Arthur woke slowly to the light filtering through the canvas of his tent. He sat up on his pallet, stretching his arms above his head until his shoulders popped, then rubbed the sleep from his eyes with the heels of his palms.
He let out a sigh.
Yesterday was difficult in a number of ways. The rowdy feast in the barn, the discovery of the beaten woman and her son, the confrontation with those two drunken Goldcloaks and the way their comrades had laughed it off. He hoped today would go better, that the flogging Handsome had promised would actually happen and that the strange tension hanging over the village might ease.
As he stretched some more he decided he would visit the boy and his mother at some point during the day to make sure she was well. Though he imagined that with what had happened to her she was not recovering quickly, her body and spirit were no doubt both battered. Still, the herbal tea and the push of his Hamon should have helped her through the worst of the fever.
He rose and dressed quickly, pulling on his padded gambeson first, then the chainmail hauberk. The gold cloak came last, pinned at the shoulder with a simple iron brooch. He buckled his sword belt around his waist, checked that his boots were laced tight, and splashed water from a small basin over his face to chase away the last traces of drowsiness and with one last look around the sparse tent, he stepped outside into the morning sun.
He had barely taken a dozen steps toward the village path when the quartermaster appeared from behind a supply wagon, his ledger tucked under one arm and his face set in its usual sour expression. The man raised a hand to intercept him. "Hold there, recruit. The Serjeant wants to see you right away. Said to send you straight over to the barn."
Arthur nodded without hesitation. "Of course. Thank you for letting me know."
The quartermaster grunted and turned away, already muttering about another task on his list. Arthur adjusted his cloak and headed toward the barn. A few Goldcloaks milling about gave him dirty looks as he passed but he ignored them, keeping his gaze forward. He had done nothing wrong in his eyes, only what justice demanded and he would not let their resentment rattle him.
Inside the barn the atmosphere was already lively with the clatter of plates and the murmur of conversation. Serjeant Handsome spotted him immediately and waved him over with a broad grin that lit up his face. "Arthur, my lad! Come sit down and break your fast with us. Plenty of room at the table for a fellow like you."
Arthur crossed the room and took the offered seat, the wooden bench creaking under his weight. Handsome slid a plate across to him loaded with thick slices of bread, a wedge of cheese, and strips of pork still warm from the skillet. A mug of watered ale followed right after. "Eat up, lad. You will need your strength for the day ahead."
Arthur accepted the food with a polite nod. "Thank you, Serjeant. This looks excellent." He took a bite of the bread and gave him a small ide smile, though in truth he remained a bit suspicious of the man.
Handsome's cheer felt too easy, and if he was being truthful the man reminded him of Willem when they first met. Arthur could not quite shake the feeling that something deeper lurked beneath the jovial mask.
Handsome leaned back in his chair with his tankard in hand and smiled warmly. "So tell me, how did you sleep? That tent of yours is not the finest lodging in the realm, but it keeps the rain off well enough."
Arthur swallowed his mouthful before replying. "Well enough, Serjeant. The pallet snd bedroll was comfortable and the night was quiet once things settled."
"Quiet is good around here," Handsome said with a chuckle, taking a long pull from his mug. "Some nights the lads get a bit loud after a few drinks, but last night they turned in early... I'm sure you know why. How are you finding the village so far? The people treating you right?"
Arthur chose his words carefully. "The village seems peaceful enough on the surface, though the folk are a bit reserved. I suppose that is natural with the bandit troubles hanging over them."
Handsome nodded sagely, his eyes twinkling. "Reserved is putting it mildly. They have had a rough time of it, poor souls. But we are here to change that, are we not? Speaking of which, I hoped we could track down those bandits today or at least get a solid lead for the lads to follow up on. You mentioned yesterday that you have some tracking skills. Think you could put them to use for us?"
Arthur met his gaze. "I would be happy to help in any way I can, Serjeant. Tracking is one of the things I do well."
"Excellent!" Handsome clapped his hands together once. "That is the spirit. I knew I liked you for a reason." He gestured to three men sitting nearby who had been watching the exchange. "Come over here, you three. Meet Arthur, the lad from the city who is going to help us sort this mess."
The three Goldcloaks approached, their boots scuffing the straw covered floor. The first was a stocky man with a scarred cheek named Garrick, the second a lanky fellow called Tomas with a perpetual scowl, and the third a broad shouldered brute by the name of Willem. Arthur smiled and extended his hand in greeting. "Arthur of Harrowfield. It is good to meet you all. I look forward to working together." Though he couldn't help but frown slightly at the one called Willem.
Garrick shook his hand briefly. "Garrick. Likewise."
Tomas gave a short nod without touching his hand. "Tomas."
Willem grunted, his handshake more like a vice. "Willem."
Handsome either did not notice the chill in their voices or chose not to care, waving them off with a laugh. "Now, now, lads. Play nice. Your orders are simple. Ride out immediately and follow any leads Arthur finds. Stick together, watch each others backs, and if you spot the bandits do not engage alone. Send word back here and we will bring the full force down on them. Clear?"
The three men muttered their assent, and Handsome slapped Arthur on the shoulder. "Off you go then. The sooner we start, the sooner we end this."
They left the barn together and made their way to the horse lines where grooms had already saddled four mounts. Arthur swung up onto his bay gelding, adjusting the reins while the others mounted in silence. As they rode out of the camp and onto the open road leading north, Arthur broke the quiet. "Which direction were the bandits last seen? Any specific trail or sighting that might help narrow it down?"
Garrick answered curtly from the lead position. "Northwest, toward the old wood. That is all we know."
Arthur nodded and urged his horse forward, the group falling into a formation around him. As they traveled the landscape opened up into rolling hills dotted with trees.
When they arrived there, Arthur did not have much trouble finding the tracks. His skill as high as it was easily let him spot signs that were days or even weeks old. Luckily these ones were only a few days old, clear enough for him to follow without constant dismounting.
He pointed them out as they went. "Here, see the broken branch? Someone passed through, and the prints are deeper, suggesting a group on foot carrying something."
The men barely glanced, Tomas replying with a single word. "Noted."
Arthur tried again after another mile. "The tracks split here but reconverge ahead. They are being careful, circling back once or twice to throw off pursuit."
Willem grunted without looking at him. "Keep moving."
Arthur frowned at the tone he had spoken with but didn't comment and instead continued onwards.
The situation grew weirder with every passing hour. Every time Arthur tried to talk to them or update them on the tracks they either did not reply or were curt with him, their responses were like they resented his very presence. Arthur narrowed it down to what he did to their friends the night before, the two he had beaten and unmanned for raping the woman. It seems these men were loyal to their comrades no matter the crime. He kept his suspicions to himself, focusing instead on the trail.
They continued on for hours, the sun climbing higher and warming the air until sweat prickled under Arthur's mail. Finally he reined in and studied the ground ahead. "We must be close. There are a lot of fresh tracks in the area now maybe within the last few hours."
The three men exchanged quick glances but said nothing. Arthur felt a really bad feeling settle in his gut, an instinctive warning that made the hairs on his neck rise. Listening to his gut he dove off his horse just as a crossbow bolt whistled through the air and slammed into the animal's flank. The horse screamed and kicked wildly, bucking in pain before running away.
Arthur rolled out of the way across the dirt, coming up in a crouch only for another bolt to thud into the ground nearly hitting his head. "What in the seven hells are you doing?" He shouted as a scowl formed on his face.
One of the men, Tomas, was already reloading his crossbow while the others dismounted, Garrick drawing his sword with a scrape of steel. "We have a good thing going here. We are not going to let a little shit like you ruin it."
Arthur drew his own blade, his heart pounding as the reality sank in. They were turning on him, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised, but he couldn't help but wonder why men loyal to the King would do this.
Arthur approached Garrick with his sword drawn and Garrick lunged forward with a heavy overhead chop that Arthur parried and redirected. At the same time he kept half an eye on the crossbowmen, dodging sideways as Tomas fired again, the bolt whistling past his leg. Willem circled to flank him, loading another bolt while shouting to Garrick.
The clash of steel filled the clearing as Arthur pressed the attack on Garrick, feinting high then sweeping low to nick the man's thigh. Blood welled but Garrick roared and came on harder. Arthur twisted inside the next swing, slamming a fist into the man's jaw that staggered him, then spun away as a bolt from Willem zipped by.
It took a little longer than he wanted, due to the fact he had to keep an eye on the others but eventually he finally disarmed Garrick with a twist of his wrist, sending the sword flying, then drove his own blade through the man's chest in a clean thrust. Garrick gasped as his eyes widened before he crumpled to the ground.
The remaining two cursed and fired together this time. Arthur was exposed for a split second, the bolts streaking toward his head and torso, one would go wide but the other would hit him in the head.
[The World]
In that moment he activated The World, the world froze around him perfectly. The crossbow bolt aimed at his skull hung suspended in midair and Arthur was able to turn his head slightly to the left, turning what would have been a fatal strike into one that merely grazed his helmet.
"Useless fucking thing!" Tomas growled.
He charged the other two before they could react, closing the distance in a rush. He avoided one bolt by ducking, but the second slammed into his shoulder, punching through the mail links and drawing a hot line of pain. Arthur ignored it, slamming into Willem and driving his sword up under the man's ribs. Willem gurgled and fell. Tomas dropped his crossbow and tried to flee but Arthur was faster, tackling him to the ground and ending the struggle with a swift slash across the throat.
Breathing hard with blood trickling down his arm, Arthur took a moment to compose himself while wiping his blade on the grass. Though it seemed he wasn't done yet as a few more arrows whistled in from the trees, thudding into the earth around him. He brought his sword up just as a bunch of rough looking people, many of them injured with bandages and limps, emerged from the undergrowth and surrounded him.
Arthur held his ground ready to fight if they came at him. However the leader of the men, a grizzled fellow with a missing ear, halted them with a raised hand. "Hold! Everyone lower your bows." He stepped forward, eyes narrowing at Arthur. "Why did you kill those men? They were Goldcloaks, same as you."
Arthur kept his sword raised but answered clearly. "Yesterday I punished and unmanned two of their fellow Goldcloaks for the crime of rape. These three then tried to kill me in retaliation I imagine m."
The leader hesitated, studying Arthur's face and the bodies on the ground. "Are you one of the men with Serjeant Handor?"
Arthur shook his head. "I am not. I was sent here by the city to deliver a message and to assist in rounding up the bandits in the area."
The man paused for a long moment, his gaze flicking between Arthur and his wounded followers. Finally he lowered his own weapon and gestured to the others. "Put your weapons down, all of you. He is not with them." The man then walked forward. He offered Arthur a cautious nod. "Come to our camp. We can treat that wound and talk properly."
Arthur hesitated for a moment, weighing the offer against the risk, but the pain in his shoulder and the sincerity in the man's voice tipped the balance. "I agree. Lead the way."
The group moved quickly through the trees, gathering the remaining horses that had scattered during the fight. Arthur helped calm one of the panicked mounts while two of the peasants caught the others by their reins. The animals were skittish but cooperative once the immediate danger passed. With everyone mounted or walking alongside, the column set off deeper into the woods.
Arthur rode in silence, his wounded shoulder throbbing with each step of the horse, but he kept his eyes alert and in the people surrounding him. He could feel the wary glances from the peasants around him, yet no one spoke until the trees finally thinned and a rough looking camp came into view.
It was little more than a scattering of makeshift shelters woven from branches and tattered canvas, huddled in a small clearing beside a stream. Maybe two or three dozen men and women moved about the space, all of them looked to be starving and injured.
One of the men stepped forward to take Arthur's horse as soon as they dismounted. The fellow gave him a dirty look, his lips pressed into a thin line, but Arthur ignored it and handed over the reins without comment. Another peasant reached for the sword at Arthur's hip, clearly intending to disarm him. Arthur's hand shot out and grabbed the man's wrist, stopping it dead in mid motion. "I will not be giving up my weapon," Arthur said firmly carrying an edge that left no room for argument.
The man tried to pull his arm free, straining with all his strength, but Arthur held him motionless. The other peasants nearby grew angry at once, several stepping forward.
"He thinks he has power here?"
"Take the blade, Jory!"
"This is a fucking Goldcloak we should kill him!"
"Kill him!"
Before the situation could escalate further the leader of the group raised his voice. "Stop this at once! All of you back away. He is not with Serjeant Handor. Any bad blood we have is not with him. Lower your hands and show some sense."
The men hesitated, then slowly retreated, grumbling under their breath. As they shot dirty looks towards Arthur, though some showed the humility to look guilty.
The leader turned to Arthur with an apologetic nod. "Forgive them. They have learned to fear anyone in that cloak. Come, let us get that wound tended before it festers."
Arthur met the man's eyes. "I have waited long enough already. Let us talk while it is being dressed. I need answers and I need them now."
The leader raised both hands in a calming gesture. "Fair enough. We can do both at the same time. No tricks, I swear it. Follow me to the fire."
Arthur remained dubious, but he gave a short nod. While the others were distracted he reached silently into his inventory and equipped the hidden blade beneath his bracer, feeling the reassuring weight settle against his forearm. If this turned sour he would not be caught defenseless. Together they walked to the central campfire where a thin watered stew bubbled in a battered pot.
Arthur sat on a fallen log and began removing his mail and gambeson carefully. The shoulder wound was deep, a clean puncture that still seeped blood, but with a little rest and an application of Hamon he knew he could heal it in a few days.
One of the women approached at the leader's request. She was middle aged with kind eyes despite the exhaustion etched into her face. She knelt beside Arthur and examined the injury. "This will need cleaning and a tight bandage. I have clean linen and some salve made from yarrow. It should hold until the bleeding stops."
Arthur offered her a grateful smile. "Thank you. I appreciate your care."
She worked quickjly wiping the wound clean and wrapping it snugly while the leader settled across from Arthur. The fire crackled softly between them. "My name is Harlan," the man said at last, extending a calloused hand. "Harlan of Littlestow. And you are?"
"Arthur of Harrowfield," Arthur replied, clasping the offered hand firmly.
Harlan gave a weary chuckle. "Well met, Arthur of Harrowfield, you must be hungry after such a long ride and a fight. We do not have much, but the stew is hot and you are welcome to a bowl."
Arthur shook his head politely. "The only thing I want right now is answers. Food can wait."
Harlan studied him for a long moment, then nodded slowly. "Fair enough.... I suppose must look at us and think we are a sorry bunch of bandits down on their luck. Starving, beaten, hiding in the woods like animals."
"It crossed my mind, but I would imagine bandits would be far less accommodating than this," Arthur replied as he looked at the fire. "So why don't you begin with telling me who you are, if you are not the bandits I thought you were."
Harlan gave a short, bitter chuckle and stared into the flames for a minute before he spoke again. "We are from Littlestow. The very village you just came from. We are not bandits. There never were any bandits, not in the way you have been told."
After a moment Harlan let out a sigh before he looked at Arthur. "Serjeant Handor and his Goldcloaks were tasked with keeping order in the surrounding villages around King's Landing because there is no lord to hold these lands, and therefore no lord to protect them."
"Handor took advantage of it from the very first day. He levied taxes on us that grew heavier each month. He stole our grain, our livestock, anything he fancied. He and his men raped our women and threatened to put the entire village to the sword if anyone ever spoke a word against them. We endured it for as long as we could, but one day we simply could not take it anymore."
"A few of us tried to fight back.... But we had no training and almost no proper weapons and they were all armed and armored. It was a slaughter. Those of us who survived had to run and for the past few months we have been attacking and running, trying to pick them off one by one, but as you can see it has not gone well. We are dying out here."
Arthur took it all in, every word. While he tried to be critical of the story he could not help but find himself believing the man. The pieces fit too neatly with what he had already witnessed. If they were truly bandits why would they stay in this area so close to King's Landing? It was asking for trouble.
Yet something still held him back.
After what had happened to him in King's Landing he did not want to be tricked again. "I want to believe you," Arthur said carefully, "but I need more than a story. I need proof."
Harlan did not look surprised or offended, instead he leaned forward. "Serjeant Handor keeps a chest with him at all times. Inside it is all the silver and copper he has taken from us. There is also a necklace of the Mother which he tore from my wife's neck it's made of silver. Go back and look inside that chest. You will know I speak the truth when you sea it."
Arthur stopped for a moment. Then he asked, "I met a boy in the village. He has a Dornish mother. What is his name?" Coming up with a quick test.
Harlan's eyes widened and he grabbed Arthur's arm with sudden urgency. "You saw Ben? Tell me, is he well? And his mother, my wife, is she safe? Please, I have to know."
Arthur settled the man with a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Ben is fine. I saw him just yesterday. He was scared but unharmed. As for your wife, I must apologize. When I found her she was badly beaten and she had been raped. But I did my best to treat her. I showed your son a herbal tincture he could use to bring down her fever. I am confident she will be okay."
Harlan's eyes filled with tears and his voice cracked as he spoke. "Thank you. From the bottom of my heart, thank you. I thought I had lost them both."
Arthur shook his head. "I only did what any man should have done."
After a moment Arthur stood and began pulling his gambeson and mail back on. Harlan watched him with growing concern. "Where are you going?"
Arthur finished buckling his sword belt and looked the man straight in the eye. "I am going back to the village. I am going to get the truth of this and bring those responsible to justice."
Several of the other peasants who had been listening grew riled.
"We will come with you!"
"Let's fight those bastards!"
"Kill the Goldcloaks!"
"Fight for Littlestow!"
Harlan himself stepped forward with fire in his eyes. "This is our fight too, we have more weapons and armour now and some horses we can beat them."
"No. You will not be fighting!" Arthur shouted at all of them.
The sudden command silenced everyone, confusion written plainly on every face.
"You will take one of the spare horses and ride to King's Landing. Tell the Goldcloaks there that Arthur of Harrowfield requests more men to deal with the bandit problem. If they do not listen to you then I need you to go to an orphanage in Flea Bottom and ask for someone named Mira. She will be able to get my message to the right person," Arthur instructed them.
Angry murmurs broke out again, mixed now with bewilderment. Harlan shook his head. "This is our home Arthur. We want to fight for it. We have bled for it already."
"With all due respect to you, Goodman Harlan, that is not your job."
The words hung in the air and silenced every voice. Arthur pressed on. "You have the right to live freely on this land and work it for both yourself and the realm. But you have been failed. You should have been protected by those who have taken advantage of you."
"I cannot in good conscience allow you to risk your lives any more than you already have, even if you offer them voluntarily. I will go to Serjeant Handor and give him the option to give himself up to the King's justice. If he does not, then I will arrest him."
Some of the peasants started to protest again, but Arthur raised a hand and interrupted them firmly. "Before I do so I will ensure that everyone left in the village leaves safely so he cannot use them as hostages. That is where I expect you to welcome them and hide them until the other Goldcloaks arrive."
Harlan stared at him, still struggling to accept the plan. "If that is your plan, why not hide with us? We can stay safe until help comes."
Arthur hesitated for a moment as he listened to the man's words. It was the smarter choice and it would be the one that would be safest, but he then remembered Ser Duncan's words as clearly as if the big knight stood beside him.
*You may not have taken the Knight's Oath, but I expect you to conduct yourself as a man who has.*
He met Harlan's eyes without flinching. "Because that is not what I have been charged with doing."
He finished readying his horse, swung into the saddle, and looked down at the gathered faces. "When you have everyone take them and move fast toward the city. Try to meet the Goldcloaks halfway. Do not wait for me. Go now." Arthur turned the horse and urged it forward, riding away from the camp without looking back.
_____________________________________
Serjeant Handsome lounged in the barn with his feet propped up on a table, a tankard of ale balanced precariously on his knee as he picked at his teeth with a splintered twig. Around him the other Goldcloaks reveled in their usual manner, drinking deeply from overflowing mugs and tearing into hunks of bread and meat with greasy fingers.
Meanwhile Ben stood rigidly at Handsome's side, forced into the role of cup bearer, his small hands clutching a jug of wine that trembled slightly with fury. The boy's face was a mask of rage, his knuckles white around the handle as he stared at the floor, avoiding the eyes of the men around him.
Handsome glanced at Ben with a lazy smile. "You know, boy, I am a generous man. Truly, I am. Me and my boys here, we are much better than real bandits. Oh, we take what we need, sure, but we do not burn villages to the ground or string up children for sport. No, we are civilized about it. Real bandits, now, they would have done far worse to your mother. They would have passed her around like a wineskin until she begged for death, then slit her throat and left her for the crows. And you? They would have sold you to some Essosi slaver or worse, made you watch it all first. But us? We are protectors. We keep the peace. You should be grateful."
Ben's jaw clenched, his eyes burning with unspoken hatred as he held the jug, refusing to pour without being ordered.
The quartermaster, standing nearby with arms crossed noticed the boy's defiance and stepped forward with a scowl. "Show some respect, whelp. Bow your head when the Serjeant speaks to you, or I will teach you manners with my belt."
Handsome just laughed waving the quartermaster off with a casual flick of his hand. "Easy there. The boy will learn one day. They all do, sooner or later. Life has a way of grinding that fire out of you."
He turned back to Ben. "Speaking of learning, what did you tell that new lad, Arthur? The one who wandered in here like he owned the place. Were you running your mouth to him? Spilling secrets about how things really work around here?"
Ben met his gaze for the first time, his voice steady despite the fear flickering in his eyes. "I did not say anything. Nothing at all."
Handsome's smile faded, his expression turning dark in an instant, leaning forward until his face was inches from the boy's. "You had better not be lying to me, boy. If I find out you whispered even a word, I will make sure your mother pays for it. And then you. I will string you up by your ankles and let the crows peck out your eyes while you scream. Do you understand me?"
Ben swallowed hard but nodded mutely, his rage simmering just beneath the surface.
The quartermaster shifted uncomfortably and cleared his throat. "What about Arthur himself? The lads should have dealt with him by now, right?"
Handsome leaned back, his grin returning as he took a swig from his tankard. "He should be dealt with, yes. The boys will leave his body in the woods and we can blame it on the bandits. Simple as that."
This upset Ben visibly, his face paling as the implications sank in, the jug shaking in his hands. He could not stand it any longer. In a burst of desperation he dropped the jug and lunged for a knife left on the table, his small fingers closing around the hilt. But Handsome was faster. He grabbed the boy's hand in a vise like grip and slammed his head into the table with a resounding crack that silenced the room for a split second.
Ben cried out in pain, blood trickling from his forehead, but Handsome just laughed again, yanking him up by the collar and throwing him over the table like a rag doll. The boy crashed to the floor amid spilled mugs and scattered plates. "Teach him a lesson, lads. Make sure he remembers who runs this place."
Several Goldcloaks rose with eager grins, cracking their knuckles as they advanced on the dazed boy. Laughter erupted anew as the first man hauled Ben up by his shirt and punched him in the gut doubling him over.
Another kicked his legs out from under him, sending him sprawling, while a third aimed a boot at his ribs. Ben curled into a ball, gasping and crying out with each blow.
Then the door burst open with a thunderous crash. "Let the boy go now!" Arthur called out to all of them as he walked in.
The room froze with every eye turning to the entrance where Arthur stood framed in the doorway, his face a mask of fury. The Goldcloaks paused in mid strike, their laughter dying in their throats as they took in the sight of him.
Arthur strode forward without hesitation, shoving aside a stunned man who blocked his path. He reached Ben in three long steps, kneeling to check on the boy. Ben was bruised and bleeding, one eye swelling shut, but he was conscious. "Are you alright? Can you stand?"
Ben nodded weakly, clutching Arthur's arm. "It hurts, but I'm okay."
Arthur helped him to his feet, positioning himself protectively between the boy and the Goldcloaks. He eyed them coldly, noting how many were out of their armor and how many were geared up and ready to fight.
Handsome recovered first, plastering on his warm welcome with a broad smile as he rose from his chair. "Arthur! Back so soon? We thought you might be out longer on that scout. Come in, come in. Have a seat and tell us how it went. The bandits must have given you quite the runaround, eh?"
Arthur did not buy it for a second. "Save the act, Serjeant. You stand accused of extortion, theft, rape, and murder. You have abused your position and terrorized these people for your own gain. Surrender now and prepare to be taken to King's Landing where you will face the King's justice."
The smile melted off Handsome's face like wax under flame, replaced by a sneer of annoyance. "You are an idiot, boy. A complete fool. You could have had a good thing here. Coin in your pockets, women whenever you wanted, respect from the men. But no, you had to play the hero. What do you think this is, some bard's tale?"
Arthur shook his head firmly. "What you are doing here is wrong. It ends today."
Handsome's eyes narrowed. "Wrong? There is no such thing as right or wrong. It is all opinions, do you not see? A king can declare war and slaughter thousands, and it is called glory. He can tax his people to starvation and call it law. So why can I not do the same? I determine what is right here because I have the power to enforce it."
Arthur rejected that outright. "No. There is duty and there is justice that goes beyond Kings. You have twisted your duty into tyranny. You will be punished for your crimes. The Goldcloaks are coming from the city as we speak."
Handsome threw back his head and laughed, a cold mocking sound that echoed through the barn. "The Goldcloaks? From the city? I suppose I'll just slaughter everyone here long before they arrive. Blame it on the bandits, just like we planned for you. Lads, kill this fool and then finish the boy. Make it painful."
Arthur whirled to Ben. "Run now! Get to the tree line. That is where your father is waiting. Go!"
The boy bolted for the door, but three Goldcloaks moved to intercept. Arthur rushed them like a storm, barging his shoulder into the first man's chest and sending him crashing back into a table. The second swung a fist, but Arthur redirected the punch straight into the third man who tried to grab him for him. Arthur then ran forward grabbing Ben and pushing him out before he slammed the door closed holding it closed for a precious few seconds while they slammed against it from inside.
"GO NOW!" Arthur shouted at Ben who ran across the village.
A blade punched through the wood near his head, splintering the plank. Arthur drew his sword fully, letting go and jumping forward just as the door burst open. He spun on his heel and slashed in an arc, the blade catching the first man through the doorway across the chest, parting mail links and flesh in a spray of blood. The Goldcloak screamed and fell, clutching the wound.
They poured out after him into the muddy yard, a dozen strong, some armored, others scrambling for weapons. Arthur channeled Hamon through his breaths, the energy rippling across his muscles, strengthening his limbs and sharpening his senses. He met the charge head on, parrying a wild sword swing from a burly man in half plate. He riposted with a thrust that pierced the man's gorget, dropping him gurgling to the mud.
Two more came at once after thst, one with a sword, the other a mace. Arthur sidestepped the sword thrust, using the momentum to shove the attacker into his companion, then flicked his hidden blade free and slashed across the mace wielder's exposed throat as he stumbled. Blood fountained, and the man collapsed clutching his neck. The swordsman recovered and lunged again, but Arthur blocked high, kicked low to buckle the man's knee, then drove his sword down through the collarbone.
The environment turned against him as more joined the fray. Mud sucked at his boots making footwork a lot harder. A chainmailed Goldcloak charged with a spear thrusting at him. Arthur twisted aside, but the tip grazed his thigh, drawing blood. He retaliated by grabbing the spear shaft and yanking the man forward into a headbutt that crumpled his nose. As the spearman reeled, Arthur stabbed him through the eye slit of his helmet.
Five more closed in all in full armour. Arthur parried one, dodged another, but a club glanced off his a shoulder, numbing his arm. He killed another with a hidden blade to the groin as the man overcommitted, but the numbers eventually won out. A mace swing from behind caught his helmet with a ringing blow, stars exploding in his vision as he staggered into the mud.
As he tried to rise, a boot slammed into his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. Handsome loomed over him, kicking again with vicious force. "You clever little bastard. Getting the villagers to quietly leave while you played hero. But I will find them. I will kill them the same way I will kill you. Slowly, painfully, until you beg."
Handsome brought his sword up high, the blade glinting in the torchlight, and swung it down with all his might.
[The World]
Time froze in an instant, the sword halted mid arc like a statue.
Arthur had wisely decided to raise his magic to three before entering the village, extending his time stop to one point five seconds. It was enough to move properly in the stopped time world.
Because of it he rolled away smoothly and just out of reach. When time resumed the blade buried itself in the mud where his head had been. Arthur rolled back, pinning Handsome's sword arm with his boot before shoving his hidden blade toward the man's neck. The reach fell short, the Valyrian steel carving only a shallow gash across the throat that welled blood but did not kill.
Handsome jumped back with a yelp, hand clamping over the wound. "You fucking freak! What sorcery is this? I will gut you like a fish!"
*Thud*
Arthur ignored the rant, equipping Sunset from his inventory which made the watching Goldcloaks gasp and murmur in fear.
*Thud*
*Thud*
The orange hued blade gleamed unnaturally as it reflected the sun, spooking them further. He pointed it at Handsome. "It is over, even if you kill me."
*Thud*
*Thud*
Handsome's face twisted in childish rage, spittle flying as he cursed. "Shut your mouth, you upstart shit! I will have your head on a pike! Lads, kill him now!"
But the Goldcloaks were not paying attention, their weapons half raised as they stared past Arthur.
*Thud*
*Thud*
*Thud*
Hoofbeats thundered from the tree line, growing louder until Ser Duncan the Tall burst into view on a massive destrier, flanked by a dozen mounted Goldcloaks.
Handsome cursed more viciously, his face purple with fury. "Seven hells! Fight, you cowards! They will hang us all if you do not fight! Charge them!"
The snap in his voice broke their stupor, and the quartermaster urged them forward with a bellow. "You heard him! For our lives!"
The yard erupted into battle as Duncan and his men dismounted and met the charge. Despite his age Duncan moved like a force of nature. He parried two swords at once then cleaved through one man's helmet in a single overhead strike that split steel and skull alike. A spear thrust came at him from the side, but he sidestepped with surprising agility for his size, grabbing the shaft and yanking the wielder forward into a fist that shattered the man's face. His sword flashed again, disemboweling another attacker in a spray of blood.
Arthur was snapped out of his aw when he saw Handsome try to run amid the chaos, slipping toward the shadows at the barn's edge. He charged after him, barging through two Goldcloaks who tried to block his path, shoulder checking one into the mud and slashing the other's arm to the bone. Handsome glanced back, his eyes widening in fear and broke into a sprint, but Arthur was faster.
He tackled the man from behind, both crashing into the mud in a tangle of limbs. They rolled across the mud, Handsome snarling and punching wildly. Arthur took a blow to the jaw but mounted him, pinning his arms with his knees. He punched down relentlessly. Handsome's nose shattered, then his cheekbone caved. Teeth flew in white shards out of his mouth until the man went limp.
Arthur sat there for a moment before he stood up still panting. He flinched when a large hand touched his shoulder. He spun with his fists raised but relaxed at the sight of Ser Duncan. "You have done well, Arthur," the Lord Commander said. "Take a moment now while we clear up this mess."
Arthur nodded, moving off to the side as the last of the corrupt Goldcloaks were subdued or slain. The yard fell quiet save for the groans of the wounded.
_____________________________________
Arthur sat alone by the crackling fire as nightfall settled over the camp. Most of the corrupt Goldcloaks had already been rounded up and marched back toward King's Landing under heavy guard. The few who remained loyal to the crown had gone with them, leaving only a small detachment behind. Duncan had decided they would camp here for the night rather than push on in the dark as he wanted a quiet word with Arthur before they returned to the city.
Arthur turned a silver necklace over in his hands. It was simple but beautiful, the Mother's face etched delicately into the pendant. The metal caught the firelight and gleamed softly. His mind drifted back to earlier that evening when Harlan had pressed it into his palm.
(Flashback)
"It is not much," Harlan said. "But it is all I have. Take it. Please."
Arthur tried to refuse at. "I cannot accept this. You need it more than I do please keep it."
Harlan would not hear it. He closed Arthur's fingers around the necklace with surprising strength. "Ben told me what those men did... what they nearly did to him. If there is anyone who deserves this, it is you. You saved him when no one else could. Keep it as a reminder that you protected the innocent."
(Flashback End)
The memory faded as Arthur slipped the necklace into his pocket. A moment later footsteps approached the fire and Arthur looked up to see Ser Duncan walking toward him. The Lord Commander had removed his armor and wore only a simple tunic and breeches. He lowered himself to the ground with a soft grunt and leaned back against a broad tree trunk, stretching his long legs toward the fire.
Duncan chuckled. "I have not had a good fight like that in ages. You would be surprised how little fighting a Kingsguard actually does once the white cloak is on your shoulders. Most days it is standing in corridors like a glorified statue."
Arthur smiled faintly still watching the flames. "I can imagine."
Duncan nodded, his gaze drifting up to the stars visible through the branches. "I cannot even remember the last time I camped under the stars. Back when I was a hedge knight I could scarcely afford a tent. Slept under my cloak more nights than I care to count.... Those were better times, in their own way."
Arthur said nothing for a long moment, letting the fire pop and hiss between them. After a while Duncan turned his head and studied him quietly. "You must have a few questions about today," he said at last.
Arthur looked up and met his eyes. "I do." Arthur had never asked for Duncan in the message he had sent. He didn't expect the man to come, and even if he did they came much too quickly for them to have come from Kingslanding.
Duncan exhaled slowly. "In truth, Arthur, I deceived you. I knew about Handor before I ever sent you to him. In fact I stopped the Goldcloaks who were supposed to be sent after him and sent you in their place instead."
Arthur stared at him, surprise flickering across his face, but he kept himself calm. "Why?"
"Because I wanted to know what kind of man you were," Duncan replied simply. "I wanted to see what you would do when you arrived here and discovered the truth. I never expected this outcome, though. Not even close."
"What did you expect?" Arthur asked.
Duncan shrugged. "Three possibilities. You would turn a blind eye and report nothing to me. You would report the truth but do nothing more. Or you would never notice anything amiss at all. Instead you tore the whole rotten thing down single handed. You put your life at risk for people you had never met before today."
"So this was a test," Arthur said quietly.
"It was," Duncan confirmed. "And you passed beyond my expectations. Never did I think you would risk everything for those villagers the way you did."
Arthur looked back at the fire. "I may not have taken the oath, but I should carry myself as a man who has."
Duncan smiled at that, a genuine warmth in his eyes. "You did well, Arthur. You have more than proved yourself worthy of being my squire. Whether you still want to be my squire or would prefer another knight is up to you. I will do my best to accommodate whatever you decide."
Arthur hesitated for a moment. The deception still stung. Part of him considered asking for another knight, someone whose methods felt more straightforward. But he pushed the thought aside. "I have a question, ser."
"Ask anything," Duncan said.
"What made you think this test was needed?"
Duncan sat up a little straighter, his expression growing more serious. "Your actions at Willem's manse."
Arthur tensed at once. His first instinct was to deny everything, but there was no point and he would not disrespect Duncan with lies. "What made my actions wrong?" he asked simply. "Willem kidnapped Mira. He tried to kill me. I was only getting justice."
Duncan did not speak for a long moment, letting the fire crackle between them. When he finally answered his almost tired. "Many men since the dawn of the First Men have been just in their actions, Arthur. And more blood has been shed than can fill these lands to your ankles. Do not confuse justice with vengeance. Those who cannot tell the difference often walk down paths they do not recognise as evil until it is too late."
Arthur frowned. "Willem was evil. He and Karl both were. They deserved death for what they did."
"What about the others?" Duncan asked quietly.
"Others?"
"In your quest for justice, were Karl and Willem the only ones who fell to you?"
Arthur did not answer at once, but when he finally spoke his voice was quieter. "No."
"From what the captain of the guard told me, nearly a dozen men were trapped in that barn and burned alive," Duncan said, his tone growing more severe.
Arthur looked down, a flicker of shame crossing his face. "It was the only way. They would have stopped me from saving Mira. They would have fought me."
"Did you give them a choice?" Duncan asked.
"I did not," Arthur admitted.
Duncan nodded slowly. "That is vengeance, Arthur. It does not only consume those you target. It consumes everyone around them and eventually yourself. Justice is the much harder road to walk, but it is the road that all true knights must tread."
Arthur recognised the folly in his own actions then. In truth he had been so consumed with thoughts of killing Willem and saving Mira he had not cared who got in his way.
"When I was a boy my knight, Ser Arlan of Pennytree, told me something," Duncan continued. "He said that it is in the hearts of men that lies what is right and just. That like any skill or muscle this must be worked and used, otherwise it will shrivel up into nothingness and in most men it shrinks to the point where it is not even there."
"Why are you telling me this?" Arthur asked.
"Because this is what makes a true knight, Arthur. Not one who fights with strength of arms or wits alone, but one who fights with his heart. One who fights for what he knows is true and just. There are too many knights in this world who take the knight's oath as a mere suggestion, something that can be ignored when it suits them. I refuse to bring another one of those knights into this world."
Arthur nodded, the lesson sinking deep. "I understand."
"Good," Duncan said, his tone lightening once more. "Because you have a lot of training to do and I will be a harder taskmaster than any other lord."
Arthur smiled and nodded.
Duncan stretched and stood. "Get some rest now. Tomorrow will be even longer than today."
Arthur agreed, watching as the big knight moved toward his own bedroll. He lay back on his cloak, staring up at the stars.
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[QUEST COMPLETED]
WHAT MAKES A KNIGHT
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Description:
Ser Duncan has assigned you a task to test what kind of knight you will be. Do not disappoint him.
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Objectives:
• Find out the truth of Littlestow and bring those responsible to justice ✅
• Help the villagers who have suffered under Handor ✅
Optional Objectives:
• Let no one innocent die ✅
Rewards:
• Familiar Gem (Horse)
• +500 XP
• Necklace of the Mother
Necklace of the Mother:
Grants protection from Darkness and can give strength when prayed upon in certain circumstances.
Failure:
• Loss of Squire Class
• Possible Death
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(AN: So there goes the mini arc. Now does anyone have any suggestions for horses. It can be any fantasy horses or horses based on mythology or history. Obviously if they're too OP I'll have to nerf them. I can't have Arthur's horse being stronger than him 🗿. Anyway I hope you enjoyed this.)
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