The beauty of the Reach

Endless plains overflowing with beautiful flowers, leafy forests full of life, streams with crystalline waters and cultivated fields that stretch away as far as the eye can see.

The Reach is beautiful, of that there is no doubt.

Damian is currently riding through a beautiful meadow that looks like a hideaway of the lost heaven. Around them was nothing but a field brimming with flowers of every color one could imagine, with not a living thing in sight other than the butterflies that flutter around the flowers and the small animals and insects that hide among the tall grass. This place inspires an unmatched peace and harmony. The high grasses, wild and free without having been touched by the hand of man, seem to be in the middle of an elaborate dance with the wind as a partner and the insects as the orchestra.

The shimmering grass, the colorful flowers, the warmth of the sun and the small animals and insects hiding in this beautiful garden that could have been plucked from the very heavens, a slice of the mythical Garden of Eden, all of this feels like a dream. A beautiful dream from which one could wake up at any moment.

This is the beauty of the Reach, a kingdom with more than 12 million inhabitants and a territory that extends for hundreds of thousands of square miles. It is so big one can easily find a large number of areas that have never been touched by the hand of man. Areas where mother nature is still the absolute ruler.

`The North is supposed to be almost twice as big as this... In truth Westeros is a huge continent, about the size of Australia I think.`

Damian stops his horse, a beautiful palfreys he bought from a village for 1 golden dragon which he named Marengo, and narrows his eyes.

"There." His voice is barely a whisper drowned out by the slight breeze.

The redhead pulls out the bow and picks up an arrow, closing one eye, straining the bow and aiming in the distance towards a patch of golden flowers. Taking a deep breath, he releases the arrow and it flies in a parabolic trajectory, it cuts through the air like a sword would cut through an enemy and lands in the grass with a sound inaudible to the redhead.

Damian exhales and nudges the horse's flanks with his heels, Marengo starts walking forward and the redhead guides him to the spot where the arrow got lost in the thick, glistening grass.

After a minute or two he reaches the patch of golden flowers and dismounts from the horse, he soon finds his arrow.

"Tsk, I hit it in the shoulder." He looks at the rabbit with the arrow stuck in its shoulder and picks it up with one hand. "I still need practice." The rabbit was forty meters away and he intended for the arrow to hit the left eye, or at least the head.

Damian takes the arrow out of the rabbit and cleans it with some grass before putting it back in his quiver. After tying the rabbit to his saddle he remounts the horse and proceeds towards a forest in the distance, where he too sees a stream.

This is Damian Artois' sixth solo day.

`Uncle Ralof must have returned to Greenwood by now, everyone knows of Gawain's "death".`

Sighing, he looks at the cloudless sky and hurries his horse. Marengo starts jogging and after two hours he reaches the forest.

Damian follows the sound of the water and reaches a stream one meter wide and about 10 centimeters deep, the crystalline waters run freely over the rocks forming small waterfalls that do not even reach his knees.

`It is a good place to set up camp for the day.` The redhead has been riding since dawn and it is already mid-afternoon, he does not want to push his horse too much because in case something happens to him he will be forced to cover the rest of the distance to Oldtown on foot.

Damian's savings barely reached 52 silver stags, his uncle gave him 2 golden dragons as a parting gift. He tried to refuse the money, his uncle had already done more than enough for him, plus he and Gertha might need that money in case of an emergency, but the old man was stubborn and refused to take no for an answer.

("I won't take no for an answer, Gawain, unless you want to go through with this crazy plan of yours on your own you will accept these coins.")

Damian unloads his supplies from the horse, removes the saddle, and ties Marengo to a tree surrounded by soft green grass. The rope with which he tied him is long enough for the horse to eat comfortably and drink water from the stream.

"There, boy." Damian hugs the horse's head and gives him a kiss. "You did a good job, now eat, drink and rest."

After setting up his camp he lights a fire and prepares the rabbit to cook.

`The rabbit fur will sell for a good price in the market. There is no need to waste resources, I would hunt some bigger animals to sell in some villages but hunting big prey without a hunting permit... This is not the time to become an outlaw, that can wait.`

The redhead seasons the rabbit meat and sets it to cook.

"It will take two or three hours to cook, meanwhile to train."

He takes his gladius and begins to practice different techniques for the rest of the afternoon, every so often he takes small breaks to drink water and check on the food.

`Rabbit with salt, pepper and thyme slowly cooked over an open fire. Who said a medieval traveler`s food sucks? Not even in a restaurant in the center of Paris would I eat fresher and tastier meat.`

After enjoying a delicious dinner, he saves the leftovers for the next day and goes into his tent for the night.

`Another day on the road.`

***

The moon shines and lights up the night sky surrounded by endless companions of all colors, who almost seem to compete against its dazzling silver glow. Between the branches of the trees the silver rays descend and cast mysterious shadows on the ground covered by soft and abundant grass.

Among the trees, guided by the distant glow of a bonfire, two men walk in silence.

"You sure `bout dis?" The first of them has a mace in his hand and looks nervously around him, as if expecting some monster to come out from behind a tree at any moment.

"Aye, and shut your trap." The second of them is not fazed by the dark of the night, but he seems on the verge of turning to his companion and forcibly shutting her mouth. He doesn't seem very patient.

"But what if-"

"He's just a boy, Kurz. We're going to steal his horse and money and go back to the camp with the others. Now shut up before he hears us and tries to run away."

"Naggle-" Kurz shuts up at the glare from his partner.

The two approach their victim's camp and see the horse tied up a few meters from the tent, the fire in the bonfire still burning quite brightly and illuminating the edge of the stream.

Naggle motions for Kurz to go get the horse while he goes to the tent.

`Be a good boy and don't resist, or you could lose your life.` Naggle draws his sword and opens the tent flaps. Inside the tent is a sleeping bag on a blanket, but no person in sight. `Has he gone to pee?`

Naggle turns and looks around the camp, before he can get up he feels a sting in his throat and can't breathe, he starts coughing and his mouth fills with blood. Looking down, he sees an arrow stuck in the throat.

"K`" He tries to call his partner's name, before he can pronounce the full name he hears the sound of something moving through the air and everything goes black.

His body falls to the ground right at the entrance of the tent. The sound attracts Kurz's attention and he turns.

"Naggle!" He screams in terror and runs to his partner's side, crouches next to him and tries to move him. "No! Naggle! Wake up!"

Naggle doesn't react and Kurz's stomach sinks. He grabs his mace with both hands and jumps up, turning from side to side looking for his enemy.

"Come out, wretch!" He shouts.

Nobody answers.

"Come out and die like a man!"

The breeze moves the branches of the trees and Kurz jumps from one side to the other, every second that passes he becomes more restless and fearfully looks at the shadows in the forest.

"Come out demon!"

There is a sound of something hitting the water and Kurz runs into the stream with his mace raised. He frantically hits imaginary enemies and lets out war cries.

"I'll kill your fucking horse-" Before he can finish the sentence he feels something crash into his right shoulder, the impact so powerful that his body twists slightly to the side.

"Eh?" Confusion gives way to pain as he fixes on the arrow he has stuck in his shoulder. Before he can cry out in pain another arrow flies out of the night and pierces his leg. He falls to the ground.

Pain and confusion give way to terror, Kurz knows he's screwed and starts to beg.

"Please no! Don't kill me! I- I have wife an- and children! I- I will do anything! Please!"

"Anything?" A voice sounds from the forest, the voice is low, a whisper that echoes in the darkness of the night like a scream in the light of day.

"Anything!" Kurz promises, almost crying in pain.

"Throw your mace into the stream, and your dagger."

"Ay- Aye!" Kurz complies, and a figure leaps from a branch, landing gracefully and almost soundlessly on the ground.

"Alright, Kurz, was it?" The figure is not very tall, he would reach his shoulder if he were standing, but for some reason Kurz feels as if he is looking at a demon, not a human. Perhaps it's his figure hidden by the veil of night, perhaps it's the bow in his hands and the arrow that points straight at his face, or perhaps it's an illusion caused by the pain and terror he is feeling.

"Aye!" Kurz nods as he trembles in his boots, pain pulsing through his thigh and shoulder like the beats of a drum.

"'Go back to the camp with the others,' that's what your partner said. Tell me who those 'others' are and where the camp is. Don't think about lying or hiding anything from me, killing you isn't the worst thing I can do to you." The voice holds a dark promise and Kurz feels a cold chill run through his entire body.

Somehow he knows that this boy- this man is not making empty threats.

"Crey, Dacks and Jayde. T- they are ou- my friends."

"And your camp?"

"It's about a mile to the east-" Before he can finish he hears the sound of an arrow cutting through the air and feels a burning sensation in his ear. "Ah!"

"Lie to me again and it will be worse than losing half your ear." The figure places another arrow on the string and points at him again. "I'll make you a deal to encourage you to be honest, if you answer my questions with the truth and only the truth I won't shoot you again, nor will I cut you with my sword. It's a very generous deal, don't you think?"

Kurz nods frantically, finally seeing a light at the end of the tunnel.

`If I tell him everything he will let me live, I'm sorry friends, but every man for himself.`

"I won't lie I swear it by the Gods!"

"Keep the Gods out of it. Swear on your head. Which I will take if you break your vow."

"A-aye." Kurz stammers swallowing hard.

"I will ask again: where is your camp?"

"Following the stream upstream, maybe half a mile, maybe a little more. I can't gauge distance accurately!" He hastens to add when he sees the figure tug a little on the bowstring.

"Good, you've been honest." The figure lowers the bow and puts the arrow in his quiver, Kurz feels the anxiety and fear leave his body.

`I will live!`

"Your friends and you..." The figure walks a few steps towards him, the moonlight hitting his curls, red like the flames of the bonfire, and illuminating his blue eyes with an ominous light. "You are bandits, right?"

All the anxiety and fear come back stronger than before and Kurz's whole body begins to tremble in terror.

"Y- You prom-" Before he can finish his body falls to the ground, like a puppet whose strings have been cut.

***

Damian still has his right hand extended towards Kurz, he sighs and lowers his hand.

"I promised I won't hurt you with my arrows nor my sword. I didn't say anything about my throwing knives."

The redhead reaches down and rips his knife from the bandit's left socket, cleans it of blood using the Kurz's shirt, and stores it in its place.

"Sorry for the ruckus, Marengo." He looks at the horse and he looks back at him. "It seems your rest will be interrupted, my friend. We will no longer be able to stay here."

He looks at the two corpses with annoyance, in truth he is irritated because he values the health and well-being of his horse a lot. Damian has always loved animals, and although Marengo has been his for less than a week, he already considers him an important companion.

"Now the loot, as the saying goes: Thief who robs a thief has a hundred years of forgiveness. I can use more than 100 years for all I have planned, so maybe I should rob more thieves."

***

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