JOHN I.
He had no knowledge of what the hell was happening around them or of the exact location of this mysterious island or country they were stuck in but one thing was certain for John, it was do or die. Abigail and the kid were of his utmost priority and he would do whatever it took to get them warm and fed. Promises of those exact things were a godsend to the gang, but the way the folk around here spoke, they would all have to see it to believe it.
XxXxX
Finding themselves on the open road it was a small entourage serving as escorts for the two individuals that Arthur and Charles had found and rescued from the local bandits. Dutch was riding up front as was Arthur, both of them side by side while John and Micah rode from the rear and the guests of honor were in the middle of the formation. The young girl wrapped herself tightly to the man, Sir Anton Porter as he called himself while the man controlled the reins on his horse. The girls managed to patch him up and stop the bleeding, but regardless of having been stabbed and sliced the man carried himself strong with nothing but pride. John didn't blame him, he had a young girl to protect and he was somewhat in the right to still be wary of them all.
"So Mr. Porter, what more can you tell us of this place, this…castle that we will be approaching soon?" Dutch spoke up.
"Castle." Arthur chuckled, he too was doubtful.
John was also doubtful of the whole tale they've been fed, but felt no need to add any words and just decided to listen further, "The Twins…a strategic structure by all means. House Frey built it back 600 years ago and for 600 years they have held onto it. Two towers on opposite ends of the Green Fork connected by a large stone bridge that took 3 generations to construct. The Freys may be a sour bunch that none of the other Great Houses respects nor desires to affiliate with, but they struck figurative gold by forcing a hefty toll on all who wish to cross the river."
"Sounds like they have found their calling then. Will we be forced to pay up on arrival Mr. Porter?" Dutch asked.
"I ain't paying shit." Micah raised his voice from behind.
"Do not fret, we won't be crossing. Lord Frey will welcome us and keep us safe by guest right after all my lord is a very important and wealthy man in the North, not even the Starks who for thousands of years have claimed the North have such infrastructure as the Manderlys do." Anton spoke further, all of their questions being answered, one at a time.
"Well that's all fine and dandy then. Let's just hope they don't get too curious around us…for their sake." Arthur said.
"How much further is this place anyhow?" John finally spoke up. They had been riding for some time now, the road was mostly empty except for a few rare occasions of a lone rider riding the opposite direction or stopping to relieve themselves. The sun was slowly descending, ready to hide on the other side and allow the moon to take its place in the sky.
"Not much longer now. We'll divert from the Kingsroad in about another mile, from there the Crossing will be on display in the distance." Anton replied.
As they rode on John took in the land, green fields were in view as the whole geography of the surrounding landscape changed the further they left the forest behind. They were definitely miles away from the coast now. Upon that realization a cold sweat crawled down his neck; Abigail and Jack, fending for themselves while here he was as a volunteer escort riding further and further away from them. For the first time he felt a type of way about leaving them behind and it was a feeling he did not enjoy very much. He just hoped that they would be done soon so he could return back to them.
"They better give us some wagons and sacks of food as a reward for helping the two of you. We have our own people to protect." John remarked.
"Pipe down Marston! Everything will work out just fine…hopefully that is." Arthur rebuked John's whining, but he sure understood what was in that head of his.
"Relax John…after all you are not the only one missing Abigail's... special presence here." Micah's sneering voice and provacative choice of words irked John deeply.
"One of these days that tongue of yours is going to be sliced off Bell."
"Don't get too emotional now John, I am merely joking, you should try it more often…your humor is dryer than cow shit in the summer."
John would have answered back but Dutch spoke above them both, "Enough you two! Stop giving our guests a bad impression of ourselves. Quit mouthing off and focus on the road and our surroundings, don't need two of my best fighters going down because of petty arguments."
"Sorry Dutch."
"Yes boss!"
John kept to himself, ignoring Micah and focusing on the road and their escorts as instructed. The sun was beginning to shine brighter, and very soon nighttime would follow. He really did hope that this whole trip was of worth. The people here may be speaking gibberish and might possibly be all loons in general, but at the very least they spoke English and were willing to help them out. They reached the road that broke off the Kingsroad and followed it under Anton Porter's insistence and directions. Soon enough they would reach this 'castle' and meet the family in charge of it. Anton talked negatively of them, but they were so used with dealing with ungrateful, smug bastards all the time. John had no worries about that.
XxXxX
"Holy shit…are you guys seeing the same as me?"
All four cowboys dismounted and marveled at the massive structures that connected the river it had been built on, pure gray stones with years of wear on its surface and many flags and banners hanging from its walls and rooftops. It truly was a castle, straight out of Jack's story books. Much activity was occuring in the front entrance. It was a massive iron gate with enough space in-between the bars to allow see through the inside and vice-versa. Many men in leather uniforms and silly looking leather caps stared at their group with suspicion, their hands latching on to the hilts of their sheathed swords while others carried spears.
"Heads up we got archers." Micah warned the others, the walkway just above the gate had around six men with their bows on the ready. John had faith in his marksmanship, but an arrow, many of them at once, was not something he was eager to test his skills against, especially out in the open like this.
"Well Mr. Porter." Dutch raised his hands up, never removing his eyes of the many men in front of them, "If you could kindly deescalate this unnecessary confrontation we find ourselves in."
"Dutch…I don't want to shoot these guys, but..." Arthur had one hand raised while his right one was resting on his gun as was John and Micha following cute.
"Open the damn gates, I am Ser Anton Porter of House Manderly alongside Lady Alara Manderly, niece of Lord Manderly of White Harbor. You will lower your damn weapons and let us pass!" Anton's voice boomed with absolute authority as he stood tall and unwavering before the Frey soldiers who now appeared submissive towards the group.
John looked around at his brothers, all of them ready to blast their way out of this situation if the man's words failed to break through, the young girl Alara hiding behind Morgan as he used one arm to protect her while keeping the other close to his sidearm. Arthur looked at John and gave him a knowing look, one he well understood and focused his sights on Dutch, ready to defend his mentor at a moment's notice if these men swung first. Micah on the other hand had a toothy grin and both hands on those precious guns of his, that violent madman was itching for some action, John only hoped it didn't turn into a full massacre as he looked back up at the row of archers aiming their arrows down at them.
"What the hell is all this ruckus about?" A man approached from the inside of the keep and met them at the gates. He was plump with a round face and forked beard and walked with a cane, his clothing much fancier and cleaner in comparison to these foot soldiers. He also appeared to hold some form of seniority over them, "House Manderly you say? This looks more like a rag-tag group of sellswords than an actual entourage for the proud Lord of White Harbor."
"Watch your tongue Lothar or I'll break that sniveling nose of yours. Your father could care less of your well-being and that's a fact." Anton glared at the man who flinched in anger at the unexpected insult.
"This best not take forever. My feet are hurting just standing still." John remarked to the others.
"Why you old senile bastard! I outta…"
"The hell is going on here Lothar?" Another man approached Lothar, this one was an old man wearing a black leather suit and a gray cape draped over his left shoulder.
"Ser Anton, is that you? You look terrible."
"Ser Stevron I must speak to your father and not this pathetic oaf of a brother you have and Lady Alara needs to be attended to immediately by your maester." Anton demanded.
"Alright lower your weapons ya idiots and let them in!" Dutch turned around to the others and shrugged at the whole exchange that occurred. John just rolled his eyes and began to walk inside this Keep with Arthur and Micah and the others as the iron gate was raised. Looks like they would be meeting this Lord Frey first hand, he wondered what that would be like? He's met all sorts of men, but an actual feudal Lord of a castle, that's a first. Then again there will always be a first for everything.
XxXxX
The main hall was large and wide. Only a few small narrow open spaces far close to the ceiling provided a shimmer of light inside while the rest of the hall was brightened by mounted torches and a massive iron chandelier holding over a dozen candles. The room was heavily occupied as John and the others made their acquaintances known to the man known as the Lord of the Crossing.
Upon closer look the man known as Walder Frey held nothing unique about him. To John's eyes he was just some old geezer with a ton of money, his garbs were not that fancy looking either. If the old man that welcomed them in was his son then Walder was a really old bastard, somewhere near his nineties if he had to guess the age and that dismissive, belittling smug stare that he was currently casting upon them was letting John know just the type of individual this man truly was. Surrounding him from both sides were extended members of the family; they had been told that Walder was like a rabbit, constantly breeding offspring from one woman to another and they all were unfortunate to share the same features as their patriarch.
'What a bunch of human looking weasels we have here.' John wondered as Dutch cleared his throat, ready to make introductions.
"Evening your lordship, we do thank you graciously for the hospitality of allowing my men and I to enter the halls of this marvelous structure of yours. It is truly a great pleasure." Dutch, always the excellent charmer, spoke in his flowery vocabulary.
"A pleasure you say? I'm close to a century old and that's the first time someone has said such a thing about my hospitality or my whole existence in general." Walder smirked.
"Well we are but mere strangers to this...Seven Kingdoms, we don't fully know the local gossip nor have an understanding of all the lords from North to South. As far as I may be concerned, you my good sir are an honest man for acknowledging our presence in your court." Dutch bowed his head, much to John and Arthur's internal groans and both resisted rolling their eyeballs at the display, it was always very embarrassing when he would try so hard to appease assholes.
"Is that so? You must be a bigger fool than I thought. But I do love having the company of fools, just look at all of my boys, a bunch of halfwits with no brains to compensate for." Walder happily insults his gathered sons, all of them unwilling to defend themselves, "The good thing about them are their cocks, the fastest way to keep spreading the family name."
John did not like this man already. He knew he had been a terrible father, but he would never go that far as to insult Jack in such a derogatory manner, everyone in camp would have taken turns slapping the idiocy out of him if he very did. He wondered when Dutch would get to the point and ask for the supplies, but seeing this man's behavior first hand it may not come so easily as to just ask for them. Arthur kept his cool, but John could see, feel the annoyance building up, eventually that smart mouth of his was going to unzip and he would say something cleverly insulting, that's usually how most of their saloon brawls ended up happening.
"Father, please no need for that." One of the sons finally spoke up for himself.
"Don't act so special now. You aren't my first born nor my second, you're near the bottom of the ladder and therefore politically worthless. If you had been a daughter I could have easily married you off for more money and influence." Walder snapped back at his adult son, scolding him as a mere toddler.
Walder ignored them and focused back on Dutch, clasping his hands together and appearing to think deeply, "Enough about me, what about you? I haven't heard your name yet."
"Dutch Van Der Linde at your services, I am a man of many hidden talents and said talents have kept me alive for so long as have my men here. We are just a group of dreamers and believers attempting to survive the impending future of our civilization." Dutch put on a smile, working his way to that old man's graces.
"Do your men have tongues? Speak up, you three."
"Arthur Morgan"
"John Marston"
"Micah Bell the 3rd…old man."
John wanted to bust his lips open with an elbow strike and Arthur was probably thinking of doing much more damage himself. The chamber erupted with uproar as the Freys demanded an apology or were simply reaching for their swords and daggers. John immediately reached for his own weapons as did Arthur, Micah only chuckled at the commotion he had conjured while Dutch attempted to mellow out the sudden hostilities. "Gentlemen, please forgive my friend. He was merely…choosing the wrong choice of words."
"Enough all of you! I've been getting insults behind my back for the past sixty years of my life, what difference does it make if someone finally has the balls to say it to my face. You there, you sure know how to rattle people's hearts." John saw Walder's crooked smile, of course this elderly prick would compliment a fellow dirty weasel. But it did go without question that such an insult wouldn't be forgotten any time soon.
"You four aren't carrying any weapons that I'm familiar with. Mind telling me what those are?"
"These small contractions are an invention from our homeland. You'll never find them here. Only we possess such devastating weapons." Dutch explained.
"How devastating?" Walder's curiosity was now evident.
"Enough to make an entire army run in fear once they've been used." Arthur added. John was not liking where this conversation was heading. Those weapons were theirs and Hosea had stated they would not give them up or trade them away so carelessly. He needed this conversation to return to its original topic.
"Listen, mister…Lord Frey." John sounded so stupid just saying that, "We do have a family of ours awaiting our return, they are defenseless and hungry and it would be of great help if we could be provided with provisions and a pair of wagons for the journey back."
"Right, right…we do have some gold for the exchange if that is what matters." Dutch said and motiones Arthur who reached for his satchel and pulled out a small bullion of solid gold, a piece of gold from their only source of income, "Enough to purchase a couple of wagons from your stables, they don't need to be of premium quality either."
"Fine." Walder grunted , but soon added another piece to the trade-off, "You'll get the wagons and some provisions, courtesy for saving Ser Anton and the young Lady Manderly…but I will request for one of those exotic weapons of yours to be given to me as well."
"Yeah, that's not happening." Arthur said.
The mood shifted to one of open hostility. The gang was and by their giving right unwilling to let go of their prized weapons so easily. They would have to be offered a castle of their own to even consider such a trade off and John knew that and he knew that Dutch knew it too. Arthur and Micah readied themselves as did John. Dutch remained calm, never breaking contact with Walder Frey. The old man now wore a resentful scowl, but Dutch seemed unfazed by it.
"You should really be more careful with your choice of words. We don't want unnecessary…violence do we now?"
"Good sir, if you knew us at all you would be wary of invoking such challenging words. Words are powerful weapons, because no matter how you say it they can create conflict as well tame it. Right about now…you've messed up this business arrangement of ours." Dutch lowered down his arms, both hands resting on his sidearms, the threat he channeled through, a valid response.
The Freys occupying the room encircled them, ready to attack them with their swords. John didn't hold back anymore and neither did the others, with quickened fashion all four men drew their weapons aiming them at the large group surrounding them. The Freys recoiled back, unsure of what damaging capabilities the revolvers possessed. The last thing John wanted was a massacre, so he hoped that Dutch was smart enough to call for a retreat, but lately the man has not been himself and all this exhausting stress of keeping the gang warm and safe must be borderline maddening. John feared for the worst as he looked over Dutch awaiting their orders.
"I should have expected as much from a band of criminals." Walder stood up from his chair with two of his sons shielding him from the sides, "As Lord of The Twins and House Frey all four of you are now arrested and relieved of your weapons."
Dutch focused his sights on the man, a strong conviction in his countenance, "Bad choice of words there mister."
"Kill them!" One of the men shouted out a command.
It was futile. John aimed down his sights and pulled hard on the trigger. The entire room was bombarded by the loud thunderous sounds of bullets being fired indiscriminately. Smoke filled up the hall as the four outlaws covered each other's backs, everyone else was either dead on the floor or backed up far away into the walls in a state of shocking fear. Around seven men had fallen to their gunfire. Walder and the rest of the Freys stood still, petrified by the power of said guns from which they had unleashed thunder and fire. Now having displayed the power of their weapons nobody dared approach them.
John aimed his gun at one of the Freys as Dutch spoke up, "You best drop your swords, friends, or more of you will join your fallen brethren here and now."
The standoff eventually came to an end. The gang was running out of the castle into the courtyard. The shouting of the guards alerted the entire perimeter as John and the others raced for the stables where their horses were being held. All around them men ran and yelled out at them, but refused to stop for no one. Arthur covered their backs as he turned around and sniped a couple of archers up on the rooftops before they had a chance to fire back. A horse rider with a spear throttled towards Dutch, John took quick aim and shot him in the shoulder, dropping the soldier off the horse.
"Time to go boys!" Dutch yelled out as he reached the stables first with Micah right next to him.
"Well this sure turned into a shit show real quick!" Arthur shouted.
The man known as Stervon had reached the gates amidst the chaos. The Frey soldiers were running for cover from the supposed lightning magic that the outlaws were firing at them. John took notice of the man as they all got on their horses, he also noticed that the gate was closed, no exit available for them to flee.
"Please stop this!" Stevron raised his hands.
Arthur jumped off his horse and tackled the elderly knight. Holding him at gunpoint he yelled at the others, "Tell 'em to raise the gates! Raise the goddamn gates!"
"They have Ser Stevron!"
"Hold your fire! Hold your fire!"
Arthur backed up against the gate, holding Stevron Frey hostage as the others backed him up. John covered Arthur's right side, keeping a sharp eye on all the soldiers gathered in the courtyard, there must have been over a dozen of them, all ready to strike yet hesitant to do so now that they've been exposed to the power of these new weapons. Dutch demanded the gate to be open immediately or else gave more unnecessary deaths. Micah was just satisfied to have gotten in a gunfight; a very one-sided gunfight. With their backs against the walls they held their ground, aiming their weapons at everyone. Arthur pressed the revolver against Stevron's temple, harshly demanding the elder knight to let them pass. John could see that the entire situation had gone up in flames and with their limited ammunition he saw no way out.
XxXxX
The gang was now resting by a small patch of grassland with a tall uprooted rock they used for cover. John was up on the rock scanning the nearby landscape with his binoculars as the others rested down below. The coast was clear, no large search parties composed of medieval knights in the area. Climbing back down he joined the others who were speaking to their hostage.
"So you are telling us that if we travel further east and follow this red fork river it leads us to this castle called Riverrun where the main lord that rules the region is at? And he will listen to our tales of plight?" Dutch looked down at Stevron who sat perfectly still nodding his head.
"Lord Hoster Tully is the Lord Paramount of the Riverlands, if…if you can convince him of your people's worth all is forgiven!...And he might perhaps allow you to become part of his bannermen too! My father will have no choice but to submit to the Tully's commands for their word was the law and the law was created by the Iron Throne!" Stevron spoke hastily, anxious fear present in the man's facial expressions.
"I dunno know about this Dutch, we're already too far inland. We need to get back to the others." Arthur leaned against the rock, watching the sun disappear in the horizon, darkness encroaching upon the land.
"I happen to agree with Morgan on this one Boss." Micah added to the conversation, "We just kidnapped the family heir and shot many of their men, best we race back to the gang and bail as far away from this spot. I enjoy a good fight, but we have a limit of bullets on us right now."
John listened to the man's advice and he was unsure himself about it. He could just be lying, stalling for time or leading them to a deadly trap. No one would believe them, they are foreigners after all, and just killed many soldiers and threatened the local big shot and took his oldest son hostage, no, there was no possibility of things simply being forgiven. Once again they were running from the law and they've only been in this country for a good two days now, what a stroke of terrible luck they've been plagued with for many weeks now.
Then his mind wandered back to his family. Abigail and Jack, two individuals he has sorely neglected for the better part of close to five years. John began to recognize that things had forever changed and with change came the need to adapt and embrace, and ideology Dutch was not too eager to engage.
John stepped forward so the others could acknowledge his presence, "Let's give it a shot."
"Marston, so easily fooled as always." Arthur shook his head.
"I am a fool, Morgan, but I know a good opportunity when it lands on my lap and this…while risky as it sounds, I'm willing to talk to this Lord Tully." The others listened to John's proposition as he looked directly at Dutch, "Dutch…this place…this entire…world, it's not ours. Something strange happened out there at sea and now we are here, surrounded by kings, knights and castles. We can strike it rich here. We are finally free in this type of society. It's a long shot I get that, but I have a wife and kid to look after and you have all of us to guide along."
The others mulled on his words, Arthur stayed quiet, still uncertain of the idea as Micah coughed out some spit, only Dutch was truly weighing out his adopted son's words. Stevron, who was still bound and listening to the entire conversation and just wanted to be set free and avoid getting executed, intruded with more words of advice, "With those strange, yet powerful weapons of yours and whatever intriguing knowledge you possess from your native homeland you could easily persuade Lord Tully. House Tully would become a powerful ally and their marriage alliances with House Stark and Arryn, by the Seven, you people are practically untouchable with three great houses vouching for you. And only the King himself could condemn your actions and petty squabbles…as violent as they may get at times it's all just a dull affair in His Majesty's eyes."
"What's the plan Dutch?" Arthur removed his hat and fixed his hair, "I'll follow wherever you choose to go, you know that."
I'm sorry for any possible grammatical spelling for I am sleep deprived.
The Boys have met House Frey and it did not go as planned. The adventure is just beginning.