John stared at the two battered carts laden with grain and dented mail. Behind them, a few bleating sheep and caged chickens trailed in the dust. Next to the wagons stood a cluster of trembling girls, huddled together like rabbits in a storm.
John rubbed his temples, letting out a long, weary sigh. "So... you brought them all back?"
The young man, a Sunwalker named Carlton, nodded as if it were the most natural thing in the world. "Aye. Kevin told me that if I delivered them to you, you'd know what to do."
John pointed to the woman sitting on the corner of the lead cart, clutching a bundle of dry straw and humming a low, fractured lullaby. "And her? Who is she?"
Carlton's brow furrowed. "The Lady Fisher. No one knows her family name, so we call her by the keep's name. We found her in the pits beneath the blockhouse. Amory Lorch's men had her caged like a dog. She was starving, John. Her son... a boy of six or seven... he'd been dead in the cell with her for days. The stench was enough to turn a man's stomach."
Another tragedy to add to the pile. John traced the seven-pointed star across his chest. "May Anshe cradle her spirit," he whispered.
"The keep is a graveyard now," Carlton continued. "Rats and corpses. It's got no walls left to speak of, and the Brotherhood doesn't stay in one place. Bringing them to Beric's camp would have been a death sentence if Tywin's outriders caught the scent. Kevin said you'd find a place for them. He said Brother John never turns away a soul."
John grimaced. "Kevin is getting far too good at finding work for me. But," he looked at the frightened girls, "I suppose I'd rather have this trouble than none at all."
He beckoned to a passing acolyte. "Eric! Find Mother Frannie. Tell her to bring a few of the sisters. We have new kin to look after."
John stepped toward the girls, his voice dropping to a gentle, reassurring tone. "Peace, little ones. You're safe within these walls. From this day, the Sun and the Seven shield you. No one will lay a hand on you here."
One of the girls looked up, her eyes wide with fear. "Septon... I don't want to be a Silent Sister. I don't want to lose my tongue."
John blinked, then offered a small, sad laugh, gesturing to the farmers and laborers in the yard. "Do not fear, child. These are common folk. You need not take the vows to live here. But if the gods call to you one day, you come find me. Until then, you are just a daughter of the monastery."
The girls' shoulders visibly relaxed, and a few tentative smiles broke through the grime on their faces. John performed a brief Sun-Mend to clear the worst of their bruises. Mother Frannie soon arrived, leading the girls into the main blockhouse to find them clean wool and warm beds.
As the carts were hauled away for unloading, John turned back to Carlton. "And your brothers? Why aren't they inside resting their legs?"
"No time," Carlton said. "They're waiting at the gate. I have to leave as soon as I hand over the manifest. Word is there's a band of raiders at Deepwater near House Paege's lands. We don't know whose banner they fly, but we need to see. Every day we linger is another village put to the torch."
House Paege was sworn to Riverrun, far to the northwest. It was a journey of several days.
John nodded. "Go, then. But stop by the kitchens. Take a sack of boiled potatoes for the road. If the master of the stores grumbles, tell him I ordered it."
"You have enough to spare?" Carlton asked, leaning on his spear. "I remember the grain wagons were nearly empty when the Lightbringer left."
"We manage," John replied. "I've had the men glean every field within two leagues. The fishing parties are bringing in fat trout from the lake. And we've turned the new furrows to potatoes and pumpkins. Potatoes hide in the dirt where the Lannister fires can't reach them. Pumpkins grow low; even if a horse tramples them, they can still feed a pig. They grow fast and fill the belly. We'll be planting more by the moon's turn."
Carlton held up a hand, laughing. "Save the sermon for the Lightbringer, John. I just kill the monsters; I don't grow the mash." He turned to leave, then stopped. "May the Sun and the Seven watch over you."
"And you, brother," John called after him. "Keep an eye out for the black stone that burns. The Master said it's the key to the deep fires."
Carlton waved without looking back and disappeared toward the gates. Soon, the sound of galloping hooves signaled his departure.
Carlton was one of the ten who had left with Kevin, a lad whose hatred for cruelty was as bright as his smile. John felt a pang of loneliness. It wasn't just Carlton; there was a bond between all Sunwalkers—a shared resonance of the spirit that Aldric called being "Kindred Spirits." When they gathered, the very air seemed lighter.
With the Conclave over, the movement had scattered. The High Sparrow, Kevin, and Aldric had each taken a portion of the fire with them. John was left with a dozen Sunwalkers and the daunting task of governing the monastery.
Aldric had been clear: St. Maur's was their first anchor. As one of the few surviving brothers, John held the legal right to the stones. Even if the High Septon sent a replacement, John could contest it. But in a land of fire and blood, a legal right was only as strong as the steel backing it.
To that end, Aldric had left Jon Snow behind to drill the militia. John's own task was the reconstruction of their production. Bread first, then iron.
The monastery now held nearly three hundred souls. Between the monks and the new Sunwalkers, the fields were being pushed back into life. But John was focused on his second objective: The River-Hammer.
He remembered the ox-driven forges Aldric had built in the Winter-town. A single beast could drive a hammer with the strength of ten men. It was those forges that had allowed the Silver Hand to plate themselves in iron. If they were to arm a peasant uprising, they needed efficiency that no lone blacksmith could match.
The forges in the North were limited by the slow pace of the animals. But St. Maur's sat near the Gods Eye, and a swift-running tributary of the lake cut straight through their lands. The water never slept and never tired.
Before leaving, Aldric had sketched a set of plans for a water-powered trip hammer. To John, it looked simple enough—a conversion of an animal wheel to a water wheel. Every village in the Riverlands had a mill to grind grain; the mechanics were common. But John had never tried to hitch a gristmill to an anvil.
He took two of his best carpenters, Robin and Walter, down to the riverbank. Both were refugees who had seen the "Prism Miracle" and followed Aldric with a devotion bordering on worship.
"Robin," John said, pointing to a stretch of the bank five yards wide. "What do you think of a wheel here?"
Robin, a master of his craft who had once supported a large family in a prosperous town, looked skeptical. "A mill, Septon? We don't have enough grain to warrant a stone. We should be fixing the watchtowers on the walls instead."
"Not a mill," John explained. "A hammer. A machine to forge plate and spear-heads. The Lightbringer wants it turning before the next harvest of souls arrives."
The carpenters' expressions instantly sharpened. Anything ordered by the Lightbringer was sacred work. They began pacing the bank, muttering and pointing at the current.
"Not here, Septon," Walter said, shaking his head. "The ground is too soft. A wheel needs a flat, high bank close to the flow. You avoid the dikes and the slopes, or the axle will bind and kill a man."
Robin added, "The flow must be steady. You want a bend in the river where the water is deep but doesn't slam into the bank. You put the wheel in the lee of the curve to keep the silt from clogging the buckets. We need to go upstream."
John looked toward the north. Upstream lay the lands of House Costa.
St. Maur's had been a quiet neighbor for a century, focused on its vineyards. They hadn't crossed paths with the Costas in years. But a River-Hammer required the best current, and the best current didn't care for borders.
"Let's see what the river offers," John said.
They followed the winding stream as it narrowed, moving away from the lake. Near a low, rocky hill, the water squeezed into a channel barely three yards wide. It was shallow but moved with a vicious, silent speed. A fallen leaf was snatched away the moment it touched the surface.
"Here!" Robin shouted, his eyes bright. "Here, Septon! It's perfect. It could drive two stones at once. I've never seen a 'hammer' driven by water, but this current would lift a mountain."
John's heart sank. He looked past the rushing water to a scorched wheat field and a few ragged peasants in the distance.
"It is perfect," John sighed. "But we've crossed the line. This is Costa land."