The sharp tug on Rick's hand came again right when Rick drew his torch and flicked it on, shining it right into the sapphire eye. "Ow!" The eye snapped shut. Carl tripped and sat down heavily on the stone stairs, his forehead laced with beads of sweat. "Geez, dad. I don't have any more eyes to spare, y'know…" The boy yawned. "Can you... slow down a bit, please? My feet feel like they're made of lead..."
"Sure, we'll wait." Rick switched the torch off to save the battery. Batteries that could hold a charge were scarce these days. A few 'shake' flashlights existed, and Rick was sure Eugene meant to jerry-rig a few more of those whenever he got the time, but those were not brought out of Alexandria lest they be lost in unfamiliar lands.
"Do you think we'll get along with these people?" Carl asked in a weary voice.
Rick paused. The Brave Companions seemed friendly enough, but he did not miss the worried glances, the hushed whispers, though also the occasional snicker or two. Rick had seen those looks before. Vargo and his band were afraid of something. Was it their foes, or they thought this castle was haunted?
"I don't know. I think we can trust them for now, and the Westerosi probably aren't all bad people, but be always prepared. We're not safe, Carl. Come on." Rick pulled Carl to his feet, but the boy could barely remain standing on his own. "Lean on me." Rick wrapped his arm around Carl. Father and son continued making their way up the stairs. From behind, the footsteps grew louder and louder.
"Need a hand?" Jesus offered when the rest of Rick's group finally caught up. "Sorry, this was in bad taste. But gimme the boy. Faster this way when we all help him up."
After what seemed like an eternity, the group stumbled into a massive room rivalling Alexandria's community hall in size. Vargo was already there, lazily brushing away at a few cobwebs which evidently sprung up in humanity's extended absence. Even with their coats on, many of Rick's group could not help but shiver amidst the frosty cold.
"The Folar ith yourth for the night," Vargo offered before heading back down the stairs, leaving Rick and his followers alone until Urswyck dropped by with his annotated map. Two Alexandrians followed the 'maester' until he left the tower, then kept watch so that the group's meeting would not be overheard by unwanted ears.
Meanwhile, Rick and his group made themselves comfortable. Not an easy task, given the cold. The 'folar' may have been well-furnished, but dust was already beginning to pile up on the desk and benches. With a swift sweep of his good arm, Rick wiped the thick layer of dust off the desk and placed the map on top.
"Carl asleep?" He asked when Jesus approached.
Jesus nodded. "Out like a light."
By then the rest of Rick's inner circle were clustered around the table, jostling to get a good view of Urswyck's map. The faded piece of parchment was crammed so full of words that Rick nearly needed a magnifying glass to read it.
After a few minutes of silence, Rick finally finished reading the entire map. He cleared his throat - "As our luck has it, we're in the middle of a war zone. Alexandria is now on an island, but this is no guarantee of our safety. We need to ally with someone -"
"The Baratheons are out. They only hold this island -" Maggie circled her finger around a small island to the east labelled 'Dragonstone', then moved it further down the map. "- and the castle called Storm's End."
Dwight was the next to speak up. "We shouldn't side with the Ironborn either. I don't know if Vargo's lying when he says the Ironborn rape pillage and burn, but they're too far away to even make contact. We need to secure our borders as soon as possible."
"Sure," Maggie replied. "But if they were closer it wouldn't be the first time we allied with vicious idiots. After all, you Saviors might not be rapists like these ironborn, but you guys pillaged the Hilltop and burned Alexandria -"
"ENOUGH!" Rick's brought down his fist on the table. Several of his sleeping followers jolted awake. "I know you're still mourning Glenn, but Dwight isn't Negan, and the Saviors aren't our enemies anymore. They're just another community among us now."
"Who are 'we' anyway?" Michonne asked.
"The same answer I always gave. We're part of a network, helping each other with trade and security - "
"No, no, Rick I get that," Michonne interjected. "But what do we call ourselves when talking to the Westerosi? Americans? The USA has been gone for nearly half a decade. Alexandrians? What about the Hilltoppers, Kingdom-ers, Saviors, and Oceansiders? And how about our flag? Turning inwards, how are the communities run? If Ezekiel wants to war a Westerosi town, does he need Rick's permission? Can the Hilltop tax Sanctuary goods, or execute Negan if he somehow ends up there -"
"Woah there, you're speaking too fast. The rest of us weren't lawyers before the apocalypse," Jesus reminded Michonne. "Ask one question at a time please, so we at least have time to think and answer." Several of the leaders and lieutenants, the ones smart enough to bring pen and paper that is, furiously scribbled down Michonne's chainfire speech. The others tried the best they could to remember her questions. Not very successfully at that, Rick thought, judging from the number of blank faces.
Another silence.
Ezekiel finally broke the ice. "Most of our settlements used to be part of the City of Alexandria back in the old days. It wouldn't be a huge stretch to call ourselves Alexandrians, especially on this side of the lake. And with so many US flags lying around it would be a huge waste not to use them."
Maggie peered at the map again, closely examining the various house sigils. "What would the Westerosi think of our flags?" "Theirs all have animals and plants on them. Ours will stick out like a sore thumb."
"We can always change the flag later," Rick suggested. "And we're supposed to eventually convince them that they shouldn't fly the banners of the king or lord whose only qualification was popping out of the right birth canal. We will show them a better way, as we rebuild civilization. And for that to happen, whatever we do back home, on this far side of the lake we have to band together. Will you follow me, just as you did in the last war?"
Maggie's hand shot up. "I believe in Rick Grimes, and the Hilltop stands with Alexandria."
Then Ezekiel's. "I believe in Rick Grimes. The Kingdom stands with Alexandria."
Dwight was more reluctant, but he raised his hand nevertheless. "I shall follow Rick Grimes. The Sanctuary stands with its fellow communities and former foes."
Suddenly a thin pair of arms wrapped themselves around Rick's waist. "I believe in Rick Grimes," Carl declared in a sleepy voice. "Carl Grimes will always stand behind his father."
Rick scooped up his son and gently placed the boy next to Michonne. Carl was quite heavy now, he didn't know how Jesus was able to half-carry him up the stairs, but still far too light - and a bit too short for a twelve year old boy. In the years between the start of the walker apocalypse and the defeat of the Saviors, hunger had been a shadow which ever presently loomed over Rick and his group, and even the leader's own son was not spared.
"Thank you," Rick addressed his newly expanded audience. "We'll work things out among ourselves later. The Westerosi won't wait though." He gently placed his prosthetic claw on the map.
"What do you think, Carl? Who should we ally?" Jesus asked softly.
"How would I know? I'm only twelve. Ask dad if you haven't already. He's the one who gets everyone together, and I don't do these politics stuff anyway."
The entire table turned towards Rick.
"We have to ally either the Lions or the Wolves since they're fighting over this area right now. We help one of them defeat the other."
"But we don't know even close to enough about them…" Carl said.
"True," Michonne replied. "But we have to decide sooner rather than later. Unless you want this war to continue draining our manpower while the Westerosi come up with all sorts of funny ideas, or even start catching up."
"The wolves are the obvious choice unless they're even worse than Negan," Dwight suggested. "The Starks just want this bit. The Lannisters want everything under the wall. Even if we somehow get them to talk, what sort of country would let a group of outsiders form their own network right in the centre of theirs?"
"South Africa? Italy?" Michonne argued.
"The land we're in is rich, have more than enough waterways, and right at the crossroads between everywhere else. This isn't the middle of nowhere or one city block, the Lannisters will want it back sooner or later, probably even Alexandria itself as it's in the middle of a lake they think it's theirs," Dwight explained patiently. "Besides, the Starks are in a much weaker position than the Lannisters. They have far more reason to listen to us."
"Can't we just build a navy, stay on Alexandria and let them duke it out?" Maggie asked.
"Do we even have shipyards to build enough ships to cover the coastline in time? Or enough lumber here to build that many ships? Does anyone here know how to build and run a navy?" Michonne posed her next chain of questions. "And how many people will even be left to live and work back home when we man all those ships? Sure, we have guns and they don't, but when push comes to shove we aren't actually that much ahead of them. At least for now."
"How about joining the Seven Kingdoms under the Lannisters? Then we could use their shipyards, ports and farms, convince their king or queen of our ways of life..." Ezekiel proposed.
"No." Rick's voice was laced with steel. "We did not sacrifice so many of our men half a year ago just to swap Negan for another overlord, especially with them having so many more people than we 'll do what we have to do. When the sun comes up tomorrow morning, we go north and see what the Lannister armies are like. If we like them, we'll think about our options. If we don't, then we try to get in contact with the Starks. Maybe even make them bid for our support. But we will not bow to or be part of a group where their leaders are leaders only because of the circumstances of their birth. Alexandria has no king. Alexandria needs no king."
...
"Lord Rickard!" A series of staccato knocks came from the bolted door.
"That's Urswyck," one of the Alexandrian guards added. "Urswyck wants to see you right now. He says it's very urgent."
Rick sprinted out of the door less than a minute after he woke up. Carl followed right behind, carrying the map in one hand, hastily throwing a jacket over his tank top in the other, in turn followed by half of the group filed down the staircase. The other half would pack up and come down later with Maggie.
Even before leaving the tower, Rick already noticed things were going wrong for the Brave Companions. Several men ran past, their faces grave. As he walked behind Urswyck towards the Great Hall, he even heard talk of desertion. Rick knew all he had to about a certain Mountain by the time he got to the gatehouse.
Urswyck's eyes were even redder than last night's meeting. "The Goat still thinks he can be Lord of Harrenhal. I think otherwise. They say the Mountain that Rides is marching south to take Harrenhal. Others say he is still gathering his men near the Ruby Ford. But I would rather leave this accursed castle sooner than the Goat wishes, Lord Rickard."
"Speaking of him, where's Vargo Hoat? Shouldn't I be talking to him as well?"
"He hasn't emerged from his chambers since last night. Might be another fever. He's been having those ever since one of our foes bit his ear when fighting a few days ago."
"I'll send a doctor to treat him. CORAL!" A soft pitter-patter of feet came after Rick's shout. "Find Doctor Carson and ask him to treat Vargo Hoat." Rick ordered and the youngster dashed off. "What about the Young Wolf? Won't he relieve this castle if someone else attacked it?" Rick asked after Carl left.
Urswyick gently shook his head. "The Young Wolf is done for. The boy had never lost a battle, s'true, yet he will lose the war all the same. Mayhaps he could retake Winterfell and hold the North, but Lannister's lands are closer to us, and Lannister's hosts closer still. And why would he save a band of sellswords while trouble brews in the North itself?"
"Then what do you want?"
"Gold and women, I suppose. Some land, if the Seven Kingdoms have any to spare."
"I'll tell you what," Rick proposed. "I'll take my people north to deal with The Mountain, if he and his men are as bad as you say. You Brave Companions can follow us, and we'll talk about your options after that battle. A warning though. We take a very dim view of raping and pillaging, if that's what you have in mind."
"But -" Urswyick started.
"Think we'll lose?" Rick's grin was almost savage. "It's the Lannisters who have to worry, not us. If the Goat agrees, we'll leave Harrenhal this afternoon."
Vargo Hoat's face was puffy when Rick entered Vargo's chambers. Drips of puss leaked out of black teeth-marks etched into the mercenary leader's left ear, a red crescent arcing over the ear's entire length. Carl stood in front of the hearth, sterilising a few scalpels and other surgical instruments in the flames. His bare arms glistened with a sheen of sweat.
"How's he doing?" Rick whispered at Harlan Carson. The doctor's white coat was streaked with blood and puss.
"Got a nasty infection. I started treating him just in time. If he waited any longer, it would have gone really bad and the whole ear would have to go," the doctor whispered back. "Might still have to remove parts of his ear unless things go well."
"Your maether if good, Lord Grimth. And your thon too." Vargo's voice was lower, a bit weaker. "I heard you were going to fight the Mountain that Rife."
"Yes, if you did not lie about him. I heard your Brave Companions have been in some hot water lately."
"That, Lord Grimth -"
"-could be sorted out later. Doctor Carson, does he need bed rest?"
"If possible," Harlan explained. "But if it's urgent, he can still ride a horse. Just don't involve him in any actual fighting."
"You heard what my doctor said," Rick spoke sternly. "We'll be leaving Harrenhal at noon. You're welcome to follow and watch us defeat the Mountain and his army. If you decide otherwise, Urswyck and half of your mercenary band will be coming anyway. Chances are that we're hiring after this battle. I'll see you at the main gate at noon."
The Alexandrians came across their first ruined village before nightfall.
"Stay here. Dwight, come with me. Rest of you follow Carl to that tree and dismount. Our horses need a break after half a day's riding," Rick ordered. "If the Brave Companions try anything funny before or when I come back, you know what to do," he whispered to his son beside him. Carl curtly nodded.
Rick dismounted in front of one of the few half-standing huts, where an old man dressed in little more than rags cautiously welcomed the new arrivals. The old man went down on one knee as Rick approached. "I'm afraid there's nothing we could offer, m'lord. They've taken our food, had their way with our daughters, burned our homes when they left."
"No need to kneel. What animal did you see on their flags?" Rick gently helped the old man up. "Lion? Trout? Wolf? Goat?"
"Lions, m'lord," the old man answered before cramming the piece of bread into his mouth. "You saved me, m'lord. None of us smallfolk in this village since they came five days ago."
Rick quickly looked at his surroundings. A few sparks leapt from half-charred bits of wood, dull against the setting sun. Piles of rubble stood where there used to be houses and shops, undoubtedly once filled with light and song and laughter. And a mangled corpse, open eyes still definitely staring at the skies. "Did you say they came five days ago?" Rick asked carefully.
"Yes, m'lord."
"Can't be too careful," Rick muttered. He drew his hatchet and deftly cracked its skull open. "Did anyone die in the last two days?"
The old man shook his head. "No, m'lord."
"Good. Ask your villagers to stab any corpses in the eye socket if anyone dies from now on. This could mean the difference between life or death. We'll give you guys as much food as we can spare. Take this flag as well." Rick snapped a piece off his bread and offered it to the old man, before also giving him one of the Alexandrians' stars-and-stripes. "Do you know where Harrenhal is? It's the very big castle by the lake, with five ruined towers."
"We will, m'lord. And yes, m'lord."
"Good. Take your villagers and make your way there after a day or two. Be careful, but I'd bet that no raider will attack while you have this flag before long."
When Rick and Dwight returned smiling, the Alexandrians let out a sigh of relief. So did the Brave Companions. "There are survivors. Carl, give some of our rations to the villagers."
"We'll offer our food as well, Lord Grimes." Urswyck rode behind Carl, several of the Brave Companions following. Rick could not help but notice that most did not.
"A barbaric land, an oppressed people," Rick announced in front of the campfire that night, a mile further down the road. "Rest well, Alexandrians. Tomorrow we give the Lannisters the first taste of proper civilization."