Thanks for all of the reviews.

I know that actual winter doesn't come to Westeros until late in the fourth book, but winter does come and go in the other books, it's just that Westeros is so warm for most that it's not really thought about anywhere but the North. Everything below the Neck is more like autumn and the fields can still be planted even in "winter". I think the "winter" in the fourth book is the first one in a while with actual snow appearing below the Neck.

Other than that, I'd have to say that the last chapter was harder to get up than I imagined. I had a rough idea of what I wanted, but couldn't pace it right (thus the long chapter) and then my laptop died. It took a while before I could get all the information transferred to my wife's laptop (which might be on its last legs too since it's older than my laptop) and for me to get back into the grove of writing. And it's summer so I've been trying to enjoy the weather between all the other stuff going on around here.

Oh, and I'm bringing in some of the fantastic creatures from Ivalice. I realize that AsoIaF is considered a low fantasy setting, but I'm going to try and balance the two realms. Just be glad I didn't bring Cloud's world or even the Ivalice of FFXII or Vagrant Story with their sky ships.

Ramza

The warm, humid air of King's Landing made the city seem all the more oppressive and the mood heavy to the Stormrider's commander in the aftermath of the trial. He could still smell the blood in the chamber even though the King had ordered the room cleaned once the trial was over and all the nobles of the court and visiting nobles and knights had left.

The sudden summons had not surprised him in the least, though he did not know the specifics he figured that it had to do with why Tywin Lannister had agreed to come to court. The man had loved his children, at least the two older ones, and seeing them killed could not have been easy for him, especially when he could have attempted to muster his considerable forces in an effort to defy the King, his former son-in-law.

Aside from the Warden of the West, Lord Stannis Baratheon was in attendance with a young boy close to Alma's age. Though Stannis had many of the same facial features as his elder brother, his posture and demeanor were clearly different. The King was a man free with his emotions be they rage, merriment, joy, or lust; Lord Stannis appeared to be the opposite unless rigidity was an emotion.

The boy had the black hair of the Baratheon's and many of the facial features common amongst the three elder Baratheon men, but the way that he looked at the King and the King glanced at him it appeared that this boy was another one of the King's bastards. He appeared to be younger than Gendry in that he was shorter than Gendry had been when the he had joined the Stormriders. This boy also appeared to have lived a fairly simple and easy life as he lacked the muscles that his half-brother had as well as the callouses that told of hard work with his hands.

As the local face of the Stormriders, Pauline stepped forward to announce them.

"We know who you are and why you are here," the King's Hand said as he eyed the group. "The Stormriders have risen much in the months since I became the Hand of the King. Not only did one of your number win the Tourney, but another had even won the Melee, and a third took second in the Archery competition. Rather than accepting the prize money you wished to be recognized as an organization that served the Realm, proven your worth numerous times already, and proven your loyalty and dedication to the King and the Realm.

"With the failed assassination attempt we of the Small Council had feared that perhaps the Warden of the West might raise his banners against us rather than answering the King's summons. Though Lord Tywin Lannister came to King's Landing of his own volition he did have several terms."

'That is why they called us here,' Ramza surmised. 'What role will they wish us to play now?'

"We understand that the Stormriders did not want any members that were in direct succession to any noble houses. Loras Tyrell is not the heir to the Tyrell family, but should something have happened to Willis it was possible to have Margary take over.

"Due to the recent events in King's Landing, Lord Tywin Lannister has no heir. He has provided us with sufficient information about a child he fathered after the passing of his late wife Joanna." Ramza followed the Hand's gaze to the bald Warden of the West and former Hand of King Aerys II. "He was loathed to admit that after the passing of his wife he took a bastard daughter of House Serrett to bed some 17 years past. Though their tryst occurred only on the one night, a she birthed a boy before passing. Those in attendance noted that the boy had his mother's blue eyes but his father's blond locks."

He could feel all eyes turning to him, though Ramza knew better than to return their looks or even to glance at his comrades. 'Lord Tywin has agreed to forgive the Crown half of the loans in exchange for not being associated with his eldest son and only daughter's assassination attempt, but in return he wishes for an heir.'

"She named the boy Radd," the Hand said, drawing gasps from a few of the council members. "Unfortunately as he was the bastard son of a bastard daughter few in House Serrett kept tabs on the boy and one day some ten years past he vanished."

Suddenly everything made sense – Marach's prolonged silence in the weeks when the rest of the Stormriders headed north after the assassination attempt, the way he shied away from speaking of the brokered peace – Marach knew, and he had used the pretense the Pauline was the face of the Stormriders in King's Landing to avoid appearing in court when Lord Tywin's request was made public. From the slight twitch in Radd's sword hand it was clear that he had not known what their friend and compatriot had agreed to, though he had clearly also made the connection.

"My King," Tywin said as he stepped forward, "I humbly request that you acknowledge Radd as my son and heir."

Though uncomfortable, the King stood up before nodding in ascent, "So be it – I, Robert Baratheon, first of my name and the King of the Realm, do acknowledge your son, Radd Lannister." He turned his commanding gaze to Radd, "As the rightful heir to House Lannister and Casterly Rock, Radd Lannister, you may choose to either remain with the Stormriders, or return to Casterly Rock with your father so that you may assume your birthright."

"I… I will always be a Stormrider at heart," Radd said as he bowed his head. Left unsaid was that he knew that Lord Tywin was not his father and that he had in essence been sold to Casterly Rock in exchange for peace.

It was a noble sacrifice, one that even Ramza could not fault Marach for. The former assassin had ignored the King's decree that the Stormriders not contact the Lannisters, but he had done so to sue for peace in the realm.

Radd's light blue eyes locked onto his bright blue eyes, "It has been my honor to serve with you, all of you." The former mercenary reached for the buckle of his sword belt.

"It has been an honor and a privilege for us as well," Ramza returned as he grasped Radd's hand. "Keep them - you've earned them and more."

The other Stormriders encircled their comrade, some shaking his hand, others patting him on the back and shoulder as they exchanged a few parting words. Finally Radd returned his attention to Ramza, "Have Marach ready my things, I shall try to stop by tonight or on the morrow for them."

Ramza nodded then watched as his friend walked over to his "father".

"As we are speaking of recognizing sons and heirs," the King said loudly though uncomfortably as he drew the attention of those present, "I would like to recognize my sons, Edric and Gendry." His proclamation elicited a reaction from his future wife and queen and her contingent, though he held his hand up to keep anyone from interrupting him. "I do this because the failed assassination attempt has shown that I do not have a true heir. I hope to change that upon wedding the lovely Margary Tyrell, but should we fail to produce a true heir, Gendry as the eldest will be first in line to succeed then Edric."

"But this Gendry, his mother is common born?" the Master of Coin asked, his tone slightly surprised by the royal edict.

"She is," it was the Hand who answered. "He is still the King's son, and from all accounts" he nodded at Ramza and the Stormriders "he has acquitted himself well in battle and has become an invaluable member of the Stormriders. We hope that circumstances do not necessitate that either he or his brother take the throne, but should it ever come to that then announcing it now should alleviate any future concerns.

"As Gendry is already serving with the Stormriders his place is there until the Realm should require more from him. Edric shall stay at court in King's Landing so that he may be brought up in court and prepared in the duties of a noble lord. If he wishes he can apply to join the Stormriders or even the Night's Watch, or he can remain at court."

All eyes turned to Edric Baratheon. "I, I would like to stay in King's Landing."

The Hand nodded, "It is decided then – Edric shall remain at court."

"If the Stormriders are no longer needed," Pauline said, drawing the Hand's attention back to the group.

The King and the Hand exchanged a look, before turning to the other members of the Small Council. "There is nothing else for us to discuss at the moment," the Hand finally said. "I am sure that Lord Tywin has much to discuss now that he has been reunited with his son, and the Stormriders are busy with other matters. The Small Council shall reconvene in the morning to discuss the Royal wedding. I do hope that the Stormriders will have graduated some of their recruits by then as the Gold Cloaks are busy with the sheer number of visitors for the wedding."

"We have not had a chance to properly test them," Pauline replied. "There is only so much that we can do in the confines of the city. Had we known we might have sent for more of our brethren from Icemark."

"Regrettable," Lord Baelish remarked, "though the wedding date has yet to be set, we were thinking that the Spring Equinox would be a wonderful day for the ceremony. That is nearly two months away still, perhaps enough time for more of the Stormriders to arrive."

"We are still busy preparing Icemark," Meliadoul interjected. "The six of us that came were all that could be spared. In truth we were hoping to take the new batch of recruits north to fortify Icemark and Queensgate."

"Though winters in the Crownlands are mild compared to those in the North, returning to the North now would only get you stuck in the Neck. We may not have the fierce snows but we do have plenty of rain during winter. The roads are muddy and the rivers high and swift. The Trident would be impossible to ford and nearly as difficult to navigate," the Master of Coin added. "Why not take the new recruits south towards High Garden and Dorne? The roads are easier, and the weather fairer."

"Actually," it was the Hand's turn to interrupt the lesser lord "the Realm is in need of a new Warden of the East. Young Robert is too young to be the acting Warden; as such it falls upon his cousin Harrold Hardyng. It is unfortunate that he had not been able to participate in the last tourney but he is a formidable lancer and knight. Though young, he has earned the favor of many in the Vale and was even appointed as the Defender of the Vale by my predecessor Jon Arryn.

"We will send out ravens to all of the castles and lords as well, but the official writ will be delivered by the Stormriders proclaiming Harrold as the new Warden of the East."

Bran

Growing up in Winterfell Bran had thought that he'd experienced the full fury of winter in the north. Like his dreams of adventure beyond the Wall though the reality of the situation was far less enjoyable. Even with the forge's incredible fire warming a spring and bath for the inhabitants of Icemark, the chill of winter along the Wall was never far away.

Despite the cold Bran found himself enjoying Icemark. As the youngest of the recruits and as Rapha and Reis he was tasked with different duties. It was his responsibility to mix the oils used in the forge, prepare the potions along with Alma and Reis, and light the braziers along the wall. After a month of practice he could now create a controlled fire strong enough to light a brazier. Thus far he had yet to actually use any spells in battle, but he had learned the theory and could cast them outside of battle.

The only time that he went on patrol was when he skin-walked into Summer, and that was only when Beowulf and Reis were in the patrol. That was also the only time that he did not feel the chill of winter.

Today's patrol was the first time he'd been allowed to join without controlling Summer, though the direwolf was present with them. The six person squad was headed by Beowulf. Reis and Bran provided the others with support while Summer was their guard, leaving Brea, Mycah and Gendry on the frontlines along with the commander.

But they were more than just a patrol; they were also tasked with hunting while they were on the move as they did not want to stress the limited resources that the farmers and ranchers had brought with them. Only the aurochs and goats were able to forage, though on the coldest nights the goats could freeze if they failed to return to the rancher/farmer's barn. The fowl and smaller mammals needed to be kept in a pen so as not to be picked off by the many wild dogs/wolves and shadowcats that prowled the land regardless of which side of the Wall the farms were on.

Thus far their patrol had been forced to dine on wolf and shadowcat flesh, though there was an occasional turkey or rabbit. Few of the previous squads had gone too far past the line of trees as the thick forests made the way difficult and the animals were not used to seeing humans and thus were not afraid of them. Still, Mycah had been encouraged as they eliminated more and more of the predators than the creatures that they preyed on would experience a population growth in the spring.

Summer's sudden growl alerted them to the presence of something in the woods ahead.

Beowulf was immediately on the defensive. Though he was one of the senior commanders of the Stormriders, all knew that Ramza was the true commander and that he was very protective of his sister regardless of her ability to take care of herself. The addition of Bran did not help either despite the fact that he had supposedly sworn to serve the realm and put aside his family.

The others quickly dismounted before taking their respective positions. As the support team Bran and Alma remained mounted, ready to prepare any necessary spells or potions should the others need them, while also minding the horses.

Watching Beowulf flash several hand signals Bran understood that there was a pack of shadow cats ahead of them. He did not relish the idea of having to clean more of the ferocious cats as their flesh was fairly tough, but their furs would help keep out the cold.

Mycah was quickly becoming a terror with the knife. It had started with the fact that he used it so much while skinning and butchering the animals, then grown as he became more comfortable with knives and daggers to the point that he could now pick out the weak spots in someone's armor or find the gaps in the armor so that his blades could do their damage.

For his part Gendry was just as lethal with his hammer, but his knowledge of armor and weapons had helped him master the skills that a knight employed. As much as he relished the accomplishment, it also meant that he had to set aside his beloved Warhammer for a bow.

While the boys focused on their physical skills Brea had begun to learn spell craft while also mastering the curved single edge swords. She was nearly as good as Bran at healing spells, though she was just as accomplished as he in casting the lower level fire, ice, and thunder spells.

For his part the young Stark had begun to realize that despite the chill of winter about them, the ice spell was generally the most powerful and effective spell he could cast. Not only did it not damage the furs of the creatures he cast it on, the second tier of the spell would actually encase the target in ice. The second tier fire spell completely melted the field for some ten paces but could melt the snow or burn the earth so that nothing would grow. Thunder's second level would knock over trees or leave a noticeable hole in the ground. He shuddered to think what the third and master levels of the spells could do, not to mention the even more potent and powerful Flare spell.

A shadowcat's cry filled the glade then several more joined it. By his count there were six, suggesting that he and Alma would need to join the fray in some way. Suddenly a strange roar answered the shadowcats.

"Behemoth," Beowulf muttered. "It sounds like its fighting a pack of shadow cats."

All eyes turned to him, focusing on his back as he pondered their situation. Large predators would be a threat to the patrols on this side of the Wall, but if they were fighting something else than they weren't currently a threat to the patrol.

"Everyone on their guard," the commander finally said as he led them towards the other end of the glade.

It took the patrol perhaps a minute to reach the other end of the glade, a few seconds beyond that to pierce the thick foliage that separated it from another smaller glade. Six shadowcats were engaged with a gigantic purple beast with horns. The beast's shoulders were at least twice as tall as a mounted man, its horns as long as a long sword, and a row of sharp teeth larger than his head. Yet as formidable as it appeared to be it was clear that the old beast was not in its prime. Loose flesh hung from its long limbs while the skin along the ribs clung to the once mighty ribs. A shadowcat actually hung from the excess skin on the beast's rear leg, though its claws failed to pierce the larger monster's tough hide.

He knew what the creature was, though he had not expected to see a grumpkin in his life. Then again, he had thought that about direwolves until Rob and John had brought the pups back to Winterfell.

A powerful shake of the grumpkin's head threw snow out of its yellow mane even as it nearly impaled the largest of the shadowcats. Two other shadowcats took advantage of its distraction, rushing in and pouncing on its back. Their claws failed to find purchase on the behemoth's thick hide, though their weight knocked the larger beast off balance.

"Take out the shadowcats," Beowulf ordered. Unlike the majority of the Stormriders, Beowulf rarely used the hand gestures that the younger members employed.

Gendry was the first to strike, his bow managing to sink and arrow into the hindquarters of the closest shadowcat. Beowulf was next, using his mystical sword techniques to mysteriously cut the same cat and killing it.

Had anyone told Bran that they had thought to take on a shadowcat with naught but a pair of knives the young Stark would have called them a fool. But that was before he'd seen how well Mycah was with his blades. Ducking under a cat's leap, the butcher's boy countered with a wicked slash that eviscerated the beast.

Brea was more sensible as she backed her cat up as she slashed with her heavy axe. She managed to score a hit, smashing the striped cat's paw though it scored a swipe against her thigh in exchange. Howling in pain, the cat pulled back, only to be struck in the side by an arrow from Gendry. Brea finished it off with a mighty hit to the head, shattering the skull more than cleaving through the bone and brain.

Mycah and Beowulf teamed up to take another shadowcat down while the hulking beast managed to kill the rest of the cats by crushing one as it fell on its side and then swiping at the other. The powerful blow sent the beast flying through the glade, landing hard against a boulder.

Injured as it was, the beast fought to get to its legs. Falling down as it did it had suffered nearly as much as the cat that it had crushed.

Fearlessly Alma dismounted before striding up to the injured behemoth. "You're hurt."

The beast snorted.

"We are not your enemies," the girl said calmly as she reached out a hand.

"Alma!" Beowulf cautioned.

The girl ignored him.

Sighing in resignation, the commander sheathed his blade. "Gather the cats and help Mycah skin them."

"You're just letting her approach it?" Gendry scoffed.

Beowulf shrugged. "She has a way with beasts. I've only ever seen Ramza bond with creatures quicker. It must be something in their blood."

The young Stark was transfixed by the image of the calm girl approaching the fearsome beast, soothing it with her words as though it understood her and she understood it. Despite her best efforts the beast died before Mycah had even skinned the first shadowcat.

"She was protecting her den," Alma stated as she closed the beast's eyes. "Bring me your blanket."

The others glanced around, not sure who she was talking to. Finally Beowulf sighed, nudging Bran. "Get the oil; we're going to burn the corpse. Behemoth flesh is too tough to eat and this one was more skin than meat." Pulling out his sack he followed Alma into the beast's den. "Save some of the offal for the babies."

"We're bringing them back?" Mycah asked.

"I'd never thought to see a grumpkin," Bran said as he eyed the huge corpse. "It's almost like when my father, Rob, and John found the direwolf pups."

Ramza

The winter rains of the Crownlands and Vale were mild in comparison to the snowstorms in the Northlands. The muddy ground barely slowed the Stormriders and their mounts, and even the swift currents of the Trident failed to impede their progress, though several of the new recruits had paled at the thought of crossing. As always, Ramza led by example, taking his mount at a casual gallop across the surface of the river. It was the recruits' first experience with magic, though they had all been sworn to secrecy.

Rather than taking the King's Road until it crossed the Trident and met at the crossroads Ramza took his troupe directly north once. Sticking to the roads would mean that they would reach the Eyrie in three weeks, but the direct course would see them there in a fortnight. A dozen men and a baker's dozen of women they were, taking a score Marach's best and older recruits and leaving another score of disappointed recruits to continue training. Some of the recruits had even grown up in the villages of Rosby, Antlers, and Maidenpool, or the numerous holdfasts scattered between King's Landing and the Trident, unfortunately for them the Stormriders did not stop at any place other than to rest for the night.

It was not until they had crossed the Trident and reached the mountains of the Vale that Ramza began shortening their daily treks. At first the younger recruits had thought it because of the terrain, and in part it was that. The rocky ground was harder for their horses, but it was the dangers that the mountains hid that concerned their commander. The nightly guard had consisted of three shifts of six, usually with two members of the group that had come down from the wall. Only the second shift did not though Ramza was confident that he and five recruits could handle that shift.

Guard duty was the best way for him to actually sit down and converse with the raw recruits. Most were a year or two younger than he was, reaching the age where they began to apprentice with a merchant or start as a squire, yet here they were decked out in full armor and brandishing finely honed blades.

Having trained under Pauline and Wilfrid they were by now acceptable squires and chemists, able to pick out the plants that were poisonous and those that were edible or usable in potions and salves. Walder, Brienne, and Katia had been just like them only months ago, yet here they were taking command of boys and girls only a few months younger than they. It was an odd sense of pride and fear that Ramza felt when he watched them interacting that way.

Even over the sound of over a score of riders cautiously making their way up the game trail he managed to hear the sound of the mountain clans' raiders/warriors as they sought to catch the Stormriders unawares. The subtle hand jesters he flashed to Meliadoul were enough to her signal to the four chemists to be ready and to spread the word to their companions. When the thirty plus raiders finally emerged the Stormriders were ready to meet them.

"I would suggest that you not attack us," Ramza announced as he handed the reins to his mount to one of the recruits. The man he addressed was standing on a ledge some fifteen feet above the Stormriders. Six men stood atop the cliff, one a large man that was clearly the group's leader, the rest providing ranged attacks for the raiders. Another dozen men were on the winding trail to the left of the ledge, and a score of armed men and women were on the trail to the right. "We serve the King and are tasked with delivering a message on his behalf – interfering would make you enemies of the realm."

A tall, powerful man in mismatching black furs wielding a powerful axe looked down on them. "I see no men before me." Blackened ears hung off a string necklace, blending in with the black vest he wore over his chainmail.

"It is true that we are much younger than you and you outnumber us, we are better armed."

"Your women and arms will soon be ours," the man sneered. A nod of his head was all he needed as three bows twanged, each releasing an arrow at Ramza.

With casual ease Ramza swatted the shafts out of the air breaking in to a sprint. Laughter nearly hid the sound of two more bows unleashing their missiles at him. His was supposedly a suicide attack meant to stall the raiders while the rest of his party sought better ground to fight on, yet the Stormriders knew better. With the difference in height the Stormriders were unable to use their bows, and Ramza did not want to break out their other ranged weapons. Instead of breaking to one of the trails he leapt straight up. To a master lancer as him the height was not even an inconvenience. Landing in the midst of the startled clansmen he quickly spun around, knocking the unprepared warriors off of the ledge or onto their companions with a volley of kicks and punches.

Laughter was quickly replaced with a mixture of shouts of pain and battle cries as the Stormriders followed his charge. Only Meliadoul, Walder, and Brienne remained behind to guard their flank and the horses. In groups of two or three the raw recruits fought, controlling an area of roughly five square paces rather than fighting shoulder to shoulder.

The clansmen were as unprepared for this tactic as they had been for Ramza's charge. Their numerical advantage was negated by the narrow trails, limiting their approach. Without the cover fire that their archers were supposed to provide their numbers quickly fell to the younger warriors' better armor and weapons. Rusted mail failed to prevent the quality blades from cutting down the clansmen. Uncanny strength fueled by a mixture of youth and adrenaline kept the Stormriders from faltering or even buckling as the ferocious clansmen smashed into their shields and armor with their unkempt weapons. They would have bruises and even a few shallow cuts beneath their armor, but for the most part their armor kept them alive.

"We are young," Ramza stated as he eyed the men around him, "but we are the superior force – there is no dishonor in surrendering."

The big man in black snarled a guttural response that Ramza could not understand.

"This fight has not yet started," a second clansman translated.

The hulking axman swung his axe at Ramza, an act that needed not translation. Still unarmed, Ramza stepped into the blow, clasping the shaft of the axe in one hand even as he drove his forearm into his attacker's nose. Dazed, the man's grip on the axe relaxed enough for Ramza to rip it from his hand before sending it flying at an archer. The powerful weapon severed the bowman's taunt string before the wooden handle smashed into his face.

The translator rushed him with a pair of long curved daggers that did little beyond scuffing the finish on his grieves. He answered the man's attack with a punch to the kidneys and a second to the ribs. The man kneeled over in pain, gasping for air even as he dropped his blades.

A rough stone filled Ramza's hand for a second before being flung at another bowman before turning to face another clansman. Even as he ducked under a slash from this attacker's sword he heard the sound of his stone connecting with flesh and the breaking of bone. "If I drew my blades, you would all be dead," he stated as he stared at the last of his assailants. The woman wore a necklace of ears similar to the one that the group's leader had, though hers had significantly fewer ears.

"It is good that you have not drawn them then," she said through a forced smile. Picking up one of the discarded daggers she twirled it around, testing its balance. In her other hand she wielded a hatchet.

In answer Ramza stood tall, "Feel the Earth's anger running through my arms!" Though he was several feet from her he threw a powerful punch. The force behind the blow was not delivered by his fist, but by the accumulated chi in his fist and in the earth beneath his feet. The dozen or so clansmen on the trail to the right of the cliff as well as the woman before him felt the brunt of the monk's most powerful attack. None of the Stormriders had reached the trail, opting to fight on the more even ground of the larger trail before it forked before the cliff. Ramza's attack stunned each of the clansmen and women on the trail near the ledge.

The remaining archers dropped their weapons. "Mercy!" they seemed to shout in unison. "We surrender!"

The archers' cries reached their companions' ears over the din of the fighting. From his vantage he could see that less than a dozen remained standing though none of the Stormriders had any significant injuries.

Disheartened, several clansmen sought to run, only to be caught by the Stormrider's archers; the rest made the prudent choice and surrendered, dropping their weapons.

Half of the Stormriders secured the prisoners; the other half gathered the injured. Ramza tied the defeated men at his feet up then guided them down the trail so that he could reunite them with their comrades. "We'll camp her tonight," he told the other Stormriders.

"What about their injuries?" one of the new recruits asked.

Ramza glanced at Meliadoul then shrugged. "Any injured Stormriders come here, circle around me."

Curious, they did as commanded. Of the score of them that had fought only five had not been injured. It was a good sign for their first true battle. His feet firmly planted on the rocky ground he felt the flow of the chakra in the ground beneath him and merged his own into the flow so that his energy coursed through the other Stormriders about him. Their light injuries were healed leaving nothing but their dented armor or torn clothes to indicate that they had even been injured in the battle.

"Those of you who are capable of tending to your armor and weapons do so, but try to assist any of those who have not yet learned to do so," he ordered the recruits. Meliadoul needed no orders as she began to look over the recruits, inspecting them and their armor. Brienne, Walder, and Anya began to break the others into groups to set up the camp and guard the prisoners. Their actions kept the recruits from lingering and gazing at him wonderstruck at the feat he had just performed. Paying them no heed, he strode over to the injured clansmen. Lost in the cluster of Stormriders he was been out of their line of sight and had likely not seen the results of his actions. "You have injured," he stated rather than asked. "I will not waste healing salves or potions on you." It was cruel, but true.

"Then you would let us die like dogs?" the woman who he had punched snarled.

He shook his head, "I will show you mercy." Clenching his fists he again focused his chakra into the ground, healing those who stood within five paces of him. The archer that had his arm broken was the first to let out a startled cry as his wound was suddenly healed. The limp limb was now whole and showed no sign of ever being injured.

"Wha-what sorcery is this?" the man who had led the clansmen demanded as he touched his repaired nose.

"No sorcery," Ramza stated, "though I know of true sorcery that would make this feat pale in comparison. As I told her" he nodded at the woman with the necklace of ears "had I drawn my blades you would all have been dead. Had we fought with all our might none of you would be alive now. It is only at the King's mercy that you are alive now. I bring you this one warning – if you continue to raid and pillage the Vale the Stormriders will return to hunt you down and exterminate you. You fought but a score of our recruits and lost – imagine if you fought a score of them as powerful as I? We would level the mountains just to find and eliminate you."

He could see the fear in their eyes, especially the eyes of those who had been on the trail when he had hit them with the Earth Slash punch.

The big clansman was humbled. He'd experienced Ramza's might firsthand and seen the destruction wrought. There was no denying that the boy before him was capable of all that he said, yet there was no alternative for his people. "I know that the Vale is not a rich land," Ramza added. "But your raiding does not benefit anyone. Take your people north to the Gift. You will not have to bend your knee to the king or any of the noble houses, though you may be asked to assist the Night's Watch and the Stormriders. In the Gift and along the Wall we need strong men and women such as you to protect the realm. You will be compensated for your sword arm, and those who wish to take up farming or ranching are always welcome."

"We have not animals to raise or tend," one of the archers stated. "If we had we might be able to feed ourselves. Here we are fortunate to kill a goat or ram, or maybe even a shadowcat, but the land is hard and few animals thrive here."

"Take your people to the Gift," Ramza reiterated. "If you wish to live an honest life then the Stormriders will assist your families. There is plenty of land in the Gift and the land is not as hard as it is here. The Winters are harsh, but manageable."

There were slight murmurs of talk amongst the clansmen. He knew that some would take up his offer, but others would not.

"Take out the venison," he ordered the younger Stormriders. "We shall share our food with the clansmen and women tonight."

"Sir?" the young recruit replied, bewildered by the order.

"Is it not said that if those who share food are not allowed to attack their hosts or guests else a dark fate shall befall them?"

The boy nodded in response.

"Is it not that way with the mountain clans as well?" he asked their captives.

Many of them nodded in agreement.

Before the sun set behind the mountains, the camp had several roaring fires going with one large pit roasting several haunches of venison as well as a pot of stew. The camp lacked the usual relaxed air that the Stormriders had the previous nights, but at least the recruits did not question the standing order that they stay in their armor. Things seemed to ease once the first bowls of stew were served to all of the Stormriders and the clansmen. It also helped that only daggers and knives were given back to the clansmen.

By the second serving several of the archers had approached Ramza, seeking to take him up on the offer of relocating their families to the Gift. The idea that they would not be taxed by a lord or be forced to rally to their banners was appealing, as was the offer of having land and animals purchased for them. They were not dissimilar to the poor wretches in the city who were forced into a life of crime just so that they could survive. Though the Vale was vast, but its riches were limited. There were few farms in the Vale, as the mountains offered little soil for planting. The few lords who had farms had the soil transported to their farms and even those failed to meet the needs of the populace. Instead they relied on the orchards that the commoners groomed along the sides of the mountains. The fruits also attracted deer, goats, and rams, keeping a manageable population of each nearby. Of course they also attracted predators such as wolves and shadowcats as well as birds of prey.

The Vale's major resources were ore and stone, supplying the other realms with enough of both so that they could build their castles and armies. That allowed the nobles to purchase sufficient food to keep those under their care fed, but the mountain clans who refused to bend their knees were forced to raid and pillage just to have enough food to eat. The nobles could not support them either, opting instead to train knights to fight off the clansmen rather than feed them.

It was a situation similar to Ivalice after the end of the Fifty Year War. This world was really not too different from his homeworld.

By the end of the night all five of the clansmen archers had opted to join up with the Stormriders, accepting that they would be recruits alongside the bulk of the group. Several other clansmen had left bearing a writ from Ramza promising them protection as they made their way to the Gift. The rest had left with the understanding that if there were any further attacks against the Stormriders then they would not be shown any mercy.

A/N

I think I'll leave things there for now. Next Chapter – Lysa Arryn