Harrenhal's Stables

A young blond nobleman stepped out of the tailor's shop.

He wore a dark purple hunting outfit sewn from exquisite brocade and velvet, with a mantle woven of silver thread and soft red-gold silk draped over his left shoulder. The broad, rugged, flamboyant lapels on his chest clearly displayed the layered contrast between the two fine fabrics of the lining and outer surface.

Around his waist was a gilded belt embroidered with blooming flowers, from which hung an exquisite Lion sigil sword.

This hunting outfit was said to have once belonged to a sworn knight of House Rowan, yet it was now being sold in a tailor's shop directly under Lady Rowan. Fate truly was fickle.

Ever since House Rowan had been granted Harrenhal in 281 AC, it had once become one of the most prominent families in The Riverlands, the strongest vassal house there.

That very year, the Earl of Rowan held a grand tournament here. The Crown Prince Rhaegar Targaryen, the Dragon Mother's elder brother, won the Jousting Tournament.

But afterward, he rode past his own wife—Princess Elia of House Martell of Dorne—and placed the crown of Winter Roses, symbolizing the Queen of Love and Beauty, upon the lap of Lyanna Stark, who was then betrothed to Robert Baratheon, Duke of Storm's End and now the king upon the Iron Throne. It sparked an enormous scandal.

Soon afterward, Lyanna was suspected of having been abducted by Prince Rhaegar. Her father and brother subsequently died at the hands of the "Mad King," Aerys Targaryen II, after seeking justice for her.

The following year, 282 AC, the War of the Usurper that reshaped the political landscape of Westeros erupted. Jon Arryn, Duke of the Eyrie and lord of The Vale, raised the banner of rebellion and named Robert Baratheon its leader. Together with House Stark of The North, House Tully of The Riverlands, and House Baratheon of The Stormlands, they spent two years overthrowing the Targaryen Dynasty, which had ruled Westeros for nearly three hundred years.

House Rowan of Harrenhal, however, lost most of its power for mistakenly siding with the royalists.

Even today, the Countess of Rowan, ruler of Harrenhal, could only put a small fraction of Harrenhal's halls into use, and commanded fewer than a hundred men.

The weapons, armor, clothing, and jewels that had once belonged to House Rowan's knights and ladies were now being sold through businesses directly under the Countess of Rowan, helping to subsidize House Rowan's increasingly unsustainable finances.

To buy this well-fitting hunting outfit and belt, Ian spent 5 Gold Dragons and 180 Silver Stags. Praise the old blacksmith.

In short, Ian had already spent most of his funds in order to make himself look more like a true noble.

As a result, he was somewhat strapped for cash when it came to replacing his horse with a better one.

Leading his horse to Harrenhal's stables, Ian began to consider whether he could use his identity as a Lannister noble knight to swindle—borrow—a good horse from Lady Rowan's stablemaster.

After all, Lannister was the richest family in all of Westeros, and it had always carried the motto, "A Lannister Always Pays His Debts." If he offered enough in return, perhaps he really could borrow a good horse.

After showing the stable guards his identity as a Lannister knight, Ian successfully obtained permission to enter and look around.

The moment he stepped into Harrenhal's empty stables, Ian was overcome by a sense of desolation.

It was an enormous structure. Judging from its area and the number of stalls, it could likely have housed a thousand horses without issue.

Yet now, it seemed that less than a tenth of it remained in use. Around thirty horses were kept in one corner, serving as the last remaining proof that House Rowan of Harrenhal still existed.

Ian had once visited the stables of an old castle in Europe. According to the tour guide, that stable had dedicated rooms for specially made hunting clothes, riding boots, wine, vinegar, olives, oil, salves, and other supplies, as well as separate rooms for storing horse armor, heraldic horse caparisons, hunting bows, and other weapons.

In the area reserved for warhorses, there was not only fine wheat for feed, but also slots for oil lamps. Every winter, the stable steward would light the lamps to keep the warhorses warm.

Such stables were more like a small military camp. Noble knights could arm themselves there at any time and rest within them as well.

But this place had clearly lost all those functions.

Ian's arrival caught the attention of a stablehand who was pouring water into a trough. He immediately stopped what he was doing and hurried over to Ian.

"Hey, who are yo—this ser," he began, but the moment he recognized Ian's extraordinary attire, he hastily changed his words. "My apologies, ser. These are the private stables of the Countess of Rowan. Outsiders are forbidden from entering."

"Of course I know where this is, yet I came in anyway, didn't I?" Ian deliberately turned sideways, as though examining a brown trained horse beside him. In truth, he was showing the stablehand the side where his sword hung, hoping the man would get a clearer look.

"Oh, yes, ser." The stablehand replied blankly. Only then did he remember that there was a squad of guards outside the stables, yet this knight had still entered. That meant he had already been granted permission?

"I am Ser Lucian Lannister, son of Ser Damion Lannister." Ian fabricated an identity for himself. When dealing with native inhabitants who were not players, he could improvise much more freely.

"May I ask what business brings you here, ser?" Upon hearing Ian's name, the stablehand immediately asked respectfully.

Though he had never heard of any Ser Lucian Lannister, that did not stop him from bowing his head to a knight.

"I would like to board my horse here temporarily," Ian said, not immediately revealing his true purpose. He pointed to the trained horse he was leading. "Naturally, I will pay for it."

"Of course, ser. It would be my honor. I guarantee that your horse will be well cared for." The stablehand promptly agreed. Looking after the horses of passing noble knights was part of their work, and the fees knights paid were usually higher than the cost of maintaining the horses.

"At the same time, I need to borrow a horse from you," Ian said then.

"Certainly, ser. Please, have a look." The stablehand extended a hand and led Ian toward the stalls. He did not suspect this knight of being a fraud; after all, the man had left his own horse here.

"I'm heading to Fountainspring Town to take part in a hunt hosted by William Mutton," Ian said as he examined the horses behind the fences.

Most of the horses here were merely ordinary riding horses. There were only a few genuine large warhorses.

Before long, one white horse caught his eye.

Ian estimated that it stood more than one meter sixty-five at the shoulder. Compared to it, the Riverlands horse he was leading, which stood under one meter forty, could only be described as dainty and adorable.

"I'll take that one. What do you think?"