Ranma's decision to train Tommen and Joffrey didn't have an impact on the way the king's party traveled. Just as before the group would get up and head out, covering about 25 leagues or so before stopping for a midday meal, after which they would continue. But now, even Ranma was hard-pressed to come up with new stories to pass the time, forcing him to make up some rather than rely on the memories of his life as Ranma Saotome.
There was still a bit of tension from Lannister supporters towards Ranma, but it had simmered to a low boil, waiting eagerly for the time when they left the North behind to come out.
Joffrey's own hatred of Ranma had solidified into a burning force, though he was careful to keep it under wraps, more because his mother seemed to have her own plans moving forward for the Stark heir. How dare Ranma have his father's approval! How dare Ranma choose Tommen over Joffrey to befriend! How dare Ranma show him up every day with his endurance, good humor and skill! How dare he always show him up and force him to do these demeaning exercises! How dare this jumped up wild boy from the North act as if he was the prince's equal! In Joffrey's mind, now the idea of marrying Sansa was not just to have a pretty little toy to play with, but so that he could eventually break that pretty toy in front of the young man he had come to hate with every fiber of his being over this trip.
He was able to keep a lid on it while he was out on his horse for the first portion of the day by simply staying away from Ranma or staying near his father. If there was one place Ranma would not be, it was near the drunken carousing that was how Robert began each day. The young Stark heir was quick to leave the King's presence as soon as he could, politely or not.
Inside the carriage was another matter. While on the surface Joffrey kept his cool, he did little things to irritate and hurt both of his younger siblings, things that he could get away with even when sitting right next to his betrothed or across from his mother. Kicking them 'accidentally' while stretching, elbowing Tommen hard in the ribs as he got up out of his seat, or pulling on Myrcella's hair when Sansa and his mother were looking out the window. These very small things, to him, did not truly go far to appease his anger, but it was enough for him to keep control, for now.
Myrcella knew that Joffrey was being his usual horrid self, though he was showing a surprising amount of cunning in hiding it in plain sight from Sansa. Not so much their mother, who never bothered to notice such things. Still, Myrcella put up with it as she always had when she had to, though she was proud of how Tommen put up with it.
Tommen didn't realize what was going on and as days passed he began to ignore these little blows more and more. Thanks to Ranma's training, he was becoming a little tougher every day. Unlike Joffrey, who only did them begrudgingly and stopped the moment Robert, a few days later, stopped watching, Tommen threw himself into the training eagerly. Though he really wasn't very good at it yet, he was enthusiastic at least and soon noticed something that spurred him on even more.
His father was actually showing some interest in Tommen! The dedication and time he was putting into the training exercises of his idol had gone quite a ways to making him seem more like what Robert felt a son of his loins should be like. It wasn't anything big, just a smile here and a nod there, but that was better than the scowls and glares that any of the royal children normally got, if the King noticed them at all.
Thankfully, Joffrey hadn't noticed this yet nor had Cersei. Her normal sharp senses for such things dulled by 'that time of the month' a few days after Ranma began to take Tommen under his wing. This was not a pleasant time for anyone in the coach. Even with the chance to be next to his betrothed plus the chance to needle his younger siblings, Joffrey jumped at the chance to escape the carriage while his mother was in such bad humor. The Queen knew this, so allowed even her daughter out of her sight during this time. The two young children spent five days out on Ranma's horse, with Myrcella holding her brother in front of her, next to Ranma as he ran along with Fenris telling them tales, while Joffrey rode at the front of the column as was his right, with Robert.
During this time, Sansa joined Ned on his horse as she had a time or two on trips to White Harbor, Castle Cerwyn, or even once to Castle Hornwood. The two talked quietly, blocking out the rest of the world as the two of them spoke as a father would with a daughter who he was going to be giving away all too soon.
Once Cersei's time passed, she went back to her project of figuring out how to influence or handle Ranma, with limited success so far. Varys, on the other hand, had given up his interest in the Stark heir for now, instead trying to analyze Ned and the impact the older Stark would have on King's Landing or vice versa. Varys really didn't understand Ranma or the impact he could have as a symbol or as a warrior. He dealt with shadows, money and politics, not warfare or symbology. Cersei, however, knew that symbols, such as a gods-touched warrior, could be dangerous if not harnessed. She was waiting for them to get down where it was warmer, so she could truly begin her campaign to do just that.
Two more weeks passed thus while they crossed the side of the barrowlands until they were within sight of the Moat. As the massive towers (each of them larger by far than any tower in Winterfell and able to house at least three-hundred people comfortably) came into view, Ranma looked up at his father riding next to Robert at the head of the column. "Do you think Lord Reed will be there?"
"I hope so," Ned responded, a small smile appearing on his granite-like face, "though I am uncertain, the Moat is not House Reed's seat after all."
Robert barked a laugh, as with him as he sipped from his wine. "Hah, maybe the bentback won't have been able to find his own damn castle, Greywater moves, after all! What say you lad, want to run ahead and see if Howland's there?"
"Don't tempt me, my Lord." Ranma replied, shaking his head. "It wouldn't take much, trust me. I'm getting mighty bored with the pace this group sets. Maybe if you quit drinking half the morning away before we set off, we would make better time?" Ned looked at his son sharply, but Ranma merely shrugged back, after all it wasn't like he had really attacked the King, was it? Ranma was just getting tired of the King and of the Queen, in her own way, as well. The King wore his vices on his sleeve. The Queen tried to hide her feelings under a veneer of hauteur but Ranma could tell there was a lot of hate plus a lot ambition underneath. Some of the looks the Queen had sent his way freaked Ranma out.
Robert laughed again, not taking the boy's jape as an attack on him but as a sign of Ranma's boredom. He'd been amused the entire trip with the way that Ranma just kept going day after day, sprinting along with the horses and not even seeming to be very effected by it.
It took them another four hours travel to actually reach Moat Cailin, but they had timed this portion of the journey very well. The Queen, her ladies, Sansa, and the children stopped with twenty guards at an inn within an hour's ride of the Moat. The rest of the party continued on and stayed at the Moat, welcomed by the men of a few of the Neck's minor houses and House Reed.
Lord Reed was indeed waiting there, although neither of his children was with him. After firm, brotherly hugs exchanged with both Ned and Ranma, Lord Reed explained their absence, his voice rasping as it always did, a holdover from a childhood disease many crannogmen suffered from. "Meera was with me here but she's out hunting now, along with several others. There was a report of a lizard lion nearby. A full grown one, not one of the adolescents or young males."
Lizard lions were sort of like crocodiles or alligators back in the world Ranma had come from initially and, yet, in many ways, weren't. For one thing, they were stronger and heavier than crocodiles or alligators normally were and, for another, their skin was even tougher. In fact, many marsh warriors used their skin for armor. It worked almost as well as half-plate without being nearly as heavy. Their arms were also much longer and more flexible and, after reaching their full growth, they developed a poison that they secreted from the spines along their backs. The females were also able to exhale a noxious gas from their mouth, at need. Also, unlike crocodiles or alligators, their jaws were heavily muscled both for opening and closing.
The breeding adults were also somewhat more intelligent, enough to know to stay away from humans for the most part. The adolescents hadn't developed the intelligence to stay away from humans, making the younger lizard lions range from nuisances to real dangers. However, none of the adolescents were ever large examples of their breed. They were a danger certainly, but they hadn't yet developed the poison nor were they so large. They did not have much in the way of animal cunning, which seemed to develop even more slowly for lizard lions than it did for humans. A fully grown lizard lion could weigh, at a minimum, as much as a knight in full armor along with his horse. An adolescent could weigh as much as an unarmored human. It took several years for them to move from their teenage years, as it were, to full adulthood. Keeping their numbers down was a major, long term occupation of the Neck's Noble Houses.
Ranma frowned, looking over the marshlands abutting the eastern side and almost the entire frontage of the Moat, save for the causeway, a road, twenty feet wide at this point, leading on south under the watchful eyes of all three towers. He was worried about Meera, who was a good friend of Arya's, despite being older. He looked up at one of the towers, shuddering as he saw the ballista on the roof. That thing looks like it would smart like one of Lime's punches. "What about your son, how is he doing?"
"Jojen is doing well, in the main." Howland answered, frowning faintly. "He collapsed about a month and a half ago, but he seems to be recovering his strength well enough. His mother is keeping him close to home, however, since he has had some fever dreams ever since, muttering about how fate has changed, and other incomprehensible things. 'The eyes have closed' was one, and something about three eyes."
Ranma and Ned both frowned, offering their condolences and well wishes for the boy to get better. Ranma remembered Jojen as a bit of an odd child, with wide staring eyes and an almost musical voice, yet, he was also surly and detached, sometimes giving the impression that he wasn't all there when you were talking to him.
He much preferred Meera, who was an older version of Arya in many ways. The girl was wild and cagey, a very skilled hunter even though she was only fourteen, and somewhat passable (high praise from Ranma) with a spear. She and Arya had met a few times and had got along splendidly, though she and Sansa had not. Sansa was most definitely a girly girl and Meera was the ultimate tomboy.
Howland clasped his old friend's shoulder affectionately. "Come, we've put up a bit of an outdoor meal for you all, not a feast, my lands don't produce enough to fully feast you as you should be, Your Grace." Ned smiled, eager to share news with Howland, whose advice he always respected, wondering if the man would see the same dangers Ned saw ahead of him down south. Robert grunted, but didn't really care one way or another so long as the wine was flowing freely.
Once they started to traverse the Neck, there would be no stopping, no midday meal, and no hunting. The only way through the neck was by the Kingsroad on its causeway. There was nothing in the Neck but marshes as far as the eye could see on either side of the road, so no way to hunt. They would be pushing through as quickly as possible, exchanging horses and mules as they could to push on. The trip through the Neck going up had taken a little longer than three weeks. The trip going down would hopefully take them a shorter amount of time.
Ranma followed after his father, frowning faintly as women he could tell were whores moved to join with the 'camp followers' that were a permanent part of the King's party, moving towards the men-at-arms, two of the better looking ones moving toward the King. He shook his head, suddenly not very interested in partying. Later that evening, Ranma was able to excuse himself, then moved off to talk to a few of the soldiers of House Reed before moving away from the light of the many campfires.
He found Fenris, who was now almost as large as a pony and showed no signs of reaching his full growth, moving toward him almost immediately. The direwolves eyes were gleaming in the faint moonlight, eager to hunt with his bond-mate. Ranma chuckled but shook his head. "Sorry pal, but hunting around here isn't anything you're going to be good for. There's not nearly enough solid ground out here for you, sorry."
Fenris huffed, his breath puffing out in the cold air for a moment, causing Ranma to frown a little, remembering his house's motto, making him wonder if winter was coming soon, and if Jon was handling things back north, preparing the Wall to defend against the White Walkers. At the moment however, there wasn't anything he could do about that.
He came back to the here and now, looking out over the marshlands to the east. "I just gotta get away for a bit. Stay out of the way of the southerners while I'm gone, alright?" Fenris couldn't really understand human speech, but the images Ranma sent along their link got through and the direwolf padded away into the night.
Ranma smiled at that, then moved to the edge of the solid land along the eastern edge of Moat Cailin, marked by a small, chest high wall. It's opposite number along the western edge, facing toward the Fever River, was among the defenses being rebuilt, but this one, facing the marshes, didn't need that. Ranma hopped onto the wall then, without further ado, leapt forward, grabbing the limb of a tree about twelve meters away, flipping himself into the canopy and away, a wide grin on his face as he left the party well behind him.
OOOOOOO
While the noise and bustle of the party went on around them, Ned and Howland had retreated to the large, flat-bodied marsh boat that Howland used to traverse the marshes of the Neck. Robert had gone off with three girls at once, mumbling something in his drunken stupor of wanting to break his personal record. Ned had sighed, smiled, and let him go his way, though inside he was beginning to be worried about how much ale his old friend consumed. Then Ned and Howland had made their escape from the carousing, leaving Ser Jory and a few of Howland's men in charge to make certain that nothing violent happened.
Now, alone with a single candle the two exchanged news or, at least, Ned told Howland about the news from Winterfell. He told him everything, the stirring of the White Walkers and their attack on Ranma's party, the attack on Bran, Ned's growing concerns about what might be awaiting him down south, everything.
Howland took it all in, simply sitting there, saying nothing as was his wont. Howland rarely spoke about anything until he had time to work it all out in his mind. Finally he spoke, his voice low and rasping, yet still a welcome sound to Ned's ears. "You are right to be concerned about what might be going on in King's Landing, Ned. Here in the Neck, we hear a little more news than the rest of the North, thanks to our tradesmen selling our medicinal ingredients in the Riverlands. There are rumors of discontent, of the growing reach of House Lannister and the corruption of the court. Robert was an excellent general and a warrior, but he has not been a good king. He has not really tried to rule the kingdom, it is the council that rules in his stead, and there, Lannister gold buys many votes."
He looked at Ned's face and chuckled, the rasp in his voice making the chuckle sound very odd. "You are too much the honest Northerner, my lord. Politics is about power, money, and prestige, as well as appearances. That is where Robert has faltered. Jon Arryn helped him navigate those waters somewhat, but could not control them. The court is a cesspool, where the shit rises to the top."
Ned grimaced, but nodded. "I just wish I had a real idea of what I was going to find when we get there. As the King's Hand it will be my duty to... drain that cesspool, I suppose you could say, but what am I going to find at the very bottom?"
"That I cannot tell you, I can only say that which you should already know. For one, do not assume that the people you deal with will be honorable or even rational. When someone becomes used to wielding power, they will do everything they can to keep it when threatened. Watch your back and keep that lad of yours close, if you can. He tends to react in a very… blunt manner and that might earn you more enemies than it frightens away. On the other hand, if things do become physical, young Ranma can be a force none will be ready to match."
"True enough," Ned nodded, smiling faintly. His son was indeed a force to be reckoned with, though as unsuited as he was when it came to politics and the sort of back alley deals he feared he would all to soon be forced to deal with.
The crannogman paused, one hand moving over his closely shaved scalp for a moment as he thought. "I cannot give you any more precise advice there. You have already been in contact with Lord Tully. He may know more or, at least, send an advisor you can trust with the men you requested. As for your other bits of news, I cannot think what your son saw, but my gut is telling me it was important, more important than simply a illicit meeting between a White Cloak and a married woman. On the other hand, the White Walkers…" He frowned deeply. "That is worrisome, far more worrisome than whatever is going on down south. They haven't been seen in over eight thousand years, far longer than any notes or histories I would trust. I wish I or the houses owing mine fealty could aid you but your idea to send a whelming up to the wall is a good one. Yet, they come with the winter. I trust you have also told the other houses of the North to prepare for that."
After Ned nodded, Howland looked at him sharply. "But the whelming will have brought some attention to the boy. Did you think of that?"
Ned shrugged. "I had to leave him in charge. Ser Rodrick doesn't have the head for numbers to handle the logistics and he isn't well known beyond my family's lands to speak for my house. Jon has the one, and is known well enough for the other. I trust him to handle it and, while this might bring more attention his way, none in the North will look too deeply at things."
Howland hummed noncommittally, staring at one wall as he remembered a day years ago and the toughest fight he had ever been in. He was more than a little concerned about any attention being paid to Jon but his baseborn status defended him from such scrutiny or did, if you didn't really know Eddard Stark and his sense of honor. He shook it off, what's done is done. "I wish I could aid you more my friend, something material, some advice to help you steer this course other than simply telling you to be very careful but it is outside my realm of knowledge. I'm sorry."
"That's alright, old friend. Simply talking about it made me feel better." Ned smiled, and the two moved on to other things.
OOOOOOO
Ranma leapt from one tree to another, smiling faintly at the chance to do something more physical than just running along. He zoomed through the night of the marsh, lit by the stars above and the faint gust of luminescent gas rising from the marsh below, which hid the lower areas of the trees he was traversing through, hiding many threats beneath its ever moving surface. He was almost silent for all of his speed, a mere rustle of leaves in the night, not even his sword, strapped to his back, catching on branches or giving any indication of his presence.
Beyond the needed physical exercise, this was also a mental release. Out here there was no hidden agendas swirling around him just outside of his ability to grasp, no drunken king not worth his crown, no queen with her odd glances and cold ways, no Joffrey, no worries about his family or the coming troubles he could see, both from the White Walkers and whatever the hell was going on down south. Nothing but him, the marsh around him, and the night air whistling around him.
About thirty minutes after he left Moat Cailin, Ranma's enjoyment was shattered by a loud roar, accompanied by the cracking of wood in the distance and someone cussing like a sailor in a voice of mixed anger and fear. It was a female voice, a voice he had heard before. "Huh, sounds like little Meera is in trouble."
Ranma moved rapidly in that direction, passing through the branches of the trees as easily as someone else would over level ground, arriving on the scene swiftly. Below him, a small hunting boat, a coracle about as long as a man was tall, thin, flat-bottomed, yet, made of thick wood to stop hidden branches or, more importantly, the claws and jaws of a lizard lion, had been capsized. A young girl, visible by the moonlight and some marsh lights coming off the waters among the trees, was now balanced precariously on the prow of the boat, both hands holding a short hafted trident, whose tip was pointing down at the reason her boat had capsized.
A huge lizard lion had come out of the marsh's water, its fangs gleaming in a mouth opened as wide as Ranma's arms would stretch, its red eyes gleaming with hunger or blood lust. The thing was longer than the height of three men, wider than the coracle it had capsized, and apparently, judging by how Meera's thrusts were skittering along its back, its skin was harder than chainmail. The thing was ignoring the girl's futile attempts to wound it, simply clawing it's way up the coracle's flat bottom to get at her.
"Winter is Coming!" Ranma howled, pulling his sword free from it's scabbard. He leaped down from the tree he had been in to land right on top of the lizard's snout, forcing its jaw closed. One foot raised in an attempt to smack him away but, by this point, Ranma was ready with his sword and the armor of the lizard's arm wasn't as tough as it's body. Ranma's thrust burst through the back of the things foot and the monster lizard retreated, trying to bring its jaws to bear on him.
Ranma turned quickly, grabbed Meera, trident and all, and leapt up into the treetops. "Hey Meera, ran into a bit of trouble, did you?"
"Oh shut up! I was following the thing, it's bleeding from some old wound, making tracking it relatively easy, but I lost it when it hid under some quicksand under the water. How was I supposed to know it had enough strength to overcome the quicksand's pull!?" Meera yelled in his ear, hyperventilating a little at both how close she had come to death and Ranma's sudden arrival.
The girl was tough, though, and got over it quickly, staring down as the injured beast began to slam it's massive tail against the tree trunk that supported them. "The forest folk must have sent you, Ranma Stark, but what do we do now? That thing is going to keep attacking us and it's already killed ten hunters in the past two days, along with three family boats disappearing. It's my duty as a Reed to kill it before it can do more."
"Then we better finish it now. Get your trident ready and make your way down the tree to that low branch down there," Ranma indicated a large branch about three feet above the water's churning surface. "Then wait for your shot but remember to aim for the eyes."
Without further ado, Ranma once again leaped downward, laughing aloud now at the chance to vent some of his frustration about the journey he was currently on. He landed feet first on the things back, slamming his sword down point first. With his strength Ranma was able to plunge his sword's tip through the powerful back armor of the lizard lion, but it didn't penetrate very far before stopping.
This gave the cagey old lizard time to roll in the water, which it did, taking Ranma and his sword with it. Ranma cursed as he slammed into the water, but kicked out, his foot glowing blue for a moment, when the thing turned to try and close its jaws around him.
The blow caught it on its upper teeth, shattering them and actually throwing the thing a little up out of the water. Meera, shaking off her shock at the power of the kick, stabbed quickly, aiming for the giant lizard lion's right eye. Her trident skitter across the armor plate surrounded the thing's eyes and skull, but one of the tines of the trident smashed into the monster's eyeball.
"RAAHH!" the lizard lion roared, turning away to try and bring it's tail to bear on Meera while concentrating on Ranma. Meera dodged as much as she could but she still caught a glancing blow that lifted her off her perch on the low slung branch, throwing her through the air into the water a few yards away. Luckily, like all crannogmen, she could tread water and climb like a monkey, so that was what she did, climbing up the trunk of a nearby tree as quickly as possible.
With Meera dealt with and Ranma now weaponless, and in the water, the lizard lion pressed it's advantage. Ranma, however, didn't retreat, simply moving to meet the creature. Its jaws once more tried to catch him, but Ranma, quicker than lightning, grabbed the upper jaw and flipped himself up and out of the water into the air above the beast.
The lizard lion actually shook its head in stupefaction for a moment before pushing out of the water, trying to catch its attacker in midair. Ranma merely changed direction by grabbing a hanging branch, reaching with his other hand to his sword still stuck in the beast's back. He pulled it out, grunting slightly, then, flipped himself over to land in the water right under a tree, standing on the roots hidden in the water.
The beast charged once more, jaws open to bite him but Ranma stood his ground. When the thing came close enough, he stabbed his sword deep into its mouth with as much force as he could, slamming through the lizard lion's upper mouth and deep into its brain, killing it instantly.
Ranma had to let go of his sword and leap into the tree as the thing went into its death throes, watching as the thing thrashed and died. He looked over to where Meera was clinging like a drenched koala (not that anyone else in Westeros would call her that) to another tree and said dryly, "Well, that was exciting, wasn't it?"
Meera gaped at him for a minute, then barked a laugh, before moving up into the branches of the tree. She sat there, staring down at the massive lizard lion, not even looking up as Ranma made his way over to her while, in the distance, lights from other coracles began to appear, the other hunters who had been out searching for this monster making their way toward the sound of the disturbance. Meera had lost her lantern when the boat capsized, but since it had been a choice between her trident or her lamp, she didn't mind. "That lizard lion is a real monster, it must be at least as old as my father. What in the name of the old gods was it doing around here, we never see any lizard lions that old this far from the center of the Neck, nor do ones that old normally bother to come close to humans."
She felt more than saw Ranma shrug ignorance and she looked up at him now, pushing her long brown hair back out of her eyes from where it had matted across her face with swamp water, shivering a little in the cold nighttime air. Ranma looked just as wet and bedraggled as she did but still had a smile on his handsome face and didn't seem to feel the cold. Meera smiled, smacking her shoulder against the boy she knew as a somewhat wild, chaotic cousin more than as heir of the lordship of the North. "So, what brought you to my rescue, Ranma, besides the obvious I mean?"
"Going south with my father, who has agreed to be the King's Hand, though why anyone would want the job is beyond me. Anyway, I'm going south to meet my prospective bride. Someone from House Tyrell down in the Reaches, ugh. Frankly this bit of fun here was probably the last I'll have for a while."
Meera gaped at his morose expression, then, as the lights of her fellow hunters came close enough to see them, began to laugh again. She was still laughing when the other crannogmen arrived.
Ranma left her to it, suddenly noticing that the tree they were on had no moss on it, nor was it rotting. He looked down at the trunk and saw a face jutting out of the trunk. He smiled faintly, leaning back and closing his eyes, allowing a feeling of rightness and wellbeing to wash over him, while below the hunters began to make plans to transport his kill.
Suddenly a small vision came to him, a roar, fire, and the beat of wings. He opened his eyes, wondering what the hell that meant, but shook it off for now, staring down at the giant lizard lion. "I wonder what it would take to make a suit of armor out of that thing?"
End Chapter