~ Trent
It was late in the afternoon, and Trent hadn't finished his chores. When asked on previous days as to why this was, he would swear up and down it was because people kept foisting other jobs upon him. Today, that would even be the truth.
Even though he was technically a kitchen servant, as a choreboy Trent was given any jobs people didn’t want to bother with. Instead of the weeding he was supposed to be doing, all morning Trent had been sent up and down and sideways across Honeyholt, delivering messages, unloading bolts of cloth and food from a supply wagon that had trundled its way up the hill, and even mending a hole in the chicken coop where a fox had somehow gotten in.
Of course, he hadn't missed any opportunity to take a break with how hectic his schedule was. Lunch had been an uplifting affair, and Trent had attended one of Maester Roberts' lessons on how to save a person's life, like if they were choking or got a cut across the leg. There was an artery there, Trent had learned, which basically meant it bled like a stuck pig unless you closed the cut up tight.
Now, he was frantically trying to finish weeding the garden before sundown, or he would be forced to stay working past suppertime, and he would only get cold soup and hard bread.
Ah well, at least lunch had been delicious. Trays of meat-filled hand pies bursting with savory juices, the crust flaky and buttery instead of tough and bland like regular pies, and pitchers of various meads which tasted like berries and apples, or of vinegar, or of smoke and fire. Manrel said that they were testing different recipes for the upcoming feast, and to not expect such delicacies for every meal. But Trent was just happy to have tasted such luxury for free. The only food that he had that usually came close was when he went to the Violet Inn down in Honeytown after mass on Sept days. The food there was half the reason he trekked down the hill, the other half was to catch a glimpse of Jenny, the innkeeper's daughter. She just got prettier and prettier with every moon, while Trent felt like a grown man already with how much he was made to work.
He remembered being introduced to her, but that was before he was given over to the Beesburys. It was nice to imagine what his life would have been like, though, if that ship hadn't sunk.
The taste was still swirling around in his head, on the tip of his tongue, as Trent scrounged around in the dirt pulling up weeds. As he was about half done, Trent had a bad feeling. The sort of feeling like someone was watching him, like someone was thinking about him. The kind of feeling he got whenever a new task was about to be handed down to him from on high.
Trent tried to get lower to the ground, to hide among the onion and garlic, but his hunter was too persistent. An older servant stood over Trent with an amused look. "Do you need some help, Trent ?" A hand reached down with his words.
"No, no, I just... was trying to find a stubborn weed." Trent said as he shook his head and stood up, dusting off his pants and shirt. "What did you need?"
"Well, Lord Beesbury has a job for you." The man said, with a tone that Trent would have thought to be apologetic if it weren't for his cheeky smile. "You see, Barret wants to go for a walk down the hill to find his friends, and someone needs to accompany him."
"Uhhh..." Trent said to buy time as he thought. Barret was a nice kid, but he could get into trouble sometimes. He usually got away with it, like when Lord Beesbury had discovered he was sneaking into the kitchen to steal food for his friends and had only made him stay for a night in Honeyholt's shrine, but Trent didn't want to test his luck at not being blamed for whatever Barret got up to.
"But I'm so busy here. Besides, wouldn't Lord Bessbury prefer someone older to better watch over Barret? He's only just recovered from the fight."
"Well you see, I am going to be coming along. But Lord Beesbury is worried about his son's health. So he made it clear that whoever goes with him has to have attended one of Maester Robert's lessons, and I… have been too busy to attend one."
"Ah." Trent mentally added to the end of as he noticed the man’s messy hairbut he couldn’t fault anyone from trying to get a bit of time for themselves. "Okay, when are we heading out?" Trent asked.
Before he could get an answer, a noise cut through the courtyard. It was Barret, who was whistling with his lips as he walked out of Honeyholt proper.
"Now," the older servant said, "and let’s try to be back by nightfall."
"You got it..." Tybalt said in a tone that inspired neither confidence nor trust as he started running over to Barret, the other man close behind.
~
Trent had a suspicion that the walk down the hill was less simple than Lytton might have expected when he gave his approval. Barret kept jumping around, doing stunts like tumbling into the grassy fields surrounding the small dirt path and running over to beekeepers to check out the new box hives.
Trent supposed taking Barret on a walk wasn’t the worst thing that he could have been told to do. The aftermath of some of Barret’s other escapades had certainly been worse, like when Trent had to clean the whole kitchen after Barret had tried to show off a bunch of different ways to cook eggs. And while Manrel might have been impressed, Trent had been more annoyed than anything.
Before long, the three of them reached a small grove of trees, and Barret raised a hand. “I’m going to see my retinue in our secret hideout, you both have to stay here.”
“Lord Beesbury said we should follow you, Barret.” The older servant said.
Barret frowned. “But it's supposed to be a secret!” He seemed to get flustered briefly, before taking a deep breath and making a counteroffer. “What if only Trent comes along? It’s not that far from here.”
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The older man looked at the soft grass and shade cast by the tall trees. “That should be fine. I’ll be waiting out here for you both.”
The decision made for him, Trent sighed and followed Barret deeper into the small grove, walking a bit off the main path. Before they even left eyesight the older servant had already laid down among the grass and flowers for a nap.
Trent was so distracted by annoyance that he didn’t even notice the large cave come into view. It almost seemed like a trick with how quickly it appeared, but a closer look revealed the hillside curved to hide the entrance from observers on the main path.
Barret ran ahead into the cave, calling out to his friends as went. Trent didn’t bother trying to keep up. There was no point in running, because where else was Barret going to go?
When Trent did reach the cave, he took a second to peer into the space. It was partially illuminated by sunlight and the smoldering ashes of a small fire, but what Trent saw was interesting. Some things made sense. For example, there seemed to be a lot of toys and games scattered about; hoops and sticks, ropes, tops, dolls, dice, and even a board with pieces that looked similar to the one Lord Beesbury kept in his solar, which Trent had been told to be extra careful with when cleaning the room. It seems they even made a throwing game, seeing as there was a carved wooden target board with heavy darts next to it, and even one jammed into the wood.
It was also very messy, with things scattered about the floor and piled up in corners or against logs that had to have been rolled in and used as seats. Small tools and incomplete projects were nestled among piles of various kinds of leaves and bundles of string. As he stepped in, Trent almost tripped over a pile of small bones, probably small game like rabbits or gophers.
There were also things that stood out as strange. Things Trent didn’t recognize, like a box in the corner that had a layer of sand in it, or a strange basket with holes in the bottom. But what really caught Trent’s eye was the walls. They were covered in drawings in chalk and various paints, with continuous rings of a story circling the space, starting and ending at the entrance. In one ring a small figure, probably a child, went on a journey and encountered a dragon. Another ring had a small girl being whisked away by what looked to be a heavy wind and showed her meeting weird people and even a lion. A third had a boy in a wolf costume getting into mischief and dancing with great big beasts. They were obviously old and lines had been reapplied multiple times.
Trent had to admit, the cave was pretty cool. He would have liked to have such a space when he was younger. The only problem was, it wasn’t just a cave. Because at the far end was the entrance to a tunnel, down which Trent caught the sight of Barret running with a lit candle in hand, following a line of chalk arrows.
Trent weighed his options. If Barret, and presumably the friends he came here to find, had a way to get out of the tunnel, they’d probably follow that, which would lead them back to the cave. So, Trent decided to follow the lead of the older servant and stepped just outside the cave, laid down in the grass, and shut his eyes.
~ Alice
“What is this place?” Alice said as she walked further into the cavern. The ground squished under her feet, a layer of mulch made up of fallen petals and fruit. Worms and other insects wriggled underfoot, and bees buzzed around her, but Alice paid them no mind. Her attention was purely on the wonder of the space she found herself in.
By cave standards it was a pretty large place, but the tree took up so much space it felt cramped. The density of bees in the air added to the feeling, with their wingbeats almost drowning out the sound of running water.
There was also life beyond just the bees and worms. Weird creatures swam and walked about, pale fish and pink lizards and strange spiders that hopped along the ground.
The rest of the gang made their way into the cavern proper and joined Alice in amazement.
Flowers covered the ground, walls and ceiling, their colorful petals shining in the flickering candlelight, reminding Alice of stars. The erratic flight of the swarm cast shadows against the walls, sometimes massive and sometimes tiny.
The most unique part of it was the smell. A riot of scents, floral and woody and dank and sickly sweet. It was like every smell Alice had ever experienced, and a few she hadn't, decided to team up and punch her in the nose.
It was a good few minutes before anyone said anything. “Sooo… why is there a tree down here?” Robin asked as he moved closer to inspect it. The white tree straddled each bank of the small stream, its roots anchoring itself on both ends like a bridge. A few roots seemed to bore into the earth itself, with cracks forming beneath them, but most just went out like questing tendrils, looking for something and not finding it. “There's barely any soil, and there's definitely no sun down here.”
“It’s a weirwood tree.” William said as he walked forward and placed a hand on the white, gnarled bark. “My father told me about them. The First Men think the old gods live in them. He showed me a couple weirwood stumps that are still in the forest.”
“The old gods?” Alice said with a gasp, “aren’t they, like, evil or something?”
“That’s what the Septon says.” William said with a shrug. “But my father says when you’re in the forest, the old gods are closer than the seven, so he taught me how to not upset them.” William reached into one of his pouches and pulled out a small bit of jerky. He placed it among the exposed roots of the weirwood and performed a short bow. “Excuse us, we mean no harm.”
As William spoke, Alice could swear she saw one of the carved eye's pupils move slightly to see him. She froze, scared that if she made even the slightest move the eye would look to her instead. Alice didn't know much about the gods, but she knew you didn't want bad ones looking at you.
Beyond her fear, focusing on the tree's eyes made Alice realize something. Every animal she had seen, from the fish to the lizards to the worms, had no eyes. They were the only things in this entire room that could see, except the bees and perhaps, and Alice prayed to the Seven that she was wrong, the tree itself.
But William just clapped his hands together and nodded, then opened his eyes and turned towards the group. “Okay.”
Alice's fear was replaced by confusion. “Okay?” Alice said. “Okay we're not going to die?”
“Probably.” William said, before turning back to the tree.
Alice stood in stunned silence for a second before deciding that a probably from William was good enough for her. Evidently it was also good enough for Henry, as he restarted exploring the space. Robin was similarly confused by William's statement, but Alice knew he would just follow the group like always.
She went to William's side. He seemed to know the most about whatever this was. As she got closer, she noticed how its branches were absolutely covered in hives. She could see the branches bending with the weight, and suddenly Alice had a desire to not be beneath the creaky old tree.
Before she could warn William, the boy pulled himself up to peer into a hollow in the trunk. “Hmmm…” was his only remark before he landed back on the ground.
“What was in there?” Alice asked, curiosity overcoming her fear of 50 pounds of hive and tree falling on her.
“Another hive.” William said, a small smile on his face. “It smelt nice. Like mom.”
“What does that mean?” Alice asked, but before she could get a response she heard something. A whistled tune echoed down the tunnel walls, one they all had learned together. It was hard to learn how to shape her lips properly, and the only person who could whistle it that well was..
“Barret!” Alice called out, and the gang turned to face their absent friend. He stepped out into the cavern and seemed to be hit with the same amazement as all the rest of them.
Barret only got one word out before he was tackled into a five person hug. “Huh, cool.”
