The wagon hired in Rabbitpaw Village was a simple flatbed cart. To secure the enormous spider firmly to the vehicle, Ethan went to considerable trouble—carefully folding in the creature's seven legs (each as thick as a tree trunk) and lashing them tightly with strong ropes.
Even though the spider was long dead, it still seemed to loom over the wagon, radiating an oppressive, chilling majesty. It was as though some remnant of its soul lingered within the broken shell—swaying gently with every jolt of the cart, as if it might awaken at any moment and create an indescribable sense of dread.
On the journey back to Winterhold the spider's massive corpse became a grotesque spectacle. It frightened many timid travelers and drew countless curious stares. Some people even followed the wagon involuntarily for long stretches just to catch another glimpse of the rare monster.
Being the center of attention can be pleasant—but too much attention quickly becomes annoying, especially when the onlookers have no sense of boundaries.
Along the way the mercenary squad had to repeatedly chase off groups of children trying to sneak onto the cart for a closer look at the giant spider, as well as one old man who attempted to set the corpse ablaze with a torch, determined to "burn the demon to death."
When the group was still about two miles from Winterfell the experienced Eddie rode up beside Ethan and spoke quietly:
"Captain—we've already had so many people trailing us on the road. Once we enter Winterfell the crowd will only grow larger. We need to prepare."
Ethan considered for a moment then turned to Haiward.
"Haiward—what do you think?"
Haiward shrugged.
"Not much. I'm heading straight back to the castle anyway."
Clearly he still didn't see himself as part of the team—but he did offer a practical suggestion:
"If you don't want to cause a huge scene cover the corpse with straw mats. It wouldn't look good if someone got hurt or killed trying to get a better view of your spider—and word reached the duke."
Cover it with straw mats?
Then what was the point of dragging it all this way?
Still Haiward's advice made sense. The streets inside Winterfell were narrow; if they became trapped in a mob it would be nearly impossible to move smoothly.
After some thought Ethan had his companions dress neatly mount their horses and ride in a tight protective formation—hoping the sight of armed men would intimidate at least some of the curious but timid onlookers.
Their planned route detoured from the Hunter's Gate on Winterfell's western side around to the eastern approach—entering the city via the wide Kingsroad to minimize congestion.
The moment they passed through the gate the entire city of Winterfell seemed to ignite with an invisible spark.
Townspeople poured out of shops houses and side streets converging on the main thoroughfare like a human tide all straining to see the cart bearing the giant spider.
If Ethan and his five companions had not prepared thoroughly beforehand and guarded the wagon closely the corpse would likely have been torn apart by eager hands long before they reached the market district.
Finally after more than an hour of slow progress through the surging crowd they managed to squeeze into the blacksmith's courtyard.
The instant they entered Ethan leapt down and slammed the gate shut cutting off the irrelevant curious stares and the overwhelming noise.
Hearing the commotion outside Brother John hurried out of his small chapel to investigate. When he saw the monstrous spider perched on the cart in his own yard his heart nearly stopped.
"Seven Gods—where did you get that thing?! Did you go to collect a gambling debt or clean out a giant's bedroom?"
Ethan pulled off his helmet wiped sweat from his brow and answered dryly:
"Cleaning the giant's bedroom. You have no idea how filthy it was—a booger on the floor would be bigger than you."
While chatting with Brother John Ethan directed his companions to unload the giant spider.
After a full day under the scorching sun the creature's gray carapace had darkened to a deep brown thick and heavy like a warrior's plate gleaming with an eerie cold luster.
Though its head was lifeless its six enormous compound eyes remained wide open as though still watching everyone who approached.
Because the courtyard was quite cramped the cart plus the debt collectors' several large animals already filled nearly every available inch.
It was impractical to keep such a large group crammed inside so Ethan paid the agreed transport fee (ten silver stags) to the driver from Rabbitpaw arranged to meet Conrad Eddie and Juan for dinner the following evening and sent them on their way.
After all the commotion the noisy courtyard finally quieted. Ethan at last had time to return to his hut strip off his armor and rest.
That evening Lennar returned from the tavern earlier than usual. The moment he stepped through the gate he rushed straight to the giant spider running his hands over its carapace again and again.
"This is it? No wonder everyone at the tavern was talking about a giant spider today—I thought they'd lost their minds! There's no such thing as a spider the size of a cart! I can't believe it actually exists—and it's right here in our yard!"
After touching it a few times Lennar noticed his fingertips were sticky. He rubbed them together brought them to his nose and immediately gagged. Once the nausea passed he looked up tears in his eyes and complained:
"Ugh! How can it smell *this* bad?!"
"It's not as bad as it was," Ethan replied handing him a damp cloth. "Wipe your hands. It smelled far worse before—but someone cleaned it up. They used quicklime here; as long as you don't stick your face right in it the odor is bearable."
Lennar scrubbed his fingers vigorously then pressed:
"Tell me everything! Where did you find this corpse?"
"What corpse? I killed it myself—with Kevin and three others. Look here."
Ethan pointed to the giant spider's severed left foreleg joint.
"Here—and here—Kevin cut it off."
He then indicated the less obvious puncture marks across the creature's back and carapace.
"I used Sea Serpent Strike to pierce its abdomen here—prying the entire thorax and abdomen open. These smaller holes were made by the others with spears."
Lennar's eyes widened in disbelief.
"You actually killed it? That's… unbelievable. I don't even know what to say.
Tell me the whole story—quickly—and give me the names of everyone involved in the kill. I'll work this into tomorrow's performance!"
Ethan—who was unfamiliar with the profession of bard—worried that rushing the tale would result in a less compelling or less elegantly worded story hindering its spread.
"So hasty? Why not organize it properly and refine the wording first?"
"To ride the wave of popularity!" Lennar explained with a pained expression. "You're planning to turn it into a proper ballad and recite it later? By then everyone will have forgotten the details! And if we're too slow other bards will use this giant spider as material and create their own versions—then this feat will have nothing to do with you."
Ethan frowned.
Indeed—if he didn't spread the true account quickly and competing versions circulated in the taverns he would be seen as a fraud trying to claim credit for someone else's tale.
So Ethan invited everyone from the courtyard into the main house. Over drinks he recounted the events of the past few days.
After listening to the full story of the Wolfswood spider hunt Lennar sat in stunned silence for a long moment before sighing deeply:
"Ethan—I've truly fallen.
I used to chase every story wherever it led—wanting to experience every detail firsthand so I could tell it properly.
But ever since I started reciting *Red Star Over China* I've grown accustomed to adapting *your* stories… and I've lost my own edge.
Take me with you on your next mission. I don't want to miss another event that will shake the whole city."
Ethan shook his head.
"Not every job will become city-wide news… but having you along won't hurt."
Brother John clearly couldn't relate to Lennar's artistic crisis. He was far more concerned with practical matters.
"Ethan—are you just going to leave this giant spider sitting here? The yard is already too small—and with this thing taking up space I can't get any work done."
Before Ethan could answer Lennar exclaimed:
"My lord monk—you think it takes up too much room? Let me tell you—if I were you I'd want this spider on the roof of the sept—the more conspicuous the better.
It would be perfect if the first thing Lord Eddard saw when he opened his curtains tomorrow morning was this monster.
Don't you always complain that hardly anyone comes to pray at your sept?
Let me tell you—starting tomorrow so many people will come to see this giant spider's corpse that they'll burst the doors.
You'd better get materials ready to repair them."
In the flickering light of the pine-oil lamp Ethan and Brother John stared at each other in bewilderment.
After a long pause Ethan spoke first:
"Tomorrow I'm heading to the Wolf's Kiss Tavern—so I'll have to rely on you here."
Brother John looked anxious.
"You can't just dump this on me! Didn't *you* bring it back?"
Ethan covered his face with both hands.
"Oh dear… I get nervous when too many people stare.
Aren't you a monk? Shouldn't monks preach to crowds regularly?
I'm leaving this to you!"
Seeing Brother John's stubborn expression Ethan offered a bargaining chip:
"How about this—if anyone asks how I managed to kill this monster just say it was all thanks to the protection of the Seven.
I absolutely won't contradict you—deal?"
Hearing that Brother John finally relented.
If it meant proclaiming the glory of the Seven he wasn't entirely unwilling to endure the hardship.
Kevin however glanced up at Ethan then quickly lowered his head again remaining silent throughout the conversation.
Later back in their room as they prepared to rest Kevin couldn't hold back any longer.
"Teacher—slaying the giant spider was clearly the Sun God's favor—so why are you attributing the glory to the Seven?"
"Hm?" Ethan was surprised. "There's something wrong with how you phrased that. Aren't you a devout follower of the Seven? I remember back in White Harbor you visited every sept to pray."
Kevin argued earnestly:
"That's different!
I've never seen a follower of the Seven perform a miracle—but I *saw* you use the power of the Sun God to revive me!
The Seven are fake. The Sun God is real!"
Ethan sat up pulling a thick blanket over his shoulders. The scars from the thugs' attack in White Harbor twisted across his skin reflecting dark red in the moonlight.
He spoke seriously to his student:
"Kevin—strictly speaking you didn't actually *see* me cast the Light spell—because you were unconscious from blood loss.
Of course the power of the Sun God is real—my existence and your life are proof.
But the Sun—or rather the Light—is not as narrow as you imagine.
The Sun God is real—but that doesn't mean the Seven are fake.
Have you ever considered the possibility that the Seven are also manifestations of the Sun?
Many doctrines in the Faith of the Seven align closely with the teachings of the Sun God."
Kevin muttered to himself:
"The Seven are also manifestations of the Sun God…"
Seeing the dawning understanding on Kevin's face Ethan inwardly groaned: *Oh no—I let my imagination run wild. I hope I haven't led the boy astray.*
"Kevin—I'll explain it to you in detail later.
About the faith in the Light—about the teachings of the Sun God.
Then you'll understand that believing in the Seven and believing in the Sun God may not be mutually exclusive."
Kevin's eyes shone in the darkness.
"Teacher—when will you teach me?"
Ethan thought: *(While I'm still making up a plausible story…)*
"When the light of the Sun God shines across this land—when I can perform miracles without needing creatures like giant spiders to supply the magic."
Kevin was finally satisfied with the promise and soon fell into a deep sleep.
Looking at his student's curled-up back Ethan felt a twinge of worry.
Was Kevin becoming too radical about the Sun God's protection?
If this were medieval Europe wouldn't he turn into a Crusader fanatic?
He would need to put more effort into guiding Kevin's ideological development—he couldn't afford to raise a Scarlet Crusader.
The next morning Ethan quietly led Kevin out to the market district.
There were two blacksmith shops in the district displaying mostly farm tools and implements with only a small selection of weapons.
Even from a distance Ethan could tell the craftsmanship far surpassed that of Hanwei the little blacksmith back in Falling Rock Village.
However because of the large number of shops noise smoke and fire hazards associated with ironworking the forges had been pushed to the edge of town—making it impossible to speak directly with the smiths about custom orders.
Ethan didn't mind. He hadn't planned to commission any blacksmith anyway.
His purpose today was to buy basic tools—hammers tongs anvils—and iron ingots as raw material. He intended to bring everything back to the courtyard and personally forge Kevin a more protective suit of armor.
Before encountering the giant spider in Rabbitpaw Ethan had been confident that his own formidable strength and the training he had given Kevin would be sufficient protection—even with only a single set of chainmail.
But events had proven him far too overconfident.
On the battlefield anything could happen. Life and death turned on a moment.
If Kevin ever faced another life-threatening situation he might not be lucky enough to have a magically imbued monster tumor conveniently at hand.
Therefore Ethan decided to use his own "Lightbringer" suit as a template and craft a complete set of armor for his student.
He had briefly considered having a local smith produce a more Westerosi-style suit for Kevin.
But entrusting the work entirely to a blacksmith would be expensive if he wanted high quality—and given Ethan's current lack of status there was no guarantee the smith would put in genuine effort or deliver value worth the investment.
Doing it himself would save a great deal of money.
The process might take longer but each finished piece could be used immediately—at least protecting the torso first—instead of waiting until the entire suit was completed inspected and delivered.
After visiting both blacksmith shops in the market district Ethan gathered the necessary tools (clamps hammers tongs anvil) and raw materials (iron ingots).
He sent Kevin back to the courtyard with the goods then headed alone to the Wolf's Kiss tavern to prepare for the next step.
"A glass of barley wine."
Entering the tavern Ethan sat at the bar. Before he could even state his purpose Howard asked:
"I heard you lot brought back something huge from Rabbitpaw?"
"Yeah—it's not small." Ethan glanced around pointed to a nearby table and said: "A spider about the size of two of those tables put together."
"That's a nightmare," Howard shuddered imagining the sight. "But you didn't sign your contract with Greyjoy here—so what brings you back?"
"What do you think of that giant spider? I'm displaying it in the yard right now. Maybe it'll help my reputation?"
"Of course. Your name will spread along with the spider. Soon the whole North will know there's a wandering swordsman named Ethan Cole who specializes in killing spiders."
Ethan ignored the teasing.
"But I'm short-handed. Right now I only have one apprentice. Conrad and Eddie are solid—we can work together long-term—but we're still understrength.
I was wondering whether you know any reliable freelancers willing to band together?
I'm thinking of forming a proper mercenary company.
If you do they can come to my courtyard. I probably won't be going out much these next few days."
Howard thought for a moment then nodded.
"That's a smart move. Lone operators never land the big contracts.
Mercenaries are practical. To become their leader you have to prove you're worth following.
But with a monster like that sitting in your yard no one will question your strength anymore.
I'll keep an ear out.
What do you plan to name your company?"
Ethan answered without hesitation giving the name he had considered for a long time:
"Let's call it the Light Warriors."
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