Chapter II

The Kingswood

"I wish Luna were here to see this." Byron looked longingly at the trees. "She loves the forest. Hates the cold." They remained silent, and Byron looked at the trees more. Few deigned to point out the irony that the girl who had her skin burned to the bone hated cold.

Lyla smiled after a minute. "She loves the trees at home well enough, and she'll be safer, away from King's Landing." A moment later, she spoke again. "Not even the rats in the streets should be cursed to live there."

"Perhaps not." He mused. "But the Lannisters sure seem to want to."

"A Lannister is less than a rat." She laughed. "They're welcome to it, the Baratheons and Targaryens too. You couldn't threaten me to live there again."

They came to an abrupt halt, and he held up his hand. Nine figures ahead of them came in shadows, one atop a horse and eight others on their feet. In their silhouettes were swords and crossbows. "Bandits." He observed. "Lyla, get behind us. Everyone else, off your horses and get ready for anything." They all obeyed, and in a moment their weapons were out. Marcus wielded a long, slender sword with no crossguard that curved heavily, Tyra with a bastard sword held in one hand, the Wildlings both with bows, and the knights with longswords and shields half as tall as they.

The figures rode out and into the light from under the trees, the one on the horse wearing fine clothes embroidered with gold. "Greetings." He smiled, waving at them, and Byron held up his hand in response. "I won't waste your time or mine, we've got a few hundred other travellers to do this to. Common fare, hand over your gold, your horses and your women, and we'll be on our way."

"Well when you put it that way, you sound right neighborly." Byron chuckled. "I'm afraid the answer is no. King's Landing will take enough of our gold, the ride on the Kingsroad is long enough with the horses, and the women are friends. But since you asked nicely, I'll do so as well: Go home, and change your lives while you can."

The regal man smiled back at him. "I'm afraid that's not an option." At that, he held up a hand, and both of the men with crossbows lifted them and fired. Edward lifted his shield in time to stop the bolt that came at him; Rivers was not so lucky. His struck into his throat and deep, and he fell to his knees as blood poured in streams from his lips before he collapsed onto the forest floor. "Now that we understand each other." He smiled wider. "I will again repeat my request."

For a moment, they stood off, with Byron narrowing his eyes at the man, who grinned wider. After a tense few seconds, there was a long, dull thunk, and the regal man looked down in shock. An arrowhead was sticking out from his chest, where it had pierced through his back and through his chest. Looking past the man, Byron saw yet another figure in shadows, this one far away, holding the silhouette of a longbow. The regal man fell from his saddle, and did not move again.

After a stunned silence, Tyra made the first move, charging the closest man and slashing her sword through his neck, partially decapitating him. The rest of the battlefield broke out into chaos, with the Wildlings diving into covering bushes before firing their bows at the men, with Edward, Marcus and Tyra engaging the other swordsmen. More and more arrows came from the figure in the shadows, cutting them down.

Byron jumped from his saddle, and drew his blade. It was a dark blue blade, with the traditional silvery waves of Valyrian Steel. Only sharpened on the one side and with a very subtle curve, it was an unusual sword. Still, as he broke into their lines, the blade slashed through the bandits' armour as if biting through butter, sending broken men to the ground to remain still forever more.

In a moment, it was over. The bandits lay still, bloody and shattered in the dirt, the Timberwolves having emerged victorious. Looking upwards, he saw the shadow coming towards them. He was a hooded figure with a dark purple cloth pulled over his mouth to hide his features, only revealing darkened brown eyes looking outside into the world.

"Nice shooting." Tyra said at him, not yet putting away her sword. "That is, if you weren't aiming at us."

The stranger chuckled. "I always hit what I aim for. If it was you, you wouldn't be here to question that. Name's Warmonger. There's a hundred dragons on the dandy's head, came here to collect." She shrugged and looked back to Byron, who gazed at the boy, clearly recognizing him.

"Gods blood." He said. "Life hasn't been easy on you, has it lad?"

Warmonger looked up at him, glaring at him. "What do you mean by that?" After a moment of silence, Byron shook his head quietly, getting back onto his horse. The assassin shrugged it off, taking the head of the leader, then headed off in the opposite direction of the capital. "Bandits all over the woods, they know the tourney is coming." He warned. "Road should be clear, I've been killing bandits coming this way, but be careful."

With no further prompting form Byron, they began the final trek to King's Landing.