GERRARD
It was getting dark. Gerrard was soaked right through from his cloak all the way down to his now freezing cold chain mail. He presumed the others were sharing this problem so didn't say anything. Not that anyone was talking. Gerrard cursed himself. He should have got his little party of men to stop at the village pub they passed a few hours ago. It had looked nice, a bit derelict but they could have been warm, dry and sleeping in a cosy room. The pub even had a stable for their horses.
However he had listened to his young squire; Walton. Walton had grown up in the Riverlands so had somehow convinced Him he knew a Short cut. Gerrard had a sneaky feeling the boy just wanted Gerrard to let him take the lead. If they weren't soaking wet, lost and if Gerrard actually liked the guy then Gerrard would have pitied the boy who's last name was Rivers.
"Oh well, atleast these woods are taking the worst out of the rain." Gerrard thought to himself.
Walton took this moment to speak. He shouted as if they were in a storm. "Ser, I think that now would be the perfect time to stop and get some rest." He said innocently. "We are getting nowhere and will probably just walk around in circles in the dark."
"A Good plan as always." Gerrard was surprised at how calm he said this. Walton could have left it at that. He could of shut his mouth, but if he did, then he wouldn't have been Walton.
"Ser, I know that I am partially to blame for getting us lost but you should really have let me lead, I'm only six and ten. You should have atleast have been keeping an eye out that we were going in the right direction".
Several voices began to defend Gerrard all at once. He was their Lord's son after all. Noone said he was just 3 years older than Walton though. Gerrard sighed inwardly. He wasn't in the right mood for this.
In hindsight, Gerrard thought he should have told them to not shout so loud.
It happened quickly. One second they were arguing on horseback. The next their horsed lay dead on the ground with arrows in their heads and their owners sprawled across the ground. A fraction of a second later, about a dozen men burst from the shadows. Even in the dark, Gerrard recognised the Crimson and Gold armour. " I didn't realize we had riden into the Westerlands?" Gerrard questioned.
"you haven't" grunted the one who was obviously in charge. "Your from House Wimd? Sworn to House Stark?"
"We are. scared?" replied Walton. Gerrard tried to mentally strangled the bastard.
In answer, the Lannisters formed a circle around them and unsheathed their swords. "This is for biting our King, wolves".
Gerrard looked at his friends. Jon was half trapped under his horse, and Walton had lost his sword. He looked at Darren and Calsum. They pulled their hoods up. This was going to be interesting.
THE FALCON IN RED
Ronnel lay down on the grass. The lady had given him an easy job. His men had outnumbered the Stark Bannermen 3 to 1. He had even ambushed them for peat sake! He shuddered. He doubted 50 men could have beaten these soldiers. It was like fighting shadows. Looking around at the battlefield, he saw most of his men, the rest were moaning in pools of their own blood. "They will die shortly" He thought darkly.
"WHY DID YOU ATTACK US?" Walton almost screamed.
Ronnel blinked. One of the Wimds had walked upto him. He noticed that the other Wimd fighter were crowded round one of their own wounded men. He smiled to himself. Small Victories.
"ANSWER!" Walton screamed.
Ronnel was thrice this little brat's age. He would slit this kids throat if he hadn't lost so much blood.
"WHY DID YOU ATTACK US?" Walton almost screamed this time.
"BECAUSE YOU MADE OUR PRINCE LOOK STUPID" He mimicked the boy's manner.
Walton kicked him. Ronnel made to get up and slap him, but collapsed mid way through the air. Walton laughed. Things looked bad for Ronnel until, the older boy came up to them. This boy looked more mature. He wore a cloak of black over his chainmail and leather. Which was useful for camouflage in the night, he had just learnt.
"Jory is dying" He said neutrally.
"My prisoner is seriously wounded, he could die soon. Sometimes you have to use your brain instead of your heart." Walton sneered.
"Is that the way you talk to your Master?" Gerrard almost whispered.
"No, its the way I talk to an emotional little kid, who's only my master because of his father." Walton retorted.
"I see." Was all that Gerrard said.
"You are emotional right now, so I will leave you in peace" and with that Walton walked off to see Jory.
Ronnel looked at his new interrogator. He looked nervous. As if reading his thoughts, his face went blank. Ronnel broke the silence "Your Lord's wolf almost killed the prince."
The son of a Lord nodded. He looked thoughtful. Then just said "Take off your helmet".
Ronnel made an exaggerated attempt to take off his helmet with his weakened arms.
The son of a Lord bent down and gently peeled it off his head. It felt good to have air on his face. Ronnel tried to hide the pain in his voice. "Don't I look handsome?"
Gerrard said nothing. "You are not a Lannister, You look more like you're from the Vale."
Ronnel's heart turned to ice. "I'm not" The panic obvious in his voice.
Gerrard walked away. Back to his friend.
GERRARD
He was so confused. Why? Why did bannermen from the Vale dress up as Lannisters and attack Stark Bannermen. He didn't know what it meant but he knew that when he got to Kings Landing to enter the Lists for the Hand's Tourney, He would need to speak to the Hand about what has just happened.