Aldric wanted to grab the arrogant young lord by the collar and scream: "You know nothing! I am a mercenary, not a butcher! I sell my sword, not my conscience! I had a month-to-month contract with Robb Stark, and I didn't even ask for the last payment! Westermen are people too!"
But he held his tongue. Arguing with Marq Piper would only lead to a pointless pissing contest. Their paths were different; there was no need to force them together.
Aldric shrugged. "You came here to fight Lannisters, not to debate the honor of the King in the North. Let's focus on the task at hand. How do we kill these lions?"
Marq Piper sneered. "Harwin and I agreed to duel for command. The winner leads."
"I agree to let Commander Aldric lead," Harwin interrupted, sheathing his sword. "I saw him put Sandor Clegane on his back in two moves at Winterfell. I don't think I'm better than the Hound."
Aldric blinked. Someone saw that?
"You know me?" Aldric asked.
Harwin nodded. "I was a guard for Lord Eddard Stark. I watched you fight the Hound in the training yard. You were the biggest upset of the day. I lost ten silver moons betting against you—my whole month's wage."
Aldric laughed, remembering Theon Greyjoy's secret betting pool. "Damn that squid. Theon didn't give me a single copper of the winnings. I should have robbed him blind in a dark alley."
"Hah!" Harwin grinned. "If you split the coin with me, I'll hold his legs."
The tension in the air evaporated. For two men who had lost their homes—Harwin, a fugitive of the Brotherhood, and Aldric, a wandering mercenary—the memory of Winterfell was a bittersweet dream of a simpler time.
Marq Piper frowned. He had missed the Battle of the Camps, stuck inside Riverrun. He only knew Aldric as "Robb Stark's magic healer." But now, seeing the Brotherhood align with the Golden Dawn, Piper realized he was outvoted. Combined, they had sixty cavalry to his twenty.
"If Harwin agrees, I have no objection," Piper said stiffly. "But this is a partnership. I expect to be consulted on strategy."
"Naturally," Aldric agreed. "A chain is only as strong as its weakest link. If we aren't united, we die."
He led the commanders to a tree stump and unrolled his map.
"My students and I scouted the route," Aldric said, tracing a line. "From Stoney Sept to the Blackwater. The best ambush point is here."
He marked an 'X' on a ridge near the Silverhill foothills.
"This is arguably Reach territory, but it's barren. The terrain rolls, good for horses. We split the cavalry into two groups. Archers take the high ground on the ridge. We rain death on their escort. If their archers fire back, we have the elevation advantage."
Aldric held up two fingers.
"Two scenarios. One: their cavalry breaks formation to chase us. Our horse archers retreat, drawing them away from the infantry. Then our lancers crush their foot soldiers. Two: they turtle up. In that case, we harass them with arrows until they bleed, then charge when they break."
"Why not just charge?" Karyl Vance asked, pointing at the map. "We have eighty horse. They have thirty. We can smash them in one blow."
"Karyl," Marq Piper sighed. "How many of your men can actually hold a lance in a formation charge? Twenty? The rest are just infantry on horses. Aldric is right. We play to our mobility."
"But what if they circle the wagons?" Piper asked Aldric. "Twenty-one heavy wagons make a solid fort. If they hole up, we can't crack them."
"Fire," Aldric said coldly. "If they turtle, we burn the wagons. We'll see how fireproof Lannister gold is."
Harwin winced. "That's a lot of supplies to burn. People could eat that grain."
"People can't eat if they're dead," Aldric countered. "I won't trade my men's lives for a sack of corn. We are here to hurt Tywin, not to grocery shop."
Harwin nodded slowly. "Fair enough. Burn it is."
"And the loot?" Marq Piper asked. "How do we split what survives?"
"I need weapons," Piper said.
"I need everything," Harwin said. "The Brotherhood has nothing."
"We split it in two rounds," Aldric proposed. "Two factions divide the loot into three piles based on need. The third faction gets first pick. Then the remaining two split the rest. Fair?"
The lords mulled it over. It was a classic "I cut, you choose" method. Fair and simple.
"Agreed," they said.
The meeting broke up at moonrise.
As Aldric headed to his tent, he saw Harwin lingering in the shadows.
"Commander," Harwin said. "I'm looking for Jon Snow. I know him."
Aldric nodded. Of course. Harwin was a Stark man.
"I'll send him to you."
Minutes later, Jon met Harwin by the riverbank. The water rushed over the stones, drowning out their voices.
"Jon," Harwin said, staring at the boy. "I thought I was seeing a ghost. I thought you went to the Wall with Benjen."
"I did," Jon said with a bitter smile. "I thought all of father's guard died in King's Landing."
Harwin spat. "Joffrey. That bastard."
Harwin recounted his journey—the tourney, the hunt for Robert's bastards, and finally, Lord Eddard sending him with Beric Dondarrion to hunt the Mountain.
"I never saw your father again," Harwin said softly. "If he hadn't been wounded by the Kingslayer... he would have led us. He might have died at the Mummer's Ford instead of Beric. Or maybe he would have won."
Jon closed his eyes. The pain was still fresh.
"Why aren't you at the Wall?" Harwin asked. "Are you a deserter?"
"I am a sworn brother," Jon said. "But I have a mission. My teacher... he taught me something."
Jon raised his hand.
Flash of Light.
A soft, warm glow illuminated the darkness.
"It's called a Flash of Light," Jon explained. "It heals wounds. My teacher says the battlefield makes everyone equal in death. He used to heal for coin. Now... he heals because he can."
Harwin stared at the light, stunned.
"If Thoros could do that..." Harwin whispered. "We wouldn't lose so many. Maybe... maybe your father wouldn't have died."
Jon shook his head. "My teacher says he can't bring back the dead. Only the living."
"Thoros brings back the dead," Harwin muttered. "Lord Beric... he's come back six times."
Jon frowned. "Six times?"
"Aye. But he loses a piece of himself each time." Harwin looked at Jon. "Can you teach others? Can the Brotherhood learn this?"
"My teacher grants a 'Seed of Light'," Jon said. "He gave it to ten men. Only five awakened it. You need faith in An'she. Does the Brotherhood know the Sun God?"
Harwin scratched his beard. "The Lord of Light, R'hllor... The Sun God, An'she... Are they not the same? Both are fire and light."
He sighed. Theology is for priests.
"When will you go back to the Wall?"
"I don't know," Jon said, staring at the river. "Not yet. I need to learn how to grant the Seed. There are a thousand brothers on the Wall. I can't be the only Sunwalker."
They talked late into the night, two remnants of Winterfell finding comfort in the dark, neither mentioning the King in the North they had both left behind.
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