CHP 25: Hearts of Men (Patreon)

The rivermen wilted like grass as I walked back their way, their skittish eyes held doubt and fear, and none made any attempt to approach... or even comment on my actions.

Instead, they backed away like their steeds, and the local wildlife who seemed to crumple away in my presence out of instinct.

Truth be told, I couldn't blame them for their reactions, none could.

The closest thing this world seemed to possess to my kin were overgrown lizards who were only relatively large and breathed fires of different colours, resembling drakes instead of true dragons, and even they could be felled by a well placed shot to the eye as evident by their stories.

Sorcery seemed to have existed at one point, but from what I could tell, it was actively culled and driven into myths and stories by some unknown facet of their medieval society.

Hell, even their Gods seemed like a kind of propaganda compared to the one I was used to.

I quickly reached the flimsy line of spearmen they'd formed to hold off a cavalry charge and cocked my head in confusion when they didn't budge even slightly, "What? I don't think I've done anything to earn your ire."

"W-What are you?"

Oh my...

I raised a brow, turning to the one that had the guts to speak his mind, "You have more balls..." I gestured to the Lannisters in disarray, broken and retreating, "Than those guys."

It was the same boy who led me to the war room just before the Lannisters arrived.

"As for your question," I continued, tipping my hat with a polite smile, "I'm just a concerned traveller with a bleeding heart... so if you would, I'd like something to drink now."

He numbly lowered his spear, nodding his head for the sake of it as he stepped aside.

"Oh and don't worry, I'm on your side for the time being."

Well... this was quite fun.

I was more used to people going haywire and giving their lives to end my heretical existence as soon as they realised who I was... so such awe, mingled with fear, was something of a welcome change.

I found myself looking forward to the effects my actions here would have on these so-called Seven Kingdoms.

-

Admittedly, I'd somewhat underestimated the reaction a medieval society with no Gods, Demigods or Dragons roaming around with the ability to destroy whatever they didn't like, would have to some random passer-by decimating a whole pass by caving in the entire hillside.

When I entered the tent designated as the mess hall, the few men hanging around ran away like I was Maliketh the Black Blade... None of them addressed me, but instead, tried to make themselves as small as possible.

I just shrugged and poured myself some milk and boiled tea leaves in a steel cup along with a few spoons of the closest thing I could find to sugar.

"Came out well enough, I guess?" I commented, staring at the dark liquid in my cup with narrowed eyes before holding my breath and taking a small sip.

"Huh."

It did turn out good enough.

I glanced at the boys sneaking glances from behind the tent drapes with a small smile, curious as to what sort of rumours were going around, "I don't bite, you know? You can ask me whatever you want."

They didn't take kindly to my invitation and ran away.

Fortunately, before I could get bored enough to just wander off in a random direction of the war camp, the thin drapes were pushed aside and a small, fat man walked in, dressed in a simple grey tunic and leather breeches.

His dark eyes shifted around until they landed on me and he scratched his bushy red hair with a strained smile before inhaling deeply to gather his courage... Only after several moments AFTER that did he finally approach me.

I could only smile in amusement.

They... didn't know how to interact with me, did they?

"I... am Clement Piper, Lord of Pinkmaiden." He started slowly, words subdued, breath heaving and eyes skittish, "Greetings... Lord Karl."

I nodded back, "Greetings, Clement Piper, Lord of Pinkmaiden."

I had no reason to be rude without provocation despite the difference in our station, manners cost nothing... and I was too old to act like an egotistical runt.

Seeing as he didn't say anything further, I continued with an amused smile, "I don't think I've given you any reason to be afraid of me just yet, Lord Clement Piper."

He didn't need to know about the deserved fate of the Iron Islands.

Clement pursed his lips, eyes wandering as he searched for the right words, "My... Lord... You've smashed the Lannister host, by destroying... the pass... They have no way to enter the Riverlands anymore."

I could see his brain try and fail to wrap itself around the idea of a lone man causing such destruction, and I even felt a bit guilty about just how amusing his confusion was for me.

"Like I said, nothing to cause fear just yet." I reaffirmed, "I reckon there's a shaman or witch that could do the same."

His breath hitched at my words, "T...That, my lord... What kind of ritual did you?"

"No ritual." I clarified politely, producing the Stark sigil from my satchel and placing it on the plank table between us, "You don't have to worry about my allegiance, I did this as a favor to the Young Wolf... Ah, speak casually please, I find your language taxing."

I was also curious to meet Stannis Baratheon, but until then, Robb Stark seemed like the most interesting choice to go along with... and the morally correct one.

I hadn't supported deceitful bastards in the Shattering, and turned away from Praetor Rykard because of what he did to uninvolved folk... So I had no intention to support a murderous retard who believed he was a God or something now either.

That was why I had chosen to support a naive and happy-go-lucky Tarnished who would be Lord instead of the demigods who grew up before my very eyes in the conflict to claim the Elden Ring and become Lord... or God... or whatever.

It was a rather tedious event.

What was so special about ruling anyway?

It was a pain beyond all else to have to care for so many and meet their needs.

"My Lord?"

My sudden musings were interrupted by a confused Clement, "Should I dare to presume you stand with the Stark cause then?"

"I can promise you that... on the old gods and the new." I gave him an amused nod.

The slight twitching of his body, his gaze, everything about him relaxed ever so slightly, and he let out a small relieved sigh, "Then, you should meet Lord Edmure Tully at Riverrun."

Huh, these people really were a bit too trusting in oaths.

But then again, I'd routed an invading force that would have crushed them into a meaty paste so I supposed his relief and trust was warranted...

Ah... but, he didn't know I could practically smell the doubt and caution wafting off his person, did he?

I sipped on my tea again, studying his expression, "Before I head there though, what's this I'm hearing about a mountain?"

"That." He considered something for a moment, then explained briefly, "Some of the Lannisters were able to find another path through... and ravage the Riverlands. They are led by Gregor Clegane, the Mountain that Rides."

I raised a curious brow, "The Mountain that Rides?"

"A bastard and savage raper. Lord Edmure ordered us to ride out and reinforce the nearby villages in anticipation of his savagery..." He momentarily forgot his fear so I figured this particular person must be really hated, "Now... we must prepare for an incursion from the South... Y...You are a blessing, my lord."

Right, the Golden Tooth wasn't the only way through, it was just the most direct and shortest path to Riverrun, the ancestral seat of House Tully... rulers of the Riverlands.

That meant that if the Lannister forces regrouped after our 'little altercation', they'd be approaching from the South, under completely different circumstances.

"You think they're gonna be back after what happened?" I inquired curiously, gulping my entire cup.

Clement hesitated momentarily before nodding his small, fat head, "Lord Tywin Lannister is not... a man to be... refused."

Most curious.

"Guess I'll go mountain hunting for a bit then." I flashed him a grin.

That would give ample time for tales and legends to be spread, about me, and I was looking forward to whatever the bards of this age would cook up... so long as they didn't brand me a heretic devil.

He nodded numbly at my proclamation, "I would... not dare stop you, my lord."

The fear in his dark eyes had started slowly fading away, gradually replaced by a strange reverence I recognised all too well.

It was the same way Lord Godfrey had seized his position, by virtue of sheer strength.

Now that... that was something I didn't like when it was directed towards me.

Reverence stunted freedom... and gave men confidence to twist it in ways that satisfied their own sick desires.

That sort of reverence could die out for all I cared.

"I commend you for talking to me." I praised politely, tossing away my cup and wiping my lips.

He was absurdly brave when I considered the fact that other men were either avoiding me like the plague, or didn't have the courage to even look at me and ran away at first sight.

I could understand their reactions but... I'd attempted to kill Bayle as a nobody when he was the tyrannical King of Drakes... and I was a man then.

"No... I get it." I mumbled to myself.

The hearts of men varied too much for me to group them all together.

-

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