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Chapter 21 – The Idea of the Sentinels
The rebel camp's fires flickered under the star-strewn sky, throwing long, wavering shadows across the battle-worn faces of knights and soldiers alike. There was a heavy tension in the air—not from the ever-present dread of battle, but from an uncertainty about the future. Victory in recent engagements had not brought peace; many now wondered what would come once Robert Baratheon claimed the throne.
For Steve Rogers, however, the answer was clear. Even if the war ended, the suffering would continue. He had witnessed cycles of chaos in worlds not unlike this one, where the downfall of tyrants only led to the rise of new oppressors, leaving the common folk to pay the price. He had no hunger for lordship or power, but he was driven by a desire to forge something lasting—a purpose beyond the carnage of war.
A Knight's Purpose Beyond Battle
It began in quiet moments among the soldiers. One evening, as the weary warriors rested after a grueling march, Steve found himself sitting on a fallen log near the campfire. He methodically sharpened his Wakandan shields with a whetstone, lost in thought, when a knight of House Mallister, Ser Barron, broke the silence with a comment.
"You fight like a man possessed, Ser Steve. I've never seen a knight wield two shields with such skill," he said, raising his tankard in salute.
Steve offered a small, wry smile. "Not many do," he replied.
An Umber bannerman grunted in agreement. "It's a good thing you charged in alone at Fairmarket. It took guts, if not sheer madness."
Laughter bubbled up around the fire, but Steve's tone soon turned earnest. "It wasn't madness," he insisted quietly. "Every battle isn't fought for glory alone. It's about protecting those who can't protect themselves."
A young Riverlander squire, barely sixteen, looked up at him with wide, uncertain eyes. "But what happens after the war?" the boy asked. "When the lords return to their keeps and the kings take their thrones—who will safeguard the common folk then?"
Steve paused, letting the fire's crackle fill the silence. "Imagine an order," he began softly, "an order not beholden to any crown or banner, but dedicated solely to the protection of the people. Warriors who fight not for personal gain, but for justice and peace." His words were measured and sincere, and for a moment, the group fell into deep silence, each man lost in his own thoughts.
Ser Barron frowned, skeptical. "You mean like wandering sellswords?"
"No," Steve replied firmly. "Think of it as a brotherhood—an elite group of knights bound by duty alone. Their purpose would be to patrol the roads, protect villages, and stand as a shield against chaos when the lords are too busy with their own squabbles."
A murmur rippled among the men. Some exchanged looks of cautious hope, while others simply listened, absorbed in the gravity of the idea. An older Northman remarked, "We are wolves, yes, but even a wolf watches over his pack." His words struck a chord, and though not everyone was convinced, the seed was planted.
The Idea Spreads
Over the next few days, the concept grew quietly among the soldiers. When Steve sparred with his comrades, many would pause mid-drill to ask him more about his vision. A Stormlander sellsword sneered one day, "You really expect the lords to back an order that fights for the common man? What stops a king from declaring them outlaws?"
Steve dodged a blow and countered with a swift strike, then answered, "That's why it must be recognized by the crown. Not as a threat, but as a safeguard for the realm. If our king sees the benefit, he'll support us as defenders of the peace." His eyes sparkled with conviction, and even the cynical House Blackwood knight, Ser Edric, nodded thoughtfully.
The idea resonated especially with the Northmen, whose deep sense of duty and honor saw this as a natural extension of their own values. "We are proud and fierce," one Umber soldier said, "but sometimes even the fiercest wolf needs to protect his pack."
Not everyone was on board. Roose Bolton, hearing snippets of these discussions, merely smirked. "Men without a banner are just wandering vagabonds," he commented coldly to no one in particular. Steve did not push back—he knew that ideas grow slowly, and not all hearts were ready to be moved by a call to duty that transcended personal ambition.
A Formal Pledge
Two nights later, under a sky heavy with the promise of dawn, Steve addressed a larger gathering. Dozens of knights, squires, and common soldiers formed a semicircle around one of the largest campfires. This time, the discussion was not mere idle talk—it was a call to arms for something greater than the war itself.
"I have no desire for lordship or power," Steve began, his voice steady and clear as he looked into the expectant faces before him. "I fight because I believe in defending the weak and upholding justice in a land torn apart by conflict. What I propose is an order—one that will not serve any single king or banner, but will serve the realm itself."
A hush fell over the crowd. A young knight, his armor dented from battle, asked quietly, "And what would this order do?"
Steve met his gaze. "They would be a brotherhood of warriors dedicated to protecting those who cannot protect themselves—patrolling the roads, defending villages, and ensuring that when the war is over, the people are not left to fend for themselves." He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. "This order will stand as a shield for the realm—a sentinel against the chaos that follows in the wake of victory."
Ser Barron, ever the skeptic, stepped forward. "And who would lead this order, if not a lord? You speak of a knightly cause, yet you hold no title, no land."
Steve shook his head gently. "I am no man of noble birth, and I seek no title. I only ask that our king recognize our duty. We must be seen not as rebels or mercenaries, but as defenders of the peace." His passion was unmistakable, and the firelight in his eyes sparked hope among many present.
A murmur of approval ran through the crowd. One voice, stronger than the rest, declared, "Then let us be the shield that guards the people." And from that moment, a new purpose was kindled in the hearts of the rebels.
The Aftermath in the Rebel Camp
As the camp bustled with the activity of preparation and planning for the final march to the Trident, discussions of strategy mingled with talks of the future. In the command tent, Eddard Stark, Robert Baratheon, Jon Arryn, Roose Bolton, and Steve Rogers reviewed their plans over maps and whispered debates about the coming battle.
Jon Arryn remarked, "The Trident is near, but we must assume that Rhaegar is already amassing his forces." Robert bellowed, "Let him come—let us settle this with steel!" But Eddard cautioned, "This will not be a mere skirmish; it will decide the fate of our realm."
Amid these strategic deliberations, the idea of a knightly order lingered in the background—a quiet hope that, once the war was won, something more enduring could be built from the ashes of battle. In hushed conversations and the flicker of campfire debates, the rebels considered a future where warriors would stand not only for victory but for the protection of the common folk.
In his private moments, Hoster Tully pondered over old maps and faded documents. He recognized that while victory on the battlefield was essential, the peace that followed must be built on principles of justice and unity—a peace that the current order of lords had failed to provide.
Even in the midst of tension, there were voices of dissent and hope. A young lord from the Vale, Jon Lynderly, quietly warned that the war was far from over, with potential threats looming from the Reach and Dorne. Randyll Tarly's measured concerns and Garlan Grafton's somber reflections added layers of caution to an already complex situation.
A Future Beyond War
By the time the rebel camp settled for the night, the idea had grown from a whisper into a tangible vision. Steve's words had sown the seed of something new—a cause that went beyond the mere struggle for power. It was a call for an order of knights who would remain true to their duty, protecting the realm regardless of who sat on the throne.
As the flames of the campfire danced into the dark, each man present felt the stirring of hope. They understood that the war was not only about defeating the enemy but about building a future where the innocent would not suffer from the ambitions of tyrants. That night, as the soldiers drifted off to uneasy sleep, the vision of an order dedicated solely to the protection of the people took root in their hearts.
In the quiet moments before dawn, when the fires had dimmed and the camp was bathed in the soft light of a new day, the rebels prepared to march on. Their resolve was tempered by the hardships of the past, yet strengthened by the promise of a better future. United by a common purpose, they set their sights on the Trident and the final battle that would decide the fate of Westeros.
Steve Rogers, ever the champion of the people, knew that his journey was just beginning. Though he was content to fight without seeking glory or lordship, he believed that one day, the ideals he had shared would transform into an enduring legacy—a brotherhood of knights committed to protecting the realm long after the war was over.
As the first light of dawn crept over the horizon, the rebel camp stirred with quiet determination. Banners fluttered in the morning breeze, and the air was filled with the murmurs of plans and dreams for a future of peace. The war had not yet ended, but in that moment, every man, knight, and lord present felt the promise of something greater—a commitment to a cause that would outlive the battles of today.
And so, as the rebel army began its final march southward, they carried not only the burden of war but also the bright hope of a new order—a vision of sentinels who would stand as guardians of the realm, unyielding as steel and bound by honor.
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