At a crossroads two miles from the monastery, three massive timber barricades—spiked logs lashed together in a defensive line—blocked the road. In the ditch beside the road, a few benches were pulled into the shade. Several warriors in black brigandine sat there, sharing quiet, rough laughs.
As Kevin Turner led his large column toward the checkpoint, a tall warrior rose. He wore a longsword at his hip and a fine coat of mail visible beneath his black surcoat. He raised a hand in greeting. "Ho! Kevin!"
Kevin waved back, spurring his horse forward. "Greetings, Duncan. Is it your turn for the watch today?"
Duncan Beck nodded. "Aye. Are these friends of the Brotherhood behind you?"
Kevin reined in at the logs, gesturing to the leader of the riders. "This is Lrand, a captain of the Brotherhood Without Banners."
Duncan and Lrand exchanged brief salutes. Kevin then looked back at the re-armed men of the Silver Hand, his expression darkening. "As for them... whether they are friends or something else depends on the Master's mood."
Though Kevin didn't elaborate, Duncan caught the warning in his tone. Conrad and his twelve veterans did not look like men to be trusted. Duncan caught the eye of his sentries, signaling them to stay sharp, before pulling back the logs to let them pass.
Under the management of the Golden Dawn, the monastery lands and the surrounding villages had returned to the plow. In the fields, peasants were busy at work. Despite the sweat and the sun, many wore calm, settled smiles—a sight rare even before the war, and unheard of in the scorched Riverlands of today.
"Are these all refugees under your Master's protection?" Lrand asked, impressed.
Kevin nodded. "The Mummers slaughtered most of the original tenants. These people are survivors the Master gathered from the ruins. There are more of them now than when I left. And look—those wheat fields I remember are already being turned for new crops."
"Potatoes," Lrand noted. He was a farmer's son; he knew the shoots the moment he saw them. "They don't taste as fine as wheat, but they grow fast and yield heavy. They'll keep more bellies full. Tell me, will I see the Lightbringer today?"
"I don't know," Kevin said. "If he's away, my classmate Jon Snow will be in charge. We can leave Conrad and his lot with him."
Lrand watched the busy fields. "Whoever is in charge, I just want to see this 'Lightbringer' with my own eyes. I want to know what kind of man builds a garden in a graveyard."
John met them at the monastery's outer perimeter, having been warned by the scouts. He embraced Kevin briefly before asking, "Why have you returned, Kevin?"
Kevin jerked a thumb at Conrad. "I found them while hunting with the Brotherhood. I didn't know what else to do with them, so I brought them to the Master."
John's brow furrowed as he studied Conrad. "Conrad? Aldric said he stayed with the Starks in the West. How did you stumble upon him?"
Conrad offered a sheepish, awkward smile but didn't speak. Looking at the thriving monastery and the organized villages, he realized Aldric had built a true foundation. Even if a commoner couldn't hold this land forever, whoever the King eventually granted it to would have to pay a steep price to maintain the peace Aldric had created. Conrad knew he had missed the chance to be part of that glory, and the shame made it hard to meet John's eyes.
John had no interest in small talk. Aside from Kevin, no one was closer to Aldric than John; they had been together since the beginning. He knew better than anyone the cost Aldric had paid to build the Silver Hand. For those who had abandoned the Master for Karstark gold, he felt only a cold indifference.
Kevin shrugged. "It's a long story. We'll settle in first, then I'll give the Master the full report."
"You won't be settling here," John said. "Aldric, Jon, and the entire vanguard have moved to the Smith's Hamlet. It's a military barracks now."
"A separate camp? Wise," Kevin nodded. "But I've brought three monks from Dancing Village who seek the Sun. They can't stay in a barracks."
Kevin introduced Brother Rune and his companions. John's expression softened instantly. He embraced the newcomers. "Welcome, brothers. Welcome home."
Rune, nearly sixty, was taken aback by the warmth. He knew John was the second-in-command of the Golden Dawn and a man who walked with the Light. "Brother John... we heard Kevin speak of the true meaning of the Seven. We've come seeking guidance. I hope we are not an intrusion."
"Never," John smiled. "St. Maur's welcomes all who seek the Truth. Come with me."
John led the monks into the monastery while a young acolyte guided Kevin and the rest toward the new barracks.
Kevin found Aldric in the center of the Smith's Hamlet, teaching a class. Kevin wasn't surprised to see his Master lecturing, but he was stunned by the sight: a wide wooden board, painted jet black, stood behind him. Aldric was using a small white stick to draw diagrams and runes on the board. A dozen unfamiliar faces sat cross-legged on the dirt, hanging on his every word as he explained the intricacies of a ten-man squad formation.
Kevin wanted to listen, but a column of thirty riders was hard to hide. When Aldric called his name, Kevin stepped forward and saluted.
"Master. These are warriors of the Brotherhood Without Banners, led by Captain Lrand. And... Conrad has returned. Along with a few others."
Aldric tilted his head, placing the white stick back on a small ledge. "Very well. Brothers, that is all for today. Tomorrow, there will be a test. Anyone who fails the questions will see their entire squad doing two extra hours of drill."
He dismissed the recruits and turned to Lrand with a warm, genuine interest. Hearing that they had been on the road for days, he summoned Jon Snow to find them a warm house and hot food.
Once the guests were led away, Aldric turned his gaze to Conrad. His voice was deep, resonant. "Conrad. I didn't expect to see you here."
Conrad dropped his axe and shield, falling to one knee. His face was flushed with shame. "Captain... I'm a man of few words. I don't know how to fix what I did. I only know I was wrong. I ask for your leadership once more."
The other twelve—Cain, Gili, Tormund—all followed suit, kneeling in a desperate circle.
"Captain, forgive us!"
"We've been with you since Winterfell, let us stay!"
Aldric reached out to help them up, but no one moved. They were trying to force his hand with a public display of contrition.
"Then stay on your knees," Aldric said flatly, his patience snapping. He turned his back on them and led Kevin into a small cottage.
The veterans looked at each other in the mud. "Now what?" Cain whispered.
"I don't know," Conrad said, sitting back on his heels. "Wait for them to finish talking. We haven't bled the Riverlands; they won't kill us. We just wait."
Inside the cottage, Aldric shut the door. "Tell me everything, Kevin."
Kevin didn't leave out a single detail. When he finished, Aldric's eyes were wide. "Lord Rickard Karstark... executed? By Robb?"
"Conrad and the others swear to it," Kevin said. "I asked them separately. The camp at Riverrun is a hornet's nest."
Aldric sighed, remembering the military councils in the West, sitting beside Rickard Karstark under the Young Wolf's banner. One of his few allies among the high-born was gone. "And Torrhen? You executed him yourself?"
"What choice was there?" Kevin countered. "Did you want me to sell him for a ransom?"
Aldric hesitated. "I don't know. I just... I saw that boy grow up. To see a familiar face turn so far into the dark... it's a heavy thing."
"Let it go, Master," Kevin said. "You aren't his father. His choices were his own. Don't let your heart go soft now."
"Fine," Aldric conceded. "Tell me—what do you think of the Brotherhood?"
Kevin's eyes lit up. "They're incredible. There's no talk of 'Lord' or 'Master' there. Even Beric Dondarrion eats from the same pot. They remind me of us, but their individual skill is much higher than our recruits."
"That stands to reason," Aldric said. "They are the desperate and the capable, fighting a guerrilla war against Tywin's forages. But remember, Kevin—discipline wins wars, not individual heroics. Don't lose sight of the drill."
"I won't," Kevin promised. "But what of Lrand? Should we bring him into the Dawn?"
"No," Aldric said immediately. "Lrand belongs to the Brotherhood. I won't steal Beric's captains. It would breed resentment we don't need."
"What if they join as individuals?" Kevin argued. "If a man accepts the Word and becomes a Sunwalker, he belongs to the Light. If Beric ever tires of the fight and goes home, those Sunwalkers would stay with us. Isn't that better?"
Aldric went quiet, pacing the small room. Finally, he nodded. "You're right. I was being narrow-minded. When you return to the Brotherhood, find those who truly seek the Sun. If only a third of them join us in the end, it is worth the effort."
Kevin grinned. It was rare to win an argument with his Master. "And the monks I brought? They want to learn."
"Village monks are the backbone of our movement," Aldric said. "We take as many as will come. We have the grain for them now."
"Grain? I thought we were starving."
Aldric offered a triumphant smirk. "I brokered a deal with Ser Charles Costa. I mortgaged my 'Valyrian' dagger—the Shadow-Stripe—to him for a mountain of grain. If I don't pay him back double in six months, I lose my 'precious' heirloom."
"Master..." Kevin chuckled. "Your next dagger... please, don't use pattern-welded steel. It's too easy to fake."
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