After hearing the explanation, Lynd furrowed his brow in confusion. “Why did House Tyrell’s supporters lose so easily? Didn’t you say the stalemate had lasted for decades? Logically, their strength should be comparable, right?”
Old Baine let out a weary sigh. “It’s all because of the Usurper’s War,” he explained. “The Tyrells sided with the Targaryens, sending troops to fight. House Crane supported them too, contributing n loyal to Tyrell. Many of them perished in the Battle of Ashford. Only a handful, like Vortir Crane, survived. After the war, they stayed in Highgarden, afraid of retaliation from the rival faction within their house, and never returned to Red Lake.”
“What’s the deal with Will?” Lynd asked skeptically.
“He’s a fool!” Old Baine snapped, his voice filled with anger. “The internal conflict within House Crane had nothing to do with him. All he needed to do was perform his duty as captain of the guard. But he didn’t know where his loyalty lay. He went so far as to capture Lady Lyanna and Lady redyth and hand them over to the opposing faction. House Crane’s infighting was political, not violent. Will’s actions crossed a line, and it’s no wonder he was caught.”
Lynd’s concern deepened. “Were you implicated because of Will?”
Old Baine waved it off. “Don’t worry about . I’m insignificant to them. If they truly saw as a threat, soone far more formidable than that arrogant brat Clov would’ve co after .”
Lynd still appeared uneasy. “But now things are different. I killed six Red Lake City guards. They might…”
“No, this actually works in our favor,” Old Baine interrupted with a grin. “To House Crane, a skilled swordsman like you is far more valuable than six ordinary guards.”
“Why?” Lynd still didn’t understand.
Old Baine explained, “Not long ago, Red Lake joined forces with House Rowan and House Oakheart to clear the Red Lake Forest of bandits. But because House Crane suffered heavy losses during the Usurper’s War, they can barely muster 200 n. These aren’t seasoned soldiers—they’re farrs who’ve only just taken up arms. They need skilled fighters. That’s why I told you to go all out earlier. I didn’t expect you to be so strong, but that makes it even better. Soone has probably already reported your prowess to Joel Flowers.”
“Joel Flowers?” Lynd repeated, searching his mory. “I think I’ve heard that na in the tavern. Is he that cold Joel?”
“Yes, that’s him,” Old Baine confird with a nod. “Lord Joel Flowers is the bastard son of Ser Bedlam Crane. He’s one of the few Cranes who can command troops in battle. He supported House Florent and once competed in the King’s Landing Tournant. Though he lost to Ser Barristan, he earned Barristan’s admiration. Barristan even invited him to join the Kingsguard of the Mad King, but Joel refused. Within House Crane, his swordsmanship is on par with Vortir Crane. He respects those with great skill, which is why he’ll likely recruit you after seeing your talent.”
“Was one of Joel’s n among the onlookers just now?” Lynd asked.
“Yes,” Old Baine confird. “Your reputation as a bear hunter and master swordsman with two blades must’ve reached his ears, prompting him to send soone to verify it. Even if Clov hadn’t shown up, I would’ve arranged a sparring match to showcase your skills. But now, the outco is even better.”
“Isn’t Joel worried about offending the other faction in House Crane?” Lynd asked suspiciously.
“He’s known as the neutral party in the Crane family,” Old Baine explained. “His loyalty lies solely with the Lord of Red Lake, regardless of who holds the title. Both factions understand that he’ll never betray them, so they avoid antagonizing him. Besides, House Crane needs him to lead the 200 recruits to eliminate the bandits in the Red Lake Forest. They won’t risk alienating him over sothing trivial.”
With a heavy sigh, Old Baine continued, “I initially approached Will because of Joel. I suspected from the start that Joel would lead the anti-bandit force, but I had no personal connection with him. Will, however, had ties to Joel and could’ve recomnded . That’s why I reached out to him. But now, it seems all my efforts were in vain.”
“What should I do now?” Lynd asked.
Old Baine offered a reassuring suggestion. “Don’t do anything. Stay here for a few days. Lord Joel will likely send soone to find you.”
Lynd nodded in agreent, then asked, “Old man, has my sword been finished yet?”
“It’s ready,” Old Baine replied. “I was going to hand it over when you arrived, but everything happened so quickly, I forgot. Lucky for you, your bare-handed skill is as impressive as your swordsmanship.”
With that, Old Baine gestured for Lynd to follow him. They made their way to a small house in the backyard. Old Baine disappeared inside and returned shortly, carrying two long swords. Handing them to Lynd, he explained, “Here is the Bastard Sword you requested. I’ve widened the blade and thickened it, making it more like an elongated broadsword—just as a Bastard Sword should be.”
Lynd accepted the weapons and drew them from their sheaths, testing their balance with a few swings. The swords were slightly heavier than he had anticipated, but it wasn’t an issue. He checked their sharpness and durability, finding them superior to the weapons used by the Red Lake City Guard.
However, they still couldn’t compare to the weapons he rembered from the Peacekeeper Hero Class. Despite that, for the five golden dragons he’d paid, they were more than satisfactory—especially considering Old Baine had likely factored in a touch of goodwill.
Over the next two days, Lynd trained with the swords in the backyard of Old Baine’s tavern. While the Peacekeeper’s combat experience with dual weapons emphasized a combination of long and short swords, Lynd realized that in real-life battles, relying on a short sword was impractical and dangerous. He adjusted his technique, integrating the Peacekeeper’s thods into his personal combat style.
During this ti, he found plenty of willing sparring partners among the rcenaries from a caravan staying at the tavern. These rcenaries appreciated Lynd’s guidance during their bouts. He pointed out their mistakes, taught them cooperative tactics, and even shared noble swordsmanship techniques they wouldn’t ordinarily learn. His efforts earned their respect, and when the caravan departed, tales of Lynd’s prowess began to spread, enhancing his reputation throughout The Reach.
anwhile, Clov Crane’s anticipated revenge never materialized. On the third day, a twelve-man team from Red Lake arrived to retrieve the bodies and equipnt of the slain guards.
The encounter was peaceful. The team’s captain even sparred with Lynd, though the duel was one-sided. The captain, despite his formal swordsmanship training, managed only two moves before Lynd disard him. In a real battle, the captain’s arm would’ve been severed.
Impressed rather than offended, the captain expressed admiration for Lynd and hinted that Red Lake would not pursue retribution for the deaths of the guards. However, he also cryptically noted that Lynd might still have to “pay a price,” though he didn’t elaborate.
It wasn’t until the sixth day that the tranquility of White Holdfast was interrupted. A heavily ard force of about a hundred n arrived. They wore full leather armor, carried spears, swords, and bows, and looked like a disciplined army. The group was led by seven knights, each clad in tal plate armor bearing the crests of noble families loyal to House Crane.
At the head of the group was a knight who imdiately stood out. He was taller and broader than the others, and his imposing warhorse made him appear even more formidable. His plate armor had an ancient design, featuring the green hand emblem of House Gardener, signaling a noble lineage. In contrast to his traditional armor, his helt was designed in the shape of a golden crane—a symbol of the fearless and aggressive bird native to Red Lake Forest, perhaps reflecting the knight’s character.
The group halted in front of Old Baine’s tavern. By then, both Old Baine and Lynd had co outside, drawn by the commotion. A crowd of onlookers had also gathered, eager to see what would unfold.
After getting a clear view of the leading knight, Old Baine stepped forward and bowed deeply. “Lord Joel.”
Joel Flowers pulled back the reins of his warhorse, steadying the restless beast as he looked down at Old Baine. “Baine the Spearman,” he said, his tone carrying both familiarity and respect. “I still rember how you led your troops through enemy lines back then. A man like you belongs on the battlefield, not wasting away in this countryside tavern.”
Old Baine smiled wryly. “Not everyone has the great heart that you do, my lord. For , the thought of dying on the battlefield with no one to collect my corpse holds less appeal than a warm bed and a bottle of good wine.”
At this, the knights accompanying Joel cast disdainful looks at Old Baine, though Joel himself remained unmoved. His expression stayed neutral as he shifted his gaze toward Lynd, studying him intently. “You’re the bear hunter?” he asked.
“Yes, my lord,” Lynd replied with a slight nod.
From the mont Joel Flowers had arrived, Lynd had been silently assessing him. While his victories over the Red Lake guards and his many sparring matches had boosted his confidence, Lynd was well aware that most of his opponents so far had been inexperienced fighters—farrs or poorly trained soldiers with limited skill. Joel, however, was different. As a swordsman admired by Ser Barristan Selmy, the legendary Fearless Knight, Joel was undoubtedly among the elite. Few in The Reach, or perhaps even Westeros, could rival him in single combat.
This realization stirred a deep desire within Lynd to challenge Joel, to asure his strength against one of the world’s best. Yet, he knew this was not the ti or place for such a confrontation. He suppressed the impulse, though not completely. A faint flicker of fighting spirit escaped him, and Joel noticed it instantly.
“Do you want to challenge ?” Joel asked, his voice steady and direct.
“Yes, my lord,” Lynd admitted with a nod, his eyes betraying no hesitation.
Before Joel could respond, one of the knights behind him stepped forward, his face twisted with indignation. “How dare you! You lowly creature, challenging Lord Joel? Who do you think you are?”
Joel turned sharply toward the knightly attendant, his voice cutting like a blade. “Lowly? Lower than a bastard?”
The squire froze, the color draining from his face as he realized his misstep. “My lord, I didn’t an you!” he stamred.
Joel’s gaze remained fixed on the young man, stern but calm. “I know you didn’t an ,” he said, his voice softening just enough to quell the tension. “But rember this: since you serve as my squire, you must abandon ideas of nobility and lowliness. In this world, the sword in your hand is the only thing that determines your worth—not your bloodline or the titles it grants.”
“I understand, my lord,” the squire replied, bowing his head in submission.
Joel shook his head slightly, clearly unconvinced that the lesson had sunk in, but he chose not to press the matter. Turning his attention back to Lynd, he said, “I’ve already taken care of the issue in Red Lake for you. No one will co seeking revenge. But now, you must join my army. Fight under my banner. Earn rit on the battlefield, and once you’ve proven yourself, I will recomnd you as a squire to Lord Vortir.”
“As you command, my lord,” Lynd replied, his voice resolute. There was no hesitation in his response.
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