Book 2, Chapter 3 - Ours is the Fury
Sept 27, 2018 14:45:44 GMT
InGenNateKenny, CM3434, and 4 more like this
Post by LiquidChicagoTed on Sept 27, 2018 14:45:44 GMT
Welcome to the third chapter of Forum of Thrones' second book!
For the sake of having the complete chapter up here, I'll repost the first two parts already, though the voting has taken place over on the Telltale forums before. Starting with the third part, there will be new options for you to vote on. As of the time of this writing, this third part should be ready very soon, so I hope you'll enjoy it
Act I: The Calm Before
Chapter III: Ours is the Fury
Drent
Drent had never been this far to the north of his kingdom. Away from the storm-plagued coastal cliffs, the dark, quiet Rainwood or the fertile plains to the west of Storm's End, this region seemed wild, in a way. What counted as the main road to Bronzegate was probably the only actually fortified route in Lord Buckler's lands, connecting his castle with the neighbouring seats of Haystack Hall and Felwood. It truly was the border of the kingdom, a wide, wild and sparsely populated region.
For three days, they had been riding through the outskirts of a massive and barely tamed forest, passing merely small villages, inhabited by lumberjacks. Though there had been little rain, the air was cold nonetheless and a couple of crafty villagers had made a fortune selling fur to the shivering soldiers. Even after they had left the forest itself behind, the cold remained and at night, Drent found himself wishing for the comfort of Storm's End.
Argella, as he realized, would likely use a fancy word to describe the region, such as archaic, and he smirked at the thought. At the same time, it reminded him of how much he missed her. The ring she had given him was always close. It was a woman's ring, made for slender hands, so he had to wear it on a thin leather strap around his neck, hidden beneath his tabard.
The castle of Bronzegate itself was located a couple miles beyond the outskirts of the forest. It was small, at least when compared to Storm's End or the bastions that guarded the Dornish Marches. Located atop the highest hill in the region, it guarded the only major road connecting this part of the kingdom with the area around Blackwater Bay. As such, it reminded Drent more of a fort, built entirely to guard and not to house a lord and his family. Thick walls encircled a small courtyard, broad towers guarding the sides. The gate itself had once consisted entirely of bronze, as Drent had been told, back in the days of the First Men, but it had since been changed to a much more practical combination of sturdy wood and heavy iron, the bronze itself merely a thin layer at the top.
“Ah, behold!”, Bernard exclaimed. Riding a horse had been hard for the man, with his arm still in a sling and one leg displaying a notable limp. But he had not complained, Drent could at least give him that much. He should be in a bed right now, making sure that his broken bones would properly heal. But there he was, leading two hundred men to his father's castle, ready to fight a war. Two dozen of them were on horseback, the rest split into infantrymen and archers.
“It's smaller than I expected”, Torrence mumbled next to Drent, who frowned in return. They were the first row, riding just behind Emphryus, Bernard, Jonathan and Warrick. If any of them had heard his words, they did not comment on them. “My father will give us a worthy welcome!”, Bernard promised. “Tonight, men, all of you will have it warm, a dry place to sleep and a good meal in your bellies!”
He had shouted these words, so that even the last of the soldiers could hear him. They replied in kind, loud and cheerful. Drent joined in. After weeks on the road, not much was needed to satisfy him. However, he noticed that Edonia frowned. She noticed his glance and shot him a nervous smile. “Things seem worse than we were told”, she whispered.
Drent raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”, he asked and she gulped. “That is no large castle and we are two hundred”, she explained. “Do you truly think it can house that many guests without issue?” Thinking about it for a moment, Drent shook his head. “You think House Buckler has less soldiers than Bernard claims?”
To this, she shrugged. “Has he claimed a thing?”, she asked in return. “I merely say that I doubt Lord Buckler has called for his men-at-arms. They are still out there, being lumberjacks and farmers and all these things they should be. I doubt he has that many standing forces and it seems he wasted time recruiting the peasants”
“Means we'll be the first in battle”, Torrence concluded, shooting his sister a dark glare. “You just had to say that, eh? Doubt I'll get proper sleep after that”, he complained, perhaps a bit too loud, as Emphryus shot his soldiers a glare in this very moment. Quickly though, he cracked a smile. “You worry too easily, Bernile”, he growled. “No wonder Montclair preferred your sister”
Torrence clenched his teeth, though he averted his gaze just as quickly, before his commanding officer noticed the anger. Instead, he focussed onto the castle, as they quickly rode closer. Bronzegate wasn't particularly impressive even up close, but Drent had to admire how utterly practical it was. The way the towers were arranged, they allowed for a precise overview of the hilly terrain that surrounded the castle. The walls were sturdy and in pristine condition, even if the amount of guards left much to be desired. There were no patrols, no perimeters and the two hundred Stormlanders were able to leave the forest in their entirety before a horn sound signalled that they have been noticed. But in theory, Bronzegate was perfect for its task, guarding the northern Stormlands without much splendour.
At least with one thing, Bernard should remain correct. The gates of Bronzegate were sturdy and in the autumn sun, the bronze that covered them shined brightly as they approached. It was a tiny spark of beauty in an otherwise barren castle. The courtyard behind was oozing convenience, a completely unadorned square, where a handful of guards had gathered.
The man in their mid was clearly their leader. Clad in fine armour, he wore the colours of House Buckler proudly on the tabard above. Heavy gloves covered his hands, the lack of steel gauntlets perhaps the only indicator that he wasn't dressed for war. His left hand rested on a broad sword on his belt, the other moved to the thick, dark cloak around his shoulders. An ageing face, covered in deep wrinkles, his bald head covered in a light tan. The same dark brown eyes as his son, but with a sharpness to them Drent hadn't seen in Bernard yet.
“Father!”, Bernard greeted the man and he received a nod in return, as Benedict Buckler crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Bernard”, he growled. “You return without the princess” It was a statement, spoken in a cold, unemotional tone. Bernard frowned, before he nodded. “I am afraid the plans have changed”, he spoke. “An army is on its way. I was sent with these men to support you in the defence of Bronzegate”
Lord Benedict glanced at the soldiers behind his son. For a moment, his face lit up. “Emphryus Dresfel”, he mumbled and the knight descended from his horse. Unlike Bernard, his injuries hadn't been as major and he was already walking without even the hint of a limp. Or perhaps the knight was just truly the toughest man Drent had ever met, as he approached the Lord of Bronzegate, casually extending a hand. “Mylord Buckler!”, he spoke. “I wasn't sure you'd recognize me”
With a thin smile, Benedict grabbed the knight's hand and shook it. “A warrior of your renown?”, he asked. “How could I ever forget a man like that? If the king sends you, the situation must be truly dire” To this, Bernard nodded, perhaps in an attempt to regain his father's attention. “We believe Targaryen will send his vanguard soon”, he spoke.
Instantly, Benedict's smile faded. “Your information is outdated”, he replied. “I received word, from no other than Targaryen's general” Drent clenched his fists as the thought of the dark-haired knight flashed through his mind. “Baratheon”, Emphryus growled and Benedict nodded. “I expect nothing from a bastard”, he confirmed. “But he requested a negotiation”
That, to be honest, came as a surprise and next to him, Edonia gasped. Emphryus tilted his head. “Is he for real?”, he asked. “Bastard comes here with an army and wants to have a little chat?” Benedict shrugged. “I decided to allow him and two dozen of his men inside my walls. It can't hurt to hear him out”, he replied.
“Are you sure this is wise, father?”, Bernard asked, as Jonathan Errol came to help him down his horse. With his injured leg, he barely made it and Benedict raised an eyebrow. “I don't think you're in the place to question my wisdom, boy”, he replied calmly. “What happened to you? Got into another fight you couldn't win?”
Bernard gulped, but it was Emphryus who came to his aid. “You should see the other one”, he replied and put a hand on his chest. “That'd be me. Your son had the misfortune of jousting against me. Despite that, he kept coming, no matter how often I landed a blow. Never saw a man who so strictly refused to go down” He winked. “You'd be proud”
To this, Benedict blinked. “Is that so?”, he asked and his son nodded, more sheepish than Drent expected. For a moment, the lord just looked at Bernard, before he reciprocated the nod. “It's not a princess, not what I demanded, but it could have been worse”, he admitted. “Still, this is a bad time to be injured. If the talks go bad, we must expect a siege and fighting has always been the one thing you're best at”
He turned around, pointing at the keep at the other end of the courtyard. “But enough talk for now. It is a cold afternoon and I am sure you would prefer to continue this within the Great Hall”, he offered and the loud cheers from the soldiers were all the response he needed. With Emphryus by his side, he approached the Great Hall, while a multitude of servants rushed by to take care of the horses.
Bernard sighed, before Jonathan handed him the crutch he required to walk properly. It was a pitiful sight, yet Drent had been assured the man would make a full recovery in time. Still, not for the first time, he had to consider if it had been worth it. Just because Bernard wasn't crippled for life didn't mean it couldn't have happened. And Argella had been seemingly fine with the idea.
Lost in thoughts, he noticed the hand to stop him a moment too late and he bumped into the man in front of him. “Apologies...”, he mumbled, before he realized the tall figure of Warrick Fell in front of him. The look in his mismatched eyes was inscrutable, though Edonia and Torrence stopped at once. “A word”, Fell growled. “Alone. This won't take long”
His tone made it clear he would not accept anything else and Drent hesitantly gave Edonia a nod. She sighed, before she grabbed Torrence, gently pushing him towards the Great Hall, with rows of soldiers marching behind them. Drent however felt a slight nervousness rising, as he looked at Warrick. This had been the closest he has been to him since the melee and perhaps the first time the man ever actually spoke in his presence. His tone was calm, but there was an underlying anger, perhaps a remnant of his rather shameful defeat.
“What is the matter, mylord?”, Drent asked casually, trying to sound as calm as possible. Warrick raised an eyebrow, above his pale blue eye. “The matter...”, he mumbled. “Is that I know what your deal is. It's Drent, right?” Drent nodded, unable to suppress a gulp and Warrick continued. “The way you fought against me in the melee... I observed the fights, picked them carefully, but you, you sought me out. You wanted to fight me and me in particular”
“I...”, Drent began, but Warrick cut him off. “Out of all the fighters, the only pair that did something similar were Roland Caron and Cedrik Dondarrion”, he explained. “And it's widely known they compete for the love of the Swann girl. Meanwhile, there have been rumours about how close you are to the Storm Princess. Makes me wonder, are we competitors?”
Drent bit down on his lower lip, as the man's unsettling stare seemed to look right at his deepest thoughts. “But that's not even it. Princess Argella is a beautiful woman, I get it, I honestly understand why you'd want to single me out in combat. Would I feel a thing for her, I'd probably do the same”, Warrick admitted. “But that does not explain the rest of what happened during the tourney. Jonathan, one of the best archers I know, defeated by a girl. That she even participated must have had a reason. Bernard just so happens to have the misfortune of facing Emphryus Dresfel in the first round of the joust. And I am singled out in combat by a man with known feelings for Princess Argella”
“What do you mean to say with that?”, Drent asked, slightly narrowing his eyes, but there was no anger. So close and without a weapon to defend himself, he was intimidated by Warrick Fell. Though the man showed no hint of anger, there was an aura of menace about him, perhaps originating from these unsettling eyes of his. “I think you know exactly what I mean”, he replied. “I think none of that was an accident, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear the truth” And now, Drent noticed that the man's fists were clenched. “Did she, or did she not, order the three of you to do that? To humiliate me and my friends during the tourney?”
[Admit the truth]
Kersea
On a surface level, Oldtown had barely changed since she'd last been there. It had been months and back then, the city had been torn with violence, split between the Burned Man and Butterfly. Things weren't much better now, at least at first glance. There was still a rotten aura all around it, a palpable menace. This was no place she'd want to raise a child in. The thought that her sister had been trapped in here for years, it still broke her heart.
But there was something else. Something she only slowly realized, after she and Leonard had passed the northern gates. The chaos they had left was still there, but the Burned Man and Butterfly were no more. It was merely the beginning of a new age for Oldtown and in the faces of those they passed, she saw something she hadn't seen before. Hope.
Leonard however seemed worse than ever. Returning to Oldtown, a place so heavily connected to Butterfly, to Clayton, it hadn't been easy for Kersea, but he, he took it worse than her. Never one to be particularly chatty, she noticed that he was even more quiet than usual. His face was a mask, expressing outward calmness, yet she knew that wasn't even remotely true.
“What's going through your mind?”, she asked and Leonard frowned, now openly. “I keep thinking how I'd rather be anywhere but here”, he admitted. She gave him a nod. “Tell me all about it”, she replied sarcastically and he rolled his eyes. “There's nowhere I want to be more than with my sister”
He nodded at that. “I'd rather be in Raylansfair, wrapping my hands around Mullendore's throat”, he told her. “Instead I'm here, stuck with you” She sighed. “And yet you don't want me to leave”, she spoke, to which he gulped. “If you'd try, I'd be the first to put a sword through your back”, he promised her, though there was no threat in his words. He was simply stating the obvious and somehow, this made his contempt all the worse. “Look, I don't hate you, not anymore I guess, but make no mistake. The reason you're here is to redeem yourself. Willing or not, you did an awful lot to help Mullendore”
“I know”, Kersea replied thinly. “And trust me, I won't leave. Even if you'd send me away I wouldn't do it. I want to look in the mirror without hating the person I see” This caused Leonard to raise an eyebrow. “And I can actually respect that”, he admitted. “I just want you to know where we're standing” He shrugged. “Though I appreciate the help against Drake. Keep it up and you might get out of this alive”
She raised an eyebrow. “How utterly merciful of you”, she said, forcing a smile and an uncomfortable silence followed. Thankfully, it only lasted for a moment, before a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Pulling her and Leonard into a hug from behind, Magnus Silverstone had approached them.
Over the past week of travelling, the man had remained a mystery for Kersea. He was a liar that much was clear to her. Spending a lifetime in the presence of liars made it easy to spot them. Claiming to hail from Dorne, his accent was impeccable, yet she knew it was unlikely to be the truth. So, Essos, perhaps to the far east, farther than Kersea had ever been.
Leonard shot him a glare, but the man replied with a charming smile. “Ah, my friends, why the long faces?”, he asked. “It is a beautiful day, in a city of opportunity!” Kersea managed a smirk. “We're not here for opportunity”, she replied and he nodded. “Ah, of course”, he agreed. “Your mysterious quest. I suppose you are still as tight-lipped as ever about it, yes?”
“You bet”, Leonard replied in her case. “And trust me, it'll be for the better. If you'd know, you'd be in danger” Magnus gave him a wide smile. “Or perhaps I could help”, he offered, causing Leonard and Kersea to share a look of disbelief. She subtly shook her head and Leonard cracked a thin smirk at her reaction. “How could you?”, he asked. “You got any contacts in Oldtown?”
Magnus' nod was enthusiastic, but Kersea was wary about telling him more than necessary. She and Leonard had quickly come to a silent agreement when it came to their travelling companions. Their destination was the same, but their goals were utterly different. In fact, she had still no idea what Magnus even wanted in Oldtown, for his stories contradicted themselves more often than not.
“Oh, the city loves me!”, he claimed, glancing at the crowd they were passing. “Isn't that right, my friend?”, he yelled towards a passer-by. The man raised an eyebrow briefly, but headed his own way without stopping. “Fuck off, nutjob”, he merely growled in return and Magnus gulped. “A tough love, I see”, Leonard replied, his voice oozing sarcasm.
“Well, perhaps they have forgotten”, Magnus admitted. “But the Citadel hasn't. Do you, by any chance need to go there?” Kersea narrowed her eyes. “And why would you want to help us?”, she asked, to which he winked at her. “It is simple, fair lady”, he replied. “I hate being in debt to someone. Magnus Silverstone is a free man, more than anything else. You saved my life and Bennett's too. So, is it that hard to believe that I want to repay you in kind?”
“Given the sort I had to deal with for years, you'd be surprised”, she told him, but to her surprise, Leonard put an arm around the man's shoulder. “You have contacts to the Citadel?”, he asked. Sensing an opportunity, Magnus lit up. “Well, it's no Archmaester, but there's several who owe me a favour. Alchemists and the like, who in return have contacts that go beyond what you'd expect from the Citadel”
Once more, Leonard glanced at Kersea. “Could be useful”, he admitted. “And we might indeed need your help. The Citadel is one goal of ours” Thankfully, Magnus used this opportunity to remove his grip around their shoulders and Kersea stretched her back. “Splendid!”, he exclaimed. “Ah, I can see just how we're going to help each other. Shall we head there right away?”
This time, Leonard shook his head. “First, Kersea and I gotta take care of something else”, he told him. “Why don't you go there first and we meet up with you in a bit?” Magnus' smile faded slightly, but he still kept it up. “Why, that would be a splendid idea”, he admitted. “Me and Bennett, we have to meet up with an old friend of mine either way. So, does it mean we part ways for now?”
“For now”, Leonard agreed, before he stopped. Shaking hands with Magnus, he patted him on the shoulder. “But we'll meet up again. Perhaps later this evening?” Magnus nodded. “We'll be at the Citadel”, he replied, before he placed a hand on Bennett's shoulder. The boy gave Kersea and Leonard a nod, before both turned around, walking down the main street.
Kersea sighed, as she looked after them. “You know we cannot trust him, right?”, she asked and Leonard nodded grimly. “But it gets them off our trail for now. Seems like an easy way to buy us time until we decide what to do about him”, he told her. “I don't know what he wants, if he even means ill at all, but I figured we gotta get rid of him for now if we want to visit your friend”
“He's not my friend”, Kersea reminded him. “I never even met the man, to be honest, but I know where to find him” Leonard shrugged. “Means the same to me. We can't have Magnus knowing where that guy lives. If we are to stay here for longer, we must have a place to stay in secret. Can he help us with that?”
She nodded. “Probably”, she replied, as she took the lead. It had been years, but even before getting to know her better, Alysanne's presence had the occasional benefit. And she had told her where to find acquaintances, contacts in major cities, people who might one day be able to help her. “So, what can you tell me about him?”, Leonard asked.
“His name's Vitihho”, she began to explain, as she led Leonard off the main street. “He's a merchant, at least that's what Alysanne claims. Used to be a sellsword, the kind that deals with... well, with people like me” Leonard frowned. “I already don't like him”, he complained and she smirked. “Alysanne once called him a friend, but I know she meant acquaintance”, she continued. “He settled down here in Oldtown half a decade ago. No more sellsword work for him, but he kept the contacts”
“What, did he develop a conscience?”, Leonard asked and she shook her head. “He started to get old”, she replied. “Must be in his forties by now. In my world, that's where you either stop or you die” She shrugged. “But I don't know the man. Might have been a conscience thing after all. It takes a special person to work with Clayton for so long without being abhorred by him”
“Takes a special person to settle in Oldtown, for crying out loud”, Leonard brought up. “You can't tell me he picked up honest work in here” To this, she shook her head. “As I said, he kept the contacts. Black market deals, unsavoury clients. According to Alysanne, Vitihho is the sort of man who can get you anything for the right price”
With this, she tilted her head, as they entered another alleyway. “What's the deal with you and this city either way?”, she asked. “I don't like it either, but I've been to worse places” To her surprise, Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Then you have my condolences”, he said wholeheartedly. “Nobody deserves a place worse than Oldtown” She noticed that his fists were clenched. “But nah, I don't want to talk about it, if that's what you mean. Brings back bad memories, that's all”
It wasn't all and she knew it. However, if there was one thing she had learned about Leonard Constantine in the past months, it was to respect his privacy. After a while of silence, the knight spoke up again. “And you never met the man?”, he asked. Kersea shook her head. “I stood guard once, outside, while Alysanne had a talk with him”, she replied. There was one aspect she kept silent from him and it was just what Alysanne had been doing at Vitihho's place. She had her doubts Leonard would appreciate a man so freely selling poison to someone as unstable as Alysanne.
“So, we have no idea if he's going to help us?”, the knight asked. To this, Kersea smirked slightly. “He never asks questions. Always been there for people like me, at least that's what Alysanne said. He owed her a couple favours, apparently”, she replied, but talking about her friend left her unable to keep up the smile for long. “So yeah, he will help us”
By now, they had left the busy part of Oldtown. Tanner's Alley was a bad place even for this city. Once firmly in Butterfly's territory, it had taken his absence particularly hard. Her skilled glance quickly revealed to her that half of the buildings stood empty. Of course, it had never been any pleasant, but seeing these houses as nothing but abandoned shells, it was hard to watch.
“We're there”, she just said, as she quickly approached a wooden gate. Opening it, she revealed a small backyard, with a single door leading into the building itself. Narrow windows allowed anyone inside a good view of the new visitors, while she herself was unable to see anything in there. It was the place that instinctively caused her to tense up and she noticed how Leonard's hand was clenched heavily around his sword. “Keep that sheathed if you don't want any trouble”, she warned him and he followed her advice for once. After a moment of hesitation, she knocked at the door.
At first, nothing happened. Leonard took a step back and Kersea narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps he isn't...”, the knight said, as footsteps sounded from the other side. The door got opened, just a tiny bit, before being pushed open a bit farther, revealing the man behind.
He was tall, taller than Leonard even, with the build of a seasoned warrior and skin a shade of dark bronze. While numerous wrinkles on his face hinted at his true age, his dark brown hair showed no sign of grey. Part of it was tied into a loose knot, though some strands fell down onto his shoulders. A short beard covered his flat chin and his dark eyes were narrowed. His impressive upper body was covered merely by a vest, leaving his massive, hairy arms uncovered, though Kersea's nervousness grew as she realized she was only able to see one of his hands, the other hidden behind the door, probably holding a weapon of sorts.
“Who the fuck are you?”, he growled in a deep voice. Unlike Magnus, he did not bother to hide his accent, even if his common tongue was flawless. Kersea gulped, before she shot him a smile. “My name is Kersea, this is Leonard”, she revealed. “We're here to talk to Vitihho. Have we come to the right place?” The man narrowed his eyes, spitting onto the ground in front of her. “Who told you that name?”, he asked.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I am a friend of Alysanne”, she told him. “Alysanne Waters, you do remember...” He cut her off. “Alysanne has no friends”, he stated in a gruff voice. “Means you have come to the wrong place” Before she was able to say anything else, he had closed the door once more.
A moment of silence passed, as Kersea blinked, staring at the closed door in front of her. Then laughter cut through the afternoon air. She threw a glare over her shoulder, where Leonard was chuckling wildly. “You have come to the wrong place”, he repeated, mocking the man's accent. “Oh, this was beautiful! Do it again, embarrass yourself!”
She groaned in frustration, as she shook her head. “Stop laughing!”, she demanded and he continued to giggle slightly. “Yeah, you're telling me again how that guy is going to help us?”, he replied. “Just what I expected from someone dealing with your lot” Her glare grew more furious, as she shook her head. “Just shut up and listen”, she spat.
To her surprise, he actually did just that, giving her a nod to continue. “It's something Alysanne just said”, she explained. “Vitihho's the secretive kind. Guess that's to be expected in his line of work, but he won't just order us in like that” She shrugged. “I expected that”, she lied and Leonard raised an eyebrow. “So, you mean he's testing us?”, he asked.
“Yeah, kind of”, Kersea confirmed and the knight smirked. “So what, you just intend to knock on his door until he gets tired and hears you out?”, he asked. “That'd show your determination” Before she could throw him an angry glare, she realized he was only half joking. Admittedly, it would show determination and all she needed was five quiet minutes with the man to tell him what happened to Alysanne, to hopefully win his support.
“I considered sneaking in”, she told him. “Buildings like that, they always have a second way in” To this, Leonard shook his head. “Way too dangerous”, he protested. “That man's armed, probably ready for violence. What do you think he'll do if he finds you sneaking around?”
“Hopefully, he'll invite me for a chat”, she told him, though she had to admit, her plan didn't sound too solid either, upon closer consideration. But what choice did she have? If Vitihho was unwilling to listen, forcing him to do just that sounded like the only option. She just knew, she was not willing to give up. They needed help here in Oldtown, a solid place to stay and the resources that came with a man of his profession.
[Knock again]
For the sake of having the complete chapter up here, I'll repost the first two parts already, though the voting has taken place over on the Telltale forums before. Starting with the third part, there will be new options for you to vote on. As of the time of this writing, this third part should be ready very soon, so I hope you'll enjoy it
Act I: The Calm Before
Chapter III: Ours is the Fury
Drent
Drent had never been this far to the north of his kingdom. Away from the storm-plagued coastal cliffs, the dark, quiet Rainwood or the fertile plains to the west of Storm's End, this region seemed wild, in a way. What counted as the main road to Bronzegate was probably the only actually fortified route in Lord Buckler's lands, connecting his castle with the neighbouring seats of Haystack Hall and Felwood. It truly was the border of the kingdom, a wide, wild and sparsely populated region.
For three days, they had been riding through the outskirts of a massive and barely tamed forest, passing merely small villages, inhabited by lumberjacks. Though there had been little rain, the air was cold nonetheless and a couple of crafty villagers had made a fortune selling fur to the shivering soldiers. Even after they had left the forest itself behind, the cold remained and at night, Drent found himself wishing for the comfort of Storm's End.
Argella, as he realized, would likely use a fancy word to describe the region, such as archaic, and he smirked at the thought. At the same time, it reminded him of how much he missed her. The ring she had given him was always close. It was a woman's ring, made for slender hands, so he had to wear it on a thin leather strap around his neck, hidden beneath his tabard.
The castle of Bronzegate itself was located a couple miles beyond the outskirts of the forest. It was small, at least when compared to Storm's End or the bastions that guarded the Dornish Marches. Located atop the highest hill in the region, it guarded the only major road connecting this part of the kingdom with the area around Blackwater Bay. As such, it reminded Drent more of a fort, built entirely to guard and not to house a lord and his family. Thick walls encircled a small courtyard, broad towers guarding the sides. The gate itself had once consisted entirely of bronze, as Drent had been told, back in the days of the First Men, but it had since been changed to a much more practical combination of sturdy wood and heavy iron, the bronze itself merely a thin layer at the top.
“Ah, behold!”, Bernard exclaimed. Riding a horse had been hard for the man, with his arm still in a sling and one leg displaying a notable limp. But he had not complained, Drent could at least give him that much. He should be in a bed right now, making sure that his broken bones would properly heal. But there he was, leading two hundred men to his father's castle, ready to fight a war. Two dozen of them were on horseback, the rest split into infantrymen and archers.
“It's smaller than I expected”, Torrence mumbled next to Drent, who frowned in return. They were the first row, riding just behind Emphryus, Bernard, Jonathan and Warrick. If any of them had heard his words, they did not comment on them. “My father will give us a worthy welcome!”, Bernard promised. “Tonight, men, all of you will have it warm, a dry place to sleep and a good meal in your bellies!”
He had shouted these words, so that even the last of the soldiers could hear him. They replied in kind, loud and cheerful. Drent joined in. After weeks on the road, not much was needed to satisfy him. However, he noticed that Edonia frowned. She noticed his glance and shot him a nervous smile. “Things seem worse than we were told”, she whispered.
Drent raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”, he asked and she gulped. “That is no large castle and we are two hundred”, she explained. “Do you truly think it can house that many guests without issue?” Thinking about it for a moment, Drent shook his head. “You think House Buckler has less soldiers than Bernard claims?”
To this, she shrugged. “Has he claimed a thing?”, she asked in return. “I merely say that I doubt Lord Buckler has called for his men-at-arms. They are still out there, being lumberjacks and farmers and all these things they should be. I doubt he has that many standing forces and it seems he wasted time recruiting the peasants”
“Means we'll be the first in battle”, Torrence concluded, shooting his sister a dark glare. “You just had to say that, eh? Doubt I'll get proper sleep after that”, he complained, perhaps a bit too loud, as Emphryus shot his soldiers a glare in this very moment. Quickly though, he cracked a smile. “You worry too easily, Bernile”, he growled. “No wonder Montclair preferred your sister”
Torrence clenched his teeth, though he averted his gaze just as quickly, before his commanding officer noticed the anger. Instead, he focussed onto the castle, as they quickly rode closer. Bronzegate wasn't particularly impressive even up close, but Drent had to admire how utterly practical it was. The way the towers were arranged, they allowed for a precise overview of the hilly terrain that surrounded the castle. The walls were sturdy and in pristine condition, even if the amount of guards left much to be desired. There were no patrols, no perimeters and the two hundred Stormlanders were able to leave the forest in their entirety before a horn sound signalled that they have been noticed. But in theory, Bronzegate was perfect for its task, guarding the northern Stormlands without much splendour.
At least with one thing, Bernard should remain correct. The gates of Bronzegate were sturdy and in the autumn sun, the bronze that covered them shined brightly as they approached. It was a tiny spark of beauty in an otherwise barren castle. The courtyard behind was oozing convenience, a completely unadorned square, where a handful of guards had gathered.
The man in their mid was clearly their leader. Clad in fine armour, he wore the colours of House Buckler proudly on the tabard above. Heavy gloves covered his hands, the lack of steel gauntlets perhaps the only indicator that he wasn't dressed for war. His left hand rested on a broad sword on his belt, the other moved to the thick, dark cloak around his shoulders. An ageing face, covered in deep wrinkles, his bald head covered in a light tan. The same dark brown eyes as his son, but with a sharpness to them Drent hadn't seen in Bernard yet.
“Father!”, Bernard greeted the man and he received a nod in return, as Benedict Buckler crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Bernard”, he growled. “You return without the princess” It was a statement, spoken in a cold, unemotional tone. Bernard frowned, before he nodded. “I am afraid the plans have changed”, he spoke. “An army is on its way. I was sent with these men to support you in the defence of Bronzegate”
Lord Benedict glanced at the soldiers behind his son. For a moment, his face lit up. “Emphryus Dresfel”, he mumbled and the knight descended from his horse. Unlike Bernard, his injuries hadn't been as major and he was already walking without even the hint of a limp. Or perhaps the knight was just truly the toughest man Drent had ever met, as he approached the Lord of Bronzegate, casually extending a hand. “Mylord Buckler!”, he spoke. “I wasn't sure you'd recognize me”
With a thin smile, Benedict grabbed the knight's hand and shook it. “A warrior of your renown?”, he asked. “How could I ever forget a man like that? If the king sends you, the situation must be truly dire” To this, Bernard nodded, perhaps in an attempt to regain his father's attention. “We believe Targaryen will send his vanguard soon”, he spoke.
Instantly, Benedict's smile faded. “Your information is outdated”, he replied. “I received word, from no other than Targaryen's general” Drent clenched his fists as the thought of the dark-haired knight flashed through his mind. “Baratheon”, Emphryus growled and Benedict nodded. “I expect nothing from a bastard”, he confirmed. “But he requested a negotiation”
That, to be honest, came as a surprise and next to him, Edonia gasped. Emphryus tilted his head. “Is he for real?”, he asked. “Bastard comes here with an army and wants to have a little chat?” Benedict shrugged. “I decided to allow him and two dozen of his men inside my walls. It can't hurt to hear him out”, he replied.
“Are you sure this is wise, father?”, Bernard asked, as Jonathan Errol came to help him down his horse. With his injured leg, he barely made it and Benedict raised an eyebrow. “I don't think you're in the place to question my wisdom, boy”, he replied calmly. “What happened to you? Got into another fight you couldn't win?”
Bernard gulped, but it was Emphryus who came to his aid. “You should see the other one”, he replied and put a hand on his chest. “That'd be me. Your son had the misfortune of jousting against me. Despite that, he kept coming, no matter how often I landed a blow. Never saw a man who so strictly refused to go down” He winked. “You'd be proud”
To this, Benedict blinked. “Is that so?”, he asked and his son nodded, more sheepish than Drent expected. For a moment, the lord just looked at Bernard, before he reciprocated the nod. “It's not a princess, not what I demanded, but it could have been worse”, he admitted. “Still, this is a bad time to be injured. If the talks go bad, we must expect a siege and fighting has always been the one thing you're best at”
He turned around, pointing at the keep at the other end of the courtyard. “But enough talk for now. It is a cold afternoon and I am sure you would prefer to continue this within the Great Hall”, he offered and the loud cheers from the soldiers were all the response he needed. With Emphryus by his side, he approached the Great Hall, while a multitude of servants rushed by to take care of the horses.
Bernard sighed, before Jonathan handed him the crutch he required to walk properly. It was a pitiful sight, yet Drent had been assured the man would make a full recovery in time. Still, not for the first time, he had to consider if it had been worth it. Just because Bernard wasn't crippled for life didn't mean it couldn't have happened. And Argella had been seemingly fine with the idea.
Lost in thoughts, he noticed the hand to stop him a moment too late and he bumped into the man in front of him. “Apologies...”, he mumbled, before he realized the tall figure of Warrick Fell in front of him. The look in his mismatched eyes was inscrutable, though Edonia and Torrence stopped at once. “A word”, Fell growled. “Alone. This won't take long”
His tone made it clear he would not accept anything else and Drent hesitantly gave Edonia a nod. She sighed, before she grabbed Torrence, gently pushing him towards the Great Hall, with rows of soldiers marching behind them. Drent however felt a slight nervousness rising, as he looked at Warrick. This had been the closest he has been to him since the melee and perhaps the first time the man ever actually spoke in his presence. His tone was calm, but there was an underlying anger, perhaps a remnant of his rather shameful defeat.
“What is the matter, mylord?”, Drent asked casually, trying to sound as calm as possible. Warrick raised an eyebrow, above his pale blue eye. “The matter...”, he mumbled. “Is that I know what your deal is. It's Drent, right?” Drent nodded, unable to suppress a gulp and Warrick continued. “The way you fought against me in the melee... I observed the fights, picked them carefully, but you, you sought me out. You wanted to fight me and me in particular”
“I...”, Drent began, but Warrick cut him off. “Out of all the fighters, the only pair that did something similar were Roland Caron and Cedrik Dondarrion”, he explained. “And it's widely known they compete for the love of the Swann girl. Meanwhile, there have been rumours about how close you are to the Storm Princess. Makes me wonder, are we competitors?”
Drent bit down on his lower lip, as the man's unsettling stare seemed to look right at his deepest thoughts. “But that's not even it. Princess Argella is a beautiful woman, I get it, I honestly understand why you'd want to single me out in combat. Would I feel a thing for her, I'd probably do the same”, Warrick admitted. “But that does not explain the rest of what happened during the tourney. Jonathan, one of the best archers I know, defeated by a girl. That she even participated must have had a reason. Bernard just so happens to have the misfortune of facing Emphryus Dresfel in the first round of the joust. And I am singled out in combat by a man with known feelings for Princess Argella”
“What do you mean to say with that?”, Drent asked, slightly narrowing his eyes, but there was no anger. So close and without a weapon to defend himself, he was intimidated by Warrick Fell. Though the man showed no hint of anger, there was an aura of menace about him, perhaps originating from these unsettling eyes of his. “I think you know exactly what I mean”, he replied. “I think none of that was an accident, but I want to hear it from you. I want to hear the truth” And now, Drent noticed that the man's fists were clenched. “Did she, or did she not, order the three of you to do that? To humiliate me and my friends during the tourney?”
[Admit the truth]
Kersea
On a surface level, Oldtown had barely changed since she'd last been there. It had been months and back then, the city had been torn with violence, split between the Burned Man and Butterfly. Things weren't much better now, at least at first glance. There was still a rotten aura all around it, a palpable menace. This was no place she'd want to raise a child in. The thought that her sister had been trapped in here for years, it still broke her heart.
But there was something else. Something she only slowly realized, after she and Leonard had passed the northern gates. The chaos they had left was still there, but the Burned Man and Butterfly were no more. It was merely the beginning of a new age for Oldtown and in the faces of those they passed, she saw something she hadn't seen before. Hope.
Leonard however seemed worse than ever. Returning to Oldtown, a place so heavily connected to Butterfly, to Clayton, it hadn't been easy for Kersea, but he, he took it worse than her. Never one to be particularly chatty, she noticed that he was even more quiet than usual. His face was a mask, expressing outward calmness, yet she knew that wasn't even remotely true.
“What's going through your mind?”, she asked and Leonard frowned, now openly. “I keep thinking how I'd rather be anywhere but here”, he admitted. She gave him a nod. “Tell me all about it”, she replied sarcastically and he rolled his eyes. “There's nowhere I want to be more than with my sister”
He nodded at that. “I'd rather be in Raylansfair, wrapping my hands around Mullendore's throat”, he told her. “Instead I'm here, stuck with you” She sighed. “And yet you don't want me to leave”, she spoke, to which he gulped. “If you'd try, I'd be the first to put a sword through your back”, he promised her, though there was no threat in his words. He was simply stating the obvious and somehow, this made his contempt all the worse. “Look, I don't hate you, not anymore I guess, but make no mistake. The reason you're here is to redeem yourself. Willing or not, you did an awful lot to help Mullendore”
“I know”, Kersea replied thinly. “And trust me, I won't leave. Even if you'd send me away I wouldn't do it. I want to look in the mirror without hating the person I see” This caused Leonard to raise an eyebrow. “And I can actually respect that”, he admitted. “I just want you to know where we're standing” He shrugged. “Though I appreciate the help against Drake. Keep it up and you might get out of this alive”
She raised an eyebrow. “How utterly merciful of you”, she said, forcing a smile and an uncomfortable silence followed. Thankfully, it only lasted for a moment, before a heavy hand landed on her shoulder. Pulling her and Leonard into a hug from behind, Magnus Silverstone had approached them.
Over the past week of travelling, the man had remained a mystery for Kersea. He was a liar that much was clear to her. Spending a lifetime in the presence of liars made it easy to spot them. Claiming to hail from Dorne, his accent was impeccable, yet she knew it was unlikely to be the truth. So, Essos, perhaps to the far east, farther than Kersea had ever been.
Leonard shot him a glare, but the man replied with a charming smile. “Ah, my friends, why the long faces?”, he asked. “It is a beautiful day, in a city of opportunity!” Kersea managed a smirk. “We're not here for opportunity”, she replied and he nodded. “Ah, of course”, he agreed. “Your mysterious quest. I suppose you are still as tight-lipped as ever about it, yes?”
“You bet”, Leonard replied in her case. “And trust me, it'll be for the better. If you'd know, you'd be in danger” Magnus gave him a wide smile. “Or perhaps I could help”, he offered, causing Leonard and Kersea to share a look of disbelief. She subtly shook her head and Leonard cracked a thin smirk at her reaction. “How could you?”, he asked. “You got any contacts in Oldtown?”
Magnus' nod was enthusiastic, but Kersea was wary about telling him more than necessary. She and Leonard had quickly come to a silent agreement when it came to their travelling companions. Their destination was the same, but their goals were utterly different. In fact, she had still no idea what Magnus even wanted in Oldtown, for his stories contradicted themselves more often than not.
“Oh, the city loves me!”, he claimed, glancing at the crowd they were passing. “Isn't that right, my friend?”, he yelled towards a passer-by. The man raised an eyebrow briefly, but headed his own way without stopping. “Fuck off, nutjob”, he merely growled in return and Magnus gulped. “A tough love, I see”, Leonard replied, his voice oozing sarcasm.
“Well, perhaps they have forgotten”, Magnus admitted. “But the Citadel hasn't. Do you, by any chance need to go there?” Kersea narrowed her eyes. “And why would you want to help us?”, she asked, to which he winked at her. “It is simple, fair lady”, he replied. “I hate being in debt to someone. Magnus Silverstone is a free man, more than anything else. You saved my life and Bennett's too. So, is it that hard to believe that I want to repay you in kind?”
“Given the sort I had to deal with for years, you'd be surprised”, she told him, but to her surprise, Leonard put an arm around the man's shoulder. “You have contacts to the Citadel?”, he asked. Sensing an opportunity, Magnus lit up. “Well, it's no Archmaester, but there's several who owe me a favour. Alchemists and the like, who in return have contacts that go beyond what you'd expect from the Citadel”
Once more, Leonard glanced at Kersea. “Could be useful”, he admitted. “And we might indeed need your help. The Citadel is one goal of ours” Thankfully, Magnus used this opportunity to remove his grip around their shoulders and Kersea stretched her back. “Splendid!”, he exclaimed. “Ah, I can see just how we're going to help each other. Shall we head there right away?”
This time, Leonard shook his head. “First, Kersea and I gotta take care of something else”, he told him. “Why don't you go there first and we meet up with you in a bit?” Magnus' smile faded slightly, but he still kept it up. “Why, that would be a splendid idea”, he admitted. “Me and Bennett, we have to meet up with an old friend of mine either way. So, does it mean we part ways for now?”
“For now”, Leonard agreed, before he stopped. Shaking hands with Magnus, he patted him on the shoulder. “But we'll meet up again. Perhaps later this evening?” Magnus nodded. “We'll be at the Citadel”, he replied, before he placed a hand on Bennett's shoulder. The boy gave Kersea and Leonard a nod, before both turned around, walking down the main street.
Kersea sighed, as she looked after them. “You know we cannot trust him, right?”, she asked and Leonard nodded grimly. “But it gets them off our trail for now. Seems like an easy way to buy us time until we decide what to do about him”, he told her. “I don't know what he wants, if he even means ill at all, but I figured we gotta get rid of him for now if we want to visit your friend”
“He's not my friend”, Kersea reminded him. “I never even met the man, to be honest, but I know where to find him” Leonard shrugged. “Means the same to me. We can't have Magnus knowing where that guy lives. If we are to stay here for longer, we must have a place to stay in secret. Can he help us with that?”
She nodded. “Probably”, she replied, as she took the lead. It had been years, but even before getting to know her better, Alysanne's presence had the occasional benefit. And she had told her where to find acquaintances, contacts in major cities, people who might one day be able to help her. “So, what can you tell me about him?”, Leonard asked.
“His name's Vitihho”, she began to explain, as she led Leonard off the main street. “He's a merchant, at least that's what Alysanne claims. Used to be a sellsword, the kind that deals with... well, with people like me” Leonard frowned. “I already don't like him”, he complained and she smirked. “Alysanne once called him a friend, but I know she meant acquaintance”, she continued. “He settled down here in Oldtown half a decade ago. No more sellsword work for him, but he kept the contacts”
“What, did he develop a conscience?”, Leonard asked and she shook her head. “He started to get old”, she replied. “Must be in his forties by now. In my world, that's where you either stop or you die” She shrugged. “But I don't know the man. Might have been a conscience thing after all. It takes a special person to work with Clayton for so long without being abhorred by him”
“Takes a special person to settle in Oldtown, for crying out loud”, Leonard brought up. “You can't tell me he picked up honest work in here” To this, she shook her head. “As I said, he kept the contacts. Black market deals, unsavoury clients. According to Alysanne, Vitihho is the sort of man who can get you anything for the right price”
With this, she tilted her head, as they entered another alleyway. “What's the deal with you and this city either way?”, she asked. “I don't like it either, but I've been to worse places” To her surprise, Leonard raised an eyebrow. “Then you have my condolences”, he said wholeheartedly. “Nobody deserves a place worse than Oldtown” She noticed that his fists were clenched. “But nah, I don't want to talk about it, if that's what you mean. Brings back bad memories, that's all”
It wasn't all and she knew it. However, if there was one thing she had learned about Leonard Constantine in the past months, it was to respect his privacy. After a while of silence, the knight spoke up again. “And you never met the man?”, he asked. Kersea shook her head. “I stood guard once, outside, while Alysanne had a talk with him”, she replied. There was one aspect she kept silent from him and it was just what Alysanne had been doing at Vitihho's place. She had her doubts Leonard would appreciate a man so freely selling poison to someone as unstable as Alysanne.
“So, we have no idea if he's going to help us?”, the knight asked. To this, Kersea smirked slightly. “He never asks questions. Always been there for people like me, at least that's what Alysanne said. He owed her a couple favours, apparently”, she replied, but talking about her friend left her unable to keep up the smile for long. “So yeah, he will help us”
By now, they had left the busy part of Oldtown. Tanner's Alley was a bad place even for this city. Once firmly in Butterfly's territory, it had taken his absence particularly hard. Her skilled glance quickly revealed to her that half of the buildings stood empty. Of course, it had never been any pleasant, but seeing these houses as nothing but abandoned shells, it was hard to watch.
“We're there”, she just said, as she quickly approached a wooden gate. Opening it, she revealed a small backyard, with a single door leading into the building itself. Narrow windows allowed anyone inside a good view of the new visitors, while she herself was unable to see anything in there. It was the place that instinctively caused her to tense up and she noticed how Leonard's hand was clenched heavily around his sword. “Keep that sheathed if you don't want any trouble”, she warned him and he followed her advice for once. After a moment of hesitation, she knocked at the door.
At first, nothing happened. Leonard took a step back and Kersea narrowed her eyes. “Perhaps he isn't...”, the knight said, as footsteps sounded from the other side. The door got opened, just a tiny bit, before being pushed open a bit farther, revealing the man behind.
He was tall, taller than Leonard even, with the build of a seasoned warrior and skin a shade of dark bronze. While numerous wrinkles on his face hinted at his true age, his dark brown hair showed no sign of grey. Part of it was tied into a loose knot, though some strands fell down onto his shoulders. A short beard covered his flat chin and his dark eyes were narrowed. His impressive upper body was covered merely by a vest, leaving his massive, hairy arms uncovered, though Kersea's nervousness grew as she realized she was only able to see one of his hands, the other hidden behind the door, probably holding a weapon of sorts.
“Who the fuck are you?”, he growled in a deep voice. Unlike Magnus, he did not bother to hide his accent, even if his common tongue was flawless. Kersea gulped, before she shot him a smile. “My name is Kersea, this is Leonard”, she revealed. “We're here to talk to Vitihho. Have we come to the right place?” The man narrowed his eyes, spitting onto the ground in front of her. “Who told you that name?”, he asked.
Briefly, she closed her eyes. “I am a friend of Alysanne”, she told him. “Alysanne Waters, you do remember...” He cut her off. “Alysanne has no friends”, he stated in a gruff voice. “Means you have come to the wrong place” Before she was able to say anything else, he had closed the door once more.
A moment of silence passed, as Kersea blinked, staring at the closed door in front of her. Then laughter cut through the afternoon air. She threw a glare over her shoulder, where Leonard was chuckling wildly. “You have come to the wrong place”, he repeated, mocking the man's accent. “Oh, this was beautiful! Do it again, embarrass yourself!”
She groaned in frustration, as she shook her head. “Stop laughing!”, she demanded and he continued to giggle slightly. “Yeah, you're telling me again how that guy is going to help us?”, he replied. “Just what I expected from someone dealing with your lot” Her glare grew more furious, as she shook her head. “Just shut up and listen”, she spat.
To her surprise, he actually did just that, giving her a nod to continue. “It's something Alysanne just said”, she explained. “Vitihho's the secretive kind. Guess that's to be expected in his line of work, but he won't just order us in like that” She shrugged. “I expected that”, she lied and Leonard raised an eyebrow. “So, you mean he's testing us?”, he asked.
“Yeah, kind of”, Kersea confirmed and the knight smirked. “So what, you just intend to knock on his door until he gets tired and hears you out?”, he asked. “That'd show your determination” Before she could throw him an angry glare, she realized he was only half joking. Admittedly, it would show determination and all she needed was five quiet minutes with the man to tell him what happened to Alysanne, to hopefully win his support.
“I considered sneaking in”, she told him. “Buildings like that, they always have a second way in” To this, Leonard shook his head. “Way too dangerous”, he protested. “That man's armed, probably ready for violence. What do you think he'll do if he finds you sneaking around?”
“Hopefully, he'll invite me for a chat”, she told him, though she had to admit, her plan didn't sound too solid either, upon closer consideration. But what choice did she have? If Vitihho was unwilling to listen, forcing him to do just that sounded like the only option. She just knew, she was not willing to give up. They needed help here in Oldtown, a solid place to stay and the resources that came with a man of his profession.
[Knock again]