Ambush #39

Gale regarded the stranger with a puzzled expression. "Just let me ask you one thing for a change," he began, a hint of weariness in his voice. "What exactly do you want from us?"

The stranger tilted his head and, in a somewhat robotic fashion, repeated his earlier words, "To turn back and return from whence you came..." His voice and gestures mirrored the previous statement, as if he had rehearsed them many times.

Gale's initial aggression dissipated as he let out an exasperated sigh. "Oh, for the love of... another weirdo. Just what I needed," he muttered, dismissing his iceblade, much to the confusion of his companions. He lowered himself to the ground and sat down, visibly frustrated. "Please, just go away and find someone else to bother, will you?"

The stranger's contemplative gaze met Gale's, his expression betraying confusion as he weighed his options. He sidestepped yet another attempted attack from Tormund, demonstrating remarkable agility despite his eerie demeanor.

Amid the scuffles and dodging, a glimmer of realization seemed to break through the stranger's facade. He managed to evade yet another of Tormund's attacks, gracefully tripping the burly warrior once more.

He grinned, retrieving a single golden coin from his cloak, which he tossed in Gale's direction. The young man caught the coin, scrutinizing it with a furrowed brow.

It was unquestionably crafted from solid gold, yet its design bore no resemblance to any currency Gale had ever encountered. Neither had it the markings he had read about in his extensive studies.

A hint of satisfaction danced in the stranger's eyes as he watched Gale's keen interest. "No one would venture this far without being driven by desperation. I've heard it said that gold could resolve all manner of difficulties, so—" the stranger began, but Gale abruptly interrupted him by flinging the coin back.

The stranger deftly caught the coin, his grin promptly vanishing.

"Unfortunately, gold can't solve my problems," Gale looked at the stranger with a bitter chuckle. "I don't know who you are or why you're so insistent on us 'turning back and returning from whence we came,' but I won't leave until I find and slay a white walker," he declared mockingly.

The stranger's decayed countenance exhibited further confusion, and yet he swiftly composed himself. "Well, if that's the case, I'd be willing to guide you to a white walker... though your chances of survival are slim at best," he stated, nodding matter-of-factly.

At those words, Gale arched an eyebrow, his lips curling into an amused smile. "You won't even make an attempt to dissuade us?" he inquired, letting out a light chuckle. "In other words, you don't want us to turn back to save our lives but rather to keep us away from something you're trying to protect," he added, regarding the stranger with a shrewd look.

The stranger began to form a response, but found himself unable to articulate a refutation. Instead, he acknowledged, "It's been quite some time since I've had a meaningful conversation with a human. I nearly forgot the extent of your observant and cunning nature," he admitted, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

Internally, Gale rolled his eyes at the sudden shift in the stranger's stance. He wasn't inclined to jump to conclusions based solely on a few exchanged words, but the initial shift in the stranger's demeanor did strike him as suspicious.

Gale decided to probe his intentions, and the stranger promptly caved, confirming Gale's suspicions. It was clear that this peculiar undead being was either incredibly gullible or profoundly disconnected from human behavior and reasoning due to the passage of time if it even had such things.

"Whatever it is that you're guarding, I'm not interested in it," Gale declared firmly. "As long as you can guide us to an isolated white walker, we'll depart and never return once we kill it," he concluded.

The stranger acknowledged Gale's terms with a simple nod, displaying no signs of suspicion or doubt. Gale found this utter lack of skepticism exasperating, but for the moment, he was content that the stranger appeared willing to assist.

He was never one to look a horse gift horse in the mouth, even if it was rotten and reeking of death.

...

As they sat around the crackling bonfire in the ruins of Moat Cailin, Ser Barristan noticed Tyrion's curious gaze wandering over the desolate landscape, the bogs, and the greenery in the distance.

"What's on your mind, my lord?" he asked, intrigued by Tyrion's apparent interest.

Tyrion looked back at Ser Barristan with a hint of fascination in his eyes. "I was hoping to catch a glimpse of the Crannogmen... They're known to be reclusive, but I thought we might at least encounter one of them," he explained, his voice tinged with curiosity.

Ser Barristan chuckled at Tyrion's expectations. "The Crannogmen are indeed a reclusive people, but aside from their habits and traditions, they are no different from you and me," he reassured, his tone dismissive of any exaggerated tales.

Tyrion gave him an amused yet slightly affronted look. "I do appreciate your efforts not to insult my intelligence. I'm fully aware they are regular people. It's their habits and traditions that I'm--" he said, pausing as the sudden blaring of alarm bells disrupted the tranquility of their surroundings.

Both men jumped to their feet, drawing their weapons as they were greeted by the blood-curdling battle cries of charging foes. The urgency of the situation was evident.

"Seek cover quickly! We're under attack!" Ser Barristan barked out orders, his sword gleaming in the firelight as he scanned the darkness, trying to identify the source of the threat.

One of the archers positioned atop a tower nearby rapidly nocked an arrow, lit it with the torch near him, and let it fly into the night. It arched and landed near the intruders, marking their position with an ominous burst of flames, effectively alerting everyone to the direction from which they were being attacked.

Ser Barristan Selmy's eyes widened as he took in the sight of the numerous intruders that had descended upon them – a formidable force of over thirty attackers. His veteran instincts kicked into high gear, and he swiftly drew his sword, wasting no time in issuing commands to his men.

"Men, form up around me! Archers, hold your positions in the towers! Light up the area!" he commanded with authority.

The dozen knights swiftly gathered around him, forming a defensive line, while the six archers stationed in the towers responded promptly, their flaming arrows casting an eerie glow over the darkened landscape.

In the midst of this chaotic scene, Tyrion Lannister, initially frozen in shock, snapped into action. He scrambled for cover, his eyes scanning for any available weapon.

The dimiunitive nobleman spotted a discarded hand axe on the ground, and with nimble fingers, he snatched it up on the way.

The intruders continued their advance, metal-clad and well-prepared, their shields raised to protect against the archers' arrows. A dark shadow fell over Ser Barristan Selmy's face, for these were not mere bandits but trained soldiers. However, he did not let this revelation dampen his resolve.

"We're facing trained soldiers, but do not despair! You are the finest knights and soldiers in King's Landing, handpicked by me personally!" Ser Barristan declared with unwavering confidence. "Hold the line, and we will see the light of day once more!" He stood firm in the center of his men, his very presence injecting a sense of courage into the surrounding soldiers.

His warriors remained resolute, their unwavering postures and stoic expressions revealing their unwavering faith. After all, Ser Barristan the Bold was with them, and that was all the assurance they needed.

The intruders closed the distance rapidly, their weapons raised for combat. Despite the odds stacked against them, Ser Barristan and his loyal companions fought valiantly. In the thick of the skirmish, it was Ser Barristan who claimed the first life among the intruders, his seasoned skills proving unmatched.

With a single clash of swords, his opponent fell.

This initial victory emboldened the knights surrounding Ser Barristan. The sight of their revered commander in the heart of the battle sent shockwaves through the opposition, instilling fear in their hearts.

One by one, the second and third intruders met their end, their assault thwarted by the fierce defenders.

As the formation of the attackers grew increasingly disorganized, the skilled archers in the towers unleashed their deadly rain of arrows, taking a toll on the assailants. Victory seemed tantalizingly within reach for Ser Barristan and his stalwart company.

Their opponents would all fall sooner or later. 

However, just when it appeared that triumph was imminent, fate intervened. Tyrion, alert and observant, noticed another group of armed men rapidly approaching the ruins from a different direction, their presence signaling that this battle was far from over.

A sense of urgency swept over him as he realized that the situation had taken a perilous turn.

...

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