A Game of Thrones - Winter Chills | AGameOfThrones-WinterChills / The Kingsroad browse

They called it the Kingsroad, though the locals had differing opinions on which king the road actually referred to. Many said that it belonged to the king in King's Landing, Robert Baratheon, and this was his road to the riches of the riverlands, the Vale of Arryn, and the forbidding North. Others insisted that the road was older - a Stark road, when the Starks were kings in the North, and that this was the summerlander road that they held against the encroaching Andals. And a few claimed that the King referred to was the Dragonking, Aegon Targaryen, the Conqueror, and that this was the road his army took when they came to claim the North, last of the Seven Kingdoms. Romantic as that idea might be, it was almost certainly false, unfortunately, since Aegon the Conqueror had not come north with any army. Rather, Torrhen Stark had knelt without the need for a show of force, knowing that if Aegon's army came, it would not be by the Kingsroad. Dragons need no road to go where they please.

Men do, however, and Evan found himself glad that King's Landing had seen fit to keep this road one of the best maintained in Westeros. They were nearly to the Neck now, leaving the Green Fork far behind, and a haze of low, scrubby trees could be seen in the distance, heralding the start of the marshland that surrounded Moat Cailin and the crannoglands. The grasses here were stiff, hardy varieties, waving in the salty breeze that swelled up from the Neck to the east, and clinging stubbornly to the pebbly soil. Atop one of the low rises to either side of the road, two crannogmen looked up from a hare they had just brought down, looking for all the world like savages in their fur-limned clothing and feathered hair. For a moment, Evan felt transported back in time, as if this was a sight the first Andals might have seen when they first rode north, and though the crannogmen did not look hostile, they had a curious look, as if wondering why metal-clad men of the south might want to come where they did not belong. Their eyes tracked the riders impassively, never leaving them till Evan and the mercenaries had vanished around the next corner.

"Wonderful," Donnell grumbled from the horse just behind Evan's. "Not even in the North yet and we're already going to be jumped by barbarians." He hawked and spat in the ditch by the roadside. "Lord Lackshield doesn't have the money for this."

"You were heading north already," Kenrith replied dryly. He wasn't altogether happy with their nickname for him, but he had certainly heard worse... some of it directed by one member of Evan's little band against another. "If they do attack... you can give thanks you aren't doing it for free," he continued.

"They didn't look like they were going to attack," Garyn said, though he sounded uncertain, and twisted in the saddle to look back, even though the crannogmen were long out of sight. "Maybe they're peaceful."

Jayne leaned off to one side and spat in reply, while Mal replied "They ain't peaceful, but they ain't stupid neither... so longs as they don't have twice our number up behind that hill yonder, they won't be giving us no trouble"

Donnell, as usual, was not convinced. "North's full of savages," he muttered darkly.

A corner of Evan's lips quirked in a smile. "True enough," he murmured.

"You aren't in the North just yet," Kenrith said under his breath. Meanwhile, Jayne had dismounted and handed his reins to Mal so that he could circle around on foot to see whether there indeed were a score of craggomen around the next hill.

There were not - just empty, windswept moorlands, dotted by an occasional rocky croft or copse of woods. The Neck was one of the bleakest parts of Westeros, lashed by the constant winds of the sea from both sides, and even now, in summer, heavy clouds scudded across the horizon, driven by the ocean winds.

Stavro had reined in at the crest of the next hill, his hood already pulled up against the cold. It was not yet cold by any standards, but the winds of the Neck were harsh, and the Pentoshi was used to warmer climes, his bald head not suited to the conditions. "I am thinking we will be in the marsh before dark," he said, to no one in particular.

"And at the road to the Grey Watchers within the week," Evan added. "Will you be wanting to stop there, ser?"

"I think we will all be happy to sleep in a bed once we get there... marshes are not my sort of place, and horses don't favor them much either. A short stay. It would be best to not overstay our welcome... the Reeds are an old and just family, but not a wealthy one," Kenrith replied.

~And one with no knights~, he thought to himself introspectively. He also wondered, quietly, whether the Greywater Watch would be where they expected to find it. It certainly wouldn't be in the same spot as when he had come south, he reasoned. He wanted to ask Stavros to find someplace out of the wind to camp, but if he could he would... and if he couldn't, there was no sense in arguing about it.

Stavro lowered his head and moved off down the road, to the point position. Behind, the rest of the men fell into a loose, easy string of riders - there was nothing in the way of cover on the moorlands, and no threat to be seen save a few scrawny sheep.

As the riders spaced out, Evan held his horse back till he was alongside Ser Kenrith, riding abreast for a short time in silence. A little banter from Ox drifted back to them on the wind, but other than that there was no sound on the empty moor until Evan finally spoke. "A long time since you've been home, ser?"

"I was supposed to make a trip back a few years ago, but the caravan I was to travel along with ran out of coin before it ever reached Riverrun. I've written letters as I could, to my brother Godwyn especially, but I've not been back since I was sent away... I'm still not sure of the subtext to my departure. It may be that they intended for me to travel to the wall instead of my brother, and that he has been groomed to take my place in my absence... I suppose I could live with that," Kenrith said with a note of melancholy.

Evan nodded, his expression thoughtful, as it almost always was. "It's a rare elder son who would be so willing to give up his birthright for a short life on the Wall," he mused. "And your family - have they written back to you?"

"My brother has written at least as often as I, my cousin and father as well... although my father's health has suffered. I am not eager to give up my birthright, as you say, but would be willing to see it pass to my brother if that is what is best for the house. As I said, that is but one guess as to... some details I was not made privy to... might be," Kenrith said even as he quietly wondered what Godwyn's temperment might be after so many years apart. Although he had mentioned the possibility his father was training him to rule, he feared from the letters he had received... and what they did -not- say... that Godwyn had been forgotten again.

Ahead, Garyn's horse stumbled on a loose cobble, and broke into a sudden run as it startled. The animal slowed almost immediately, but the jolt had jerked Garyn back in the saddle, and his sword, unfastened in the sheath, slipped out and fell noisily to the road. Garyn reached back for it, and the horse started again at the shift of weight on its back, twisting him even more in the saddle until he was dumped unceremoniously to the ground.

He was unhurt, except for his pride, and his face burned red as he retrieved the sword and the horse. Donnell chuckled nastily, and Ox simply glared. "You said to keep weapons ready," Garyn muttered.

Jayne snickered until Mal leaned over and quietly threatened to tell a story of his own folly, which quickly silenced the gruff man. Kenrith manuvered his horse somewhat closer, so that he could more clearly view Garyn's equipment.

"It looks as though your scabbard has worn loose," he said as he demonstrated how his own would hold the blade in place after he drew it out only a few inches. "If you tie cord tight around the top there, it should hold up until you can get a tanner to rivet on a fresh bit of hide. No sense in it rattling around..." Kenrith said in a tone which was instructive, but not meant to place himself on a pedestal. He had certainly not learned this manner of speech from Ser Grell, but he had received lessons in ettiquette as well as the crafts of war.

Garyn flushed an even brighter red, and found it hard to meet Kenrith's eyes. "Er, thank you, ser," he mumbled. "Won't let it happen again." He remounted clumsily and headed off quickly down the road, head lowered.

Kenrith slowed his horse and allowed Evan to draw alongside again, which he did with his eyes still on Garyn's retreating back. "He won't survive the Wall," Evan said softly, as if to no one in particular. "He might not even survive to get there."

"They say the Wall can change a man... it may be that he will become more than he is... but no one ever survives the Wall," Kenrith replied.

"No indeed," Evan agreed. He paused for a moment, turning thoughts over in his head, before continuing, all the while still staring down the road. "Garyn wanted to be a knight when he took up his sword," he said. "Filled with ideas of bright armour and pennons - apparently his father sold him some foolishness about changing his stars or something like that. But common boys do not become knights just for the wanting, so he decided to take up arms to learn the trade from the ground up. So far, he seems to have taken to the life of a warrior like a duck to burning pitch. That is to say, with a lot of squawking and chaos. But he can be stubborn, too, and will not be dissuaded in his earnestness." Evan shrugged. "At least he knows what he wants to be and strives for it. More than can be said for most men twice as competent."

There was a low whistle from someowhere near the side of the road - the call of a marshbird perhaps. And perhaps it was another marshbird who answered, a pattern of long liquid notes, somewhere ahead and to the right.

Overhead, the sky was growing grey.

"They say the crannogmen can turn into all manner of marsh creatures... I don't believe it, but they do know much of nature... certainly they can make bird calls. Our best bet may be to explain what we're about if they confront us, that we're heading to the Greywatch. On the other hand, I may be darting at shadows... What do you think?" Kenrith asked.

Evan looked up at the sky, then at the scrubby treeline approaching, and a muscle in his cheek twitched. "If the crannogmen choose to attack, you really will be darting at shadows," he said. "But they will not. This is the Kingsroad, not some secret trail in the marsh. And those who wish Greywater Watch ill do not ride up as we do, openly displaying their arms." He nodded to the Hardy arms on Kenrith's clothing and gear, and half his mouth twisted in a rueful smile. "Unless, of course, they have some reason to hate your House."

"We've both been loyal to the Starks since Winterfell was newly built," Kenrith said as he shook his head. Winterfell was ancient, and Kenrith might have been exaggerating... but then again, he might not be.

A sudden wind lifted the marsh grasses, and the bird cried out again, more urgently. Suddenly, ahead of them, Garryn's horse reared, and he landed unceremoniously in the dust of the road. But it seemed that this time he had a reason, for standing some five yeards in front of him were two small figures, who had appeared as suddenly as if they had risen up out of the road itself. They were dressed in dark green and brother leather, the colour of the marshes, and one held a spear and buckler, while the other held a net and a long knife. But they did not hold them threateningly, and they regarded the travellers calmly, almost passively.

Their brown hair and small stature suggested they were Crannogmen - although the one who held the net was a woman, and, like the man beside her, young - perhaps no more than sixteen or seventeen years old.

They made no move to help Garyn of calm his startled horse, but simply waited for the others to approach.

Kenrith dismounted as well, wishing to approach the craggomen on something closer to equal footing. He didn't know whether they'd ever seen a horse before, but even if they had they wouldn't be eager to look up to riders.

"A good evening to you both," Kenrith said with his right hand open at his side. "I am Kenrith Hardy," he said as he remembered that the craggomen had no knights. The title was his to use or not, as he pleased, and he did not feel he was deceiving them by aluding to his nobility with out including his knightly title. "How do you fare?" he asked.

The man smiled, while the woman's face remained still, watchful.

"Better than you will fare, Northerner, if you ride the roads for an hour more," she said. "A storm is coming ... but you are welcome to our home, if you will leave your weapons with one of your number. Even he shall have shelter."

"Daggers you may keep," added the man. "For you must eat, after all."

The woman didn't look particyularly pleased by the concession. Small she might be, but there was a certain pride in her stance, and a beauty in the strange freen eyes that looked at them in turn, her eyes lingering over Kenrith ... and then Evan.

Kenrith first examined the couple, or perhaps he should say pair, then to the horizon, then finally he looked to Evan. He seemed willing to accept their offer, unable to determine if a storm was genuinely brewing, and interested in Evan's opinion as well.

Evan nudged his horse forward to stand before the small crannogmen, feeling the girl's green eyes burning into him. He studiously avoided her gaze, trying not to shift uncomfortably in the saddle. "Your hospitality is most generous, and gratefully accepted. I will be responsible for our weapons and our conduct." He nodded curtly, and Stavro came forward first, slinging his sword and bow over the back of Evan's horse. The rest soon followed, and Evan kept his eyes steadily on the crannogman, unwilling to meet the girl's eyes.

The crannogmen waited until all of them had handed their weapons to Evan. There was a curious watchfulness in their stance, as though standing very still for very long periods of time was familiar to them. But their eyes moved constantly, darting here and there, taking in everything that could be seen.

Kenrith handed over his bastard sword, and helped collect Jayne and Mal's weapons. At one point he coughed, causing Jayne to 'remember' the short sword which was perhaps ill concealed in the corner of his saddlebags. If there was an unusual degree of grumbling during the process, it at least did not escalate to a rebellion loud enough to be overheard.

When all was said and done, it was clear the small band had been hauling quite a few more weapons than Kenrith would have guessed.

"Come," said the woman, and she moved forward, gesturing to Kenrith and his escorts to follow her. The man waited ntil they had moved away along a track into the marsh, and then smiled up at Evan.

"I shall show you where you can store your weapons. We will guard them together."

He started off, taking another track away from the road. As he moved into the marcsh he paused, looking back over his shoulder. "I knew you would come. That is why you must take the crow road."

Kings Road Evan ?

Kings Road Kenrith ?

Categories: WinterChillsGameLogs