Chapter 35: In the Rivers and Snow
Forward: Editing and proof-reading credits to Rainsfere.
…
The Next Day, Late Morning – The Riverlands, Raventree Hall – Hadrian Rivers
More people had arrived to Blackwood Vale in the early morning, around fifty more from what Hadrian had counted. His father had been quick to put out a notice that Raventree Hall would offer sanctuary to all those in need, especially with the Lannister army closing in from the south while mercenaries raided in the west. The common folk had few choices, either risk going south to lose what little coin they had to 'support' the Lannister war effort or seek out safety with one of the Riverland Houses.
"Yet they're all coming here…" Hadrian muttered, looking over the large camp of refugees that had been flowing in ever since he had returned home. He had been quick to take the lead on organizing relief efforts, ensuring proper tents and supplies were sorted out. Poor planning could lead to illness breaking out and the last thing they needed was hundreds of sickly peasants to manage. It had been tricky to keep everything orderly…though luckily he was patient and persistent in his duties.
Sighing, Hadrian paced his way to the far end of the camp that bordered the front of Raventree Hall itself. There he had vital services set up ranging from a cooking station to hand out food, a medical tent to inspect newcomers along with a guard post were issues could be brought up. Already there was a line up for early lunch rations, people being handed bread and soup as well. It was sad to see whole families huddled together with empty bowls in hand…even more disheartening with children by themselves.
"Come on surely I can get more!" One chubby refugee demanded at the front of the line. "This slop is barely anything. Only worth a gulp or two at least!"
The server, a middle-aged woman shook her head. "I'm sorry but that is the amount everyone gets right now." She politely explained.
"At least extra bread! Half a loaf maybe?" He insisted, making the woman glance nervously around.
Hadrian could see people getting on edge with the line being held up, along with hearing the man's growing demands. At this rate others would start doing the same and risk causing a ration shortage. "Sir, please you have to make do with what you have." He spoke up, drawing the peasant's attention to him.
"What lets you give orders boy?" He snapped, before noticing the fine leather and gray cloth cloak he wore.
"My fath-…Lord Blackwood has appointed me to managing this camp. Thus problems such as this are my responsibility."
The man gave a small grunt. "Then I can say you need to work on the food here. A grown man like me needs a lot after all."
Hadrian held back an annoyed scowl before speaking back. "I understand that, yet you must know that Lord Blackwood is doing the best he can. He's already having the farmers in the valley put out their harvest to support everyone coming here."
Hearing how the locals of the Vale were giving up so much to aid them drew low mutterings all about. "I…umm…that is generous of them all." The large man meekly remarked.
Hadrian nodded back. "If you do wish for more rations, you can help the people of Blackwood or around the camp. We're not asking for anything much; just simple labor would be a boon."
Hearing the news drew a few eager remarks from the line. The man gave a thoughtful look and nodded before stepping aside "Fair enough…umm…" He started, unsure what to call the boy.
"Hadrian Rivers." Turning to the line, he'd gesture for them to move along. With the flow of refugees going, he relaxed for the moment.
"Thank you m'lord." The server kindly answered, making him blush a bit.
"It was nothing. Anyway I…uhh…should go check on the medical tent." With that he hurried off, just wanting a break from the attentive gazes he got.
Nearing the medical tent, he'd soon hear the familiar sounds of pained groans and coughing. Entering the large space, he looked over the separate cots, all divided apart by cloth to give the patients privacy as they were recovering or being examined. It had taken a good effort to recruit those with just basic
knowledge of medical care. While the medics were no maesters, they at the least knew how to split a broken limb or calm a fever.
"Glad to have you visiting Master Hadrian." The House Maester kindly stated, the older man giving a soft grin.
"Had enough time to come help us in the camp?" The young man questioned. "How is my brother Robert doing…um…with his condition."
The Maester sighed at the question. "Stubborn about taking his medicine and sticking to a better diet. History has shown often that nobility can have an embarrassing end on the…well…privy."
Hadrian shuffled a bit, feeling that was unneeded details. "Anyway how does everyone look here?" He quickly asked to change the subject. The two paced along the two rows of cots, examining a few of the people resting on them.
"Mostly physical injuries. Cuts, sprains and the odd broken limb." The maester explained. "Time is all that is needed, though some here are quite restless."
"Ugh! I'm fine damn it!" A gruff male voice spoke out from the cot set at one back corner of the tent.
Curious, Hadrian moved up to see what was going on. One of the male medics was struggling with a refugee, trying to change the bandage wrapped around the right side of his head. "It needs to be changed! The cloths bloody and dirty…you'll risk infection." The attendant tried to reason.
The refugee squirmed free of the attendant's grasp, letting Hadrian get a look of his injury. It seemed his right ear had been cleanly cut off. While the wound had been bandaged, it was still quite raw where the cut had been made. "I said I'm fine! Look I can bandage it myself…just I need to get out of here." He spoke out.
"Why?" Hadrian question, drawing the man's attention. "I'm Hadrian Rivers, overseer for the camp here. Can you explain how you got such a bad cut…seems a week old from what I can tell."
The man grumbled, seeming annoyed and even a tad nervous with the questioning. "If I answer your questions m'lord will you let me leave?"
The young man sighed before giving a nod. "Yes, along with taking fresh bandages as well."
"Very well." The refugee grunted. "So thing is I…had a run in with those Bloody Mummers."
"The Brave Companions?"
"Prefer the other name. Better for those murderous bastards." The man grumbled. "Anyway they snagged me while I was getting my family out of the village, cut my ear off trying to make me talk. I uhh…got the slip of them though when they were jesting about though I couldn't find my family afterwards."
"Seems like a close call. Where was your village exactly?"
"Umm…west of here in the denser forests. It was a raiding party…small enough to slip by Lord Blackwood's patrols."
"Odd considering we've had no news of them raiding that far west. I'll have to report this."
"Ahh…if you believe so." The man muttered nervously. "Anyway…can I have those bandages and go? I need to go look for my family out in the camp."
Hadrian nodded to the attendant who gave the man a roll of bandages. "Very well. I wish you the best of luck finding your loved ones."
"Right…" The man muttered, standing up from the cot before giving a wince. Clutching the side of his injured head, he nearly had his thumb sliding right into the exposed ear hold, as if trying to plug out a noise. "Leaving…right…leaving…" He shuffled past the confused trio, continuing to mutter to himself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
Once he left the tent, the Maester shook his head. "Seems his injury is more to the mind."
"Seems so." However to Hadrian it sounded as if the man had been talking to someone else. That aside, there was a lot to the man's story that didn't make much sense. Before he could ponder more on the matter, one of the soldiers from outside entered the next.
"Hadrian. Your father is calling you back to the keep for a meeting. It will be in the Godswood." The man quickly informed.
Nodding in response, he looked to the Maester who replied. "I'll tend to matters here in your stead. Issues of war aren't suited for me."
"Neither for me…still…" With a sigh, the young man followed the soldier out of the medical tent and down the road to Raventree Hall itself. Crossing the sturdy drawbridge, they passed through the gates to arrive at the main yard before taking a turn to the left end of it, heading to a smaller portcullis gateway which was open. The Godswood was one of Hadrian's favorite places in Raventree Hall, feeling like a whole other world when you lost sight of the walls surrounding it. Strolling along the trail that lead to the looming dead weirwood tree, Hadrian could soon see the gathering spot set under its barren branches.
Lord Tytos stood at a large table which had a large detailed map of the Riverlands along with early lunch set about for everyone else. As always his father was lordly and commanding at just a glance, considering he was now wearing his raven fathered cloak and yellow colored plate armor embroiled with jade vine-lead patterns.
Standing across from him was Brynden, Tytos' eldest son who was a near spitting image of the older man in his own youth. He wore a mix of chain and leather, seeming ready for traveling as well. When Hadrian approached, he was the first to notice him. "Here at last. Keeping the rabble outside entertained?" He commented in a jesting manner.
"If you mean keeping them fed and sheltered…yes I've been doing a very good job, Brynden." Hadrian m uttered as he took a spot at the far end of the table. "I take it you've called me here to shares any news from the refugees?"
Tytos nodded, at last looking up from the table to gaze at Hadrian. "It's the fact that we've heard nothing of the Houses to the east and communication from the west is limited." He explaind. "Lord Edmure has been acting strange. All orders from him have insisted we hold our position and build up our numbers. He claims that Lord Robb Stark will be coming to support our forces…yet nothing on the number of troops, expected supplies or even their route."
"So then perhaps we need to take matters into our own hands." Brynden remarked. "I can understand that refusing Lord Edmure's instructions would be…controversial. However we are facing quite unique circumstances."
Tytos glanced to his son. "I agree with you, though rushing our forces out on their own would be risky. We have no idea of Lord Tywin's forces in the east, only that they control the King's Road and Harrenhal with the Brave Companions."
"I…do have some insight about the mercenaries." Hadrian spoke up.
"Then inform us then." Brynden quickly demanded.
Glaring a bit back at him, Hadrian continued to speak. "Villagers from the west talk about how the mercenaries had been called back from their raiding. They seem to be regrouping for some largescale attack."
Brynden gave a confused look at this information. "But where? We're the closest hold and I doubt their foolish enough to take on our defenses."
"Well…I think their attacking to the northwest." Hadrian pointed on the map between the differing forks. "The refugees talk about some…militia group in that area. They've been taking the fight to the Brave Companions, hitting their supplies and freeing captives."
"Heh…peasants fighting back? You sure this isn't just a rival mercenary group clashing with them?"
Tytos shook his head. "Not likely. The Companions don't leave rivals behind and Lord Edmure's along with the other Lords haven't hired any mercenary companies." Pausing in thought, he narrowed his eyes. "If they are marching into that region it must be more than just cutting down a threat. They could be trying to fully control the routes from the North." He then pointed to the Twins. "Lord Robb will need to convince Lord Frey to let him cross through his keep to avoid battling it out across the King's Road. However if the Brave Companions take over the Fairmarket region for the Lannisters then they could lay an ambush there."
"Then move on to us from the north." Brynden muttered. "So then who could be organizing this militia if they've been this effective?"
No one answered, though Hadrian saw the thoughtful look on his father's face. He too had an idea on who had the skills to muster a resistance against the sellswords, the same person who had saved his life months ago. He didn't speak on the matter, only wondering what his father knew about the Northerner veteran's past.
"Whatever the case, this could give us breathing room to make our own attack. Though if the Brave Companions do take Fairmarket, then most of the Riverlands will be walled in."
Brynden nodded. "Then I suggest you let me, and my other brothers leave the Vale. We can scout out westward for the sellswords, make plans in Riverrun and see what has been going on with the forests around Highheart.
The mention of that hill made both Tytos and Hadrian give tense looks. "I agree with the first two…but not the last suggestion. No one is to go into that region considering how many people simply disappear to it."
"I find that odd." Brynden countered. "While I don't mingle with the refugees, my trips to the other holds have let me hear interesting talk about Highheart. Such as how a trio sister mystics have turned that place into a sanctuary and have the ear of quite a few lords, Edmure's included."
Hadrian gulped at the talk of three mystics, flashes of that horrible night coming to mind. The short sense of fear did fade as he kept composed.
In the end, his father spoke up before him. "Then I fear our fellow lords have become both superstitious and desperate." Tytos muttered. "Whatever the case, I agree that we need to coordinate with the other Houses."
"Even House Bracken?" Hadrian questioned. The neighboring keep of Stone Hedge had long been a rival of the Blackwoods, having long disputed the claims to the vale here. It had been centuries since they had fought but there were times they had united against common threats such as when the Andals first invaded.
"Even them. I've already sent a raven to Lord Jonos about uniting our forces as a show of strength. He's a reasonable man who's strived to put our Houses pasts aside, so I'm sure he'll agree."
"As you wish father." Hadrian replied back.
Nodding, Tytos shifted away from the table. "For now Hadrian, continue your efforts with the refugees. If you can, convince those able to help with fortifications if they have the skills or enlist with our forces. The more who can fight, the better our chances." Moving past Hadrian, he'd clap one hand firmly on his shoulder, a small parting smile on his face before moving down the trail.
"Best keep everything in order while we're gone brother. It'd be embarrassing if we returned to a shanty town." Brynden chuckled before following his father down the trail out of the Godswood.
Now alone, Hadrian took a deep breath before looking up at the weirwood tree. "Everything is going to be fine…it should be fine…" Yet nearby cawing had him turn around as a group of crows were flying off from the nearby trees, disappearing over the southern wall. "Then why does everything feel wrong…" Once more there was a building dread within him, the powerless feeling of facing the unknown.
…
The Riverlands, Stone Hedge
Lord Jonos Bracken gazed across the map of the Riverlands along with pondering the letter he had received from Lord Tytos. Across the table, he had other letters from other lords, one of the oldest being Edmure's orders to hold their forces. "Sitting here and waiting. By then the Lannisters will have us surrounded in all directions. Won't matter if the North even arrives." The broad-shouldered man grumbled to himself. Setting the new letter down, he'd rub one hand along his bearded chin in thought.
Edmure was acting strange with his orders and combining all the hindering events throughout the Riverlands, his choices were limited. Working with Lord Tytos seemed a fitting choice since they controlled experienced and sizable armies. House Bracken's bannermen in fact outnumbered House Tully's forces. Still even that didn't ensure security for their regions with so much ground to over.
"Ugh…just no other options…" He cursed under breath.
"Bold Lord Jonos…there are always other choices." A cooing female voice spoke out from the room doorway.
Surprised by the unfamiliar voice, Jonos drew the short sword he had at his hip as he turned around. "Who are you?!" He sharply demanded. "I know my servants and I can tell you're not one of them!"
From the dark doorway, a fair woman stepped into view. She was dressed plainly like a peasant, though the style had a more gypsy like styling to it. "Your men were kind enough to let me in Lord Jonos. They understood the importance of me meeting you."
"And who exactly are you?"
The woman gave a wide sly grin. "You may call my Whispess." Pacing closer to the table, she stood across from him. "As for what I offer…a chance to gain what your House has desired for centuries and a place in the new world to come."
The Riverlands, Fairmarket – Marcus
Marcus didn't like the fact he had overslept this morning, though he blamed it on the fact that his wife hadn't waken him. He didn't blame her considering he had been tireless in the past week organizing the militia on the town's defenses. They couldn't risk having any mistakes, else they'd waste valuable resources.
"Sandra…always looking out for me." He chuckled as he finished getting dressed for work before leaving his room.
In the hallway leading to the pub hall, he could already hear the morning crowd still having breakfast. The Three Kegs had become the hub for the militia force, their 'stronghold' for Fairmarket. Here most of the militia ate and mingled, setting plans for whatever goal Marcus and his fellow Grims had set.
"Marcus! Took you long enough to get up!" One man laughed out, his companions giving jesting chuckles.
More greetings followed, the gruff Northerner smirking in amusement as he made his way to the bar itself. Sandra stood out among the other cooks and servers, politely giving directions to get as many meals out as possible. Seeing her husband up, she'd give a warm smile before moving over to meet him. "Morning old wolf." She teased before sharing a hug and kiss with her.
"Could have woke me up sooner you know." He remarked. "Every hour may count in getting the defenses set."
"Well…even a fearless leader such as yourself needs sleep."
He rolled his eyes at the title. "I'm just a soldier Sandra. Leaders often sit behind their men while I'm the one up front working with them."
The woman simply shrugged as she'd get a plate with a thick layered sandwich on it. "Then a good soldier needs a hearty meal." She stated with a playful grin.
Shaking his head with a grin, he quickly took a few bites before getting a seat at the bar to continue talking with her. "So where's Merry? I take Garm is watching her."
"She's playing outside with the other kids. You know that old dog treats her like his pup." Sandra answered.
Marcus nodded in agreement. "What about my companions? Heard any news of them."
Sandra paused in thought before answering. "People say Shadow is off on one of his scouting missions, so I don't know where he is. As for Doric and Ogatto, they're in the town outskirts getting the trenches set along with drilling the men."
"Then that is where I'll go next." Eating most of his sandwich, he picked up the rest before getting out of his seat. "Man the fort while I'm out."
Sandra laughed a bit before giving a quick kiss to his cheek. Slipping away from the bar, Marcus crossed the busy hall to reach the doors leading outside. The front of the Three Kegs was where most of the building supplies were stored, set under covering tents to keep any possible rain from soaking them. All about villagers and militia were busy at work, be it moving materials around or relaying messages.
Marcus glanced around the surrounding area; he could see that the construction on the spiked barricade was doing well. Since they knew the Brave Companions strength was their light cavalry, they had to limit their approach of attack towards the town while mounted. Adding a trench along the barricade further made it impossible to be leaped over by any bold riders, along with slowing those on foot. The eastern approach though didn't have full-on barricades but a crisscrossing line of spiked defenses, small trenches and short walls. All of it was meant to slow the attacks and protect the defenders from enemy archers.
Marcus moved towards the training grounds set to the right of the Three Kegs. All around there were tents set up for the militia members, allowing the men to rest and get armed against a sudden attack. Weapon racks were properly stored away with the maces, swords and bows reserved for the trained fighters while reinforced clubs, spears and slings for recruits. While their efforts against the Bloody Mummers had gotten them proper arms and armor, they lacked fighters with proper experience to use such things effectively. Despite this the militia's morale was at an all-time high considering the dedication to training themselves and building the town defenses. The tested fighters were busy sparring against each other while recruits worked on the basics against training dummies. The sight reminded Marcus of his own early days learning to be a soldier, though he hoped these honest folk wouldn't be driven to such a lifestyle.
At the edge of the training grounds were women and children watching the men practice. Among the kids playing about, Marcus saw the curly haired head of Merry who was trying to climb onto Garm's back as if to ride him like a horse. Other kids giggled about, shy about the dog who seemed quite impassive with the girl trying to keep her balance.
"I'm queen of the wolves now! ROARR!" She cheered out before slipping off the canine's side, drawing laughs from the kids. Merry laughed as well, though Garm gave a huff before shifting to lay across the girl's belly, pinning her under him. "No! Garm stop it!" Though to silence her the half-wolf turned to lick at her face, making her demanding become cute giggles.
"Alright enough now." Marcus chuckled, giving a nod to his animal companion who casually got off his daughter. "Trying to tame him? Trust me, took me ages when I got him as a pup."
Merry got up, dusting grass off her sky-blue dress. "He listens to me though."
"Heh…more like parenting you like a reckless pup." Sighing, he'd brush his daughter's curly hair. "Sadly, I have to take him away for now. Friendly as he may be, he's not safe to have around other kids."
Merry gave a low 'aw' before nodding. "Alright…" Though she gave a quick hug around the half-wolf's neck before moving aside. "Behave around daddy ok Garm!" With that order, the half-wolf gave a short bark, making the girl grin happily.
"Now go off and play with the others." Marcus chuckled before the girl hurried off to join the other kids.
Garm gave a short bark to his master, making the man reach one hand down to scratch his ears. The two then moved on to the drilling grounds, passing by men practicing their stabbing moves with spears while approaching a line of men. It was easy to see Doric among the group, considering his height and imposing grey armor as he paced along the group. The militia members had formed up in a shield wall, working on their stance and formation.
"Make sure your stances are strong. How you position your legs and feet can determine how well you'll hold your ground." Doric directed. "A shield wall must be unified. You protect those beside you, so if your guard falters you risk your comrades being struck."
The men seemed nervous, though had determined looks. Many of them were freed captives from the last raid, some who had endured the battle against the mercenaries. While that skirmish had been the toughest battle of their simple lives, the incoming battle be far more intense to anything they had experienced.
At this point Marcus decided to step in and speak. "Remember, you're all meant to be the last line of defense if they breach the fortifications. Unlike the Bloody Mummers you have a true reason to fight, to protect your family and livelihoods."
Doric nodded at the statement. "Let's take a break for now. Water and food will do all of you some good." The militia were quick to follow the orders while Gray Knight moved to stand by Marcus as they watched the men run off. "They have spirit that is for sure."
"Yet it won't be enough." Marcus muttered back. "Our skirmishes have made capable troops, but our newer recruits lack proper battle mentality. If things get rough, morale could fall quickly in a real fight."
"It's our duty to keep them motivated." Doric simply stated. "No matter the odds I will stand my ground…and so will you too."
"Heh with my family on the line, of course." The grim risk did bring a dark glare in the man's eyes though. "We have to make this work. Have to draw the line here and show Westeros the people can stand on its own."
"No lords or masters." The Gray Knight paused long on those words. "I've done this before a few times in Essos, teaching towns and freed slaves how to defend themselves. Instilling confidence to stand and fight makes a difference against an ignorant enemy."
Marcus nodded in agreement as he understood. "Aye I can agree with that." Sighing, he looked over the camp and nod. "Let's just hope Zarin and Alya succeed on their end. Their side of the coin with intrigue and politics can be a fickle one."
Doric nodded in agreement. "Zarin hasn't been wrong yet and no doubt prepared to deal with the Lannisters. By the time they realize his gambit, it will be too late."
"I'll trust in your confidence then." Patting the knight's armored shoulder, he'd glance off to the defense line where a large group of militia archers were gathered. Ogatto was pacing along the line as the men practiced on their long-ranged shots. "Anyway, I best make sure our Dothraki isn't terrifying our men."
A single amused laugh escaped from Doric before Marcus moved away from him with Garm close beside him. On the way to the archers he'd inspect the work on the trenches and barricades until one of the men working, a foreman, approached him. "Ah! Marcus, I hoped I could ask a few questions."
"Of course. Everything is going well I take?"
"Aye, though the men question if we should be cutting down the tree line to the east despite having plenty of wood already stocked. It seems to be extra work doing so."
Marcus nodded in understanding. "True, we have a lot saved up from our personal collection and our raids. However this tree line offers cover for our enemy's approach. The more we clear it away, the easier it will be to notice and shoot them."
The man blinked in surprise, realizing the obvious logic. "Heh, as expected of a wise soldier like yourself." The man chuckled. "Funny how many times I heard your tales at the inn. I doubted them at times, yet the last few months have shown me how wrong I was on that."
"If it'll make the men feel any better I'll take up an axe to help them out." Marcus offered. "Always has been my second weapon of choice."
"Heh they would be grateful." The foreman jested. "Anyway thank you for taking the time to talk Marcus."
"Any time." Firmly shaking hands, the foreman returned to his duties while Marcus approached Ogatto's group of archers.
"LET LOOSE!" The booming voice of the Dothraki spoke out before the twang of a few dozen bows followed.
The gathered militia archers let their arrows fly out, landing in the open field that separated the defenses from the nearby forest and main road. Along the area were colored posts, markers for certain distances. From what the Northerner could tell, their shots were too spread out instead of set in a clear line between the markers.
The Dothraki gave a small growl and shook his head. "You all need to be organized with your shots! If too many of your shots are too short or far then the enemy's charge will not be thinned enough!"
The villagers were a bit unnerved by the imposing warrior's words, though one young lad spoke up. "We've been fine with direct shots at the range at least."
Ogatto nodded. "Yes, but you only do that within a shorter distance. That point will only come when those mercenaries are nearly at the wall." He stated before at last noticing Marcus approaching, giving a big grin. "Perhaps it be would better if our sharpshooter explains."
"You do know I use a crossbow instead of a bow right?" The Northerner remarked with a smirk.
"True…yet you're the one who taught the basics of mass archery. Who better to teach this lot?" The former Bloodrider laughed. "Besides you no doubt used a bow plenty of times before and early on in the Rebellion."
Sighing, Marcus nodded as he stepped up, the militia relaxing around him. "Lad. Mind if I borrow your bow?"
The young man handed his bow over which Marcus inspected, feeling how balanced it was and testing the strength of the string. "So there is a simple trick with shooting as a group." He started to explain before gesturing for other archers around his height. "So if wind conditions are good, such as today, it's all about getting your angle right." Looking out to the field, he picked out the mid-post before picking an arrow to draw back. Pulling the string, he settled his aim at a sixty-degree angle. "Match my aim." The group did so, Marcus letting them take their time as he held his pose with ease. "And…LOOSE!"
With the order given, their arrows flew and landed in a grouped line along the marker. The archer chuckled and grinned, pleased with the result. "It's that simple?" The lad asked, taking his bow back from the Northerner.
"A beginner's lesson. So long as you understand the distance and the angle of your shots, you'll all shoot as a group." Marcus explained. "Course even Ogatto here knows that. Hells I even taught him that."
The Dothraki shrugged with an amused smirk. "You're a better teacher, as you've shown." He laughed out. "Everyone take a short break. We'll practice on your angles for the others posts and at different positions along the defenses." With the instructions given, the militia members chatting about or finding someplace to sit for a while. "So what do you wish to discuss Marcus?"
"About our enemy and current odds. According to Shadow's report, we're quite outnumbered even with our growing numbers."
Ogatto nodded. "About five hundred mercenaries. Two hundred of them are the Bloody Mummers with a hundred light cavalry, though they have about twenty zorse for their commanders and elites."
"Zorses…" Marcus had heard about the foul tempered half-horses, an exotic beast that came from beyond the Bone Mountains east of the Dothraki sea. "Those will be a problem. From my understanding those mounts are near fearless and can leap over most man-made defenses."
"Aye. We'll have to take them out quickly if they rush at us. I've seen those horses take multiple arrows only to go into a rage instead of panic." The Dothraki detailed. "The rest of the Mummers personal forces is foot soldiers, pretty much a mix of everything. The captain Shadow questioned sadly couldn't be clear on those details." Shrugging he continued on. "The other three hundred are a mix of sellsword bands who signed on with the Lannisters and put under the Vargo Hoat's command. Their numbers are more clear, a hundred dedicated archers, around one hundred fifty soldiers and the last fifty being heavy armored veterans. Overall it's going to take them a bit over a month to get here by ferrying across the Forks through Harroway."
Marcus nodded as he thought over the numbers. "And our fighting number is around three hundred, though that may grow before they arrive. However nearly half of our forces aren't truly battle tested and a fourth are still learning the basics."
Ogatto smirked a bit. "So…the classic outnumbered and outmatched situation. Really those are the kinds of battles I enjoy."
"I'd prefer we didn't lose most of our forces. Such a loss would weaken our message of the small folk being capable of standing up for themselves."
"Not trying to be negative…" The Dothraki sighed, realizing how dire the situation was. "This is war and while these people are being shown a way to not be helpless, there will still be losses." His eyes, especially that pale blind one had a sharp look to it. "We can't save them all Marcus."
The Northerner was silent, glancing at the militia as he focused his gaze on the young lad who had lent him his bow. He wondered what the boy's fate would be. A causality in the nearing battle be it by a lucky arrow or cut down by a sellsword. Even if he survived how would the experience change him…make him stronger, traumatize him or make him into something bloodthirsty. Marcus had seen what conflict does to people, turning decent men into a cold-blooded killers. Even he had neared that path…nearly became something like Shadow.
Hands wrapped around that young neck; the sight of the young bastard boy's eyes were wide as he gasped for air. Never had he felt such rage towards someone so young, making his thumbs press down on his windpipe. Everything he had taught the boy for the last few years…he twisted for his own sick desires. Even as he was crushing the life out of that boy he could see it on his face…the sadistic glee in those eyes…
"Marcus." Hearing his name snapped him out of his dark memory and glancing back at the Dothraki. The former Bloodrider knew the hunter was thinking of the past, though didn't question him on what it was about.
At last Marcus nodded in understanding. "I know." He simply answered before moving to face the inn. "Keep working on their aim. Only have over a month…so every competent archer counts."
"Of course Marcus."
With that said, the Northerner headed back to his home. The dark memory still echoing in his mind…which even Garm could sense. The loyal canine whined a bit, his snout nudging his master's hand as they walked. Looking down at those knowing eyes, a soft smile crossed his face as he rubbed his companion's head. "You're right old friend. It's in the past…and in the end I got you from it." Nearing the inn he could see his wife and daughter, Sandra watching Merry run around with the other kids. The sight put the past to the back of his mind, knowing right now today and the future matter so much more. "For the future…" He muttered to himself as he rejoined his beloved family.
…
Late midday - Somewhere Beyond the Wall – Jon Snow
Jon panted as he caught his breath, wiping blood off his lips after the difficult fight he had endured. For a moment he just glanced about the snow-covered wasteland and his Wildling captors who had watched the fight. His gaze then drifted to Longclaw in his loosely bound hands, the Valyrian steel blade red with blood. Then his eyes moved to his slain foe…a fellow brother of the Night's Watch, the ranger veteran Qhorin Halfhand. Ghost was beside him, the white furred wolf licking his muzzle clear of blood after having bitten the old ranger in the leg, holding him in place for Jon to deal a killing bow.
The Grand Ranging had nearly fallen apart over the course of the last few months. Limited scouting information, increasingly bad weather and even encounters with stray yet enduring Wights. Indeed the undead problem had grown since the first encounter so long ago when he had arrived in Castle Black. When the rangers who had been with his uncle Benjen had been found slain, they had risen over night before being properly burned. With that and the growing reports of Wildling sightings on their side of the Wall, action was called for. They had set up a base camp at the Fist of the First Men, a strong foothold to do their ranging.
All around him the Wildlings muttered, openly impressed at the young man's prowess in killing one of their greatest enemies. The plan was working as Halfhand had expected, proving himself worthwhile to the Wildlings and giving him the chance to learn of their full plans.
From the group a Wildling woman spoke up, red hair peeking out from her winter coat hood. "You can tell Mance that that is the man who killed Qhorin Halfhand."
Ygritte's words silenced the muttering as all gazes were focused on the band's leader, a large fellow dressed in an intimidating outfit of bones. The Lord of Bones gave a small grunt before moving over to Jon, one hand out as he silently demanded for Longclaw. Jon obeyed handing the weapon over, knowing this could easily end with steel being plunged into his heart. In the end the man just cut his wrist bindings, drawing a relieved sigh from the young ranger.
"Burn the body." The bone covered Wildling ordered to the others before whispering to Jon. "You don't want this one coming back for you."
Jon didn't reply back, only keeping a calm expression towards the man. He couldn't show weakness or distress over killing the respectable ranger. Both Halfhand and even Geralt before him had told him that such open feelings could reveal your intent to your enemy. Thankfully, he had had a lot of practice since parting with the Witcher. He watched them set the fallen ranger alight, turning away when he felt Ygritte's hand on his shoulder. There was concern in her eyes which was unexpected, though their history was a complex one at that. "Not too roughed up Jon?" She remarked, a witty tone hinting her voice.
"I'm fine." He sighed, clearing the mix of blood and sweat on his face.
"Good." She motioned for him to follow along towards the edge of the ridge. Reaching the end, they gazed out across a wide valley that had been tucked away in the Frostfangs, far beyond the reach of possibly even the most experienced Rangers. Gray and white tents littered the flat valley, countless thousands living in a camp city. At that point he realized just how unified the Wildlings were…an army that possibly outnumbered the Kingdoms combined military numbers. Everyone south of the Wall greatly underestimated just how united the Wildlings truly were.
"Come on boy." The Lord of Bones grunted. "You can still walk, so you'll be seeing Mance. Better have something worthwhile to tell him else we'll be having another fire tonight."
Despite the threat, Jon ignored it as he followed the Wildling leader and Ygritte down the slope towards the Wildling camp. As they walked through the camp, he quickly realized this wasn't truly a war camp as among the men there were nearly double as many women and children. While the Wildling women were a hardy bunch, he could see a few didn't have the fierceness that Ygritte had when they saw him. People quickly recognized his Night's Watch armor and cloak, muttering 'Crow' amongst each other. However a far more imposing and frightening sight walked…or more of stomped into view.
Jon had heard tales about the giants who lived this far north, towering creatures that could stand up to fourteen feet tall. The bearded one that passed by carried tree sized mammoth tusks as if they were planks was a prime example of its kind. Gaunt squished face, small beady eyes almost covered by folding flesh and a half-snarled mouth with flat brick shaped teeth. It was dressed much like the Wildlings only simply many times larger in scale. The biggest different though was leather straps that were its shoes since the creature's feet became wide and flat like a tree trunk.
"First time you've seen a giant Jon Snow?" Ygritte chuckled, enjoying the amazed look on Jon's face as the giant dumped the tusks to the ground with a loud clatter.
"Aye…though I've heard plenty of tales from a friend of mine." He muttered back to her.
Curious, she'd smirk. "Really now? Was he giant slayer as well?"
This time it was his turn to smirk back at her. "Yes in fact and the best swordsman I've ever met. He's hunted a few giants and other creatures all on his own." He had mentioned Geralt, though not by name, to the spearwife during their time together…which so far had been with him or her being the other's captive.
She rolled her eyes at the claim, nudging him along as the giant seemed to give an annoyed grunt with them staring at him. "Such the naïve Crow. It takes a dozen toughed men to take down a giant, normally with half of them dying."
He didn't try arguing on the matter though already he was understanding the story Geralt had shared about the frost giant he had hunted. Tough and big as they were, they still had tendons and muscles that if cut correctly would cripple the limb. Just mattered if you could avoid being crushed though…
"Alright we're here boy." The Lord of Bones growled as they reached a larger tent, opening the flap for the group.
Jon paused as he looked to Ghost who had been following silently, the direwolf looking up at him. "Wait outside boy." He said, rubbing his companion's head before entering the tent."
The inside was dimly lit, the only light being from the cracks within the harden leather tenting and the small campfire set in the center. For the home for the King-Beyond-The-Wall, he had expected more comfortable surroundings since this was quite basic considering.
By the fire were two individuals, one being a messy red haired and bearded Wildling. While he wore the usual winter garb, he was quite broad and imposing in size. In his hand he had food wrap filled with some kind of meat, which he nosily chewed on. The second man was a Thenn who had no ears on his head. The earless warrior was by far the best armed out of the Free Folk Jon had seen, having bronze scaled armor along with a helm and a sturdy weirwood spear crowned with an ornate spear tip.
The red-haired warrior took another bite from his meal before at last speaking to the group. "Hmm…I smell a Crow. Young one at that." He muttered.
"We've killed his friends and thought to bring him here for questioning. The boy claims he's interested in joining our cause." The Lord of Bones explained back.
"And what would we want with a baby crow. We know enough about his ilk."
At this point Ygritte spoke up. "This baby crow killed Halfhand…course with a little help with his pet outside."
The name of the ranger made the Wildling glance up hearing the veteran ranger's name. Standing up, the man was nearly a head taller than Jon, though he kept a passive look as the ginger loomed over him. "That half-handed cunt killed friends of mine, friends twice your size."
"My father told me big men fall just as quick as little ones if you put a sword through their heart. Halfhand was just the same…and he had it coming after the mess he got us in."
The man smirked at the remark, taking another step closer now. "Plenty of little men have tried to put their swords through my heart and there are plenty of little skeletons buried in the woods." There was a tense pause as the two stared down each other. "What's your name then boy."
"Jon Snow…" He muttered back. "So then…where is Mance Rayder?"
A low chuckle escaped from the Wildling as he'd place one strong hand on Jon's right shoulder, gripping down on it tightly. "What makes you think that Jon? Think I'm not kingly enough?"
Jon smirked back despite the growing ache coursing through his shoulder. "Because I doubt you could convince the sorry lot outside to follow you. Don't have the wits for it." He grunted as the hand squeezed harder, though in turn his hand grasped at that sturdy forearm. "No…your Mance's guard dog. The perfect decoy to keep a blade off his back."
For a moment he thought the man was going to head butt him from how he was craning his neck, until a calm commanding voice suddenly spoke up. "Calm yourself Tormund."
From the shadowy back of the tent, another flap parted as a figure stepped out into the light. Mance was a tall and slender man, rivalling even Tormund's height. He was dressed in a mix of clothing more fitting of the lands south of the Wall, gray wool clothing and dark brown leather with a faded black green cloak on his shoulders. His face while gruff was fairer than the Wildling men, hinting at him having some heritage from the south side of the Wall. In one hand he held an aged lute, though it seemed well maintained under his care.
Tormund didn't look back at Mance, though he did obey as he let go of Jon's shoulder. He had a wicked grin on his face as he stepped back to sit down while the real King-Beyond-The-Wall approached Jon. "A lot more perceptive then I expected Jon."
Rubbing his sore shoulder, Jon nodded slightly back. "Learned a lot as of late. Tricks from friends and foes alike."
"You do show surprising cunning for a bastard of Eddard Stark." He remarked back before glancing over to the Lord of Bones. "Thank you for bringing Jon to me Lord of Bones. Go get your group food and rest, tell the cooks extra rations for tonight."
Only giving a grunt and nod, the bone covered man turned to leave with Ygritte's following along. She did pause at the tent flap to glance back at Jon, who in turn looked back at her. For a short moment their eyes met, making him glance down before leaving the tent and drawing a low chuckle from Mance.
"The girl likes ya and I can tell you like her back, Snow." The remark did draw a faint blush across the young man's face, though he didn't respond back. "Is that a reason why you wish to join us?"
Right now Jon knew he had to choose his words carefully, making him hesitate instead of quickly answering back. Tormund spoke up first as he moved up beside Mance. "This isn't the damned Night's Watch where we make you swear off girls." Walking past Jon, he stood behind the young man, watching him intently.
"Some proper introduction. This 'guard dog' here is Tormund Giantsbane, who represents quite a few tribes camping outside."
Jon nodded in understanding. "Seems you've rallied all of the Wild- I mean Free Folk to your cause."
"Heh…what's left of us." Tormund muttered under breath.
Mance did give a short glance to Tormund to be quiet before looking back to Jon. "So then Jon, what are your reasons for betraying the Night's Watch and what can you offer to support us?"
Jon was silent for a moment as he did see the Thenn tapping his fingers across the white shaft of his spear, no doubt wanting an excuse to gut him right then. "Because everything that has led up to me being here has been based on lies." He stated, drawing a curious look from the Wildling King.
"Lies?"
Jon nodded. "My father and my uncle Benjen filled my head with the image of the Watch being an honorable group. A place I'd be accepted despite being a bastard, where I could be free to forge my own path though honest effort."
"And what did the Watch turn out to be?"
A deep frown showed on Jon's face. "A dumping ground for criminals and the unwanted. Men who aren't there for a just cause but to avoid the consequences they or others have made." In a way he was venting his feelings towards Mance who continued to listen closely. "True there are decent men in the Watch such as the Lord Commander Mormont and friends I have made, yet for every decent man there are two more backstabbers such as Thorne."
The mention of the Master-at-arms drew an amused smirk from the Wildling King. "So you understand what I've experienced myself." Gesturing to the campfire, he took a seat with Jon sitting across from him with Tormund looming behind him. "The Night's Watch is barely able to manage itself along with the fact the Kingdoms have little interest in their situation, except for your father of course."
Jon gave a questioning look. "How do you know that?"
Mance gave a small knowing smile as he tested the string of his lute before adjusting the tuning. "Let's just say I personally go off to learn such things. Risky yet very rewarding. Besides, it had been quite a long time since I enjoyed a real Northerner feast."
More confusion showed on Jon's face as he thought over Mance's words. Then it just clicked for him as he looked at the lute then over the man himself. "Wait…I remember you now." He muttered in shock. So many months ago at Robert's feast in Winterfell, he remembered some nameless minstrel who had showed up, having quite the talented singing voice. It had been Mance Rayder who had snuck his way over the Wall just to spy on everyone. "Gods…you were right there under everyone's nose…Benjen…"
Mance laughed out in amusement at Jon's surprise. "Seems you also have a good memory to be able to recognize me. Everyone always remarked that I'm quite plain in appearance, helps me blend in." Smirking, he strummed the lute before giving an approving nod. "However information beyond the Wall flows much better than you think. I have connections such as Free Folk who have blended in and Night's Watch who support me. Our ears only go so far south, but impressive considering our limitations."
Jon nodded in agreement. "Then that means I can't tell you much more if you're already so informed."
"Aye true…" Mance's gaze drifted up from his lute to look right at Jon, a cold calculating gaze. "Except we haven't settled what you want Jon."
"What I want?"
The man nodded. "You've shared your grievances about the Night's Watch. How it has long lost its virtues along with forgetting it's real purpose." Those last words struck true to Jon, since even he knew what 'purpose' the man meant. "Yet despite your issues, you haven't told us what YOU want. So…tell us."
Jon didn't answer as he pondered over those words…the same thing Geralt and even Tyrion had said. Sighing, he'd clasp both hands together before at last speaking. "I want to be free of it all. Being branded a bastard…bound to my oaths in the Watch. No ties to anything but by my choices and will!"
With that declaration the tent was silent except for the whistling of wind outside. Mance gave a smirk before setting his lute aside to lean on the stump seat beside him. "True freedom. Something that is near impossible in this world." He muttered. "If you didn't say it with such certainty…I'd think you were a fool, a boy lying just to be a hero." Gesturing to Tormund, he spoke out to the man. "Get more of that chicken and any drink for us. Good conversation requires such things."
The Wildling gave an annoyed look to Jon before nodding at the order, heading to the back space of the tent to get what was needed.
"So…does that means you're letting me join?"
"It means I won't be having Styr back there string you up." Mance casually stated, giving a nod to the smirking Thenn. "You may have claimed to not know anything worthwhile to us, but there are a few questions I have to ask."
Tormund returned with plates of chicken and some ale skins…though he too had a meal for himself. Taking a seat close by, noisily chewing into his meal while keeping that glaring gaze on Jon. "As you wish…though may I be bold to ask one question of you."
"Oh this boy has balls." Tormund chuckled with his mouth full.
Mance though nodded. "Fair enough. Ask, within reason of course."
"What is this all about? You uniting the tribes and sending Free Folk over the Wall." He calmly asked. "I've ran into your scouts before I even arrived at the Wall, wild eyed and desperate. What is driving you all to brave the Wall along with the hostility of the Kingdoms?" He paused as he let those words sink in. "It's not ambition…you don't seem the type for grandstanding rulership. It's not hatred because you'd just have had me killed for who I served. So what is it?"
The Wildling King didn't answer as he took a drink from his ale skin with a sigh. "Survival." He simply stated, a dark look showing in his eyes. "The Land of Beyond the Wall are buried. Spring and summer are practically gone in recent decades; thus crop and game thins." He took another drink. "Then the storms started and the dead-"
"Are rising again." Jon finished.
Mance smirked a bit. "Oh I've heard of your case in Castle Black. The Free Folk always had to deal with Them. We did it like Craster does, offering a babe to Them and in turn they leave us be." He paused as he had a distant look in his eyes. "I don't know when or why, only that they want us dead now. They have countless ways to do it and for everyone that falls, it adds to their numbers."
"So you plan to get everyone over the Wall? You know that is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible Jon. I didn't become King-Beyond-the-Wall without having a plan." Mance stated. "Point is we stay here, we'll all die. Every man, woman and child we get south will deny Them another body for their army. For every life preserved among the Free Folk, is a victory over the White Walkers."
Jon wanted to ask more, know just what the White Walkers truly were or not. However he felt he was testing the man on just how much he could learn at once. "Then to the living then." He'd take a swig from his ale skin, cringing a bit from how strong it was but swallowed it anyway with a gasp. "Ugh…so…what did you wish to ask me?"
"About a certain individual. Someone who even during my visit to Winterfell perplexed me." Taking a bite of his chicken, he continued to speak. "Tell me everything you know about Geralt of Rivia…this White Wolf…"
…
Notice: Bet you didn't expect Jon to make a comeback after so long. Considering it has been over twenty plus chapters since Geralt left him at Castle Black, it seemed like a good time to see how he has changed so many months later. Plus it was a good way to introduce some of our favorite Wildling characters.
More side character POVs with the next focus being towards the Lannisters as they make some unlikely alliances that can turn everything into their favor. Then we'll be back to Ciri and Dany as the schemes of the Warlocks truly begin.