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Being Aerys by Xersin
 Books » A song of Ice and Fire Rated: T, English, Drama & Humor, Aerys T., Rhaella T., OC, Words: 167k+, Favs: 1k+, Follows: 1k+, Published: Jun 14, 2017 Updated: Sep 1, 2017282Chapter 24: Vol 3 - A Lion's Pride
xXx
Volume 3
A Lion's Pride
10th Month, 261 AC
Down in the south, the winds of winter were gentler than those he had come to know whilst growing up in the north.
Thus, it was rather amusing seeing some of these southron knights and men complain about nothing more than a little cold. Benjen would have loved to see any of these men try and live through a true winter.
A winter of the north.
Pampered louts, the lot of them.
Beside him, Ser Gerrard Darke, his boiled leather and steel plate wrapped up in wools and furs to protect himself from the cold let out a mist of air as he huffed. "I don't know how you can stand this abominable weather. Never been in a winter so cold in my life." The knight sworn to House Darklyn of Duskendale eyed him at the corner of his eyes. "I'm surprised you are not worried about catching a chill as little warmly as you are dressed."
Underneath him, his courser whinnied as they made their way down the kingsroad towards their destination of King's Landing. Benjen leaned forward and patted his horse's neck. "Us Starks are made for the cold. Would you believe me if I told you that me and many have wrestled in the cold snows of the north bare chested?"
Judging by the look the knight gave him, he didn't believe him. "Madness. Madness I tell you." The older man said whilst shaking his head.
In reply, Benjen just shrugged, but then he couldn't grin like a wolf as he spoke to the man. "What is life without a little madness? I would think it dreadfully dull."
The kingsroad was blanketed white with snow, but the fairly regularly travel it saw had turned much of the snow into a slurry mush of white mixed with brown. There had been no snows for days now, stopping anymore from building atop the road.
But the kingswood around them was a different matter though. Tall evergreens that had kept their leaves could have been mistaken for having white leaves by the amount of snow that still rested on them. Whilst other trees found themselves stripped bare of their leaves and the little warmth that was afforded to them was take away by the snows that had come to wrest on gnarled branches that twisted and hooked all around them.
At the front of their convoy, Ser Barristan Selmy raised his hand to bring it to a halt. Curious, Benjen spurred his horse to the front to see what had caused them to stop, a hand warily travelling towards the blade strapped to his waist.
He had been at the receiving end of too many ambushes and attacks of the night for his liking.
"What holds us?" He asked, reining his horse to the side of the white cloaked knight.
As with all winters, men, women and children had died from the tender mercies of the season. Among the many that had been taken by a deadly winter chill that they could not recover from, had been several of the Kingsguard.
The most surprising had been Ser Duncan the Tall. The death of such a paragon of chilvary and someone who was referred to as the 'People's Champion' among the smallfolk had shaken the castle and the city.
No-one had seen such a thing coming. He had been more than healthy one moment and the next, a chill had come and quickly took him away from this world. No-one felt it more than the knight's oldest friend and companion, King Aegon.
With openings in the Kingsguard, the call had been made to knights that had been noted for their skill in arms and bravery. Lewyn Martell and Ser Barristan Selmy. The one that had been called the Bold by Prince Duncan himself.
Although there was a certain amount of a scandal in Ser Barristan's appointment. He was the heir to House Selmy, a house of principal renown and power in the stormlands and Harvest Hall was a strong castle. The fact that Ser Barristan had been willing to abandoned all that, along with a beautiful betrothed for the oaths of the kingsguard had added more to his already realm-wide fame.
Ser Barristan indicated to the front of them with his head. "A family of deer."
The knight spoke true as Benjen noticed the family of deer that was crossing the road ahead of them. A stag of noticeable size eyed their group warily with large dark leader then. Benjen decided. Doing an impeccable job of protecting it's own.
He would have loved to take a moment to hunt such a magnificent creature, but he doubted the good knight that led their party would have been willing to spare the time to humour his fancies. His hunt would have to wait for another time.
When the last of the deer had crossed and began to make it's way deeper into the kingswood, so did the stag finally follow after them, making a moment to stop and push forward a small fawn that was lagging behind.
When it was done, Ser Barristan signalled for them to begin moving ahead once more.
Glancing back, Benjen saw the sight of several carriages that carried their prisoners. Bandits, outlaws, robber knights, the lot of them had been praying on the trade that had been coming through the roseroad from the reach and raiding small villages within the surroundings of the kingswood.
It had been a task that took the greater part of a moon's turn and then some to finally hunt them down to their lair within the kingswood and a bloody battle to finally bring them down to heel. Many good guards men and knights had fallen in battle, but even more of the outlaws had fallen in the face of true steel.
Benjen made a point to drink to the memories of the men that had died in service of their king and duty.
They continued to make their way up the kingsroad for an hour. They could already see the Red Keep atop Aegon's High Hill long before they had actually exited the kingswood. They rode past travellers wrapped just in as many wools and furs as the men that he had fought with. Past merchants and the carriages that carried their goods, off to be sold in some market, somewhere.
Once upon a time, barges would have carried traffic from the side of the Blackwater they rode from to the side where the city lay, but the Blackwater Bridge had changed all that. The bridge was wide enough to allow four wayns to be driven abreast of each other, Benjen could remember once upon a time that this bridge had been nothing more than rickety wood that had given him pause as to it's strength and it's perceived ability to do the task required of it.
Now, it was more stone than wood. The builders and masons had started their work on the bridge before winter had come, when the leaves were turning red and the days had become shorter. In a testament to their determination, they had carried building and adding onto the bridge during the midst of winter to what it was now.
The bridge was a rather ingenious in it's own way. Thoughtful of traffic that would come down from upriver, the central, wooden part of the bridge made out of strong, sturdy ironwood could swing around on it's central axis to allow ship borne traffic through, whilst swinging back to allow land traffic.
A swing bridge it had been called. As curious at how it worked, what really caught his attention was the ornaments that decorated the stone portion of the bridge.
Can't forget about the dragons. Benjen thought as they rode upon the bridge of stone and wood guarded by four marble statues of dragons, two on either side of the bridge. All the dragons had been painted to a skilful degree that they may have very well looked like real, live dragons. My cousin's husband does love his dragons. I'm sure they will dutifully scare away any rabble that tries to cross this bridge and cause trouble in his city.
When they reached the river gate, they came to a halt as the gate captain took out a pad and handed it out to Ser Barristan. He looked past him towards the wagon that carried their prisoners. He shook his head. "Broken men?" He asked the knight.
Ser Barristan wrote on the pad and handed it back to the captain with a nod of the head. "Aye. And I suspect not to be the last that we will bring to justice for brigandry."
That was the problem with war.
The Stepstone had made Benjen. The deeds that he had done, in both for his name and that of his house had garnered him fame and glory that would live on into the ages. But just as war could make a man, it could also very well unmake one.
The broken men were more than proof enough of that.
He shook his head. The existence of men that couldn't even handle a little blood and death surprised even more so when sometimes, they came upon broken men led by a knight. Too find these storied knights held in such esteem by these southrons always amused him.
From all the stories he had grown up hearing about knights from Serwyn of the Mirror Shield to Prince Aemon the Dragonknight, he had half expected more from them. At the end of the day, they were just men with a silly title and status that did not mean much.
The gate captain took the pad from the knight and gave it a quick look over before his eyes darted towards their convoy before nodding. He stepped aside and waved them through. "Carry on, good ser and have a good day."
"And you too, captain." Ser Barristan spurred his horse and the rest followed after him.
There was still much to be done about King's Landing. The winter had slowed down construction, but the first parts of the city that had been rebuilt were now slowly accepting people to be moved into the houses and apartments that had been built.
Earlier than Aerys would have liked, but when disease had spread through the shanty that had been thrown outside the castle walls by the poor, he had to allow the relocating of those in need into proper housing. There was still much to be done, but King's Landing was slowly, but surely, on it's way to looking more like a full city rather than half of one.
The Hook carried them from the river gate towards the direction of the Red Keep that stood above all, it's shadow resting on the most affluent area of the city, with shops that held wares and goods that even he would be pressed to purchase if not his incomes were supplemented in other ways. It was a good thing that he was a Stark, for Starks cared nothing about such things.
"...The young lion seems intent on putting the westerlands to right." His ears picked up the chatter among some of the men.
"Aye. I've heard the same. Heard he tasked his brother with a hundred knights, seasoned by the war, to hunt down any and all robber knights that have been plaguing his lands."
"So like any other lord then?" Ser Gerrard voice carried about. "Tywin Lannister is not the only lord who has to bring peace to his own lands. Many are doing that as we speak."
"True as that is." He recognised this voice. It belonged to a knight by the name of Willem Darkwood, a distant kin of Ser Gerrard himself. "Most lords only have to deal with robber knights and their ilk because of the war. Tywin Lannister has to deal with those knights that had existed long before then."
"To think a Lord Paramount would be so poor in carrying out his duties...shameful I say. I'm surprised that the Reynes have yet to take this chance to try and take Casterly Rock for themselves. It was once said that the Reynes reigned over Casterly Rock after all and will reign over it once more."
Laughter rang out then and Benjen could feel himself groan. That jape was poor. A pun that he had far too many times wine sinks of the city and the court itself.
He pulled his horse back to join in the conversation. He might not care for their jokes, but there was nothing wrong with a little talk amongst men as these. "It's actually a company of five hundred knights instead of a hundred, sers." He corrected them, garnering the attention of the horsed men. "And from what I understand, young Ser Kevan has been making good of the task his brother set upon him."
Ser Willem snorted. "If it's any truth that these robber knights are underneath the sponsorship of the Reynes, we might soon find ourselves with a lion skinned."
"The question is though," Benjen began. "What colour would be it's coat. Red or gold?"
A question for the ages. All eyes were on the troubles that were happening in the westerlands. Many a betting pools had been placed by knights, lords and ladies aplenty as to which lion shall find itself dominating the westerlands.
Some lords amused themselves with their betting of the state of affairs of the westerlands, but others, of more dubious colouring acted to profit from the chaos. The ironborn being one amongst many.
It was strange though, it was said that Quellon Greyjoy was more reasonable than any ironborn had the right to be, so it beggered the question as to why he would allow his people to turn to their age old tradition of reaving. Their reaving a cause of concern for more than just the westerlands.
The north had more than their fair share of tales of ironborn trepidations along the Stony Shore and Bear Island.
The situation wasn't at all helped by the apparent inaction of the king when it comes to setting the westerlands to rights and returning law and order to it's lands and lords.
"Are you fishmongers wives or knights, good sers?" Ser Barristan barked as he reared his horse to the side to face them. "Do you have nothing better to do with your time than share gossip amongst yourselves?"
The men shrank into themselves from being rebuked by the kingsguard. But Benjen was just not any men. "What else can we do, good ser? There's no more battle to be had and our arses happen to be sore from all this riding. Might as well warm ourselves with our wagging tongues."
Ser Barristan frowned at him, but he kept up his smile amongst the silent chuckling of the men. "Perhaps I shall help you warm up in the training yard, ser. Nothing is quicker to warm the body up than a good work-out in the yard."
Benjen laughed uneasily. He valued his skill with a blade, being better than most. But he would admit that nothing more than a total thrashing would happen if he was to face off against the Bold himself.
But he was a man who did not step down from a challenge. And baring the loss of face amongst men that had come to respect him was something that he did not particularly want to face.
"Is that a challenge, Ser Barristan? If so, I very well accept."
He would make a wager, but he didn't make wagers on fool's bets. And this was very much a fool's bet.
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