A new chapter is up.
Come in, get comfortable, and let’s see what kind of trouble waits this time ❤️
✦
After hearing the whole story, Alden was still puzzled.
“Why did the people on House Tyrell’s side lose so easily?
You said the two factions had been deadlocked for decades.
By rights, their strength should have been close.”
“Robert’s Rebellion,” Old Baine said with a sigh.
“That was the whole of it.
House Tyrell supported the dragon kings and sent men to war.
House Crane sent men as well, and all the Cranes who rode out were Tyrell men.
Many of them died at the Battle of Ashford.
Only Ser Vortimer Crane and a few others survived.
After the war, they feared the other side of the family would move against them, so they stayed at Highgarden instead of returning to Red Lake.”
“And Smiling Will?” Alden asked.
“What was his part in this?”
“A fool’s part.” Anger roughened Baine’s voice.
“House Crane’s quarrel had nothing to do with him.
All he had to do was serve as captain of the guard.
But someone whispered in his ear, and the fool seized Lady Lyanna and young Lady Menedys to prove himself to that lot.
The Cranes may have been tearing at one another, but they were fighting over power, not butchering blood kin.
What Will did crossed a line.
No wonder they took him.”
Alden’s concern shifted.
“Were you dragged down because of him?”
“Do not worry about me.” Baine gave him a faint, steadying look.
“To them, I am no one worth naming.
If they truly thought I was a threat, they would not have sent an arrogant whelp like Cley here.”
“It is different now,” Alden said, not quite hiding his worry.
“I killed six guardsmen from Red Lake.
They may…”
“No.
That may turn out to be a good thing.” Baine smiled instead.
“For House Crane as it stands now, a swordsman like you is worth far more than six common guards.”
“Why?”
“Red Lake agreed not long ago to send men with House Rowan and House Oakheart against the outlaws in Red Lake Forest,” Baine explained.
“But House Crane lost too many men during Robert’s Rebellion.
At most, they can gather a little over two hundred.
And before those men took up weapons, most of them were farmers.
New blood, with no real fighting in them.
They need capable men.
That was why I told you to show everything you had.
I simply did not expect everything you had to be that strong.
Still, all the better.
By now, someone should already have carried word of you to Ser Joel Flowers.”
“Joel Flowers?” Alden searched his memory.
“I think I heard the name in the tavern.
Cold Joel?”
“Aye.
Him.” Baine nodded.
“Ser Joel Flowers is the bastard son of Ser Belan Crane.
Among the Cranes who support House Florent of Brightwater Keep, he is one of the few men who can actually command troops.
Years ago, he took part in a tourney at King’s Landing.
He lost to Ser Barristan Selmy, but Barristan the Bold admired his swordwork enough to put his name forward for the Mad King’s Kingsguard.
Joel refused.
Inside House Crane, he is counted as a master of the sword, Vortimer’s equal, and he values men with real skill.
He commands Crane’s two hundred men in this campaign.
Now that you have shown what you can do, he will certainly send someone to recruit you.”
“He had people in the crowd?”
“Aye.” Baine did not deny it.
“Your names as Bear-Hunter and Twin-Sword Master must have reached his ears, so he sent men to see whether the tales were true.
This worked better.”
“Is Joel not afraid of offending that side of House Crane?”
“He is a well-known neutral within the family,” Baine said, laying out the matter carefully.
“He serves the lord of Red Lake.
Which man becomes lord matters less to him.
Because of that, whoever holds Red Lake knows Joel will not betray him and tries to keep good relations with him.
No one offends him lightly.
And this time, House Crane needs him to lead those two hundred green men against the outlaws.
They will not anger him over a small matter.”
He paused, then sighed.
“In truth, Joel was why I went to Will in the first place.
I guessed from the beginning that Joel would lead the campaign, but I had no dealings with him and no tie I could use.
Will had become captain of the guard on Joel’s recommendation, so there was a connection there.
I thought asking him to recommend one man would be simple enough.
Seems all that work was wasted.”
“What should I do now?” Alden asked.
“Nothing,” Baine said.
“Stay here for the next few days.
Ser Joel should send for you.”
Alden nodded, accepting the advice.
Then another thought occurred to him.
“Old Baine, are my swords ready?”
“They are.
I meant to give them to you as soon as you came, but everything happened too quickly and it slipped my mind.
A good thing your bare hands are as dangerous as your swordwork.”
Baine motioned for him to follow.
They went through the tavern and into the yard behind it.
The old man entered a smaller room alone and returned a short while later with two long blades in his hands.
He offered them to Alden.
“Hand-and-a-half swords, made as you asked.
I had the blades forged broader and thicker.
They look more like lengthened broadswords now, which suits the bastard sword name well enough.”
Alden took the two wide-bladed swords, drew them at once, and tested them with a turn of wrist, forearm, and shoulder.
They were heavier than he had expected, but not enough to hinder him.
He checked their edges and the resilience of the steel.
They were much better than the longswords used by Red Lake’s guards, yet still far below the weapons held in Peacekeeper’s combat memories.
In terms of quality, they could only be called slightly above average.
Then again, the pair had cost only five gold dragons.
For that price, they were more than worth it.
Baine had almost certainly spent favors as well as coin.
For the next two days, Alden remained in the yard behind Baine’s tavern and familiarized himself with the new weapons.
Peacekeeper’s twin-blade experience suited one long weapon and one short blade better, but that was in a game.
In a real battle, walking onto a field with a dagger in one hand was little better than seeking death.
He needed to adjust Peacekeeper’s style and fold it into the fighting experience of his own body.
He did not lack partners.
The caravan sellswords who passed through the tavern were happy to help him train, because during every bout Alden pointed out flaws they had shown in combat, taught them small methods of working together, and even shared bits of swordcraft most common men could only learn from nobles.
Without meaning to, he won more respect from those sellswords.
And when their caravans left White Village, the tales left with them, spreading Alden’s name a little farther through the Reach.
Ser Cley Crane’s revenge never came.
On the third day, however, Red Lake sent a twelve-man squad to White Village to collect the six dead soldiers and their equipment.
No trouble followed.
The squad’s captain even asked to meet Alden and crossed swords with him once.
The result was predictable.
The man had clearly received proper training and could handle ordinary soldiers, but under Alden’s hands he lasted only two moves before losing his sword.
Had they been using live steel, the captain’s arm would have come away with it.
He took the defeat without anger.
If anything, he admired Alden more for it.
Before leaving, he hinted that Red Lake would not pursue the matter of the six dead guardsmen, though Alden would still have to pay a price.
He did not say what that price would be.
White Village’s brief quiet ended on the sixth day, when a company of men arrived on the road.
There were about a hundred of them, all fully armed.
Every man wore full leather armor and carried a spear and sword.
Some had bows slung across their backs.
From the look of them, this was a properly equipped fighting force. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Seven knights led them.
Six wore different armor and different badges, but all of them had plate, marking them as men from noble families sworn beneath House Crane.
The knight at the front was taller and broader than the other six.
Mounted on a large warhorse, he stood a full head above the rest even without sitting straight in the saddle.
That alone gave him a force the others lacked.
His plate was unlike theirs as well.
Its style spoke of old inheritance, and the green hand of House Gardener still marked the metal.
His helm, by contrast, was newly made and startling in shape.
It had been fashioned after the firetail rooster of Red Lake Forest, a fiercely territorial bird that would fight even dangerous beasts to protect its ground and young.
Perhaps the helm was meant to declare the knight’s own nature.
The company stopped before Old Baine’s tavern.
Baine and Alden had already come out at the sound, and plenty of villagers had gathered to watch.
The moment Baine recognized the leading knight, he went forward and bowed.
“Ser Joel.”
Ser Joel Flowers tightened the reins and brought his warhorse under control.
Looking down at the old man, he said, “Longspear Baine.
I still remember the way you led your men through an enemy line.
A man like you belongs on a battlefield, not in a country tavern.”
“Not every man has your ambition, my lord,” Baine replied with a smile.
“Compared with dying on a field where no one bothers to gather my corpse, I would rather drink myself senseless and die in my own bed.”
The knights behind Joel showed their contempt at that.
Joel himself did not.
His gaze moved to Alden and measured him from head to toe.
“You are the Bear-Hunter?”
“Yes, my lord.” Alden inclined his head.
From the moment Joel Flowers appeared, he had been judging the gap between them.
He had defeated many opponents over the past several days.
He had slaughtered six Red Lake guardsmen in brilliant fashion.
But men like those could not represent the true warriors of this world.
Most were farmers who had been handed weapons.
A few had learned some swordplay, but not much.
They stood at the bottom of this world’s fighting ranks.
Joel Flowers, by contrast, represented the upper reaches.
A swordsman admired by Barristan the Bold had proven his strength by that fact alone.
Elsewhere aside, there could not be many men in the Reach capable of beating him one-on-one.
That made Alden feel an almost irresistible urge to challenge him and measure his own true strength.
He knew very well that this was not the right moment, and he forced the impulse down.
He suppressed it, but not completely enough.
Joel sensed the thin edge of fighting intent from him and asked, with blunt directness, “Do you want to challenge me?”
“Yes, my lord,” Alden answered, nodding again.
Before Joel could speak, one of the squires behind him snapped, “Insolent cur.
What right does a lowborn thing like you have to challenge Ser Joel?”
“Lowborn?” Joel turned and looked at the insulted-looking squire.
“Lower than a bastard?”
The squire froze, then realized he had touched Joel’s sorest point.
“My lord, I did not mean you.”
Joel held his gaze.
“Leave it.
I know you did not intend it.
But remember this.
Since you have become my squire, put aside your thoughts of noble and base blood.
In this world, the thing that keeps you alive and helps you win honor is the sword in your hand, not the blood in your body or the rank that blood represents.”
“I understand, my lord,” the squire said, lowering his head.
Joel shook his head slightly.
He did not believe this highborn squire understood him at all, but he did not explain further.
He turned back to Alden.
“I have settled your trouble with Red Lake.
Next, you will join my army.
Once you have earned enough merit on the field, I will recommend you to Ser Vortimer as a squire.”
“As you command, my lord,” Alden answered at once, without the slightest hesitation.
I hope this chapter pulled you a little deeper into the story.
Stay close, because things are only getting more interesting.