13 Fire

To say everything was going well, would be an understatement. In fact, I would say that my presence here would be unneeded within the next month. It has been around three months since I had started improving agriculture at Barrick's farm and progress was great, workers littered the land in the surrounding fields as well as their tents, overall the mood was good. If I'm being honest, there is little need of me even being here really, my lack of experience with farming itself renders me to paperwork, which I could do within the confines of a warm keep instead of a barn, and the fact that everyone seems to have gotten on with the work makes my job many times easier. I did try my hand at farming but between the difficulty of it and the fact that I would be pestered by my guards to stop, I conceded, It of course has nothing to do with the fact that Father would rain hell upon me if he found out I started farming with the Smallfolk.

Barrick had taken the unofficial role of head farmer or something similar, he basically was in charge of everything the farmers did in the field, I will admit that he took to the task well. He had been a tough nut to crack, a men of his age and experience in agriculture is going to find it hard to believe that a twelve year old has methods of improving farming, even if those methods come from experts (or so they think), However Lannister gold is quite persuasive.

He had accepted the idea of crop rotation after I had described it to him, he told me that he thought that it was ingenious and would possibly change farming for the better if it actually worked. Lynchets were another matter, Barrick explained to me that he it would probably be too expensive for such labour intensive work and that making lynchets throughout the West would take years, if not decades. I fully agreed with his doubts and told him that it would be a gradual process, as well as the fact that the constant work would be good for a lot of the Smallfolk, the prospects of work and good pay might influence people to migrate to the West.

With that, I raise another problem. I know I said that I was expecting a couple hundred people to show up for work but I didn't take into account of the problems that come with a large group of unorganised, undisciplined people. Around 353 have shown up so far, at least according to my ledger, and with that I have to procure places for them to sleep, food for them to eat as well as soldiers to guard and maintain law and order within the camp.

Lord Falwell helped in any way he could, he managed to scrounge up a few tents for the farmers to live in and had loaned me a couple dozen of his men to oversee security of the camp. However this wasn't enough, with more workers arriving every-so-often the problems only grew, which led me to send a raven to father. I asked for more tents, food and any soldiers that he could spare, with most of these arriving a fortnight ago.

As I was writing a letter to Lord Falwell to inform him of a fight that had broken out between two of his men, the door to my room opened. Montford walked through holding a plate carrying food in both of his hands. "Your dinner my Lord?" obviously asking where to place it, I make a hand gesture towards my left on the table. "Monty" I ask him, "Have a rider deliver this letter to your father for me will you" I said as I held out the letter for him." He responds with a 'Yes, my Lord' before he turns around and starts to leave.

At first I had my doubts about him being my Page, I wasn't really liking the idea of someone following me around all day. However he has proven useful, with him ferrying letters and helping me with the more mundane, boring tasks. I find that he shares a lot of similarities with Tyrion, they both possess a sharp mind, are avid readers and lack any talent with a blade, Monty is more on the quiet side though.

"Fire..." I heard Monty mumble as he was about to leave through the door, I look up at him to see him looking through a small wooden window that overlooks the tents. "Fire"

I get up and try to see what he was looking at, a raging fire rolling across the outskirts of the camp, spreading swiftly from tent-to-tent. As I stand there staring at the fire, the door is swung open, revealing one of the Redcloaks that would be standing outside the door. "My Lord, we must move you, the wind is facing us." He says to which I just nod and turn around, making sure to gather my ledger and books.

I turn to face my Page, "Monty, I want you to take these and go to the opposite side of the camp, make sure that the books don't burn." He nods and scrambles to do what I asked, leaving the barn with an unexpected speed. With that, I order some of my guards and any surrounding Lannister soldiers to tell everyone to collect water from the stream and to take down any tents surrounding the fire, hoping that it will stop it from spreading.

Standing there with my head in my hands, hoping that the fire would be put out. The Redcloak to my left turns towards me, "My Lord, we should head further away from the fire, it is too da-Geughhk" Suddenly an arrow flies through his neck, cutting off what he was trying to say as he collapses on ground and chokes on his own blood.

The sound of swords being drawn resonate around me, cutting through the sound of arrows whistling over my head. Men charge out of the nearby forest, the one on the opposite end of camp from the fire, and collide with my guards. The title 'Redcloak' has meaning, and that is shown through the way they cut down the enemy and hold their ground, however quantity overwhelms quality. Around half of my Redcloaks are helping put the fire out and the rest with me, I counted seven still alive-no make that six as a Redcloaks head is separated from his neck with a long axe.

As that Redcloak's body falls to the ground, a huge stocky man is revealed, wearing dark boiled leather armour and a half helm that doesn't fit his head properly. He takes his eyes off the man he just killed and looks up, meeting my eyes as a sadistic grin emerges on his face. He strolls forward, hefting up his large bloodied axe.

Whether or not I was trying to play hero or something I don't know, I run at him, drawing the jewel-encrusted dirk held at my waist, a gift from Uncle Kevan for my eleventh nameday, and stab him in the top of his thigh, remembering that an artery somewhere around there. He falls on his knees due to the pain, making him eye-level with me, and I draw back my arm and plummet the dirk in his heart, or that's at least what I tried to do, a burning pain came across my palm, making me cringe. A dirk is meant to be used to stab through exposed areas on a person, like the armpits or neck, anywhere vulnerable. So stabbing boiled hardened leather has done nothing except push my hand down the hiltless blade, cutting my palm deep to the bone with my own knife. Realising what a terrible mistake I'd made, I look up, only to see an enormous fist coming filling my vision, rendering me unconscious.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

"come..... gotta..... ship"

"Fuck.... how long.... reach it"

The first thing I felt was the jostling of my body, it bumping up and down, leading to my head to constantly smack into something hard, making my pounding headache hurt even more. I involuntarily groan as I try to open my eyes, black spots fill my vision as if I've stared at the sun too long.

"SHH... hear that, I think he's awake." I hear someone say, "Oh come off it, he's been groaning like bitch these last couple days." another voice adds, causing a few snickers.

"Yeah well he nicked Bonnet good, didn't he" someone with a squeaky voice mentioned, "just wait till that little shit wakes up, I'm gonna fucking gut him" a much deeper voice adds, ending with a pained groan.

"Now now Bonnet, remember what we were told, we're not meant to kill him but we can rough him up a bit." that same squeaky voice declared to which he got a grunt in response.

"'ow much we gettin' paid for this anyway?" Someone asked, "1,000 Gold dragons, meant to get him to Dorne then we can piss off to Lys, heard they've got those Valyrian whores there." squeaky voice replied, silence falls among them for the next hour or so as I try my hardest to seem unconscious. "Right, lets make camp here for now, we should be far enough from anyone chasing us."

I feel myself swung off the place I was resting and thrown onto the ground, causing me to groan out with pain and my eyes too open. "Oh he is awake." said the man with the squeaky voice, a tall stick-like figure with a mouth half full of teeth and ratty brown hair.

"Let me see" a harsh voice spoke out, revealing the owner of the voice as the squeaky man steps aside. He was the man I stabbed, tall and fat with tiny beady eyes, only this time his face was a pale white and wearing only a roughspun tunic covered in black-red stains at the bottom of it, blood. He looks at me with murder in his eyes before turning his head towards someone starting a small fire and smirks a sadistic grin down at me.

I see him walk over to the person starting the fire and lays something down on the floor, turning back to me with the same grin on his face. I sit there for some time, hoping that someone would come and kill these people , seventeen is the number I counted from those gathering around the fire, there might be more on the outskirts of the camp. I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I see the fat man get up from his log and reached towards the fire, pulling out a small knife with a glowing red blade, the one I used to stab him with.

Suddenly, he starts making his way towards me holding the knife out in front of him. Dreading what he is going to do, I start backing up, wriggling away from him with my hands tied behind my back. He steps forward and grabs my jaw in a vice-like grip between his sausage fingers, "I'm gonna fucking love this" he whispers to himself as he plunges the tip of the burning blade into the left-side of my forehead. The unbearable pain spreads throughout my whole body, making me scream out agony, I feel him dragging the knife down my face, causing blood to dribble down into my left eye and adding the stinging sensation too the rest of my torture. As I start to fall into unconsciousness from the pain, I hear a cry off into the distance and the rumble of what sounded like thunder, before falling into darkness.