A new chapter is up.
Come in, get comfortable, and let’s see what kind of trouble waits this time ❤️
✦
“Old Baine is in trouble now.”
“Embezzlement?
Smiling Will?
I remember him valuing honor more than his own life.”
“What do you know?
Embezzlement is only the excuse.
He was caught in House Crane’s internal fight.”
“Backed the wrong man?”
“No.
Backed the right one.
He just did not realize he mattered less to that man than he thought.”
“What does that mean?”
“Fool.
He was traded away like a piece on a board.”
Among the people who had come out of the tavern to watch, there were plenty of merchants who traveled between towns.
Their information was far better than that of ordinary villagers, and their low-voiced talk revealed the recent shift in power at Red Lake.
Alden’s altered hearing picked up their conversation with ease.
From it, he understood how the situation had developed and judged what he should do next.
In truth, he had already intended to go all out even before Old Baine told him to.
He needed Ser Cley Crane to make his name known among the nobles of Red Lake.
With that settled, Alden nodded to Baine to show he understood.
Without sparing Ser Cley another look, he walked to the open ground before the tavern and said calmly, “Come on.”
His manner surprised everyone around him.
They had expected anger, grievance, fear, or worry.
After all, Alden was an innocent bystander dragged into House Crane’s internal struggle, targeted without cause and forced into a terribly unfair fight.
By any measure, he should have shown some strong emotion.
Instead, he was unnaturally calm.
Facing a fully armed opponent, he looked as if he were facing an ordinary man, not taking him seriously at all.
That calm made the onlookers think again of the rumors surrounding him.
The soldier Ser Cley had chosen sobered as well.
Alden’s calm expression weighed on him, sharp and oppressive, like standing before something dangerous.
Despite himself, he remembered the story that Alden had swallowed the spirit of the mountain bear.
Like Alden, though, the soldier had no way out.
When impatience flickered across Ser Cley’s face, the man drew a deep breath, tightened his grip on his sword, and rushed forward without warning.
Following habit, he cut diagonally toward Alden’s neck and shoulder.
Alden watched the blade come and did not panic.
He took one step forward as if strolling, tilted his body, and let the sword pass by.
Then he drove in hard and slammed into the soldier.
The man hit the ground with no chance to resist.
Before he could react, a foot came down toward his neck.
Pain flashed once, and he died before he could cry out.
Silence fell.
No one quite understood what had happened.
They had seen Alden take two steps, the soldier fall, and then Alden step on the man’s neck, ending the fight.
Ser Cley’s composure cracked when he saw his man killed.
His face darkened.
He gestured to another soldier, ordering him to take the first man’s place and continue.
The second soldier looked miserable.
He knew his own ability was close to his companion’s.
If the first had been dealt with so easily, he had no hope of winning.
But he could not run.
He could only force himself forward.
The result was the same.
Alden killed him just as easily, as casually as breaking a dry twig by the roadside.
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
Alden’s strength seemed almost absurd.
Some caravan sellswords present could likely defeat soldiers of that level, but none could do it so effortlessly.
More frightening was Alden’s expression after killing two men.
He remained calm, as if the lives he had taken carried no weight at all.
“The bear’s spirit!
It is the bear’s spirit!”
Many villagers stood in the crowd.
They had known Alden’s old character and habits, and everything he displayed now was far removed from the boy in their memories.
That only made them believe the strange rumors more deeply.
Alden ignored the stares and whispers.
He bent, picked up the two dead soldiers’ swords, and gave them a few casual swings to feel their weight.
Then he looked at the nobleman before him.
“Send the rest together.”
Ser Cley’s face turned ugly.
He felt humiliated.
After seeing Alden’s strength, he had considered recruiting him.
Now he only wanted to remove him and erase the shame.
“All of you, together!” he shouted at the remaining four soldiers.
Alden had been the one to suggest it, yet Ser Cley’s order still drew contempt from the crowd.
Jeers rose from hidden places and not so hidden ones, making Cley’s embarrassment sharper and his hatred of Alden stronger.
The four soldiers did not rush forward at once.
They exchanged glances, unstrapped the round wooden shields from their backs, and formed the most common shield-wall arrangement before advancing.
Seeing four soldiers use a battle formation against one unarmored man made the onlookers even more disdainful.
The half-hidden jeers burst into the open, filling the ground with boos and curses.
Even villagers who disliked Alden began to cry foul on his behalf.
Alden showed no panic at the sight of the formation.
He remained as calm as before.
This time, however, he did not wait to counter.
He attacked first, rushing toward the gap between the two shields in the center as if he meant to smash through the line by force.
That was a common method knights used against a defensive formation, but it relied on a condition Alden did not have.
A knight wore heavy armor, which added weight to the charge and protected him from surrounding blows even if the impact failed.
Alden wore only a thin short tunic.
His charge looked like suicide.
The two soldiers facing him thought the same.
They braced their arms behind their shields, trying to take the impact.
Even if they failed to stop him, they meant to slow him enough for the men on either side to cut him down.
The other two seemed to understand their companions’ intention.
They raised their swords and prepared to strike at the space just ahead of the shields.
Then something happened that stunned everyone.
Just as Alden reached the four men and was about to crash into the shield wall, his forward momentum vanished in a way that should not have been possible.
Like an expert dancer moving through a court measure, he pivoted, turned, and flowed around the front of the shield wall.
Before the soldiers could react, he had circled behind them.
As his body spun, the twin swords in his hands did not wait idle.
They followed the rotation and cut precisely at the backs of four necks.
The turning force of his body, joined with the power in his arms, left those necks no chance to withstand the blows.
Three heads were severed cleanly and flung away by the remaining force in the blades.
The fourth stayed attached only by a strip of flesh, hanging from the wound.
Blood sprayed from the opened necks like fountains, spattering the ground and staining Alden’s clothes red.
The jeers aimed at Ser Cley and his men vanished at once.
The clearing fell into absolute silence.
Everyone stared at Alden, stunned, while the only sound was the wet patter of blood pouring onto the ground.
“Bear-Hunter!”
“Bear-Hunter!”
No one knew who shouted his title first.
The silence shattered, and cheers rose in a dozen accents.
Even the people of White Village shouted in excitement, as if they themselves had just fought the battle.
The fight had been terribly brief, only a few heartbeats, but to those watching, it was the most brilliant display of combat they had ever seen.
None of them could remember seeing anyone kill four opponents so quickly or with such terrible grace.
“Do not come near me!”
Ser Cley had forgotten all noble bearing.
The moment blood-soaked Alden looked at him, he stumbled backward in panic.
Without another word, he fumbled loose the reins tied at the hitching post, mounted his horse, and pushed through the crowd.
A moment later, he vanished down the road beyond the village.
The onlookers despised him for abandoning his men’s bodies, but no one said much.
However contemptible he was, he remained a member of House Crane and a knight besides.
However faded House Crane had become, it still ruled Red Lake.
Smallfolk could not afford to provoke such people.
A few mocking words were the limit of their courage.
“Enough.
Clear off, all of you!” Old Baine showed no joy at Alden’s display.
His face remained grave.
After barking at the crowd, he turned to the tavern hands.
“Fetch Squint and have him deal with the bodies.
Strip the weapons and leather armor first and keep them safe.
House Crane will likely send men to collect them.”
Then he signaled for Alden to hand the swords to one of the tavern workers and led him toward the rear yard.
Even after Alden left and Baine told the crowd to scatter, many of the spectators remained caught in their excitement.
A few bold caravan sellswords even approached the corpses to examine the wounds, then tried to imitate Alden’s swordwork and see whether they could manage the movement.
Most of the crowd, however, began discussing whether House Crane would blame Alden for what had happened, or even send men to seize and execute him.
While they argued over Alden’s future trouble, Old Baine was speaking with him about the same matter in the tavern yard.
“How did you do that?” Baine asked as soon as they were alone.
Alden looked confused.
“Do what?”
Baine attempted the movement Alden had used to execute the four soldiers.
When Alden performed it, the motion had looked like a dance.
When Baine did it, he looked like a wobbling barrel, almost comical.
Alden wanted to laugh, but held it back.
“You told me to use everything I had.”
“Aye, I did.” Baine nodded, then gave a bitter smile.
“I just never imagined everything you had would be that strong or that ruthless.
House Crane’s guards may not rank highly among the lordly household troops of the Reach, but they are still Red Lake’s regular soldiers.
You cut down six of them in moments.
It seems I underestimated you.
If I had known your true strength, I would not have gone to Will at all.
I would have gone straight to Ser Vortimer, and matters would not have reached this point.”
“Old Baine, what exactly happened in Red Lake?
Why did a noble suddenly come here to make trouble for me?”
Baine sighed, guilt in his voice.
“You were dragged in because of me.
I did not expect House Crane’s infighting to flare up again, and certainly not just after I went to Will.”
Then he told Alden what he knew.
House Crane had split into two factions long ago over which power it should follow.
One side believed that since House Tyrell held Highgarden, ruled as Lords Paramount of the Mander, and served as Wardens of the South, House Crane should naturally stand with the Tyrells.
The other side argued that the Tyrells were distant from House Crane.
Their ancestors had no record of marriage ties, and supporting the Tyrells brought little benefit.
House Florent of Brightwater Keep, by contrast, had close ties to House Crane.
The families had intermarried several times, mingling blood.
They also had many economic and political dealings, and House Florent’s strength was not so far below House Tyrell’s.
Standing with the Florents, that faction argued, would serve House Crane better.
The split had not yet grown out of hand when the Florents and Tyrells suddenly reconciled, cutting the quarrel short.
But the division inside House Crane had not disappeared.
It had only sharpened over time, until it finally burst open recently.
The result was both expected and surprising.
The Crane members who supported House Tyrell had been utterly defeated.
The family’s power now rested entirely with the Florent-aligned faction, and Ser Cley belonged to that side.
I hope this chapter pulled you a little deeper into the story.
Stay close, because things are only getting more interesting.