The road to Pinkmaiden was a scar of mud through the forest, choked with the smell of rain and fear.
Ser Kent, a boy-knight barely twenty, rode at the head of the column. His armor was too shiny, his face too pale. He was terrified. Not of the enemy, but of his commander.
Gregor Clegane. The Mountain That Rides.
"Move!" Ser Kent shouted, his voice cracking. "Faster! Or I'll start killing the children!"
Behind him, a hundred peasants from Stone Bridge Village stumbled along. They were tied in ropes, exhausted, starving.
"My lord!" a man cried out, clutching a toddler to his chest. "Please! The little ones... they can't keep up. Just an hour to rest and eat!"
Ser Kent looked at the sun. If he was late, the Mountain would peel him like an apple.
He didn't speak. He just spurred his horse and drove his lance through the man's chest. The spearhead punched through the father and into the child, snapping with a sickening crack.
They fell together in the mud, silenced forever.
"Anyone else?" Ser Kent asked, tossing the broken lance aside.
The column went deathly silent. They marched faster.
Half an hour later, Aldric knelt by the bodies.
"Fresh," he murmured, rubbing the blood between his fingers. He looked at Naomi, the little girl riding behind Martha. "Do you know them?"
Naomi nodded, tears streaming down her soot-stained face. "Uncle Fred. And baby Jon."
Aldric stood up. His eyes were cold. "They aren't far. We take them in the woods."
He turned to his twelve disciples. "Five of you have the Light. You take point. The rest of you... stay alive. We fight to win, not to die."
Ser Kent was sweating. The forest felt heavy, watching him.
Thwip.
An arrow took his squire in the throat. Another bounced off Kent's breastplate.
"Ambush!" Kent screamed. "To me!"
He saw shadows moving in the trees. Not an army. Just a few men.
"Robert!" he yelled to his bannerman. "Take the riders! Run them down!"
Ten cavalrymen peeled off, charging into the green gloom.
It was exactly what Aldric wanted.
In the dense woods, horses were a liability. The Sunwalkers struck from the undergrowth—spears thrusting from bushes, arrows finding eye-slits.
Aldric met Ser Kent in a clearing. The boy-knight raised his sword, screaming a war cry that sounded more like a plea.
Aldric didn't even slow down. Judgment. A hammer of golden light smashed Kent's shield aside. Crusader Strike. The bronze sword took the boy's head in one clean swing.
Back on the road, the twenty Lannister infantrymen held the captives at swordpoint.
"Where is Ser Kent?" a sergeant shouted.
A horse trotted out of the woods. A bronze-armored rider sat in the saddle. He tossed something onto the road.
Ser Kent's head rolled to a stop at the sergeant's feet, eyes wide with surprise.
"Drop your weapons," Aldric said calmly. "Kneel and live."
"Fuck you!" the sergeant roared. "Kill them!"
The infantry charged.
But the riders didn't engage. They wheeled their horses and retreated, firing arrows over their shoulders.
Lannister crossbowmen fired back. Bolts struck home—one hitting Morse in the shoulder, another taking Terrance in the leg.
But the Sunwalkers didn't fall. They ripped the bolts out. Golden light flared, and the wounds knitted shut in seconds.
"Demons!" a soldier screamed. "They don't die!"
Panic broke the line. The infantry huddled together, shields raised, as the mounted archers circled them like wolves, picking them off one by one.
When only ten were left, Morse led the charge. The awakened Sunwalkers smashed into the shield wall with supernatural strength.
It was over in minutes.
Aldric walked among the captives. "You are free."
The villagers stared at him, too stunned to speak. Then, an older man knelt.
"My lord... who are you? So we may pray for you."
Aldric smiled. "I'm just a mercenary. Little Matt hired me."
"Matt?"
Martha stepped forward, leading the boy and his sister.
"Momma! Papa!" Matt screamed, running into the crowd.
A man and woman burst from the line of captives, falling to their knees to embrace their children. The dam broke. Sobbing, cheering, the villagers surrounded their saviors.
By the stream, Aldric cleaned his sword.
"Quartermaster," he called. "Report."
Jon approached, holding a ledger. "Seventeen mail shirts. Three hardened leather. Nine bows. Thirty weapons. And the wagon is full of food they stole."
"Good," Aldric said. "Re-arm the men. We keep the food."
He looked at Martha. "How does the power feel?"
"Strange," she admitted. "Like... warm water in my veins."
"You'll get used to it," Aldric said. "Take Beth. Heal the villagers. No charge."
"No charge?" Martha blinked. "But we're mercenaries."
"They have no money," Aldric said, looking at the reunited family. "And besides... Matt paid in full."
He tossed the two eggs in his hand.
"Two eggs," he chuckled. "Best deal I ever made."
He turned to look south. "Alright. We have the people. Now we need a base. And I know just the place."
"Harrenhal?" Jon guessed.
"Too big," Aldric shook his head. "For now... we take the Stone Bridge. If we hold the bridge, we hold the trade. And if we hold the trade... we can feed an army."