1st Month 336 AC

Jon Wheat

As the sworn sword of Lord Enderly, Jon spent nearly the entirety of his daily life around the lord. After adorning his armor and eating a quick breakfast of eggs and bread, Jon went immediately to Lord Enderly's quarters. His stride had become frail as his age had started to set in, but still Jon continued through the halls of Deepwood Motte with pride and the will to serve. Taking a right and a sharp left, the Enderly chambers came into sight, and Jon approached the thick door to Derek's room carefully.

He knocked three times, quick and to the point, as he usually did.

There was no response.

Perhaps Lord Enderly had spent the night in his books? It happened often, more so now than years prior, so there would be no surprise there. Usually he'd have let the lord sleep but Lord Robbett Woods and his family would be arriving in but a few hours. Derek would have to finish arranging last minute details for their stay.

He knocked again, three times. Short still but louder.

Again there was nothing but the eerie silence of the early morning and the sound of a guard's footsteps down the hallway.

Jon sighed, he would not wish to have to wake the lord, though Derek would not complain about it. He and his eldest son alike had the tendency to sleep more than was usual.

Jon knocked again, three times and loud. He practically banged on the door. "My lord." His voice was thick with the tone of a gentleman, caring like a father, and stern like a Sergeant in the training yard. "My lord the sun is rising, you warned me that you must be up early for the arrival of Lord Woods."

Again there was no sound. Only for a moment however, as Jon listened closely and swore that he heard the movement of sheets. Finally awake then. He thought. With that done Jon made his way back the way that he'd come, to meet with his son and discuss the security at the gates for the next week.

Through the winding hallways Jon left once more, a hand clamped tight to his sword belt and another swinging at his side like a marching knight. That is, until something crashed into him as he turned a corner.

Jon recovered in less than a second but the person he'd run in to fell backwards and to the ground with an audible Ooph! It was a young boy, with shaggy brown hair and glowing brown eyes, the young Corban Enderly. Jon immediately fell to one knee and bowed his head.

"My apologies my lord, I mean't not to bump in to you. Are you hurt?" His dutiful mannerisms typically showed brighter around the Enderly children than around Derek, but Corban enjoyed making fun of his way of speech. As the boy once said, 'It's not how a soldier should talk.'

Jon smiled when the boy giggled, and he offered the child a hand and pulled Corban to his feet.

Corban bowed dramatically, swishing his head inches from Jon's face as he did so. "Ser Jon, I am so very thankful you are to help me up."

"You were here to help me up." Jon corrected. "No need for fancy speak around my, young Corban. I was born a soldier, not a noble. Where were you off to so early, and so fast too! Are the 'direwolves' chasing you again? Shall I draw my blade to protect you?"

Corban giggled lightly and flashed his tiny teeth at the swornsword. "No silly, momma wasn't in her room so I'm going to fetch father. Do you want to come with? Please Jon?" The boy tugged at Jon's gloved hand with tiny little nubby fingers. Jon could do nothing but give the boy some minutes of his time.

Corban's smile grew gargantuan and Jon watched the boy leap up and down a few times before bouncing down the hallway.

"I must warn you young Corban, your father is getting ready for the day I believe." Jon warned him, keeping up with the boy but staying back a few paces. Corban ignored him and bounced to his father's door, not bothering to knock before he entered. Jon shook his head and stopped outside the door without looking inside. He waited to hear lord Derek say something to his son but no voice came from the room other than Corban's.

"Father, it's mornin'. Wake up!"

"Momma! You're here too?"

There was an awkward silence which lulled over the hallway. The marching of the guard stopped. Jon felt like he was being deafened, someone should have said something, it wasn't right.

"Father, wakey, wakey! 'as the rest of you body gone numb too? Momma, get up!"

Jon stepped into the open doorway and glared inside, his eyes opened wide in confusion and concern. His mouth was hidden below his mustache but he could feel his facial muscles tense into a deep frown.

Corban was sitting on Lord Enderly's legs, poking hard at his father's face and tugging at his beard.

"Father why-"

"Young Corban, come here."

"-are you so cold? It's summer!"

Jon froze. His hand went across his chest and gripped hard at the blade of his sword. Surely it wasn't true, the Lord and Lady were sick, certainly that was it. The maester would have to be called.

"Young Corban, please, they must be ill. Come here." His tone became hard now, his eyes glanced about the room. Something was wrong, if they were sick why did they not cough? He was lying to himself, surely they were- no. He could not think of that.

"Corban." His voice was that of a father telling his son to come down from a tree that he knew could not hold his child's weight.

Corban looked back with a cocked head and a confused look before crawling off the bed and patting his tiny feet over to Jon.

Lord and Lady Enderly were pale. Very pale.

"By the gods." Jon muttered, barely audible above the silent sound of his world caving in on him. He stared a long time before feeling sick. Luckily Corban tugged at his sleeve and stole his gaze.

"I'll go get the maester. He'll make them better." The lad moved to dash past Jon but his reflexes kicked in and registered the danger of the situation. Jon grasped the child by the back of his jerkin.

"No, no, no, young Corban. We'll go get Lady Arrena, alright?" Jon felt as though he was reassuring himself more than the struggling child. In truth, he was. Corban had no idea what was happening and to some degree neither did Jon.

Jon did not bother to drag Corban along, he held the boy in one arm with strength he had forgotten he could muster and in his free hand he held his sword, bare steel ready to defend what was left of House Enderly.

"Guards! Guards!" Jon shouted, barked, and spat down the hallway as he sprinted. He heard the clanking of steel as the plate-wearing members of the Lord's Guard came down the hallway, their own arms bared in their hands.

"Lord Derek, he is-" He was what? Dead? Jon tried to warn them but he could not say the word. It came up like bile in his mouth and he forced it back down, feeling bloated at the thought of his lord being dead.

The three men nodded to their Lieutenant before sprinting in the direction he came. Jon continued down the hallway, screaming at guards to spread the word to close the gates and stop any peasants from leaving the Motte. As he approached the front hall he heard cavalry mounting outside, and the gates being winched open and shut, but they were but specks of sand in the ocean of thoughts which crashed against Jon's mind. What had happened? Who did it? Who was in charge of the Motte now?

He huffed as he came barreling down the hallway, past a group of cowering servants and through a section of Guardsmen until he came to Lady Arrena and Cadder's room. It was his duty to ensure the Enderly children were safe. Jon kicked the bottom of the door a handful of times, too roughly, he realized, and he made another realization that he could hardly breath.

Corban struggled against the man's arms but could not find freedom through Jon's fear.

"Lady-" He puffed hard, "Arrena." Jon began to breath and catch his breath. "It's Lieutenant Wheat, please open up!"