Alfred: Chapter 19
It was the morning of the Starks' departure from Gotham. The sun had decided to rise to send them off. A final apology for their distress these last few days it would seem, Alfred though. Bruce and Lord Stark had returned from Ser Gordon's company in rather sad spirits the night past, having discovered the men responsible for Arya's capture were in Hugo Strange's care in Arkham Asylum. Eddard was fuming, Bruce on the other hand had kept a calmed mind.
"They kidnap my daughter and Tywin's lackey has the gall to take her captors into his care without allowing visitors? Who does the man think he is?" Ned raved when they were within the safe stone walls of the cave. Bruce was sitting in his chair with his fingertips joined together at his lips in a steeple, deep in thought. It took Eddard calling Bruce by name twice to stir him from his thoughts. Arya and Dick were dancing with blades in hand on the flattest stone island in the cave's northernmost corner. Their steel clanged at every kiss and echoed off the cave's rounded walls.
"There is nothing more you can do, Ned. Strange has them, I'm beginning to wonder if he too isn't involved in this plot. Meeting with Nigma today confirmed our suspicions. The man thinks himself as wise as the Crone it would seem, but flaunts it like a boy proving his manhood. He surely suspects me of being Batman, his little riddle proved as much. They'll surely kill them, to prevent them from speaking of the dark secrets that they know," Bruce stated plainly.
"Damn Nigma, and damn Strange. I want to look the lot that took her in the eyes and make them tell me who paid them off," Ned growled as he sat across from Bruce, helpless.
"I will let things calm, give the Lannister men and Strange a week or two of peace of mind, and sneak in under the cover of night."
Ned shook his head. "You said yourself, they'd surely be dead by that time."
Bruce winced in pain as he stood, gripping his leg with a grunt. "No, they're the only captives held within Strange's prison walls. If they were to go missing or found dead, it would bring suspicion to him, should he be involved. And with Gordon gaining another thousand or so men, he will have the manpower to storm the place should Strange refuse him. They'll hold another few weeks, a month even most likely. They'll surely be on high defense now, expecting me. I'll let them tire, eventually they'll grow weary of standing there all night in the gloomy halls by themselves and might leave their place for an hour seeking company or simply to complete rounds of the halls. That is when I'll strike. Do not fret Ned, I'll find the truth of this plot."
There had been no more quarreling of the matter after that. Ned and Bruce stayed up another two hours talking over everything from tales of Ned and Thomas' youth to the matter of King Robert's peril from the threat of the Lannisters. Dick and Arya fought tirelessly on the other side of the cave until Ned finally rose and called Arya to bed. They were to leave early in the morning, as to avoid the eyes of anymore possible child thieves, or worse. Alfred would occasionally leave the cave and traverse up to Lady Sansa's quarters and sit and watch her sew. He felt distressed leaving the poor girl up in her chambers all day by herself. With Arya becoming privy to Bruce's secret he had allowed her down so long as Alfred or himself were present. Despite Bruce saying he would not train the girl, Dick had taken up the task with spirit and practiced with her from midday to when Lord Eddard called on her for bed.
The night past, Sansa and he had discussed weddings and princes. Alfred told her of the beautiful Dornish weddings he had attended in his youth, and of the time he had seen Prince Rhaegar at a tourney in King's Landing. Of his flowing white hair and deep violet eyes, and how skilled he was with a blade and knowledgeable with his mind. Sansa had listened with rapt attention, she loved tales of noble knights and happy endings so. With the Starks to bed the cave had grown quiet. Dick, Bruce, Lucius and Alfred all sat around Bruce's large oak table and shared a glass of wine, save for Dick of course.
"So Nigma gives you a bat riddle and you think he knows who you are?" Lucius asked.
Bruce nodded in response. "Subtlety is not an art Edward Nigma is skilled in, intelligent as he may be. It is rather cunning, painting sell swords up to appear as Joker's men. Since he's still alive, it appears Joker wasn't overly trifled by the matter. I know not whether that bodes well for us or ill."
"If the Joker favors it, I'd wager ill," Dick said, balancing one of his steel poles on his finger. Bruce snatched it from his grasp before the boy could so much as blink. Swiftest cripple I have ever seen, to be sure.
"The Joker and Nigma shall hold until the morrow. Master Bruce. I believe it is time for Batman and Robin to get some rest. The Starks leave early in the morning, and I would think not that their hosts wish them to have exhaustion in their eyes when they depart." Rather than argue, Bruce chuckled and nodded in agreement. He led the boy up the pathway and out of sight shortly thereafter.
"Quite a pair those two make don't they?" Lucius asked, finishing his wine. Alfred smiled a wide, sincere smile and nodded. They certainly do.
Alfred had slept peacefully and undisturbed through the night, and now as he pulled back the curtains in Thomas Wayne's study to let the morning light wash over the room, he felt more at peace than he had in quite some time. He turned to face this former master's marble bust. A good morrow to you Thomas. For nearly fifteen years after Thomas Wayne's death, Alfred would always call him Master Thomas in his mind whenever he thought of his late lord. But now, with Bruce beginning to bring about a light of hope in this city and Alfred's growing peace of mind with the young man's decision, he could finally let that go. He thought of Thomas fondly, but now he viewed them as equals, no longer lord and servant, but brothers, fathers to a single son. Equals, but that is how you always viewed us isn't it, old friend. And now, your son is mine to care for, I am no father in league with you, but I try with every muscle in my body to do what you would have wanted me to do. Alfred rubbed his hand over the smooth top of Thomas Wayne's marble head.
"I miss his wisdom most days." Alfred heard from behind him. He turned to face Lord Eddard as he stepped into the room to gaze upon the marble head. The Northern lord smiled as he looked upon the likeness of his old friend. "I could use his words now more than ever," Eddard finished.
"You are not alone in that, my lord," Alfred agreed. The two of them stared at the marble head for a few minutes in silence, both wondering how things would be different should their friend still be alive today. When Alfred had had his fill of the unmoving white eyes, he placed a hand on the Lord Hand's shoulder. "Lord Stark, I wish to show you something." Eddard nodded apprehensively.
Alfred led him out into the hall and through the main doors to the open air. The morning was cool, shadows still coated the yard in darkness as the sun just began to poke above the far off horizon. Alfred turned right and paced off along the castle. A small stone structure stood fifty paces from the castle's south-most corner, right where the high grass began to sprout serving as buffer between the trimmed grass and the towering castle wall that formed a U around the castle's front and ended at the cliff's face to its rear. The structure was a darker shade of stone than the castle, almost purely black as opposed to the dusky onyx hue of the castle's bricks. There was a single iron door permitting entrance to the small little structure that was no bigger than a privy. As Lord Eddard grew closer however he walked to its side to see that the structure's rear angled itself into the ground.
"A tunnel," he remarked. Alfred said nothing. As he reached the door, Alfred looked up to the stone creature overlooking the entranceway. While the castle's roof had gargoyles gnarling their teeth or raising their claws to the sun, this passageway was guarded by a large iron bat with outstretched wings. Alfred opened the door and led his guest beneath the ground.
When they reached the end of the slate stairs, a row of marble figures lined the right side of a long tunnel that's end was shrouded by darkness. Alfred took a torch from its stand and led Lord Eddard into the tunnel to show him what he had intended. The light of the fire danced off of the white faces as they passed, making their eyes appear alive if but for a passing moment. There was always a man and woman side by side, holding hands. Lord Darius and Lady Alarya, Lord Solomon and Lady Dorothea, Lord Kenneth and Lady Laura, Alfred recounted as they passed the figures. Bruce was the ninth generation of Wayne to live in this castle, and most of his ancestors' remains now laid here. There were spaces left abandoned however. As they passed the first, Alfred remembered the tale of Mad Anthony Wayne and the horrors he had committed in his lifetime. They never did find the body in the bay.
"A tomb, such as Winterfell's. For the final resting places of the Waynes. Winterfell's however has only the lords, save for my sister," the Northern Lord commented as they walked down the stone corridor. Their footsteps echoed, telling the rats of their coming and making them scurry off as the light grew closer. As they reached the end of the catacombs, the Waynes grew more and more familiar. Lord Patrick and Lady Etylia, and now… Alfred stopped before the last two statues in the chain of marble Waynes. Thomas' mustache looked as finely kept in stone as it was in life. Martha's hair was carved back into a bun as she often kept it when she lived. Their eyes reflected the caring that they showed in life as well. The stonemason should have been paid in gold for accomplishing that feat.
"Why did you wish to show me this?" Lord Eddard asked. Alfred gave a meager smile, trying to appear pleasant. "It is not the likenesses of my former lord and lady that I wish to show you Lord Eddard. It is this."
Alfred took another few steps to their left, halting in front of the empty void yet to be filled to Thomas and Martha's right. "What do you think of Bruce's quest now Lord Stark?"
He did not turn to face the Lord Hand, but Alfred was sure he had a look of confusion showing in his brow and eyes. "I am not sure what to make of it, as of yet. He can do more than Ser Gordon and his men to be sure, but it comes at such a cost…He should not be placing the boy in harm's way, whether Dick thinks he wishes this path or not. He is but three-and-ten! Not old enough to know what paths lay before him!"
Alfred turned to face him now. "And Bruce was but nine. I have not come to plead with you to understand Bruce's decisions. I support him in allowing the boy to take up the mantle of Robin. Do I wish for a day when they will not need their masks and capes? By the Seven yes, yes with every last wisp of flame in my soul, but fate has thrown its dice. Will that day come? I cannot be sure. Perhaps Bruce will find a woman that will be magnificent enough to draw him from that dark cave of his. Perhaps he will succeed in his mission to save the city, and be able to retire his cape with dignity and a sense of achievement. Or maybe, one day a criminal will get the best of him, or he won't move quick enough, Dick won't be there to take on the one thug Bruce turned his back to, and he will end up here." The servant gestured to the empty space before them.
Ned gave an abrupt wave of his hand in frustration. "It's his own blindness that prevents him from moving on. Whether you support him or not Alfred, I cannot support him putting a mere boy in the way of danger such as this."
"Is it so different from boys going off to war for a lord they have never met? For glory they will never receive? For an early grave they do not want?"
The lord took a step back and wiped his brow. He is a good man, with a strong heart. Ned spoke, "I cannot speak for other boys. War is old men talking, and young boys dying. I am well aware of the fact, but boys seeking glory is one matter, boys running from anguish is another. Dick is not dealing with the loss of his parents, he is hiding beneath a mask just as Bruce has. Were it my sons…"
Alfred cut him off briskly. "But it is not your son Lord Eddard. If I may speak plainly my lord, you worry over your sons, and I will worry over mine. Bruce is as precious to me as he was to his own mother and father. I swore to them I would protect him, and I am striving my hardest to not fail them! And Dick, such a sweet boy. Of course I did not want Bruce's life for him, but he has chosen it and I must deal with it as best I can. If I must make a vow to his dead parents I shall, but I will try my hardest to protect him as if he were my own.
This space in front of us, this is where this path leads. If Bruce continues on down this path he will be here with no heirs, no women to miss his touch, no city that will cry at his passing. They will mourn the Batman, but no one will know how great the man behind that pointed helmet was. How beautiful of a child he was, how honorable and determined his soul was, how wise and quick his mind was. They will only know the legend, and only I shall mourn the man behind it. Your daughters and sons, they will grow to be great lords, knights, and ladies. They will die beloved and with a family left behind to mourn and miss them with each passing day. Do not be frustrated with his decisions for his life, simply be glad that they are not your sons that will end their lives alone down here," Alfred finished. He was panting, not realizing his voice had grown to a shout with his final sentences. Alfred collected himself and swallowed regretfully. "Forgive me my lord, I was out of place-"
Ned raised a hand for silence. "There is nothing to apologize for, Alfred. You were a father, defending the actions of his sons." The cold northern lord gave a small smile to show that there was no bad blood between them. The truth of it is…this man before me can see this all through my eyes better than any other man alive. They stood staring at the vacant space for what felt like hours, but in truth was closer to a few minutes.
Eventually they returned from the dark trench beneath the earth to the light of day, the sun now revealing more of itself as the day dawned. They found Bruce breaking his fast with the children with a hurriedly thrown together meal of bacon, eggs and bread. The bacon was burned, the eggs seemed runny, and the bread appeared stale. When Alfred raised his brow upon seeing the state of their meal, Bruce replied with a boyish smile, "The next time I mock you for your duties Alfred, you have my permission to give me a crack over the head." Alfred responded within a heartbeat with a loud smack to the back of his master's head. Bruce looked up in puzzled irritation. The Dornishman smiled. "My apologies Ser, merely making up for lost time and past mockeries."
They finished their meal and proceeded out to the wagon waiting for them. The twenty guardsmen that had come with them had been staying in a local inn but were now armored and ready to return the Starks to King's Landing safely. Alfred had wondered at first why the men did not simply stay in the castle, but after remembering the long reach of Lord Varys he had agreed with Bruce's thought to pay for their stay elsewhere. The Dornishman wondered if Bruce regretted his decision after Arya's kidnapping.
Alfred stood at the carriage's entrance to help the girls step up into the wooden cabin. Sansa gave him a hug and kiss on the cheek as he helped her step up. It warmed his heart, he had always wished the Waynes would have a daughter when they were alive. A lovely queen she will make. Alfred turned back to see Dick give a parting embrace to Arya. He whispered something in her ear to make her throw a fist to his shoulder. Alfred helped her step up to which he was replied with another hug. He turned back to see that Dick was somberly staring at the wagon, undoubtedly hoping that they need not return to King's Landing and could stay longer. He will be quite lonely without her here to cause trouble with. Alfred looked on as Ned and Bruce finally made their way to the carriage. Ned gave his host a warm embrace and let his head linger to whisper something in the young man's ear. Bruce smiled, not a fake smile as he had grown accustomed to emitting, but sincere. Such a pleasant sight. Ned gave him a final pat on his shoulder and left him to follow his daughters into the carriage's cabin. He approached Dick and knelt to give the boy a pat on the shoulder and spoke quietly enough that only Alfred could hear. "Stay strong Dick, one day you will cast a shadow that towers over other men, I'm sure of it. You have my sincerest thanks, for bringing my daughter back to me."
Dick remained speechless, mouth slightly gaping open. "Y-your welcome, my lord."
Ned smiled and stood, growing closer to the horse drawn carriage and finally to Alfred's side. He embraced the servant with strong open arms and whispered, "Thank you for your words Alfred. Thomas and Martha were right to leave the boy in your care. I know you will not fail." He leaned back to meet eyes with Alfred. Ned's two daughters were looking on curiously, so Alfred simply replied with, "It was a pleasure having you my lord, and you have my thanks for the kindness you have shown me."
Ned chuckled as he stepped into the cabin, "If I were Bruce, you would have replied with some quick witted jape and a hand to the back of my head. May you find peace of mind my friend." Alfred allowed himself a smile, "And to you as well, my lord."
The carriage pulled forward and off down the hill and out of sight. The three of them stood in silence and watched even after the carriage had dipped beneath the crest of the hill. The wind blew the tall grass lining the cobblestone path in waves, transforming it into a sea of grass parted by a flat stream of stone. Finally Bruce turned from the view, and began limping towards the castle. Dick followed a few moments later, running to catch up with Bruce as they passed beneath the castle walls and into the yard. Alfred lingered a few minutes longer, watching the sun rise and imagining he could see the Starks depart. You will be sorely missed here Lord Eddard Stark, you brought a ray of hope and warmth to this gloomy city. May your life be filled with the warmth you showed within Wayne Castle's walls. Alfred finally turned with a kind-hearted smile and followed his masters back to their castle on the hill.
Selina: Chapter 16
A week had passed since the Starks had left Gotham. Thieves still stole, rapers still raped, killers still killed, and the city pressed on as if nothing had changed. But Selina knew changes were mounting on the horizon, to crash into the valley like the waves of a flood. Gordon was strengthening his forces, by greater than a thousand men if the local rumors could be believed. Lord Wayne had graciously bestowed more gold upon him, after the Stark girl's kidnapping blunder. Both the Lannister men and Gordon's failed at saving the girl and capturing the Batman. They were rewarded for their efforts with scratches, bite marks, and an assortment of infections. She knew Batman had tricks in that belt of his, but even a way of summoning a horde of bats seemed unbelievable.
Then there was the boy. The one that was rumored to have beat the lot of Arya Stark's kidnappers and rode off into the night with the girl safely in hand. They had not been seen since that night. Batman was probably nursing his wounds, a man doesn't survive a burning building and troop of Lannister men without taking a few wounds. It was said the boy wore bright colors, red and green and yellow as opposed to Batman's black and gray. What an odd pairing they make.
Selina's mind had been troubled less and less by the comings and goings of Batman. Aside from that night, he had only stopped by twice before, once for any word of Joker's location and the other for if there was any word from the brothels of the Lannister men. To both requests she had nothing to give. In her recent forays into the night she had been in her black leather garments and more concerned with lords' priceless belongings than the talk on the street. She felt more like herself now. She was Selina again, no longer the weak shell of a girl she had become in that cell after Holly's death. In truth, she felt as if she was still shackled in a cell during the day, and only felt free at night when running amongst the rooftops and shadows.
In truth she had heard some words of the Lannisters' doings, but did not feel like sharing it with tall, dark and icy. They had taken the men that kidnapped Arya Stark into Arkham, but had not seen them since. None were allowed to see them save for Hugo Strange himself, the warden behind Arkham's dark iron gates. Selina found it strange, but paid no more mind to the matter.
Last night she had stolen from some drunken smugglers on their way back from an alehouse. A few of them had tried to put up a fight, but their sluggish movements proved no match for her quick, feline reflexes. A heel to one's groin, a whip's lash to another's face, slamming the last two's heads together, it was child's play. They didn't have much, a few gold coins, some silver, a rather costly ring forged to appear as a serpent constricting the bearer's finger. It keeps my children and I fed.
Selina opened the wooden shudders to her window letting the sun cascade in. It washed over the creaky floorboards, the dusty tabletop, and the silk beddings and sheets. Her cats stirred, stretched, and mewed out in a collective crying wail at the sudden light. Selina smirked and looked back to them. "Oh hush, the lot of you, the suns been up for nearly three hours now. Our day begins," she retorted as she looked out at the street below. Her abode as at the end of the street, with the surrounding buildings used for storage for the smiths of the next street over. Few people came down this far, leaving her to herself most days, and with no onlookers at night when she returned. As she gazed out upon the cobbled streets and grey bricked or wooden buildings, she saw a rare oddity. There between the rows of buildings lining the street was a man slowly approaching, his shadow stretching twenty paces ahead of him. Selina's brow piqued. This can't be good. She moved to her bedside drawer and pulled out her dagger.
When she opened the door on the first floor and gazed out upon the street, the stranger was but thirty paces from her. She held the dagger behind her back, in case she might have need of it. Yet to be seen how much good it will do me, she thought as she noticed how large her stranger was as he neared. He wore a plain wool tunic and breeches, toting a full burlap sack over his shoulder. He was a tall man, seemingly as tall as Batman, with a thick black beard covering his lower face and most of his neck. His arms were thick, his chest was rather broad, and yet he still had a certain sleekness to him. Matching jet black hair coated his scalp and fell down to cover his forehead in matted curls. As the man grew closer, Selina could see both his skin and hair were coated in sweat, he had been walking for quite some time. Finally he stopped before Selina at her doorway, letting his bag drop to the street and breathed a sigh of relief. Selina could see a golden linked chain around his neck dipping down beneath his tunic. That looks valuable.
The man wiped the sweat from his brow and tossed his hair back before speaking. "Good day m'lady, I was wondering if I might be able to stay a few nights here. I'm to take a ship down to Oldtown, but that's still a week away. I can't afford to sleep in the inns but a lovely woman on the street pointed me here. I can pay you what I can, or I can work my way if that's what you require."
Selina put the back of her hand up to her mouth and chuckled behind it. "And what if I say no, ser? This is no inn, this is my home. I do not take on guests to stay the night, especially some sweat addled stranger, to dirty my home. So I must sadly decline."
The man smiled, a genuinely sincere smile at that. A rare sight in this city. She paused a moment and continued, "You're not from around here I gather."
The stranger nodded. "Aye m'lady, just arrived this afternoon. I was lucky enough to hitch a ride from a traveling merchant on his way to Highgarden and rode with him there. Sadly, I had to walk the rest of the way to this fine city."
She laughed without minding social niceties to the comment. "You surely aren't from Gotham if you find it fine. Why here? Why not try and stay in some smith's stead and work for him for a week. I have no chores that need tending to here, so I have no use for you unfortunately. Surely you weren't attempting to warm my bed were you, ser?"
The man's cheeks reddened slightly as he shook his head. "No m'lady, but you were false. I can see things that need tending from here. You have some loose shingles on your roof that will leak, should they not be repaired soon. The frame of this window to my right is loosely nailed and could easily be pried off. I'm sure there's more inside that could use a hand as well. Smiths have boys to apprentice for them and do their bidding. They have no need for a weary stranger. You on the other hand, a strong, independent woman like you surely would never go to another man for aid. So here I am, coming to you," he finished with a smile. He has a beard, a smile, those same bright blue eyes…could he be?
She leaned closer to inspect him, but ultimately determined he was not Batman in disguise as he was all those nights ago when Holly had attacked him. "Who are you?"
"Simply call me traveler, or ser, or whatever you prefer, m'lady."
Selina scoffed, "If you are to stay you will refrain from calling me m'lady.' It makes me sound as if I were an old hag. I do not know why men insist on using such social idiocies. Women have names, you can surely use them. Mine is Selina."
"Selina. Well I shall call you as such from now on. So when shall I begin?" Whenever the stranger smiled, his already well-defined cheek bones tightened even further, his teeth were blindingly white. His teeth are too white, he smells, and he appears as a sweaty pig, so long as he does his work I'll tolerate him.
She returned his smile with one of her own. "Immediately."
Bruce: Chapter 25
Fifteen years, that cannot be. Bruce slid his arm through his finest satin doublet, trimmed with cloth-of-gold and his family's sigil flapping upon its breast. He moved to the bedside table, wincing in pain as the weight slid onto his injured leg. He could walk with greater ease now, but had a few days yet before he would be running across rooftops. He lifted from the table a small metal badge and held it up into the sunlight to look upon it. It was a small, rounded tin emblem, as wide as two of his fingers. The bat of House Wayne was carved into it, with an outer circle rounding its perimeter. Words were etched into the border; From the Wall to the Jade Sea, the sun will not set on you, my son. It was a gift from his father on his seventh nameday. Thomas Wayne had had it forged after Bruce's friend, Harvey Dent's, mother had died. Bruce grew worried of what would become of him should one of his own parents die. The gods were cruel beings, as the question became more a realistic, than a hypothetical, worry a year later.
He took up his cane and proceeded out of his chambers and down the marble stairwell to the front doors where Alfred and Dick stood waiting. Dick was dressed finely as well, a matching doublet covered his torso but had the robin of Grayson stitched into it. Alfred was also at his finest, wearing his best black doublet and paired waistcoat that Thomas Wayne had gotten as a gift for his old friend before his death. Dick's face was riddled with confusion, but he stayed himself from asking for what occasion they dressed so finely for. Alfred's face on the other hand, was chiseled from stone, his brow tight, his lip unwavering, and his eyes not leaving Bruce as he descended. I know your pain as well old friend, I have not forgotten.
When Bruce arrived at the bottom of the stairs he nodded to Alfred and led them out through the doors and to the waiting carriage in the yard. It pulled forward and rolled under the castle wall's gate and down the hill towards Gotham. Bruce watched wordlessly as the fields of grass dancing off to the right side of the carriage blew in waves like an ocean of green. Hundreds of thousands of little blades shuffled against each other and rattled as the summer winds buffeted over them. In the distance the tall walls of the city could be seen lining the its limits. The walls were queer in concern to most cities', in that they had no particular shape. Most city walls surrounded the city in a circle, or half-moon for ones on the shore. Gotham's however curved in and out, as his ancestor Lawrence Wayne had deemed fit. Lawrence was the third generation of Wayne to rule over Gotham since its founding in his grandfather's life. Bruce's father had told him that it was said that Lawrence was a rather odd fellow, choosing to build the walls in an odd configuration so as to best stretch and give the city room to grow.
On the landward side, the wall stretched from the northern end of the bay where the cliffs began to rise, out towards the city's center in an ellipse before it then grew rigid and followed along in a straight line. When it carried past the city's end, the wall continued on, shallowly bowing to and fro to accommodate the hills and forests of Gotham's southern end, where Wayne Castle resided. Lawrence's grandsire, Marcus, thought it best to continue the wall along, parting the woods in two and ending close to a quarter of a league from Wayne Castle's right. The halved woods meeting Wayne Castle's southern walls shielded the narrow entrance to the waterfall passage into the cave. On the opposite side of the castle, densely packed woods stretched out for near a half a league until the trees lessened where the city bricks and buildings began to sprout up. These woods were the ones to guard the tunnel entrance to the cave, and served as its quicker entrance but risked more attention. Bruce knew deer, rabbits, badgers, turkeys, foxes, and even a few boars still ran wild through the two groupings of woods that lay split by the grassy fields and winding path up to his castle. Any wolves had long since been hunted down and skinned.
Gotham's landward wall stretched for over two leagues, the longest single wall in Westoros. The bayside wall was roughly two thirds that length, curving from where the cliffs first rose up from the flat of the beach across the beach to the bay's opposite side where those cliffs started to rise as well. Towards the northern end of the bay the wall looped out into the water, where Amadeus Arkham had chosen to build his nightmarish castle so many years ago. The ports of Gotham were always bustling with merchants, sailors, weary travelers, exotic treasures, beasts and gold, and the smallfolk flocked to it like moths to a flame. The ports were Gotham's main feature, and the key to the Wayne's wealth. Other lords collected taxes from their people, the Waynes merely taxed the merchants that had come to Gotham in hopes of finding themselves a small fortune.
Since the Prince of Gotham's return, twice as many ships now held port in Gotham Bay, with room for twice that number still remaining. The city was slowly regaining its feet again, and soon would once more walk among the likes of Casterly Rock and King's Landing in terms of people and business. With more gold flowing in, Bruce would be able to grant Gordon at least another thousand men, some of which best be put on the wall. Gotham had long since left its landward walls to their own ends for most of its length. Now only a dozen or so men stood guard at its top, all stationed at points between or around the only two landward gates into the city. Gotham had not been challenged since Aegon's arrival at the city three centuries ago, and even then, Alan Wayne merely bent at the knee to spare his people, and willingly let Aegon and his sister wives walk through the streets to behold the city's dark beauty for themselves.
"Master Bruce, we're here," Alfred stated, pulling Bruce from his mental history lesson. Already? Fifteen years and I'm still not ready. Bruce silently nodded and stepped down from the carriage bed. Dick leapt down and landed as quietly as a mouse, while Alfred followed last and close the door behind them. He gazed up at the buildings, seeing how the dark stones had faded in his long absence. Or perhaps it is only my memory of this place, painting the scene so vividly with every recounting. Bruce shook his head and limped forward into the alley. Ten armored guardsmen sat on their horses behind the wagon in wait. Bruce argued vehemently against it, but Alfred thought that after the recent attacks and Joker's still unknown whereabouts that having guards would be the safest choice. As he entered the side alley, he remembered that night so many years ago. A young boy knelt but thirty paces from where Bruce now stood, two bodies sprawled out before him in peaceful eternal slumber.
The street they had just came in on was now titled Crime Alley, as it has sunken from its high stature from fifteen years ago into a desolate place where criminals came to hide from the wandering eyes of the law. This side alley was nameless, only forty feet long and now littered with rats and leftover or unwanted spoils, furnishings, or other useless and broken items. Where those bodies laid fifteen years ago however, that spot of slated stone was spotless.
Bruce turned back to his servant who only nodded in silence as he took the small wooden box from his hand and held it out to his lord. Bruce reached out, pausing as his fingertips brushed against the dark stained, smooth surface of the slender box. It was no wider then Bruce's wrist, and no longer than his forearm. He took the box from the Dornishman, turned silently, and limped over to the cleared spot of street stone. He knelt, pain slowly beginning to set fire in his leg, but he stayed motionless and determined. He opened the little box, folding its top back and setting it to the side as he took up its contents in his other hand. Two crimson roses, beautifully bloomed with luscious petals parting out like waves. More beautiful than that of the Tyrell's sigil. He held them by their stalks, and stared into them for a while before he felt a hand on his shoulder. Bruce did not need to turn to know it was Alfred; this day was just as hard for him as it was for Bruce. Dick stood over his left shoulder, silent in his solemnness as he now understood the reason for coming to such a dark, melancholy place.
Bruce laid the roses down upon the dark stone. He laid a hand on the stone feeling it drain the warmth from it before he finally struggled to stand. Alfred tried to assist him, but Bruce shook his head and found the strength to do it himself. He limped back to the carriage, his head hung low, his eyes never leaving the stone beneath his feet. Once the three of them were back in the carriage, it jerked forward and turned off, back towards Wayne Castle.
"Master Bruce, I believe there is something, more, to be done," Alfred finally said after ten minutes of silence. Bruce looked up to him. "And what more would that be, Alfred?"
"This day is a solemn one, and has been every single year I've been in that castle by myself. I'm sure it was the same for you, out in the world on your own, with no one knowing where and what you came from. I believe rather than simply sitting in silent remembrance and mourning, we should do something to give the people hope. They've had Tywin Lannister invade and take the city with an iron fist without so much as a drop of blood in the process. They have witnessed the violent murders of more than six centuries of men at the hands of a white faced madman. Rapes, murders, young Lady Stark's kidnapping! This city has seen so much bloodshed and turmoil these last six months alone…I think we need to hold a celebration. One celebrating how resilient the people of the city are!"
"And should the Joker arise to ruin the festivities as he did the last time a grand feast was thrown?" Bruce questioned. Alfred thought a moment before replying, "You said that the chests of poisonous gas he intended to let loose upon the smallfolk was truly heads, correct? And at the feast he only poisoned the Lannister men. Despite him being mad, Master Bruce, I don't believe he intends to kill Gotham people by the thousands. In his own way, I believe he was trying to deter outsiders from the city so that it remained his little grounds to play upon. Killing that many Gotham smallfolk? It would surely bring too much attention to himself, attention that he would not want."
He is trying to put himself in the mind of a madman. Careful old friend, do that too often and you may just lose yourself in it. "Very well, we will host a celebration three weeks from tonight. No feasting, no dispensing of wine or drinks. Have the people bring their own wine and ale, and those that can't…have Lucius oversee the brewing at an alehouse of his choosing, particularly one as far away from the Narrows as possible. And I want Gordon notified and as many of his men as possible present, or we'll take back our gift of gold. We'll provide music and entertainment, dancers, singers, and see if any fire breathers or jugglers are at port. If we are to do this, we will do it as such to keep the people safe."