Lady Smallwood had been very clear when Tristan arrived that she did not want him and his men in her castle. He had thought it was perhaps pettiness or spite. Perhaps she objected to the idea of the Riverlands coming under the control of a northern king. Or maybe he had offended her personally at some point. But that was all quickly ended when she took him to see her local fields.
He had been expecting thick brown furrows. They were black. He thought hedgerows might have gone overgrown. They were bare. He thought he saw a few roots sticking out from the earth. They were bones.
With that, he knew why she couldn't have his men in her castle. They would eat everything she had left. Everything these people had left.
"Have the Lannisters not been gone long enough to sow the fields again?" He asked.
Lady Smallwood turned to him. "This wasn't the Lannisters," she said. "This was done when House Vance came to drive them off and in the months of fighting to and fro since then."
"I see," he replied. "And more recently?"
She looked forward again, along the cobbled road. "There's nothing left in the fields for the bandits, what they come to take, they take from the people."
"That's why they're targeting towns now then?"
"That's what I assume." She said. "Stony Sept in particular is being targeted. Half my remaining garrison is there to try and help protect it."
"And that's where we're going?"
"Yes. It's the best hope of finding these bandits and stopping them before they make this land completely unlivable."
They rode on until they reached Stony Sept. Its wooden walls were in the process of being repaired, the gaps being manned by soldiers in a multitude of liveries from the surrounding territories. A sign of solidarity that was refreshing to Tristan after his experiences with the Brackens and Blackwoods. Still, the people viewed them wearily when he and his men rode into the town. Inside there were further war scars for the town. At least one in four houses bore signs of flame, some scorched, others charred, more reduced to timbers. At the centre of the town a large fountain in the shape of a fish stood silent, the waters still, scum and froth floating on top. Iron cages surrounded the fountain, skeletons lolling in them, staring out with macabre grins.
Around the square were many buildings of commerce and pleasure. An alehouse had been ruined and was still being rebuilt, and the communal areas were still collapsed, with the servers bringing ale out to benches in the cold air. A sept was standing tall, the only building Tristan could see with an open door. Holy brothers and sisters in brown and grey welcomed people in, giving out blankets at the door. They were serving soup alongside the alehouse workers to any passers by. Tristan sent word back to the men that none of them were to claim that charity for themselves.
On the other side of the square, a ruined building stood that looked to be a smithy by what he could see under the fallen timbers, while beside it a brothel and inn stood with a patched roof.
Lady Ravella reined up and Tristan pulled to a halt beside her. "What do you think we can find here?" He asked.
"I don't know. But Stoney Sept is the heart of this territory, if there are answers to be found, they can be found here."
"I see. Where do you recommend I start?"
"The sept has always been the heart of the town. There is likely best. I'll introduce you if you like."
"That would be kind of you. Just give me one minute to speak to my men."
Tristan called his friends to him. "Make sure the men are well behaved here. We're already unwelcome," he nodded at a gaggle of townsfolk who were shooting poisonous looks at the line of horsemen. "But see what you can find out, anything might be useful, bribe if you must, but no bullying."
"Why did you look at me when you said that?" Daryn asked.
"You do look the part," Cley pointed out.
"And you look like a prick, but I don't bring that up all the time do I."
"Children," Dom interrupted sternly, but wagged his finger comically. "Let's get to it shall we?"
The three of them went their separate ways as Tristan followed Lady Smallwood to the sept, where she was talkin on the steps to a very irate looking septon who glowered at Tristan as he approached.
"I hope you aren't expecting open hospitality," the septon declared when Tristan was close enough, folding his arms across his chest. The man's hood was up and his expression was foul.
"We aren't here for hospitality or to impose," Tristan replied, fighting to keep his voice calm. "We are here to bring order back to the Riverlands."
The septon scoffed. "It's passing odd how everyone that comes through this town says they are restoring order, and yet leave it more disordered every time they leave."
"We won't be doing that Septon…"
"Yanich, and they all said that too."
Lady Smallwood stepped in. "Septon Yanich is effectively in charge here. If there is anyone who will be able to help you, it's him."
"Yes. I suppose I am in charge. So what is it you want, Prince Tristan."
Straight to the point then. "I am hunting a band of outlaws, I believe they may be operating out of this area. The Brotherhood of the Sevens' Sword, you know them?"
"I've heard the name," Yanich replied.
Tristan waited for more information. When none was forthcoming, he asked, "what do you know about them?"
"I know they haven't attacked Stoney Sept, more than I can say for the Starks."
He forced down the instictive retort, say what he liked, he needed information, and angering this man wouldn't get it for him. "Are you sure?"
"I am."
"Then where did you hear the name?"
"Travellers still pass through the town, they bring words with them. More than a few have mentioned this brotherhood you seek. They have not come here."
"Are any of these travellers here?"
"I couldn't say."
"Couldn't?"
"The guards keep out the unwelcome, they do not stop those who wish to leave from doing so."
"And this brotherhood, are they unwelcome?"
"They haven't tried to come here."
Tristan held back a sigh. "What about the Handless, have you heard that name?"
"Yes."
"Do you know them?"
"I have not met them."
"How do you know?"
"I have seen many people with war injuries, but no one missing both his hands."
"I see. Well, we'll be here a few days to assuage our concerns and see what we can find out about this Brotherhood, then we'll be on our way. In the meantime is there anything we can do to assist you."
Yanich looked surprised he was offering. "Well, there is one matter. The local wolves and feral dogs have made it dangerous for our hunters to bring in meat. If you were capable of thinning their numbers, that would greatly help us."
Tristan nodded. "I'll see what we can do."
Yanich nodded, thin lipped. "I understand."
After nearly a day of investigations and interrogations, where Lady Smallwood had led him around the town to speak to merchants, travellers and beggars, Tristan reconvened with his friends. Together they bid farewell to Lady Smallwood as she left to return to her castle with her escort, and deliberated on what they'd found.
"It seems like he was telling the truth," Cley said when Tristan had told him what Septon Yanich had said. "I've not found anyone who even hinted that the Brothood had been here."
"I agree," Domeric said. "The only thing I would say is that the people I speak to indicate that this 'Handless' is one man."
"I heard the same," Cley said.
"The Septon seemed to indicate that as well," Tristan confirmed.
"So did the whores," Daryn said. The three of them looked at him pointedly. "Yes I asked them," Daryn added defensively.
"Asked?"
"Yes, asked."
"And did they have anything useful to say when you 'asked'?"
"Yes, actually, more than the people you sought to ask it seems. There was one girl, Bella, she had quite the tale to tell."
"I'm sure she did," Domeric muttered.
"Oh so you aren't interested in when she and three other women were hired to go out to the ruins of a sept two miles outside of town?"
"Not especially," Domeric replied.
"Well you should be, because they heard about the brotherhood when they were out there."
"What happened?" Tristan asked.
"So apparently this is just known as the ruined sept, no one can remember when it was abandoned or destroyed, or even if it was destroyed or just fell into ruin. But these people the girls were asked to come and service were apparently very well set up there, with bedrolls, some food supplies and such, and they didn't seem to be moving any time soon."
"And these were members of the Brotherhood?"
"That's what she thought, given what they were saying."
"And what were they saying?"
"Not too much, they kept their voices low. Apparently they weren't supposed to invite whores up there, or anyone else, but it seems the leader wasn't there that night. But she specifically remembered the mention of the seven swords, and the Handless. She was sworn to secrecy by the men."
"But she told you?" Dom asked.
Daryn nodded. "I asked very nicely, and paid even more so."
"So you think they're still there?"
Daryn shrugged. "I asked Bella, she didn't know, they haven't been back to pay for more services."
"You think we should investigate?"
"No," he fixed Tristan with a glare. "I think you should investigate with that special gift of yours."
"We need to move," Tristan said before he'd opened his eyes and was getting to his feet.
Dom grabbed his arm to steady him. "What's going on?"
"They are part of the Brotherhood, and they're moving."
"Where are they going?"
"Somewhere called Redhill. They mean to take it."
"Where is Redhill?"
"I don't know, best we find out quickly, they're going to attack tomorrow."
They hurried out of the Peach, renting out a room for Tristan to warg in without interruption, and raced for the sept.
Septon Yanich was beckoning people inside for evening prayers. He held up a hand before Tristan's approach. "I understand that you of the north hold to different gods than us. I will ask you not to join us this evening."
"Perfectly reasonable," Tristan replied, "and not why I'm here. I need to know where Redhill is."
"Redhill?" Yanich looked bewildered. "It's a trading village a few days to the east."
"A few days?!"
"Not as the crow flise, but Justman Wood stands between us, you have to circle around it to the north and come in that way."
"There's no path through it?"
"No, Lord Vance retains it for hunting, so logging a path is forbidden."
"I see, thank you Septon," Tristan turned and marched away.
"What do we do Tris?" Dom asked.
Tristan sat down on one of the benches outside the alehouse.
"Tris?" Daryn added. "What do we do?"
"I don't know," he replied, putting his head in his hands. "Even you couldn't do a three day journey in one, Dom."
"Yes I can."
They all turned to him. "You can do three days journey in one?" Cley asked.
"Horse shit," Daryn snorted.
"I can do it," Domeric insisted.
"Even if you could, we can't," Tristan reminded him. "You're a good fighter Dom, but this attack sounds large. You can't take them all."
"Maybe not, but I can evacuate the people, let this brotherhood take Redhill, I'll get the people out."
They stared at him. There wasn't a hint of doubt in his eyes. "In one day," Cley asked, "one rider?"
"Me and my best five men, changing horses, we'll ride light and swift."
Tristan got to his feet. "You truly believe you can do this?"
"No. I know I can."
Tristan looked back at Cley. "I trust him."
"I don't," Daryn snorted. "But I've always wanted to say I told you so to him," he grinned. "Hell I'll even lend you my horse."
Dom smiled. "Thank you for your support, Daryn."
"Alright," Tristan said. "Get your men and horses and get going."
"I'll ready my men too," Daryn said.
"You're not going with him," Tristan reminded him.
"No, but while he's riding to Redhill, I'm going to go to the ruined sept, capture or kill those in it, and see what we can find there."
"Not alone you're not," Cley said, patting his sword.
"Alright, just don't trip over your feet this time," Daryn grinned.
"What about you, Triss?"
"Daryn has the command," Tristan said, looking down at Shield, who was staring up at him patiently. "I was asked to get rid of nearby wolves and rabid dogs, and I think I have an idea."
By now Shield was content to allow Tristan to wear his skin. He didn't even mind so much when Tristan led him away. When he'd first tried it, the wolf had fought to regain control, to bring himself back to Tristan's body and protect it. But now he knew that Tristan had other protectors, and trusted them enough that he would be more willing to let Tristan lead him far from his body. So when Tristan moved him into Justman Wood, he relished the feeling of running again beneath the trees. Tristan let him take a little control, guiding him more than controlling him. Shield followed the scent of his own cousins, the little ones in grey and led him into the woods.
They scented his presence long before they saw him, and ran. They could smell the man flesh on him, and he knew they feared it, for the smell of manflesh was oft followed by that of fire and wolf blood. But they couldn't outrun him. Like the children of man, when scared they ran to what they knew, they ran to home.
He followed them to a clearing, lit in the afternoon light, a circle of green around a bone white stump that was older than the forest around it. His cousins were there, big and small, fierce and gaunt. Some of the older and bolder sprang forward to bar his way. He scented the fear, the hunger, despite the fresh blood and meat on their muzzles. They had eaten, and yet they starved, for men had upset the order of the world and all suffered.
Tristan pulsed into Shield's thoughts, a reminder of loyalty and love. Not all men, not all the world.
Shield stood tall, towering over his cousins and howled. The song sang through the trees and streams and rivers, and wolves all over out of Tristan's sight but clear in Shield's mind stood tall from where they raced, drank and starved. I am no danger, it said to them. Then he turned, and ran back into the woods. None of them would follow him, not yet.
He returned later with the body of a dog in his mouth. He had found the pack feasting on a shepherd and his sons. He had let Tristan take command of his body then and ended them. He took the largest of them first and raced back into the woods to find his cousins again.
When he brought the kill to the clearing his cousins came close. He dropped it and growled when the biggest came to feast. They backed away, no match for him. He picked up the kill again and brought it over to the centre of the clearing, around the white stump where the youngest waited, protected by their mothers. The young and future of the pack. He lay the kill before them. The mothers saw him, saw what he offered and urged the cubs to eat.
A howl from behind made him turn.
A strong cousin made weak prowled up to him. The once leader of the pack, jealous and fearful of losing his place. Tristan slipped back, letting Shield take charge again, this was his domain.
The fight was brief. The old alpha was hungry and desperate and small to Shield. He was left limping and bowing before his new leader.
Shield leapt onto the white stump and felt his strength surge as he looked around at the pack. His pack. He raised his head and howled again. Race with me, Tristan knew it said. Hunt with me.
The hunters of the pack followed Shield, the mothers remained behind to guard the young. As they raced through trees and across streams they picked up more, smaller packs of four or five, isolated strays and lone wolves added to the swarming numbers who followed Shield through the woods. Some wanted to stop, he could feel it, to wait out the darkness, but there was no time, and in the shadow of his strength, they found their courage again. Larger packs attempted to resist, but all through the night he brought them to heel until his pack numbered in the hundreds of his grey cousins. As the light of dawn fingered through the leaves he raised his head and summoned them all with a final howl, a call to war.
They reached the far side of Justman Wood and waited amidst the brambles. The village was draped across the crown of a hill, sturdy wooden and dry stone structures. With a large watchtower in the centre.
Tristan shifted to the fore of Shield's mind and scanned the scene before him. People were streaming out of the village to the north. But who were they? He growled at his new pack to halt and prowled out into the fields beyond the wood, keeping low to the ground. Despite that, some of them followed him. He had to let Shield take command again to force them back to the tree line. Taking control again, he moved towards the stream of people.
A horse. A rider in blue and red. He was calling to the people, beckoning and gesturing away from the village with a lance. He prowled close, who was it? The rider twisted and rode back to the village, the sigil on his shield becoming clear. A skinless man. House Bolton. So Dom had made it. Tristan turned and raced back to the wood, where he turned and waited.
The stream of people continued until it had become a trickle, and that was when the others came. Coming up from the south, four horse drawn carts, packed to the brim with men. Tristan struggled to make it out because the sun was glaring at the from the east, and glinting off the wagons, or the weapons and armour of the men inside them. More were following the carts and carriages on foot, glinting like the rest.
Shield could feel the unease in his cousins. Many pined for the deep places of the wood, eager to be gone from this place of danger. Tristan let Shield take the fore and soothe them, and with a howl, command them.
They broke from the forest. The boldest followed straight away, the rest followed the crowd. Just like men, the weakest of a wolfpack followed the strong, and he was the strongest. Shield held back to keep the pack together.
The smell of blood, the sound of battle. His cousins wished to leave, he led them on. He led them up. He led them between dwellings and into the opening beyond.
Everything stopped when he led his cousins in. The mass of man flesh came from the right and three horsemen stood opposed to them with swords in hand.
He howled charged and his cousins followed. Men were always alarmed at his speed. The first to notice him barely had time to react when Shield came charging at him. He leapt, clamped his jaws around the man thing's arm, and tore, ripping the meat and bone apart. He spat the arm out and leapt at the next man. No ripping this time. His mouth closed around the man's head with a crunch of bone and metal taste of blood.
His counsins had joined him, mostly. He looked back and saw four of them going at the men on horses, who sat dumb in the saddle, even as their horses wailed and shook. Shield raced back and leapt ahead of his cousins, standing between them and the horsemen. He snarled, raising one paw and cuffing the leading cousin around the head. He growled, and the cousins turned, chastised, running to join their kin.
"Shield?"
He turned. Tristan's pale friend was looking down at him from the central horse.
Tristan shifted to the fore. He nodded twice.
"Tris?"
Tristan jerked his head away from the village.
Domeric nodded. "Don't die out there, Tris, Shield." He turned and led the riders away.
Shield returned to his cousins and their feast until the men regained their courage and weapons. Then he led them back into the woods.
