Chapter 16 - Horses, Hawks, Assassins and Brothers

Disclaimer:

I don’t own the characters or the world appearing in this story, they are creations and property of the fantastic George R. R. Martin. I’m not sure if I can claim my OCs as my own, so I’ll play it safe and dedicate them to GRRM.

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[Year - 298 AC]

“Ha, ha, ha,” Harry laughed rather maniacally as he rode out the gates, leaving behind the castle walls. The men manning the walls looked on in confusion, wondering why he was leaving just as soon as he’d arrived.

“Alright, that was enough fun to last a while, I reckon,” he said to himself once he’d moved a ways from the castle.

Securing himself, he leaned down from his position on the horseback to get in earshot of Duncan – his palfrey horse.

“Duncan, keep straight and aim for the woods. Look for recently trodden horse tracks, it should probably be a day old,” Harry instructed. Duncan neighed in response.

Relaxing himself and tightening his hold on the reins, he let himself go. Harry’s head slumped backwards at an odd angle, as his eyes rolled back. His consciousness came alive far above in the sky. His vision multiplied a thousand times and he could see for miles. His hearing got better exponentially as well, and he could hear the thudding of Duncan’s hooves as the horse ran directly below him. Glancing downwards, he could see his body slumped to the point of falling, although he knew it wouldn’t. He’d secured it for this very particular event.

Making sure that there was not a soul in sight for the next few leagues, he shot through into the forest – his speed reaching hundreds of miles an hour. His mind was exhilarated beyond measure and Harry was sure that his body down on the horse must be twitching in excitement.

“Aaahhh,” he sighed, “the human mind is not made for such excitement…”

Warging into a hawk was always an enjoyable experience. But, It had also been the first time Harry had experienced the immense hold an animal's mind could have on him while warging.

The hawk had been a gift from Willas; the man had made it a hobby of breeding them. It had been majestic when he’d first received it and Harry had made it better. The addition of the hawk gave him a fourth addition to his posse of warging companions. With Falcon – the name he’d given to the hawk rather ironically – added to the group, he now had Moony, White Corvus, Duncan and Falcon.

Warging had been an all too simple task at the beginning. Moony had bonded easily with him, his Stark blood helping immensely. Corvus and Duncan had been agreeable as well. Corvus the raven had only been a chick and Duncan had been raised in captivity. Falcon, however, had nearly taken over his mind. The sheer ecstasy he felt from entering the hawk’s mind – feeling the extreme sense of freedom a hawk felt on a constant basis; it had nearly crippled his human nature, and Harry, for the first time, understood the dangers of warging.

For the next hour or so, Harry immersed himself in tracking Garlan through the woods. Time was of no essence as he constantly picked up tracks and rejected them to find the one he was looking for. Finally, his search yielded as his sharp eyes picked up a trail that matched the time frame and had the appropriate number of footprints to match Garlan’s retinue.

Harry gave up his hold on Falcon, as he returned back to his insipid human prison. His mind was assaulted by a rush of euphoria, and he struggled not to groan.

“Fhooo,” he exhaled heavily through his mouth as he calmed himself. He might be as strong as the Mountain, but strength could never be as exhilarating as flight. Spending large amounts of time in Falcon was not good for his heart.

“Well then,” he said to Duncan. “There’s our quarry,” he announced, pointing in the direction where he’d discovered the tracks.

“Giddy up!” he yelled and the horse galloped into the woodlands.

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“I thought I’d be rid of them once I left Horn Hill… haven’t I dealt with enough of these fuckers,” Harry bemoaned.

The tracks had not led to Garlan as he’d expected, but to what seemed like illegal loggers who had been operating out of the Tyrell lands.

The loggers had a motley crew of four men and a team of horses, which they were using to pull the logs they’d felled. It was the number of horses that had led Harry astray.

“Alright, you lot, halt and drop your weapons,” Harry said, walking out of his hiding place.

“A knight!” one of them shouted. Harry did not bother to correct him.

The loggers were middle-aged men, who’d lost whatever hot blood they might have had a long time ago. They judged the situation well, not bothering to fight or even run. Fighting might have lost them their lives immediately whereas running would have cost them their lives a week later. They could not afford to leave behind their horses. The horses made their entire livelihood.

One at a time, they dropped their axes, and one of them moved to talk to him.

“My lord, you seem like a hedge knight, surely bringing us in wouldn’t be a profitable endeavour,”

Harry could see how these men had survived stealing from the Tyrells, they weren’t entirely without balls.

“What would you suggest?” Harry asked.

“A share of profits from selling the log. I think that would suffice nicely,”

Harry was impressed, but he couldn’t really make time to deal with these men. And he wasn't bothered enough to waste time in capturing them either.

“That wouldn’t do. I can’t bother to keep track of you lot,” Harry said. “Just give me whatever you have on you.”

“That’s too much my lord!” the man complained.

“Either that or I kill you and take it myself,” Harry said threateningly. He could pull it off quite well with his impressive build and disguised face.

Reluctantly the man pulled out his pouch and threw it at him. Catching it, Harry nodded at the other three.

“All of you,”

One by one they all threw their pouches at him. Harry laughed scathingly, emulating Leo to the best of his ability, as he looked through their contents.

“All stags and no dragons? It’s not too bad I suppose,” he sneered. “Well, you might as well be on your way. There’s a group of Tyrell men on a hunt, so best make haste.”

Turning away, he opened the last pouch. Gold Dragons? Harry thought to himself a little surprised. Digging through the pouch, he stopped abruptly. An Iron Coin!

“Fuck!” he yelled as he dodged sideways to escape the dagger, just in time to hear two bodies drop.

“What are you doing!?” yelled the last surviving logger.

The faceless man regarded Harry, his face entirely blank as he ignored the other man.

“Shut up,” Harry ordered the last logger, who had fallen down in shock and started to weep.

“Are you here for me?” Harry asked; now giving the faceless man his full attention.

The faceless man slowly moved to the last logger, who whimpered as he crawled away. Bending down, he grasped the logger's face and slowly drew a Valyrian steel dagger across his neck. The man died slowly, choking on his own blood.

“I’m afraid the red god hasn’t ordered his mercy on you,” the faceless man spoke, his voice fluid and inflectionless.

Harry read the man’s mind to gather the same information. It had indeed truly been a coincidence. The man had no idea who he was.

“Spying on the Tyrells have you?” Harry asked, trying to get the information to the forefront of the man’s mind.

“A dead man need not care for the intentions of the living,”

Harry closed his eyes and his mouth quirked upwards. “Fuck you too.”

“Valar Morghu–” the faceless man began only to stop as he was thrown backwards in impact. His mouth opened in pain, but it didn’t let out any sound. His eyes were wide as he glanced down at his torso; only to see a bird embedded in him, feeding on his heart.

“As a keeper, I’ll find your soul later,” Harry said, before driving his spear through the man’s face.

Stepping back, he clicked his tongue as he glanced around at the scene. All he had wanted was to enjoy a good hunt with his friend. Just his luck to run into a faceless man who’d ingratiated himself with a band of illegal loggers. Just his luck indeed.

He moved around the area as he threw their bodies into his inventory. The hawk whistled as he took away its feed.

“You’ll get plenty when we join the hunt. For now, find me Garlan,” he said to Falcon. The hawk whistled again before returning to its search.

He picked up the dagger. At least he’d come out a little richer from the encounter.

Taking a look at his status he threw in the dagger as well.

[ Status

Name: Harold Stark (Wolf in the South)

LVL: 2

STR: 3

END: 2

DEX: 2

CHA: 3

INT: 2

WIS: 2

Points: 0

Perks

Gamer’s Mind

Gamer’s Body

Skill

Mind Reading

Observe

Warging (Self-Learnt) ]

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Harry found Garlan’s camp sometime after nightfall.

“Who goes there?” called out the man on watch as he sauntered into their camp.

“It’s Harold Stark,” Harry spoke out, moving his cloak out of the way to show the man his sigil.

The man bowed in greeting. “My lord,” he said, “Lord Garlan’s resting in his tent.”

Harry nodded in turn and passed off the reins to the man. “I’ll find him myself, you can return to your duty.”

He walked straight to the largest tent in the camp. Pushing through the flap, he saw Garlan running a cloth over his sword.

“What is– Harry!” Garlan uttered, surprised.

“Garlan!? What are you doing here?” Harry voiced out in return.

“Bastard,” Garlan smiled. “I wanted to get away a while and you still followed me here,” he shook his head fondly.

“Get away?” Harry asked as he settled onto the bedding. “What’s worrying you?”

Garlan looked pained and more than a little scared by whatever was affecting him.

“Nothing you need to worry about my friend,” he said finally.

Harry put on a doubtful expression but didn’t press the matter.

“Right,” he said, “hunt anything worthwhile?”

“I speared a deer and tried my bow on some pheasants and partridges, but you know how I’m with a bow,” Garlan said.

“Just the deer then,” Harry laughed.

Garlan glared but relented. “Yes,” he said meekly.

“That won’t do at all,” Harry declared, “a competition then. We’ll let our hawks out tomorrow. The man with the better hawk wins.”

“Your hawk is better, this is skewed in your favour,” Garlan said dryly.

“Size isn’t everything Garlan,” Harry said with a wink.

Garlan rolled his eyes.

“Would you prefer we use our bows then?” Harry asked.

“Hawks it is,” Garlan affirmed.

Harry stifled a laugh and Garlan chuckled, soon they were both laughing. Harry laid a hand on Garlan’s shoulder. “It’s good to see you again, Garlan.”

“It is for me as well,” Garlan replied.

“So… care to share your worry with me?” Harry asked as he took out his own sword to polish.

Garlan sighed. Harry could feel the turmoil in his head.

“It – it is about Loras,” Garlan spluttered out quickly as if to get it out before he could change his mind.

“Loras…?” Harry asked.

“Yes, he – er – it was something that happened soon after his return,” Garlan continued.

“Did it now? He seemed fine when I fought him,” Harry said.

“Righ– what!? When did you fight him?” Garlan cried out.

“I was at Highgarden this morning – never mind about that, I’ll let you know later… let’s get on with your problem, come on now,”

“Alright. I – I – er – this is a little awkward for me to recount,” Garlan said with a sigh, his face contorted in apprehension.

Harry nodded.

“I walked in on him in bed,” Garlan spoke quickly. “He was with Renly.”

“Oh,” Harry said, his thoughts running fast. “Oh no.”

“Yes,” Garlan said, “I have been conflicted about what to do with the knowledge. It’s been eating at me, Harry.”

“Have you told anyone?” Harry asked cautiously.

“I haven’t, although I suspect grandmother knows,” He replied.

Harry quirked an eyebrow. “Why is that?”

“I asked after the guards. The room was unguarded when I entered and It wouldn’t do to leave a prince roaming around alone now, would it?” Garlan said. “They were dismissed on grandmother’s orders.”

“That’s telling,” Harry agreed, “I would advise that you leave the topic untouched for the foreseeable future.”

Garlan moved to speak but Harry cut him off.

“But, you can use the knowledge to protect him. This information can do a lot of harm in the wrong hands.”

“I don’t know if I should, Harry. It’s unnatural,” Garlan said, a little resigned.

“Why should it be? The gods don’t call it a sin,” Harry stated.

“It still is unnatural. We aren’t like the Dornish, Harry. People don’t take well to such news,” Garlan argued.

“You won’t call it unnatural when you know some of the things I do,” Harry said mysteriously, his voice a little low.

“And what is that?” Garlan questioned in an irate tone.

“Let me keep my secrets,” Harry said with a smile.

“Why say it at all then?” Garlan muttered.

“I thrive on the mystery,” He replied. “But more importantly, do it to protect your brother. He will always be one to you, after all,”

Garlan nodded as he took a long breath.

“I hope, I’ve lessened at least some of your burden?” Harry asked.

Garlan snorted. “You’ve only made it worse.”

“I take offence to that,” Harry said with a frown.

“I don’t care,” Garlan replied with a smile.