Date: 298 After Landing, Autumn
Peggy,
A few days ago I had a little girl, Della, couldn't be more than 7, run up and give me a crown made from some of the wildflowers that grow along the banks of the Red Fork river. If you took Arya and gave her blond hair, she could have been this girls twin. For the first time in weeks, I had a smile cross my face. We stopped near her small village for the night, just me and a few hundred men I had taken with us for a series of raids I was planning for enemy territory. I left the rest of our forces behind at Riverrun to guard the Keep and its prisoners until a relief force can arrive (Lord Stark assured me that 5,000 men under the command of Lord Umber, would arrive within a fortnight, while 20,000 men under his command would be setting out from the twins to hunt down Lord Tywins army in the southern Riverlands).
The Village was very quaint, so small if didn't even have a name, as was mostly a meeting place for a few local farmers to gather and trade amongst themselves. But I could see its potential. If it wasn't so close to the Westerlands, and had a charismatic leader to organize everyone, it could one day grow into a valuable hub of trade. Maybe wealthy enough to get a castle, build a standing army of guards to protect it. After a few years of fighting in Germany, this idyllic community felt like heaven.
Apparently word of our actions spread faster than our forces, but all these people cared about was that I didn't allow pillaging or looting. Normally these people would seek shelter, gather everything they could carry and hole up somewhere to protect their lives and families from soldiers. In appreciation for not ransacking them, they threw on a small celebration. Wine was shared, bread and meat was eaten, and stories were told. The Commandos and I even used some of our battlefield skills to perform tricks (such as having an arrow ricochet off my shield to hit an apple hanging from a tree). It was a wonderful time and a nice break for our men from the constant marching.
It was after I got a few of the elders drunk that I realized that the war, Lords, Kings…none of it mattered to these people. War was the providence of men with power, while those at the lower levels of society only cared about surviving. I…I hadn't considered that before. It seems like so long ago, but when I left America to fight in the war everyone was doing their part. Everyone, from the wealthiest businessman down to the poorest on the street knew the war needed to be fought, and did what they could. There is no since of identity here. Even people who live in a separate village but under the same Lord consider each other to be foreigners. There is no sense of Nationalism, no belief or ideology that links the people to the nation. Nothing that makes them care. People identify with families, friends, but not with their leaders.
I wanted to tell them they were wrong, that it matters that they stand with their nation, but I couldn't. I respect the Starks, respect their honor, but I have no allegiance to the North beyond that friendship I have with House Stark. You can't have nationalism without patriotism, but you can't have that without having an attachment to your fellow countrymen. This reliance on Feudalism has its benefits, but also causes so many other problems that it really isn't worth it. When I get back to Winterfell I will talk to Stark about it, and maybe we can come up with a solution.
The following morning I woke everyone at the normal time, but there were a few more groans about headaches this time. I had them all do the normal camp chores, then exercise as I had gotten them into the habit of doing, before we packed up and rolled out of the village. Before we left, I quietly paid the farmers for their hospitality, and promised to keep them out of the war by ending it as soon as possible.
We were only a few hours into our march towards the Golden Tooth when our rear scouts brought me word of the village we just visited. It was under attack by bandits. I sent the rest of the column ahead, put one of the Commandos in charge of the men while the rest of them went with me to save the farmers.
The smell of smoke was my first impression as I ran ahead of the Commandos. The next was the stink of copper and iron, of shit and blood. Of death. I heard the screams before I even cleared the woods. Wails of men cut short with steel. Cries of women that continued on for far too long.
…I…I lost myself. I always thought it was an expression, but I actually could feel my blood boiling in anger. We were just here. These people should have been safe. The war was far from here.
As I exited the woods the first thing I saw was the bodies. Men missing limbs, heads cut clear in half, bodies torn like some giant took an arm in each hand and pulled…and then I saw the women. Wives, sisters, daughters, almost all of them naked and covered in blood. But what brought me to a halt, stopped me in my tracks, was seeing Della's small body lying in the dirt. Her dress torn from her, and left to soak in the blood seeping down her legs. Her neck so gruesomely wrenched that her chin touched her spine. Part of me was glad she was dead, no longer able to suffer what she had seen and felt.
The rest of me was lost in a rage so blinding, I don't even remember what happened next. Next thing I knew, I had marched back into the woods towards a nearby stream, stripped off my armor and sat in the cold water. My fists were red, and someone's blood ran all the way to my elbow. I saw more of it on my shield and armor. It wasn't until the Commandos found me that I learned what had happened. Learned how I had beaten the Mountain, Gregor Clegane, to death with my hands.
Even they, my men and nearest friends, were afraid to come near me after what they had saw me do. But they all agreed it needed to be done. A few of them had even thrown up after seeing the carnage that man had caused, or perhaps from seeing what I did.
Peggy….Sharon….I don't know if I'll ever be the same after this.