, carrying a travel pack and his bow. He nodded in the knight's direction, "Ser Daemon. My lady has sent me to assist House Cockshaw on their mission." Daemon shrugged at this.

Berowne glided down the stairs in a citrus scented cloud. "Weylan! I hope your visit means your Lady wishes to accompany us on this journey!" he beamed.

Weylan nearly rolled his eyes but seemed to think better of it. "No, mi'lord. I was sent to assist you on your journey. Her ladyship will be staying in King's Landing for a wedding."

Berowne went pale and became suddenly flustered, "Wedding? What wedding? Whose wedding? She's not---?"

"Lord and Lady Cressey's daughter, mi'lord," Weylan said. He sighed impatiently and looked around the room. He caught Daemon's eye again. "How long can we expect this trip to take, Ser?"

"Well, Rudyard Waterman is a Northman. Lives near White Harbor from what I've heard. Been up that way before?" He was trying to feel out this man-at-arms.

Weylan looked around the room. "Can't say I have."

Berowne, suppressing some irritation at being left out of the conversation, said, "All will soon be clear, gentlemen. We meet with Jon Arryn and his Majesty this morning. They have news pertaining to Waterman of some import." He swept his gold colored scarf over his shoulder and strode over to bar, head high. "Innkeep! Breakfast for my party, please." Weylan rolled his eyes and sighed deeply.

Berowne leaned over the bar and quietly asked Lyle, "Any news of my Maester?"

Lyle regarded him slowly and then said, "Nope." He shrugged and turned his back on Berowne, tossing a bar towel over one shoulder.

Poor Berowne, thought Daemon. He's more worried about Rudolphus than he lets on. "I broke my fast already," Daemon says to Berowne. "I have to run an errand and tend to Angel. He needs new shoes and a dressing change." He quickly headed out into the rain, dark gray clouds looming above.