The North

The Kingsroad

Garrick chose to go North. He had weighed his options, and though it seemed like the other Kingdoms had stronger armies and more of a chance, something about the execution of Eddard Stark did not sit right with the young sellsword. He wanted honour, he wanted his adventures to begin serving a lord who deserved it, and he decided that lord would be Robb Stark. The new Lord of Winterfell had done little more than call his banners when the mercenary set off on his newly purchased horse.

It was a long journey ahead of him, and so he had packed accordingly, bringing plenty of food but hoping to find a way to make some coin on the way, whether it was shoveling dung in the stables of an inn so he may sleep there, or cutting firewood for a village in exchange for a hot meal. As he rode from the gates of King's Landing, he turned back to glance at what once his home, and a place he may never see again. It was in that moment he realised that the next time he saw the capital, it may well be as a part of the army laying siege to it. That gave him pause, but after a few moments he kicked his heels into his horse's flank and rode onwards. Northwards.

He had been riding all day and the sun had just begun to set over the horizon, the sky a deep crimson red. Garrick was in the middle of the open road, with no taverns or villages nearby, and so he dismounted and led his horse a short distance from the Kingsroad. He tied the beast to a tree and patted its shoulder, before muttering "I really ought to name you." with a slight smile. He took a seat with his back to the same tree and closed his eyes, thinking of names for his mount. Before long, he was asleep.

As he slept, the sellsword dreamed of becoming a legendary knight like Duncan the Tall or Ser Arthur Dayne. It was a young man's dream, but one he clung to all the same. He woke in the early hours of the morning, as the sun was still rising, and he watched it with a soft smile. He looked back at the way he came, King's Landing was well beyond the horizon, but he knew it was there all the same. Garrick mounted his horse and set off once more. The Kingsroad was practically empty, and he only met a few travellers along his way. Most were residents of local villages travelling to nearby markets, but there were occasional merchants travelling in larger groups. One man even offered him coin to help protect his wagon, but Garrick refused, since the merchant was heading south.

It was the evening of his third day of travel when he arrived in the town of Brindlewood. It was one of the more built up areas he had visited along the Kingsroad, though all the real castles lay a few miles off the road. There was a tavern in the town, with a stables right outside, and so Garrick tied his horse up and entered the alehouse. It was nothing like the taverns of King's Landing. Where the Dancing Wolf was always full of patrons and smelt of spilled beer and piss, the Brindlewood Tavern had only a few tables full, even with it being the evening. He could only smell smoke from the fireplace and the freshly cooked stew in the nearby kitchen, and when he did, his stomach growled. He approached the barkeep and smiled.

"How much for a mug of beer, a bowl of stew and a room for the night?" He asked.

The barkeep nodded in greeting. "A star for the room and a half groat each for the mug and bowl."

He reached into his pocket and removed the coins, sliding them across the bar. "Thank you, ser."

"You be wantin' a whore?" The barkeep asked as Garrick turned to leave.

He considered for a moment. "How much?"

"Elyse is a stag for the night, and Brinna is three stars." The man answered.

Garrick glanced in his coin purse and saw he had more than enough for either woman. Or both.