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GOT Chapter 86: Horned Helm, Heavy Hammer
🕑 Added 2025-08-23 03:14:46 +0000 UTCStanding on the hillside, gazing at the picturesque scene before him, Kal stroked the stubble along his chin. From behind him he drew forth
Standing on the hillside, gazing at the picturesque scene before him, Kal stroked the stubble along his chin. From behind him he drew forth
Standing on the hillside, gazing at the picturesque scene before him, Kal stroked the stubble along his chin. From behind him he drew forth
Standing on the hillside, gazing at the picturesque scene before him, Kal stroked the stubble along his chin. From behind him he drew forth
Standing on the hillside, gazing at the picturesque scene before him, Kal stroked the stubble along his chin. From behind him he drew forth a map he had taken from the Freys and began to study it.
“Mm… in roughly half a day’s ride, we should come upon a castle called Raventree Hall. According to this marking, it belongs to the Blackwood family.”
Seeing Kal unroll the map, Jory leaned in as well.
But he could make nothing of it, and only watched blankly as Kal’s finger traced across the parchment, pointing here and there.
All the while, he kept nodding his head vigorously beside him.
Once Kal had confirmed their position and the distance, he put the map away again.
Then, turning to Jory with a serious look, he said, “Before night falls, we’ll need to send out a few scouting parties into the surrounding area. Since there’s a ruined castle here, it stands to reason there must still be farmers working the nearby lands.”
“Your thinking is sound, Ser Kal. And we still have time to spare,” Jory replied.
To him, there was nothing ill in Kal’s proposal. On the contrary, he found the King’s bastard before him not only meticulous in thought but also possessed of uncommon knowledge.
And, of course, he could fight.
Jory nodded in agreement, though his gaze drifted, almost unconsciously, to the great antlered helm and the warhammer hanging by Kal’s saddle.
“At that time, I’ll need you to keep watch over the camp,” Kal added. “We only need to send out a dozen riders, two by two, ranging south for several kilometers—that should suffice.”
Kal had no intention of probing too far. For them, the matter was not so urgent as to warrant such risks.
Besides, at their current pace, Riverrun lay scarcely a week’s ride away. There was no need to press the matter with undue haste.
Jory agreed without hesitation.
The task was hardly difficult for him.
For this cavalry host, rest was simple enough—once each man had tended to his three horses, a bite of hardtack sufficed.
With sentries chosen to stand the night watch, the rest needed only to curl up beneath their furs in some sheltered corner to sleep.
After a brief rest to regain their strength, Kal once more summoned Kossi and Jon. Along with seven or eight Stark riders, they divided into six teams—twelve men in all.
They would then fan out southward, searching several kilometers ahead for a village suitable for resupply.
Kal took Jon with him, while Kossi and the more seasoned riders each paired off with another before setting out.
Since the mission was not urgent, Kal slowed his pace, guiding Jon at an easy trot toward Raventree Hall.
So Kal resolved that if, within the next day or two, they found nothing, he would have no choice but to trouble the Blackwoods directly.
Barring mishap, that would also be their final resupply before Riverrun.
“Lord Kal, up ahead—is that a village?”
Jon’s sudden shout broke Kal’s quiet thoughts of their route and the coming war. After so many days in the saddle that his legs ached, the boy’s spirit still flared with a strange eagerness at every new sight of the South.
Noticing Kal’s silence, Jon had refrained from disturbing him, urging his horse forward instead.
Now, as he crested a low ridge, his eyes lit upon what seemed to be a village nestled below.
But the excitement on his face froze almost at once.
“Wait—what is that?!” Jon cried out, his voice sharp with alarm.
Kal, not far behind, caught the note of shock. His brow tightened, and with a flick of Fawkes’ reins he spurred forward.
“It looks like Westerland troops… have they already spread this far so quickly?!”
Riding up beside Jon, Kal needed only a glance to see clearly what was happening.
With his sharpened body and keen sight, he could make out what Jon Snow could not: before them, no more than thirty riders were laying waste to the helpless village.
“What?! That’s the army of the Westerlands?”
Hearing Kal’s answer, Jon Snow couldn’t stop his heart from trembling.
“But shouldn’t they still be at Riverrun? We’re not far from the Blue Fork, and we’ve only just set out—”
His voice carried a fear he couldn’t put into words, as if he dared not believe what he was seeing.
Hearing the tremor in his tone, Kal turned his head, gave him a glance, and then raised his hand to pat him on the head.
“If you’re afraid, then stay here and wait for me!”
“But if you have the courage, then charge with me!”
Kal did not choose to comfort Jon Snow. Instead, he domineeringly gave him only two choices.
Struck awake from his shock by that slap, Jon instinctively drew a sharp breath when he heard Kal’s words.
He understood the meaning behind them, and it made his eyes widen.
Yet Kal did not wait for his answer. Silently, he took up the massive stag-horn helm that Robert had gifted him before the march and set it upon his head.
Then, with a single motion, he lifted the great warhammer—so heavy it was meant for two hands—up with just one.
Once ready, Kal gave Jon one final look through the narrow slit of the helmet.
With a sudden shout, he tugged the reins, and the dark chestnut warhorse, as if touched by spirit, thundered down the slope before them.
Clods of dirt and torn grass flung up from its hooves, spattering across the face of the bastard boy from the North.
The spray jolted Jon Snow back from his daze.
He raised a hand to wipe at the place the soil had struck, and his gaze gradually grew clear.
By the time he realized what had just happened, his knight was already more than a hundred meters away, galloping forward.
Unconsciously, Jon lowered the hand that had touched his cheek until it found the hilt of the longsword at his waist.
In that instant, he realized his hand was trembling.
So he gripped it tighter—tighter still—until he finally drew the blade.
“Your name is ‘Pale Justice’… so this is what it means?”
Staring at the sword that Kal had returned to him after that past incident, Jon’s right hand still trembled, but now he knew the choice he would make.
And at that thought, watching the knight charge alone toward enemies outnumbering him by dozens, a blazing fire ignited in Jon’s chest as well.
He dug his heels hard into his horse’s flanks, raised Pale Justice high, and let out a cry that tore from the depths of his chest.
“Hyah!!!”
...
On the rise beyond the village, two mounted figures suddenly appeared, recklessly charging straight toward them.
The sentries among the Westerlands soldiers ravaging the Riverlands spotted them at once.
And when one of the riders, upon seeing them, immediately spurred forward into a charge, the soldier who had discovered Kal and Jon wasted no time. He blew the silver whistle at his throat, its piercing shriek cutting the air and rousing the men who were plundering the village.
At the very first sound, they merely paused a little before dropping the tasks in their hands, lifting their heads toward where the whistle had blown.
Without hesitation, they seized their weapons, sought out their horses, and surged forth in a rush, shouting to each other as they gathered toward the source of the signal.
“What happened?!”
The first to reach the sentry was a squad leader, who asked in haste. The sentry immediately raised a hand, pointing toward the two riders charging straight at them.
“Where did those two fools come from?”
“Could it be that there are more behind them?”
The cavalry captain cast a strange look at the pair, his tone tinged with both mockery and doubt.
Yet out of caution, he quickly rallied his men.
After all, they were now deep in the heart of the Riverlands, pushing north. Beyond this point, only their force remained.
So no amount of caution would be too much. And looking at the two before him, he feared they might be bait for a trap.
But when he finished assembling his troop and looked up again, there were still only those two riders. He heard no other galloping hooves approaching.
That confirmed it—only these two had come.
“Go. Cut one of them down! Leave the other alive for me!”
At his command, four riders immediately spurred forward.
And once he had given his orders, the cavalry captain, now a little more at ease, allowed himself the luxury of studying the figures drawing ever closer.
It was then he saw the golden surcoat, and the striking stag-horn helm.
“What is that—Baratheon?”
The captain arched his brow, blurting it out in a strange tone.
But what came in response was nothing but a warhammer raised high—then crashing down.
[Bang!]
[Thud!]
The captain’s eyes flew wide.
What had he just witnessed?!!
