We made landfall at Dragonstone Isle, a dreary, rocky place covered in sea fog. The sailors said that it was the old seat of the dragon kings before they were wiped out in the last war. From where we were, the island looked as dead as the dragons. We didn't get close enough to see the castle, our ships passed well to the north and the captains were under orders to steer clear. War might not have been declared yet, but sailing a fleet of mercenaries past a lord's castle was begging to start one.

"Spatter."

"Eh?" I looked up from my cards. Flint loomed over me.

"Ship approaching. Come on."

"Have a heart, Flint, I'm winning this hand."

Flint peered at my cards. "No, you're not."

I sighed and flung down my cards. "Spoilsport."

"Flint, you want to take his place?" Keelstone asked with a hopeful grin. Flint was a notoriously atrocious card player. It was hard to believe that someone could be with the Company as long as he had and still be that bad. If it wasn't for his black market partnership with Shambles, he would have been permanently broke.

"No." Flint grunted, turning away. I followed him towards the bow.

"So what's up?" I asked.

"Your friend's getting agitated." He pointed ahead to where the Lannister envoy was wearing a path in the planks.

"Hells, he's not my friend." I protested.

"Crap. You're the only one on this tub he allows within spitting distance."

He was right, unfortunately. Wallace Lannister, our employer's proxy, was the bitter second son of a bitter second son, prone to vent his frustrations on anyone who happened by. On this voyage he had quickly chased off anyone inclined to be friendly with his endless tales of woe. The Captain had bluntly suggested that I pump him for information, which was the only reason I willingly sought his company. He seemed to tolerate me, although whether this was due to my winning personality or to the fact that I always had a skin of wine on hand I leave to the reader's imagination.

"Wallace!" I cheerily greeted him. "You're looking excited this morning. Expecting company?"

He scowled by way of welcome and jabbed a finger at the oncoming ship. "First good fortune I've had all voyage. News from the Seven Kingdoms and, gods willing, passage home."

I joined him at the rail. Flint faded into the background. "You must have better eyes than I. Damned if I can see what flag she's flying."

"She's one of ours." Wallace insisted stubbornly, gripping the rail hard enough to whiten his knuckles. "I swear by the Seven, if Lord Tywin means to keep me here with this pack of sellswords..." he ground his teeth, biting off the end of that thought.

"Let's toast to that." I suggested, producing a skin of the Captain's best wine and suppressing the urge to pitch him over the rail.

He sneered but took a pull from the skin.

"What sort of man is Lord Tywin?" I asked.

Wallace wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. "Hells if I know. Never met his high-and-mightyness. Just an errand boy, that's all I am to him."

"We all have our parts to play, I suppose." I tried to be diplomatic.

He spat over the side. "That's for Lord Tywin and his plans! I could have been someone in this war, like that golden boy of his that can do no wrong! Sure, his shit smells like roses, he gets pardoned for killing a king, but I – I make one mistake and I'm packed off to the ends of the earth to whistle for sellswords!"

He broke off to take another drink.

I tried again. "Think of the rewards though, hey? Your Lord Lannister wins and there's bound to be some rich prizes for the man who helped make it happen."

A snort. "Not bloody likely. The Casterly Lannisters always look down on us Lannisporters, like they're too good for their own blood. Its all the world for them, gold and castles and titles while we have to scrape and scratch down with the bloody merchants and never get-"

I sighed and stared out across the water, silently willing the approaching ship to hurry up.

XXX

The wind was with us, which meant I had to endure another watch's worth of Wallace's whining while he worked his way though more of the wine. I finally took it away from him, reminding him that it wouldn't look good if he was vomited on our guests.

The ship proved to be a small coastal cog flying Lannister colors. It came alongside with a dark haired man waving a wrapped packet. The sailors threw a line down and he scrambled up with surprising agility.

"Greetings, sers." he said once his feet were planted on our deck. "Ser Colin Farman bearing sealed orders to be delivered to the hand of the sellsword commander. As the orders are urgent, I demand to be taken to him directly."

"Annalist Spatter." I said. "and Wallace Lannister. I'll take you to the Captain at once."

"What news from the Seven Kingdoms?" Wallace demanded.

"Its war." Ser Colin said as we hurried towards the stern cabin. "Fighting has broken out in the Riverlands. The last news before I sailed was that Ser Jaime had smashed a Tully army at the Golden Tooth. He and his lord father are marching north and east to break the river lords before the wolves arrive from the north."

"Ha!" Wallace clenched his fist in triumph. "A good beginning! I only fear that the war will be over too quickly for me to see battle."

"That would be the least of my worries." Ser Colin said. "The northern lords are calling upon all their strength. It is said that their levies number in the tens of thousands."

"Those would be the 'wolves' you mentioned, yes?" I interjected.

"Cold-hearted traitors the lot of them." Wallace growled. "They've ice for blood and as soon stab you in the back as look at you."

"Indeed." Ser Colin said calmly. "The former Hand of the King, Lord Eddard Stark, turned traitor and tried to seize the throne for himself. He was imprisoned by command of the king, but his son is calling his banners and his kin in the Riverlands have already risen in rebellion."

"Sounds like a right mess." I agreed, rapping on the cabin door. "Captain, the Lannister messenger is here."

The Lieutenant opened the door. "Come in, ser. You made good time."

Ser Colin did a double take. "As fast as wind and tide would allow, m-my lady."

The Lieutenant winked at him and waved us in.

"You're evil." I said.

She just smirked at me.

The Captain was in his big chair, looking every bit the sellsword commander.

"May I offer you some refreshment, ser?" he asked, accepting Ser Colin's packet.

"I thank you, but no." Ser Colin said. "I am only here to deliver your orders and then I must be off again."

"What about me?" Wallace demanded.

"You will be returning with me." Ser Colin said. "Lord Tywin has further duties for you."

"At last, thank the gods!" Wallace spun on his heel and stalked out of the cabin.

"He didn't like our company for some reason." the Lieutenant said.

"You are not alone in that regard." Ser Colin said in a long-suffering tone. "But I must take my leave. I wish you fair winds."

He turned and followed Wallace, leaving the three of us alone.

"What's the word, sir?" I asked, seating myself and pouring a cup of wine.

The Captain ignored me until he had read over the papers and passed them over to the Lieutenant.

"Make yourself useful and fetch that map." he said, beckoning across the room.

I brought it over and spread it across the tabletop. "Am I supposed to guess, then?"

"Shut the fuck up, Spatter." the Lieutenant said absently.

The Captain laid a finger on the map. "We land at Duskendale." His finger slashed cross country. "West to the kingsroad, then north. We join up with the main Lannister force at a place called Harrenhal."

"Or," the Lieutenant added, looking up from the papers, "we're supposed to secure it if we get there first."

"So that's enemy territory then."

"My understanding was that the situation was in flux." the Lieutenant said.

The Captain nodded. "No formal declaration of war has been made. We fly no banners and display no colors until we hear otherwise."

"So what do we say to the lord of Duskendale when we come sailing in? 'Don't mind us, just a few thousand armed men marching west?'"

"Lord Lannister has his fingers in many pies." the Captain said. "Duskendale will turn a blind eye to our movements."

"And if the northern lords come south?" I tapped the lake labeled God's Eye and the river it fed. "We're trapped on the other side of the river with no support."

The Lieutenant rolled her eyes. "So we march around them. Honestly Spatter, stop worrying like an old woman."

"Heh, that's rich coming from you."

She glared. "Don't push it."

I stole another glass of wine and fled.

XXX

"Spatter, wake up."

"Urghlh."

"No, really, we sighted port, you need to get up."

"Fuck off."

"Alright, be that way. I'll just send Reaper down to check on you."

"Go to hell, Kip, I'm up."

"Good to hear. Also, I was only half joking about Reaper, I really think he's around here somewhere."

I levered myself upright. "Kip, Reaper's on another ship. There's no way he's just going to drop in on us."

"Yeah, that's exactly what he want's you to think. See you topside, brother." Kip fled.

I sighed and began getting my things together.

Armor went on, weapons went on, pack went on. Ready to face the world.

The deck was a mad bustle of activity. The sailors were scurrying around adjusting the sails and tying off ropes while the captain barked orders from the helm. The Captain and the Lieutenant were at the bow watching the approaching port while a few armored Company brothers stood around in the waist keeping out of the sailors' way and spitting sourleaf. I drifted their way.

"-full kit if we're just going to march through." Keelstone was saying as I joined them. "Come on, ten silver. Spatter, ten silver says we're sacking the port when we land, how about it?"

"No thanks, I'll pass."

"Come on, you get the inside word straight from the Captain and you still won't wager a little coin?"

"First of all, the inside word is that we're marching straight through. No looting, no sacking, no pillaging, no kicking over vegetable stalls, got it? Second, I would never stoop to using Annalist privileges for petty gain."

That drew whistles of derision.

"Aye, and you've never told a pretty girl you'd protect her from all the bad men either." Mayson grinned.

I held up my hands in protest. "Only under duress."

Keelstone didn't want to let this go. "Alright so what if we march in there all nice and polite and then they attack us? We didn't start anything, we weren't looking for trouble, so no one could blame us for fighting back."

"Yeah, you 'accidentally' fight your way into the treasury." Silkfingers deadpanned.

I sighed. "Fine, have your little fantasy. But this is what we're going to do. We're going to land, unload, and march off. That's it. Nothing's going to happen."

XXX

Duskendale was a port city, much like the one we had left back in Essos. The streets were narrower, the houses less ostentatious, but all in all much the same. Guards bearing the sigil of two crossed warhammers on their jacks stood around and watched us disembark, but they didn't interfere. We formed up by twos and double timed it through the narrow streets.

We halted just out of bowshot of the city walls and formed up in line by platoons. This gave us time to adjust a strap or rearrange a pack while the sergeants took the roll to make sure no one had fallen behind, voluntarily or otherwise, in the city. That done, we set off on the march.

Our road out of Duskendale ran west over gently rolling hills. Most of the land had been cleared and cultivated, although there were thick stands of trees here and there along the margins of the farmland. The road was also shaded by tall timber, for which every man of us gave thanks to the higher powers of our choice. Traffic was light and we made good time. Two thousand armed mercenaries coming down the pike always have the right of way.

XXX

"Smoke on the horizon!"

We were three days out from Harrenhal when we found our first signs that the war had beaten us here. A scout came galloping in reporting a sacked and half-burned village near our line of travel. I was desperate for something, anything to put in the Annals besides the grinding monotony of the march, so I found a horse and accompanied the brother back to his squad. They were camped out on top of a low rise that overlooked the village, their horses tethered to bushes in the ravine behind them.

"Ho, Annalist." The squad sergeant rose to greet me as I crested the rise to join them.

"Ho, Pigface." I said. "Any signs of life down there?"

He shook his head. "Not a peep. Probably dead or rounded up."

"Cap'n says we's t' search it all t' same." Jack Snap said.

Pigface nodded. "I hear you. Weapons out, lads. Let's see if they left us anything."

The village was a collection of about twenty or thirty wooden buildings clustered around a small stone holdfast. Someone had fired a few of the houses closest to us, but the recent rains had dampened the houses' thatch enough to stop the fire from spreading.

We split up into pairs and searched house by house. I was the odd man out, so I stuck with Pigface and Jack Snap as we eased up to an unburned house. The door had been kicked in, so we walked inside with swords drawn. One room, with a loft overhead and an open cellar hatch in one corner. The furniture was smashed up and strewn around. No bodies, although I found a few bloodstains near the door. Jack hopped down into the cellar while Pigface and I looked around the room. These people hadn't had much to begin with, and the raiders had taken just about everything not nailed down. I didn't expect to find anything, but I checked the stone fireplace for loose rocks. Sometimes you get lucky and find a few coins.

Pigface poked his head up into the loft. "Nothing up here. You find anything?"

"No."

"Alright, on to the next one. Jack!"

Jack's head popped up. "Aye?"

"Anything down there?"

Jack climbed back up. "Just some loose grain. Rest cleaned out."

Pigface nodded. "Come on then, lets see if the others found anything."

As if in answer I heard a yelp and the snap of a crossbow. We bolted for the door.

"In the holdfast! Watch the top!" I heard someone yell as we dashed up a muddy lane between a house and some kind of open shed. The last house we reached had a Company brother at each end, crossbows pointed at the holdfast across the muddy expanse of the village square.

"What is it? Who fired?" Pigface demanded as we skidded to a stop against the wall.

"Think it was Trickles, sir." one of them said without turning around. "He an' Mitt were going to check the holdfast."

Pigface stuck his head around the corner. "Where are they?"

"Think they ducked inside."

"Hells." Pigface carefully leaned his crossbow against the wall. "Alright. Spatter, Jack, you're with me. Cover us, boys."

We sprinted across the rutted, churned square towards the square stone building. "Coming in!" Pigface bellowed as he practically dove through the doorway with Jack and I on his heels.

Our two comrades were inside. One was reloading his crossbow behind an overturned table while the other covered the stairs leading to the next floor.

"Up there." one of them pointed to the upper floor. "Seen 'em stick his head over the battlement and loosed at 'em. Think I hit him."

"Go find out, then." Pigface grinned at him. "We'll be right behind you."

We clattered up the stairs to the upper floor to find it in much the same state as the houses. Furniture was smashed and overturned, the wall hangings were torn down and trampled, and drifts of feathers from a shredded featherbed blanketed everything. We waded through the mess. No signs of life.

"Roof ladder." Jack pointed.

"Up it then." Pigface hissed.

Trickles went up, crossbow first. I half expected him to pitch backwards with an arrow in him as soon as he stuck his head through the hatch, but he scrambled onto the roof untouched. We followed.

We found Trickles' target slumped against the south parapet. An old man lay there with Trickles' bolt in his throat and his blood soaking into his long white beard.

"That him?" Pigface asked.

Trickles squatted down to reclaim his bolt. "I guess so. Don't see anyone else up here, do you?"

I scanned the rooftop. The center was clear, but the sides were piled up with boards, beams, stacks of straw and other clutter. The others poked at some of the near piles.

Pigface scratched his chin. "Good clean shot, even if it was an old man."

One of the others, Benny the Bard, kicked at a pile of cut logs and then had to jump back as the stack collapsed at his feet.

"Hey, old men can be dangerous." Trickles protested, wiggling the bolt free.

"Yeah, if you're an old woman maybe."

Pigface sighed. "Alright, enough of that. Let's finish searching this place and get back to the Company."

We searched the rest of the village and found nothing living beyond a few pigeons and a cat, and nothing of value except for a solitary silver stag that Jack found lying in the mud.

As we rode off I asked Pigface who he thought had attacked the village. He shrugged.

"Probably our side if we're as close to Harrenhal as the Captain thinks. Foragers most likely, seeing how they cleaned out the stores. Always a chance it was a rebel raiding party, but I doubt it. We'll have our scouts riding a little farther out from here on just in case."

That was the first destroyed village I saw in Westeros. I doubted it would be the last.