Arc 4 - Bye bye frozen lands

The emotions that Ikarus felt at that moment are many, the most predominant of them being betrayal.

Loren.

A kind old man he met on the road so many weeks ago.

Someone with whom he traveled for several days.

Someone whom he came to consider a friend.

A bandit

Ikarus grits his teeth hard. He takes a step back and walks away from the old man. Loren looks at him questioningly. The shinobi grabs his arm and pulls him towards a table.

"We have a lot to talk."

"Ikaru-"

"Bloodbrothers."

The expression on the old man's face changes.

His back straightens and his eyes narrow.

"A farm two days northeast of Fjorn. It was attacked recently, between a week and two ago. Was it your gang?"

Loren looks at him.

He sees the desperation in Ikarus's eyes, his hard face and his clenched fists.

After a while of silence he finally answers.

"No."

"Are you sure?"

"I am aware of every movement of the band."

"But how can-"

"That territory is controlled by another group."

"Another group?"

"Aye"

***

`Westeros is messed up`

The conversation with the old man lasted well into the morning.

He learned a lot.

Giantborn is in White Harbor.

Alaric on Bear Island.

The only two leaders in the Barrowlands were the old man and Frosteye.

The group that controls that territory is led by Brandon Smallfoot.

***

Two days later Ikarus finds Smallfoot's camp.

The camp is located on the banks of the Froststream. Unlike the Bloodbrothers' camp, this camp does not have a wall. There are a few dozen tents scattered along the riverbank, a few campfires, and about thirty men scattered around the camp.

Ikarus enters the camp.

A bandit sees him.

"Hey-"

He can't finish his sentence. A sword separates his head from his body.

Another nearby bandit yells something but after a few seconds his body falls limp to the ground.

A pool of blood forms around him.

And so the massacre begins.

A butchery.

The shinobi is brutal.

Every hit is deadly.

Some bandits were lucky for a quick death.

Others...

***

Watching the demon massacre his men, Brandon tried to run away.

He took a horse and galloped at full speed.

"Fuck! Faster!"

He looks back and sees no one chasing him.

He relaxes but keeps galloping.

Then he feels something grab his shirt.

And suddenly he is no longer riding his horse but lying on the ground.

The world is spinning and his whole body aches.

He takes out a dagger and holds it with both hands.

He looks around frantically.

He doesn't see anyone.

He stumbles to his feet.

"I must have hit a branch or something." He mutters under his breath.

He starts walking in the opposite direction of the camp.

"I have to find that fucking horse and get the hell out of here."

He walks a few meters and sees something out of the corner of his eye.

A human figure leaning against a tree with his arms crossed.

He jumps back in surprise.

When he sees that it's just a kid he relaxes for a second but then sees something.

Blood.

The boy is covered in blood.

"Shit."

He tries to walk away but trips over a root and falls on his ass.

The boy, no- the demon starts walking towards him. His green eyes sparkle devilishly. Brandon tries to get away, crawling on the ground away from the demon.

He gets up and starts running.

He runs and runs.

He jumps over roots and weaves through trees.

Far from the devil.

After about half an hour he comes to a creek. He falls to his knees and with both hands grabs water and throws it on his head. Afterwards he dips his head in the creek drinking directly from it.

He sticks his head out of the creek and sees something reflecting in the water.

His blood runs cold in his veins.

The demon is behind him. His eyes shine menacingly, a terrifying smile appears on his face.

"D-demon!"

He turns around and is face to face with the demon. He tries to get up but a hand grabs his neck. Before he can blink he crashes into a tree.

Crack.

Pain.

A lot of pain.

He screams in agony.

But he gets no break.

The demon is next to him.

He grabs his shirt and pulls him up.

Brandon looks at the shiny emerald eyes.

The demon is saying something but he doesn't understand it.

The demon starts walking with him still hanging by his shirt, the demon stops after a few seconds.

He suddenly drops him.

He falls into the creek.

Cold water helps him clear his head.

The demon starts speaking, this time Brnadon can hear his words.

"A farm in the middle of a small plain, two days away from Fjorn. A girl of twelve namedays and a boy of six. Both with curly black hair and purple-blue eyes. What did you do to them?"

Brandon swallows hard, he remembers them.

He knows that if he tells the truth he will die.

He knows that if he lies he will die.

The demon feels his fear.

"Lie and your death will last for weeks."

The bandit is shivering, and not from the cold.

He has no way out.

For the first time in years he prays to the gods.

But no god answers him.

There is only the demon, a demon that is getting more and more impatient.

And Brandon decides to speak.

He opens his mouth and tells everything.

He recounts the raid on the farm.

How they took the children as prisoners.

How the girl tried to run away with the boy and she ended up falling off a cliff.

How he sold the boy along with twenty others to a slaver.

His honesty was not rewarded.

For every word that came out of his mouth the demon's anger grew more and more.

His death was not quick.

*** Interlude ***

The North is large, it occupies a third of the continent.

But it is also one of the kingdoms with the fewest inhabitants. The land is hard, the weather even more so.

Not much happens in these lands. Rarely does anything exciting happen.

This decade proved to be different. An exception to the rule.

It all started with a tourney.

Then a kidnapping.

A mad king killed several nobles.

And a war started.

The Rebellion did not touch the frozen lands, most of the battles were fought in the Riverlands. But while the brave warriors fought, the cowardly and greedy took advantage of their absence to enrich themselves. Many bandit gangs appeared in the North. Many formed by army deserters.

When they returned from the Rebellion, many lords began cleanup duties, marched through their lands, and hunted down criminals.

Lady Dustin didn't.

She stayed in her castle mourning the deaths of Lord Willam and Lord Brandon.

She ignored the smallfolk's distress calls.

She was indifferent to the many atrocities that happened in her domain.

But she couldn't ignore Winterfell's letter.

Lord Stark wanted to know the state of her lands.

He offered his help, and so the Lady of Barrowlands' anger rose.

She doesn't need that cockless coward's help.

That halfwit mutt led her husband to his death and not even had the courtesy to return his body home. He cremated him in the southern deserts and only brought back his bones. But the mutt did go to the trouble of carrying his sister's body from Dorne to Winterfell.

The day after receiving that letter a knight arrived at her court.

Hearing the story of Lord Frost's corruption she decided to take matters into her own hands. She traveled with two dozen guards. She was going to deal with that lord personally.

Unfortunately, on her way, she was attacked by several groups of bandits. Her well-trained guards won every battle, but the sheer number of criminals left Lady Dustin shocked.

She, for the first time in a year, paid attention to her lands. She saw the corruption, she saw how low they have fallen.

And she decided to do something about it.

For her Lord Husband , who loved these lands more than anything.

And all thanks to the mercy shown by a young foreigner.

Ikarus Senju, Lady Dustin would remember that name.

***

In another world without Ser Gregor and his story, Lady Dustin would have spent the next few days hiding in her bedroom, drunk and cursing the Starks.

The Barrowlands would be prey to various bandit gangs for many years to come. And Lady Dustin would continue to avoid her duties for a long time.

But this is not that world.