Chapter 11: Goodwills

"The crown cannot give you much at the moment, Lord Tybur."

It was early in the morning, the day the Riverlanders and the Northmen were about to depart for their respective homes. Willam, too, was about to leave with them, but at first light, a matter was raised by the Grand Maester. It was a matter of gold for his services during the war and for him to start anew as the lord of Harrenhal.

"How much is the crown willing to give?" Willam asked simply.

"At most, we can spare around a thousand gold," Munkun answered. "The crown needs to pay for the reparations of the war. Many men were lost, especially during the battle of Rook's Rest..."

Willam nodded. "Then my house can wait for the rest."

"The... rest?"

"Consider it a debt," said Willam. His eyes turned to the window, watching as the Riverlanders and Northmen gathered on the street to march. "I trust the crown will pay it in the near future?"

Munkun paused for a moment, struggling to find an answer, before humming and avoiding the young man's gaze. "I will notify the new Master of Coin once they have been chosen by the council of regents."

"For a council of men, they are quite slow in choosing someone," Willam stated.

"Many heads often make the process slower," Munkun smiled. "But because of it, they ensure someone competent is chosen."

"Of course." Willam smiled back. "Well then, if there's nothing more..."

"One more matter, Lord Tybur," Munkun stopped him, causing him to turn around again. "I suggest that you decide on your house's heraldry soon. A name is not enough as a sign of nobility."

Willam nodded. "I will send a rider to King's Landing once I have decided on it, Grand Maester. Do not worry."

***

As the sun shone directly overhead, Willam sat on a black mare in the courtyard of the Red Keep. He watched as a carriage was filled with gold—his carriage—now guarded by men he had just hired from among the northerners. Beside him stood one of their leaders, the so-called Hallis Hornwood of Hornwood.

"And your men do not want to be sworn to me?" Willam asked as more gold was poured into the carriage.

"You can ask them yourself," said Hornwood. "But we've sworn to stick together once we march south. Now that our homeland is free from us, we can go wherever we wish. Most of us want to cross the sea and fight battles on the other continent, and hopefully die there."

"Why not marry the widows of the riverlands?" Willam asked again. "I am sure they would welcome strong northerners. Live a quiet life rather than the brutal one of a sellsword."

Hornwood chuckled. "Some are old, can't even get it up anymore. But some are still young, still have hot blood in them. The war might be over, but their bloodlust hasn't been satisfied yet. If you want men sworn to you, look elsewhere. I am sure there are plenty who want to serve The Titan, a new lord such as yourself. Our connection is just about gold, nothing else."

"It is worth a try," Willam said, turning to the distant group of Riverland and Northmen men-at-arms gathering to march. When he looked at them, he saw that they too were looking at him, but their eyes were filled with fear and some even with contempt. Perhaps they had seen him turn to his 'other form,' or perhaps someone they knew had been killed by him in a siege. "After all, you and your men are the only ones who at least look at me with indifference."

"Can you blame them?" Hornwood hummed, also noticing the stares. "They see you as if you were a walking, talking dragon."

Willam looked at Hornwood with amusement. "I thought Targaryens were the ones that should be viewed like that."

"Targaryens command their dragons to breathe fire," Hornwood said simply. "But you, you breathe it yourself. No one around you is safe from your wrath, while Targaryens cannot call their dragons when they are threatened within their walls."

"You flatter me."

"It's no flattery," Hornwood scoffed. "But honor is still honor. Perhaps in their eyes, you betrayed them after what you did at Rook's Rest, Driftmark, Maidenpool, and the Eyrie. You southerners might have lost the meaning of honor, but we northerners remember."

"Does the north remember when Rhaenyra Targaryen put the king's late brother to death in his own bed?" Willam commented.

"Aye," Hornwood hummed. "But the north remembers when Aemond Targaryen murdered Prince Lucerys as well. The difference is, the culprit is still alive to this day."

"Indeed," Willam turned his eyes to Hornwood and looked him up and down. "Then I guess our connection will remain chained in gold instead of oaths."

Hornwood nodded. "Tis' for the best."

***

It was quiet all the way on the road to Maidenpool, where a fair was to be held first in that town to arrange marriages between the displaced northerners and Riverland widows. The whole army was encamped outside, and the festival itself was held just outside the town's perimeter, at the far west of the breached walls, where all the people could see Willam's handiwork. It was held outside due to the town still being under heavy reparations, and perhaps Lord Walys Mooton wanted to cause strife between all those who saw the damages and Willam, but of course, no one could truly know the workings of a human mind. But aside from the repairs, there was nothing else; the carcass of Willam's titan form had already evaporated completely, even to the bones.

As Willam walked outside his tent and washed his face in a bowl placed nearby, he looked around. His tent was far away from everybody else's, though he took no part in that placement. In the distance, he could see the men sworn to the other lords gathered around a fire to warm themselves in the cold morning. Most wore a frown as they saw Willam; some bore fear in their eyes.

The young blonde man could only sigh, a mist coming out of his mouth. Then, he turned his eyes away from those discontented folk and noticed a small gathering near the breached wall. It was Lord Walys himself, having a small meal as he saw his subjects bringing wood and cloth in preparation for the fair. The wall itself had not been fixed yet, untouched.

Seeing this, Willam suddenly hummed, as if he had thought of something. He went inside his tent once more, wore some proper clothing, and finally, he went to his horse, riding towards where Lord Walys sat. When he approached, he was stopped by the household guards, their spears pointing at him.

"I wish to speak with your lord," Willam simply said.

"Our lord is eating," the guard replied calmly.

"Let him through," a voice came from the gathering. It was the lord himself, hearing the conversation. The guard merely bowed, and Willam dismounted, walking towards Walys. He saw the lord eating some sausage, calmly watching the scenery.

"Good morrow, young lord," said Walys. "Tybur, was it? A strange name, but fine nonetheless."

"Thank you, Lord Walys," Willam said. "The name is from an old tale I've known since I was a child."

"I've not heard of it," Walys shrugged.

"Tis' smallfolk's tale."

Walys stared at Willam, looking him up and down as if trying to gauge his intention, but quickly gave up. "So, what have you come to meet me for, Lord Willam? Or are you just trying to see me weep over what you did to my town?"

"I apologize for that; it was war, as you know," Willam said calmly. "Your kin is headstrong."

Walys scoffed. "We wouldn't be here if we weren't. But there are times to know when to give up, I agree on that. I've no time to blame you as much as I blame the late prince and my kin for not kneeling and causing further damage to the town. Now, state your business."

"It's related to those walls, actually," Willam stated. "I've come to offer you goodwill, as we will be neighbors from now on."

"Aye, the new lord of Harrenhal. Good luck with that," Walys chuckled. "What is your goodwill? I doubt you'll be able to pay for the repairs of my walls that you yourself destroyed."

Walys looked at Willam dead in the eyes and found no disagreement in them. The old lord raised his brow, confused. "You shall? Quite generous."

Willam shook his head. "No. I've no gold for that. I'll offer you a much quicker solution for patching up those breached points. It will help my image in the minds of Riverland lords and their subjects as well."

Walys got more curious. "Which is?"

Willam only smiled at the old lord and walked forward. Walys put down his plate and stood up in confusion and slight panic. "Wait, Lord Tybur, what are you—"

Before he could continue speaking, a bright flash of light suddenly came from Willam, blinding everyone around the area. Slight panic began to ensue, especially from those who had seen this phenomenon before. Swords were pulled even though they knew they were meaningless; some hid behind their tents, and those running errands around the fairgrounds ran away in fear.

Now, a titan stood in front of Lord Walys, its bone-white skin slightly reflecting the morning light, its helmet-shaped head for all to see. The guards of Lord Walys rushed to him, but the lord stopped them, his gaze fixed upwards to the face of the titan.

At first, the titan looked down at Walys, but then he turned around and walked towards the breached walls.

"Fetch my horse!" Lord Walys shouted. And so a horse was fetched for him. He rode to the breached wall, which by the time he arrived, the titan was already kneeling there, his hands touching the ground.

From those hands and fingers came the bone-like material that covered the whole body of the titan, slowly spreading around the breached area as if it were fast-moving ice. Eventually, the bone-like material covered the entire area, becoming the new wall that protected the town. Its shape was unlike the other wall areas. It was unstructured, full of sharp points at the near ends of where the material grew, shaped like stone growing from the ground, nigh-random, wood-like.

After that, the titan stayed there, kneeling, but Willam emerged from the top of the head of the titan, now standing just at the peak of the titan's fifty-foot height. He simply jumped from it towards the newly built wall and made his way to the side of the wall that hadn't been destroyed, and by that time, Lord Walys was there, surrounded by the town garrison ready to fight.

"Lord Tybur," said Walys. He didn't know what to say.

"This is my goodwill to you, Lord Mooton," Willam simply said, shrugging. "The time of war is over, it's time for reparations."