Myles

The call came drifting through the black of night. There was no mistaking it, the deep boom of the warhorn. Myles pushed himself onto an elbow, his hand reaching for his sword by force of habit as the camp began to stir. The sound of the horn reminded him of the Crossroads.

The long low note lingered at the edge of hearing. The sentries at the stairs leading up to the Sept stood still in their footsteps, eyes heavy with sleep and heads turned toward the west, always watching and waiting for any attack that might come from the Westermen. They had been taken by surprise before and had paid dearly for it and Myles was not looking forward to have caught off guard once more. As the sound of the horn faded, even the wind ceased to blow. Men rolled from their blankets and reached for spears and swordbelts, moving quietly, listening. Just a few feet away from him Aegon Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone, had also woken up from the sound of the horn. For a heartbeat it seemed as if the whole town of Stoney Sept was holding its breath. Myles waited for a second blast, an alert from the sentries posted at the gates, but it never came. And so he knew that there was no foe who was coming for them, at least not for now.

When the silence had stretched unbearably long and the men knew at last that the horn would not wind again, they grinned at one another sheepishly, as if to deny that they had been anxious. Myles sat up on his bed. He could not sleep anymore, not after waking up to the sound of horn at dawn. A servant was feeding a few sticks to the fire, that had been lightened in the square just outside the doors of the Sept. The light coming from the fire illuminated the Sept in a low orange glow. And in the wash of the warmth from the fire, Myles Mooton buckled on his swordbelt, pulled on his boots, shook the dirt and wrinkles from his cloak, and fastened it around his shoulders.

When he reached the fireplace outside the sept, the flames blazed up beside him, welcoming warmth beating against his face as he stepped out into the morning gloom. He could hear Prince Aegon coming up behind him. After a moment he joined him by the fire. "The outriders?" From his shoulders, the black cloak with the three headed dragon stitched upon the back flapped about his ankles.

"It must be Richard," Myles agreed. "Returning with his scouting party."

The prince moved to the fire and showed his palms over the flames very much closer than Myles would have liked. "It is past time they returned." He had often led the scouting party from atop his great green beast as they waited in the Stoney Sept to keep both the Lannisters and the Baratheons in check from moving either South for King's Landing or linking up together with their allies in Riverrun. Every day they anticipated the attack to come but it proved false as neither army did much in terms after Aegon's victory in Stoney Sept. The longer they waited here, the faster their supplies drained.

In the first few days, the green dragon always stayed close to them since the Lannister presence was always lingering so close. He had feasted upon the dead who were slain in the battle, men from both armies. Good men who had fought beside him and died for the cause They believed in. They should have been given a proper burial, he thought as he remembered the beast gorging on the corpses. But there was no telling that to the dragon. When the corpses ran dry, he sent his men to round up the sheep they could find from the lands and settlings around Stoney Sept to feed the dragon. The beast had an appetite as large as itself. No matter how much food found for him, he needed more. When Myles told the prince of his concerns about the supplies running dry if they kept feeding the dragon, Aegon Targaryen had set his dragon free to hunt for himself, albeit unenthusiastically. The prince didn't feel so safe parted from his dragon. "See that there are here as soon as they can. I'd want to meet Ser Richard at once."

"I'll bring him, my prince." The men who had gone to scout ahead had been expected days ago. When they had not appeared, the men had begun to wonder and tales started spreading around the town like wildfire. Myles had heard gloomy mutterings around the cookfires, and Aegon's lords of Narrow Sea sworn to Dragonstone wanted him to end the rebellion by striking deep at Riverrun and cutting off the head of the wolf. For a moment Myles had feared that the prince would be quick to listen to them and take the plan for himself in order to go in search for the quest for glory. The Prince of Dragonstone was young, and young knights were more gallant than wise. If he had left the strong position he had taken in Stoney Sept to march for Riverrun, he would leave King's Landing undefended for the Lannister army so close. And if he had gone chasing after the Lannisters, he would have left the way open for an attack from the north where the spearhead of the great alliance of Jon Arryn and Andrew Stark and Hoster Tully were aimed right at the heart of King's Landing.

Lord Gyles Rosby was all for retreating to King's Landing as soon as possible. Young Lord Velaryon wanted to push off the lingering Lannister threat back to Casterly Rock or destroy them to last man. And Ser Balman Byrch would strike for Riverrun, hoping to flush out or burn the Dragonslayer where he and his men had encamped. "The Stark boy would never expect it," Ser Balman had declared. "We can destroy the Lannister host, swing past the Riverlands through the Gold road and attack where he least expects us. We can take him unawares and cut his host to ribbons before he knows we are on him."

"The numbers would be greatly against us," Ser Boros Blount had objected. "Lord Tywin still has large host around him. Many thousands. Even if we managed to get past him, the Lannisters would bleed us for every step of the way. And King Andrew himself has a larger host with him in Riverrun."

"We have a dragon to defend us all along the way," said Ser Balman confidently.

"We cannot leave Stoney Sept," warned Lord Hubard Rambton. "Lord Robert is marching up the Kingsroard. If we leave this position, we will not be able to defend King's Landing should the Stormlords chooses to attack the city."

Or stop Lord Robert from attacking us in the rear while we are engaging the Lannisters. That would be the worst blow of them all. He never knew how they had found themselves penned up in that place surrounded in the all sides by enemies. But somehow the rebels had forced them to stay there at least until Jon comes with reinforcements from the east or Lord Mace or Prince Oberyn from the south.

"There has been no word of the Baratheons yet, Lord Rambton," Ser Balman Byrch insisted. "If we sweep over the Stark boy and his allies in Riverrun and scatter them around, then the war is good as done. Then the Baratheons will run howling back to their homes."

They had argued for many hours, and reached no agreement. Finally Prince Aegon put an end to it when he said that he would send out scouts to determine the position of the surrounding armies and they would then move accordingly. Rhaegar's son was too stubborn like his mother to retreat, but neither would he rush headlong up to Riverrun, seeking battle. In the end, nothing had been decided but to wait a few more days for the reinforcements to arrive from King's Landing, and talk again after the scouts bring news of the position of the surrounding foes.

Myles had been relieved when the Prince handed the matter wisely, not giving up to the swaying words of the bannermen. The boy was cautious even with the mighty dragon behind him.

Now that the scouts had come, their arrival meant that the decision could be delayed no longer. Myles was glad of that much, at least. They had stayed here idly for too long, and it might set the spirits of men high to engage in any action.

He found Lord Damon Darry and his youngest brother Ser Raymun at the fire. Ser Garse Goodbrook was complaining to them about how difficult it was for him to sleep when people insisted on blowing horns in the woods. Myles gave him a pat on the back and said that was the last thing he should worry about by now. He gave the orders to his men to round up the supplies they have got and to get the lords ready for another meeting that Prince Aegon had planned to convene soon.

Ben, the captain at guards of the Mooton forces under Myles came puffing up as he crossed the camp. Beneath the long black curls of hair atop his head, his face was lined around the corners of the mouth and along his forehead. "I heard the horn. Should we be expecting any battle, Ser?"

"It's only the men from the scouting party." Even the men were growing restless with all the waiting, Myles thought. It was all the better that they hadn't yet faced any army in the battle after they broke the Lannisters and chased them away. Now with the long waiting after the battle all of them had gone weary of taking rest. "You had best stay prepare on any case though. We might be marching again soon enough."

He found some guards reinforcing the walls of the holdfast beneath the sept with the wood and iron they could find from the town to patch up the breaches that had been caused away by the dragonfire. At the ringwall he had ordered his men to build around the stout holdfast below the hill upon which the Sept sat, he found his friend returning back with his company of outriders. Richard led them across the market square and they began wending their way up the slope to the Sept. His friend had traded his armour for leather and fur which were well suited to the duties of scouting. Myles was surprised to see some of them were riding two to a horse. They had left with each on their own horses though. When he looked more closely, it was plain that some of them were wounded and some bounded at the wrists behind their backs. There has been trouble on the way. He knew that they were prisoners the instant he saw them.

Richard brought his party to a halt and pulled the reigns of his horse in front of Myles. His men were all getting down behind him, along with the prisoners. They were dressed with fine chainmail beneath the surcoat bearing the Lannister lion on their chest, with some if them even dressed in polished steel and lion crested helms. Heavy beards matted with blood and mud alike covered the hard lean faces.

Myles reached his friend getting the prisoners all rounded up before the holdfast. "Lannister soldiers?" he asked his friend.

"Scouts," Richard said, patting the neck of his horse. "Thought they could outrun us to get back to Lord Tywin. But we never gave them the chance." He swung down from his saddle.

Thank the gods for it. Who knows how much did they actually know about? The lesser the Lannisters know about what they are upto, the better. "Get the men held up in the cells of the holdfast," Myles instructed. "We would have to question them."

"We already did," Richard said, running his hand through his hair. "Though I suppose we could still wring out a couple of things or more out of their mouths."

Myles nodded. "The Prince would like to see you at once. I hope you have some news that he hopes to hear."

"What? Now?" Richard rolled his eyes and scoffed.

"Aye," Myles replied.

His friend looked at him as if he wanted to argue, but he then sighed in defeat. "Alright," he said. "My men are hungry, and the horses require tending."

"The grooms and the townsfolk will take care of that."

Richard gave his horse into the care of one of his scouts and followed. "What took you so long? We were worried that something had befallen you?"

"I am not going to my grave so damn young." Richard smiled.

"Well, no one is too young to die," Myles said. "What were you doing anyway?"

"I had to pick up after the trail the Mountain had left when he ran away from here," his friend said. "It was no easy thing. And the smallfolk, they have four rumours and a single truth for every five words they speak." He shook his head. "One day the Lannisters are with the Born King in Riverrun and the next they are in the South with the Baratheons. It was a bloody nightmare to go scouting after some army."

As they climbed the stairs to the Sept, Myles slowed down his quick strides so Richard could keep up with him, tired with the long journey and the fighting. "Did you at least find anything?"

"Aye. And more than enough than you would have expected," Richard glanced behind. "Where is the dragon? We might need it soon enough."

"Aegon sent it off to hunt. He would be back soon."

"The victory at Stoney Sept had damaged the Lannisters more than we had thought," Richard said. "It seems as it the Mountain that Rides lays in his death bed from the injuries Aegon and his dragon had dealt him. The monstrosity's death will no doubt spread doubt and dissent and fear into the hearts of the Lannisters."

Myles was surprised to hear that. The last he remembered of Gregor Clegane was when he had crossed swords with him in the Battle of the Burning Sept. But it had came to a sudden like like the battle itself when Prince Aegon arrived upon his dragon, Rhaegal. If the Mountain had succumbed to the dragonfire for real, then they was more than a good news for them.

They found the cooks frying a rasher of bacon and boiling a dozen eggs in a kettle over the cookfire for Prince Aegon. The Prince of Dragonstone had taken his quarters in the barely defended Sept while graciously handing the strong holdfast for the noble Lords and knights accompanying him. He sat in his wood-and-leather camp chair the septon had used before his death. "I had begun to fear for you, Ser. Did you meet with trouble?"

"We met with some of the Lannister outriders, Your grace. Tywin Lannister had sent him to scout on our positions and the defences of the town, and we chanced upon the while they were returning back to their camp." Richard pulled his gloves off. "They will bring no word back to Lord Tywin though. We hunted down all of them, and took some for questioning. They would give the answers we need the most."

"Did you lose anyone?"

"A couple of our own men died. A dozen were wounded. A third as many as the foe. One of the captive says he would tell us everything he knows if we could promise him to do him or his son no harm."

"Nicely done, Ser," the Prince said certainly happy with the news Richard brought. "We shall honour the promise if he is willing to work with us. I suppose you are tired and hungry. The servants will fetch you a horn of ale. Or would you prefer hot spiced wine?"

"The wine will suffice," Richard said, stroking his abdomen over his jerkin. "An egg and a bite of bacon as well. I am starving."

"As you wish." Aegon Targaryen lifted his hand to call a servant and sent him off with the orders to bring food to his table.

A serving girl from the inn stood over the kettle by the cook fire swishing the eggs about with a spoon. "Has there been any word from the south?" Richard asked.

"Nothing that would be of any concern to us," Aegon said. "Prince Oberyn is sending us a strong contingent of Dornish spears to add to our numbers. Though I can't say when they would arrive. And the scouts we sent to look for the Baratheons returned back with nothing worth of hearing."

"And Andrew Stark sits within the halls of Riverrun still," Richard said. "No one knows what the boy is planning."

"Could we goad him into coming out of the castle to face us in battle?" Aegon asked leaning into the table from his chair.

"Maybe," Myles said, wondering. "Andrew Stark is young and his men revere him like a god amongst mortals. He might even be rash enough to take up the field to save that face of his. But Jon Arryn, he would advice him against it."

Restless, the Prince clasped his hands together on the table, flexing them together. "And it would only turn worse if Tywin Lannister joins them as well," he said, tugging his cloak beneath his chin. "Not to mention, Lord Baratheon as well."

He could hear the voices outside the tent, punctuated by the neighing of the horse and the squawk of ravens. At least they had managed to capture the scouts that the spied on them, that's good. If Lord Tywin had learned of everything the scouts had spied it might have prove so grave a mistake. And the Mountain lay dead as well, the false knight who took up arms against the man who had given him his spurs. Yet he could not find it in himself to be glad with the minor victory. With the grave silence etched upon the prince's face, he suspected that Aegon was not so thrilled about it as well.

Myles had hoped that the arrival of the outriders would lift the spirits in the camp. He has already heard talks of some men in low voices around the embers of a fire remarking how the King was losing the war. If the men doubted in the cause, that would be our undoing. Myles knew that better than anyone.

He did not think much of the tale anyway though. Most of the men fighting in their army today were peasants only a fortnight ago. It was just empty talk of the peasants, he told himself. Anyone in their place would be afraid to wield a sword or spear and to fight in a battle when they were living the life of a peasant only weeks before. Half the men had traded plowshares for sword and farmlands for battlefields. And it was hard waiting here, in this town where the last battle had been fought, wondering what the morrow might bring. The unseen enemy is always the most fearsome.

The servants returned with their plates of food then. The Prince poured them wine from his pitcher and set it on the table. The servant cut three thick slices off a stale round of oat bread, stacked them on a wooden platter, covered them with bacon and bacon drippings, and filled a bowl with hard-cooked eggs. They placed one plate in front of him and the smell of the food made him hungry.

"We cannot stay here doing nothing for so long." The Prince of Dragonstone sat straight on the leather chair of the septon provided to him by the townsfolk. Candlelight flickered against the hard flat planes of his cheeks as he spoke and the grey eyes of his was almost black. "The men would see that indecisiveness for weakness." he continued. "We have to move against the rebels soon enough."

Richard took a long gulp of his wine. "Our captive claims that, Lord Tywin is hoping to find another chance to strike us hard. He also said that despite the losses taken in the battle he has more strength than we would have dreamed. Or so he claimed. I will not swear as to the truth of it. Most likely the man is telling us tales to make us keep him and his son alive."

"True or false, the Lannisters must be dealt with," Myles said as he served himself some bacon from the platter between them. "Sooner rather than later."

"And Andrew Stark as well," Aegon said. "There is no peace to be had while he lives."

Myles and Richard looked at each other for a moment, but Prince Aegon continued with his meal casually. "We prepare for battle once Rhaegal returns. If Tywin Lannister thinks he could oust us from here, I will make another burning septry for him to remember us by."