Chapter 42: The Ghost of Whitewalls (Part III)
But history was unkind to House Darry yet again.
Just south of this inn, on the banks of the Trident, the decisive battle took place.
Robert Baratheon led his army south and met the royalist forces commanded by Prince Rhaegar Targaryen—Daenerys's brother. A fierce battle ensued. During the fighting, Robert's warhammer struck Rhaegar's chest, shattering the rubies from his breastplate and killing him. It was in that same battle that the three brothers of Ser Raymun Darry, the current Lord of Castle Darry, fell.
The subsequent collapse of the Targaryen dynasty cost House Darry much of their lands, wealth, and power—even their status as lords.
By now, all the great houses along the northeastern shores of the Gods Eye had been either destroyed or reduced to shadows, poised to be swept away entirely in the coming War of the Five Kings.
Come to think of it, since there are no great houses on the southwestern shore of the Gods Eye either, maybe it's not Harrenhal that's cursed—maybe it's the lake itself.
"Well, there truly is no great lord here," Ian said, adjusting his hair awkwardly. "So who holds these lands now?"
"After the fall of Darry and Harrenhal, the entire northeastern shore of the Gods Eye was divided among nearly forty landed knight families. The largest hold small castles and estates—like Ser Wilder Grey, Ser Willy Ward, and our second-in-command, Ser Harrison Garth. The smallest hold nothing but a mill."
Same fate as Littlefinger, then.
"Ever since Lord Raymun became Ser Raymun, he's completely lost interest in governing these lands. As a result, the real powers in this region are our Blackwing Company and the knight alliance led by Ser Wilder.
The appearance of this well-equipped, well-trained bandit company—mostly cavalry—threw the balance of power into chaos."
"You couldn't face such a dangerous enemy alone, so you sought help?"
"You really do see everything." Dorian was prepared for Ian's perceptiveness by now, so he didn't seem too surprised. "Yes. We immediately sent ravens to Harrenhal, Castle Darry, and Ser Wilder's keep to inform them.
They didn't respond, and naturally we couldn't face such a powerful enemy on our own. The known strength of the Whitewalls bandits was only about twenty riders, and our entire company numbers over two hundred, but we're sellswords. We're not about to charge headlong into cavalry for no profit.
We waited through the second month while the attacks on the Kingsroad grew more frequent. The brothers we sent on escort contracts took heavy losses.
At that point, we couldn't just let things continue, so my adoptive father called another council of captains.
In the end, we decided to contract our sphere of influence and defend only our existing strongholds. The core companies wouldn't accept mercenary contracts for the time being... we could only preserve our most trusted men. The vassal companies were on their own—after all, we weren't paying their wages.
Shortly after we made this decision, Ser Wilder—who'd ignored us before—showed up at our door uninvited."
Dorian had spoken at length and his throat was dry, so he refilled his cup and downed it in one gulp.
"And this time, he brought explosive news. The new bandit company that appeared at Whitewalls was connected to the Blackfyres."
Ian straightened in his seat. Here we go.
"Ser Wilder told us his story. He'd just finished competing in a tourney at King's Landing and was riding home to his lands. When he passed through Dormand's village, night had fallen, so he planned to stay there and continue his journey the next morning.
That night, the village was attacked by mounted bandits. When Ser Wilder woke, half the village was already burning. He grabbed his weapons and rushed from his room without a second thought.
He talked for quite a while—I can't remember all the details. But eventually he cornered one of the bandits in a mud-brick house and fought him there. During the struggle, he cut through the man's cloak with a single stroke, revealing the black three-headed dragon of House Blackfyre on his breastplate.
Once he realized his opponent wore plate armor on his upper body, he adjusted his tactics. He focused his attacks on the joints—the weak points in the armor. Within moments, using precise technique, he managed to sever his opponent's right forearm, leaving him unable to fight.
But just as he was about to finish his opponent, he heard footsteps rushing toward the house. Knowing reinforcements were coming, he abandoned the kill and fled."
"Didn't you say you couldn't remember the details? Why do you sound like you were there?" Ian asked with a smile.
"Only that part stuck with me. Ser Wilder described a technique for fighting fully armored opponents—something called 'half-swording.' Since I've never faced a man in full plate, that part burned itself into my memory."
"Fair enough. Continue."
"The news Ser Wilder brought was so shocking that even my adoptive father and the other captains could barely believe what he'd seen," Dorian continued.
"After all, the last Blackfyre descendant—Maelys the Monstrous—was slain by Ser Barristan the Bold in the War of the Ninepenny Kings. For Blackfyre remnants to suddenly appear now? No wonder nobody believed it." Ian nodded. Hell, I don't believe it either.
"Exactly! That's what we said at the time. But Ser Wilder swore on his honor that he truly saw the black dragons. His conviction, combined with the fact that the bandits operated near Whitewalls, did lend the story some credibility.
Eventually, everyone agreed to launch a joint operation. After all, if we could find evidence connected to the Blackfyres, we could ride to King's Landing and claim credit from the Iron Throne. That kind of achievement—"
"—would be enough to see many of your sellswords knighted." Ian agreed.
"This joint operation was organized in the names of Ser Wilder and my adoptive father. We gathered every scattered sellsword company we could find in the area. We sent invitations to Harrenhal and Castle Darry again, this time stating that the enemy might be Blackfyre loyalists.
Lady Whent of Harrenhal ignored us as usual, while Darry sent a sworn sword, four spearmen, and four crossbowmen—just enough to fulfill their minimal obligations to these lands."
(End of Chapter)
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