Chapter 42

Chapter 42: Rebels in the woods

280AC, Kingswood, Baldur

It had been a week since he and his warriors had arrived within the Kingswood to take care of the bandits who had attacked the Royal Caravan. They had set about tracking them and followed their trail towards one of the many villages that dotted the Kingswood. The Kingswood was warmer than the great forests of the North, rainier, humid and with fewer beasts of danger than he was use to. The people of the Kingswood had generally avoided the Skagosi, no doubt intimidated by their impressive physiques and Baldur's own great reputation. The first contact that they had was with the village known as Sheep Creek.

Sheep Creek was a village on the banks of a large creek that flowed south towards the Wendwater. It sat near a series of damns that were dotted with fishing nets and tools used to fish salmon from the choke points that the river offered from the erected barriers. Above the village were clearings of grass lands on the hills where livestock could be seen roaming under the watchful gaze of herders. The forest wasn't nearly as thick around the village as the other area's they had traveled through. It was here that the trail that they had pursued had dissapeared, leaving questions as to what had become of the bandits. These were questions that Baldur fully intended to find out, by whatever means that it might take.

Baldur noted that the villages of the south were unlike those of Skagos as he rode into the center of the town at the head of a group of ten well armed men, leaving the rest within the outskirts to await his orders. On Skagos, walls of wood or other barriers were always seen erected around a village to keep raiders, animals and any other form of trouble out as much as possible. During the hard winters, a wall could save one from all manner of beasts that would be desperate enough to feed on the flesh of humans, or even the more common raids from rival clans. It was not unknown for the cannibal clans of the central parts of the Isle to band together and attack the smaller villages if hunger drove them enough. As a child, his father told him dark tales of whole villages being found in the spring with no signs of life, and little to point towards the cause. It was because of this, that they looked to the walls of their villages as lifelines in a sense. It was clear that villages in the south didn't hold these ideals in the same regard as they entered unhindered.

The village grew quiet as they laid eyes on the wild looking Skagosi men who had entered the confines of their village. Even the blacksmiths steady pounding on an anvil grew to a still as an elderly man shuffled his way forward in a dull brown robe with a slightly hunched appearance. He was mostly bald with grey tufts of hair coming from the sides of his head, faded from the ravages of time. "Welcome to Sheep Creek." The elderly man spoke in a steady voice towards Baldur.

"We are searching for a group of bandits who passed through this way." Baldur announced, staring around at the crowd as they stared warily back at the intimidating Skagossons atop the horses.

"Bandits are common in these parts, you will have to be more specific I'm afraid." The Elder replied as he shuffled closer.

"A week back a force of over thirty men attacked the royal party of Princess Elia. We are here to bring them to justice." Baldur explained to the Elder as he nodded his head. He certainly planned to even the score with the bandits, for they had made it personal by attacking his kin. His own father would hunt any who dared attack his clan and get his pound of flesh in return. Any Chieftain who failed to exact revenge would be looked down upon by his people, often times being swiftly replaced. Baldur couldn't really care less about his wife's side of the family, but he had a reputation to think about.

"Justice." The man spoke in a bitter voice. "For years these woods have been ripe with Bandits, yet the king has paid little attention to them. He levies his taxes, carries our youth off to war and forbids us to even hunt our own forests. We have bigger problems than to worry about bandits, for we have little of value to be taken. Perhaps you should ask the merchants or the high lords instead."

Baldur stepped down from the saddle of his great war horse and onto the muddy ground of the village, drawing whispers from the crowd as they saw his great height compared to their own as he walked forward to stop in front of the village elder. "These men have attacked my kin, a young boy and a woman. If I should find them hiding here, I shall consider you no different from them." Baldur informed the village elder.

"Be gone, we have no aid to offer." He reiterated, looking up towards the Skagosi Lord. With a nod, Baldur stepped away, his eyes sweeping over the village occupants before walking back towards his horse. As he mounted his horse, he cast one last look around the village before riding out. As the villagers watched the armed group disappeared down the road, a single falcon sat perched atop a nearby tree branch, watching the occupants intently.

Nightfall fell over the group of sixty assembled warriors as Baldur stood in the center of them, their attention all turned towards him. Ivar had spent the day watching the villagers and had confirmed that the Kingswood brotherhood had arrived a few days before and had dispersed into multiple groups. Some of them had headed south to sell wares that had been captured, and another large group had set off towards the North East with some captives, while some remained behind, guarding a few prisoners within the confines of one of the village houses.

"The Kingswood Brotherhood have marked themselves as our enemies with an attack on our Kin!" Baldur shouted out as the men yelled in agreement. "Tonight we send their allies a message. Do what you wish with the villagers, take whatever you can carry off and burn the rest." He announced as the men cheered loudly. "Any man who kills a Kingswood bandit gets a cask of ale, two if you can take them alive!" He offered as the Skagosi men cheered even louder. From Baldurs experience, women, killing and drink were the best ways to motivate a Skagosson. Combining those incentives was a sure way to get the most out of them on the field of battle.

With his piece spoken, they began moving into the brush on foot towards the village boundaries, leaving behind their mounts and heavy armor. Clad in furs, they would travel quietly across the damned parts of the creek where the water slowed, and fall on the unsuspecting villagers. Any scouts that the Kingswood Brotherhood had posted wouldn't likely be watching the deep waters for an armed group of assailants coming ashore. He would end the Brotherhood swiftly and bloodily if that was what it took to bring them to heel and get even with them.

Toothless Joe, 280AC, Kingswood  

A scream cut through the night from the edge of town, stirring Joe from his state of rest on the hay bails near the stalls. He had been having a pleasant dream, a dream of the fair Wenda, who he had always admired. With an irritated grunt he sat up and lifted his cap from his face to peer around to find the source of the scream. The only reason he was here, and not with his fair Wenda, was to keep watch over the village and report any valuable high borns that might come through. If it was one thing Joe exceeded at in his life, it was his ability to blend in and ferret out information. He neither had an imposing figure, nor a threatening one. When the term bandit came to mind, Joe certainly wouldn't be connected to the likes of the Kingswood Brotherhood, which was what made him perfect for what he did.

"What in the seven hells?" Joe yelled out as he stumbled to his feet, intent on finding out who had awoken him. The only response he received was another series of cries towards the river side bank of the town in the form of more screams. Villagers crept out of their homes into the village center as torches were lit, bathing the area in light as he focused his eyes to figure out what was happening.

A single young boy came hobbling towards the town center in a hurry. Joe recognized the boy, he often went by Tiny Tim. He was a run of a lad who had always had issues, though one wouldn't know it right now by the speed he pushed his small legs. The smiling knight had a strange soft spot for him, often giving his family coin and loot and ensuring he was well looked after. No bandit dared lay a hand on Tiny Tim, for the smiling knight would make sure to do much worse to them. Having the Kingswood Brotherhood leader with a personal vendetta against you was never safe, especially with the likes of the dangerous smiling knight.

"Raiders from the river-!" The boy warned loudly, though whatever else he had to say was cut off as he fell to the ground with a cry, a single axe protruding from his back. A giant of a man stepped into the torch light, his face showing in the light was one Joe instantly recognized from earlier that day. It was the leader of the savages that the king had dispatched, and by his actions so far, he wasn't in a merciful mood. The villagers reacted as one might expect, by running, as more savages stormed into the town center and began wreaking havoc on the place. A few braver men armed with pitchforks and weapons rushed to challenge them, though Joe wasn't about to be among them.

"I warned you not to cross me!" The Savage shouted as he leaned down and pried his axe from the still body of Tiny Tim. The blacksmith ran at him with a sword raised above his had, though he met his end swiftly as the Barbarian parried his blow and grabbed the older man by the neck before snapping it and dropping his lifeless body next to that of Tiny Tim.

Joe hadn't survived being a bandit these last few years by being foolish or brave. Looking around, he saw little option for escape, so he took the only chance he had at surviving and dove into a pile of wet and used hay. It stank of horse shit and piss, having been cleared out earlier that day, but it would save his life this night as a torch landed on the pile but sputtered out from the dampness. Burrowing himself deeper into the pile, he waited out the night as the screams of dying villagers, pleading women and chaos gave way to the celebratory sounds of the Savage victors. Try as he might to tune out the worst of it, he was still very aware of the torcherous screams of some of his comrades, who in the end, gave up details about the Kingswood Brotherhood that would lead to trouble, information that the Smiling Knight would reward him handsomely for.

As dawn sprang over the horizon, what was left of the town lay in silence, with the exception of a few moaning villagers that could be heard. Peaking his head through the odorous hay, Joe scanned the parts of the village he could see. The animals that had butchered the town were gone, leaving the pillaged remains of the town behind them and the dead bodies as well. It was now that he would have to make his escape and report back, for he had few other options. As much as he would like to desert when faced with the likes of these savages, it wasn't an option. The smiling knight would butcher his family before putting all of his efforts into finding him. He was stuck by the mans side, at least until someone more appealing and capable of protecting him came along.

Darting out from his hiding place, he worked his way through the town towards the edge of the river, ducking in between the huts as he went, peering in a few along the way. He would need supplies for his trip and it wouldn't hurt to have a bit of loot for himself and he knew just where to find it. Most of the village was stripped bare, impressively so at that. The savages were if nothing else, thorough looters of anything remotely valuable, and apparently even things that weren't, as he spotted a missing door that looked to be pried from its hinges. He soon found himself entering a familiar home, one that the smiling knight stopped by frequently in his travels. In the corner of the room, seemingly forgotten, was a wooden crutch belonging to Tiny Tim, leaning against the wall in a poor corner of the room by the fireplace.

Stepping in front of the said fireplace, he reached around towards the back of the stone construction and felt around with his hand before finding a lose stone and prying it loose to drop to the floor. After a brief moment of searching in the hole it had created, he pulled out a bag of coins with a relieved smile. Stashing the coins down the pocket of his tunic, he pried a few other stones from the wall to make sure it seemed as though the raiders had done it, to cover his tracks incase the smiling knight investigated. The bandit leader had advised them to stash the coins in such a place, in case they were ever needed. Joe had been lucky enough to see the place on an occasion he was present for the visit. Searching the rest of the house, he was able to find a few missed piece of food to take along with him, for the occupants no longer were in need. He would have to travel swiftly to keep ahead of the raiders and warn the Brotherhood in time. He was only one man, so he would make for where the smiling knight resided and hope that the savages followed the trail of another band of Kingswood members instead.

Helena, Kingslanding, 280AC

"He's gone." Hoster informed the room, before walking to stare out the nearest window of the red keep and out over the ocean below. Following the news of the attack on the Princess's carriage, the family had gathered in the infirmary to see to Edmure. At the time, the prospects looked to be fine and the boy seemed to be making a recovery, though that had all turned for the worst when infection set in. It had been a painful week for the Whents and the Tully's as they prayed fruitlessly to the seven for Edmure to beat the infection, though it seemed to have bared no fruit.

Her sister was devastated, if the loud sounds of sobbing were any indicator coming from the room. Shella was the first to rise from her seat and walk towards the doors in a hurry, no doubt to comfort their sister. She stopped beside Hoster to lay a reassuring hand on his shoulder and whisper a few words to him, then stepping inside the room to see to the mourning mother. Helena was never one to pray to the gods unless to keep up appearances, but she sent up a silent prayer in this moment, pleading that she would never have to suffer the loss of her own son. She couldn't imagine what it must feel like, for like Edmure with her sister, much of Helena's hopes were resting on her own son's future.

Lord Stark was the next to step forward stiffly, to give a few words in private to Hoster. The man gave a curt nod and a soft reply to whatever was whispered to him, before the Wolf Lord turned and set off at a swift pace, his stony face betraying nothing to those in the room. He would no doubt alert the king to what had happened, for it was an important matter, especially if he hoped to salvage whatever plans him and Hoster had cooked up. Helena had yet to figure out the full extent of the alliance between the Tully's and the Starks, but with Edmure's death, it was surely in jeopardy, and her own plans as well.

With the heir of Riverrun now dead, the question of who would inherit would soon rise. Generally speaking, the title should pass to her niece, Catelyn, though it wasn't unheard of for it to be passed to a brother. The rules regarding inheritance were fickle at best, often being a matter of might over right, especially in the Riverlands. Her father certainly wouldn't be pleased if the title passed to the Blackfish, in hopes of him getting married and having a son. In the eyes of the Riverland Lords as a whole, that may be the best option for Hoster to take, though he had many options, none good for the Whents.

Hoster could set aside Minisa in favor of a fertile wife in hopes of birthing a son, though given the man's deep feelings for her sister, that was unlikely to happen. Hoster was many things, a keen politician, ambitious and capable of great wit and ruthlessness if called upon, but above all of those, he loved his wife. She just couldn't see him setting Minisa aside under any circumstance. He would likely father a bastard and get him legitimized before it came to that. This left him with the option of passing the title to Brynden, Catelyn or Lysa.

By law, Catelyn came next in the line of inheritance and could take up the position of heir until she had a son of her own to inherit. Hoster was a young enough man that he wouldn't be dying from natural causes anytime soon. Catelyn had a sharp mind, and held a great love for her family as well. She always carried out Hoster's wishes with her head held high and truly took the words of her house to heart. The problem with her was, she was set to be married to Brandon Stark, heir to the Riverlands. If she were to inherit, it would be unlikely for the King to allow the marriage in fear of granting sole control of the Riverlands and the North to the Starks in the event of Hoster's demise. Outside of that detail, she was a woman and the Riverland Lords would stop at nothing to gain control of House Tully through marriage. It had always been a careful balancing act to keep the various lords pleased and in line, for unlike many other places in the 7 kingdoms, they were a divided people with a deep history of infighting. Helena was personally opposed to the idea of anything that threatened the pact between the Starks and Tully's, for having kin in the Starks would aid her son greatly.

Lysa was next in line after Catelyn, and also posed an issue to inherit. She was betrothed to a Riverlander Lord and one on the rise in recent years. With a blood claim to Riverrun and control through Lysa, they could potentially steal away the title of Lord Paramount, if they garnered the support. Hoster couldn't exactly break the betrothal either, not after the heir to House Roote had taken an arrow in protecting his daughter. Lysa was clearly infatuated with him and it a decision to separate the two would cause trouble within his home and around the Riverlands. Furthermore, Lysa was not nearly as strong as Catelyn was in spirit or mind. She had made strides since coming to court, according to Minisa, but she would be hard pressed to fill the role still. Despite this, Helena would rather see her as lady of Riverrun over Catelyn or Brynden, as it would be best for House Whent and her own son's future.

Brynden Tully was the last realistic option that Hoster may go with. The Blackfish was a well known and respected knight throughout the 7 kingdoms, and even the Riverland Lord's would think thrice before causing trouble with him. He was also as stubborn as an ox and often in spats with his brother over his ambitions. Be that as it may, he might still be willing to take action and bend to Hoster's will if the very future of House Tully was on the line, for he was a man that took his house words seriously, even if he defined them differently than Hoster himself. Brynden would neither be in the best interest of House Whent, nor for Helena's plans. His rise to Lord would firmly shut the doors of Kinship to Riverrun and the sway that Helena's sister could provide her within the halls. It would also ebb any future support in less popular decisions from the Riverlands if she needed the support. Hoster would jump at chances that gave clear benefits to his lands, even if it cost lives in the process and political maneuvering, but Brynden surely wouldn't. No, she would throw her weight in resisting that idea, no matter the other options.

Rising to her feet, she steadily made her way towards the infirmary. She would have to get it in her sister's mind to oppose any plan that left their blood from controlling Riverrun. She would offer her heart felt condolences, but the Whent sisters would work together to make their father proud, they always had and always would. It would not do well to see all his hard work fall apart at the end of his life, nor would she allow it to happen. In the coming weeks, she would need to influence where she could to keep him standing tall and do the best she could for her own son.