CH- 6

Edric Rivers, 286 Ac

Crownlands

It had been two years since the long summer began, the kind that makes men restless. In summers like these, the second and third sons, disinherited and with no lands to their name, would leave their homes in search of fortune. If they weren't off fighting in some distant lord's war, they'd turn to banditry—either joining one of the many roving gangs or forming their own. The roads were perilous, and it fell to hedge knights like me to deal with the mess.

Lord Hogg of Sow's Horn had sent word of a band of raiders harrying the northern roads. He gave me ten men, a pitiful number, but more than I was used to. That's the life of a hedge knight: you take what you're given and make do. We'd been tracking the bastards for days now, and as the sun began to sink behind the hills, I called a halt.

"Let's rest here, boys," I called over my shoulder, reining in my horse.

Among the group, my eyes fell on Arthur. It had been almost two years since I first found the lad in the streets of King's Landing. He was little more than skin and bones back then, walking barefoot on the cobblestones with a look that made you think he was a cornered animal. But there was something else—something in the way he moved, the sharpness of his gaze. So, I watched him from a distance, curious.

He didn't disappoint. Slipping through the crowds with a skill far beyond his years, he stole a piece of meat from a vendor's stall without anyone the wiser. Not even the seller knew he'd been robbed. But I saw it. That's when I grabbed him, and in his eyes, I saw a deep sadness tempered by a will to survive. He was no ordinary street rat.

He was five, or so he told me. Though the hunger had aged him, made him look older. I didn't begin his training right away. First, I got him fed and cleaned up. It took six months before I put a sword in his hand, and when I did, the results surprised me. The boy was a natural. He absorbed every lesson like a sponge, and after a year of drills and basics, I began sparring with him using wooden swords. That's when I realized the true depth of his potential.

The boy was fast. Faster than any child had the right to be. His hands, his feet—everything moved with a speed that made even me pause. If he had more strength behind him, I might not have been able to hold my own. The gods only knew what he'd become with time.

"Arthur, bring out the wooden swords. Time for a bit of training," I said, my voice cutting through the quiet evening.

Arthur nodded, heading for the horses. The men grinned. They'd grown fond of watching our sparring sessions, and some had even started taking bets.

"Show him what you've got, lad," one of them called, laughing.

Arthur smirked. "I've got something new for the old man today."

That got a chuckle out of the men. Even I couldn't help but laugh.

"Old man?" I said, raising an eyebrow. "I'm not even thirty yet."

"You're old to me," Arthur shot back with a grin.

"You're what, eight now? Everyone's old to you," I replied, catching the wooden sword as he tossed it to me.

As soon as I gripped the sword, the playful air between us shifted into something more serious. That was the way with Arthur. When it came to training, he didn't mess around, and neither did I. If this boy was going to grow into the man I thought he could be, I had to push him hard.

I made the first move, a simple downward strike from the right. But he was ready, stepping back just out of reach. He countered with a quick lunge, aiming for my midsection. I sidestepped, but the boy anticipated it, rolling forward in a fluid motion and bringing his sword up—stopping just short of my groin.

Arthur grinned from the ground. "Got your balls, old man."

I shook my head, smirking. "What's the first thing I taught you, Arthur?"

"Never fall to the ground. If you fall, you lose," he recited, his grin fading.

"Then why are you down there? If your opponent had a friend, you'd be dead by now."

Arthur stood, wiping the dirt from his tunic. "This is for one-on-ones, Ser Edric. No knight would expect it. They've all had the same training, learned the same moves. You have to surprise your enemy. Isn't that what war's about?"

His words hung in the air, and I had to admit, the boy had a point. Sometimes, his mind outpaced his years, and it caught me off guard. What he said made sense—more than I cared to admit.

I sighed, rubbing the back of my neck. "You're right. But remember, once you've used it, they'll expect it next time. Don't waste it."

Arthur nodded, a serious look on his face. "Understood."

"Good. Now, let's go again. I want to see how fast you can counter if I press you."

He raised his wooden sword, and we began again. The soldiers watched with interest, but I could feel it deep down—this boy, this orphaned street rat I'd taken under my wing, was going to become something dangerous. One day, the world would tremble at the name Arthur.