HARRON I

HARRON I

    Somewhere in the Winterwoods, a camp-fire was illuminating the dusk and wrapping the freezing region with its warmth. Tents were set up for the King's men, who loyally accompanied him in his hunt. Every other part of the forest was as silent as the Black Forest. However this stead was full of hustle and bustle caused by the men. Some of those men were inside the tents, some were warming themselves near the flames and drinking wine. They were tired and delighted at the same for the hunt was successful. The king had a great fortune as it was rare to find a good catch those days and he was able to get a gigantic brown stag. A young lad was singing 'We Fly High' beside the fire and a wrinkled old man was engrossed in skinning the stag and appreciating the lad's appropriate notes. 

        The king was inside his tent, taking rest or probably enjoying with his favorite companions, "books". Harron loved to read books since he was a child. And he didn't stopped loving it even after being crowned as the King of Six Kingdoms. He was in the middle of his forties, father of two and protector of many. He always found hunting as a great amusement. His father, Genon, the former King used to take him for hunting with him in his leisure. Harron believed that spending time in the nature's lap, away from the responsibilities is a blessing for a king. He knew he had to return to the capital. He was making up his mind that he would be at his throne soon and would be listening to the Lords, Ladies, the Commanders, the Knights, the Mistresses and most importantly the Queen complaining or demanding for something. Well, it sounds vastly exhaustinhg but that is the type of King he was. 

       He turned a page of the book he was reading with a smile, that suggested disbelief. "Secrets of the Ryders" says that the Glass Palace would fall one day when the waves of the Queen's Bay would be as high as the idol of Horick Sunryder, situated in the Eastmensburg. The tears of the Sunryder would vanish before they would touch his cheek. The sun would be imprisoned by the stormy clouds and darkness would be everywhere in the joyous city. The towers would start dissolving in the water one by one. And people.... He closed the book as he didn't like it anymore. He had read all of his books that he carried for the hunt. This was the last one.

      He had never been to the Glasslands. He couldn't draw imaginary images inside his mind while he was reading this book. And it had the words of destruction. All the magic, mysteries, rare and unusual activities of the Sunryders, this was not his genre. He put the book on the table and closed his eyes. He could listen to the song the lad was singing. It was his House's. Darron, the Conqueror had attacked on the capital of Alyster Sunryder long long ago. He tried to distract himself from all these thoughts of Houses and places. He thought of his daughter. He pictured her with her red hair, playing with Sharry and grinning and running around the Royal Garden of his capital. The grin on her face was so satisfying that he nearly fell asleep. The candles inside his tent started to dim. 
  
       He was wearing dark-blue velvet. His body muscular, his beard and mustache needed a cut. He had decided to fix it once he would be in Alphaville. His hair was dark golden brown still free of silver threads. His jawline not so sharp but attractive. He had put his crown beside him as if he didn't care about it.

     "Bear!"

      He opened his brown eyes abruptly. "In the song of falcon, where would a bear come from ?",he thought. He tied to listen more carefully. The indistinct sound started being amplified. It turned into noise. Horses neighed, the people screamed in terror and ran here and there. Harron first thought the camp was on fire. He got up and rubbed his eyes with his cold hand. Ser Rickard Welselye came running in. "Your Grace!" He held his breath. He was shaking with fear. His hand was on his sword's hilt. Harron had never seen his Lord Commander of Kingsguard in a situation like this. He asked, "What?" Ser Rickard answered with the same fear, "A giant bear, your Grace."

  The singer was wounded and screaming in pain. The bear tossed him on the ground. He tried to escape but in vain. The beast clawed him with sharp and strong nails. The lad started to flood with his own blood like the Old King was flooded in the song he was singing. There were a few men only. The fire had been extinguished with the strong winds. The bear was out of its mind. It was growling and the Winterwoods was shivering in terror. Harron came out of his tent and was fear-stricken. He saw Ser Rickard and the rest of his Kingsguard drawing their steels. They shouted, "Go back to the tents." Some of the frightened people retreated to the tents. Some were wounded and screaming on the ground. The old man was lying as lifeless as the half-skinned stag on the ground.

       The winds were cold enough to shiver Harron, he forgot to put on his warm clothes in a hurry. He tried to come nearer to the bear. One of his men stopped him, "No, your Grace. You might get hurt. Stay in there." Harron saw Ser Rickard and Ser Othel trying his best to distract the bear from the people, so that they could run. Ser Ferris and Ser Samwell were helping those wounded men to get into the tents. The bear was being wilder and wilder. It endured some cuts by Rickard's steel but each wound made it more furious. Some of the brave men started throwing stones at it, while some showed their archery. But the beast was giant. It stroke its claw at Ser Rickard and his sword slipped from his hand. Ser Othel knew he wouldn't be able to handle the  giant alone. He dropped his weapon and grabbed Ser Rickard's hands and dragged him out of the bear's reach.

      Bear was hurt. A number of arrows had been sticked to its body. And his growl grew scarier. Harron saw it weakening. He cried out,"set the fire" His men heard their king. They rushed to light some torches. Ser Othell took his commander into his tent. And  called for the Master of Healing. Harron stopped Master Janeb while he crossed him, "Save him" He couldn't even hear his own voice, it was stuck in his throat. The Master bowed and went on. The bear's growl was at its highest.

        The men came with flambeaux and confronted the growling beast. The flames frightened it. It turned back growling and vanished into the woods.  Harron noticed the bear staggering. "Poor animal", he murmured. But the blood-shed changed his mind slightly. He prayed for the departed and sought peace for them. He became gloomy when he saw the lad lying on the ground deceased. He could never sing again. It hadn't been long that he was gladly singing and then he was empty. He went inside his chamber and lied himself down on his blanket. He was incapable of thinking. Once he closed his eyes in agony, they didn't open for long.

  The dawn-birds were chirping deep inside the woods. Darkness was filled in the king's tent. All the candles were dead. Harron unsealed his eyes and saw nothing but gloom. He brushed his hair back off his forehead with his left hand and searched for his crown with the right. He didn't get to touch his crown. 'It was right there, on the furry blanket. Where'd it go ?', he questioned himself suspiciously. He raised his head up and looked around himself. It was near his feet. 

      He heard footsteps approaching and saw a blurry ignis coming closer and closer with his sound of footsteps. Ser Rickard Welselye came in with a torch. Harron gazed at him with confusion. The armoured knight knealed down and picked up the crown. Harron got up and took the crown from him. "Thank the Master, you're breathing", said he with an ease. He turned back and started moving his feet towards the table. The knight replied,"The man is excellent at his things, your Grace."

       Harron turned his head and looked at Ser Rickard mysteriously. He put the crown on the pile of books and seated himself on the wooden chair. "When are we leaving ?", asked he. Rickard came close to the king and answered, "Many of our men are hurt. They need some time to recover. We'll be leaving few moments after the sunrise, your Grace." Harron laughed a little. "Oh Rick! I'll have you proscribed if you call me that again. Please call me what you used to call me, at least when we're alone."

        Rickard and Harron had grown up together. They were trained in the same fighting pit. Rickard was from House Welselye, elder son of his Lord Father. He was taller than Harron and more efficient in the art of bravery. They were friends, good friends. Harron knew who'd be his Lord Commander of Kingsguard before he was crowned.

       "Harry !", said the commander being a bit friendly. 

- "Yes, that name. I've missed it."

- "May I have a seat, Harry ?"

      He searched for a chair. "No, you may not", Harron replied strictly. When Rick didn't understand the cause, the king laughed. "Come on, you don't need my permission to sit, Rick", said he. Rick picked up a chair and came back to the table. He was still holding the torch. Harron asked him to lit the candles, which were on the table. He helped him doing it. He put off the torch-fire with water. Now the candles were the only source of light. Rickard sat beside him and took a deep breath. 

     "A bear in the Winterwoods !", Harry exclaimed.

    "Such a hardship", said Rick touching his left arm. It was bandaged up by Master Janeb. He wasn't feeling any pain. It was just a tear on his strong skin. 

    "It should have been killed", said Harry looking into the flames. "The wounds will make him stronger. I saw the creature. It was out of its mind"

     "Yes, I fear for the villages. Gods take him away. He was brutally wounded. It would be suffering from unbearable pain", Ser Rickard said looking at the king.

     Harron reached out for the wine and filled two glasses. He offered a glass to his old friend. As Ser Rickard took it, he said, "for the bear". The knight repeated and took a sip. He felt a bit cold and expressed, "I noticed this place is now colder than it was"

     "I didn't", Harron disagreed. "I feel unexpectedly warm. Akita was freezing. Misae couldn't put up with the cold or perhaps with my mother" He chuckled. 

     "The Northerners should come to the South. They can't survive the winter storms", said Rickard gravely. His voice was strong.

    "There's no place left for them to live in our Kingdom. Lord Rosewatcher says population of Roselands has increased. They need more food and land for the people. We can't call all of them. The only place left is Crosslands", Harron explained and tasted the wine. It was brought from Akita.

     "There is no way they can live with those wildlings", Rickard understood. He took another sip.

    "Whenever there's a talk about the lands we have, it seems like we have enough. But only a king knows how much land he has got", Harron's voice deepened. He looked deeper into the flames. He kept on saying, "Our brave ancestors conquered the country. They handed it over to us. Everyday it gets harder and harder. We try our best to provide our people with the best. But it is never enough. Sunryders have always at better position. They pour a single drop of poison and make the whole sea poisonous for us. All our efforts dissolve in it. The southerners never showed loyalty. They trade with them and lose wealth. Everyone praises that kingdom. Gods know what's special in that monstrous castle". He emptied the glass with one sip.

    "They are powerful like the poison. Everyone is afraid to rebel against them. Every book praises about their noble deeds. I want to see if it's true. I want to see the Glass Palace. I've always wanted to", said Rickard.

      "Do you remember that encounter ?", Harron asked him as if he had forgotten. "I do. How can I forget ?", Rickard was gloomy and so was Harron. Rickard remembered, "They burned Derrick alive in front of us. Those evil men ! I'd slaughter each one of them myself if that'd bring him back. We were more than two hundred. But there were only fifty alive when we reached at Woodswatch. They butchered all of them."

      Harron refilled his glass with more wine. He stood up and drank it all at once. He picked up his crown and put it on.

     "We were never brave enough to cross the Black Forest", said Harron "But my son is on his way to Queen's Landing. And Rickard ! My heart says he will succeed".