6th Month, 211 AC

"I doubt not your daughter's beauty, Ser. What I do doubt is whether or not your coffers will prevent Coldlight from starving this winter."

Andrew was leaned as far back into his chair as possible. The sky had turned it's soft blue into a crisp orange and now what light that filled the room was coming from the fire in the hearth or the numerous iron candlesticks that dotted the walls of Coldlight's great hall. Rubbing at his weary eyes with fists that had written too many notes in too little time, Andrew was ready to announce that he wouldn't take a wife after all. That his House would rather die than deal with the petty politics of a handful of old knights and war veterans. That wasn't precisely an option however. This feast had gone on for too long already. There had not been enough food to spare for the squires or the sons of the Sers before him so he had insisted that they bring only the bare minimum as they met to discuss the coming winter. Now, as Andrew's gaze lifted and glanced between empty bowls of bread, a plate of chicken that had been devoured in minutes, and the three bottles of wine that he'd rationed them for the evening, the de facto Master of Coldlight needed to come to a decision.

"Borden can offer you it's best my lord. Loretta is a good girl, staunchley loyal and religious too. Certainly a man such as yourse-"

"Ha!" The Knight of Mireworth spat up phlegm as he chortled. "Have you ever spoken with Master Andrew before? You don't want some stranger from Borden muh'lord. What you want is a my niece. Good, motherly hips, she has. You won't regret it."

"Oh like he'd wish to wed your kin. Haven't you forgotten your own sister is Andrew's mother? Keep your dirty hands out of this."

"My dirty hands? Forgive me Ser Bridge-fucker but my hands are more clean than yours. Don't you think that I've forgotten about-"

"You wouldn't dare, Ser!"

"Oh I very much think I would dare, Ser!'

Though Andrew could taste the tension on his tongue, he found it hard to care. This whole matter was trivial anyway. He would receive no additional grain from Mireworth. There would be nothing but some coin from Calbridge. At the very least the Knight of Borden might muster him some men to keep the starving from bashing down his gate when their families were starving come winter.

"Neither of you will draw your sword over that matter. My father settled your dispute and that was meant to be final. If you wish to duel for your own honor, or because you'd like to bash one another over the head, then do so in the comfort of your own homes." Andrew finally yelled at the two. His hand clenching hard around the empty wooden cup that he clung to despite having no wine to drown his frustration in. "Now leave me be."

There was a huff of shattered pride that swept over the room suddenly, followed by the pounding of boots and the shaking of fists. When the door to the hall was closed the ensuing yelling could be heard from inside still. Rubbing his temple, Andrew inquired with the last remaining guest. "Tell me more about Loretta."

The wedding was quick. Both in planning and in execution. At first there had been complications with how large the feast would be and whether or not there would be a bedding ceremony but both of those matters were settled fairly quickly. Andrew would get his wedding of no more than twenty witnesses and the Knight of Borden would get to ensure that his daughter was bedded at the end of the night. There was no joust or melee, no hours of prayer to prepare the bride or groom. The ceremony itself was over within minutes and the feast was only a little longer than that. By the end of the night Coldlight would hopefully see the start of the fourth generation of house Faine.