Chapter 6: On the Road

Ten days after the royal party left, I was finally confident in Bran’s survival and safety.

Jon and I set out, Togo and Ghost in tow. On our breaks I worked on improving Ghost and Shadowfax, a grey gelding I was given by Hullen at Lord Stark’s order so that Jon might have something to ride. I had named him after Gandalf’s steed. Geeky, I know, but the coloring was right and by the time I was done with him Shadowfax would be every bit worthy of his name.

We had been on the road for some seven weeks, the royal party closer to two months when we finally met up with them again. Travelling with a full supply chain, servants, wheelhouse and with guests riding to pay court to the king at every stop the Royal party was averaging a fairly respectable fifteen to twenty miles a day. Jon and I could easily do double that, but took our time seeing the local sights, stopping for a couple days a week so that we could rest, hunt for more supplies, practice our combat, and so that I could bond with the land.

I picked up a lot of lands on our journey. Two Greens, in the woods near the Barrowlands and the Neck. Two Whites, from Moat Cailin and the Kingsroad. A Black, also from Moat Cailin. But the biggest gains were in Blue; one from the White Knife River, two from the Bite which was a bay near to Greywater Watch, and two more while travelling along the Green Fork of the Trident. The extra power was useful to speed Ghost and Shadowfax’ transformations; I was thinking of offering similar services to Jon himself when I finished with his mount and companion.

While working on Ghost I had noticed something interesting; a mystical bond between him and Jon. I found out from Jon that he often dreamed of being Ghost, and concluded that it was the beginning of a Warg bond. As interesting as the local magic was though I had no desire to risk myself with such a linking, and cautioned Jon not to throw himself into magical experimentation willy-nilly.

Finally, after all that time travelling, we were approaching the royal party. After talking to some merchants headed north, we found out that the king, accompanied by Lord Stark and the two Stark girls, was likely at the Crossroads Inn and would cross over to continue south towards King’s Landing the next day.

Before we met them at the inn, however, I wanted to check the Ruby Ford. Hopefully the resonance there of revolution and battle and the death of a tyrant prince would mean that the site would be a source of Red mana, something I was finding to be rarer than I would like considering it was my primary fuel for blasting type spells. Beyond that, the Ford was a historical site, and worth visiting as a tourist. Given our relative closeness and the fact that travel took so much time, it would be a shame to miss it only to spend more time with the travelling circus that was the king’s court while on the road.

As we approached, we heard screaming then a boy with blood on his face ran out from the brush followed by a richly outfitted horse.

“On, Aethon!” I cried as the horse lurched forward, covering the distance in a sprint. We arrived just in time to see Joffrey approaching Arya with his sword in hand. She had been forced back, pinned to a tree without the ability to run. Sansa was in the background, screaming like a useless twit. I reached for my bow, knowing I couldn’t cover the distance quickly enough even with Aethon, fearful that I’d be too slow.

Joffrey’s sword came up, winding back for a mighty blow.

My arrow was nocked as I drew.

Then Nymeria, Arya’s direwolf, was there, her jaws tearing at his arm as she bowled the golden turd over and knocked his sword flying. I held up my hand to stop Jon from interfering as Arya called off her wolf and picked up Joffrey’s sword. She looked at it, at him laying on the ground.

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“Don’t touch me!” Joffrey yelled, sobbing. “I’ll, I’ll tell my mother!”

Wow. What a fucking brat. I remember when I was fourteen, and I was far tougher even coming from a soft, modern background.

“Stop it, Arya! Leave him alone!” Sansa yelled.

I could see the disgust in Arya’s eyes, and couldn’t tell if it was aimed at that pile of excrement called Joffrey, or at Sansa for defending him. Arya spun, tossing the sword with the full force of her body behind it. It spun, glistening through the air before it landed in the river. I felt like laughing at the symbolism, another tyrant of a prince meeting defeat at the Ruby Ford.

Arya stormed over to her horse, mounted up and left in a huff with her Nymeria following.

“Jon, go after her. See that she makes her way to Lord Stark immediately, and make sure she eats something,” I instructed. According to Mom, pissed off kids just lacked sufficiently frequent snacks and naps; as silly as it was, her tactics worked and I thought it would be better if Arya’s blood sugar was topped off before any continuing conflict. “Togo, go with them and see them safe.”

Jon nodded and took off, Ghost following. Riding Shadowfax he’d have no issues catching her. Togo looked up at me.

“Yes, I’m sure I can deal with the brats on my own. I’m more worried for Arya,” I said.

Togo snorted in agreement, then took off after Arya and Jon.

I went along at a walk as Sansa tried to comfort Joffrey. “Oh Joffrey,” she wept. “Oh, look what they did to you, look what they did! My sweet prince, I’ll be off right away to bring help.”

What was that girl thinking. Obviously the prideful turd wouldn’t want people to see him in that state. The little psycho, like many of his breed, had a strong desire for control and domination. I wouldn’t be surprised if he ended up working his way through everyone that saw him in this state; Sansa was certainly on the list from how he was looking at her.

He glared at her with poisonous, wicked intent.

“Go,” he spit at her. “But don’t touch me.”

“That won’t be necessary,” I called out. They hadn’t noticed my approach, too preoccupied with their own bullshit, and started.

“Ser Odysseus,” Sansa greeted, stammering.

“Gods’ sakes, girl. You can call me Odysseus, or just Odds like always,” I said. She didn’t seem to know what to say to that. “And you, Prince Joffrey. Would you rather an escort back to your parents? Or should I treat the injury myself?”

“I am quite well enough to get back to the King and Queen myself,” he said, suddenly haughty and arrogant once more. “Simply give me your horse and I’ll be on my way.”

I looked down at Aethon, then up at Joffrey and just shook my head. “You can try approaching him, but Aethon’s a willful and dangerous fellow. If he doesn’t take to you and you try to ride him he’s liable to take your head off. And that’s the last damned thing I need today. I guess it’s maybe seven or eight miles as the crow flies back to your parents; you could walk it in two-three hours. Or ride with Lady Sansa.”

“The last thing I want to do is ride next to one of you northern Stark savages,” he hissed. “Can’t you see what that beast did to me!”

It really wasn’t that bad. Some scratches, a few shallow scraping bites. Nymeria was harsh, but not savage. My dogs back on earth had once gotten into it after the larger got sick of the smaller one bullying him. The fight lasted all of a few seconds, and smaller needed something like a hundred fucking stitches after. Joffrey was fine, and a damned sight better than he’d be with one of my arrows through his chest.

“Don’t you want to be a warrior like your father someday? Believe me, if you’re the sort to make any kind of success of yourself at fighting then you’ll end up looking back at these scratches and laughing,” I said.

“Sansa, ride with him. I’ll take the other horse,” the prick stated, changing the subject and ignoring that the “other” horse was Sansa’s.

He was really an amazing piece of work.

“Of course, my Prince,” Sansa simpered. Seriously, the girl was basically a walking, talking example as to what feminists hated. Hell, even Aethon was rolling his eyes at her, and for all his intelligence he was a fucking horse.

But with Joffrey on Sansa’s horse, and Sansa behind me, we set off. I set a slow pace through the forest, leaving plenty of time for Jon to get Arya and find Lord Stark before we arrived.

Fucking Joffrey. I never got to bind the Ford.