The Road to Underhill

[The Raven]

Flex hadn't the faintest clue where Underhill was. No one had bothered to tell him. The nearest sign only stated that Harrenhal was ten miles south, and was completely superfluous in light of how impossible it was to miss.

All three men were given skinny nags to ride. Nickelplate groused that as servants of a knightly house, they should possess mighty steeds that inspired respect. Butterball suggested that he could divest the first knightly house they encounter of their livestock. Nickelplate insisted that he just might, and then moved on to complain of other great affairs, such as sobriety ("If we work in a tavern, where is our ale?!") and loneliness ("Why do we pay good copper for farmgirls when there is a perfectly good species of cunt in the Unlucky Crab?!").

[Ethan Flatrivers]

Flex keeps track of where they head and chuckled at their banter. He'd heard it all in his years on the road, and didn't want to unnecessarily disrupt their conversation, almost undoubtedly one they had had a hundred times before. This was where having a plan would have been helpful, but in truth he had always preferred improvisation, in living in the moment. "You pay copper to farm girls? Next time you should demand they pay you for your services," he suggested offhandedly. "Curiosity is a woman's finest aphrodisiac." He wiggled his fingers in its familiar pattern momentarily. "What's a green dreamer or whatnot?" He asked. The ways of the Old Gods were near dead in the far south, and he'd certainly never heard the term.

[The Raven]

While Nickelplate quietly pondered his unrealized potential as a lothario, Butterball elaborated in a slow ponderous voice while squinting at the road ahead. "A greenseer. It is said that among the First Men, certain people are gifted by the Old Gods. They can survey the lives of others the way you and I would look out a window. Some can even slip into another person's skin and wear it like a piece of armor. You see, brother, Skinner Jon has that old blood in his veins. For years, he lived among the wildlings who still remember the old secrets, and had his skin marked by a witch after learning all she had to teach. Then he came south to guide us out of the hell of the past five years. The Red Eels are going to save the Riverlands from itself, brother, and we're going to do it guided by the Old Gods themselves."

After a moment of silence, Nickelplate added without any sense of timing, "What we really need are more bitches in this crew... Like the Dornish! I would definitely ride north during winter for some asshole if I had a randy one fighting beside me!"

[Ethan Flatrivers]

Messiah complexes were like assholes in times of war; everyone seemed to have one. Flex nodded seriously along with the obvious nonsense. "Well anything is better than what we got now," he allowed. "How far away is this Underhill anyway? I still don't know the area too well." He kept an eye out for lonely buildings; if he ever broke bad knowing where lone settlers were could be useful. "Hope Skinner Jon can assemble an army," he said, "but if he wants gold I think I may got a more...spiritually and erotically appealing plan."

43. Observation

[The Raven]

He spies a nearby mill, seemingly unused for years. The nearby house is missing most of its roof, and the nearby field is untended. Further down the road, Kyle can make out several riders approaching. Neither of his companions seem to notice them.

Nickelplate's ears visibly twitched at Flex's proposal. "And what grand caper do you suggest for our cabal?" He wasn't even using the same fake highborn accent as earlier. He had somehow traveled from Highgarden to Casterly Rock in the space of a few seconds.

[Ethan Flatrivers]

If this plan to destroy them failed, Flex had spent a bit thinking of a much more easy way to draw them out into the open. ""Gold is good," he said, "gold and girls is better. The lord has a sister who thinks she's like the fuckin' Dragon Knight." He smiled. "She thinks hunting people like us is a sport." He made the hand gestures of a practiced salesman; his fingertips going from touching to spreading out like he's mimicking the sun. "She has friends in the taverns around the town, so we put a bug in her ear about our nefarious doings and she won't be able to help herself. And she'll have some of the lord's best men with her. We split some of them off and it's easier doings."

[The Raven]

Butterball rolled his beady eyes at the plan. "Stuff and nonsense. What's to stop her from coming with too many men? Or with Belric himself? And what value is there in alarming them to our presence under Harrenhal's nose.... Unless...." He stopped to consider the idea further.

"Here it comes!" Nickelplate grinned in anticipation.

"Dacey Blackfort teaches an archery class to children every week. We grab her and the little ones. The people in Harrentown will hide and feed us themselves after that." He frowned, before pressing his nag ahead.

"Yes... I think that's the key, Flex. If we want gold and authority over over men and women, target the children." He began preparing his crossbow.

"You can have the kiddies. I want that minx myself..." Nickelplate's voice was now vintage Riverlands as he licked his lips. "Skinner Jon will reward us handsomely if we don't just ransom the lot ourselves. Rebellion is an expensive affair..."

[Ethan Flatrivers]

"Very expensive," he said. "But if you want real chaos, grabbing her and some children isn't enough. Few weeks ago there was a standoff over some village out west," he said. "We make it look like another lord's tryin' to piss in Belric's oats and we have ourselves a chance to really bleed these fuckers out. And," he grinned, "that means what we take, we keep, and no one will ever have to be the wiser. Skinner Jon'll only have to pick the carcasses as our enemies kill themselves."

[The Raven]

"Indeed! That was... Smallprick or something or other..." Hazarded Nickelplate.

"Smallwood." Nodded Butterball. "Another enemy of the people. But first these villains."

The Underhill caravan was close. Kyle spied four horses, one presumably bearing the tax money in those heavy bags. Behind it, to its right, and before it rode armed men, all wearing chainmail. They followed the pace of the first man, who seemed content to admire the countryside and twirl his moustache occasionally.

[Ethan Flatrivers]

"I'm surprised he can afford taxes with all of that wax," Flex said. He raised a hand. "Hail!" He said, "nice to see fellow travelers on such a winter's day." He doffed his cap. "Fortunately the Unlucky Crab has ale in small lakes and a fire to chase this snow away." He bowed his head. "I'm sure the hospitality will be to your liking."

[The Raven]

Ser Reggie's hand grasped his longsword's in the same time another man took to blink. He was a lousy landlord and a poor tax collector based on his reputation, but his speed showed his knighthood was well-deserved. Kyle could see the other two riders reaching for their weapons with far less finesse when they saw their master had halted his horse.

(Charm success. Four points awarded. Seriously suggest marking them down on your sheet.)

"Well..." The knight's hand relaxed after hearing their pitch. "It has been a lengthy trip."

"It has been three hours, my lord." Chided one of his men.

"Then we are making good time, are we not?!" Bellowed Underhill. He turned to Kyle. "Tell me, are you referring to the old Honeyspoon estate?"

[Ethan Flatrivers]

"I am," Flex said. "Plenty of ale and the like." He shrugged. "We wanted to extend the invitation personally. Glad we didn't have to go all the way to your home to make it!" He said jovially.