Bonus Chapter sponsored by:
[Athena]
The sun rose, and a new day came with it.
Back at camp, a great pot of vegetable soup simmered thick with smoked meat, the smell of it carrying far enough to set the five sellswords and the farmers alike drooling where they sat.
An employer generous enough to put meat in every meal and ale in every cup besides was the kind of luck none of them had ever counted on.
Erwin sat right among them as he always did, smiling, trading easy talk, none of the coldness or the airs most lords carried around men beneath their station.
It won him something close to real affection from the lot of them.
Laughter passed easily around the fire, talk ran loose and comfortable, and the whole camp had the feel of men who trusted the man paying them.
Erwin used the time well enough, picking up what he could about the customs of this world from the men around him, and made no move to rush anyone back onto the road.
Two miles off, on a hill overlooking the road, a sellsword climbed down out of a tall tree and reported what he’d seen to Willem.
“They’re not moving yet.
Still eating, looks like.”
That was exactly why Erwin had chosen open ground to camp on in the first place, so the men trailing behind could watch from a distance and close the gap fast if any trouble found him first.
Willem nodded at the report and said nothing more.
One of Griff’s men griped under his breath.
“Must be nice, following a proper lord.
Hot meat in your belly every night.
Not like us, gnawing cold bread and afraid to even light a fire proper, in case someone spots the smoke.”
Willem cut him a flat look.
“Weren’t you living exactly like that before you signed on with us?
Think on the silver in your pocket instead, and what’s waiting for you once the job’s done.
Enough to keep you happy in a Flea Bottom brothel for longer than you’ll admit to.”
Before setting out, Erwin had already paid every sellsword and farmer a day’s wage up front, just as promised.
It had done wonders for morale.
The man shut his mouth at that and said nothing further.
Willem sent the lookout back up his tree to keep watching, and to listen close for the birdcall that would tell them Erwin’s group was on the move again, so they could follow close behind once it came.
Griff took two of his men off to relieve themselves somewhere out of earshot.
“Fuck, that damned Willem gets more full of himself by the day.
All because he’s crawled up some noble boy’s arse,” one of them muttered, spitting out his frustration.
The other jumped in.
“If you ask me, our boss ought to be running this whole company.
What’s Willem got that we don’t?
Nothing but hot air and a talent for kissing arse.
That lordling’s blind as a bat, choosing him over you.”
Griff felt much the same, though he kept it steadier.
“Leave it be.
For the silver, we let him strut a while longer.
Once this job’s finished, we’ll find the moment to remind him where he stands.”
…
Noon came fast.
Erwin dragged his feet the whole morning before finally giving the order to strike camp and move on.
A few slow hours of travel followed, and well before the sun had set, he had them pick another open stretch of ground and stop again.
The trailing sellswords weren’t pleased with the pace of it.
Willem reminded them, though, that every hour their employer wasted was another hour added to their pay, since they were paid by the day and not the mile.
That settled most of the grumbling fast enough.
What did it matter how slow the man moved, so long as the silver kept adding up?
Might as well call it a holiday.
Erwin’s dawdling was, of course, all in service of giving the bandits time enough to hear the news and come collect.
What he didn’t know was that word had already reached them, and had for some time.
Which left the gang in a rough spot, sitting in ambush along his expected route a full day with nothing to show for it but empty road.
By afternoon, the bandit leader couldn’t stand the waiting any longer and sent a rider out to check.
The man found Erwin’s whole company camped out in the open, eating their fill without a care.
The scout didn’t dare linger.
He rode on down the Kingsroad the way Erwin’s column had come, and once well out of sight, cut back through the trees to make his way home.
By full dark he’d reached the ambush site and reported everything he’d seen.
The bandit leader cursed Erwin’s name more than once at the news, then told the men to settle in where they were.
By his count, Erwin’s company should reach them the next day at the latest.
Except the next day, Erwin dragged his feet worse than before, not moving an inch even past noon, claiming the sun sat too high and hot for his liking.
Only once the afternoon heat had eased did the column start moving again, and even then, after three or four miles at most, he had them make camp yet again beside a stream.
Another day wasted for nothing.
The bandits cursed him up and down for it.
Some of them started to wonder whether this fat lamb actually meant to reach King’s Landing at all, or whether he’d just come out here to take in the scenery.
The whole gang had turned out for this, feeding mosquitoes for two full days running now.
Someone needed to go check on the den, in case anything or anyone had wandered in while every man of them sat out here waiting.
So the leader sent a few men back to check on things while the rest held their positions, hoping this fat lamb would finally show himself the next day.
Erwin, for his part, had his own doubts by now.
He’d given the bandits more than enough time.
Why hadn’t a single one shown his face to rob him yet?
Had the bandit he’d questioned lied to him?
Maybe there wasn’t a gang thirty strong lurking anywhere close by.
Maybe there’d never been an informant at that inn to begin with.
Or had his own half-truth, half-lie of a setup worked too well, and the bandits genuinely believed the crates held nothing but rock and mud?
Had no one in his own company thought twice about that little errand out into the trees either?
Erwin turned the question over more than once.
Had he simply overcomplicated the whole thing for nothing?
Well, if that was how it stood, there was nothing for it but to push on to King’s Landing and find some other way to keep leveling once he got there.
His real goal was still the tourney, two months off now, and catching the King’s eye there would take a strong enough showing on his part regardless.
The night passed quickly enough.
Certain by now that the bandits weren’t coming, Erwin had the camp fed and packed up early the next morning, and the whole column picked up its pace toward King’s Landing at last.
By noon, the bandits, two full days into their wait, finally saw a column of wagons crawling toward them from a distance.
“Fuck.
Finally.”
The leader drew his sword and kicked at the men sprawled around him.
“Up, the lot of you!
The lamb’s here!”
Two days of waiting had left them groggy and sour, but they scrambled up off the cold ground quick enough, rubbing sleep from their eyes, and dropped into position, watching the slow column wind its way up the road below the hill.
The sight of Erwin riding high on his white, armored courser, his own armor throwing back the sun in every direction, only sharpened their excitement.
Around him, every eye could see, rode nothing but plain farmers.
Not a fighting man among them, by the look of it.
A fat lamb, right enough.
“Bows up!” the leader raised his hand.
“Loose!”
At the word, a handful of bandits with bows let fly a ragged volley of crooked arrows.