The journey through the Wolfswood was slow and brutal.
The ancient forest was a maze of grey trunks and white snow. The trees here were massive sentinels of ironwood and oak that blocked out the weak winter sun. The only sounds were the creaking of the wagon wheels and the heavy breathing of the horses.
Andar rode in silence.
He was running calculations in his mind. The distance to Winterfell was roughly three hundred miles. In this weather, with heavy wagons, they were making perhaps twenty miles a day. It would take them two weeks to arrive.
"My Lord."
Jory rode up beside him. The young captain of the Iron Squad looked uneasy. His eyes darted constantly to the dark tree line.
"The woods are too quiet," Jory whispered. "Usually there are crows. Or squirrels. Today nothing moves."
Andar nodded. "It means we are being watched."
He had expected this. The Wolfswood was vast and lawless. House Glover and House Stark tried to patrol it, but there were too many places to hide. Deserters from the Night Watch, starving peasants turned bandits, and wildlings who had climbed the Wall all made their homes here.
And a small caravan with only six guards looked like a fat sheep waiting for the slaughter.
"Keep the matches lit," Andar ordered quietly.
"Yes My Lord."
The men of the Iron Squad reached for the slow burning cords attached to their belts. They blew on the embers gently. The faint smell of burning hemp mixed with the pine scent of the forest.
They rode for another mile.
Suddenly the lead horse whinnied and reared up.
Thud.
A massive pine tree crashed down onto the road twenty paces in front of them, blocking the path completely. Snow exploded into the air.
"Halt!" Andar shouted.
Before the dust settled, figures emerged from the trees.
There were twenty of them.
They were a motley crew of filth and desperation. Some wore rusted chainmail. Some wore furs. Most held axes or jagged swords. They looked hungry and they looked cruel.
The leader was a big man with a broken nose. He wore a stolen breastplate that had the sigil of House Umber scratched off. He held a heavy bearded axe.
"Well now," the bandit leader grinned, revealing black rotting teeth. "What do we have here? A little lordling playing merchant?"
He stepped over the fallen tree. His men fanned out, surrounding the wagons.
"Get off the horses," the leader spat. "Leave the wagons. Leave your cloaks. And maybe we will let you run back to your castle naked."
The bandits laughed. It was a ugly sound.
Jory and the Iron Squad looked at Andar. Their hands were gripping their muskets tight. They were terrified. These were real killers, not wooden targets.
"Twenty men," Andar said calmly. He did not dismount. "Against six."
"I can count boy," the bandit leader sneered. "And I see you have no shields. You have no spears. Just some wooden clubs."
He pointed his axe at Andar.
"Last chance. Get down or I will peel the skin from your face and use it as a napkin."
Andar looked at the man with absolute indifference.
"Squad," Andar said softly. "Form line."
The five men of the Iron Squad dismounted instantly. They moved with the jerky unnatural precision of the drill. They stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the wagons.
"Load!"
The bandits paused. They watched in confusion as the soldiers bit the paper cartridges and rammed the rods down the barrels.
"What are they doing?" one bandit asked. "Are they eating paper?"
"They are mad," the leader laughed. "Kill them! Take the loot!"
"Charge!"
The twenty bandits roared and ran forward. They were thirty paces away. They were fast. They raised their axes, ready to hack the small squad to pieces.
The ground shook under their boots.
"Present!" Andar shouted.
The five muskets leveled. The dark eyes of the barrels stared at the charging mob.
The bandit leader did not stop. He raised his wooden shield. He thought he was safe. A shield could stop an arrow. It could stop a sword.
"Fire!"
BOOM!
The forest shook.
It was louder than the test in the courtyard. The sound echoed off the trees, amplifying into a deafening roar that sent snow tumbling from the branches above.
Five streaks of fire erupted from the smoke.
The bandit leader felt a hammer blow to his chest.
His wooden shield exploded. Splinters flew everywhere. The lead ball smashed through the oak, smashed through his stolen breastplate, and turned his heart into a red paste.
He did not even scream. He was dead before he hit the ground.
Beside him four other men fell.
One was spun around violently as a ball took his shoulder off. Another collapsed with a hole in his stomach the size of a fist.
The charge stopped instantly.
The remaining fifteen bandits froze. They looked at their dead leader. They looked at the smoke drifting from the strange metal tubes. They looked at the blood staining the snow.
The silence that followed was heavy and terrified.
"What... what was that?" a bandit whispered. "Thunder? They summon thunder?"
"Reload!" Andar ordered.
The Iron Squad did not celebrate. They did not panic. The drill took over. Their hands moved automatically.
Bite. Pour. Ram. Prime.
The metallic clicks of the locks echoed in the silence.
The bandits watched the black holes of the barrels rise again.
Panic broke them.
"Sorcery!" one screamed. "Run!"
They dropped their weapons. They turned and fled into the trees, tripping over themselves in the deep snow, screaming like children. They did not care about the loot. They only wanted to get away from the monsters who killed with noise.
"Hold fire," Andar said.
He did not want to waste powder on running backs.
The smoke cleared slowly.
Jory lowered his musket. His face was pale but his eyes were wide with shock. He looked at the dead bandit leader lying ten paces away.
"My Lord," Jory breathed. "He... he had a shield. And armor."
"Physics does not care about wood," Andar said coldly.
He dismounted and walked over to the corpse. He looked down at the shattered breastplate. It was a mess of gore and twisted metal.
This was the reality of the gunpowder age. The age of knights, the age of personal bravery, the age of expensive armor... it ended today in this snowy forest.
Andar looked up at his men.
They were looking at him differently now. Before, they respected him as a Lord. Now, they looked at him as if he were a god of war.
"Search the bodies," Andar ordered. "Take their coin. Take their boots if they are good. Leave the rest for the wolves."
He climbed back onto his horse.
"And clear the road. We have a King to meet."
[Combat Encounter Complete]
[Enemy: Forest Bandits]
[Result: Decisive Victory]
[Casualties: 0]
[Iron Squad Experience: +50]
[Trait Gained: Veteran Nerves]
The Iron Squad moved with new energy. They pushed the fallen tree aside as if it were a twig.
They were no longer afraid of the Wolfswood.
They touched their muskets lovingly. They knew now that as long as they had powder and lead, they were the masters of death.
The caravan rolled on. The wheels creaked. The snow fell.
But the silence of the forest had changed. It was no longer the silence of the hunter watching the prey.
It was the silence of fear. The North was about to wake up.
.....
Author Note
Hi guys! Thank you for reading my fanfiction.
I wanted to let you know that I'm releasing bonus chapters for Power Stones. Here are the goals:
25 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
50 Power Stones: 1 Bonus Chapters
75 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
100 Power Stones: 2 Bonus Chapters
Thanks for the support!