Wow, I did not expect that well of a reception in the reviews after posting that first chapter. Thank you, to those of you that have reviewed and are now currently following this little side project. On the whole lack of magic being used against the Ironborn during the last chapter's fight, I'm sorry that they didn't use them. It was one of those things that completely slipped my mind and I've since revisited the Inheritance Cycle books and studied multiple wikis to refresh my knowledge of Christopher Paolini's more than broken high magic system. I've also slightly edited the first chapter to fix what I forgot to put in.

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Eragon, Saphira, Kolmas, Blödhgarm, and Dimia woke up early, as the sun started cresting over the trees. Cuaroc had watched over them all while they rested. The metal half dragon, half humanoid Eldunarí not truly needing any rest due to his body's magic-infused nature drawing very small amounts of power from his heart of hearts. From what Cuaroc had seen, there was no real intrusion from anything throughout the night, only the stray deer passing through and usually away from the dragon held clearing as soon as they stumbled upon the blue dragon in slumber.

"Who is going with you while you travel on the ground?" Blödhgarm asked as all the humanoid organic beings in the camp finished eating a meager helping of fruits and nuts for their morning meal.

The party had decided to ration what little food they had until they found a better source of nourishment or were able to make contact with the local governing body. Saphira wasn't counted in the group due to having set out hunting as stealthily as she could on the mountain range close by and hopefully do some advanced scouting about an hour before the rest of the party had woken. From Saphira's conversation with Eragon when he woke up, she stated that she should be on her way back in little over a minute from what she had told Eragon.

From what she had relayed, the lands beyond their camp in the forest clearing were full of nothing but ashen valleys with some living patches of grassland and sparsely forested areas around a minor stream. A road was marked out about two miles to the South running East to West. A large port and several keeps laid in the West and the burned valleys were in the more inland area.

"Kolmas will be with me on the ground," Eragon replied and at the quizzical stare Blödhgarm gave him he elaborated, "from what little we've seen of the people in this land, they seem at least primarily human."

"So you want to take the most human among us with you so you don't gather attention?" Saphira guessed as she landed next to the eggs and Eldunarí and curled her body around the pile of bags.

"No, not exactly," Eragon shrugged as he walked over to one of the sacks holding the Eldunarí and reached over her tail to pull a golden one out, "I'm giving the rest of you the task of protecting the eggs and most of the Eldunarí in ower possession. Glaedr will be coming with the ground party to assist with anything we might need, whether it be for council, or to help with a particularly complicated spell."

"I'll do what I can," Glaedr said, projecting his response to everyone in the clearing.

"The rest of you will stay with, Saphira. Protect her and her cargo," Eragon continued as he placed Glaedr into his travel bag, containing a small assortment of food and an extra pair of clothes, "any questions?"

"What will you be doing?" Blödhgarm asked curiously.

"It's obvious that this place is in the middle of a bloody war so we'll be getting some attention, gather more detailed information, heal the lands that have been burned and cure the afflicted," the young Dragon Rider clarified, "so I'll be doing my job, protecting the realms and if we're lucky, one of the factions will seek us out."

"That is a very dangerous plan, Shadeslayer," Kolmas commented, "what happens if the faction that finds us wants us dead?"

"We're damned if we do, and damned if we don't," Eragon said as he fidgeted with Aren, his family ring, feeling the power he'd spent the last year and month after the war against Galbatorix refilling, "it's either we do this, saving many lives in the process or we all hide long enough for those in Alagaësia to send a fleet to get us home and uncountable amounts of good, innocent people die in whatever is happening or will happen. I for one would sleep a lot better trying to help than sitting on the sidelines."

"Hard to argue with that," Dimia muttered as she checked the string of her bow.

"I wish you luck in what's to come," Blödhgarm nodded his head toward Eragon.

"Don't fret much, once I have us established here with one faction or another, you can show yourselves," Eragon affirmed, "it'll be impossible to hide Saphira and the rest of you for long anyway."

"What's that supposed to mean," Saphira huffed, tilting her head up to focus an eye on her rider.

"You've gotten much larger and I don't think you can hide in the forests and mountains of this land like you used to do in Carvahall," Eragon stated as he slung his bag over his shoulder and draped one of the cloaks across his back, lifting up the hood high enough to obscure his features slightly, "come, we have much traveling to do before night falls."

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Eragon and Kolmas spent the next three days traveling eastward along the major road that Saphira had pointed out. The lands were much worse for wear than Saphira had said they were and healing it consumed great quantities from their magic reserves. The blue gem in Brisingr was depleted of energy by the second day before nightfall.

There were few villages or farmhouses along the road, most of them having been put to the torch long before Eragon arrived in the area, leaving behind only smoking ruins if even that. For the buildings that still stood in any livable state, they consisted mostly of the odd farm or windmill and that was only because they were made of stone.

"HELP!" a group of three people ran from the treeline to the left, next to the road Eragon and Kolmas walked.

The group of three consisted of one older male around his late 30's, bleeding badly from an arrow in his lower thigh. In his arms, a young boy of no more than three or four crying in fear of what was chasing them or from the burned skin of his left arm hangs by his side. A female of about the same age as the man hobbled along with them trying to keep up. Her dress was torn, bloody and caked mud like she had tripped in a river or something of that nature while they had run. As soon as the older man spotted them he stopped, the woman falling in to hide behind what was obviously her husband. The older man looked from Eragon who stood completely still to Kolmas who had his hand on his sword, undrawn from his scabbard.

"Easy now, Kolmas, remove your hand from your weapon," Eragon ordered after touching Kolmas' mind. The elf did as he was told but kept a trained eye on the three strangers.

"Who do you fight for?" the older man spoke first, allowing Eragon to know which language he spoke, "Lannister or Stark."

"Nether, good sir," Eragon answered the man's question, holding his hands away from his sides and blade, "do you need healing? We are skilled in lesser wounds like those."

The older man pondered the question for a second, not really wanting to trust the armed strangers in front of them. He looked down toward his son, crying and clutching at his chest in fear and pain before turning his gaze back toward Eragon with a desperate hope in his eyes.

"Yes," the man sighed as he felt his strength finally starting to leave his being.

Eragon looked to Kolmas and nodded before approaching the scared family. It took Eragon and company a few minutes to backtrack to one of the windmills they'd spotted before they had gotten to work on helping the poor souls they'd come across. The trip was taken in complete silence, Eragon not knowing exactly what to say to these people, Kolmas staying silent due to not knowing human tongue, and the family most likely not knowing if they could trust Eragon on his word or not.

"We should be safe here for now," Eragon stated as he motioned for the two parents to sit down, "which one of you wants to go first?"

"What do you plan to do?" the female asked as she brought her knees to her chest and huddled into herself.

"Heal you," Eragon shrugged.

"Don't you mean bandage?" the male asked this time, perplexed by Eragon's words.

"Well it's more like I'm sealing the wounds with magic," Eragon clarified only to get more confused looks from the two but the child's glance was different, a little bit of pain and childish wonder in his eyes, "I swear it won't hurt, it might itch but won't actually hurt you."

"What should we do?"... "I don't know, I can't run anymore we need to give him the benefit of the doubt not like it could hurt us anymore than we already are." The two adults looked to each other and spoke quietly thinking that Eragon couldn't hear them before looking back to him.

"Okay, I'll go first," the male said sitting his child down and failing to stand back to his feet, "just to make sure this isn't a scam."

"Understandable," Eragon nodded, remembering when he didn't think magic was real. He moved to kneel next to the older man, removing the arrow carefully by pushing it through the other side of the leg. The man grunted in pain as the arrow left his body and Eragon rolled the pant leg up enough to see the wound. He lifted his gedwëy ignasia speaking the words "waíse heill" as he did so, making the older man's eyes grow wide as he saw the wound close and disappear completely from his leg.

"By the seven," the older man gasped as felt his leg, finding nothing, not even a scar, only smooth skin under his fingers, "what's your name boy?"

"Eragon," the Dragon Rider stated as he looked over the area where an arrow wound once sat.

"I've never seen anything like this, where do you come from?"

"The far west, you wouldn't know it," Eragon answered and continued speaking before the man could ask anything else, "far beyond your western coast."

Eragon stood and walked over to the mother and child. The woman seemed to be fine, only a few scrapes and bruises on her person. The child, on the other hand, was in a sorry state and Eragon was astonished he was still awake. His arm up to the shoulder was completely burned and looked to have a growing infection of dark pus spreading from his elbow joint up and down his arm.

"Who would do this to a child?" Eragon asked in pity of the young lad he was examining.

"Lannisters tried to burn us with our house because we barred the door and would have killed us if our oldest didn't sacrifice himself to buy us time to run for the tree line," the mother explained, "they've been hunting us ever since."

"How long ago was this?" Eragon questioned in disgust.

"Two days ago," the mother clarified.

"Kolmas, I need your help with this one," Eragon commanded in the ancient language as he placed his gedwëy ignasia against the boy's arm at the elbow, making the poor lad whimper as the dragon rider looked to the boy's mother, "hold him, he's going to want to squirm."

Kolmas immediately sat beside Eragon and both started to chant healing fraises in the ancient language. The boy immediately started squirming as the pus drained out of his arm like a keg with a hole punched in it. The only thing keeping the boy from scratching at it is his mother who had pinned his good hand between her front and his side, and was hugging him tightly as she watched her baby boy's mangled arm start shifting from burned, rotting meat to a withered, scarred thing with a slight pinkish color and back to the color and shape of a healthy human arm as the healing process to hold.

"It tickles," the boy laughed as the healing process finished and his mother held him even tighter as if she was about to lose him again.

"What is that language you speak?" the father asked, coming over after the two had stopped their singing, "I've never heard anything like it before."

"It's the language of magic from my homeland, its name is long forgotten and buried in time," Eragon explained with a smile.

"It is no magic it's the blessings of the gods," the mother cried with joy as she watched her son's formerly burned, rotting, crippled arm start moving, good as new once again. The merriment was cut short however when the family of three grew pale at the sounds of dogs barking around the building they were in.

"Shadeslayer," Kolmas called out to get Eragon's attention, "there are more humans outside. A hunting party of ten with plate armor and red cloaks."

Eragon stood and walked over to stand next to Kolmas, hand on Brisingr as he peeked out the shattered window. True enough, ten armored forms on horseback surrounded the windmill, steel swords in hand. Four bloodhounds were with them, all the dogs stood snarling as they faced the front door.

"Come out in the name of King Joffrey Baratheon!" the lead soldier commanded in a grizzled tone, "or we will torch you out!"

Eragon looked toward the family that he'd just healed, probing their minds with the utmost care not to let them know or hurt them to see what exactly was going on. Finding nothing but fear and confusion for why they were being hunted the dragon rider looked back out the window at the clearly bloodthirsty soldiers preparing to make true on their threats. Eragon nodded to Kolmas to get him away from the window and made a gesture for the family to be quiet and don't move.

As one Eragon and Kolmas stepped out of the windmill, hands at their sides, their cloaks hiding their faces and weapons from view. When they stepped out Eragon shot into the minds of the bloodhounds to make them mellow out and calm down. The soldiers looked slightly perplexed as their hunting dogs sat down quietly where they once were snarling and mad.

"Good morning," Eragon spoke as cheery as he could muster while he stepped forward, "what do you want from us?"

"Have you spotted a group of three, coming this way?" the lead soldier inquisitioned, a nasty scowl present on his features, "they are suspected of treason and for suspected affiliation with the Brotherhood Without Banners."

"I can't say I have," Eragon lied, as he looked at the man's face, it was easy enough to tell that the soldier didn't believe him to an extent, "we have just woken up after a long march on foot the last couple days."

"Where are you heading?" the lead soldier asked.

"East, we are adventures from across your western sea a-"

"Yeah right, if you're from beyond the Sunset Sea then I'm the bloody Lord of Casterly Rock," a different soldier snickered, cutting Eragon's explanation off.

"Lord Tywin will want to speak with them if they are from across the Sunset Sea," a soldier next to his leader spoke up.

"And if their not?" one that mocked Eragon asked as he rolled his eyes.

"The Mountain will have fun interrogating them," one next to his leader shrugged.

"Fine," the leader of the band of soldiers sighed and looked toward the one who suggested taking them to this Lord Tywin, "you will escort them there, the rest of us will continue to hunt those traitors."

The nine other riders set off back down the road, their dogs following behind them. This left only Eragon, Kolmas and the soldier instructed to bring them to his lord. Inside Eragon's mind, he breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that the family within the windmill would survive for a little while longer. The soldier spurred his horse to trot in the opposite direction from the road his companions had traveled.

"If I may ask, why is the land burned?" Eragon asked walking on the left side of the soldier's horse, Kolmas falling in line behind him.

"You've arrived during the War of the Five Kings, the burning is Lord Tywin's hand. It used to be a much prettier place," the soldier clarified, "Lord Tywin is trying to starve out the false King in the North Robb Stark or as his people call him 'The Young Wolf' and his armies."

"Is this 'Lord Tywin' a king two?" Eragon asked perplexed with the name of this war, a war of five kings, what kind of madness did we stumble across?

The soldier laughed at the question before turning his head toward Eragon, "no he's Warden of the West and King Joffrey's grandfather, you would have at least known that if you had landed in Lannisport when you started your travels."

"Well then we missed out, we were attacked by raiders and ended up washing ashore three days march back that way along the river," Eragon stated as he pointed his finger back the way that they'd come from, "been walking ever since."

"Dreadful times," the soldier sighed as he scratched his small growth of a beard, "it's a damn shame when you can't go any direction without someone wanting to slit your throat."

"Agreed," Eragon nodded.

"What's your name anyway, if you don't mind me asking?" the soldier asked.

"I'm, Eragon," the dragon rider said and turned his head toward his elf friend, "he's Kolmas, doesn't speak our tongue but understands it. You?"

"Ser Edward, I'm a hedge knight currently in service to House Lannister," Edward stated gesturing to the red cloak he wore on his shoulders, "oh, by the way, welcome to Westeros."

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As I wrote this chapter I've kept bouncing between setting this story within the range of a little before the Battle of Blackwater Bay and passed the events of the Red Wedding. I swear that I've written at least 10 different outcomes for this chapter alone to make sure that things fit and make sense in a logical way and thought up a good 50 that I never put down on paper. No wonder Martin hasn't finished writing The Winds of Winter and A Dream of Spring yet if it's this hard to work one character to fit into certain events than it would be downright impossible to do it with a total of 35+ characters.