Rain lashed down like sparks from the Smith's forge above, pelting the dull greens and browns of the Neck. The King's Road had transformed into a slog of well churned mud. Egg and Maester were fighting for first place in their tournament of two to look the most miserable. Egg's floppy straw brimmed hat was drooping, flattened against his head, resembling more of a towel than a hat, in truth. Maester struggled with the mud every step, hoofs sinking and jerking out like he was walking over hot coals, ears pressed flat back against his head in displeasure. Thunder wasn't faring much better.
Egg took the front brim of his hat and rolled it back so he could see "Mayhaps we could find an inn to sleep in tonight, Ser." He said in a tone as dreary as the grey sky that was wholly intent on drowning them. Egg had changed much since they had been embroiled in the Second Blackfyre rebellion. It was just as Lord Brynden had said, a Dragon had been born. He still had his insolent moments, and no mistake, but more often than not it seemed he was more commanding than pleading. Egg had certainly grown no less princely, but as once he would have complained most bitterly, now he simply remarked on the problem at hand and offered his solution. The lad seems to be growing smarter and nobler by the day.
Ser Duncan the Tall blew the wet hair out of his face "Feeling too royal for a little drizzle today Lad?"
"A drizzle Ser?" Egg asked with that familiar insolence "No, Ser, I just don't fancy waking up amongst a nest of Lizard Lions that this downpour had washed me into while I slept."
Dunk umphed aloud. Thunder plodded along with his head down, his soaked mane plastered to his neck, like the tall weeds along the road that had been beaten to the ground by the downpour.
"Of course, the next Inn you see I'll gladly stop at." Ser Duncan glanced about with equal insolence. Winterfell, Winterfell. If we ever make it there it'll take seven blessings indeed. Dunk looked around, with less insolence and more serious consideration. There had been no signs of people for days, except for the road, that was. Mud, water, trees. Not even a smattering of hovels to be seen, and we aren't even in the North yet. "There's no sign of people at all lad, much less an inn."
Up ahead off to the right of the road there was a huge Elm stump that looked to have been cut off halfway up the tree. That must've taken a fair share of work, and no mistake. The branches had all been sheared off, making it one smooth column all the way up, probably half as tall as the Tower of the Hand. Dunk remembered looking up at Aegon's Hill as a boy, and thinking that all he wanted was to be one of the people important enough to go through those gates into the Red Keep. I never thought I actually might.
As they drew closer to the wooden column Dunk noticed the strange, well hidden slits in the structure. Arrow slits, by the Gods it's not a stump at all, it is a tower. The thought struck the big knight with the plethora of possibilities, mostly dark, that came with it. He reigned up thunder, desperate to stop before the drew any closer. Thunder came to a stop with a shake of his head, pulling the wet reigns out of Dunks hand. Maester, head down against the pelting rain, trudged head on into Thunders rump unknowingly. The war horse let out an indignant scream and threw out a sharp kick with both back feet. Maester released a terrified bray and reared up, sending Egg into the mucky track with a splash. A half moment later, Thunder reared as well, throwing Dunk with a colossal plop into the mud.
"Seven hells Maester!" Egg cursed, rolling onto his side with a squish and vainly attempting to wipe the filth off of his face.
"Thunder!" Dunk scrambled up ungracefully to catch the great horse, but it was to late. Thunder had dashed off down the road and rounded a bend out of sight.
"None of this would have happened if we'd taken that ship from Salt Pans Ser." Egg complained bitterly, shaking the mud off of his arms.
"How about I ship a clout into your ear?" Dunk threw back, raising his fist so Egg could see it, but not turning to face him. He was trudging his way down the track after the spooked horse. Maybe the Prince was right after all.
After the second Blackfyre rebellion had died with a mouse fart, Bloodraven had given them free reign with his master of gold. They had left off with 100 golden dragons, and 200 silver stags. Egg had wanted to get a few hundred more of each so they could travel in comfort, but Dunk had swindled him down. Even with as much money as they had Dunk felt more than a little uncomfortable traveling the Kingsroad. They had used little and less since they had made off from the embarrassment at White Walls. Egg had begged for them to take a ship to White Harbor, but Dunk had refused him most brusquely. The big knight had his full of ships on the trip to Oldtown from Dorne. Just the thougt of Lamprey pie still sent an unpleasant taste rearing up his throat. He'd come to regret it.
When they'd reached the Inn at the Crossroads, they'd found Egg's Princely father, Maekar Targaryen, waiting on them there. When they'd entered Maekar was sitting in the Inn, amongst a score of his men at arms and household Knights all with the blood red sigil of the three headed dragon embroidered on their surcoats. He'd given his captain a nod, and the grizzled Knight had ordered everyone out. The inn emptied quickly, peasants staring at the ground on their way out as if they were following a breadcrumb trail to a gold hoard.
"Father" Egg had said quietly "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" the prince said coldly "the question of import is what you were doing at that writhing nest of serpents? Did you not sate your hunger for blundering into bloody disasters at Ashford Ser!?" The Prince spit the last word with contempt, and the cold tone was replaced by fiery rage the Dragon Lords were so well known for. It had lasted near an hour. The Prince had raged and cursed, snarled and spit, screaming curses at Dunk that would make a Ghiscari Slaver blush. Dunks ears had grown as red as the Targaryen Dragon on the Prince's Doublet. In the End, he had demanded his son leave Dunk's service and return to SummerHall.
"This great bloody fucking fool of an ignorant lout is not fit to protect a cow pie, much less a Prince of the Blood!" Maekar had yelled throwing his hand toward Dunk. "Aegon, you will unpack all of your things from the back of that bloody Ass you've been riding. I've brought an extra stallion for you, so Ser Duncancan keep his brother he rides. Now." He finished with a finality that would make death ashamed. But Egg stood tall, defiant.
"No" He'd said quietly.
Prince Maekar had already been making his way towards the door; now he stopped abruptly, his back to them. His shoulders flexed, raising up towards his ears, his silvery hair falling across his black doublet as he clenched his fists. "No?" he repeated as cold and quiet as the steps The Others.
"No" Egg said again, raising his voice into confident command. "You wrong Ser Duncan, father. How was he to know it was a tourney of traitors? We simply thought we were going to a wedding, a good place to win some ransom and renown. I didn't even work out the plot myself until the second day of the jousts. Ser Duncan protected me well, he slayed Black Tom in single combat and we nearly thwarted the plot ourselves. If it wasn't for-"
"You forget yourself boy!" Maekar broke in "You are coming with me now! I'll drag you all the way to SummerHall by your ear if need be!"
Dunk raised his eyes to meet the old Prince's deep purple ones "Mayhaps it is you who forget, Your Grace" he said quietly. "The talk we had down by the pool at Ashford. Lord Rivers said himself that a Dragon was born at White Walls, and I think he had the right of it. Daeron would've drank his way through the tourney, and never noticed ought was amiss. Aerion would have been too busy killing men's horses in the lists, and torturing entertainers for imagined slights. It could've gone worse, it's true, but it didn't. We made out fine, and helped Lord Rivers win the day, Your Grace."
Prince Maekar stood quietly for a moment, regarding Dunk Coolly. "I see my son's insolence has rubbed off on you. Mayhaps I should have it beat out of you."
"You will not father!" Egg said defiantly. Maekar looked for a moment as it he would reach out and throttle his son's long princely neck, but he only laughed. Not a kind, friendly laugh, but a cold, cynical, rattle.
"You two truly deserve each other's company." He told them, and then his white teeth vanished as abruptly as they'd appeared. "Make it a point to take my son into no more rebellions Ser Duncan. Next time I'll have to clap you in chains for treason and ship you off to the Wall."
"That's where we are headed in the first place" Egg said mischievously. "We agree on that much father. I told Ser we should've take a ship."
The old Prince simply gave a snort, and turned to leave.
'When you dance with dragons, you're bound to get burned.' Someone had told Dunk once. It's not wise to insult a Prince's royal sons to his face. Though I think he knows I had the right of it. Best not to prod that Dragon again though.' Dunk thought back on the boy that had entered Ashford Tourney three years ago. I was afraid even to enter Ashford Castle to sign into the lists. My courage has grown since then, that, or my stupidity.
The colossal stump jutted up from the ground like a great wooden finger pointing at the bleak sky. "What do you make of that?" Dunk asked craning his neck back to look up at the towering column of wood. The big knight was vainly trying to lighten the mood"You ever see a tree that size? Think of how tall it was before it was cut. What about your ship now?"
"They have those on ships Ser" Egg responded, rolling his eyes.
"What you on about? No, they don't."
"Yes they do. They're called Masts, Ser." Egg informed him, the days of rain had put him into a mood as drear as the sky.
Thick as a castle wall, dunk. "Well" he muttered "Not any near so wide around as this."
He had been so engrossed in the structure that he jumped and felt his skin goose prickle when a voice hoarsely pronounced:
"Friends on the King's Road! Be my guests, come and get out of this rain!" A small man stepped out from the front of the tower that was facing the road. The duo jumped in unison, they'd walked right passed the man and not seen a thing. His clothing matched the surrounding countryside, dull greens and browns. His beard was thick, coarse, and long. The mossy green eyes of the man seemed to pierce Dunk right through.
"Where'd you come from?" Dunk asked, looking about confused.
"I've been here the entire time!" The small man replied with a faint smile. "Don't worry about your horse, I'll have my men fetch him." He finished, and gave a subtle signal with his hand. Dunk and Egg looked about in wonder and more than a little fear when men of the same dress stepped out from the trees all around them, shouldering bows and sheathing swords. Dunk only now noticed that his hand was on his sword, but he kept it there.
"Crannogmen, Ser" Egg whispered, stepping up close to Dunk. "I've heard they can stand so still that they become invisible to anyone that doesn't know what to look for."
"That's us" Dunk returned, at the same volume level.
"Yes!" The original speaker said "Not all rumors are myth. Not to worry though, you'll find no hostility here, only a warm hearth and dry clothes, although we may be hard pressed to find garb for a man your size." He laughed "Nonetheless, it's not every day I get to house a Prince of the Blood at my humble wayside tower. Come, eat my bread and salt, and be welcome." The small man turned and pulled on a spot that seemed to have no handle, opening a door that had no visible hinges. He gestured for them to enter. Egg and Dunk looked at each other.
"Who are you, My Lord?" Egg asked
"Ahh, I've forgotten my courtesy!" the man said with a smile "Lord Edric Reed of Greywater Watch, at your service!"