บท 12: Chapter 12: Titan’s Hall
The night has come to Maidenpool, yet festivities continue to bloom outside the recently built town wall. Fires were lit, the smells of roasted meat lingered all around, and songs from bards echoed throughout the field. It was largely a success, with many widows meeting the displaced men of the north. Some out of attraction, most out of necessity. Some maidens even met their match at the fair. People were dancing, singing songs of their own, and some had left eager to bed their new brides and grooms. After all the blood that has been spilled, tonight is the opposite of it.
But still, many northmen have yet to find their match. It will take a while and many days on the road traveling to the other domains of the Riverlands to finally settle all thousand northmen around the land. Though, some did it intentionally, not intending to marry at all, but rather to find opportunities to make gold, either by trying to get a position serving the lords in the group, or through other unsavory means.
One such group of people approached Willam as well. He was a new lord, in need of retainers, and while he hired the group of sellswords in King's Landing, they would only be temporary. However, he had a unique problem in choosing the men who wanted to serve under him. Due to his past in the war and how he practically fought against these northmen, even though they never met in battle, he attracted the 'opportunistic' men of the north who were willing to ignore his dishonorable deeds, rather than the supposed stereotypical simple-minded, honorable, and loyal northman. He could see it in their eyes: if he rejected them, perhaps they would turn to a life of crime.
So he picked them carefully, only managing to gather around ten battle-hardened men-at-arms who claimed they had fought against the Westerlands host west of God's Eye, being one of the Winter Wolves. Willam did not doubt their claims; most bore battle marks on their skin. After all, that battle was fierce, and only a tenth of the Winter Wolves remained after the prince's intervention.
Willam did not only attract the northmen's attention; he attracted the women as well. The widows looked at him as if he was a prize, a chance to be nobility. An unmarried young new lord is ripe for the picking for these cougars. But he stood tall, refusing every single one of them.
Now, at the hour of the wolf, he was busy telling his newly acquired sworn men to move their things near his tent, which wasn't much; they only brought their weapons and their shabby northern horses. The night then continued on, until everyone was dead drunk on the ground, unable to wake up.
***
It was not until days later that the Riverland host continued their travels. The fair in Maidenpool lasted for about three days, with the fourth spent preparing the army to march once again. They marched west, towards Harrenhal as a quick stop before spreading out either to Raventree Hall, Fairmarket, Riverrun, and the other holds in these swampy and damp lands.
And now, all manner of banners of the Riverlanders flow around the castle of Harren the Black, with camps just about to be planted around the haunted halls of the melted keep. Nobody went in yet; however, for now, only Willam has entered the castle itself, alone. He entered the main hall, a gigantic chamber that had lost its ceilings and towers, the very place where King Jaehaerys held a council to choose an heir after him, a council that started all the bloodshed.
Willam could definitely see how this place is 'haunted.' The atmosphere of this damp place would make anyone shiver to the bone. Abandoned scaffolding is scattered everywhere, presumably from the repairs when Daemon stayed at this very castle. He stood there for a while, quiet, doing nothing. He just stared at the seat placed at the edge of this gigantic hall, a broken chair, clearly weathered from years of disrepair. This place is now his, for better or for worse.
It was then that footsteps could be heard from the back. Willam turned around and saw a couple of lords approaching, most of them young. One held the banner of House Tully: Lord Elmo Tully along with his sons Ser Kermit and Ser Oscar. One held the banner of House Blackwood: the young Lord Benjicot and his young aunt Alysanne. The last one was Lady Sabitha Frey, the oldest of the group. These were the heads that led the majority of the Riverland army, the ones who would be immortalized as 'The Lads' if Willam had not interfered in the war. They first approached him but stopped at a distance. They wore full armor, even the young lady Alysanne.
"Lord Tybur, you are the new lord of Harrenhal," said Lord Elmo. "Are you not going to invite the lords to stay in your castle? We've marched for days now; surely your hospitality will satiate our fatigue."
Willam merely smiled. "My lords, as you can see, the castle is in no position to shelter men such as yourselves."
Elmo hummed, looking around the place. "I suppose you are right."
"I wonder if you chose the right side in the war," Lady Sabitha Frey spoke out; she was also looking around. "You've practically won 'them' the crown, yet they gave you a broken keep and little gold to maintain it."
"Perhaps," Willam said, smiling once again, a cold mystery emanating from it. "But at the end of the day, I am no longer just 'mere' smallfolk now. The rest I can gain easily through other means."
Sabitha raised her brow. "Indeed."
"I cannot offer much, but you can stay here if you want, my lords, my ladies," Willam continued, extending his hand as if offering the place around him. "This hall itself is wide enough for you and some of your kin to stay."
"Can you cover the ceiling? These lands are often blessed with rain," questioned Ser Oscar. "Using your… gift, as I saw in Maidenpool."
"The ceiling?" Willam looked up; the roof was practically non-existent. "I will see what I can do. In the meantime, perhaps you can move your things here. And pardon me, I cannot give you a feast tonight, as this place is empty, and so are the mills and pantries. Prince Aemond made sure of that when he took this place from Daemon."
"Then we will stay here." Lord Elmo nodded. "You might be a stranger around these parts, Lord Tybur. But rest assured, you will otherwise acclimate yourself soon enough. Just as the other houses that have held Harrenhal before you. I am sure your house could hold this place longer than the others."
Willam simply chuckled. "I thank you for the vote of confidence."
***
When all the rest of the lords were busy moving their belongings to the great hall of the castle, Lord Benjicot Blackwood could only stare at the ceiling above. There, he saw that it was now covered with a bone-white material that had come out from the titan form of the lord of the castle. His eyes then turned to the carcass of the titan on the side, now laying on the ground and disintegrating quite quickly. From the back of the titan emerged Willam, coming out of the very flesh itself. There were some scars on his face, but they were healing quickly. All of this was watched by the lords of the Riverlands, including Benjicot Blackwood.
The young lord approached Willam as he slid down from the titan's carcass and looked at him seriously, his hand holding his sword. Willam noticed him and raised his brow.
"Anything you want to say, Lord Blackwood?" Willam asked. He saw the young lord looking behind him, toward the titan's carcass.
Benjicot looked back and forth between Willam and the carcass and finally frowned. "What is it like?"
"What do you mean?"
"Standing tall before us as if we were but ants," Benjicot stated. The boy walked past Willam to the carcass, touching the evaporating skin curiously. "Raventree Hall would be wiped away in less than a day if we were to face you in a siege."
Willam hummed. "Why do you ask? Do you want to be me?"
"Can I?" Benjicot scoffed. "I would very much like to be you. I could spit on those Brackens as easily as I breathe."
Willam chuckled. "I'm afraid I can't do that. We share no blood."
"I figured as much," Benjicot snorted. "First it was the Targaryens and their dragonblood. Now it's your house with your titan's blood."
"I heard the blood of the First Men gives you certain… advantages."
Benjicot stared at Willam. "So they say."
"Is there anything else you want to ask me?" Willam said. "If not, I shall excuse myself. I very much like to inspect the rest of the castle."
"Only one more," Benjicot continued. "How old are you? You don't look older than my aunt."
"I am two and twenty," Willam answered calmly.
"I see." Benjicot looked intrigued. "Well, Lord Tybur. My house could lend you gold; you very much need it with this castle's conditions. A goodwill gesture from me, from one neighbor to another."
"Thank you for the offer," Willam gave a smile. "But I do not need it at the moment."
After that, Willam left, leaving young Lord Benjicot alone near the carcass of the titan, which he continued to examine rather curiously.
***
Time once again passes by quite quickly, with Willam practically examining every corner of the bleak castle. It is empty, and the place even shows signs of ransacking by outlaws due to its abandonment. Now, he arrives at the most remote part of the hold, a place near the God's Eye, where a small garden holds a solitary weirwood tree at its edge. When Willam arrives, he is surprised to find he is not alone. Beneath the red tree stands a young woman, wearing leather armor and humming a tune that Willam does not recognize. She is not as beautiful as the maidens of Lys or anything, but her hair is as black as a raven's feather, thick and curly like a berry bush. She is sharpening some arrows, some white as if she had plucked the branches of the weirwood tree itself, and some bone-like, resembling the material from Willam's titan form.
Willam approaches her, and the young woman soon notices his presence. She sets her knife aside and places the sharpened arrows in her quiver.
"I apologize for wandering around your castle, my lord," she says. "I heard there is a weirwood tree here, and I am here to stock up on my arrows."
"And use my titan's bones as well?" Willam questions, walking closer to her.
The young woman smiles. "And that too."
"Why do you use them?" Willam asks, his eyes turning to the tree. "The weirwood branches?"
"There's power in these woods," she answers, also turning to look at the tree. "I killed Lord Bracken with one of them. It made my aim unnaturally accurate."
"I see," Willam hums. "And my titan's bones?"
"I haven't had the chance to try them," she continues. "But they're light and strong, a good material for arrows."
Willam chuckles. He then opens his palm, and from it grows an arrow made out of his titan's bone, which he takes and gives to the young woman. The sight surprises her, but she takes it nonetheless.
"My men whisper that you can only conjure these bones when you are a titan only," she states.
"Then their guesses are incorrect."
"Why change to a titan then?" the young woman raises her brow curiously.
Willam smiles thinly. "I like their expressions when they see me standing tall. I am but a new lord in these lands, my lady, an outsider as well. I will plant any respect that I can."
"Clever." The young woman shakes her head in amusement. "Has it worked yet?"
"Your nephew seems to be envious of me," Willam shrugs.
"Of course he is," she sighs. "I apologize if he has said anything rude to you."
Willam hums, and his eyes turn to the Isle of Faces in the distance. "I suggest you get some sleep, my lady. I heard this place is haunted by the ghosts of Harren the Black. You might not be safe wandering alone around here."
"I will be alright, my lord. They say Raventree Hall has been haunted ever since the Brackens poisoned our weirwood tree as well," the young woman murmurs. "I am proficient with the bow too. If there are any threats, I could just shoot them."
Willam shakes his head. "If you say so. Then I'll take my leave."
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