Chapter 119: Act 2: Chapter 52

Third day, Tenth Moon, 260 AC (+6 days)

Ryden POV

Auric snorted. "Aye, that's just like that bastard. He's a tough one, but then again, all Umbers tend to be."

I laughed. "True, true. Still, with how much he drank, I am surprised he found enough balance to stand and issue the challenge, let alone fight."

"Not everyone gets sleepy when they drink, Ryden!"

I grumbled, but he had the right of it. We rode alongside each other, as Auric's men followed behind on foot. Technically, I could have ridden at the front of the column with Lord Swann, but my appointment had already ruffled the feathers of a few of his more important vassals; they saw me as usurping their favored positions. Currently, we were marching to a nearby town to sack it with a quarter of our army quickly, and I decided to stick by Auric for the march.

The island had been quiet so far; everyone was waiting with bated breath. The Tyroshi didn't want to make any sudden moves – Lord Swann thought their terror was making them indecisive. Lord Baratheon had decided to keep the army together, as the Master of Coin had indeed helped to settle the food issues that the army faced, so Lord Swann was preemptively clearing the area around the fort.

I had my suspicions he was also driven by the promise of more loot and glory to be had, without sharing with the entire army. He had won my respect over time, but he was still human – as were those who served him.

Tyrosh proper was a cultivated land – even more so than Little Tyrosh. The land we moved through was all farmed, though its farmers had been driven off, and its goods looted. The land itself shockingly reminded him of farmland that wouldn't be out of place in Westeros. Dragonstone, what little I saw of it, was quite similar, and I imagined that the Crownlands was the same.

The column of men marched in good order, as they were well trained and experienced by this point in the campaign. Scouts watched our surroundings, and the dirt was baked dry, so our column moved at a good pace for a change. Marching in shit conditions was something I looked forward to not seeing again for a very long time as you not only had to deal with shit conditions, but the speed always slowed to a crawl to drag out the misery. As we marched, we kept the river that led to the nearby town to our right, as it provided an easy way to guide us to our destination. It was not a deep river, but its rocky bed provided us protection from any possible cavalry charge, and the drought had reduced the water level even more.

Our column had a small wagon caravan carrying a small amount of supplies at my insistence – mainly water since the town was only a bit over an hour's march away. The river water looked clean enough, but we were following it downstream, so I knew better than to trust it. Judging by the odd man who slipped out of the ranks to get a drink, rather than waiting for a break, I was one of the few. Still, with such a short march, I wasn't overly concerned with disease, and neither was Lord Swann.

As I wiped the sweat from my brow, I was also happy that we had brought water with us as the island was currently experiencing a drought. It was hot weather, and the land was drying up. Grass was looking brittle, and rivers were running low. I could only hope the weather was better back in Redbridge.

Lord Swann had proved to be receptive to my ideas and was always at least willing to listen to me. Thankfully, before this march, he had listened and began to clear the area around the fort for the eventual expansion when Lord Baratheon joined us. I wanted us prepared so that we could take Tyrosh as soon as possible. I had been listening in to the reports that Lord Swann had been receiving from his various sources about the defenses on the island. Assaulting Tyrosh kept me awake at night.

The Tyroshi had already begun stripping the southern half of the island of supplies, but it was a slow and ungainly process that left much behind. Our scouts had begun clashing with theirs since we arrived, sowing chaos where they could. We made a good showing of ourselves, but this was not our land, and it showed. Their scouts could melt away when they were losing, or escape ambushes, through their superior knowledge of the land. It was an advantage every defender had, and I knew that someone attacking Redbridge would find themselves in a similar situation.

Lord Swann had the 'foraging' parties freeing slaves when they found them, hoping that it might incite a slave revolt of some kind when the slaves saw their fellows being freed by us, but I thought it was wishful thinking. Arthur was building a movement, and giving it time to grow; Lord Swann was just throwing things at the wall to see what would stick. A slave revolt would be helpful, but we could not expect it – and to be fair, Lord Swann really didn't either.

Auric laughed beside me. "Ah, don't feel bad. My cousin gets weepy! My aunt is an Umber, so my cousin is this large man – I don't think you've met yet – but he just bawls like a babe when he has too much!"

"He cries?" I said, aghast.

"Like a babe," he replied, smirking. "Oh, he'll pull the normal Umber stuff after a drink or two, but when he really drinks? Crying."

"Did something bad happen to him as a child?"

"No."

"Is.. is he a fearful man normally?"

"No."

"…"

"…"

"Alright then," I said.

Auric laughed. "He's a good man, but I don't drink with him anymore."

"I can see why," I said, trailing off.

Auric tutted. "Ah, don't do that. I know that face. Missing your pretty new wife?"

"Home," I corrected. "I'm missing home."

"Which just so happens to be where your pretty new wife is," he said, dryly.

"Ah, shut it."

Auric grinned. "Don't you worry. My mother wrote to me to tell me that she has started to look for a wife for me as well."

"Any main contenders?"

"A few, but nothing will be decided until me, and my father are back in the North."

My reply was cut off by frantic movement to the front of the column. I turned to Auric, but he was already waving me off as he saw to his own men. By the time I reached the front, order had been restored, but the column was busy reorganizing itself.

There was no tent set up for Lord Swann, but a circle of men had formed around him listening for orders. I slipped into the circle next to Ser Robert, one of Lord Swann's less important vassals, who I actually got along quite well with. "What news?" I asked.

"Scouts caught sight of a large force moving toward us," he murmured.

"How many?"

"Around 1,500 to our 1,000."

Shit. "How-"

"Ser Ryden! What news of you from the rear?" called out Lord Swann.

"They are waiting for news, my lord. But Lord Auric is preparing his men for whatever comes at the moment regardless."

Lord Swann nodded. He turned to one of the scouts and said, "Get me more information! I need a more accurate count! And figure out how they got so close! We can't afford another army coming out of nowhere!"

The scout saluted and ran off.

"Ser Jon! Start forming up the men into their groups! I want men divided into groups of 50, according to their lord. I want a shield wall covering our retreat, with archers behind the shield wall to provide cover. The men not at the rear or sides will stay in their groups to be held in reserve. Ditch the wagons!"

I whispered to Ser Robert, "Do we know the composition of the enemy?"

Ser Robert shook his head. "Infantry and cavalry, though no one is certain of the numbers."

"Ser Alyn! See to the distribution of water! Everyone else, see to your men! We are marching back to the fort in an orderly fashion! We move out in five minutes!"

As the circle of men moved about to their duties, Lord Swann beckoned me over. "We have confirmation that we are facing a good portion of the Gallant Men and Second Sons under the banner of Spotted Tom and his Bloody Company."

"Three mercenary companies showing up in such few numbers? That is not very smart," I said.

Lord Swann nodded. "Likely the result of some internal dispute, but I will take what advantages I can get."

"Is it true they outnumber us by half?"

"At most, but their number is likely closer to 1,200."

"That is a lot of men to hold off. We are what? Forty minutes from the fort?"

"30 minutes at a forced march, but yes. We will need to be careful. Unfortunately, I cannot give you a command position due to your lack of men, but I need you to oversee any wounded. I don't want to leave anyone behind, but I need you to make some tough decisions. Our force cannot be stopped from reaching the fort. I will not allow this ambush to halt our conquest of Tyrosh."

I swallowed heavily. "Understood, my lord."

"We will follow the river as far as we can before cutting south to the fort. We shall keep at least one side to either river or forest to keep their cavalry from enveloping us. We likely have too few cavalry to give them a proper fight, but there is enough to keep them from doing anything major."

"I understand, my lord. Good luck."

I left Lord Swann standing alone as he sent off a quick prayer.

After what seemed like too long, the column began to reverse itself and marched back to the fort. I was glad I was in the center of the column, for the noise that surrounded me gave me comfort. I could only hear the rest of the men, but it was comforting to know that I was surrounded by my countrymen. I knew if I had been on the outside, every noise would have me flinching. If the enemy could sneak up on us once without the scouts catching them, what was to stop them from doing so again?

From my vantage point on my horse, I saw movement on the other side of the field a few minutes later. I was not the only one, and Lord Swann was already sending a cavalry detachment to scare them off. The enemy horses were of the more typical light-cavalry style and settled for harassing the knights before letting themselves be run off. This happened multiple times as the enemy probed for weakness and hoped to slow us down so that their infantry could catch up, but Lord Swann never slowed our march.

We were halfway home, and still following the river, when the enemy truly met with us. They came in from the northwest and arrayed themselves on a hill that overlooked the us and the river.

Orders were sent out to form up into a proper battle line.

It looked like the retreat was cut off.

I made my way to the front near Lord Swann. He saw me and beckoned me forward. "Ser Ryden! I need you to do the same as I said before; you are in charge of the wounded. Grab the wagon drivers to help you and set up a space for Maester Hagen and his apprentices to work."

"We are standing our ground then?"

Lord Swann nodded grimly and pointed to the banner that flew higher than all the others on our opposite. "That is definitely Spotted Tom's banner. He will press the battle today – he's an eager one. Known as the Butcher, he has a thirst for blood, and he has been sidelined for most of the war, so he needs to prove himself. Especially against other Westerosi. He will push today, and he will seek to kill us all."

I frowned. "It sounds like an opportunity then, my lord. He has drawn himself out of his strongholds and will overreach at some point."

"Perhaps. The Butcher is well aware of our traditional tactics, so he will not be as easy to defeat as the Essosi scum."

Ser Jon, who was standing on Lord Swann's right side, said, "As much as I disagree with Ser Ryden normally, I agree on this: we should go on the offensive! Carve through their lines and shatter them! Half their number are Essosi mercenaries, and the other half are the dredges of Westeros! Exiles and bandits! They will flee in the face of their own death."

"No, no," I protested. "I am not saying to attack them first! I am saying that we need to do something to react when they overreach! Hold our cavalry in reserve or something!"

"Attack!" argued Ser Jon. "They will not expect it! The Butcher will work himself into a fury! His command will fall to pieces, and the mercenaries will scatter!"

"The longer the fight is delayed, the more well-rested our men are."

"Bah! They've only been marching a few hours! The enemy is much the same! Maybe even worse, since they had to catch us!"

"Hmm," said Lord Swann. "This battle is not entirely unlike the Battle of Sweetvalley in 25AC between House Wyl and House Dondarrion."

Ser Jon nodded. "A wise analysis, my lord. A similar tactic shall work here as well, I believe."

"Excellent! Ser Jon be about your business then and reinforce the right flank! Ser Ryden – get to your area."

I nodded, stifling my disappointment. While he didn't have to tell me his plan, not telling all of his commanders what he planned seemed foolish. How was everyone to apply tactics if they didn't know the strategy?

While the rest of the army bustled about, I set about my task with due diligence. It wasn't glamorous, but my father and mother raised me better than to be a slacker. The wagon drivers and I cleared an area for the inevitable wounded, while the maester and his assistants did their own preparations.

During this, I saw a scout left the camp heading back toward the fort.

Both armies began to work themselves up into a fury to fight as they stood on opposite sides of the field. There were the traditional taunts, but both Lord Swann and Spotted Tom kept a tight leash on both armies otherwise. Both leaders met in the empty area between the two armies, and although I was too far to hear anything – I could barely see anything – the fact that Spotted Tom stormed off made it seem like Lord Swann's plan was off to a good start.

The mercenaries advanced down their hill and drove into the center of our army. With their numbers, it seemed as though they were trying to flank around us – or at the very least, encircle us and trap us against the river.

My view of the battlefield was poor, and as the wounded began to trickle in off the battlefield, I had to abandon my vantage point atop my horse and help with the wounded.

Some just needed bandages to cover their cuts, while others needed amputation. I helped as best as I could, but there were far too many men to try to enact any semblance of cleanliness or order on the process. The clean bandages were used up all too quickly, and I resorted to using the clothing of the wounded men instead.

I recruited some of the lightly wounded to help me boil some of the used bandages while I kept up with the grisly work. The sounds of the wounded drowned out the battle, and it wasn't until later that I learned what had happened.

Lord Swann's tactic worked; he incited Spotted Tom's rage and pushed him to attack and abandon his chosen spot. Ser Jon, on the right flank, deliberately weakened his line and moved his excess men to the reserves. When the Second Sons attacked the right flank, they pushed much further than they had expected but thought little of it. They were not unlike Spotted Tom, annoyed that they had been sidelined for so long and received to little loot. Seeing an opportunity to gain a greater share of the spoils, they pushed hard.

Ser Jon's reserves were then able to encircle the right flank and crush the Second Sons. Seeing this, Spotted Tom sounded the retreat and for his army to form back up on their hill. Fortunately for him, the Gallant Men had not been content to only send a portion of their men to this fight. Secretly, they had the rest of their company shadow the main army ready to help push the army forward – thus, securing the Gallant Men's interests both politically and from a loot viewpoint.

What brought this all to my attention was the sudden increase in wounded. The area we had prepared was already full, and my work was increasingly frantic. A wounded squire was managing to help bring water to everyone, even as his one arm was in a sling, broken. As I took a break to drink some water, I took stock of the situation and was shocked to discover the state of affairs.

"Boy!" I shouted, getting the attention of the wounded squire. "What's happening out there?"

The squire shrugged. "More of the bastards, Ser."

"Whose banner do they carry?"

"I'm not certain, Ser. I couldn't see anything." The boy shivered. "It was madness."

I sighed. Figures that this would be the boy's first battle. I patted him on the shoulder of his good arm. "I'm sure you did just fine. Go on and bring the water to everyone else now."

Looking about, I felt lost. What was I supposed to do? What was happening? The increase in wounded indicated things were going poorly, but how poorly? Should I be doing something?

Even as I questioned my actions, more wounded streamed into the now overcrowded clearing. Something had to be done.

My eye was caught on a man stumbling into the clearing. Auric.

I rushed over to his side and helped to prop him up. Blood covered half his face and was steadily pouring down. "Auric! What happened?!"

"Lucky hit," he replied, voice strained. "Bastard hit my helm and crushed my visor. I pulled back a bit to switch helms, but an arrow grazed me."

"I'll get that wrapped for you. What's happening out there?"

"More Gallant Men," he said, as I sat him down. He continued talking while I bandaged the wound. "They attacked our left flank and its crumbling. 'Twas where I was. The center is pulling back too, but too slowly. And nowhere to go."

"We can cross the river," I suggested as I inspected the finished bandage - snug but not too snug.

"And then what? It'll be a slow crossing, and they'll just be on us on the other side too."

"Well, where's Lord Swann?"

"Not sure, but his banner still flies. Lord Swann can't help us cross the river any quicker anyway."

I grinned. "We don't need help crossing the river, just escaping. All we need to do is make sure that the Essosi can't follow."

Auric looked at me, questioningly. "What?"

"I plan to make it so they can't follow us."

"But what about Lord Swann?! He hasn't given you any orders or permission to do so!"

"Ah, in this case, I think I will follow something my Dad once told me: It is better to ask forgiveness than for permission."

Auric looked nervous and hissed, "That sounds like the stupidest thing I've ever heard you say!"

I swallowed my nerves and tried to smile confidently. "It's only stupid if it doesn't work. Now, I've got things to organize. When you get back to your men, have them ready for the order to retreat."

Xxxx

I had recruited some of the more lightly wounded to my plan, using some creativelanguage to make them think I was in charge – which I sort of was, just not in the way they thought. As the battle wore on, it became more and more apparent that we were losing. We were making a showing for ourselves, but the frontline kept being pushed back, and now the backlines were starting to get tangled in our camp.

The mood was plummeting, and tension increasing. Men were starting to become reluctant to return to the battle after being lightly wounded. There were always those who tried to claim their injury was too great, but it was becoming more and more common as the situation became dire.

Lord Swann was still at the front, trying to bolster the collapsing left flank using the resurgent right. It was as if everything was in slow motion. The inevitable collapse, the inevitable avalanche, was coming straight toward us. Frighteningly quick, but with just enough time to think on the cruelty of it all. The frontline continued to push back, leaving bodies from both sides trampled in the mud. It would be no easy victory for the Essosi, but victory they would have.

Like Lord Swann had been, I was left standing alone in the midst of the chaos.

My plan was as ready as it would ever be, and what messages I tried to send to Lord Swann were never received. The wounded who arrived told tale of his valor, how he would rally the men and push back, but I received no instructions. I could see what he hoped for – the valor of the men of Westeros to triumph over the mere mercenaries of Essos. For us to hold longer than they would. A fanciful notion, but not one I was willing to bet everyone's lives on. Maybe that made me a poor commander, but to me, it seemed like a poor choice. I would have to act.

I shuddered. I would have to take responsibility. I had to make a choice.

But I dithered, and the choice was taken from me.

A harried scout emerged into the chaotic clearing, looking to and fro. Seeing me standing alone, and having some vague sense of authority, he rushed over to me and shouted, "Cavalry approach from the east!"

"What? More mercenaries?"

"Yes, m'lord! You must send help to the right flank!"

It was as if the world stopped spinning. Everything held still for a moment before the whispers started. The whispers changed to shouts and the shouts to panic. The entire clearing heard the fool.

"Keep your voice down, you fool! How many?"

"Twenty, m'lord!" At my furious glare, he said, "But there could be more!"

"You came to me about twenty men!? That is a large scouting party! Nothing more!"

"But… who else was I to tell?!"

"Anyone! But you should have kept your fool mouth shut!"

I turned my back on the gaping man as I felt my blood boiling. Panic ran through the camp uncontrolled. No one had run yet, but once word reached the backline of the fighters, it was only a matter of time.

It was time.

I snapped at a nearby man who was panicking, "Stop that! Lord Swann has prepared for this! We are ordered to make an orderly withdrawal! Things have been prepared! Instead of complaining, do something useful! Help the maesters pack everything up!"

I started selecting men at random to give orders to begin to bring everything to the other side of the river.

"You! Get the squires moving now!"

"You! Start helping that fellow mark out the easiest path to walk in the river!"

"You! Tell the maesters to start grouping the heavily wounded together and get the lightly back to work!"

"None will be left behind!" I roared. "Work together! The fort already knows of our situation! Have faith!"

Slowly but surely, I got the camp back in some semblance of order. I had some of the Northern Thanes establish themselves on the other side of the river, both to secure it and to discourage runners. I sent a few more messengers to Lord Swann, but I received no reply. Still, I alerted the backlines of the army to the plan of retreat and coordinated what I could. The lightly wounded were taken across first, followed by the men who were just pulled off the frontline for a break.

As men were starting to cross the river in increasing numbers, Ser Jon came into the clearing. He zeroed in on me, and I felt a shiver of fear. "What's going on?!" he shouted.

"What do you mean? I'm keeping order."

"Order?! Why are people fleeing?"

"Some fool scout panicked everyone by saying there was another army to the east," I said, keeping my voice low.

"Another army?" he hissed.

I shook my head. "I questioned him, but it sounds like it was only a large scouting party. But the damage was done, everyone was panicking."

He grunted, displeased. "And why did he go to you?"

I shrugged. "I don't know. But he likely couldn't reach Lord Swann. Gods know I haven't been able to get a message to him."

"And why are they falling back across the river? I've secured the right flank and bolstered the center."

"The left keeps falling back, and the center mirrors them."

He cursed. "I shall send men to the left to reinforce them."

"You can try, Ser Jon, but we have already lost many men. The men don't think we can win, but I hear from the wounded that the only reason they haven't lost heart so far is due to Lord Swann."

Ser Jon nodded. "Aye, that sounds like him. Still, I can take men from the left."

"If you are convinced, I shall not sway you. But our goal should be to disengage from the enemy and cross the river."

"They will just catch us with wet boots if we do that," retorted Ser Jon.

"Not if we cross quickly. If they try to cross, we will have an easier time holding them off."

"It wo-"

He was cut off by a wounded man crying out, "Lord Swann has fallen!"

Ser Jon's eyes bulged out, but I signaled for him to keep calm. "Do not fear, that is the third time that has happened. Notice the sigil on the man's shield? He is from the left flank – he couldn't have seen anything."

Slightly calmer, Ser Jon said, "I must return to the front; Lord Swann needs me."

"I shall continue to withdraw the camp," I said, leaving no other option.

Ser Jon nodded, distracted. He turned to his retainers, "Onward, men! Death to the Tyroshi!"

Putting the matter aside, I returned to my work. Ser Jon showing his presence had a calming effect on the people, and his charging back into battle gave them hope. I capitalized on that and began moving people even quicker, even as the left flank continued to give more ground.

Finally, the camp was evacuated, and the army itself had its back against the river. Twice, our cavalry charged and twice they were turned back. The army was unable to disengage long enough to cross, and I saw my plan ironically going up in smoke.

Lord Swann and his squire, who was holding the tattered remains of the banner, emerged from the chaos and made their way over to me.

"Masder Rydeg!" Lord Swann called out. He removed his helmet to reveal his smashed nose.

"Lord Swann! You are a sight for sore eyes!"

"You hab ebacuaded the cabb?"

"The camp? Yes, my lord! I need you to disengage from the enemy and get the rest of the army to cross the river! They shall not be able to follow us!"

Lord Swann laughed. "The riber will bake aggread place do hold!" He rode to the front of the cavalry, and I could just hear him shouting, "Once bore ben! Ride for glory and de Drone!"

The men echoed his call, "For Glory and the Throne!"

The cavalry rode out to the right flank and charged forward, throwing themselves upon the enemy. The enemy cavalry was too light to stop them, but the shield wall had prevented the previous attempts. Still, Lord Swann persisted, and now that the lances were long gone, the men all had simple spears. Using that, the first wave of men, with Lord Swann leading the charge, raked the frontline by throwing their spears and disrupting the line. Ser Robert led the second wave and barreled right into the enemy, throwing everything into chaos.

Seeing the opportunity, Ser Jon lead the infantry forward, crushing a separated wedge of men. Panicking, some of the mercenaries tried to escape the trap, and the panic rippled down the line. The push was halted and, in some places, even reversed as men gave room for their friends to escape the crush.

One of Lord Swann's bannermen then blew the horn and signaled the retreat. Slowly, but surely, the army began its escape from the battlefield. Spotted Tom was no idiot and tried to get his men to re-engage, but Lord Swann harried the attempts until they stopped. Everyone was exhausted, and few saw the point in pushing for more, especially as they were surrounded by the bodies of their friends.

They would push again soon enough, but all we needed was time. They knew we still had a long way to go, and that there was little reason to rush. The second group of Gallant Men was still fairly well-rested and would chase us down easily. In their minds, it was only a matter of time.

As the exhausted soldiers crossed the river, many flopped to the ground, exhausted. The adrenaline left them, and their pains seemed amplified. But I could not let them stop. I harried, annoyed, cajoled, and ordered until they kept falling back. Through the forest and back onto the main road so that we could reach the fort. They could rest there.

The leaves and branches that littered the ground made for a slow walk, but it was progress. We could find our speed once we reached the road once more.

Luckily, I didn't see Lord Swann or Ser Jon, who likely would have countermanded my orders, so I kept following my plan. Just before I lost sight of the river, I saw some of the Gallant Men tentatively beginning to cross. Without us holding the river, they saw the last defense between them and all the loot they could hope for fall. They were hungry.

The road was not far away, and once men started to reach it, I signaled to my helpers that it was time.

We took torches from our makeshift camp on the road, and we began to light the piles of underbrush that the men had gathered. Forest fires in the summer were always a hazard, but in droughts, they became thehazard. And when helped along by men?

The crackles as the fires started were hard to hear over all the men. The smoke, however, cut through the stench of blood and sweat quite clearly. Maybe some primal instinct that told us of danger. As we went down the line, the smoke thickened as the fires spread, and my men and I hurried the army on. Fire was a dangerous weapon, one that quickly grew out of control. It would burn us just as easily as it would burn them.

The men stumbled onward, some of them shedding their gear, but they continued.

We outran the fire, but its cloud of smoke hung heavy over the horizon like an ill omen.

All I could do was hope that it was a sign of things having gone wrong, rather than things will be going wrong.

Xxxx

Arthur POV

There was a slight resistance to the sword as I pulled it from the mud, silt blurring the water. The lakebed was soft mud, and my feet were completely sunken, but the flash of metal beneath the water caught my attention. The sword itself was of decent quality, made in a typical Essosi style, and in remarkably good condition for having been underwater. It had likely only been there for a few hours – a day at most. Curious.

Was it some fleeing man who had abandoned the fight in the town? Saw the destruction heading to him and saw that flight was his only option? It would have been a narrow window of opportunity, but not impossible.

I walked out of the water slowly and sat on the grass bank as I wrung out my shoes and pant bottoms. My only company was a few cattle on the other side of the small lake. The village my group had just freed sat quietly behind me, its inhabitants still reeling from our attack. Like most, the village had accepted our offer, their armed guards too small to put up much of a fight. It was a small village that had no important manors of patrons, just a small farming community that paid taxes directly to whichever city-state that lay claim to the area. It was not without wealth, but it certainly lacked the grandeur of other villages and towns – a byproduct of the poorer quality of farmland.

My group of one hundred had split from the other two groups to cover more ground and target these smaller holdings. Loot for my men was smaller, but it was necessary to build a movement – a nation. We were forming the heartland. We would meet soon again to target another major town, but we needed to impact as many as we could before forces were brought to bear against us. Already I had noticed that caravans were starting to become more heavily guarded – even this town had more guards than I expected. Nothing to truly hinder us yet, but it was only a matter of time before word reached the Nine, and they turned their attention to us.

I put the sword down beside me as I laid down on my back and closed my eyes against the sun. It was another hot day, so unlike home, that it almost made me forget the feeling of cold. It was hard to remember the last time he had been cold. Even the nights here were hot, which made sleeping pretty miserable – especially when there was no breeze. However, it made for great moments like this; a moment to rest; a moment to meditate.

But the contrast only made me miss home more. The smell of the salt and the pine trees. Of rivers and wheat. Home still wasn't on the horizon, but my heart was already yearning for it. I was happy to see the world, unlike Ryden, but this was not a happy adventure, which made it difficult to appreciate the journey.

The words came forth slowly, my voice unused to singing, "Well, I've been down to Dorne… I've seen the streets in the west."

The sun warmed my exposed, pale legs and gave a comfortable feeling on my eyelids.

"'Cause I'm comin' home, I'm comin' home."

As my voice faded, a cough interrupted my reverie.

"A beautiful song, Ser Arthur."

I opened my eyes to see Ser Jon, a landed knight from the Crownlands, standing alongside Vamyx.

"Thank you, Ser Jon. It's one of my fathers."

"Oh? Your father has been to Dorne?"

I laughed. "No, that's just some creative inspiration, but he did travel quite a bit when he was young."

"Well, it is a truly excellent song regardless. Now, I must admit, I am also missing my home. Do you mind if we sit?" he asked, gesturing to the ground.

"Sure, make yourselves comfortable."

Ser Jon looked over the lake for a moment before he said, "I have been talking to Vamyx here about your speeches; he has translated them for me. They are quite beautiful."

"Thank you for the kind words, Ser Jon."

"Vamyx has been helping me to learn Valyrian; I must say it is an interesting language – more so than I would have thought."

"It is, and somehow it's dialects are so different yet mutually intelligible."

"You are a follower of the old gods, are you not, Ser Arthur?"

"Aye, I am. Why do you ask?"

"I noticed some familiar concepts in your speech from the sermons my brother has performed."

"Oh? Your brother is a Septon?"

"Aye, and we were the youngest in my family, so we are quite close."

"Well, to answer your next question: I am not wholly ignorant of the Seven, but neither am I overly learned or even a follower."

Ser Jon nodded. "A shame. Have you ever talked with a Septon before?"

"Not specifically, but I have talked to my family's maester on the subject."

"You have managed a truly admirable feat then with your speech. It reminds me quite fondly of younger days spent with my brother. I have talked to Vamyx about it, but I'm afraid I don't quite have a way with words unlike you or my brother."

Vamyx smiled politely. "I am quite happy with Semosh and Selloso," he said. "How can I forsake them now, just when my prayers have been answered?"

I chuckled. "That sounds like a good reason."

Ser Jon bowed his head graciously. "As I said, I lack the words to convince you otherwise, but I do not begrudge you your happiness. Still, Ser Arthur, with your permission, I would like to begin to spread the word of the Seven."

I frowned in thought. Religious upheaval was not something I wanted to add to the mix. But it was something that would please the Throne I would imagine since it would please the Faith. On the other hand… "Can you speak Valyrian well enough to spread the word?" I asked, skeptically.

"With Vamyx's help," he admitted.

"And is that something you are willing to help with?" I asked Vamyx.

"For the right price," replied Vamyx. "So long as no one forced into or to listen," in his choppy Common Tongue. He was still learning, but he was making excellent progress.

I drummed my fingers in the grass, but the soft soil made it lack the satisfying feeling. "Very well, so long as no one is forced into anything. It's not our primary goal, and I won't have it interfere with it."

"Thank you, Ser Arthur!" beamed Ser Jon. "I lack a way with words, but it shall be a balm on my own heart to at least help the people as much as I can."

I nodded politely. "Have no fear of that, Ser. We have done good work here, and we shall continue to do so."

"I believe Vamyx has some other matters to discuss with you, so I shall leave you to it. Once again, thank you, Ser Arthur."

He walked off, humming happily to himself, as I turned to Vamyx with a questioning look. "What is it you needed from me, my friend?" I asked.

"Did you get anything nice from town?"

"Nice? I suppose. I've gotten some melon seeds, finally, which I hope I can get to grow in the North."

"A nice collection you will have," he said. "How many you have now?"

"Of the different types of seeds? About ten, including some fennel, which I am really looking forward to. Such an excellent addition to meals."

Vamyx nodded. "Very tasty." He was silent for a moment, as I could see him turning the words over in his head. "What's next?"

"Next? There is a large manor to the south that we will hit next. After that, we will start to swing southwest, heading to the coast to attack the next large town and regroup with the rest of my men."

"What comes after that?"

"What do you mean?"

Vamyx struggled to find the words. "I mean… After your speech, I stayed with the townsfolk a bit. Some of the freed slaves want to fight. Not many, but a couple of the young men. Will you let them? What is next for them?"

I scratched my chin as I thought it over. The idea of a new state arising from this land had always meant that the people needed to be involved at all stages, my men and I were just getting the ball rolling. A local army would be needed eventually, provided that the new government doesn't mimic its neighbors and chooses to utilize mercenaries, so getting that started sooner would be a boon. I had never given much thought on how the transition between no local involvement and with local involvement would go, but clearly that was a mistake. I nodded decisively. "I'll let them come with us. This land will need people to protect its liberties, and it would be good to start now. We'll teach them what they need to know as we move."

"People to protect its liberties," he echoed.

"People to protect their own and others," I confirmed. I picked up the sword that I retrieved from the lake and offered it to him and said, "And you? Will you take up the sword?"

He eyed the sword carefully. "I don't think I make a good warrior."

"Perhaps not, but a man with a sword tends to be taken more seriously than one without."

Vamyx laughed. "Maybe in Westeros, but not here."

"Still," I said, putting the sword in his lap. "It's something to think about. About who you are and who you want to be."

Vamyx continued to look at the sword carefully but forcefully drew his gaze away to look at me. "A decision for another day, I think. I have word from townsfolk, though. Golden Company is now to the south of us. Should be fighting against your Prince soon."

"It sounds like we will have to step up our work; they will notice the lack of supplies soon enough."

"Onward?"

"Onward, my friend. Onward."