By the time Kartiga and his group reached the wagons, the King's grand procession was already passing by. Kartiga stood to the side, his gaze fixed on the scene before him.
Knights on horses rode ahead, their armor shining in the daylight. The wagons following them looked so luxurious—nothing like the rickety thing he would be riding in. Kartiga glanced at his own wagon, parked awkwardly to make way for the King's convoy.
He let out a small sigh, muttering, "Man, they really know how to show off."
As more wagons rolled by, one in particular caught his eye. It was surrounded by knights in heavy silver armor, clearly important. But it wasn't the kings guards or King's wagon that grabbed his attention—it was a knight with a weird helm shaped like a snarling hound. Or was it a lion? Kartiga couldn't tell.
When that wagon passed, his men bowed slightly, showing respect. Kartiga followed their lead, though his gaze stayed glued to the King's wagon.
Once the King's convoy moved on, his men started shoving their wagon back onto the road, grunting as they helped the horses get it moving. Kartiga walked over, careful to avoid the mess left behind by the King's horses.
"Ugh, gross," he muttered, stepping around a fresh pile.
He climbed into the wagon, glancing at its plain, creaky interior. A few others joined him, squeezing into the tight space.
As the wagon started moving, it didn't take long for Kartiga to feel every bump and shake. "Man, this s*cks," he thought, grabbing onto the wooden frame to keep steady.
Looking out the small opening, he couldn't help but mutter, "And they call this the best road in Westeros? Feels like my spine's gonna snap."
Kai beside him chuckled. "Forgive me, my Lord.".
Kartiga rolled his eyes but didn't argue. "Yeah, yeah… just wake me up if we hit a pothole big enough to flip us." He leaned back against the wagon wall, already dreading the rest of the trip.
Every bump the wagon hit made Kartiga's head tilt from side to side like a bobblehead. Despite the discomfort, he somehow dozed off, lulled by the monotonous jolts—until the wagon began to slow.
Blinking awake, Kartiga glanced around, noticing the others in the wagon climbing out. He followed their lead, stretching his stiff muscles as his boots hit the ground. The men around him gave a respectful bow, but Kartiga waved it off casually before walking toward the nearby riverbank.
The massive Trident River stretched before him, glinting in the fading sunlight. Off in the distance, he spotted a lonely patch of land—Quiet Isle. It looked so peaceful to him.
Behind him, his men were busy setting up camp. Kartiga turned to watch for a second, hands on his hips. Another day to Maidenpool, he thought.
He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck thinking about logistics of upcoming wars which always kept him on edge. Supplies, food, and everything else— couldn't fight a war without them, and Maidenpool, being a port city, was the perfect place to stock up. If things went as planned, the city could even become another base of operations when the fighting began.
Still, he wasn't entirely thinking about war. A tiny smile crept onto his face. Sweetwater Bathhouse. He'd heard so much about it, and he was ready for an upgrade from the "once-a-week" bucket bath routine.
"Hey, Kai," Kartiga called out as his trusted man.
"My lord?"
Kartiga yawned, stretching again. "How much longer till Maidenpool?"
"two days at most, my lord" Kai answered
Kartiga looked at the sky, watching as the sun dipped lower. Another day almost gone. He exhaled, half-talking to himself. "Feels like we're running out of time."
After a pause, he glanced at Kai again. "You think it was the right call to leave the inn?"
Kai nodded without hesitation. "Yes. It's safer for you, my lord."
Kartiga tilted his head, frowning a little. "Yeah, I get it… but I still want to meet b*tch queen thou."
Kai didn't respond immediately, but his faint smirk didn't go unnoticed.
------------------------------
King's Landing
The forge was dim, lit only by a few candles. On the ground lay an old blacksmith, barely conscious, his breaths weak. His apprentice, a fifteen-year-old boy, struggled in the grip of a black-clad man whose face was hidden by wrapping black cloth.
"Le me go!" the boy tried to shout, his voice breaking with fear. He thrashed, but the man holding him was unyielding.
Another figure, equally silent and dressed in black, stepped forward. He held a small patch of cloth and a pouch. Without a word, he dipped the cloth into the powder and shoved it into the boy's mouth.
The boy coughed and gagged, spitting out what he could. "Whaath... what didd you just do to m?" he stammered, his wide eyes darting between the masked men.
None of them answered. The boy's vision began to blur, the room spinning around him. "No... no, plea..." he mumbled before collapsing to the ground, unconscious.
One of the men spoke, his voice cold and detached. "Kill him. Easier that way."
Another man, standing over the old blacksmith, shook his head. "No. The old man works for our lord now. If the boy dies, the blacksmith won't cooperate."
The first man glanced at the boy, then back at the blacksmith. "Keeping both alive will be... inconvenient."
"Not your call," the second man replied flatly. "Do as ordered.".
[
I'm back, guys! It took so long, but we're continuing in the end. By the way, there's another new two chapter on my Patreon. There might be a chance I'll change those chapters on Patreon if I feel the need. So, I can't guarantee they'll be the same as the public release.
link: patreon.com/AmouxCreationX
]