This is a smaller Chapter.
I will have a larger one out tommorow.
Lyonel POV
Lyonel walked behind Ser Hary and Ser Hendry as they followed Ser Brandon through the halls of Harvest Hall.
The castle felt alive in a way that Blackhaven hadn't been. Servants hurried through corridors carrying baskets and trays. Guards stood posted at corners with spears in hand. Somewhere deeper in the castle, Lyonel could hear the distant ringing of a smith's hammer against steel.
Harvest Hall was not as large as Blackhaven, but it was still a proper seat for a Marcher Lord.
Stone corridors twisted through the keep, lit by narrow windows that let in pale afternoon light. The air smelled faintly of smoke, leather, and cooked meat drifting from the kitchens.
Ser Brandon walked quickly, clearly used to the castle's maze of passages. He led them up a flight of stairs, down another hall, then up another set of worn stone steps before finally stopping before a heavy wooden door bound with iron.
He knocked firmly.
A voice answered from inside, hurried and slightly irritated.
"What is it?"
Ser Brandon straightened slightly.
"Lord Selmy, it's me. Ser Brandon."
A brief pause.
"I have guests. Important guests who wish to meet with you."
There was the faint sound of a chair scraping.
Then the voice replied,
"Enter."
Ser Brandon pushed the door open and stepped aside for them.
They entered the chamber.
The room was large but cluttered, clearly a working chamber rather than a place for ceremony. Maps covered part of the desk. Scrolls were stacked in small piles. A candle burned low beside a half-finished letter.
Behind the desk sat Lord Selmy.
He was old now.
His skin was wrinkled and weathered like old leather. What little hair remained on his head was grey and thinning, and his scalp showed through in places. His face was clean-shaven, though age had softened his once-strong jaw.
But his eyes were still sharp.
They lifted from the desk and immediately landed on Lyonel.
The old lord's eyes widened.
"Lyonel," he said.
Then he corrected himself with a faint smile.
"No… Ser Lyonel."
Lyonel smiled back.
He had known Lord Selmy since he was a boy. The old lord had often visited Blackhaven when Lyonel's father was still alive. The two men had been close friends once.
Lyonel bowed his head respectfully.
"Lord Selmy."
Hary and Hendry followed his example, offering their own respectful greetings.
Lord Selmy leaned back slightly in his chair.
"Ser Brandon," he said calmly.
"Leave us. Close the door and guard it."
Ser Brandon nodded immediately.
"Yes, my lord."
He stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind him.
The room fell quiet.
Lord Selmy folded his hands on the desk and looked between the three young knights.
"What do you need?"
Lyonel opened his mouth to speak.
But Hary beat him to it.
"Lord Selmy," Hary said sharply, stepping forward.
"My brother and I, along with our men, were ambushed in your lands. Bandits."
His jaw tightened.
"Most of our men were killed. We barely escaped and made it to Blackhaven."
Hary's voice hardened.
"We need men to hunt them down and kill them."
Lord Selmy listened without interruption.
When Hary finished, the old lord nodded slowly.
"You are in luck, then."
The three young men exchanged glances.
Lord Selmy leaned back in his chair.
"My son has already ridden out from Harvest Hall."
Hary frowned.
"With ten of my most trusted men."
The old lord's expression darkened slightly.
"I sent him to kill every one of those fucking scum plaguing my lands."
Lyonel stepped forward slightly.
"When did he leave?"
"Three days ago," Lord Selmy replied.
"He should be near Greenhill by now."
Lyonel nodded slowly.
Three days.
That meant the bandits might already be dead.
Or—
His thoughts were interrupted by a quiet whisper beside him.
"Fuck."
It was Hary.
Lord Selmy noticed.
The old lord chuckled softly.
"You three should stay here," he said calmly.
"My son will return soon enough with the heads of every bandit in these hills."
Lyonel was about to respond.
But Hary moved first.
"No."
The word came out sharp and firm.
All eyes turned to him.
"I will not sit here while another man kills them."
Hary's voice burned with anger.
"They killed my men."
His hands clenched.
"I need to kill those bastards myself."
Before anyone could respond, Hary turned and strode toward the door.
He threw it open and stormed out.
Hendry sighed heavily.
He looked apologetically toward Lord Selmy.
Then he followed his brother out.
Lyonel remained for a moment.
He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly before looking back at the old lord.
"Thank you for your hospitality, Lord Selmy."
Lord Selmy gave him a knowing smile.
"But it seems we'll be chasing after your son."
The old lord chuckled.
"You'd better ride fast then."
Lyonel smiled faintly.
"I will."
He bowed once more.
Then turned and left the chamber.
Outside, the hallway was empty.
But the sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the stairwell.
Lyonel quickly followed.
He found Hary and Hendry already crossing the courtyard toward the stables.
Hary was barking orders at a stable boy while Hendry rubbed his forehead as if nursing a headache.
"We're leaving already?" Lyonel asked.
Hary swung up onto his horse without answering.
"We ride now," he said shortly.
Hendry mounted beside him.
Lyonel sighed but climbed onto Thunder's saddle.
The courtyard gates were opened once again.
The three knights rode out of Harvest Hall, their horses thundering across the road.
Behind them the castle shrank into the distance.
Ahead of them lay Greenhill.