What caught their attention first, however, was a large camp seemingly full of soldiers. Sporting the colors of white and grey, Adrian knew it was the Earl of Highmere's army, a five-hundred-strong force stationed here to protect the rising port city from enemies.
He already knew this from Sir Cordell, out of all the supporters for the Prince's plans, it was the Earl of Highmere who had contributed the most.
Although the Prince was not the heir to the realm, he was still a royal with immense power, no noble would miss a chance to carry favor from such a person.
Looking at the soldiers moving among their tents, Adrian saw some sparring and others loitering, but all wore their brigandines in fine form, a testament to the Earl's wealth.
Next to the camp were the common folk. Though fewer in number than the army, they were much busier, especially at the large docks currently under construction. A large ditch was being dug nearby, which Adrian guessed was the planned area for the Prince's shipyards.
A bit farther off, he saw laborers carrying stone and timber to marked areas. It took a few moments before Adrian realized they were tracing the overall layout of the city. The Prince had hired experts, which only emphasized the importance he placed on this project.
As they approached, others began to notice them. Adrian's gaze, however, remained fixed on the largest and most extravagant tent. Judging by the colors, it belonged to Highmere's people. He knew the Earl himself wasn't here, but rather his uncle, unless something had changed in the past few days.
There were other tents belonging to the Barons of Whitesand, Hardinge, and Hillside, as well as the Viscount of Ironmere. He couldn't see the Prince's location, however, unless he was staying with the Highmere party or hadn't arrived yet.
He thought it was likely the latter.
"Milord should pay his respects to the highest-ranking lord, since the Prince does not seem to be here yet." the steward at his side suggested.
Adrian nodded, bracing himself before dismounting his horse. "Settle the people." he commanded. The steward nodded immediately and began barking orders to clear an area for their camp.
After a short while, Adrian, his steward, and Sir Cordell walked toward the most luxurious tent. Two guards stood at the entrance.
"I am Lord Harrow of Harrowfield. I am here to pay my respects to the Lords of Highmere."
One guard turned and entered the tent. He returned moments later and gestured for them to enter. Inside, it hardly felt like a tent at all, thick wooden pillars supported the canopy, and the space was filled with extravagant chairs and tables.
In one of the chairs sat a middle-aged man with a greying beard. His frame was still solid and large, and his grey eyes scanned Adrian calmly.
In another chair sat a woman with amber hair. Her clothes were revealing, her bosom covered only by two thin strips of cloth wrapped around her neck. Judging by the glint in her eyes, her smirk and look of her dress, the man's posture, and the strange scent in the air, it seemed they had been interrupted in the middle of something private.
Adrian felt a wave of awkwardness though he tried not to not let anything show in his face.
"Baron Adrian Harrow, I believe? I am Wyatt Winthrope."
"Lord Wyatt, I am pleased to be here. It is an honor to meet you," Adrian said with a nod. The lady did not introduce herself, and Lord Wyatt did not bother to do so for her.
"Likewise." Lord Wyatt said. "Have you settled in?"
"Not yet."
"Then do so. Welcome to all those who pursue His Grace's plans. Once you are settled, my aide will guide you to the maesters in charge of the planning." Lord Wyatt nodded. "I suspect we will have plenty of time to talk, Lord Harrow."
"We will." Adrian took the hint, nodded, and turned to leave, exhaling a breath of relief once he was outside.
He proceeded to give his greetings to the other lords, but compared to Lord Wyatt's prestige and rank, the others were far less intimidating.
Soon, Adrian stood by and watched as his men raised his own tent. It was an older pavilion used by the previous lord, but it had been refurbished to sit respectably alongside the others. Once finished, servants busied themselves inside; soon, it contained sleeping quarters, a small receiving area for guests, a storage space, and an area that could serve as an office. It was quite large for a single person.
Adrian changed into looser clothes and strapped a sword to his waist. Lord Bronsone had invited him to the training grounds for a spar, but he had to set his people to work first. With his steward beside him, he sought out the maester in charge of the city's construction.
The man was on a raised platform, overseeing the massive site from his seat. He was grizzled but wore embroidered, luxurious robes.
By lord Bronsones words, this maestar supposedly had receive dwarven teaching.
"Maester Brock? I am Baron Adrian Harrow, here to join the efforts for His Grace's plans," Adrian said, approaching the desk. He saw the man looking over large parchments covered in drawings and city layouts.
The maester stood and nodded. "Welcome. How many men have you brought?"
'Straight to business' Adrian thought. He could sense the maester cared little for his status. Adrian gave his answer, but his steward soon stepped forward to handle the logistics. The maester quickly forgot Adrian was even there as he delved into deep technical talk with the steward.
Adrian managed to get a few words in edgewise before leaving them to it. The salty air, the sound of the waves, and the roar of activity around him made the site feel incredibly alive. Adrian felt he could get used to this atmosphere; the inner woodworker in him was itching to join the work.
-----
Adrian twisted his upper body to dodge a horizontal slice before swiping his sword hand, catching Lord Bronsone's elbow. The impact sent the older man spinning to the side, nearly stumbling. Rather than pressing the advantage, Adrian took a disciplined step back.
Lord Bronsone took a moment to recover his footing before lunging with a series of stabs, his aggressive footwork forcing Adrian to back-pedal. Adrian caught the blade with his buckler, slapping it aside with a rhythmic clang. Lord Bronsone tried to follow up by bashing with his round shield, but Adrian was faster.
He could have stepped inside the man's guard and swept the Lord off his feet, but he had no desire to embarrass his peer in front of their audience.
Instead, Adrian thrust his practice sword with such force that it pierced right through the wooden round shield.
"Hmph!" With a burst of strength, Adrian used the lodged blade to pry the shield from his opponent's grip and flung it aside.
Lord Bronsone gripped his sword with both hands and began a desperate flurry of slashes. Had Adrian not been through the wringer during the assault on Sawhead Castle, and trained harder since, they might have been on the same level.
But Adrian was not the same man he was before, the experience of true carnage and the grueling training that followed had sharpened him. He maintained a front, appearing to struggle just enough to be polite, before finally disarming Lord Bronsone.
"You are a commendable warrior, Lord Harrow... despite being so young," Lord Bronsone panted. He signaled for a servant, who began wiping his brow and offered him a waterskin. Adrian felt the heat of the sun beating down on the training grounds, the scent of kicked-up dust and sweat heavy in the air.
A servant tried to offer Adrian the same assistance, but he simply took the cloth and wiped his own face.
"You have great skill as well, Lord Bronsone. I pity any enemy that tries to take this place while you stand guard." Adrian said, earning a hearty chuckle from the man.
"Come, let's sit." Bronsone said, gesturing toward a pair of crates. Once they were settled, he leaned in.
"How is life as a Baron treating you so far?"
Adrian paused, carefully measuring his voice. "Great." he replied, doing his best to keep the sarcasm out of his tone.
Lord Bronsone nodded. "You are young and strong. Have you given any thought to a wife? You'll need to secure an heir, after all."
Adrian nearly spat out the water he was drinking.
He swallowed hard and looked at the Lord. "Not yet, Lord Bronsone... as you said, I am still quite young." He gave a dry chuckle.
'First his steward, and now this?' He shook his head inwardly. It seemed every noble in the camp looked at his bachelorhood as a puzzle they were personally assigned to solve.
Bronsone's smile didn't waver. "The late Lord Harrow and my father shared a connection, a friendship, even. Why don't we continue that legacy? Perhaps even deepen it? I happen to have a very beautiful cousin..."
Adrian managed to keep his expression neutral, treating the offer as a light-hearted jest.
"You speak of interesting things, my Lord... tell me, do you have a wife yourself?" he asked, deftly steering the conversation away.
Lord Bronsone laughed. "Do consider it. And yes, I am married."
They continued to chatter, and Adrian discovered that the Lord had a down-to-earth nature that made him far more pleasant than the other aloof nobles. By the time they parted, they had struck a genuine friendship.
Time passed.
Adrian traveled back and forth between his own territory and Sandhail Bay. He grew better acquainted with the other lords and even earned a nod of respect from Lord Wyatt after a particularly impressive sparring session.
The prince and his people had also arrived after a month making the situation more lively.
More than two months later, Adrian returned to his lands after a five-day absence. He was met with news that hit him like a mace to the head.
Lady Ela Harrow was pregnant.