Kevin departed at dawn. He carried with him Aldric's silent blessings and a squad of Brotherhood outlaws now gleaming in the black brigandine of the Golden Dawn. As payment for the steel, Aldric kept the weapons and half the horses seized from the Karstark deserters.
Conrad and his twelve survivors were formally pardoned and broken up, their veteran presence distributed throughout the Golden Dawn's new squads. With that act, the Silver Hand—the mercenary company that had marched from Winterfell—was officially a memory. Aldric was satisfied; a unified faith was more dangerous than a divided brotherhood of sellswords.
Yet, a shadow of regret remained. Lrand and his men had declined the Awakening. Despite the Master's new policy allowing individual Sunwalkers to remain sworn to Lord Beric, the outlaws' hearts belonged to the Lightning Lord. Beric Dondarrion had a legitimacy Aldric—a stranger who had seized a monastery—could not yet match.
Aldric watched them ride away, admiring their grit. He wanted them, but he would not break his own principles to buy them.
The regret was soon pushed aside by a letter from his "good neighbor," Ser Charles Costa. The invitation was formal but vague, requesting the Lightbringer's presence at the Costa manor for a feast, hinting at "neighborly harmony."
Aldric arrived at the Costa estate with Jon Snow and nine veterans. Unlike the hollowed-out monastery, the Costa lands were flush with grain. Charles had retreated in time to save his harvest, and with fewer mouths to feed after the Mummer attack, his larders were heavy.
The feast was lavish, but Aldric waited until the butter was wiped from the bread before speaking. "Ser Charles, you didn't bring me here just to show off your cook. What is this about?"
Charles smiled, dabbing his mouth with linen. "The alliance of Harrenhal's vassals I mentioned. It's moving. There is a gathering—a wedding at House Ward."
"The Wards?" Aldric searched his memory.
"The most loyal of the Whent knights," Charles explained. "Ser Wery Ward followed Lady Catelyn to the Eyrie with the Imp and vanished. But his wife, Lady Sabina, has made a discovery. She claims to have found a granddaughter of Lady Whent—a girl named Martha, daughter of the late Tytos Whent. She intends for her son, Jon Ward, to marry this girl and claim Harrenhal."
Aldric scoffed. "Lady Whent has been alone in that castle for years. Suddenly a granddaughter appears out of the mud? After thirteen years of silence?"
"It's a Mummer's Farce," Charles agreed with a cold laugh. "Lady Sabina is reaching for the Great Seat. If we, the vassals, recognize the girl, the claim becomes a fact. Harrenhal is too big for the Wards to hold alone. They need us."
"And your stance?"
"That depends on the price Lady Sabina is offering. If she gives enough, I might play along. If not... I'll need you to give me a push toward the leadership."
Aldric saw the opportunity. This was a chance to see the "leaders" of the eastern shore. If they were all as corrupt or incompetent as the rumors suggested, he wouldn't need to negotiate. He could simply conquer.
Three days later, the Golden Dawn and the Costa party—twenty riders strong—arrived at the Ward estate. Located south of the monastery and closer to King's Landing, it was one of the first lands scorched by Lannister forages.
As they entered the courtyard, Aldric saw ten tents pitched under the banners of four houses: Costa, Ward, Blount, and Sharp.
"Only four?" Aldric asked. "You said there were eleven vassals."
"The rest are dead, besieged, or hiding," Charles muttered. "Like the Fishers. Their manor is a graveyard now. Herberth Fisher followed Edmure Tully to the war, and bandits took his home. I heard there are dozens of bodies hanging from the walls. Not a soul left alive."
Aldric thought of the mad woman Beric's men had delivered to the monastery weeks ago—Layla Fisher. He held the legitimate heir to those lands in his infirmary, but he kept the information behind his teeth. He didn't know how Charles would use a broken woman.
They were met by a short, anxious man in front of a charred great hall.
"Charles! You're alive!" the man cried, embracing Costa.
"And you, Tucker," Charles replied. He turned to Aldric. "Lightbringer, this is Ser Tucker Ward, brother to Ser Wery. He and his brother have ruled these lands for two generations."
He introduced Aldric as the "Protector of St. Maur's," making sure to mention the magical healing of his men.
Tucker offered a polite, distracted hand. Charles looked at the scorched timber of the hall and smirked. "Tucker, you're hosting a wedding for your nephew. Couldn't you at least paint the burned bits?"
Tucker's face fell. "There is no wedding, Charles."
Charles froze. "Pardon?"
"The wedding is canceled."
"I heard the words," Charles snapped. "I want the reason. Are you jesting?"
"Settle in," Tucker sighed. "We'll meet the others shortly. You'll understand then."
They were led to a small, drafty solar that had survived the fires. Inside sat five people, including a stern-faced woman of middle years.
A bald, heavy-set man with a salt-and-pepper beard looked up as they entered. "Charles. Who is this?"
"The Protector of St. Maur's," Charles said. "Commander Aldric, the Lightbringer."
The bald man stood. "St. Maur's? They are under House Vance. Are you a Vance man?"
Aldric didn't answer. He looked the man in the eye. "Before you ask for my name, shouldn't you offer your own?"
A young man in the corner, holding a cup of wine with practiced arrogance, spoke up. "That is Ser Dean, head of House Blount. Beside him is Ser Malin of House Sharp. I am Dane Bennett; my father was too old for the ride, so I am here for the wedding that isn't. A pleasure, Commander."
Aldric nodded. "Ser Dane."
Charles stepped in to smooth the tension. "Aldric was a commander under Robb Stark before coming to the lake. He helped my house repel the Mummers. If not for his Sunwalkers, my manor would be as black as this one."
Tucker Ward winced at the reminder. "Amory Lorch brought two hundred men to my door. We fled to the woods, or you'd be talking to a ghost. He burned the hall, but he couldn't take the land. But now... it seems the land doesn't belong to us anyway."
"What are you talking about?" Charles asked.
Tucker looked at the group, his voice trembling with a mix of fury and fear. "Don't you know, Charles? On the King's orders, since Lady Whent fled... Harrenhal has already changed masters. Twice."
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