Chapter Four: Purpose

When Duncan woke up, he felt something crusty covering the palm of his hand. At first as he groaned himself awake with his joints popping as he stretched, he wondered if he had accidentally slept with his hand in a jar of honey. But when he opened his hand up, he saw a large cut across his palm crusted over with blood and dirt. He hissed when he saw the state of his hand. He had forgotten to clean it out after the battle, and that meant it could become tainted. His Uncle told him all about the taint that wounds can get if they weren't treated properly. Duncan really didn't want to lose his hand because of his inability to keep it together, so he did what he needed to do by standing up and finding the nearest cleanest bucket of water he could find in the hovel.

As he washed his hand's wound out, making sure to clean off the dried blood and to get into the wound itself, Duncan thought about what happened yesterday. Yesterday he killed people. People who were cruel bandits that raped women and killed children, but still people. He remembered the spray of blood on his face, the smell of urine and feces as the dead released what their bowels contained, and watched as their lives drained from their eyes alongside the blood that pooled to the ground. He remembered how he killed his first man, how he had watched that volunteer be pinned to the wall due to the bandit's spear before ramming his sword into the man's throat to avenge his ally. He wouldn't have had to do such a thing had someone like the Crown had hunted down the bandits seeing how they were a threat to this village. Was a village's problem not worth the attention of at least some servant of King Robert's court to take care of? Wasn't it the Crown's responsibility to protect the smallfolk alongside the eight Wardens?

Duncan just sighed as he finished cleaning his wound out, raising it out of the misty red water to examine it. It seemed to be okay as there was nothing alarmingly green or black to worry about. Just red blood and pink flesh for his eyes to see. All he needed now was cloth, which he found such a colored rag in one of Ragnar's cabinets.

Ragnar… Duncan still couldn't believe his friend was now dead. Sure he knew him for about eight days, but he still knew him. He ate with him, drank with him, talked to him, and slept near him. He had come to know what Ragnar liked to drink, apple ale, and how he liked his bread, crispy on the outside but soft on the inside. The young man wondered if it was useless to grieve over a man he had come to know well in such a short time. Did he have the right to cry over someone that liked apple ale and crispy yet soft bread?

Duncan grunted as he ripped the extra bit of rag off before tying his bandage tight. He watched as a small dot of red appeared over the top of his wound as he clenched and unclenched his hand to make sure it could still work. It hurt when he clenched his hand too hard, but he could still clench it which meant he could still use it! That's good. He wasn't useless yet, though the people in the village may deem him to be so.

As if on cue, the Westford boy turned to the sound of someone knocking on hut's door. The young man blinked as he wondered who exactly could be knocking at the hovel's door, especially after something like what happened yesterday. He was spruned into movement at the second set of knocks, walking over to the door and opening it to see who was on the other side.

"Hey. Pack up. You're getting kicked out of the village." That was the first thing Duncan heard Hof as he stood on the other side of the doorway. Duncan was surprised about many things, to say the least. First was that Hof seemed to be calm despite losing his friends and having to kill other men that wanted to kill him. Second was that Duncan was getting kicked out of the village that he saved! Were they not thankful in the slightest for him saving their village, despite the losses? Third and lastly, Duncan finally felt hungry. He finally wanted to eat something, something like stew. Not a Bowl of Brown. Something with more variety this time around as eating the same thing everyday is just too… Depressing really.

"What do you mean I'm being kicked out?" The young man asked, hanging on the door's handle as he looked at the supposed Lannister before him.

"The Elders made a decision last night. All who fought in the battle are banished from the village, never to return for ten whole years! Something about a 'pacifist clause' being in their old records that we have violated. So I will be joining you for a while, along with the eight others that survived! Well seven actually. One of the wounded died last night after succumbing to their wounds." Duncan felt his jaw drop when he heard Hof's explanation. They were all being banished?! What kind of backward logic was that? They saved that village from being under those bandit's tyranny, and even saved their lives by winning the battle. How could they receive such disrespect after pouring their sweat and blood into their work?!

"I imagine you're thinking 'That is dishonorable and I should confront them', right?"

"Y-Yeah…"

"Don't. You can't change the minds of the fearful unless you have enough armed men, and we certainly don't have enough with Ragnar dead. He had the clout to get people on his side, and he is now dead so we can't fight back now. Best we can do is just leave and never return to such a dumb place!" There was wisdom in Hof's words, much to Duncan's displeasure. He wanted them to avenge the dishonor placed upon the young man after doing so much for them. Damn their politics! They should be happy they are no longer under the bandit's control, and they most certainly should be at least thankful in some way to those who fought for them.

But, Duncan imagined he wasn't going to get that with how Hof worded things. Why couldn't things just be simple for the Westford boy? Whatever the case may be, Duncan nodded at Hof and said "I'll grab my stuff. See you at the gate?"

"We're already there. We figured we could caravan with you seeing how you're the sellsword after all! Probably heading to your next job or something, which could be a new place for us to settle in. Somewhere better than this place anyway…" Hof replied as he turned away and began to head towards the caravan's location. As for Duncan, he closed the door behind him and swiftly began to collect his items. As he did so, he also took some of Ragnar's items after some thought. No one will probably miss or need what Ragnar had, unlike Duncan. So the young man could just take them as he would probably have need of them. He especially needed any food that he could use, plus those silver Stags that were promised. Ragnar said they were under his bed, so Duncan didn't have to search hard to find them.

Duncan eventually left the hovel, travel sack in his right hand while a hunk of bread was in his left hand. He had to eat something for the journey ahead, and why not one of Ragnar's pieces of bread? He will most certainly not eat after his death!

Though… What would have happened if Ragnar hadn't died?

The group of villagers, including Duncan Westford and Hof, departed the village without much fanfare. One of the banished men's families had come to see him off, and Duncan could only feel anger while he watched the man's mother sob into his arms as she desperately begged him not to go. But he had to, much to his own displeasure, and now the seven men were marching alongside the Kingsroad with Duncan and Hof leading the pack. There next destination, some new village hopefully nearby.

The group traveled in silence, especially Duncan and Hof as they marched at the head of the caravan of villagers. As they marched, the Westford boy could feel Hof examine him as they walked side by side. Eventually, Hof broke the silence after two hours of marching by saying "I never really looked at you before, but what is with the two heraldies? You a noble of two houses or something, one of which is dead!"

"What do you mean 'one of which is dead'? And… No. I am not a noble in the slightest. At least, I don't think so anyways." Duncan answered, earning a strange look from the supposed Lannister. The look was almost saying that Hof didn't believe what the Westford boy had just said!

"I mean your scarf, the one with the with black dog's head in a blue field. That's House Westford heraldry and they used to be bannermen to Tywin Lannister before he purged them just a few weeks after Robert's Rebellion was over." Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing. There was no way that the house Hof was talking about was the very same house his Uncle Mors was a part of, nor was he! Duncan only really became a Westford after asking Mors if they had last names, which he answered with "Westford". There is no way that his Uncle was once under Tywin's control!

"What do you mean?"

"Really? I thought you would have heard about it seeing how you wear the heraldry… In any case, what I said was true. Sure it isn't as famous as the 'Rains of Castamere', but those born of the Westerlands must know that no house is safe from disobeying House Lannister, especially Tywin Lannister himself. Apparently during the Sack of King's Landing Tywin ordered the head of House Westford, one Mors Westford, to do something in the Red Keep. Mors straight up refused to do it, and he refused right in front of Tywin while he was with his commanders as well! For that, Tywin purged his house. From what the rumors say, Mors ran to take the Black while his wife and daughter disappeared." Hof explained, stating everything he said as if it was fact. Duncan couldn't believe what he was hearing even more when he heard his Uncle's name be dropped. His Uncle once served under Tywin Lannister, and refused to do his bidding right to his face?! That was something too insane to be believed in the young man's eyes.

But, what also caught his attention was how Hof said "those born of the Westerlands". That meant Hof was a Lannister! To which, Duncan said "So you are a Lannister… I thought you said you weren't."

"I never said I wasn't. I just hate that term being used to label all of those born in that region. The proper term is Westerlanders, not Lannisters! We are not all associated with the golden lions, though we may be their bannermen." Hof objected, obviously unhappy with being called a Lannister. Did that mean he didn't like Tywin and his family, or that he prefered the proper term to be used? Whatever the case was, Hof continued to speak. "As for the heraldry on your shield, the broken sword in a red field, that is the heraldry of House Sarwyck; another bannerman of House Lannister. They are still alive and kicking, though they are pretty much dying as there is only one real member left after the scandal that happened in the Red Keep a few years after Robert's Rebellion. Don't know what happened, but apparently there was a dead man sitting on the Iron Throne that had ties to the Sarwyck house that caused the Queen to become rather mad and in turn Tywin due to the loss of prestige with having his bannermen act crazy."

Duncan was rather interested in House Sarwyck's case. What was that all about, and why did his Uncle have a shield that had their heraldry on it? Was he friends with one of the nobles of that family? Then again, Duncan had the whole mess to figure out with his Uncle supposedly having been one of the Lannister's bannermen and that he had refused the head lion's command right in front of him. What exactly was his Uncle's past?!

What was the man that the young man knew as Mors Westford?

It was evening when they reached the next village, one that welcomed them after they told their story. All but three of the villagers, not including Hof, settled in the new village in an abandoned house they had in the hovel. As Duncan tried to find some kind inn to settle down with, not really caring what Hof and the other villagers did; he had his attention drawn to the village crier. He figured his might as well get some news about Westeros so he could figure out what the next destination was in mind.

It didn't take long before Duncan learned about something rather interesting. The Hand of the King, a person called Jon Arryn, had recently died and that the King was going to appoint a new Hand in the coming months. The crowd listening to the news was abuzz with rumors, rumors of lions and stags. The Westford boy didn't know exactly what was going on, but he knew that Westeros was about to change with the amount of energy that was in the crowd.

"So… The Hand finally kicked the bucket, huh?" Duncan turned around to look at Hof, looking at the town crier alongside the three other villagers that didn't decide to settle down in the village. "I imagine that King Robert is going to appoint that Eddard Stark in the North if their friendship lasted after the war. From what the legends say about their friendship, then it is pretty much certain. The only thing that worries me is how the Lannisters will take the Starks in their home territory."

"Really? Do you think that there might be trouble ahead for everyone when they finally meet?" Duncan asked the Westerlander, earning a nod and a glance from Hof.

"I think so, and I got to ask you something. What do you plan on doing if Westeros turns bloody once again?" Duncan hadn't really thought about the chance of Westeros turning into some chaotic wasteland like the Free Cities according to his Uncle Mors. What would he do if everything suddenly breaks down and he had to fight for his survival even more than he already has to?

What would happen to those who can't fight like him…?

"I guess I would just go around and help out those who need help. If all of the nobles are too busy to do their duties, then I'll just do it for them. Someone has to so why not me?" Duncan answered after a few moments of silent thinking, shrugging as he spoke. He had nothing to really drive him in life as he had no real goals. No real dreams to drive towards. So why not help others get their dreams, whether it be being freed from some bandits terrorizing them or just being able to learn how to swing a sword? Maybe it will be something that his Uncle Mors could be proud of him…

"Really…? Well then, that is a rather stupid thing to do all by yourself. Which makes my next question more important. Have you ever planned on joining a group of some kind?" Hof asked, stroking his chin as Duncan eventually nodded his head. "In that case, why don't we make a group of some kind? We've fought together and we don't really have any home to go to now. So why not become sellswords that help the poor and peasants? What's the worst that could happen anyways?!"

Duncan didn't expect Hof's question, nor the agreements coming from the other three villagers. He didn't expect that Hof and the others would be willing to journey with the Westford boy after the mess that was the battle yesterday. The young man's plan had failed and they lost several men as a result! Had it not been for him, then Ragnar could have been alive and they would still be in their village. Why wish to join someone like Duncan?

That was the past, however. The Westford boy had to look to the present and then the future. He couldn't worry about what he had done, only what others have done and what they could do further. And for Hof and those villagers, they could do some more good if Duncan was willing to let them join him on his new found quest to help those who needed it. Why cast away people who wanted to do some good in their lives?

"Alright. Let's do some good. Does that sound good?"

"Of course, Duncan! Let's go talk with the village mayor's and see if we can start today. Shall you lead the way?"

"I can. Just be sure to follow close behind, Hof."