New Barrel lies downstream of the Goldengrove River and serves as the seat of House Fossoway of the green-apple Fossoways branch, located in The Reach.
Its strategic proximity to both the Roseroad and the Goldengrove River has made it a hub for traveling rchants. Most goods bound for Goldengrove, Red Lake, and Old Oak are routed through New Barrel rather than Highgarden.
Initially, this preference stemd from the heavy taxes imposed by Highgarden. rchants avoided the additional levies by choosing New Barrel, maximizing their profits. In response, House Tyrell significantly reduced border taxes and abolished certain unreasonable tariffs to reclaim trade activity. However, by then, rchants had grown accustod to the convenience of New Barrel. Additionally, the lords of Red Lake, Coldmoat, and Old Oak had constructed rudintary roads that, despite their simplicity compared to the Roseroad, further cented New Barrel’s status as a trade center. As a result, Highgarden managed to attract only a small fraction of the trade, while the majority remained in New Barrel.
Recently, New Barrel City has seen an unusual influx of rchants. Caravans that had already unloaded their goods lingered, joined by traders from Highgarden, all seemingly waiting for sothing. Whispers of a recent event began to circulate. During a campaign to eradicate bandits in Red Lake Forest—a threat to Goldengrove, Red Lake, and Old Oak—a significant discovery was made. The bandits were rumored to be remnants of Targaryen loyalists, and this speculation was proven true. The three houses involved in the operation seized a large cache of supplies, including food, weapons, and valuables, so of which were linked to the Targaryen dynasty. Among these were items believed to have been hidden by the Mad King himself before his fall.
This revelation fueled speculation that the Mad King had foreseen the downfall of House Targaryen, entrusting supplies to loyal followers who later beca the bandits of Red Lake Forest. While the seized goods were plentiful, they were impractical for the three houses, who preferred liquid currency. The lingering presence of the Targaryen seal on these supplies also posed a risk, as Robert Baratheon might interpret their possession as treasonous. To avoid suspicion and capitalize on their haul, the three houses sought to sell the goods quickly. Only two places had the capacity to handle such a transaction: Highgarden and New Barrel.
House Tyrell, however, was preoccupied with nding relations with Robert Baratheon and had little interest in managing the sale. Conversely, Lord Tarkus Fossoway of New Barrel saw an opportunity. Proactively reaching out to the three houses, he offered attractive terms, including tax exemptions, to encourage them to sell the goods in New Barrel.
Though so questioned the benefit to Lord Tarkus in waiving taxes, others recognized his long-term vision. The true gain lay in the bustling trade that the sale would bring. The influx of rchants and caravans would significantly boost New Barrel’s economy, creating prosperity that far outweighed the forfeited taxes on the goods.
For the common folk of New Barrel City and the caravan escorts, the intrigues of the nobility held little importance. Their interest was captured instead by the tales of heroism from the campaign. Stories of Joel Flowers, who broke through enemy ranks to slay the bandit leader, and Arys Oakheart, who led thirteen cavalry to rout hundreds of bandits.
Among the many legends born from the recent battles, one na stood out above all: Lynd the Bear Hunter. Unlike the chivalric knights whose deeds were often beyond the reach of the common people, Lynd, a commoner himself, embodied a relatable hero. His story resonated deeply with those who gathered in taverns, listening to bards weave tales of his exploits. Through these ballads, listeners felt as though they stood beside him, sharing in his adventures and triumphs.
Even before the Battle of the Red Lake, tales of Lynd's bravery had circulated throughout The Reach. In those days, he was known simply as a hunter who avenged his father by single-handedly taking down a ferocious mountain bear. His courage and filial devotion were admired, but few saw him as a warrior of true renown.
That perception changed dramatically after his astonishing feats during the siege at Red Lake. Lynd had refused the support of ten soldiers and ventured alone to a critical position. There, he reportedly killed nearly a hundred bandits who had fled from the battlefield, including two followers of the Targaryens. The sheer scale of his accomplishnt seed too extraordinary to believe—a tale born of exaggeration or bardic imagination. Yet, his deeds were verified by two highly respected knights: Ser Roman Webber of Coldmoat Castle and Ser Joel Flowers. Both n, known for their unshakable integrity, confird the truth of Lynd's heroics.
The story of Lynd’s valor was quickly immortalized in ballads. Bards from Red Lake, Old Oak, and Goldengrove eagerly shared his tale, and the songs were t with great enthusiasm by the common folk. The success of these ballads inspired other bards to take up the story, spreading Lynd’s fa even further. His legend reached every corner of The Reach, including the bustling city of New Barrel.
As night descended on New Barrel, the city's dockside taverns filled with workers and rcenaries seeking respite and revelry. In one particularly lively establishnt, a resident bard sang The Song of the Bear Hunter for the third ti that evening. Though the bard's voice was unremarkable, the crowd remained enraptured by the tale of Lynd's dual swords cutting through waves of enemies.
“To our Hero Bear Hunter!” a voice rang out, breaking the montary silence.
The shout was quickly echoed by others, their glasses raised high.
“To our Hero Bear Hunter!”
“To our Hero Bear Hunter!”
...
Once the cheers for the bear hunter began in the taverns, they beca an unstoppable tide. It wasn’t clear if the raucous celebrations spilling into the streets inspired patrons in nearby establishnts, but soon, chants for the bear hunter echoed from other taverns, spreading to the Castle grounds and even the campfires of rchant caravans.
In ti, the bear hunter Lynd beca a symbol of the common man's Hero. The masses idolized him, projecting their unfulfilled dreams onto his legend. They saw his triumphs as their own, as if they had played a part in crafting the tales sung in his honor. This only deepened their admiration for the enigmatic figure who had never revealed his face.
“If this keeps up, I wouldn’t be surprised if soone starts shouting, ‘Long live the Bear Hunter!’” In a shadowed corner of the tavern, two cloaked figures sat unnoticed. One, a tall, middle-aged man, sipped his ad and turned to his companion, who was quietly eating. He grinned as he spoke, “I just hope our new king doesn’t have beheaded over it.”
His companion chuckled softly. “No, knowing our king, I’d say he might actually reward you. Who knows? You might even find yourself appointed to the Kingsguard.”
“That’s not happening. I’d rather ensure my family line doesn’t end with .” The Kingsguard, considered the pinnacle of knighthood, was dismissed by him with casual disdain.
“You’ve got ambition, I’ll give you that!” The older man took another sip, his tone a mix of mockery and genuine admiration.
The pair sitting unnoticed in the bustling New Barrel Tavern were none other than Joel Flowers and Lynd, the celebrated bear hunter. The tavern’s patrons—commoners and rcenaries alike—shouted Lynd’s na without the faintest clue that the man himself sat among them.
This anonymity left Lynd pondering what might happen if he revealed his identity. Would the crowd lift him onto their shoulders and parade him triumphantly through the streets? Or would they toss him out as a delusional impostor? He suspected the latter.
Joel and Lynd were here because Joel had promised to introduce Lynd to Ser Vortir Crane as a squire. After the grand banquet in Goldengrove, Joel had chosen not to linger for post-celebration discussions, nor had he accompanied the House Crane retinue back to Red Lake. Instead, he had taken Lynd downstream along the Goldengrove River.
Originally, Joel planned to sail south to Highgarden. However, when their boat docked at New Barrel Castle, he overheard dockworkers discussing a delegation from Highgarden en route to King’s Landing for a tournant held by the new king in honor of his firstborn son. The group, led by Ser Garlan Tyrell—the second son of the Lord of Highgarden—also included Ser Vortir Crane, now master-at-arms of Highgarden and Garlan Tyrell’s swordsmanship ntor. The delegation had stopped at New Barrel Castle for the night before continuing their journey.
Learning this, Joel decided there was no need to go as far as Highgarden. The two disembarked at New Barrel Castle, though it was already late at night. Visiting the Tyrells’ lodgings at such an hour seed improper, and the city’s inns were packed with rchants and travelers. Unable to secure rooms, Joel opted to spend the night at a tavern, planning to pay their respects to Ser Vortir in the morning.
“Aren’t you going to drink?” Joel asked, gesturing to Lynd’s untouched cup of ad after finishing his own.
Lynd shook his head. “I don’t drink.”
“What a boring guy!” Joel exclaid, grabbing Lynd’s glass and taking a sip. He watched as Lynd thodically chewed his food, his deliberate pace making the minutes drag. Ti seed to crawl in Lynd’s company.
Over the past few days of traveling together—especially the two days spent sailing south from Goldengrove Castle—Joel had co to understand Lynd better.
Discipline. Extre discipline. That was Joel’s latest assessnt of him. Lynd approached everything with ticulous precision. He had a detailed schedule for every part of his day, down to the minute: when to practice swordsmanship, how long to rest, when to eat. It was as if Lynd carried an invisible ledger, checking off tasks with chanical regularity. To Joel, it was dreadfully dull.
Lynd’s strict self-discipline reminded Joel of soone: Randyll Tarly, Lord of Horn Hill. Thankfully, Lynd wasn’t as humorless or rigid as Tarly. He could still banter and joke, which saved him from being entirely insufferable.
Even so, Joel was sowhat relieved he hadn’t taken Lynd as his squire. When he first reviewed Lynd’s battle record, he’d briefly entertained the idea. A capable squire like Lynd would undoubtedly be an asset in battle—soone who could assist, rather than requiring constant supervision like his current squires. But the notion had quickly faded. Training a commoner would take more ti and energy than Joel was willing to invest. Besides, he doubted Lynd’s potential to go far in the future.
Finishing his cup, Joel felt the effects of the ad take hold. Not a heavy drinker, he was already tipsy after two large cups. As the urge to relieve himself beca unbearable, he stood, swaying slightly, and made his way outside. Staggering into the cool night air, he scanned his surroundings, then found a secluded spot beside the tavern.
As Joel began to relieve himself, he didn’t notice the figure creeping up behind him. The next mont, a heavy wooden club struck his head with a sickening thud. He crumpled to the ground, unconscious. The assailant quickly rifled through his belongings, taking his money pouch, sword, and valuables—right down to the bear-skin cloak.
Inside the tavern, Lynd remained oblivious to Joel’s misfortune. Still seated at the table, he focused on the bread before him, his slow chewing a testant to the al’s poor quality. Though the bread was sweetened with grapes and coated in honey, it was unbearably hard, requiring considerable effort to chew and swallow.
Lynd resisted the urge to toss it aside. He knew that worse als awaited him in the future, and it was better to acclimate now than suffer later.
As he struggled with his food, the tavern door swung open. Two figures—one tall, one short—entered and scanned the room. Spotting Lynd sitting alone at a table, they strode over and, without so much as a greeting, took the remaining seats across from him.
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