Capítulo 9: The Price of Becoming a Blackstone Wolf
Daemon watched as the villagers gathered whatever meager belongings they had left. He instructed them to collect the armor and weapons of the fallen bandits and knights, as well as any coins they could find. The villagers worked quickly, eager to prove their worth, and soon had a modest collection of mismatched armor, swords, and a small pouch of tarnished coins.
The elderly village elder stepped forward, a wary expression on his face. "Ser, I'm afraid the only horses we have left are farm horses." he explained.
Before Daemon could respond, a young man stepped forward, leading a sturdy chestnut mare. "This is the best we could find, ser," he said.
Daemon eyed the horse, acknowledging that it was not the magnificent warhorse he would have preferred, but it would have to do. "Very well," he conceded, "it will have to do."
He turned to the elder, his expression stern. "I trust you will all be able to keep up on foot. We have a long journey ahead of us to Harrenhal, and I will not slow my pace for the sake of stragglers."
The elder nodded hastily, his face etched with worry. "Yes, ser. We will do our best to keep up. Thank you for your generosity."
knights rarely traveled alone. When venturing out, they were typically accompanied by an extensive entourage befitting their station. At the forefront would be a small contingent of armed guards or men-at-arms, their purpose to provide security and protection for the knight and his party.
Alongside the guards would be a young squire, a man-in-training who aspired to one day become a knight himself. This squire was tasked with caring for the knight's armor and weapons, as well as assisting him with the critical tasks of mounting and dismounting his horse.
Tending to the knight's noble steed were several grooms and stablemen, responsible for ensuring the animal was properly groomed, fed, and saddled for the journey.
Rounding out the entourage were personal servants - valets, pages, and other attendants - who cared for the knight's daily needs and saw to the care of his belongings during the trip. And of course, no knight's retinue would be complete without cooks and kitchen staff to prepare fancy meals for the entire company along the way.
This was the typical composition of landed knight's traveling party in Daemon's former world, a sizable retinue that ensured the noble's every requirement was met during his ventures abroad. Daemon was well-accustomed to this level of accompaniment, finding it neither unusual nor burdensome.
Daemon mounted the horse. With a reluctant sigh, he led the small entourage out of the village, the villagers trailing behind him, their meager belongings slung over their shoulders.
{ 12 days later }
The journey to Harrenhal was arduous, taking nearly two weeks due to the slow pace of the villagers. Daemon found himself growing increasingly impatient.
However, Daemon wasn't idle during these days. He meticulously observed his "entourage," scrutinizing each and every one of them to uncover their true identities beneath the facade of simple villagers. Who were they really?
Among the villagers trailing behind him, there were 14 women, 20 able-bodied men, 6 elderly, and 10 children (6 girls and 4 boys), not counting his squire Alrick. After a week of traveling with them, Daemon had formulated plans for their roles.
The elderly, lacking any special skills, had to go. Their presence was a burden, and Daemon couldn't afford to waste more time on them.
The women, however, proved useful. They could cook simple meals and provided some much-needed levity during the journey. Four of them stood out: either attempting to seduce him or showering compliments on his every move. Daemon recognized their intelligence—their subtle attempts to "accidentally" reveal some skin.
As for the men, most of them were disappointingly useless. Nine exhibited meek personalities and weakness, unworthy even of a wooden training sword. They would be dismissed.
Two others, however, had to die. They wore the guise of sheep but were truly rabid dogs. Daemon caught them attempting to force themselves upon women and girls when he wasn't nearby.
Finally, there were three men he liked. They followed him diligently, proactive and skilled in hunting and basic arms.
After the long journey from the village, Daemon and his companions came upon Harrenhal in the distance. As the expansive stone walls and towers of the imposing castle came into view above the trees, a murmur rose up from the villagers following behind Daemon.
Upon reaching the edge of the surrounding fields, Daemon pulled his horse to a stop to take in the full scale of Harrenhal. Even having heard tales of its size, he was not prepared for the sprawling stone giants that met his eyes. Tower after towering tower rose from within the colossal curtain walls, its many courtyards and buildings seeming to stretch on endlessly.
Banners of numerous houses fluttered from atop every tent, signaling the assembled might and nobility from across the realm that had gathered here. Thousands of tents dotting the field.
Turning in his saddle, Daemon saw weary expressions of exhaustion, worry and apprehension on the faces of the villagers who had accompanied him. Their ordeal escaping the bandits remained fresh in their minds.
But now within sight of the castle's imposing walls, an unspoken anxiety passed between the villagers. They knew that once through those gates, they could rely on Daemon's protection no more. In this sprawling fortress filled with strangers, they would be alone - refugees among many others seeking shelter.
Without Daemon to ward off any danger, they knew surviving each day would be a challenge. How long before the gifts of kindness turned to those of contempt for newcomers adding to the crowds? Once his duty delivering them was done, Daemon would ride off to his own purposes, leaving the villagers to fend for themselves without his sword arm to shield them.
The children clung to their mothers, no longer understanding what dangers may await without the knight's shielding presence. Faces that had shown relief now wore trepidation at the uncertainty within walls, instead of the safety Daemon's guard had afforded on the journey.
Faces that had shown relief at the journey's end now wore looks of trepidation. Within Harrenhal's walls lay uncertainty, instead of the security Daemon's presence had afforded. They had escaped one threat, only to enter another unknown just as perilous without the knight's guard to see them through.
The group decided it would be best to make camp for the night rather than push on to Harrenhal. The villagers were weary, and reaching the castle walls would have taken half a day more.
Daemon and Alrick dismounted their horse, with Alrick taking the reins to tend to the animal. Daemon eyed the two men he had identified as "rabid dogs," and approached them as they were conversing.
The men stiffened as the knight approached, but Daemon raised a hand. "Relax, men. I'm merely here to talk - the road can grow quite dull at times." The men loosened up slightly, but still regarded Daemon with caution.
"Tell me, what do you think of Elara? She's quite a beauty, is she not?" Daemon asked, his tone deceptively casual. "And what of her husband? I heard he met an unfortunate end."
"Aye, the fool went to face the bandits with naught but a shovel, and paid for it with his life," one of the men replied. Daemon let out a chuckle.
Daemon let out a loud laugh. "Haha, what a fool. A shame, though - such a fine beauty will wither without a man to appreciate her." He paused, letting the implication sink in.
The two men exchanged a look of dawning comprehension. They had caught Daemon's meaning - he wanted them to "take care" of Elara, away from prying eyes. With a look of eager anticipation, one of them said, "Don't worry, ser. We'll make sure to... keep her company. Discreetly, of course."
Daemon smiled approvingly and placed a hand on each of their shoulders. "Excellent. I always did appreciate men with a bit of initiative. Perhaps you'll prove useful even after we reach Harrenhal." He paused, lowering his voice. "I'll keep the others distracted. You two take her somewhere private."
"I will distract the others," Daemon said, "while you escort the lady to a more... private setting. You may have the first turn, and I shall join you shortly." With that, the knight turned and strode away, leaving the two men to their unsavory task.
Daemon felt a twinge of pity as he walked away, knowing the fate that awaited Elara. but this was necessary - for Alrick's sake.
The young man had shown promise, to be sure, but he was still too soft, too innocent. To become the wolf that Daemon envisioned, Alrick would need to shed his lamb-like nature and embrace the cruel realities of the world. And that transformation could only begin with the loss of his mother.
The Blackstone Legion demanded unwavering loyalty and ruthlessness from its members. They were the blades that cut through anything in their way, carving a path for their lord. And Alrick, for all his potential, was still too gentle, too compassionate.
As much as it pained him, Daemon understood that Elara's fate was necessary. Her death would be the catalyst that would forge Alrick into the hardened warrior he needed to become. The loss would strip away his last vestiges of softness, forcing him to confront the harsh truths of the world.
Only then could he become the wolf that would inspire fear in the hearts of his enemies. The lamb had to be sacrificed so that the wolf could emerge, stronger and more resolute than ever before.
For Alrick's sake, for the sake of the Blackstone Legion, Elara's fate was sealed. The young man would shed his lamb-like nature and be reborn as a wolf cub, ready to join the pack and hunt alongside the soon to be the most formidable warriors in the realm.
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