Chapter 3

"Come on boys, do keep up!"

Grinning back at them, I picked up the pace through the narrow trail, pushing against the occasional bramble that got in the way. I could hear their wheezing breaths as they tried to follow in my footsteps. They were nearing their limit, I could tell. Good. Almost two hours uphill at a trot wasn't an easy feat, but I had trained them well.

I pushed hard for another five minutes, yelling back at them whenever I noticed they were falling behind to the point where I wouldn't be able to see them through the brush that closed in around us. I finally stopped at a small clearing where the land leveled and a couple of fallen logs made for a nice seating arrangement. Jack was the first to appear through the trees, his short brown hair and shirt soaked like he'd taken a shower. Upon seeing I'd stopped, he tried and failed to say something through his ragged breaths.

Chuckling, I waved him off and pointed to the log opposite the one I was seating. He gave me a thankful nod and flopped onto it, huffing like a buffalo. Jace, his twin, came crashing through next and dropped to the ground with a tired groan as soon as he saw us, holding onto his ribs like they were about to spontaneously combust.

Grey was last, finally topping the last rise almost a minute after the twins. The shorter boy looked paler than usual, and he gasped for air like each breath was his last. I'd taken him into my service when he was thirteen and I had soon noticed the boy had a mild case of asthma. I had put him to swimming every morning since then. He was getting better.

I walked up to where Grey had stopped and reached into the backpack I was carrying. "Get some of this in you before you pass out, Grey." Breaking off a piece of cracker in half, I pushed it into his hands and smiled. "Hardtack and jerky for the three of us, lads. The breakfast of champions."

Grey gave out a rasping wheeze in response. I'd take it as positive. I went around the small clearing giving each of them their portions before seating back down on my log and starting on my own hardtack.

On the other log, Jack gathered enough strength to lift himself up into a seating position after a few minutes of respiratory agony. "You're…" He coughed, gasped, took a long draught of his waterskin and wiped his face with his sleeve. "You're not human, m'lord," he said, still breathless. "Not human, I say."

I cracked a smirk and took a bite of my jerky. "Oh, I'm human alright, Jack," I said after chewing. "The world is bigger than you think. Believe me, there are better men than I out there. And things that aren't men at all. That's where the danger lies. That's why I put you through all of this."

"Are you training us to fight demons of some sort, my lord?" That was Jace, speaking up even as he sprawled on the leafy ground. His words drawled with exhaustion. "Because that's not what you promised us three years ago."

I laughed. "You'll fight whoever I tell you to fight," I told him not unkindly. "And you'll kill them too, demons or otherwise. I'll make sure of it."

Jack grinned where he sat. And despite his words, I knew Jace liked the intensity of it all. All the boys under my command did. To them, who were once child beggars and orphans in the island of Tarth, third and fourth sons of poor farmers who couldn't feed so many mouths, or the result of an illegitimate coupling between some laundrywoman and a guardsman, this was an opportunity of a lifetime. A chance to be a part of something bigger—and better yet, to serve under your future lord and get rewarded for it. That and the free room and board, of course. Whenever I recruited another kid, I knew that was the first selling point. Everything else came later.

"As you say, Lord Galladon," Jace said, and I nodded. Grey was eating quietly outside the log area, sitting with his back against a tall oak. When he caught me looking his way, he nodded deeply. Not a big talker, but I knew Grey was just as devoted to my cause than the twins.

It had all started some three years ago when I turned twelve. The year before, I had finally convinced my father to try out the agricultural changes I'd been badgering him about for years, and the results were finally coming in. A four-field rotation allowed Tarth to breed more cattle year round and produce enough grain that we could fill our larders to the brink and export the surplus to King's Landing and Pentos across the Narrow Sea, and especially to the Stormlands during the rainy seasons when houses would occasionally lose their crops to the sweeping winds that battered the land.

With the spare gold we were making, Father hadn't been able to deny me when I asked to train some boys from the villages around Evenfall Hall. It wouldn't cost much to bring in a few extra mouths into the household, and he'd seen how I had been shaping up to be a demon in the yard. Even in a father-son relationship, that gave me clout. Martial might was king in Westeros.

I started out with five boys, just five, to test things out, Grey and the twins being the oldest among them. I knew I could've been a first-grade warrior coasting on innate talent alone, but I didn't want to be just another Tarth lordling who might go down in history as a better than usual fighter. Big deal, those names were a dime a dozen. I had my eyes set on higher goals. For that, I needed an edge, and there was only so much I could achieve when I was only one man, genetically superior or not.

I hadn't amounted to much of a soldier in my past life, just did my two years of obligatory service in my country's army and returned to civilian life. Never saw action beyond some intense training exercises and a pacifying operation in hostile territory. Still, combined with the military education as the future Lord of Tarth and some self-study in my other life, I'd been able to cobble up a regimen that would harden these boys into deadly killers. If nothing else, they'd be the fittest fighting force this side of the Narrow Sea.

Their ranks swelled to 15 in the first year, and now I had twenty five boys—some as young as eleven, the oldest being the twins at seventeen—under my command. I doubted any of them would ever be able to cross swords with a kingsguard or any of the legendary fighters of Westeros. They weren't trained to be knights after all. I didn't have the time or the coin to invest so heavily in each of them as individuals.

But they could work a bow and arrow like they were Robin Hood themselves, and stalk any animal—or any man—through the woods, and fight, swim, grapple, and march in lockstep. For the talented and loyal, I had started giving lessons on reading and writing, then moving on to small unit tactics and encrypted communication. I was molding them into the sword I could wield against my enemies and the shield that would guard my back from any unseen blade.

Or so I hoped. Problem was, it wasn't cheap to house, train, and feed all these boys on my own dime. Not at fifteen. It stretched my allowance to the utmost, even if it was larger than what you would expect for the heir of a not-so-important lord, given my contribution to our house. I couldn't support more than the twenty five boys that I had now. If I wanted to build a true force, one that was independent from the regular levy Tarth could call upon, I needed more gold.

This tourney would be the beginning of it. Given it was supposed to be in honor of the newest Prince of the realm, Tywin Lannister had announced a fifteen thousand dragon purse to the winner of the joust. The largest reward ever offered for a non-royal tourney. A drop in the ocean for him, certainly, but a pinch of ambrosia amidst a desert for myself.

I let the lads eat in peace then rest for twenty minutes before I stood up. "Time to go boys," I told them. "I have to track another half hour up to Casterly Rock and you'll get to coast downhill back to Lannisport. I made it in the darkness earlier today, so you'll be fine. Don't forget to erase your tracks as you go. It's good practice."

"Yes, Lord Galladon!" The three of them chorused. They went about clearing their area for crumbs of food or anything that would give away their presence with military efficiency, and they knew better than to groan and complain at this point.

I allowed them a certain degree of familiarity, as the three of them had become the closest things I had for friends in this world. But at the end of the day, I was their lord, and I knew better than to try and overtune milenia of social conditioning, especially as it favored me so heavily.

"You know what to do today, yes?" I asked once they were finished and we were ready to go our separate ways.

"Aye," Jack answered for the group. "It shall be done, m'lord."

They all saluted with their right fist pressed against their chests.

"Good," I said. "One last thing before we leave. Do you have a name for me yet?"

Stepping forward from their line, Jace began to speak.