Trials and Tribulations of the Oathkeeper

Chapter 38: Cold Winds Are Rising In The North

―The Riverlands―

Deep within the woods, two individuals had taken a moment's rest after having been on the move for so long. Bodrin, one of King Daveth's contacts at the capital, looked over his shoulder; in all his years he hadn't imagined that at some point in his life he'd be watching over the last of King Robert's bastards. Gendry, a tall and muscular young lad with blue eyes and thick black hair, was a blacksmiths apprentice before the massacre at King's Landing broke out. He kept his bull's head helmet strapped around his waist as the unacknowledged bastard pulled out his hammer to chisel one of the nearby stones.

"You ever get tired of doing that?" Bodrin asked.

Gendry shook his head. "Been hammering an anvil for 10 years," he answered. "Thought things were right as rain, before the goldcloaks started killin' babes in their homes."

Bodrin shuddered as he was reminded of that day in King's Landing when the riots broke out. He heard screams, shouting and cries flood the streets as teenagers, children and infants were butchered by rogue City Watchmen and Commander Janos Slynt like animals. Bodrin barely managed to escape the carnage, but was able to find his way to Tobho Mott's shop and take Gendry out of King's Landing when he realized what was going on. "I know how much you hated leaving," he spoke with condolence. "But the city just wasn't safe for you anymore."

"But why? Why me? Why did the gold cloaks want me dead so badly?"

"We both know that it was only a small group of them City Watch who wanted you dead. Last I heard, those who were involved were banished to the Wall. Well, all except for Janos Slynt; heard that the bald, arrogant cunt got his head chopped off by the Oathkeeper himself."

"And why would the King care about a bunch of bastards?"

Bodrin had to think of a lie. "Bastard or no, I don't believe anyone should deserve such cruelty. I think, at least I hope, that was why the King did what he did."

"You sound as if you know him."

"In a manner of speaking."

Gendry started getting a little suspicious. "And where exactly did you grow up? Some highborn prick's estate?"

Bodrin felt himself getting tense. "Flea Bottom, actually," he answered, "though both my parents were originally from the Reach. Pops was a farmer; ma was a tavern wench. They died when I was very young."

"Sorry," he apologized. "I didn't mean—"

"No, no. It's alright, my boy. I get where you're coming from. Highborn and their gold always get in the way of what's most important in life."

"Tch, tell me about that," Gendry dryly replied as he set his hammer down. "You never did say where we're going, though."

"The Red Fork."

"And that's where?" he asked.

Bodrin took a moment to explain. "It's one of the largest rivers engulfing the Trident. We find it, and we move west from there to Riverrun. I've got a friend there who's in service to Lord Edmure Tully. We convince Lord Tully to take you in, you'll be safer there."

"How would—"

Before Gendry could ask questions, Bodrin immediately grabbed the boy and forced him to the ground. Around the corner, they could hear someone singing in a masculine tone. Whoever was singing, their voice was getting louder. That told Bodrin and Gendry that they were getting close.

A lion still has claws...

"Could a minstrel," Gendry whispered.

Bodrin shook his head. "I don't think so. This one sounds drunk."