A new chapter is up.
Come in, get comfortable, and let’s see what kind of trouble waits this time ❤️
✦
“What happened after that?” Alden asked, curiosity pushing him on.
“What became of him?”
Joel thought for a moment.
“I heard he took his reward from the family after the battle and retired from the guard.”
“Retired?” Alden found that almost absurd, like a tale ending just as it reached the interesting part.
“What else could he do?” Joel sighed softly, as if he pitied Baine.
“He was already old then, and badly wounded.
Even after he healed, he might not have been able to take up spear or sword properly again.
By merit alone, he had earned a knighthood.
Unfortunately, his birth was too common.
Every path upward had been blocked.
Staying in the guard would have gained him nothing.”
Alden frowned.
“A commoner cannot become a noble?”
“Of course he can,” Joel said, shaking his head.
“But for a commoner to rise into nobility is a hundred times harder than for a noble’s son to keep what he was born to.
It takes luck, strength, and a gift for maneuvering.
Old Baine likely had poor luck and little taste for maneuvering.”
As Alden listened, two figures surfaced in his mind.
Both seemed to fit the conditions Joel had named, and both had climbed to the peak of power.
One was Janos Slynt.
The son of a butcher had used every means available to become commander of the City Watch of King’s Landing and later Lord of Harrenhal.
Absurd as it was, that could almost be called an inspiring example.
The other was Bronn, the sellsword.
In the show, through his connection with Tyrion, he had risen step by step until he became Warden of the South and Lord of Highgarden, one of the final winners.
He was certainly a man favored by fortune.
When Alden had watched it back then, the appointment had not felt especially strange.
Now that he stood inside the world of ice and fire and understood the power structure of Westeros, the idea of Bronn becoming Warden of the South and Lord of Highgarden struck him as pure nonsense.
Harrenhal had fallen into ruin.
Even after Janos Slynt was granted the lordship, he had not dared go there and take possession.
The Reach, by contrast, was packed with ancient houses and powerful lords, rich in soldiers and grain.
How could they ever allow a lowborn sellsword to become their overlord?
Such an appointment would not need to be formally issued to cause disaster.
Merely discussing it would likely spark unrest across the Reach and might end in another war.
By any normal analysis, that choice in the show could only have been written by someone whose wits had deserted him.
Even setting aside that foolishness, Bronn remained a striking example, and a case worth studying.
While he was thinking of those two common-born men who had reached nobility, Joel did not notice his distraction.
He kept watching him and continued, “Old Baine may have lacked too much, but he raised you well.
I do not know your luck yet, but in strength and maneuvering, you are far ahead of him.”
“Thank you for the praise,” Alden said.
He could tell Joel had seen through the scheme he had used earlier, yet Joel did not seem disgusted by it or hostile toward him.
There was no need to hide, so Alden accepted the judgment directly.
Joel’s eyes showed a trace of approval at that honesty.
With a small smile, he said, “Bear-Hunter.
Twin-Sword Master.
Those two names have already spread around Red Lake.
The Bear-Hunter’s song has even reached Highgarden through the singers.
I hear Lord Willas Tyrell once asked Ser Vortimer about you.”
“Is that rumor why you thought of recommending me to Ser Vortimer?” Alden asked.
Joel nodded, admitting it.
Then he reminded him, “The recommendation depends on you performing well in this battle.”
“Why help me so much?”
Joel was silent for a moment.
When he answered, his tone had grown lazy.
“Because this place is dull.
From top to bottom, it is a stagnant pond.
I want to throw something into it and see what happens.
I hope you do not disappoint me.”
With that, he waved a hand, dismissing Alden.
On the way, he thought back over Joel’s words.
From those few sentences, he could sense that Joel was also dissatisfied with the current order in the Reach.
The knight simply had no intention of challenging that order himself.
Instead, he wanted to use him as a stone thrown ahead to test the road.
Whatever Joel’s true purpose might be, at this stage he was an aid to him.
All Alden needed to do was display his strength perfectly.
With those thoughts in mind, he reached the ruined corner tower where the logistics men had settled and found the leatherworker.
He stripped off the ill-fitting leather armor he wore, handed it over, and gave his requirements.
The armor belonged to Old Baine.
Their builds were too different.
It sat badly on Alden and would interfere with his movement.
If left as it was, it would be a serious hindrance in battle.
The army’s leatherworker might not be able to make armor from nothing, but altering a suit of leather was well within his ability.
“Two silver stags,” the man said after looking over the armor and hearing the request.
Alden frowned.
“Is repair for weapons and armor not free for men in the force?”
A voice came from behind him.
“Repair for men in the force is free.
But you are not one of them.”
Alden turned.
The speaker was the same squire who had shouted at him in front of Old Baine’s tavern two days earlier, calling him baseborn and unworthy of challenging Joel Flowers.
Joel had rebuked the young man then.
Alden had sensed the squire’s resentment and expected him to seek trouble.
For two days he had behaved normally, as if he had forgotten the matter.
Now it seemed he had only been waiting for a chance.
Facing the provocation, Alden showed no anger.
He looked at the squire once, then took out two silver stags, placed them on the leatherworker’s table, and said, “Here are two silver stags.
I need this armor altered by tonight.
If you fail to meet my requirements, I will take back the coins and cut off one of your hands as punishment.”
The leatherworker froze.
He had only obeyed the squire’s instruction and made things difficult for Alden.
He had not expected to draw fire onto himself.
He could feel that Alden was not merely talking.
If the work was not done, the man truly might cut off his hand.
And though the leatherworker did not know Alden’s exact status, the fact that he had spent the past few days at Joel’s side was enough to prove he was not ordinary.
Panic filled the man’s face.
He looked to the squire, begging silently for help.
The squire had not expected this response either.
He stepped forward at once, blocking Alden’s path, and barked, “Damn you.
What do you think you are doing?
Passing private punishment in the army?”
Alden did not look at him at all.
His eyes stayed on the leatherworker.
“If I were you, I would start altering the armor now.
There is not much time.
Or do you think he can solve this trouble for you?” He pointed at the squire.
“True, if he stands here, I will not make a move.
But can you be sure he will stand beside you every moment?
When night comes, will he not return to rest?
Will he guard you while you sleep?
The instant he leaves your side, I will act.
Do you still feel safe?”
The leatherworker went pale.
He dared not look at the squire again.
He snatched up the armor, called several apprentices over, and began making the demanded changes.
Only then did Alden turn to the squire, whose face had gone red with fury.
“You should not drag uninvolved men into your quarrel, especially when you cannot protect them.
And what are you, still at the breast?
Little tricks like this do not hurt me.
They only make you look foolish.”
Rage left him briefly unable to find the words.
“I just realized I do not know your name,” Alden said, as if the thought had only now occurred to him.
He looked at the squire, then quickly waved the matter away.
“Never mind.
I have no need to know it.
To me, you are nothing.”
With that, he walked toward the castle gate.
He meant to use the time to familiarize himself with the surrounding ground, so unfamiliar terrain would not cause trouble during battle.
“Stand where you are!
I, El Morrison of Longship, challenge you to a duel!” The squire finally lost control of his anger.
He pulled the glove from one hand and threw it at him.
Alden did not catch it.
He let the glove strike him and fall to the ground.
He did stop.
Turning, he looked down at the glove, then at El Morrison, who had issued the challenge.
While El still waited for his answer, Alden rushed forward in a single step.
Before the squire could react, his fist smashed into El’s jaw.
A suffocating burst of pain shot through the young man’s face, and he blacked out at once, collapsing to the ground.
Everything happened too suddenly.
Alden’s attack came without warning, and his movement was frighteningly fast.
The watching squires and bystanders saw only a blurred shadow before El Morrison went down under one punch.
Alden turned toward the other squires and said coldly, “Carry that fool back.
Next time, I may not limit myself to my fist.”
Then he continued toward the gate.
“Wait.
Stop there!” one of the squires shouted.
Alden halted at the sound.
He looked back at them and set his hands on the swords at his waist.
“What?
Do you want to throw gloves at me as well?”
This time, none of the squires spoke, including the one who had called after him.
In that instant, Alden was no longer the lucky country hunter in their eyes.
The moment his hands touched his hilts, they felt an invisible pressure, the same kind of pressure they had only ever felt from Joel Flowers.
Their bodies tightened on instinct, not daring the smallest relaxation.
When they gave no answer, Alden ignored them.
He took his hands from his sword hilts and walked on.
This time, no one stopped him before he passed through Standfast’s broken gate.
Only after he vanished beyond the gate did the squires’ tense bodies relax.
As one, they let out long breaths.
Then they exchanged bitter smiles and immediately ordered their men to carry their unconscious companion back to his room.
Afterward, they repeatedly ordered everyone present not to spread word of what had happened, especially not to let it reach Joel.
What they did not know was that before they had even carried their companion away, the small clash with Alden had already been reported to Joel in detail.
Joel merely smiled after hearing it.
He said nothing.
The memories left by the body’s former owner were not plentiful, but most of what remained concerned hunting.
Because of them, Alden could move through forest quickly despite having no such wilderness experience in his old life.
He soon became familiar with the nearby terrain and, through good fortune, discovered the hidden smuggling path in the mountains.
After studying the path and the land around it, he chose several suitable ambush points and made his way back.
He returned to Standfast before dark.
By then, Standfast was far livelier than when he had left at noon.
A temporary camp had appeared at the foot of the hill beneath the castle.
By rough count, it held six or seven hundred men, and their weapons were good.
Their spears had iron heads.
Many men carried hatchets or short swords.
More than a dozen knights moved through the camp.
A banner hung high above it, displaying House Webber’s white, red-spotted spider upon a silver web over black.
Even in the dim forest light, the spider device stood out clearly.
Seen from a distance, it stirred a faint, instinctive chill.
Alden’s prediction to Joel had come true.
House Webber, guilty in heart, had rushed to send the largest force it could spare to aid Joel in destroying the outlaws of Red Lake Forest, or rather the Targaryen holdouts.
The number and quality of their men made one thing obvious: the Webbers meant to wipe those outlaws cleanly away and leave no opening for anyone, especially House Rowan, to accuse them afterward.
I hope this chapter pulled you a little deeper into the story.
Stay close, because things are only getting more interesting.