Walton
A disorganized mass of some few hundred knights, soldiers and civilians marched in the light rain along the road leading to Ashford. The Reachmen had been defeated in the Battle of Stonebridge, and Ironborn were reported by refugees to be raiding along the Mander. Which means they've broke through my lord father's defenses at the mouth of Mander, Walton Manderly deduced bitterly.
Lord Symon Tarly, who had been like a second father to Walton, had fallen in battle, along with hundreds of other Reachmen. Walton knew among those fallen to be such noblemen as Lord Arstan Roxton, Lord Bernard Bridges, Ser Flement Fossoway, Lord Armen Cockshaw and Ser Hobert Haswyck, whereas Lord Oscar Caswell with his family had presumably been imprisoned by the Lannisters. Ser Garth Meadows and Ser Jon Norridge had led a small force of retreating Reachmen soldiers towards east to the Grassy Vale, but Walton had joined the larger group heading south, led by Ser Richard Ashford, Lord Gordan Middlebury, Ser Ethan Sloane, Merle Flowers and Ser Halmon Hunt. Ethan Sloane and Lord Middlebury with their men had separated from the main group when they reached Sloane Keep on the fourth day. Dozens, if not hundreds, of soldiers had also deserted them during the march, most fleeing in the night towards east. However, it hardly mattered because they were no army to begin with, just a band of defeated men on the run.
On the eight day after the defeat in Stonebridge they finally reached Ashford. The people of the town were clearly fraught with shock as they saw the heir of their lord returning at the head of a defeated force. Women, children and elderly folk rushed to the streets to welcome their returning fathers, husbands and sons, but many were left waiting in vain.
That night Walton joined Halmon Hunt for a jug of ale at one of Ashford's taverns. The tavern was called 'the Singing Soldier', and while it was filled to brim with soldiers that night there was no singing to be heard.
"So, you'll come back to Horn Hill with me, right?" Halmon asked calmly after having downed his first mug of ale.
Walton remained silent for a moment, unsure what to answer. He had been Lord Symon's ward and squire, but now Symon was dead. The rest of the Tarly family were of course also dear to him, but he wasn't sure if he could bear to see them now, much less to be the one to bring them the news of Symon's death. However, he couldn't go to Dunstonbury either. For all he knew the Ironborn could've taken it and slaughtered his family. No, it can't be, Walton tried to convince himself. Dunstonbury is a formidable fortress.
"You'll be welcome there, lad, don't worry about it," Halmon spoke up again, having waited for Walton's answer for a drawn-out moment. "You're part of the family, practically speaking, and Horn Hill might be one of the safest places in all the Reach to be in right now."
"What about Highgarden?" Walton asked quietly, to which Halmon raised an eyebrow.
"I don't know," he answered sincerely. "I know King Greydon was amassing an army there while we marched to Stonebridge, but I have no idea what has happened since. Perhaps he has marched against the Ironborn and been defeated, perhaps he is still fortified in Highgarden and waiting for the Osgreys or the Hightowers to join him."
"Highgarden can't have fallen," Walton insisted. "If it has, this war is already over. No, Greydon must still be amassing his forces. There is still hope, His Grace can still defeat these invaders."
Halmon eyed at Walton with a puzzled expression and gave him a small nod. "What's in your mind, lad?" he inquired.
Walton downed the rest of his ale and took in a deep breath. "I will go to Highgarden," he decided then and there. "I do not wish to hide in Horn Hill. I wish to avenge Symon, to defend the Reach, and to fight alongside my king." And alongside Willam, Walton added in his mind, knowing his second cousin would be by King Greydon's side.
"You have an admirable attitude," Halmon complimented Walton, measuring him with his attentive blue eyes. "But you don't have to do all that. You're a young lad still, not even a man grown, it shouldn't be your responsibility to avenge Lord Symon or to defend the Reach."
"I rode by Lord Symon's side at Stonebridge, killed Lannister soldiers and watched my brothers-in-arms die all around me," Walton sternly reminded the Hunt knight. "I'm not a boy anymore, ser."
Halmon poured himself more ale, nodded his head, and raised the cup in a respectful gesture. "You've clearly made up your mind, lad," he said with a thin and melancholic smile on his handsome face. "Good luck, wherever it is that fate will take you. I'll tell the Lord Tarly's lady wife and children that you fought bravely by Symon's side, and that you are not to blame for his death."
"Thank you, ser."
At first light of the next morning Walton began his ride towards Highgarden, accompanied by a couple dozen mounted fighting men, most notable among them Merle Flowers, the bastard son of the Lord of Cider Hall. Merle was a tall and broad-shouldered man on his mid-twenties, with a square jaw and long sandy blonde hair. He struck Walton as a stern and humorless man, but it may have been just because of the circumstances.
Come evening they camped by a small creek on the lands of House Yelshire, around them a deceivingly peaceful view of green meadows and small woods.
"You're Lord Manderly's son, aye?" Merle Flowers asked Walton as they sat around the campfire. He nodded, keeping his eyes on the flames. "I'll be honest, I've never thought particularly highly about Manderlys," the Fossoway bastard said with a thin smirk. "Always saw you folk as greedy and dishonorable. More mercantile than chivalrous, if you know what I mean."
Walton raised his gaze and narrowed his eyes as he looked at Merle. "House Manderly has produced as many great knights as any great house of the Reach," he protested with a slightly offended tone, to which Merle let out a small chuckle.
"Maybe so," he conceded with a shrug. "Never was much of a student of history. All I know is what I've seen with my own eyes and heard with my own ears. That said, you seem like a fine lad at least."
Begrudgingly Walton decided to just take the compliment and nodded to Merle. There was no further conversation between them that night. Next morning they continued their ride, arriving at Pommingham Hall a few hours before the sunset. There they were welcomed and hosted by Lady Miranda Pommingham, a shapely and plump noblewoman on her early forties, who told them that her lord husband and their two sons had rode to Highgarden over a week ago to join King Greydon's host.
"So, what happened at Stonebridge?" Lady Pommingham asked them at the dinner.
Merle and Walton exchanged a look, after which Merle spoke up. "It was a bloodbath," he said grimly, and Miranda's eyes widened slightly in shock.
"We were badly outnumbered," Merle continued with a sigh. "However, it was at least somewhat under control until their cavalry somehow completely flanked our defenses at the fords."
"They came from the forest," Walton chimed in quietly, remembering only too well the sight of Lannister knights charging towards them. "The forest east of the town… They had moved part of their cavalry there during the night before the battle."
"So, the Lannisters hold the Stonebridge now?" Miranda asked with a saddened tone, and Merle gave her a stern nod. "Where do you think they will go next?" she asked tensely.
"Hard to say," Merle grunted. "They may want to hold on to the territory they've conquered up north, take Tumbleton, Grassy Vale, maybe even Longtable, set up their defenses and bring reinforcements from the Rock, and then just wait for King Greydon to march against them. However, if it were me leading that Lannister army, I'd take the opportunity to march against Highgarden now before Greydon has the time to assemble the full might of the Reach behind him. And if that is indeed what they plan to do, then there will be another great battle very soon, and a decisive one this time."
For a couple seconds Lady Pommingham almost looked like she was about to faint. "May Seven save us all," she finally muttered weakly.
It took them four more days to reach Highgarden. Walton felt weird seeing the great white castle of the Gardener kings again. It hadn't been that long since the great tourney, the festivities and celebrations, Ivar knocking him out in the squire melee, Willam winning the joust. It had all been just weeks ago, but it felt so distant now.
A formidable army had already assembled at Highgarden, having set up their encampment where the tourney fields had been. It was hard to estimate, but Walton was sure it was at least more than ten thousand men, maybe even fifteen thousand. As they got closer, Walton spotted Tarly banners at the southern edge of the camp. Triston is leading those troops, he then remembered. A part of him wanted to go and search Triston right away to tell him all that had happened, but something kept him from doing it. Perhaps it was fear or shame, but nonetheless he remained by Merle Flower's side as they approached the camp from the east.
"Here to join King Greydon's army?" asked the middle-aged knight in House Rowan's colors, who halted them at the edge of the camp.
"Aye," Merle grunted. "We come from Stonebridge, which has fallen to the Lannisters."
"We heard about that some days ago," the knight said with a sigh. "And who might you be?"
"I am Merle Flowers, bastard son of Lord Franklyn Fossoway. With me are a bunch of freeriders and hedge knights, as well as Walton Manderly, son of Lord Waymar Manderly."
The Rowan knight shot an intrigued glance at Walton before speaking up again. "I am Ser Benjamin Ball, one of Lord Lomas Rowan's captains," he finally saw fit to introduce himself. "So, did I understand correctly that you were there at the Battle of Stonebridge?"
"Yes," Merle answered.
"I see," Ser Benjamin said, eyeing them with great interest. "To my knowledge you are the first ones to arrive who were actually there. So far it's all been second hand knowledge or ravens sent from castles near Stonebridge. I imagine His Grace would like to meet you personally, so you can tell him what happened."
"If you say so," Merle muttered nonchalantly.
"Yes, ser, I would be happy to speak to His Grace about what happened at Stonebridge," Walton spoke up confidently, which brought a small approving smile on Ser Benjamin's face.
"I shall take you there right away, follow me."
They had to wait in the audience room for what felt to Walton like an hour, before finally the King arrived. His Grace was escorted into the room by four of his royal guards, Ser Raymund Redwyne, Ser Benedict Bulwer, Ser Arwood Roxton and lastly Ser Willam Manderly. Willam's eyes widened in surprise as he saw Walton, but he didn't break his decorum and remained by the King's side. As Greydon took his seat, both Walton and Merle bent the knee before him.
"Stand up," King Greydon muttered laconically. "Merle Flowers and Walton Manderly," he said nonchalantly as they stood up. "I was told you were at Stonebridge when it fell to the Lannisters."
"Yes, Your Grace," they said in unison, and Merle went on to meticulously explain everything that had happened from the defenses being set up to the Lannisters breaking through them and crushing the Reachman host. Greydon listened through all of it with a calm but tense expression on his face. When Merle was finished, the King remained silent for a drawn-out moment, stroking his greying beard with a ponderous look in his green eyes.
"Thank you, for telling me what you have," he finally spoke up with a slightly distressed tone. "You've served the Reach well."
"Your Grace," Walton spoke up, tensing up as the King shifted his gaze to him. Stiffly he kneeled before him once again, taking in a deep breath. "I wish to offer you my sword in the battles to come, to avenge Lord Symon and to protect this kingdom."
Greydon stood up from his seat and approached Walton, offering him his hand. With a gulp Walton kissed it, and then His Grace helped him back up on his feet. "You've proven yourself to be a courageous young man, Walton Manderly," he complimented him. "When we march to war, you shall be my squire."
Without waiting for an answer from Walton, King Greydon took his leave. The royal guards followed after him, but Willam stopped shortly by Walton. "Congratulations," he whispered, patting Walton on the shoulder. "And sorry, for what you've had to see and go through."
"Thank you," Walton responded sincerely. It felt good to be close to someone he considered family again.
"I'll see you around, lad," Willam said with a friendly tone, before hurrying after his king.
