Chapter Six: Companionship
When Dyra announced her "recruitment" into Duncan's band, let it be safely said that Hof was rather not pleased by the development. Rather, he went into a fit of as he pulled forth many reasons why the young woman couldn't simply "join" their band of merry men. The first reason was that she was a woman, plain and simple. Women are the more fragile sex according to Westeros, especially Southern, customs and it would simply be pure insanity to have one ride into battle among men. She did not have a dragon like the famous Warrior-Queens of old, so there was no way she could reasonably be able to defeat a single man in combat. If she was from Bear Island in the North, this point would be moot but she wasn't. She was a simple villager from some hamlet resting on the borders between the Riverlands and the Crownlands.
The second reason was that she would be traveling with a band composed entirely of men, men who had needs from time to time that only a woman could fulfill. Hof was not ready to face the potential prospect and unnecessary duty of keeping lonely and lustful men away from Dyra's tent so they could have a special night that Dyra may not wish to have. Furthermore, what would happen if one special night resulted in a pregnancy? There was no way a woman burdened with the life of a child will be able to fight or even be able to keep pace with the band of warriors. It was simple suicide, and Hof was not going to have such a woman die in such a manner.
The third reason was that she clearly didn't know how to fight properly. Most of the men knew the basics of combat, which allowed them to have a chance at winning in battle. They also had the lifestyles and training to give them the strength and bodies fit to fight. Dyra, on the other hand, did not have such an upbringing that could give her a chance in combat. Seven hells, Hof didn't even believe she knew how to use a spear or sword properly! She knew how to use a knife, well if you count wild stabbing and slashing as a quality ability, and she did give Duncan some wounds with her nails as well. But there was no way she would be able to survive a single duel with her current skill level.
There were other reasons, of course, some including how she may be prone to cannibalism with her association with the cannibals they killed earlier, how she may try to kill the band for murdering her lover and friends, and the fact that they didn't even know she had been kidnapped or not! The only things they did know about her was that she used to live in a cannibal hamlet, she has a ferocious attitude, and her name was Dyra. That is all they knew about her, and Hof wasn't going to let some woman they barely know about, and was the target of their latest job, just join the band because she said so. He made sure to at least pass some kind of background check on the men he recruited. Sure he slipped up with that rapist, but for the most part their band consisted of decent fellows. It made absolutely no sense to let such an unknown factor join them!
As for Duncan, honor dictated that Dyra should join their band. Duncan, honestly, did not feel much about killing Dyra's love and her friends. He was sad to cut those that stood against him down, and he felt he had dishonored himself and his band when it was revealed that they had been tricked by the elder and one of their men had raped Dyra's young friend. That dishonor had been wiped clean, however, when they helped Dyra take her revenge against the elder and by ending her friend's own dishonor. Now, to wipe away the dishonor fully; she would join their band as she has no real future left and they were her only hope for a decent and honorable life in some ways. He still felt bad about killing those she treasured, but did not grieve over them. He barely knew them! Why should he grieve over people he doesn't know and were not close to him?
So Duncan said to let her join, which Hof surprisingly refused to let happen. Hof didn't really object to their band's leader all that much. For the most part, they agreed on most things and went along well with relations. This was pretty much the first major dispute the two had, which resulted in a yelling match of words that nearly broke into a fistfight after thirty minutes of screaming. They would get over it by the day's end after some of the men had them indulge in a bit too much ale, which would result in them singing a dumb shanty they made up on the spot.
So the final deciding factor for Dyra either being a part of or being refused out of the band was the stoic archer, Stoin. He was a simple man when it came to what he wanted. He asked if she could cook as they had no real cook, which she said she could cook several alright meals that can feed a decently sized group. She had been taught by it from a combination from her life in the cannibal village, and while with her lover and her friends. That had Stoin give her the go ahead to join Duncan's band, much to Hof's displeasure.
As such, the band of eleven men, and one woman, returned to their days of aiding the peasantry through various jobs paid with silver Stags. This went on for another two weeks, during which many jobs were done by a band of men led by Duncan Westford. Such jobs included escorting a group of merchants to the city of Saltpans, helping a joint coalition of villages herd a combined set of cattle to Maidenpool, stand watch over a village as they conducted the nameday feast of their mayor, and over various jobs that paid in various amounts of silver Stags.
During this time, the company's numbers grew to twenty-five bodies along with two carts to carry their goods in. Twenty-two of them were men while the remaining three were women. Unlike Dyra, the two women who joined the band were tavern whores. Hof had no trouble with them as he vetted them and set down rules for them to follow, as he did with all who he recruited. They have to cook, clean, and learn how to fight in some manner as all who joined the band; but they were mainly there just to keep the urges of the men sated. Hof even had the whores charge their "customers" as well as give them the set wage everyone in the band got. It was something Hof put in place to have it cost the men to indulge in their urge, some manner of discipling the men into a more proper soldier in a way. Duncan didn't understand it much when Hof explained it to him, but if it worked then there was no need to tamper with such a system!
Dyra did not partake in her female comrades' trade. She helped cook and clean, like everyone in the band did in some way, but she mainly wished to be on the front lines to fight with the men. She didn't know how to, however, so she decided to enlist the teaching of Duncan himself! The Westford boy, at first, was opposed to it as he hadn't really learned in a way that he could comfortably teach to their feisty female warrior. However, after many threats and allusions that he was acting dishonorable; Duncan agreed to train Dyra in the arts of martial warfare.
Which leads to the current day where the band is camping beside a stream, having just finished a job of helping set the foundations of a sept for a decent prize of one hundred Stags and a week's worth of food.
Duncan wasn't used to the noise yet, if he was being honest. He still remembered how silent it had been with just five men, and with twelve. But with twenty-five people now in his company, sound was more commonplace than silence was these days. Most days he would wake up to the sound of either loud conversation, some item making a noise as someone used it, and to the rare sounds of sex as one of the men indulged in one of the two camp whores. They had tried to seduce Duncan a few days after they had joined the group, probably trying to curry favor with their new leader in some way. But their attempts were swiftly cut off by Hof, of all people. The young man remembered how Duncan refused to be bedded before he was married, and Hof would go by the young boy's personal desires. The Westford boy even asked the Westerlander, to which he simply got a semi-cryptic reply of "All people want power. Some use swords to gain it, while others use their genitals." Duncan understood the message behind it, but he didn't really get a definitive answer on why Hof had protected the young man.
Now though, Duncan was wide awake and ready to show Dyra how to become a warrior; just like how his Uncle Mors had done so. His Uncle was a harsh teacher when it came to the art of martial warfare. But that harshness was often overshadowed by how skilled and flawless Mors Westford had been when he fought. Duncan hadn't been able to beat his Uncle ever since he started his training, and he honestly believed that he would never had been able to until the old man couldn't even get out of bed due to his age! That was how powerful Mors Westford was, which made Duncan even more sad as he wondered how many of the Black Men had to be there in order to slay his Uncle.
The Westford boy stood in a small area of grass near the camp, holding two carved blocks of wood. They had been fashioned into some sort of club/sword hybrids, thanks to Stoin the stoic archer, and would be the main instruments for battle today. The young man would have to thank the man later as this was quality work. Maybe he had a history in woodworking? Who knew about the mysterious man… Anyways; he had his armor on, and he was somewhat eager to see Dyra's appearance. During their visit to Maidenpool, the young woman bought herself a set of armor that she would wear into combat until something better came into her hands. She had yet to wear it as they had not done any real dangerous missions that would require actual battle. But today, she would get her first taste of what combat will be like so she must wear her armor.
Eventually, Dyra appeared in the clearing in her attire of armor. It was a simple common soldiers outfit, similar to many of the sets of armor found in the band at the moment. It was a brown gambeson with padded leggings, which either went with a helmet of some kind or without. Dyra had chosen to have a helmet, wearing a sallet without a visor like those of the common foot soldiers of the Starks. In Duncan's humble opinion, she looked rather nice! She will be able to survive a deathblow or two against the common cutthroat.
"Are you ready to begin?" Duncan asked, tossing one of the wooden practice weapons over to Dyra for her to catch. The young man was preparing himself slightly in his mind at what he had to do. He didn't want to be as harsh as his Uncle Mors was, but he knew no other way. If Dyra wanted to learn now, then she would learn with what the young man was able to teach.
"Of course I am! I reckon I'm going to be better than ya by the end of this year." Dyra confidently answered, catching the wooden weapon with ease and swiftly getting into a battle stance. A very poor battle stance but a stance all the same. Duncan stood there in confusion for a bit, looking at the young woman before him, before realizing that she did not know what she was doing. She was holding her weapon on its "bladed end" instead of the "handle". There was no real difference in all honesty, one end being thicker than the other, but it would make sense in battle if she ever decided to carry a bladed weapon that wasn't a knife.
"You're holding your weapon incorrectly. Turn it around, and then we can begin. The first person to three landed 'kill blows' wins the round. Let us begin…" The young man took a stance as he watched Dyra grumble before turning her wooden club/sword around to hold it properly. Once done so, the sparring duel officially began as the two began to circle each other. Dyra struck first, wildly swinging at Duncan's torso in an attempt to get the first "killing blow".
Duncan easily blocked the attack with a solid swing of his own weapon as he marched forward, shoving his shoulder into the young woman. That threw her off balance as she tried to regain in a stumble, which the Westford boy took advantage of to land two "kill blows" on her torso instead of the intended one on his. Dyra recovered and tried to strike Duncan once more, only to have her weapon smacked out of her hand and thrown to the ground with a smack of his hand across her face. He took the final "killing blow" by thrusting his weapon onto her helmet, ending the round in a flawless victory for Duncan Westford.
"Y-Ya cheated!" Dyra mumbled as he head was kept to the ground by Duncan's weapon, only to let up once Duncan took his position away from the young woman.
Duncan took his battle stance once more, waiting for the young woman to get up and take her position as well. As he waited, he said "You were too predictable and too easy to get off balance. Balance is everything in combat, as is unpredictability. If you stumble, you will die. If you are too predictable, you will die. If you do not learn this, you will die." The young man spoke as if this was something he had been born with. Really, it was just years of it being repeated to him by his Uncle. His Uncle was the greatest fighter he ever knew, so Duncan believed that his words were true.
Eventually, Dyra stood back up and re-took her battle stance against the young Westford boy. They once again circled each other before Duncan, this time, took the first step with a swift stab at the young woman's throat. Dyra ducked down and stabbed back, knowing that there was no way that Duncan could block her attack. She was, sadly, proven wrong as the young man used his free hand to grab Dyra's weapon and rip it out of her hands. He then used it to smack her across the face, sending her back down onto the ground once more before whacking her two more times to win him the match.
"Combat may seem honorable, but it never is when your life is on the line. All will do everything they can to win the deadly struggle, which will include everything from punching someone in their member to summoning shadows to fight for them." Duncan parroted the same words that Mors had told Duncan when the man had punched the young boy in the face, knocking out the last baby teeth the Westford boy still had back then, during one of their spars. Duncan didn't really understand about the latter example his Uncle provided in all honest. It sounded too fantastical to be a part of reality, much less combat itself. But Mors seemed rather keen on that example, so the Westford boy remembered it well.
Duncan dropped Dyra's weapon beside her, stepping back to take his battle stance once more. Once more, the young woman stood back up with fresh bruises and took her poor battle stance as well. And then they fought, with Duncan winning once more. Duncan would continue to win without a single hit upon his person for the next hour, always having Dyra thrown down to the ground with fresh bruises on her person every single time.
But everytime she stood back up, she got a little bit better from what Duncan noticed. Slowly but surely Dyra learned from her mistakes and kept fighting with stoic determination that Duncan couldn't help but admire. She didn't know when to give up, and that made Duncan like her despite how annoying it can be at times. She sort of reminded him of a faithful dog, if that was a good thing to compare a woman to? He honestly didn't know anything better as his Uncle's dog was an amazing beast that was loyal to the old man till the bitter end.
On their final duel before Duncan had to leave to go to discuss certain things with Hof, things went very differently from all the other duels. Dyra had instigated the exchange of blows first with a thrust, which Duncan had cautiously blocked. They then exchanged a flurry of blows, wood slamming against each other loudly, as they swayed back and forth in the tide of battle. Eventually, Dyra pulled back and thrusted once more to which Duncan went to block. However, the young woman's attack was a feint that left the Westford boy wide open to a well-deserved blow across his spine. Such a blow was delivered, giving Dyra her first "killing blow" out of the entire hour of training.
Duncan suddenly tackled Dyra when this happened, growling out in anger as he slammed both of them onto the ground below with a thud; both of them dropping their weapons in the process along with the young woman losing her helmet. The Westford boy raised his fist up to punch the young woman in the face while holding her down by grabbing her throat, before swiftly realizing that this probably wasn't the best idea. That, and maybe it was time to stop before someone got truly hurt.
Breathing heavily, the two looked at each other while in the position before separating. Duncan stood up first before helping Dyra up next, the poor woman wobbling from all of the bruises she got from the training sessions she had just been put through. Duncan held on to her and gave her a tired smile as he spoke.
"I think you may be right, Dyra! Maybe you'll be as good as me by the year's end. Or maybe not… Who knows?" The Westford boy said, earning a tired chuckle from the young woman as she leaned heavily against the young man. It was pretty clear that she was barely awake as it was once all of the adrenaline from the combat went away, and from how heavy she was leaning on Duncan then she was going to need help walking as well!
"Come on… Let's get back to your tent, shall we?"
Duncan left Dyra's tent with sweat on his face, a fresh bruise on his back, and the desire to retire to his tent for a while to gather energy. However, he had to meet with Hof to discuss where the band would go next on its wandering journey for work and other important things like supplies and the budget. In all honesty, Duncan hated talking about the budget and inventory. He was never good with numbers and specifics. They were so boring compared to plotting their destination or what strategies they could employ should a battle come. Those were far more interesting, especially the latter one as Duncan could let his mind roam freely to figure out good strategies. Strategies that wouldn't fail like the one back then. He would not have another Ragnar dying on him.
He couldn't afford to lose Hof.
When he entered Hof's tent, he found a strange sight before him. The Westerlander appeared to be rather serious as he examined a small scroll of parchment in his hands. On a table next to him was a raven with a single white feather on its right wing, crowing softly as it sat there. Duncan didn't need to say a single question as Hof held out the parchment to the Westford boy to take.
"I'll tell the men. Best write out a reply soon before we earn his ire…" Hof said as he walked out of the tent, leaving Duncan all by himself with the crow. Interested in what made Hof so serious, the young man looked at the scroll of parchment and began to read. As he read the letters, he slowly felt dread build up on his shoulders at the contents of the scroll.
Duncan of House Westford,
I've heard much about you, young lord, as of late. It is not often that my little birds inform me of good men who do good deeds while other men pursue other ambitions. I do not believe you know me personally, but I must know that you know of me. Whatever the case is, I have a task for you that will aid Robert of the House Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm.
There is a man known as Kruik the Rat who holds information that may plunge the Seven Kingdoms of Westeros into civil war. As we both know, war is a terrible toll on the common people and it is rather dishonorable to let such a thing happen if one can prevent it. He is currently being held prisoner by a clan of bandits at an abandoned holdfast near Rosby. The lord of Rosby, Lord Gyles Rosby, will be sending a force to pacify the bandits in a fortnight according to my little birds. However, should his men come across Kruik, who will most certainly spill forth the information he knows; the knowledge revealed will send Westeros into civil war. I must beg of you to go and silence Kruik by any means necessary to preserve the peace that the Seven Kingdoms knows. If you accept the task and complete the task, then I will send a man to Rosby to award you with twenty gold Dragons for your work. If you refuse my humble request, then I am afraid your dishonorable action will cause thousands to die unnecessary deaths!
I patiently await a reply,
Varys, The Master of Whisperers.