14 Ch. 14 Resolve

I made my way out of the encampment and a short distance into the treeline. The soldiers attempting to subtly follow me were easily ignored. My protection was their mission. While I needed to be alone, they gave me a respectable distance.

Standing in the middle of a grassy area, I tried to process what I just did, of the lives I just ended. I fully understand those bandits would die the moment the Lannister men arrived at that inn. But that's not how it will be remembered. I couldn't shake the thought of my words being the cause of their death.

With practiced ease, I drew my sword from its sheath. As I stared down at the blade of the bastard sword, I thought about what the future would hold. Today, I used my words to take the lives of men, but one day I'll have to use a sword in place of my words.

What will that be like? Will I hesitate before making the killing blow? Maybe I'll freeze once the act is done, and my blade is covered in blood? Maybe I'll attempt to grant them mercy if they beg?

Images of my family flashed through my mind. My mother, so loving and kind. My father, so caring and loyal. My twin brothers Willem and Martyn, mischievous and joyful.

No... For the safety of my family, I will not hesitate when that day comes. I will end the threats to my family before they have a chance to harm a hair on those I love. And when I'm Lord of Casterly Rock, I will ensure the Seven Kingdoms understand the insanity of attacking House Lannister. This, I swear.

With thoughts of keeping my oath, I assume the basic-fighting stance. I begin to slowly work through each sword swing and connecting footwork. Smoothly blending each swing into the next without wasted movement or ceasing momentum.

I lost myself in the sword forms. I pushed all my thoughts of bandits, and torture, and murder into my movements. I poured all my anger and grief and disgust into guiding my sword.

At this moment, there were no bandits, no army, and no Westeros. There was only me, and the blade was an extension of my will. With each completion of the forms, I would begin again, but just a bit faster.

Over and over, I would work through the sword forms, and with each repetition, I would move faster and faster. The edge of my sword was clear and crisp in my vision. It was the only thing I focused on as the rest of the world began to blur.

A snap of a twig underfoot causes my body to instantly whirl towards the noise and raise my sword to defend against an attack. Standing four paces away from any of the flattened grass is my father. Five Lannister men stand a respectful distance behind him with faces of awe and disbelief.

I lowered my sword and then sheathed it in one smooth motion. My breath was quick, but my mind was at ease. I felt at peace.

With a subtle wave of my father's hand, the guards moved back and assumed defensive positions around us. They were far enough away to give us some privacy, but close enough for the keen of hearing, to overhear some of what we say.

With a touch of concern in his eyes, "How are you feeling?" My father asked.

I can't help giving him a half-smile. "Much better now," I admit.

Father stepped forward and placed his hand on my shoulder, giving it a comforting squeeze. Slightly craning my neck to look him in the eyes, I notice the top of my head comes just below his nose.

"I am proud of you, Lancel. You fulfilled your duty, admirably," My father proudly stated.

Despite the gruesome nature of which he is proud, I can't help feeling satisfied. After reveling in the feeling for a moment, I ask something that's been on my mind. "Did you learn where the bandits came from?"

"They belonged to some worthless landed knight that squandered away his money. His men turned to banditry to supplement their lack of pay." Father said with disdain. "He should be dealt with before nightfall."

"Was he aware of the actions of his men, or former men?" I curiously ask.

Using his hand on my shoulder to turn me towards camp, we began to steadily return to the tents. "He was most likely aware, but even if he wasn't, it doesn't matter. There are consequences for murdering those under our protection. He shall be a reminder to those with short memories." My father said. "Now, tell me truthfully, have you ever had a glass of wine?"

*********************************

Arryk leaned comfortably against a stump, enjoying the warmth of the fire and the banter between Jate and Donnis.

"You should have seen how fast he was moving. Like a damned blur, I tell ya," Jate excitedly said to the men around the fire. "Still just a boy and earned the name Young Lion. I wonder what name they'll call me?" Jate foolishly asked.

"Sword-swallower." Donnis immediately said.

"Definitely sword-swallower." Henly agreed.

"Sword-swallower suits you," Arryk said from the side.

"Fuck all you, you bunch of pillow-biters!" Jate angrily yelled, to the laughter of all present.

"He's not called the Young Lion, because he's still a boy. It's because of who we call the Old Lion, ya half-wit." Donnis said as he flicked a lump of coal from the fire towards Jate. "So tread carefully, we're traveling with the future lord of the Rock."

Jate effortlessly avoids the small piece of coal. "You forget about the Imp, you cunt? He's the true heir and Lord Tywin's son."

"Fuck that true heir shite and fuck the Imp too. You don't see that short-fuck out here do you?" Henly growled. "The Young Lion may not be his son, but I'll bet your lips on my cock, that Lord Tywin is grooming him to take over."

Donnis nodded his head in agreement. "Wait and see. One day the Young Lion will grab the Seven Kingdoms by the scruff of the neck and fuck anyone that dares oppose. And it'll be our cocks doing the thrustin."

Laughter broke out as Donnis stood and made thrusting motions with his hips. As Donnis took his seat, the men about the campfire suddenly grasped the hilts of their swords. Each man had his eyes fixed towards the east.

Striding into the light of the campfire, Captain Slate quickly surveyed the men as they released their grip on their hilts. "Get to sleep. We're riding at dawn. Lord Kevan wants to be back to the Rock as soon as possible."

As Captain Slate was walking away, he called over his shoulder, "You have first watch, Sword-Swallower!"