"He wants more men?" The lord of Riverrun was seated in his high chair. "Yes my lord, our king commands it." A sense of disbelief crept across the young lordlings face as he hung his head. "Argus, bring me my wine, I need something to rinse this bile from my mouth."
Argus Flax was but a boy of fourteen, with a large head, and a slender body. Born on the streets of Riverrun, he had acquired a taste for blood at a young age. When he was ten and one, he played dice behind an inn with murderers and thieves. One night, as he rolled the die that won him a fisher-folks skiff, a group of cut-purses fell upon him. Blooded and beaten, Argus lay in his defeat and waited for death. Yet, as the darkness gathered around him, a young man came upon the broken boy.
Ser Greylin Tully, brother to Lord Edmyn, saved the life of a cowed scoundrel. For several days the good men of house Tully sent maesters to tend the boy's wounds. After an abundance of visits and potions, the little lad made a full recovery. Well aware of the debt he owed to the brothers of Tully, he swore his life to their service.
"I shall send the king eighty men", the comely young lord said after a long drink of wine. "My men should be holding the walls of Riverrun. Not of building some castle." The seasoned courier that brought the message shifted in his seat then spread his hands, "that may be so, my lord. But once complete, Harrenhal will be the grandest castle in the land." Lord Edmyn took another swallow of wine. "And what should I care of the grandest castle in the land, I wonder", he raised his tone, "does the king mean to bestow its walls upon me?" When the messenger made no response, the lord of Riverrun ordered him out; telling him his eighty would be ready at first light.
Argus stood to the left of the lord's high seat as he conducted court. One by one the commons laid their pleas before Edmyn Tully. As a simple serving-man and friend of his lordship, Argus only filled his cup upon request.
"Some of the cities watch have made it a sport to come and rape my beloved, my lord", a peasant in soiled linens said. "They kick my doors and command guest right. I tell them I will gladly share what little food and drink I have, so long as they spare my beautiful Serra". A single tear rolled down the cheek of the old grey-beard. "Bugger that they say. We'll have the bread and the whore."
The lordling sat upon his chair seething. "Tell me what you know of these men, good citizen, and I shall see them gelded for their injustice." The man nodded, "aye, and send them to the Wall. Let them answer to king Harrens brother." Edmyn appeared to be in conflict with himself. Argus had grown quite accustomed to that particular look. Calmly, he walked to the small arms table that sat by his lord, lifted his cup, and filled. As he sat down the heavy wooden cup, Edmyn said, "you know me all too well, friend, as frightened as I am to say it." His lordship smiled brightly. "You would be of more use if you weren't so accustomed to pouring wine."
In three years of loyal service to Edmyn Tully, Argus had never felt at such a loss of words. He only stood there, the eyes of the whole room, the old man, the household guardsmen, and his fellow serving-men were on him alone. Argus noticed none, only the piercing, narrow eyes of Edmyn Tully.
"What is it you mean to do with life, Argus?" The lord of Riverrun was staring into his very soul. "Serve," the wine-bearer gave answer.
Edmyns eyes filled with amusement, as if he'd known Argus longed to fight for him, sword in hand. "And serve you shall, dear friend." His lordship gestured for a guardsman to come, and he whispered in the man's ear. As the man left off, the lord of Riverrun rose, "My friend, these sorry rapists will be dealt with accordingly. Give all the information you know of these animals to Maester Tallbart, so Argus here can fetch them for judgment. He turned to Argus, "You shall have two men with you. I've sent one to fetch you a sword and a boiled leather jerkin with house Tully's arms upon it. The other you may choose". As the lord finished, a stocky, barrel-chested boy that looked to be of an age with Argus burst forward from the ranks of the serving-men. "Me, my lord. I would fight for you." Lord Edmyn turned, "Aye, I see." A smile swept across his face, "we look to shed no blood in the streets, lad. If it's a fight you're looking for, you've come to the wrong place."
The stocky youth shrugged, "My want is to serve, my lord, same as his," he pointed to Argus, who was still frozen in disbelief. "So many wishing to serve, so few deserving servitude," Edmyn allowed a frown to cross his lips. "Your name, Lad?"
Bold as a northern wolf the boy stepped forward, "Donnel, my lord," he spoke with a man's voice this time, without a hint of the child he was. Lord Edmyn took notice as well. Craning his head, he said, "A strong name, might I ask, Donnel who?" The boy called Donnel looked about quizzically, "only the one name, my lord. My mother and father were killed when I was six. Don't much remember them, truth be told. Though sometimes, whilst I lay abed, I can hear the faintest and sweetest song. A beautiful voice through the dreary darkness, and I know it's mine own sweet mother. But, as it happens, once those two went off and got a sword through their bellies, I, being the little lad I was, found myself with nowhere to go. For eight days and eight nights I sat in the doorway of the dank shack we'd called home. I did not eat or drink until Aleria, the mothing of a serving wench in my lord's service, came to me with bread and water. I never remembered my father's name, or my mother's for the matter. In the end, Aleria spoke with a friend that serves in the keep and got me in as a serving-man. For three years I've poured wine and cleaned floors. I'm begging now for the chance to lay waste to any enemies of the house Tully."
Edmyn looked at Argus and considered his expression. "You will serve," he said to the lad. "Dorius, fetch him a sword and dagger." Before the guard named Dorius could make off after the weapons, the lad spoke up, "Beg pardon, my lord. But I'm more suited for a Warhammer." Edmyn looked the boy over thrice, and then half whispered, "You shall have it then."
As the old man told the Maester of the rapists, the lord of Riverrun turned to the crowd that waited. "Good people, this court is concluded. If any choose to lay their issues before me on the morrow, you will be heard." As group after group of small-folk left the Great Hall, Edmyn sat. The ever aging Maester Tallbart approached him bearing the parchment with the names of the accused upon it. "Thank you, Maester. I will have no further need of you this evening." Whilst the old man left, his lordship turned to Argus, "Are you clear on what I will have of you?" All at once, Argus found his tongue, "No, my lord. What am I to do? How am I to find these men?" Edmyn seed amused, "All one must do is ask." He held the paper to his right, "Pass this along the men. If any of you know the two on this paper, be so kind as to tell Argus here about them" With that, Edmyn rose and strode off to his chambers.
Before the parchment got to the fourth man, Argus had enough information. "Aye, I know the two," the third man said, "couple of castle-watch they are. Always together it seems. They usually go to the Three Crowns brothel near the Rivergate, once they're relieved. 'Round sunset most like. But be weary, friend. They aren't the sort to give up meekly."
As fate would have it, sunset was upon them. Donnel made his way to Argus after questioning the man further. Extending his hand he said, "Donnel. Pleasure to meet you. Argus is it not?" Though the strong lad was the same age as Argus, he had come into his manhood hard. He had massive shoulders that forced him to turn sideways in most doorways. His flat, broad face was completed by a thin chinstrap of red hair. The hand that came to greet Argus enveloped his own as they shook. "Aye, what more have you gotten on the rapists?" Donnel released his hand, "The two of them are brothers, fueled by blood-lust and rage. Ronnet over there says there's no way they'll answer for their crimes without a sword in their hands. If it comes to that…" He left the rest for Argus to puzzle out. "If they must have blood, let it be their own," he said after a moment's pause. Donnel was clearly pleased by the notion, "Let us be on our way then. For this may be the first day Argus and Donnel shed blood together."
Or the last.
By the time the three men set off, the sun was nearly lost to sight. Lucerion, the man Lord Edmyn chose to accompany Argus, had given him a castle-forged longsword that glimmered beautifully in the setting sun. As he sheathed it, he thanked Lucerion. "Piss on your thanks, let us be done with this so I might rid myself of you." Argus stayed calm as still water, with a smile he said, "Let us be off then."
The Rivergate was a short walk from the lords keep. Argus and Donnel sat off at a brisk pace, leaving the much older Lucerion to play catch-up. "Slow down you little bastards, some parts don't work so well when aged." Though the older man was only in his thirties, he was so battle-worn and bitter; the boys had no choice but to slow.
By the time the three men arrived at the brothel, the sun was gone entirely. Only the faint blue light of dusk remained when they got to the door. Lucerion stopped abruptly before entering and turned to the boys. "The two sots we're looking for are named Borous and Miles. They are no strangers to battle, and want nothing so much as to fuck you with your swords." Donnel laughed aloud and Argus nodded solemnly. He pushed open the door and the smell of perfumes and sex stood out to greet them. As Argus made his way in, he saw men and whores everywhere. Some of the whores were standing along a grey stone wall, whilst most of the men were sitting and pointing to those they wanted.
He saw men dicing and whores laughing, girls no older than Argus were being trained in the art of pillow-play. "What place is this," Argus asked, then immediately felt like a child. "Just a common whores place, boy. There are a thousand more across the realm with worse things than this." He spoke as though he were talking with a half-wit. "I find it rather endearing," Donnel threw in. "Enough," Lucerion growled, "Now, there are the two we're here for. You lot just stay behind me and stay quiet."
The rapists were seated at table together, whores upon their laps. One was huge, with a beard to match. He had close-set eyes and a mouth that would loose a curse as quick as a smile. The other was a small, slender man. He had long hair that bounded into an immense braid, and in place of his left eye was a dark brown leather patch. His good eye was a deep slate grey that seemed to glide across the room, searching for something.
"…Oh Miles, shut your bloody mouth. Never have you bed a mare." They were arguing, sending the whores into fits of giggles and smiles. "I have too. Or at least I've tried. I fear she ran away in terror." The whores laughed even louder, snorting and slobbering. The three men approached the table and Lucerion cleared his throat. "You two, whores, be gone" They made to rise until the two men pulled them back down.