Bitterbridge Part VII

Damian is leaning against the wall near the window with his arms folded, his index finger tapping rhythmically on his arm and he is biting his lip. His eyes move from one side of the small room to the other, he looks at the cot where the unconscious young man is lying, at the old woman who is stitching his wound and at the bowl full of red-dyed water.

"The boy is lucky." Says the old woman. "The stab wound was clean and you brought him here before he bled to death."

Damian opens his mouth to answer but his throat is very dry and what comes out seems like a kind of growl, after swallowing saliva and moistening his throat a little he speaks:

"Ehem, will he live?" His eyes fix on the young man whom he would have come to consider a friend in other circumstances if he had allowed himself to open his heart to others. Jeremy was nothing but friendly and cordial during the weeks they traveled together.

"Only the gods can know for sure, boy. Only the gods." The old woman answers. "I have seen boys his age recover from worse injuries, and I have seen others die after a light blow to the head. The mortal body is as mysterious and unpredictable as fate."

`A yes or no would have sufficed.`

Damian takes a moment to take a deep breath and calm himself, being rude to the healer won't do him (nor Jeremy) any good.

"And what is your personal opinion, healer?"

"I would say that he will live. The wound is not infected, he does not have a fever and his complexion did not pale too much."

The redhead feels a weight lift off his shoulders and he lets out a sigh of relief.

"That's good, I wouldn't want to have to tell his mother that her only son died."

"Wouldn't be a pretty sight, no." The old woman nods. "Now to the important thing." The old woman gets up from her chair and wipes her hands on a cloth before walking towards him with a greedy glint in her eyes.

Damian just sighs, already knowing her intentions, he reaches into his coinbag and takes out two silver coins.

"Two silver stags, as agreed."

"Hehe." The old woman takes the coins and quickly puts them in a pocket on her skirt, or at least Damian thinks it is a pocket. He looks away and shudders, he doesn't want to think about what this old woman has kept inside her skirts.

"If you want me to take care of him until he wakes up, it will cost you more." The healer looks at him with a raised eyebrow as if waiting for him to contradict her.

"I don't expect charity." Damian already knows that in this town no one will do anything for the goodness of their heart, even the septons charge for absolution after confessions which never happened in Greenwood. `Not even the cleric is immune to greed. Although not unexpected at least I hoped that religion would be somewhat more discreet with their corruption.`

"Good, good. You don't know how many idiots show up at my doors with their sick children begging me to help them. What do they think? That herbs grow anywhere and are free? That I have plenty of supplies and time?" The old woman rolls her eyes and snorts dismissively.

Damian is not in the least surprised by her words, when he appeared with an unconscious Jeremy on his back the old woman seemed ready to slam the door in his face. Only the jingle of his coinbag stopped her from doing so.

"I'll come for him in a while, take care of him in the meantime." Damian looks at his cloak and decides to leave it because it is stained with a lot of blood. Luckily the blood didn't stain his clothes so he doesn't have to worry about drawing too much attention. Bloody clothing isn't the strangest thing the citizens of Bitterbridge have seen, but it's still going to draw a lot of eyes.

After agreeing on the price for taking care of Jeremy until nightfall, he leaves the healer's house and starts walking towards the town gates.

`It was a mugging or-` He stops pacing and shakes his head. `Nope, none of my business. I won't involve myself in this.` Damian walks knowingly ignoring that he is already involved in whatever is going on. Taking Jeremy to a healer and paying for his treatment already involved him in this, the only thing he can pray for is that "this" isn't the Merchant Guild's vengeful plan.

"Oh who am I kidding?" He mutters under his breath. "Knowing my luck..." Sighing, he continued on his way, hoping to get to the market quickly and inform Sansa of the condition of her son. As soon as he does that he will buy the supplies for his travels and he will leave Bitterbridge before nightfall.

That's his plan: Get away from this place so he doesn't get involved in the shit storm.

A good plan, one that will save him a lot of heartaches but one that was ruined by a combination of bad and good luck (depending on one's perspective).

Damian turned a corner and saw someone he recognized, someone who was acting very suspicious.

`Is the captain from yesterday.` The captain of the Gate of Silver guards is wrapped in a cloak and walking quickly somewhere. He clearly doesn't want attention and he looks uneasy.

`Those guards are the dogs of the Merchant Guild.` Damian almost decided to ignore him and continue towards the River Market but his sharp eyes noticed some red stains on the guard's dagger sheath and on his right glove.

He only saw those stains for a second but it was long enough for his brain to connect the dots.

`The size of his dagger matches- and the color of the blood- Crap! So it was them! Stay out of this Damian!`

Damian sighs in exasperation and ignoring his own thoughts he begins to follow the guard.

"Damn it, me."

***

Albin stands in front of the door and takes a shaky breath, his hands are still shaking and he thanks the gods that no one is around to see him in such a pathetic state.

`Calm down! Breathe!` He takes several deep breaths and clenches his fists. `You are the captain of the Silver Guard! You were only doing your duty! Yes- duty.` Blinking he sees the face of a man half his age staring at him in shock. Albin shakes his head and continues to clench his fists. `You had no choice, no one can say no to Master Alec.`

Albin used to be a wandering knight, one not very rich but never poor either. Life on the road was quiet and simple, he only had to worry about taking care of his horses and keeping his equipment in good condition. But at the beginning of the year the news reached him that his brother died leaving his wife and children unprotected, as an honorable man he came to Bitterbridge to take care of them and ensure that the descendants of his brother does not endure hardships.

He had several contacts in the Bitterbridge, several knights and even some nobles, and it was one of those contacts who secured him such a prestigious position within the town. The Silver Guard, as everyone calls them, is a group that does not exactly belong to the townguard, although many consider them as such; they are mainly in charge of protecting the Gate of Silver and maintaining order among the many merchants that come and go.

When his old friend told him about the position he was more than willing to take it and the wage itself made it worth it. But his friend never told him some details about the job, some details that... That no good knight could overlook. But he did. The pay allows him to pay apprenticeships for his four nephews and a good dowry for his niece, it allows him to give them a good life.

With a heavy heart he knocks on the door, a voice on the other side says to enter. Upon entering he sees one of his superiors sitting at a desk writing something.

Master Alec, or Dirty Alec as people call him in whispers on the streets.

His appearance does not match his nickname, he is a well-dressed man with a neatly trimmed beard and short hair brushed to the side. As soon as Albin approaches, he can smell the faint aroma of the expensive oils that Master Alec always uses. He smells like flowers but he could never figure out which flower and he doesn't dare to ask.

"Good morning, Master Alec-"

Alec holds up a hand, interrupting Albin in the middle of a sentence.

"I have no use for idle chatter, Captain." The merchant looks up from the letter he is writing. "We must focus on the topic of this meeting and finish it as soon as possible, I have many places to be and the days are getting shorter."

"Er- Of course!" Albin clears his throat nervously. "My men are already waiting at the agreed place. Lucan will make sure to guide her there and the men will take care of the rest."

"I have noticed your nerves and indecision. Doesn't my plan have your approval, captain?" Alec looks at him with cold, analytical eyes.

Albin breaks into a nervous sweat and has to clear his throat several times before he can answer so as not to stutter. Alec smiles slightly seeing his fear, the sight pleases him and he leans back with his chair placidly.

"No, no! I would never- Is just, she is just a girl, Master Alec. Wouldn't it be better to target her father?" Albin speaks very apprehensively, afraid that his words will irritate his boss.

"Ha." He chuckles and looks at him condescendingly. "I don't expect a simple-minded man to understand my plans. But I'm in a good mood so I'll indulge you: Alester is a weak man and his caravan is hardly more solid than a thatched house. In targeting his greatest treasure, his daughter, we will destroy him and his caravan while ensuring that the morale of those lowlives who decided to follow him collapses. Those lowlives didn't know who they were messing with." Alec starts to laugh and his subordinate looks at him with even more fear.

"But raping a girl-"

"Stop wasting time, Albin." Alec interrupts him, his tone is much harsher than before and his subordinate swallows hard. "Troubling yourself over this is meaningless, you are wasting your time and most important: mine."

The message was clear, if Albin continues to insist on the issue he will become a hindrance and he already knows how Alec deals with hindrances.

Unknown to both, their conversation is overheard by a third, a third who is leaning against the wall on the other side of the window standing on a protruding piece of wood. The window of the building they are in faces an alley so no one noticed the boy climbing on the wall of the building.

***

Damian felt his blood run cold in his veins.

`Raping a girl-` Alysanne's face flashes through his mind and is quickly replaced by his mother's. He blinks and sees the corpse of his mother lying in that inn, that corpse is quickly replaced by that of the girl with whom he became attached in recent weeks.

His heart beats like drums of war, resounding in his ears and he feels its echo in his fingertips. Damian feels a familiar sensation, a red haze settles over his eyes and his body is no longer his.

His body moves on its own and before he knows it he is running across the rooftops of the town moving swiftly towards a destination that he himself does not know.

`Jeremy was the bait, somehow they knew- Lucan! He told them that Alysanne considers him a good friend. Marble Market- near that place I found Jeremy.` His mind connects all the clues and a map of Bitterbridge is already being formed in his mind. The hours that he spent earlier exploring the town came in handy and he guessed the most probable places where those thugs had set up the ambush.

`I will not fail! Not this time!`

In his mind images of Alysanne and Marian overlap and Damian accelerates even faster, leaping from rooftop to rooftop with the grace and agility of a leopard.

"I will not fail!"

***

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p a t r e o n. com /EdenofKovir

Do you remember his behavior after his mother's death? How he was on "autopilot"? That trait is his greatest weakness and greatest strength, it will appear in several important moments in the story. In the last chapters Damian has been fighting with himself: Reason VS Heart. The next chapter will be the last, or penultimate, of Bitterbridge/The Caravan.