Carliene Stark

II Chapter 51

Jamie

The sun was setting round and red, painting the underbellies of the heavy clouds above in Lannister colours. Some would see that as a good omen. Other, more suspicious men than me, like Roland Crakehall or Garth Greenfield. To me it just mean that night was coming. That was both a blessing and a curse. Under the cover of darkness it was easier to hide, but it would also hide our enemies well. Someone might see our campfires or illuminated tents. And spies or scouts would be more difficult to spot, especially with the clouds hiding the moon. 

I studied the surrounding hill slopes that rose to either side, hiding the Lannister host in a large valley. I knew what it felt like to be ambushed and overrun. An experience I did not wish to be repeated.

"My Lord" my squire tore me from my thoughts. "Will you be taking your supper with your officers?" the round boy pondered as he picked at a bunch of grass he held in his hands. There was something about him that was ill suited for a war encampment. He seemed more like a chubby little lord, more child than man. 

"Yes, though I may be late" I informed him. He nodded while plucking a wilted blade of grass from in-between the green ones. "Who is that for?"

"Honor and Glory, my Lord" he told me and I had to laugh. He seemed to prefer the company of horses over those of the other squires. 

"Brush them once you're at it, and have Peck assist you" he had already begun to turn away, his bow-legged-walk making my amusement linger a moment longer. "Thank you Lewys" I called after him. 

The boy seemed to take the calm with him, because soon I found my thoughts racing again and a nervous sweat moist my palm. The sky above was growing darker and I knew I wouldn't have much daylight left. I stepped away from my tent, pulling my red cloak tighter, I could already feel the cold of the night creep up from the muddy meadow. With big steps I walked through the camps, careful not to lose my boot by sinking too deeply into the soft earth.

Bronn sat inn front of the tent he shared with two other landed knights, polishing his blade. "Lord Commander" he greeted with a knowing smirk and sat up as I approached. 

I glanced around uneasily, making sure no one was eavesdropping. "Do you have a place?" I asked him as he put aside his oilcloth. 

"Don't I always" he gave a small groan as he rose and sheathed his sword. "This way Ser Goldenhand" he offered as he pushed past me. I glared at his back in distaste as I followed him through the tents and out of the camp. Ser Goldenhand, that as what the Crow's Eye had dubbed me and I hated it with a passion, which only made the nickname stick more.

I caught up to him as we walked up the hill, the red son to our left. "You did not bring the tourney swords" I pointed out, already celebrating the fact that he would have to turn around and get them. 

"Oh we are not fighting with tourney swords today" he told me unbothered. I gave him a bewildered look but held my tongue as we passed two mounted knights on patrol. I gave them each a nod, taking note of their sigils. Four sunbursts counterchanged black on orange, House Kenning. 

Once they were out of earshot I turned to Bronn again. "We are not practicing with tourney swords?" I demanded in a low yet urgent tone. 

He gave me an annoyed look. "Do you mean to fight with tourney swords tomorrow?" he challenged. I clenched my teeth and he gave me a triumphant look. He lead me to a small grove of oak trees. Ten or twenty ancient looking trees, with trunks as wide as argon wheels and surrounded by their smaller offspring. These young trees still held onto their discoloured leaves, creating an ideal place to hide from prying eyes.