4

We had been forced to remain at the outpost for another week.

Bryle had thankfully not left this plane of existence but it had been touch and go for some days. Moving him would have risked his shaky recovery, more so as it had been raining cats and dogs nearly every minute since the battle. Looting the battlefield had been a pain, burning the dead clansmen on a pyre even more so as getting a fire going gave even my most able men fits in this weather. Still, they got it done and the smell of burned pork was still absolutely everywhereeven after the flames had long since died.

The pyre had been nothing short of gigantic and easily the biggest fire I had ever witnessed, in this life or my last one. It had actually been a primal sort of beautiful if one did not stop to consider the fuel the flames used. Even now I think back on the fire an feel a shiver crawl down my back. I had stared in the fire for a long while, feeling that I owned the dead at least to see their final moments. Even so I can still not say if I had been imagining things as I more felt than saw somethingmoving in the flames before it vanished again. Had I not been aware of magic being a thing on this planet I would have dismissed it at once. But knowing what I did...I wondered.

This of course did not keep me from being hellishly busy over the next few days as our departure had to be prepared, the gathered loot distributed and a lot of people convinced that yes, moving and settling in my lands would be for the best. Really.

Well, more often than not I wasn't actually sure if it would be for the best in the long run. And I really had nothing I could force them with from a legal standpoint. I was the one with the weapons or better said the guys wielding the weapons, but straight out forcing them to move just rubbed me the wrong way even if it would be very much normal as the Westerosi understood it. This left me with the arduous task of speaking to a lot of people either one on one or in small groups. Those I and my men had saved were easily convinced, those that had migrated to the settlement from the surrounding woods during our absence less so.

As we set out I had a trek of nearly one hundred and fifty people following me, with the rest staying behind in the newly named settlement. 'Wolfs Crossing' wasn't such a bad name all told. I had expected the new inhabitants to be just about as creative as my own smallfolk had been as they named Rytherport. Bah, still couldn't quite get over the fact that they just smashed my family name together with the fact that yes, it was a port, to name the place. But oh well, no use crying over spilt milk.

Riding at the head of the column with half my mounted men I mentally drift to other matters. I had my other riders scouting ahead as the people following me would be moving slowly and I did not want to risk running into yet another party of wildlings or whatever else was lurking in these dark woods. The spear militia I had recruited out of the just departed settlement were bringing up the rear with small groups patrolling up and down next to the caravan. I was painfully aware that our group would be very easy to attack as we could only move as fast as our slowest member. Considering that there were a lot of children among the smallfolk that had chosen to follow me one can easily estimate that we were far from the fastest group to ever cross the wolfswood.

At least my men had looted enough valuables off the Thenn and the other raiding parties we had put to the sword before that I would be easily able to feed the smallfolk and get them to my lands in some comfort. I chose to overlook that most of the money I would be using had been looted from the houses of Branch and Woods, didn't like those two anyway. Still...as I glance back and see the long line of peasants stretching back through the thick vegetation I sigh. I really hope that both lords had better things to do than to make an issue out of the ill gotten gains I was using for just means...or that they had a lot less smallfolk to call their own while my own numbers had swelled. If they did take exception I was actually prepared to offer them some sort of weregild for the taken peasants. Something like a silver a person or something like that. Settling them in new lands and supporting them so that they would not starve during the first snow would have cost them more so I hoped that they would recognize the fairness of the offer if it came to that. Otherwise I might have to involve lord Glover, which I really would rather not.

Speaking of ill gotten gains. There had been a surprising amount of coin amongst the Thenn, almost twenty golden dragons in bronze and silver coins had been found on their persons. As they had no use for the coins north of the wall it had been a mystery and remained one until one of the Thenn taken prisoner finally talked after my men had gotten a little enthusiastic in questioning him. As I had walked onto the scene I had been hard pressed to hide my wince at the state of the young man but I managed, if only just. The information I had been told a moment later also eased my conscience at least a little.

It seems my interrogation of the wildling prisoners taken earlier had been a little to imprecise. While they had indeed entered the north by climbing the wall – and losing a third of their number doing so – the Thenn at least had not intended to return north of the wall the same way. Somehow the youth didn't know they had gotten the cooperation of a 'rogue` ironborn captain, who had agreed to ferry them back over the bay of ice nearly three month in the future...for a price. It seems that the large number of prisoners had not only been to carry the loot but also to be taken as thralls and saltwives, at least some of them.

It seems there was at least some contact with the free folk neither I, nor anyone else, had been aware of. That it was through the ironborn of all people really irked me something fierce but it also offered opportunity. If the wildlings on the frozen shore had some dealings with `southerners` without gutting them on the spot I might still have a chance to get at least some of them to move south before the night king could get them. Oh, I had already buried my plan of simply having them migrate to my lands over the last weeks. What I had seen and experienced cured me of any fantasy of the `good` free folk that I might have had. I had since adapted and would take a stab at it another way.

I still intended to trade with the `true` north as some inhabitants called it, but drawing people south would have to wait at least some time. Instead I would try to found a small trading settlement on the frozen shore and see if I could get into contact with some of the more moderate tribes. At the very least I could offer to act as intermediary between the wildling tribes under Mance Rayder and Lord Stark once the walkers started...well...walking again. Having a viable shot at negotiating might avoid the whole `storm the wall` clusterfuck. It might even find the free folk south of the wall before they could be turned into wights. Time would tell.

Any cannibal I or my men encountered would be put to the sword on principle, though. Burned as well, of course. For those...creatures...there would only be death, but I would make sure that what died once also stayed dead – contrary to what those ironborn crazies believed.

How would I contact those moderate tribes one might ask? Well, that was one of the more interesting developments the last week had yielded. Brigitte, the wildling woman we had captured had actually meant her surrender after the battle and saved the life of Bryle as the captured Thenn made a break for freedom. I still remembered the moment I stumbled over to my friend's resting place with half a dozen nearly asleep men at my back, having been drawn in by shouting. Arriving I found the woman and her two family members – Thorre and Shale – protectively over my friend fending the other wildlings we had taken prisoner with makeshift weapons.

I had not hesitated but instantly attacked with my men, the wildlings melting before our fury like snow in Dorne. Bryle, who had been awake, if in a lot of pain, later told me that the Thenn had challenged the three to step away so that they could kill one of the kneeler's leaders. They had not and instead protected him with their life and three table legs. Likely their motivation had been self preservation as I would have hunted the escaping wildings down in a hurry but even so they had saved my friend, which had earned them a lot of respect in my eyes and those of my men. The other wildlings only earned my anger and a lot of contempt as they had killed six of my men, two guards and a further four in the wild melee around my friend's sickbed.

The three had been offered their freedom that night. Free to leave north if they wished to as long as they swore not to harm any northmen on their way back to their home. They had carefully considered it but declined, saying that they would rather stay south with me if I would have them. North only death awaited them, they said without getting into more detail. I of course knew more than they likely suspected, so I refrained from sticking my nose deeper into their history.

Their deed just as much as their decision caused them to be quickly integrated into the group. Surprisingly fast all told, but I was glad for it. They seemed to have accepted their new lot in life and looked content. Now time would tell if they actually owned up to what they had promised. And while I had not yet approached them about my idea of using them to contact some of the northern tribes I was reasonably sure that I could get them to do it or at least to act as guides once the time came. Until then I would keep them close and keep a very careful eye on them. That old maxim of keeping your friends close but enemies closer always looked flawed to me, but now I found myself in a situation where I would actually live it as all three were capable warriors even if they did not have any formal training.

Freeing them had been a risk already as was allowing them to stay. More so as I would have to keep them at my side and build a lot of trust if I wanted them to go north again, something they likely would not be happy about. As such I took a big risk and replaced Brynden with Shale as my second sworn sword. My decision lost me a lot of good will with my men despite Shale´s part in Bryle´s rescue but I retained their respect nonetheless and none questioned me openly. Shale – being a youth of barely eighteen – quite obviously felt honoured by the trust I placed in him and very much determined as I told him that he would have to prove to the other man that he actually was worth the position. What I didn't tell him was that Wallace would break him like a twig if he looked at me funny and that I gained some control over Thorre and Brigitte, his father and sister, through him. A hostage he was not and I would have to trust him with my wellbeing… but if I came to harm through his family he would be the one feeling my displeasure first. A sort of mutually assured destruction. I would see if it worked out in time.

Thorre had obviously understood what I had been doing but only nodded in acceptance, no anger being visible in his eyes. Respect had to be earned, just as much as a place at the fire so to speak. He had always known this and could accept it well enough. As did his daughter even though I did not think that she was aware what exactly had been going on.

Shaking myself out of my memories I glance back where Wallace and Shale shadowed me on top of their own horses. I smile as I spot the jerky movements Shale was still prone to on top of his steed. Getting him to learn riding had been quite the adventure and just as funny, at least for those watching. He was set to hate horses for life it seemed but this would not free him from riding one. I had him kitted with Brynden's old armour and he still moved in it with great caution and an even greater sense of wonder, never having worn anything like it before. Thankfully both men had a similar stature but even so I would have to drag him to a smith once we reached the Motte as the armour had to be fitted by a specialist to be truly effective. Wallace had also taken to teaching him the sword and shield, to which he was taking slowly. I could already see that he was not particularly talented with both but would more than make up for it by being stubborn as a mule. Already I had caught him thrice in the middle of the night swinging a practice sword at a straw dummy.

He would do just fine.

As we moved – or crawled if one looked at our speed – through the wolfswood in the direction of Deepwood Motte nothing much of note happened. No attacks in the night, no sudden bear sightings, not even all that much bad weather. But even without any distractions on the way we took a long time to get to the castle as we moved at a snail's pace. It had gotten so bad that I nearly was at a point where I would just take my men and go on ahead to escape the boredom. In the end I controlled myself, telling myself in my mind that every day I wasted in the northern hinterlands was one more day I would stay away from the total fuckup the south was sure to be at this point. The riverlands especially were – if I remembered the books right – currently an absolute quagmire of feuding houses as about half the nobles sworn to the Tully's chose to follow the mad king instead. I had little motivation to get into that mess, all told.

Being bored also yielded unexpected results of a sort. In the month it took us to reach our destination Wallace and I had managed to raise Shale's skill with the sword from non-existent to amateur, which was quite the accomplishment I would say. Also the wolves following little Bethany around were growing frighteningly fast but stayed well behaved even if their mistress wasn't around. They weren't direwolves but a large breed nonetheless and shouldn't have been this easily controlled. That they were fed my suspicion that the little girl had at least some warging ability hidden away somewhere, which made it all the more important to get her to my lands in one piece. Not that I worried about that, the little monsters she had adopted would likely rip the arm off anybody daring to touch her.

Bryle was also slowly recovering but would never fight again, at least not without a horse to carry him around. He took it in good cheer, glad to be alive and reasonably intact. During the journey from the Crossing he had also taken to speaking a lot to Brigitte. I didn't quite know what to think of it but refrained from meddling with some effort. I didn't expect anything to come of it but if it did...well, would there be an easier way to gain an ally for my `northern plans`? I think not.

As the ironwood walls of Deepwood Motte appeared on the horizon after four weeks of travelling at a pace I would have been able to hold indefinitely while walking backwards I breathed a sigh of relief.

Finally.

I left most of my men and the refugees to settle on the hill the banners had been camping half a year earlier, unwilling to lead them into the Motte as I did not know how that would be received. Instead I moved ahead with only my two (more and less) trusted guards and was received by Lord Glover's castellan, a middle aged man missing one arm in the courtyard.

"Lord Ryther", he greets with a slight bow, "we have been expecting you for nearly a moon now."

I twitch at being reminded that I was actually quite late considering the initial planning. Still, I have an easy way out and nod grimly.

"Aye, good sir. I was...delayed… as we had to escort those we rescued from the raiders to a safe haven. Saving their lives only to leave them to fend for themselves immediately after wasn't something I or lord Boyle could condone."

"Where IS lord Boyle, Milord?", the man asks at once after accepting my explanation of the late arrival. Really, what else could he do as the refugees were clearly visible through the opened gates from our current position.

"Badly wounded in the fighting.", I answer at once looking troubled. "He lost a leg and while we did what we could I would appreciate it if the maester could take a look at him as soon as possible."

The castellan goes white at the news and sends for the master at once before turning back to me, his posture having calmed a lot from the initial anger I had noticed at my arrival.

"Has the raven from lord Glover arrived with my new orders?", I inquired politely as I watched the portly maester employed by the Glovers hurry through the gates with two assistants struggling to follow him weighted down by a large chest each.

"Yes, Milord.", the man confirms at once and hands me a letter, "it arrived three weeks past as we were expecting your arrival. Whatever information is in there will be out of date by a moon at least."

Grunting in acknowledgement I carefully break the wax seal and unroll the scroll.

Brynden, Darren,

by now you will have dealt with the wildlings infesting my holdings. The war goes well as the Vale and Riverlands have joined their hosts to ours. I will not write more here as one never knows if a message can be intercepted. Head for Seaguard by ship, I will meet you there. You should have one suitable, I think. Send a raven to Seaguard as you get this message, I require a report of the wildling situation and what you can still bring as reinforcement after the skirmishing.

Galbart Glover

Setting the scroll down I mull over the contents. A raven could only carry so much paper, so it wasn't a surprise that the letter was as short on letters and information as it was. Turning to the castellan I handed him the scroll, much to his surprise.

"Read it yourself", I state, "it seems I will require paper, quill and a raven for Seaguard before the day is out. Can you arrange this?"

"Of course", he nods before gesturing for one of the servants nearby to arrange it.

It takes not even half an hour for me to find myself inside a small room bearing little else but a desk and a chair, with the necessary writing supplies nearby. I stare at the empty parchment for a long moment before writing a small report.

Lord Glover,

300 wildlings put to the sword. Half a dozen escaped north. Lord Boyle wounded heavily, lost a leg and will be unable to fight in the war. Lost half our men but set goal accomplished. Agreement between raiders and ironborn discovered. Ships are set to meet them and bring them north again eight weeks from now at the shore of the Bay of Ice. Will be able to raise initial numbers and arrive by ship as soon as transport can be arranged.

Lord Ryther

Setting the quill down after signing the report in the tiny corner left over after writing the rest I nod to myself. Everything of note was within and contrary to Lord Glover's message mine wouldn't bring any harm to the rebellions cause if intercepted. What could a potential enemy use it for, after all? The reinforcements I was bringing along were all but inconsequential in the greater scheme of things, as was the information of wildings or the ironborn cooperation they had somehow attained. Worst case scenario the loyalists invested the resources to intercept us on the way south but that sounded unlikely in the extreme as the cost would be more than any benefit they might gain from it.

Handing the scroll to be sealed with some wax and my signet ring a moment earlier to the maester I stand up and stretch my body with a sigh of content. For now I had done my duty and I could rest a night before returning to Rytherstone with my men and the peasants I had picked up on the way...and carefully not mentioned in my letter. In time what I had done would reach Lord Glover and Lords Branch and Woods but by that point a lot of time would have passed. Better to ask for forgiveness than for approval and all that. If worst came to worst I could always fall back on my weregild idea and state that the place offered by raven message had not been sufficient to report this relatively minor detail. I could bullshit with the best of them if required, sue me.

Following a servant waiting for me at the door I am led to one of the many guest rooms where I quickly partake in the bread and salt before being left to my own devices. Knowing that Wallace would have everything in hand with my people, I fell into the bed with a grunt and was out like a light a moment later. While being fit as required of a lord, I was still a youth not yet twenty and not used to the rigors of a long campaign. Having a place to really rest for the first time in a long while really made itself known in this moment.

I rose well rested the next morning, a hearty breakfast already waiting for me as I entered the great hall. The room had been filled the last time I had visited it, now it was all but empty. Sitting down I started to shovel down the food with the manners of a starving wolf, the taste all but overwhelming my senses after long weeks of very much basic cuisine. The maester approached me not long after I had cleaned my plate, patiently waiting for me to acknowledge his presence.

"Yes?"

"Milord, could I trouble you for a moment of your time?"

I nod agreeable and sip at the watered ale I had been enjoying with the breakfast, waiting for him to speak.

"You will be glad to hear that Lord Boyle will survive his wounds and make a full recovery.", he started and I smiled at the news, knowing that my friend would be alright.

"But he will never fight again, obviously.", I throw in before he can continue and he nods with a scowl, not liking the interruption.

"Obviously.", he agrees deadpan before continuing, "No infection has set in the wound but even rigged with a prosthetic of some sort his fighting days are over. Well, he would still be able to fight if horsed, but once out of the saddle he would be an easy target. I cannot recommend it and already got his promise to go home instead of continuing to fight in the war."

"I thought as much.", I confirm and wait for him to continue, knowing that he would want more than to give a simple status update on the other lord.

"This brings me to another matter. You brought a lot of smallfolk with you, what do you intend to do with them?", he inquires.

I frown, having hoped that the matter would simply have been ignored by the man as I would be `out of his hair`, so to speak, before the day was out. It seemed it was not to be.

"They will be coming with me to Rytherstone, good maester. None had anywhere to go after the raids and they would have starved come winter, the womenfolk and children most of all. That reminds me, nearly 200 smallfolk chose to stay at the point the wildlings were set to meet up and establish a new village. They call it Wolf's Crossing and should be well established by now. It being where it is I do not know if they should pay homage to Lord Branch or Lord Woods."

The maester looks first annoyed, then surprised and finally deeply annoyed again. Ha, take that you nosey cunt, I mentally crackle. Distracting him from something I really shouldn't be doing by throwing an even greater problem at him had been a spur of the moment thing but it felt right at the moment. Clearing up which lord the new village and the tax rewards coming with it belonged to would hopefully cause enough headaches for all involved parties that my little "grand theft peasant" would be overlooked in the ensuing political fighting. Well, I could hope, yes?

Having completely lost his interest with the latest bit of information I threw at him the maester takes his leave, grumbling under his breath all the while. Smiling to myself I leave the hall a little later, whistling happily as I make for the camp my retainers and the smallfolk had set up outside the wooden walls of Deepwood Motte. On the way there I stop at the shop of a woodworker and fletcher I had visited during my last stay but not bought anything. This time I changed that as I bought a sturdy bow made of weirwood for the princely sum of two golden dragons. Considering what a normal bow of elm or another common wood would have cost leaves me to wince as I fork the money over. Still, I considered it well invested as a well made weapon could save my life at some point and what use would money for me dead. Better spend it now.

Collecting Wallace and some smallfolk I spent a few hours buying what I could at the market district of the fortress, burning through the looted money I had earned putting the Thenn into the ground in a hurry. Horses, steel weapons, armour, ropes, grain, seeds, oil and a lot more found its way into my possession as I all but emptied the merchants of their stock. Finishing off the buying spree that would surely become legendary in a hurry I purchased half a dozen wagons and the oxens towing them to store all that I had bought.

Why I had all but broke the bank – or at least the travelling funds – one might ask? Well, I point back at my reason for buying my precious weirwood bow. Money would be no use to me dead, so why not invest it in the future while I could? More so as I was pretty affluent by now with more funds – if I needed them – waiting for me at Rytherstone, where we would be heading next.

I had also Shale properly fitted into his inherited armour while I was on my shopping trip. This would come in handy sooner rather than later, I suspected. My men also stocked up on arrows as needed, the campaign having been hard on the ordnance as it was.

As the sun stood at its zenith we started to move again, the long line of people heading down the road to Rytherstone. I had made my goodbyes with Bryle not much earlier, leaving him in the care of Deepwoods scowling maester and Brigitte, who had chosen to stay at his side as well. Brynden and I would stay in contact, having fought and bled together. I looked forward to what my friendship with him might lead to in the future.

For now though I would have to concentrate on more immediate concerns, like getting a lot of smallfolk from point A to point B without anything happening to my `flock`. Herding cats, I tell you…

Where it took us a week to move from Rytherstone to Deepwood Motte half a year ago it took three times as long this time around. Having horses turned out to be of little use all around as we simply didn't have enough of the beasts to mount everyone and as long as a single person remained that had to walk we were one and all shackled to the speed of this lone person. I could of course have gone ahead but why should I have done so? The caravan needed the protection my men offered and going ahead on my lonesome or with a small guard sounded not all that good if one knew that ambushes and bandits did actually happen. No, better to stay with the group and enjoy safety in numbers as only fairly stupid of desperate brigands would attack a group of over a hundred souls with nearly as many armed men moving along.

Thankfully the journey passed without incident and I was greatly relieved to see my castle on the horizon as we moved out of the wolfswood and onto the open plain most of my holdings were concentrated. Stopping on the hill we had left the woods on I gazed upon my lands and took everything in. It had been more than half a year since I had been here last and a lot had changed in the meantime. From my position I could see that the palisade surrounding the settlement of Rytherport had been finished in my absence with two more palisades connecting the town wall to the two towers protecting the post currently being constructed. The two great towers to the left and right of the harbor had also been finished even though I did not yet see the scorpions that would be placed on top once the ordered weapons arrived. I considered the palisades connecting the towers and the town a sensible addition, obviously my wife had been busy. It protected the harbor while simultaneously separating it from the town by the settlement's initial fortification. Good sense all around.

I could also spot yet another dock being constructed and four ships anchored to the docks already finished. Next to my own ship – which was thankfully present – I spotted one hailing from the Westerlands and another one flying the flag of the Reach. The rebellion did not seem to stop the merchants from trading up and down the coast it seemed, something I noticed with no little amusement. The last ship was also flying my flag, something that caused a content smile to appear on my face. It seems my wife had really come through on a lot of things. Another thing I noticed was the increased number of houses within Rytherports fortification and the also larger number of fields and orchards outside the walls. To me it looked like my plans for expansion and the incentives I had offered far and wide for emigration were working out well enough.

My roving eyes finally settle on Rytherstone, the – more or less – ancestral seat of house Ryther. Even from a distance I could spot the stonemasons and other workers scurrying along the stonework and battlements, repairing or outright rebuilding what had been destroyed by time and enemy action. Progress had been made but I suspected that it would be another three or four years of hard work at the very least before I could consider the fortress to be restored. I could hardly wait, knowing that it simply needed to be finished before Balon Greyjoy took his next drink of the crazy cup and declared himself king of Salt and Iron. Yet another fight I wasn't looking forward to but also one that I – being located on the coast on the wrong side of the continent – was unlikely to avoid. Well, I still had a few years if the timeline stayed on course...and would fortify the fuck out of my holdings in the meantime. Let him come, I could always use extra ships.

Still gazing at my castle I spot three dozen riders leaving the fortress and heading straight for us at a brisk pace. Even at the distance I recognized my master at arms and smiled even wider, knowing that it was just good to be home. Harren stopped in front of me not half an hour later, bowing slightly with a scowl even though he pretty obviously was glad to see me. "Milord, welcome home. Couldn't you have sent a word? Hundreds of people appearing out the woods had the men running around like headless chicken!"

"You will have to beat that out of them, then.", I smirk and gaze at the riders behind him, all wearing my colour, "Discipline should not be thrown overboard at the first surprise, after all."

"So it is.", he grunts while eyeing his riders, most of whom looked pained at the impending brutal training heading in their direction. Turning back he continues, "To be fair, your Lady suspected your arrival for the last week and warned me to look out for you. So it really isn't as surprising as it made it out to be."

"Oh?", I raise an eyebrow, "What gave me away?"

"A letter from lord Stark, Milord.", he replied at once and handed me a sealed scroll. "It is addressed to you and the Lady concluded that if it was sent to Rytherstone you would surely appear in the not so far future as well."

"Well reasoned.", I mumble as I take the letter and break the seal while my stomach does backflips. What the fuck had I done to get a message from the Lord Paramount himself? Taking a fortifying breath I unroll the scroll and read it once, then twice and finally a third time.

Lord Ryther,

Talbart reported your deeds. Well done. You are commanded to seek out the ironborn that cooperate with the wildlings and to destroy them. Cooperation between the two parties cannot be permitted and the possibility alone endangers the north. Capture if you can, kill if you must but put an end to it. After it has been done you are tasked to protect the western coast to the best of your ability. While the fight in the south needs good men such as yourself the men also need to know that there will be a home to return to. This is your task. Talbart assures me you will be able to handle it and I trust his judgement.

Do not disappoint us.

Eddard Stark

Lord Paramount of the North

"Well shit", I mumble, not knowing if laughing or crying would be the right reaction.

On the positive side I would avoid the rebellion in its entirely now and did not even have to scramble for an excuse while doing so. What better one could there be but a direct command to stay the hell at home, after all?

One the other side I would have to first find and secondly put down an unknown number of ironborn with the forces I had at hand. Additionally it would have to be done in a hurry as the only real reference point I had was the location and time they were set to meet the Thenn that we had destroyed roughly two month past. I would either have to bust my ass riding or throwing everything I had onto my ships in a hurry before making north to get there in time. After hopefully surviving that – as a cherry on top – I would have to hold down the fort against yet more ironborn, wildlings or whatever else that decided to take a stab at the western border of the north...which was so goddamn big that I was all but guaranteed to always arrive too late to do a damn thing.

I roll up the scroll again and sigh, a headache starting to make itself known as I puzzled over the task I had been handed.

Crying it was...