Chương 9: Chapter 8: A Conversation After the Rain

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Edmund Gardener.

Somewhere on the Road of Roses.

Edmund slowly regained consciousness. His head felt hollow, devoid of thoughts. A gentle breeze ruffled his hair and pricked his skin. Beneath his hand, something damp and cold rested. A low hum echoed in his ears, drowning out all else. His body felt languid, as if wrapped in blissful slumber. Awareness of his surroundings crept into the mind of the heir to the Oak Throne through a fog of sensation.

At last, Edmund abruptly opened his eyes, as if forcibly tearing himself from the seductive embrace of sleep. In that moment, he shot upright, immediately clutching his spinning head. Everything around him appeared gray, drained of color.

As he collected his thoughts from the jarring awakening, Edmund cautiously scanned the area. Memories of the events in Appleton began to surface in his mind. A glance around confirmed that all that had transpired was no mere dream. The unfamiliar and unnatural surroundings told him otherwise.

He lay on a makeshift cot of heavy fabric, a drenched tarp stretched above him. The hum in his ears was, in truth, the sound of rain falling outside his improvised shelter. A thick mist enveloped the trees and the small clearing where Edmund found himself. It was early morning.

Noticing a similar shelter across from him, Edmund realized he was not alone. Peering through the haze, he discerned a figure cloaked in shadow, meticulously polishing a long, pale blade—likely of Valyrian steel. The practicality of such a weapon's upkeep was questionable, but it seemed there was some ritual at play, of which Edmund was unaware. The presence of an armed man nearby did little to soothe the young prince's unease.

However, the proximity of the Knight of the Vale concerned Edmund far less than the condition of his friend, gravely wounded in their last encounter. The white figure of Camrit lay beneath several trees not far off. The dense foliage shielded the noble steed almost entirely from the rain. Now, the proud horse rested on the ground, as peacefully slumbering as he. Beside him, the black horse of Corbrey lay almost invisible in the mist. The noble creatures appeared to share their warmth on this chilly day.

Edmund's condition was far from ideal, so after ensuring the safety of his surroundings, he returned to a prone position. There was little sense in taking action while the rain fell. His stomach growled insistently, a reminder that the heir to the Oak Throne had gone far too long without sustenance. And yet, all he could do was wait, hoping for the rain to cease.

With each passing moment, thoughts swarmed in Edmund's mind. "Why did the Knight of the Vale from House Corbrey choose to side with him? What motivated him to save Edmund when a substantial bounty was placed on the head of the last rightful lord of Highgarden? But what was the bounty, exactly? Perhaps Corbrey found the price unsatisfactory? Though Baratheon was known to be anything but stingy. Or perhaps he simply did not wish to share it with his fellows? Yet, what sense did it make to obey him and leave the bound knights alive?" A flurry of questions, but those who might answer them were engaged elsewhere, hidden by the elements.

The events of the recent skirmish made it clear to Edmund that despite the power he had gained, he was no warrior alone in the field. A clever ambush by a small cadre of seasoned knights had nearly derailed his plans and divine will. This thought unsettled Edmund greatly. He needed to be vigilant, though he still did not know how the knights, led by Corbrey, had found him. The incident served as a grim reminder of his vulnerability.

He also needed to ponder his weaponry. Had he possessed a dagger rather than the little knife he had left neglected in his pocket, he might have had a far better chance of defending himself against Horras Fell, rather than relying on unexpected salvation. Although he had never wielded a sword in this life, the knowledge embedded in his memory would surely have prevented him from suffering such a disgraceful defeat at the hands of the Storm Knight.

"In this life, indeed?" Edmund recalled the conclusion of that night and the necessity that had driven him to action. He felt no remorse for his first killing, though he abhorred senseless murder. It was one thing to kill a man with magic, which obeyed him only partially, and quite another to take a life with cold steel in hand. The difference was akin to comparing shooting someone with a gun versus stabbing them with a knife. Pulling a trigger was far simpler than thrusting steel into a man's flesh, gazing into his eyes. The sensations were scarcely comparable.

Yet, the fact remained—he had already claimed several lives. One through magic, and another with a knife. Edmund had sought to avoid such outcomes at all costs, but fate seemed to have other plans. Still, he accepted these events with surprising ease, perhaps due to the part of him that had long endured in this world, or maybe it was simply the fog of fatigue clouding his mind.

His thoughts gradually shifted to the aftermath of the Appleton events that had transpired after his visit to the town. "Should I continue to maintain this disguise? Word will surely spread of my attempts to hide in the guise of a peasant. I've only complicated my own life with this charade. But what remains? Even the most conspicuous disguise is better than none at all. And if Corbrey truly intends to join me on this quest… he is, after all, a knight of considerable repute throughout the Seven Kingdoms. That complicates matters if need be. Argghhh!!!" Edmund buried his face in his hands. "So many variables, damn it all!"

"Awake at last, your grace?" a gravelly voice whispered near his ear. Lowering his hand from his eyes, Edmund turned his attention to the entrance of his shelter.

In the doorway, blocking the pale light from the overcast sky, stood Corbrey, his sharp features peeking out from beneath the hood of his cloak. The Valyrian sword, Lady Forlorn, rested in its scabbard at the knight's side. Water dripped from his dark gray cloak, and beneath his barely perceptible black eyes, dark circles were evident. The warrior's face bore a natural severity, highlighted by a pronounced pallor common among the Andal descendants of the Vale.

Lost in thought, Edmund only noticed the knight as he stepped closer to his resting place. The rain had ceased; the only signs it had ever fallen were droplets still clinging to the leaves, along with a faint haze lingering in the air. Under his left arm, Corbrey held a small bundle of kindling, surprisingly dry, evidently prepared in advance. It seemed the knight was no stranger to traveling without comforts; he managed this ordeal far better than Edmund could.

"Yes," Edmund replied calmly, not flinching. The man whose motives remained a mystery stirred unease, but Edmund assessed the situation with clarity, knowing he had little chance of handling the knight until nightfall.

"Excellent. Wait a moment; I shall soon light a fire, and we can eat," Corbrey responded to Edmund's answer, turning to head outside.

"Hold on," Edmund called. Corbrey halted obediently, turning his head to show he was listening intently. "What is your name? How long have I been asleep? Why did you help me?"

"Easy now, your grace," the Knight of the Vale shook his head, interrupting the flow of questions from the prince of the Stormlands. "My name is Lin, of House Corbrey. You've slept for three days, which is why we had to stop here for a rest, so you could recover. I'll answer your other questions shortly. This conversation is not a brief one, and you need sustenance. I shall call you when the food is ready." With that, ignoring Edmund's protests, Sir Lin set off to gather firewood.

In the end, Gardener was once more left alone with his thoughts. Despite his stern countenance, Korbey spoke with an unmistakable politeness, his concern for Edmund evident, which surely fostered the young man's goodwill toward him, especially after being rescued from the hands of Horas Fell. Rising for the second time that day from his resting place, Edmund stepped out of his refuge, inhaling the cool morning air. Somewhere in the distance, the cheerful chirping of birds heralded the new day following the rain.

Edmund's limbs felt uncooperative. He attempted to stand tall and straight, but his legs wobbled from weakness. Acclimating to his state, Gardener took a few cautious steps, feeling the damp grass beneath the wrappings around his feet. Aside from the occasional bird call, a serene silence enveloped the camp, peaceful and tranquil, contrasting sharply with the sunlit landscapes of his home kingdom.

However, the silence did not last long. As soon as Edmund took a few tentative steps toward Korbey, who was busy tending to the fire and preparing breakfast, he heard a loud, drawn-out whinny from somewhere nearby. Glancing toward the sound, Edmund saw Kamrit galloping toward him, as if the horse had been waiting for his master to awaken before launching into a spirited rush.

"Easy there, Kamrit," Gardener admonished his friend as the horse nearly knocked him over, skidding to a halt mere feet away. The steed joyfully licked the hand with which Edmund scratched his muzzle. "I'm glad to see you too. As you can see, I'm almost well, but how about you?" Gardener inquired with concern, recalling the painful wounds the horse had sustained in battle.

Proudly lifting his head, Kamrit snorted loudly and pranced before him, proclaiming that all was well. Yet, it was hard for Edmund to overlook the bandages and patches of grey cloth adorning the horse's body. It seemed Korbey had cared not only for his injuries. It was surprising how he had managed to extract the arrow from Kamrit without causing further harm.

"I'm glad you're alright, my friend. I was worried about you," Edmund said, relief spreading across his face. He also noted that the horse didn't limp, despite the wounds that surely should have left some lasting effects. "And it appears you were worried about me too. Ha-ha-ha," he laughed, once more feeling Kamrit's smooth tongue on his hand.

"I had to work hard to tend to both your wounds and his, Your Majesty," Sir Lin chimed in, noting the joyful reunion of the two companions. Edmund listened closely to the knight's words. "It's rather surprising how quickly he regained his strength after the injuries, considering he had to carry you for two days."

"Hmm, Kamrit is a resilient horse; he can endure worse. Right, buddy?" The horse whinnied in agreement, confirming Edmund's words.

"Ah, so his name is Kamrit. I'll keep that in mind," Korbey replied, finishing with the fire, which blazed brightly in the wind, before setting about preparing the cooking pot on two long sticks.

"How did you manage to extract the arrow without crippling him further?" Edmund asked, curious as he continued to scratch his companion's muzzle.

"Though I'm no maester, I managed to glean a few things from them. During the Battle of the Trident, there were many wounded, including my elder brother Lionel, head of House Hearts. An arrow struck his leg, and if not for his noble birth, he would have remained a cripple for life. But one of the maesters knew a way to safely extract the arrow, provided it wasn't smeared with poison. My brother was fortunate that day, unlike my father," Korbey recounted, focusing on his cooking. It seemed he intended to prepare a meal using rainwater. Gardener refrained from complaining, although he was well aware of the dangers of such an approach; after all, his new body was far healthier than the old. So one could endure it this time, but next time, it would be wiser to secure a source of cooking water in advance.

"The maester did his job well and quickly, but I had my work cut out for me, as I might have remembered the process but had never performed it, especially on a horse," Korbey continued. Hearing Kamrit's indignant snort, he quickly amended his words. "On a horse, that is. You see, the trick is to carefully hook those barbs on the arrowhead, which is precisely what complicates its removal. The question is, with what?"

Edmund's curiosity piqued as he approached the knight, keen to learn more. This knowledge might prove useful in his travels, especially in the future.

"I was surprised to find that it required a rather simple thing—two goose feathers. They are inserted into the wound to snag the arrowhead, allowing for extraction without excessive damage and leaving the wound cleaner. The maester noted, however, that in normal circumstances, this operation is better done with a special tool, but alas, that tool broke on that day. Yet, looking at today's circumstances, it feels more like a stroke of luck than a misfortune," Sir Lin concluded, pouring soup into a wooden bowl and offering it to Edmund.

"That is indeed fortunate, Sir Lin. As is your help to me," Edmund replied, shaking his head in gratitude as he accepted the offered breakfast, along with a spoon and a piece of bread. "How do you manage to carry so many useful items without overburdening your horse?"

"There's no secret, Your Majesty," Korbey replied, pouring himself a portion. "As you may know, the Vale is home to some of the finest horse knights, thanks to a hardy breed that has been developed over the years. In the Reach, they prefer speed, so they don't carry more than necessary on their journeys. Our horses, on the other hand, can bear a considerable load, which is invaluable for prolonged travels through the rocky terrain of the East. Your horse, by the way, is quite similar to them, although that coloration is rarely seen among us," Korbey explained, settling down on the damp ground, as there were no alternatives.

"Understood. I will keep that in mind. Thank you for the detailed explanation. However, you should not address me as such. After all, I am a king without a kingdom, and not yours, if one thinks about it. Just call me by my name. After all, I owe you my life," Edmund replied, taking a seat on the grass.

"To be honest, I'd prefer to argue about that, but I see you are still recovering from the incident in Appleton. So as you wish, Sir Edmund," Korbey nodded. Though the knight's face was an inscrutable mask of disdain, Edmund was beginning to discern the emotions he experienced. Even now, it seemed the knight of the Vale was flattered by the trust bestowed upon him.

Time passed quickly as they ate. Edmund filled his stomach and felt a pleasant warmth spread through his body. His leaden muscles regained their former agility. The mist had dissipated, and bright rays of sunlight broke through the forest branches. Nature was awakening after the refreshing rain. Kamrit and Korbey's black horse also enjoyed a snack, grazing nearby the fire.

Once satisfied, Edmund set down his empty wooden bowl beside the fire and stretched, hearing the pleasant crunch of joints aligning after a long rest. Korbey had finished his portion a few minutes earlier and was only waiting for Edmund, who had experienced some difficulties at the beginning of the meal due to hands trembling from cold and fatigue. Now, however, the heir of the Oak Throne felt as good as ever and was ready for the conversation ahead like never before.

"Well then," Edmund said, breaking the tranquil silence that had settled. "I'm still awaiting your answer, Sir Lin. Why did you help me that night? What are your intentions in aiding me?"

"Where to begin," Korbey mused, scratching his neck, which had sprouted a slight stubble during their journey. "I made up my mind that very night when you appeared at King Robert's feast, if you find it agreeable to hear him addressed as such," the knight of the Vale clarified.

"It matters not. I lived in times when the title of king belonged to many, not just one. It's not for me to call him a usurper, as he indeed holds the Iron Throne, which I have no claim to by right. Undoubtedly, his origins, character, and actions can incite my anger. Yet, I neither wish nor dare to dispute his standing as a crowned figure, though I will not deny my interest in the certain title and territory he holds, which I believe he does not possess justly," Edmund replied, Korbey delivering a more elaborate response, trying to convey the essence of his words—The Iron Throne, like six of the Seven Kingdoms, held little value for him. To reclaim and retain at least one—Dorne, rightfully belonging to him by blood.

"Is there a problem with that, Sir Korbey?" Edmund sought clarification.

"Not at all, Sir Edmund. I had suspected as much, and you conveyed your thoughts clearly during the feast," Korbey shook his head, revealing no hint of disappointment. "Let me start a little further back, with the history of my family. Do you know that the Korbeys were the first of the Andalusians to not only arrive first but also to establish themselves in Westeros?"

"I seem to recall something of the sort," Edmund replied, his expression tightening slightly as he processed the information from the recesses of his memory. "Once, you were indeed referred to as kings."

"Correct, Sir," Lin nodded, smirking. "Kings of the Fingers, to be precise. My ancestors were among the first to heed the call of King Hugar and set out on the journey. We not only carved out a place under the sun in the Vale but also earned renown by defeating one of the kings of the First Men, belonging to the ancient House Royce. However, that marks the end of our house's great accomplishments. Settling in the Vale, our house loyally served the kings of House Arryn for many years. When Aegon I's time came, we, like our liege, bowed to the power of dragons, serving them with utmost diligence and holding key posts in the governance of the realm and the capital at different times. Yet, despite this, our house has grown poorer and diminished in influence. Even the Baelish, who were mercenaries, are now wealthier and more powerful than us. Our history stands behind us, but that is all," Korbey recounted the abbreviated history of his house before and after the Targaryen conquest.

"That's certainly enlightening," Edmund remarked, without a hint of insincerity. "But I still cannot grasp why you chose to side with me. Yes, I possess magic and claims, but I have no armies or powerful fleet. All I have are peasant rags for clothing and a pitiful knife that any knight would scoff at." He shrugged in bewilderment. Kamrit, hearing Edmund's words, let out an indignant whinny nearby. "Though yes, I have an extraordinary horse, but I doubt that's enough to warrant your support," Edmund quickly added, noting the derisive snort from his loyal Kamrit.

"Money is, of course, important, but it wasn't what compelled me to save you from the hands of King Robert's men. No, what matters more to me is the favor you command," the knight pointed skyward at the pale heavens.

"Favor?" Edmund didn't quite understand.

"Precisely. By the grace of the Seven, as the scriptures tell, the Andals managed to crush the First Men and settle on the lands of Westeros. It was they who showed King Hugar the way from the Hill, the last king of Andal, and his many knights and vassals. Who better than they to determine who should rule? And they chose you for this purpose. What doubts could I have about whom to support?" Korbey explained, his wolf-like gaze flashing toward Gardener.

"You do not strike me as overly religious, my lord Lyn, forgive my bluntness," Edmund replied skeptically, furrowing his brow.

"Ha." Corbray chuckled again. "It is what it is, my lord Edmund. At least, that was the case until your arrival." He gestured toward the heir of the Oak throne. "I never considered the Seven's commandments as anything significant or important until our fateful meeting. However, like many others, I know how to face the truth. No magic can alter the constellations, nor can any science predict their behavior. The Seven clearly showed their favor towards you that night. I realized this when I saved you in Appleton, which was no mere coincidence. The radiance that envelops you beneath a clear night sky can only be described as a blessing from the gods." The knight of the Vale concluded his confession. "The Vale has always been considered one of the most loyal realms to the Seven. And if the Reachmen, who boast of the same, cannot see the truth and refuse to acknowledge you, then I, as a knight of the Vale, am duty-bound to support your cause."

"Well, your motivation is somewhat clear to me," Edmund said, though doubts still lingered. "But will your family not suffer for Robert's betrayal? It seems you do not consider their fate."

"Perhaps, but do they think of me?" the knight mused, as if speaking to himself. "My brother Lionel practically cast me from our home after the rebellion, angered by our father's decision to bequeath me the ancestral blade on his deathbed. Since that day, I have seen not a single coin from the House of Hearts. My brother believes he has been unfairly deprived of his inheritance. Meanwhile, I toil to earn my keep by competing in tournaments and taking simple mercenary jobs, while Lionel wallows in his grievances in the comfort of our family estate. Were it my choice, I would trade my Valyrian blade for half of what he possesses. Yet, he truly cares not for justice, but only for the desire to claim our family's entire legacy, leaving nothing for my younger brother and me." Corbray's voice carried notes of bitterness and resentment, reflecting the conflicting emotions swirling within him.

"It seems I understand you," Edmund nodded, feeling more at ease. Witnessing the human side of his savior made him more inclined to believe the knight's words, which sounded plausible and reasonable.

In the series, Lyn Corbray was portrayed as a scoundrel, ready to do anything for coin. He pursued Lysa Arryn, eager to claim the position of consort to the widow of the Lord of the Vale, and when that failed, he allied himself with Baelish. He then assisted the Mockingbird in leading the members of the Pact astray, earning a handsome reward and boys for his pleasure, which said much about his character.

Yet now, he stood before Edmund as a different man. Just as ruthless towards his enemies, but not sunk in despair, which had led him down a treacherous path. After all, under Robert's reign, there was no shortage of tournaments in any of the Seven Kingdoms, even in the North. It was not for nothing that the Manderlys had once been a house of the Reach rather than the North. The king was quite generous with rewards, and even if one did not secure the top spots, there were always opportunities to win money through betting against specific opponents.

In truth, Lyn was thriving during this time, enjoying life and the easy coin that came to him due to his martial prowess. When Jon Arryn died, Corbray had hoped to settle on his native soil through a marriage to the relatively young widow and perhaps even start a family, gaining a home. However, that plan fell apart, and as luck would have it, the War of the Five Kings began, putting an end to Lyn's customary means of earning a living for the foreseeable future. During crises and conflicts, the demand for most tournaments dwindles, though not entirely. In the end, having lost his source of income, Baelish, well aware of Lyn's situation, approached him with an easy job that piqued Corbray's interest.

The only element that did not fit into this picture was Lyn Corbray's attraction to the opposite sex, but Edmund cared little for that. The part concerning Edmund Gardener desperately needed loyal followers, while the part relating to Louis MacMurphy's memories was completely indifferent to the knight's orientation, as long as he did not try to make advances. Perhaps it was also true that Corbray had not yet developed that aspect of himself, and only after prolonged rejections from Lysa Arryn—who was not the most beautiful of women—had he developed a sense of inadequacy. After all, anything could happen, and the human soul is a dark place.

Now, before Edmund stood the knight who had saved him and Camrit from death and cared for them in their painful state for the third consecutive day. The owner of a Valyrian sword and a warrior of no small renown, well-versed in the terrain and the customs of the modern Seven Kingdoms. A veritable treasure trove of knowledge and information. And simply surviving alongside him was much easier than traveling alone, when any resistance Edmund could offer would only come at night. If the native of the Vale truly was so impressed by the signs of the Seven that he would forsake his service to Robert, it would be a sin not to embrace such a gift of fate.

"Tell me something else, my lord Lyn," Edmund decided to press on with a series of probing questions.

"Your attention, my lord Edmund," Corbray responded, patiently awaiting the Gardener's thoughts.

"Why me? Setting aside the matter of the Seven and their designs, why me and not King Robert?" Edmund posed his question, attempting to understand how the knight of the Vale perceived him.

"Hmm." Corbray pondered, stroking his chin and gazing into the smoldering embers of the extinguished fire. "Truth be told, there lies a long story behind that, my lord Edmund."

"I'm in no rush," Edmund replied, perhaps a bit disingenuously. And though the Seven had not set a deadline for his arrival at the Isle of Faces, it seemed essential to him to reach it as soon as possible to gain answers and additional support in this new life.

"Very well, as you wish," Corbray nodded, removing his travel cloak. The clouds in the sky dispersed, and the sun began to warm his skin with its dazzling rays.

"When the rebellion began, my father, Gwayne Corbray, the former lord of House Hearts, remained loyal to King Aerys. Alongside Grafton, he stood against Jon Arryn's army, but as you may know, he suffered defeat. However, unlike the lords of the Eyrie, Arryn valued my father's abilities and our house, especially since, legally, we were in the right, and circumstances did not warrant particularly harsh treatment of the Targaryen loyalists. Ultimately, my father, my brothers, and I joined the rebels, receiving Lord Arryn's pardon," Corbray began his tale, recalling events not long past.

"And after that, Robert trusted you?" Edmund asked in surprise, well aware of Robert's disdain for all loyalists.

"Robert trusted Jon Arryn, and that was enough for him to overlook the incident," Corbray explained. "Moreover, I distinguished myself in the Battle of the Trident. When my father, in his old age, was wounded and could no longer continue the fight, my brother Lionel dragged him to the maesters, while I, instead of fleeing, seized our ancestral blade." He drew the Valyrian sword from its scabbard, displaying it in all its glory. "And I cleaved the knight who had injured my father. Then I led an attack on the Dornish flank and slew Prince Liven Martell from the Royal Guard. For these deeds, I was granted knighthood, and my father subsequently bequeathed the Lost Lady into my keeping." Corbray concluded his account of his involvement in the Battle of the Trident.

"As for your question," he continued after a brief pause, sheathing his sword, "I will answer this way. When we fought for the Targaryens at the beginning of the rebellion, our house remained true to its oaths. When we fought against them, we fought for forgiveness and the ideal that the rebellion carried with it. A new king who would not burn people at the stake, whose children would not lose their sanity as often as the sun shines in the sky. That is what we fought for. And what did we get?" Corbray posed a rhetorical question. "A drunkard on the throne, who cares for no one and nothing but a pair of breasts and what lies between his legs. The crown is in debt, and though the populace is happy to have a head of state who will not start cutting them down for the slightest offense, the fact remains—Robert Baratheon is a king who should never have become one. What will arise from his children only the gods know, but knowing him—nothing good." Corbray finished his tirade, and for some reason, Edmund found it easy to believe that he spoke sincerely.

"Of course, it is not for me to ponder the people's welfare, but I live as I live, for I have no other king and no other land. At least, I had not. When you appeared, everything fell into place. The Seven have spoken, as they once did to Hugar. You are young, and as far as I can judge, an honorable man who would not harm the innocent. As a lord, you could gather followers and lead them towards the dream we once envisioned. Therefore, you must seize this opportunity with both hands and guide us all toward a new era, with no Lannisters to dominate our affairs."

"Could you elaborate?" Edmund inquired, intrigued by what Ser Lyn meant.

"Certainly. Your power is effective against ordinary weapons. Even Fell's silver axe could not breach that thorny barrier, yet my Valyrian sword met no resistance," Corbray shook his head. Edmund noted this weakness of his magic with interest.

"I see. What happened next?" he pressed, eager for details.

"It was simpler from there. Thanks to my experience in the Vale, I was able to pick up your trail almost immediately. When I spotted your camp near the Dark Hollow, and noticed you hadn't entered the town, we hurried to Appleton. We arrived only by evening, but I knew what to look for; I managed to find the septon's mantle you had discarded at one of the camps. After questioning the most frequented traders, we stumbled upon a herbalist's shop, where the proprietor was able to provide your description and the exact time of your visit. From there, it was not difficult to piece the facts together—you were still in the vicinity. With Lord Appleton's support, we took two archers from his household guard and set out to capture you. Upon discovering your campsite, I prepared for battle, ready to offer assistance and secure your favor. As our situation proved, my calculations were correct," Corbray recounted the pursuit.

"And what if I had been killed?" Edmund narrowed his eyes, displeased with the Vale knight's recklessness, which had put both him and Camrit in danger.

"I believed the Chosen of the Seven would not die so easily. Moreover, King Robert's command was clear—to bring you in alive, not dead," explained Ser Lyn, showing no signs of discomfort under Edmund's gaze.

"Well, that's clear. Are there any more scouts like you in Robert's company?" Edmund asked, genuinely impressed by the Vale knight's skills. Had he known of Corbray's capabilities earlier, he would have tried to move much faster and more stealthily.

"Unlikely. From the Vale, only I and a few knights from lesser houses have come to the tournament. King Robert does not know them, and thus will not call on them for another hunt. Besides, it would be futile, as all traces have long been washed away by the rain that fell this morning. I found you only because I had been on your heels, Ser Edmund. In any other circumstance, I would not have located you," Corbray reassured the Gardener, easing his rising paranoia.

Taking a deep breath, Edmund rose from the ground. Daylight had arrived, illuminating the fresh foliage after the rain. Camrit, along with his new raven-colored companion, continued to graze, oblivious to their masters discussing trivialities. Drops of water on the grass from the rain began to evaporate.

"Well, Lyn. Thank you for satisfying my curiosity. I think we can now set out. All that remains is to pack up camp," Edmund noted, having exhausted his list of questions for the time being.

"Then I shall take care of that. You still need your rest, Ser Edmund. Even I am surprised to have accumulated so many scars in a single week, especially on my face," Corbray remarked, shaking his head as he drew Edmund's attention to the gray bandage on his neck, slightly stained with blood from the wound inflicted by Horace Fell's sharp axe.

"Oh," Edmund exclaimed, surprised by this discovery.

The bandage was nearly imperceptible, making it quite difficult to notice without a mirror. Removing it, Edmund touched the barely healed wound; though it had stopped bleeding, he could still feel the pain from his touch. Corbray had already departed to gather their belongings, leaving Edmund alone on the warm grass.

His attempt to assist the proud knight had ended in defeat, as he met the bewildered gaze of the owner of Lady Despair. Waving off the peculiarities of his first knight in this new life, Edmund hurried to mount Camrit and see how he would manage in the saddle. After all, he had never managed to do so after the purchase, having been caught up in a fight with knights sent by King Robert.

Fifteen minutes later, Corbray joined Edmund on his horse and, positioning himself alongside, began to lead their small group northward, toward the Isle of Faces. A sense of calm filled Edmund's heart as he looked toward the future. With a warrior like Lyn Corbray by his side, he felt he could face many of the dangers that lay ahead.