The tent went silent. The air grew heavy, suffocating.
Kevin, who had been with Aldric since the Red Pebble Village, felt his stomach drop. He knew his teacher. Aldric was calm, pragmatic, even cold. But cruelty to the helpless? That was the spark in the powder keg.
"What about the woman?" Aldric asked, his voice terribly quiet.
The soldier, mistaking the question for concern about his friend, scoffed. "Stupid bitch. We went into her house. Her man tried to stop us, so we gutted him. We were going to have some fun, maybe let her live a few days. But while we were... distracted... she bit down."
He didn't finish.
A sword, sharper than any steel had a right to be, punched through his throat.
"Commander?" the second soldier gasped, stepping back.
Aldric moved like a blur. Thrust. The second man gurgled and collapsed, clutching his neck.
The maimed man on the floor stared up in horror. He didn't understand why the healer was killing his friends, but he knew death when he saw it.
"Commander! I'm a Mormont man! My lady likes you! Mercy!"
Aldric knelt. He gently pried the severed head from the man's grip. He looked into the dead woman's eyes—still wide with terror and hate.
"Did she beg for mercy?" Aldric asked.
"She was a Westerman!" the soldier screamed. "A peasant! It's our right! We're fighting for the Starks!"
Aldric stood up. He didn't say another word. He brought his boot down on the man's neck with a wet crunch.
He wrapped the head in the dead soldier's cloak.
"Kevin," Aldric said, his voice flat. "Close the tent. Turn away the wounded. Tell them we are drained. Gather the men. Tell them what happened here. Wait for me."
"Teacher..." Kevin's teeth chattered. "What are you going to do?"
"I'm going to get an answer. Jon, with me."
Oxcross was burning.
Jon rode beside his teacher, his heart heavy. He had expected a liberated town. Instead, he saw a slaughterhouse.
Doors were smashed open. Blood flowed into the gutters. Bodies of farmers and shopkeepers lay in the mud. Northern soldiers—men who had marched under the banner of the Direwolf, men Jon had thought were heroes—stumbled through the streets, drunk on wine and violence, their pockets bulging with stolen gold.
They laughed as they passed corpses. They bragged about the women they had "found."
It was Red Pebble Village all over again. The flag had changed, but the beast underneath was the same.
They found Robb in the town's largest manor, the home of the local knight.
"Commander Aldric," the guard at the door grinned. "Looking for the King?"
Aldric tossed him a silver stag. "Announce me."
Inside, a woman with a swollen face was scrubbing blood from the floor while soldiers stepped around her. Aldric walked past her into the solar.
Robb Stark sat in a high-backed chair, looking exhausted but triumphant.
"Commander," Robb said. "What is it?"
"Your Grace," Aldric said, placing the bloody bundle on the desk. "I just rode through the town. Your men are raping and murdering civilians. I ask you to order a stop to it. Now."
Robb stood up, his eyes narrowing. "Are you speaking as a mercenary, or as a priest?"
"I speak as a man who thought he was fighting for justice," Aldric replied. "There is no justice in this."
"Do you know what the West did to the Riverlands?" Robb snapped, his voice rising. "They burned entire holdfasts! They tortured women! This... this is war, Aldric. My men have marched hundreds of miles. They have bled. They deserve a reward. A little looting is the price of loyalty."
"Is rape the price of loyalty?" Aldric unwrapped the cloak.
The severed head stared up at the Young Wolf. The bloody trophy was still clenched in its teeth.
"Her husband was murdered. She was raped. She fought back and was beheaded. By your men. Tell me, Your Grace... how are you different from Tywin Lannister?"
Robb recoiled. He stared at the head, then at Aldric. His hand went to his sword.
"You dare?" Robb whispered. "Guards!"
The door burst open. Swords were drawn.
Jon stepped forward, grabbing his brother's arm. "Robb! Don't!"
Robb looked at Jon, then at the head on his desk. He took a shuddering breath. He sheathed his sword.
"Get out," Robb said coldly. "Get out of my sight, Aldric. Don't let me see you again."
"With pleasure," Aldric said.
He turned and walked out.
"Is he mad?" Robb asked Jon as the door closed. "To question a king over a few peasants?"
"He hates injustice, Robb," Jon said quietly. "Did you... did you order this?"
Robb sank back into his chair. "I didn't order it. I just... didn't stop it. I can't be everywhere, Jon. If I stop them from taking spoils, they'll desert. I need them to win."
"Win what?" Jon asked. "If we become them... what do we win?"
"Go," Robb said, waving a hand. "Just go."
Back at the camp, the Silver Hand was assembled.
"Pack up," Aldric told Kevin.
"What happened?" Conrad asked, holding Aldric's horse.
"The Northmen are sacking the town," Aldric said. "And the King condones it."
"Damn it!" Conrad spat. "They get the loot and we get stuck out here?"
Eddie nodded. "It's the rules, Conrad. Mercs get the scraps after the lords eat. If we go in now, we get hanged."
Aldric looked at his lieutenants. A cold realization washed over him.
"You want to go in there?" Aldric asked. "You want to join the looting?"
"That's why we're here, boss," Eddie shrugged. "Gold. War is business. Why else risk our necks?"
Aldric laughed. It was a dry, bitter sound. "I thought... I thought we were building something different. My mistake."
He stood before his men.
"I am leaving the Northern Army," Aldric announced. "I will not serve a cause that butchers the innocent. I am walking away. Who comes with me?"
Silence.
"Eddie?" Aldric asked.
"Boss," Eddie said unapologetically. "I like you. But I like gold more. I'm staying."
"Conrad?"
"I was at the Sack of King's Landing," Conrad said. "This is nothing new. I stay."
"Vitali? Philbert?"
"We're sellswords, Commander," Vitali said. "We sell swords. We don't sell morals."
One by one, the men he had trained, the men he had fought beside, turned away. They chose the coin. They chose the looting.
Aldric felt a hollowness in his chest.
"I'll go."
It was Morse, the spearman from the Free Folk. "You saved my life. You treated me fair. I don't care about their war. I follow you."
"Me too," said Terrance, the archer.
"And me," said Martha, the head nurse.
Lennar, the bard, stepped forward. "I'm a Westerman. I won't help them burn my home. I'm with you, Aldric."
In the end, eleven people stood by him. Eleven out of sixty.
Aldric looked at them. The hollowness faded, replaced by a small, fierce warmth. Quality over quantity.
He looked at Jon Snow.
"Jon," Aldric said softly. "Your brother needs you. Your house needs you. I won't ask you to choose."
Jon looked torn. "Teacher..."
Aldric didn't wait. He mounted Blitz. Kevin and the eleven loyalists mounted up behind him. Without a backward glance, they rode out of the camp, heading for the Goldroad.
As the hoofbeats faded, Eddie turned to the remaining men. "Alright, back to business. Jon, you can still do the light stuff, right? Aldric was charging too little. If we double the prices, we can make a fortune..."
Jon looked at Eddie. He looked at the greedy gleam in the mercenary's eyes. He looked at the smoke rising from Oxcross.
"Who said I was staying?" Jon said.
He spurred his horse, galloping into the dark, chasing the only light he had left.
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