Life on the road agreed with Steve, now that he wasn’t pursuing his shield across an unfamiliar land. The easy pace and the casual discovery of this new land was doing wonders for him, easing a tension that had become the norm over five years of trying to hold a shattered world together.

He wasn’t the only one enjoying the new sense of freedom either. Naerys breathed easier than ever now that the burden of social expectation was lifted from her shoulders, no lordly cousin eyeing her like an asset to be used or a court judging her for the company she kept and how she kept it. She wore trousers more often than dresses, and had thrown herself into the training Steve offered with a will. She had been learning less than a month, but Steve already would have been happy to sign her up for basic SHIELD training.

Likewise, Robin was taking to his new life with something approaching glee. Apparently signing on with a noble was a bigger deal than Steve thought, because it had taken almost a week to get the kid to stop with the bows and the m’lords. When he did though, he fell right into the easy dynamic Steve and Naerys shared. He hadn’t been kidding about being handy with a bow either - in another world, Steve would have said he’d make a decent apprentice for Clint. The kid was also benefiting from the training Steve was giving them, although he liked to complain that if he couldn’t just shoot his enemy from afar something had clearly gone wrong.

The help and training wasn’t all one way, either. After they had washed and cooled down after a spar in the brisk spring evening, Naerys began to teach him his Westerosi letters, continuing the language lessons they’d had after leaving Sharp Point. The disdain of that maester had really stuck in his craw, and he wasn’t sure he was above repurposing some great work from his world just to stick it to the guy.

Their travel fell into an easy routine, one of shared chores, living off the land and their supplies, and martial training as Steve taught his companions to defend themselves and he got the hang of his new weapons, as well as his damaged shield. King’s Landing was two weeks behind them and the village of Brindlewood a few days ahead when their easy days were interrupted.

“Whoa Fury,” Steve said, pulling gently on the reins of his horse. A cart was ahead, stuck in a mire of black mud. For a road that was named after the King, it wasn’t exactly living up to its name. They came to a stop beside the other cart, a man and his young son looking up from where they were inspecting its wheel. “Are you alright there?” he asked.

“No,” the man said shortly, rubbing at a mud smeared cheek. “Wheel came off the axle as we were trying to get clear of this bog.”

Robin guided their cart around the bog, keeping to ground that had yet to be churned up by other travellers, and came to a stop just ahead. His eyes flicked around, sharp gaze piercing the shade of the woods that lined the road. He seemed perplexed when he failed to find anything.

“You need a hand?” Steve asked, leaning off his horse to inspect the damage.

The boy looked hopefully at the man who had to be his father, while the man eyed Steve and his companions.

“Suppose it couldn’t hurt,” he said, somewhat mistrustfully. “We need to lift the cart and get the wheel on. Between the three of us, me boy should manage.”

“Naerys, you have the horses?” Steve asked, dismounting easily. “Come on, Robin.”

Naerys whistled for Fury, and the white horse approached docilely, before she accepted the reins to cart from Robin as the kid hopped off it.

“If we get it from the back and side, we should manage,” the man said. He eyed Steve, the peasant garb he wore doing little to hide his muscle mass. “Maybe you take the corner.”

“I’ve got it,” Steve said, shaking his arms and shoulders out. “You two get the wheel ready,” he said to the man and Robin.

“She’s well stuck in there--” the man protested, salt and pepper brows furrowing as Steve stepped up. They shot straight back up as Steve crouched, set his back, and lifted the cart right out of the mud with a squelch.

“Bloody hell then,” the man muttered to himself. “Here, the wheel, quick--”

With a quick shuffle, the boy got out of the way for his father and Robin to manhandle the heavy wheel back into position on the cart. After some struggling, it was on, and the man hammered it further into place with a wooden mallet retrieved from his cart.

“All set?” Steve asked.

“Aye, that’ll do it,” the man said.

Steve set the cart down, and it immediately began to sink back into the mud. “Come on, let’s get it clear.” He moved to the back, taking up some of the weight of the cart again, Robin quickly joining him.

“San, take up the reins,” the man told his son, and joined Steve at the cart.

San took up the reins of the two donkeys hitched to the cart, and began guiding them forward. They hesitated at first, but when the weight they were expecting wasn’t there, trotted forward much more eagerly. It was the work of moments to get the cart clear of the bog, black mud coating Steve’s legs up to his shins and sticking between his toes, but then they were through, and back on solid ground.

“Whew,” the man said, wiping his brow. “You wouldn’t know how long we struggled with that. San does his best, but he’s still a bit young to do much there.”

“No trouble,” Steve said, offering his hand to shake. “We were happy to help.”

The man took his hand uncertainly, but did so nonetheless. “Adamm, at your service. I carry goods for Lords in these parts.” He seemed happy to get his hand back after the shake. “But as you can see I’ve got nothing on me at the moment,” he added hastily, gesturing to his mostly empty cart. “Who might you be?”

“Steve Rogers,” he said. “I’m a soldier, on my way to Harrenhal. This is Naerys Waters, and Robin Longstride, my companions.”

“Pleasure,” Adamm said politely. “I may be heading to the great tournament myself, gods willing.”

“You could join us if you’re headed that way,” Steve offered. “I haven’t seen any trouble on the road, but safety in numbers and all that.”

“Ah, thank you but no, I won’t be heading straight to Harrenhal,” Adamm said. “I have to see to my cart, make sure the wheel won’t come loose again.”

“Suit yourself,” Steve said. He got the feeling the man was trying to hurry him along without being rude about it. “Take care of yourself now.” He gave San a nod as the boy stared at him, mouth slightly agape.

“Good deed done?” Naerys asked, handing Fury’s reins back to him.

Robin was already back in the cart, ready to go. He had obtained a stick and was scraping mud from his legs, nose screwed up in distaste.

“For today, anyway,” Steve said. He tapped his heels to Fury’s flanks, nudging him into a trot. In short order, they had left the father and son behind.

“I hate mud,” Robin said as he got the worst of it off. “Why would you ever leave a city.”

“I thought you wanted to see the world?” Naerys said teasingly.

“The world, not all the mud in it,” Robin shot back. “I see why nobles ride around in carriages all the time. This is just awful. Eughk.”

Steve laughed, remembering some of the messes he’d gotten into over the years. “Talk to me again when you’ve got mud up to your eyebrows for five hours because you’re waiting to ambush a patrol.”

Robin shuddered. “I’d rather not. I see now why my father moved to King’s Landing. It was to avoid ever having to deal with black mud again.”

“There’s no mud in the city?” Steve asked.

“Not like this,” Robin said. “As soon as I win the ten thousand dragons at Harrenhal I’m buying a manse and staying there.”

“Mmhmm,” Naerys said. “Keep telling yourself that.”

“You were a little on edge when we first pulled up,” Steve said to Robin, cutting off further banter. “Were you expecting an ambush?”

Robin scratched at his ear. “Yes, honestly. I’ve seen it enough back home. Scream for help in an alley, some fool goes to help, and they get cracked over the head and their pockets rifled through.”

“Huh,” Steve said, considering. “Well, good luck to anyone trying to ambush us.”

Robin gave him a strange look, but Naerys just smiled.

“You still need to let me arrange for a wrestling contest at the next tavern we come to,” Naerys said. “There is coin to be made.”

Robin’s eyes lit up. “Hey, yeah. The way you lifted that cart, and swung that hammer…”

“You know, I’ve really been enjoying sleeping outdoors lately,” Steve said.

They continued on their way, keeping each other entertained with friendly teasing and ideas to get rich. Harrenhal grew closer.

X x X

It was early afternoon a couple of days later when their travels were interrupted again. The sight of a village ahead as they crested a rolling hill caused Steve to consider their plans, and call back to his companions.

“How’s the food situation, Robin?” Steve asked. He knew, and he knew Naerys knew, but he wanted to test the kid.

Robin glanced at Naerys, before turning to double check the cart he was driving.. “Uh...good, I think? We’ll make it to Harrenhal without starving if we keep living off the land, but if we want to eat as well as we have been we’ll need more.”

“We’ll stop in at the village then,” Steve said. It wouldn’t take them long, and he wasn’t going to ration when he didn’t have to.

“You’ll have to be careful which nobles you accept an invitation from,” Naerys said. “You’ll eat them out of hearth and home.”

“I just have a healthy appetite is all,” Steve said.

“Healthy enough that the mules were getting nervous that day we couldn’t find any game,” Robin said. “I saw the way you eyed them.”

“And I remember when you were too shy to cheek me,” Steve said. Despite his words, he was grinning. “It was a simpler time. A better time.”

Robin rolled his eyes, now well used to Steve’s strange sense of humour. “Yes m’lord, sorry m’lord, won’t happen again m’lord.”

“Careful Robin,” Naerys said. “You never know with these noble types; he might have you whipped.”

Their banter continued as they approached Brindlewood. The village was a small one, set just off the Kingsroad. It could almost be called quaint, but for the traffic that it saw pass by on what passed for a highway in Westeros. That, and the poor materials the houses were made from, the muddy streets, and the smell of shit. Steve didn’t remember the big cities back home being so bad, with all their pollution. Maybe he had just gotten used to it.

As they passed through the village, they got a few looks from the locals, but none approached them. They came to a stop in what passed for the village square.

“Naerys, take Robin and find what we need,” Steve said. “I’ll keep an eye on our stuff.” He tossed his coin pouch to her. “We’re about halfway to Harrenhal if we keep at our pace.”

Seeing the pouch Steve had thrown, Robin double checked his knife at the small of his back.

They left in short order, making for what looked like a merchant’s shop across the way, and Steve settled in to wait, watching the village. It was a slow place, quiet, but not without activity. Children ran through the streets, women carried laundry and herded livestock, and the few men to be seen seemed to have somewhere to be. It was the kind of place that Bruce would have liked to stop and wait in for a while, and would have driven Tony mad - stark mad, even - with boredom.

The serenity was not to last. A raised voice drew his attention, and he saw a figure in basic armour standing before what looked like a village headman. The armed and armoured figure wasn’t the one yelling though. They kept their calm in the face of the headman’s almost shouting, responding too quietly for Steve to hear. He glanced about. No one had paid undue attention to the cart of the horses. He could busybody a little. He dismounted, tieing Fury to the cart beside Swiftstride, and drifted closer to the argument.

“...did the job,” the armoured figure said. Their voice was even, but not harsh. “So now you pay me for it.”

“You’ve got no proof,” the headman said, scowling through an untidy grey fringe. “How do I know you didn’t just go camp out in tha woods a few nights?”

“Would you like me to show you where I buried them?” the soldier? hedge knight? Asked.

“Might not be all of them,” the old man argued. “You coulda missed some.”

“You said there were four. I killed five. You owe me fifty silver stags.”

Steve decided to wait and see. The soldier was keeping their cool, and the headman looked like he’d break a bone if he took a swing.

“I don’t owe you anything,” the headman said. “I bet yer not even a real knight!”

The soldier took a deep breath. “What I am is unimportant. I told you when I took this job that my time was limited. You said nothing about requiring proof. Is my word not enough?”

The headman must have scented blood, because he grinned, showing off all five of his crooked teeth. “Yer no noble. Just a boy who came across some armour on a corpse and prettied it up all nice like.”

He must have been close, because Steve could see the hedge knight’s shoulders go tense under his chainmail. “Fine,” he said, tone unchanged.

The headman crowed. “Gotta get up earlier in the day to get past me sonny!”

“I will fetch the corpses, and deliver them to your front step, so that you may see the proof for yourself,” he said. “What you do with them after that is up to you.” They turned to stride away, and found themselves almost face to face with Steve.

The headman was protesting behind them, but they were ignored in favour of Steve. “Can I be of assistance?” the knight asked. Brown hair hung messily about their ears, pressed upon by a now absent helmet, and green eyes watched him sternly.

“Actually, maybe,” Steve said, an idea occurring to him. “I overheard your conversation, and thought maybe we could help each other out.”

The man blinked, expression not changing. “How so?”

“I’ve a horse and a cart,” Steve said, “but I don’t know my way around this country. I could help you with your corpses, and in return you help me and my friends make it to Harrenhal, if you’re headed that way.”

A glimmer of interest appeared in their eyes. “I am making for Harrenhal,” he said. There was a refined note to his voice that Steve was coming to recognise as belonging to the nobility here that belied the poor quality of his armour. “But I am not alone. I have...a squire, you might call him.”

“You’re a hedge knight then?” Steve asked.

“No,” he said, shaking his head sharply. “But one day I hope to be.”

“I don’t see a problem,” Steve said. “What’s going on with that guy anyway?” he nodded towards the old headman who had retreated, grumbling to himself.

“He promised me silver for clearing out bandits that were preying on travellers,” he said. “I did so, and now he refuses to pay.”

“Low of him,” Steve said.

The man grunted, a frustrated sound that almost seemed to escape them against their will. He coughed. “Yes. Toby and I needed the coin just to make it to Harrenhal, let alone participate.”

“What did you have your eye on?” Steve asked. He turned to make his way back to the horses and cart, silently inviting the man to join him.

“The joust,” he admitted. “I am passable with the sword and decent with the glaive, but the lance is where the money is to be made.”

“I’m for the melee myself,” Steve said. “Never jousted before in my life, so I’ll have to settle for the fifteen thousand.”

The man smiled at what they took to be a joke. “Might I have the pleasure of your name?”

The question was practised, adding a point in Steve’s mind to the ‘might be a noble’ column. He was still unsure about announcing his ‘nobility’ to all and sundry, but this warrior might end up travelling with them for a few weeks, and maybe beyond.

“Steve Rogers, from the land of America,” Steve said. At the man’s puzzled look, he added, “its shores are far from here.”

“Ah. I am Kedry, a sellsword,” he said, the word almost seeming to pain him. “I hope to change that at Harrenhal.”

“Will you be able to join the lists?” Steve asked. “I heard something about them being limited.”

“I do not know, but if I do not go I never will,” Kedry said. “And like you said, I can always just join the melee and win the fifteen thousan there.”

Steve smiled. “That’s the spirit,” he said. “Where did you bury these bodies?”

“Bodies? Did you kill someone while we were gone?”

Robin and Naerys had returned, and the kid was looking between Steve and Kedry, waiting for an answer.

“Not yet,” Steve said. “It’s been a slow day. Kedry, this is Naerys Waters and Robin Longstride, my companions. Guys, this is Kedry, a sellsword who might be able to guide us to Harrenhal.”

Kedry gave a stiff half bow, Naerys mimed a curtsey in her trousers and Robin waved.

“I buried the bandits perhaps two hours ride north, just off the path,” Kedry said.

“Why do we need bandit corpses,” Robin asked, brow furrowed.

“Kedry took a job, but--” Steve was interrupted by a flurry of hoofbeats beating down the street towards them. He turned in time to see three horses come to a stop before him, nearly in synch.

Two of the horses were riderless, and on the third was a young boy, clad in rough spun wool. “Well?” the boy demanded. “Did the fucker stiff you or what?”

“Toby,” Kedry said, voice stern. “What have I told you about swearing.” It was not a question.

The boy, Toby, answered anyway. “Not to,” he said, unbothered. His almost violently blond hair looked like it had been cut with a knife, and he had blue eyes. “So? Did he?”

Kedry sighed. “He is trying to.”

“I told you,” Toby said. “Shoulda just did like I said to and shanked him with your pigstick--”

“Tobias!” Kedry’s voice demanded obedience and the boy immediately fell silent. “Toby. We can’t stab everyone who we think might seek to cheat us,” he explained, softer now. He had a very gentle voice, Steve noticed. “Even if they often do try,” he ended wryly.

Toby grumbled, but accepted his words. “Who’re this lot then?”

“This is Toby, my ward,” Kedry said, in a tone that spoke of long suffering. “Toby, this is Steve Rogers, Naerys Waters, and Robin Longstride,” he said. “Steve offered his cart in helping us bring the bandit corpses back as proof.”

“But that’ll take most o’ the day,” Toby complained. He pointed at Steve. “He looks like a noble. Why can’t he just tell the fu-prick to pay you?”

“Not a shy boy, is he,” Naerys said. She sounded amused.

“I rescued him from the mountain clans in the Vale,” Kedry said. “That was the easy part.”

“We don’t have all that many days to spare,” Robin said. “Getting the bodies and bringing them back will take the rest of the day, especially if we need the cart for them.”

Steve folded his arms, considering.

“We don’t have many to spare,” Steve said, “but we do have them.”

“Thank you,” Kedry said. “Of late, our funds have been...thin.”

“Steve is a generous sort,” Naerys said. She was eyeing Kedry with a complicated expression. “Sometimes overly so.”

“Yeah,” Robin said from where he was stroking the neck of one of Kedry’s horses. “He’s been putting up with Naerys for months now.”

Naerys narrowed her eyes at the kid, but he just replied with a cheeky grin. “And whose turn was it to cook tonight?” she asked, faux demurely.

Robin’s grin faltered, but he pressed on. “The best cook’s?”

“Hmm.”

Kedry seemed content to watch the back and forth, the same calm expression on his face, but Steve brought things back on track with an eye to the afternoon sun.

“How do we want to do this?” he asked. “Kedry has to go, and we need a way to bring the bodies back.”

“We could load them all into the cart, but that’d mean emptying it out first,” Robin said.

“Or we could throw them over the back of the horses,” Naerys suggested. They had five horses between them, but Kedry at least would need to ride one to show the way, even if Steve didn’t need one to keep up.

“Kedry and I will go, and we’ll take the horses,” Steve decided. He looked to the sellsword. “If you don’t have a problem with that?”

“Five bodies between three horses might be pushing it,” Kedry said, “but it’s better than five between two, and I’ll be happy for the help.”

“I’m comin’ too,” Toby said stubbornly, although he seemed to know it was a futile gesture. “I can ride behind you.”

“You’ll stay here with - Naerys and Robin,” Kedry said, faltering slightly as if he’d been about to say something else. “On your best behaviour,” he added sternly.

Toby grumbled, but it seemed mostly for show.

Quickly, Steve and Kedry gathered what gear they needed, and rearranged the loads on the horses as necessary. Robin made to help Kedry as he shifted his saddle bags off one of the horses, but was persuaded against it when the horse snapped with its teeth, almost catching his ear.

“Alright alright, calm down now,” Robin said to the horse.

“Redbloom isn’t the friendliest of horses,” Kedry said. The horse whickered in bad tempered agreement. “He only lets me and Toby close.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Robin said, accepting the saddle bag from him and taking it over to the cart. Toby watched him suspiciously, even as he whispered something to the horses.

Steve considered donning his suit, but decided against it. He was hardly going into battle, and if they did get into trouble, that was what his shield was for. He retrieved it from the cart, strapping it on securely, and he was ready. He turned, in time to see Kedry pull what he had thought was a spear from its holster on one of the better natured horses, but it was different. The blade was curved, and considerably larger than the typical spear head.

“Is that a glaive?” Steve asked. “I haven’t seen one before.”

“Yes,” Kedry answered. “Good steel, and good swords, are expensive. Also....my parents taught me to use this.”

“Your parents?” Steve asked, interested. “Your mother and your father?” His interest was roused. Women warriors were unseen to him so far in Westeros.

“They spent time in Yi-Ti before I was born,” Kedry gave a non-answer. He took the glaive in one hand, holding it outstretched without a hint of a waver. “Women are expected to defend themselves there.”

Steve nodded approvingly. At least one country here seemed to have its head on straight. “Well, we ready to go?”

Kedry mounted Redbloom in one smooth motion, born from years of practice. “Ready when you are.”

Steve swung up onto Fury, giving a nod to Naerys and Robin. “Try to keep the kid occupied,” he said. “I don’t want to come back to find the headman had an accident.”

Toby growled, but whether it was directed at Steve or the headman no one could tell.

“See you in a few hours,” Naerys said. “Are we going to stay the night in the village, or make what progress we can after you return?”

“If we return in time, we’ll set out before dark,” Steve said. “No point wasting daylight if we have it.”

“We’ll prepare for your return then,” Naerys said.

Dallying no further, Steve touched his heels to Fury’s sides and they were off, Kedry and Redbloom right behind them. The headman scowled at them as they rode from the village.

They made good time as they galloped north, and Steve appreciated the speed; he hadn’t had the chance to really set Fury loose since getting him, and the destrier was eager to show off. Whoever had owned him before losing him to the Kingswood Brotherhood had had a good eye for horses.

Redbloom wasn’t having any trouble keeping up, despite his greater size. He was a solid beast, seemingly built for war, and his bad temper reminded Steve of Colonel Phillips. Swiftstride and Kedry’s two other horses were following obediently in their wake, something that seemed slightly off to Steve, but then he really didn’t know much about horses, and he shrugged it off.

Time seemed to stretch as they settled into an easy pace that ate up the miles beneath them, much as it always did when journeying to an unknown destination. Kedry’s whistle took Steve off guard an hour and a half later as they rounded a bend in the path. They had arrived.

It was a good spot for an ambush. The bend and some nearby trees provided cover for any who might wish to lie in wait for unwary travelers, and a rise in the ground on the other side made it difficult for them to flee that way.

Steve swung off Fury and stroked his neck as he looked around. “This is where you buried them?” he asked. Fought them too, by the looks of it. He could see earth churned by hoofprints and a splash of blood here and there, as well as what might have been the shattered remains of a lance.

“Just within the treeline,” Kedry said. He dismounted, and checked over his mount, before leading all four horses towards the trees.

Steve followed. “How’d you find them?” As they walked, a mass of scarring on Redbloom’s flanks caught his eye, near where a rider would touch to spur a horse on. The wounds were old, and he noticed that Kedry wore no spurs.

“I took the job yesterday, and made sure it was known around the village that I would be heading this way. They were waiting for me,” Kedry said.

“Clever,” Steve said. He slipped his shield off his arm and slipped it into one of Fury’s saddlebags.

“It was a risk that paid off,” Kedry said, shrugging. “Here we are.”

The graves weren’t terribly deep, and earth had been piled on top of them. Five of them, all in a row. The two living stood next to one another and took them in for a long moment. Five mounds of dirt was all that remained of these people who had been born, been loved, grown up, and made the wrong decisions.

“Five on one isn’t something to sneeze at,” Steve said, glancing at Kedry. “Especially in armour like that.”

“You work with what you have,” the man said. His tone was almost melancholy.

Steve thought back to his early days, relying on a body that seemed to betray him at every turn. “I know what you mean.”

Kedry’s gaze flicked over to him. “You are not a noble, then? You’re certainly not one of the smallfolk.”

“I was born common, but gained status through my achievements,” Steve said.

“Like a landed knight, given title for great deeds or service,” Kedry said.

“I think so,” Steve said. “The way things were back home are very different to here.”

“Interesting,” Kedry said, but he made no further comment.

“Well,” Steve said, taking up the shovel they’d brought. “Let’s get this done.”

Steve began digging carefully, and Kedry prepared some rope they’d brought. It wasn’t pleasant work, but it was what they’d come to do. As each corpse was uncovered, they set the body aside and Steve would move on to the next while Kedry prepped it to be loaded onto a horse, tieing limbs together so as to avoid flailing and shifting as they rode. The third body they unearthed made Steve pause.

“That’s some wound,” he said, eyeing the gaping hole in the man’s chest.

“Lance,” Kedry said, glancing at it. “He was the first I killed here.”

“I thought lances were expensive,” Steve said.

“Not if you don’t need a metal tip, and know how to carve them yourself,” Kedry replied.

“Is that normal for a hedge - sorry, a sellsword to do?” Steve asked.

Kedry’s mouth quirked in something that could almost be called the start of a smile. “No. My - one of my trainers insisted I learn.”

Steve gave a hum in answer. He was starting to get the feeling that Kedry was being careful with his choice of words.

He decided to leave him be. They’d only met bare hours ago, after all.

Eventually, the bodies were exhumed and ready to be put across the horses. They set about it, eager to be gone.

“Is there a reason you didn’t want to just take their heads?” Steve asked. “A taboo?”

“I do not wish to desecrate the bodies of the dead, regardless of what they were in life,” Kedry said. They looked uncomfortable, but their tone was resolute, as if they were expecting an argument.

But Steve was nodding. “I can appreciate that. Don’t think many here would; life seems real cheap here.”

“It may be to some, but not to me,” Kedry said, pensive.

The last body was all that remained, one tied to each free horse and one behind the saddle on Redbloom. Fury was still free, but might be slowed by bearing both Steve and a corpse. The obvious answer was to put the body on one of the horses already carrying a corpse, but there was another option.

Steve took a deep breath, shaking out his limbs. Fury had had his chance to run, and now it was his turn. He hoisted the last corpse over the saddle and began to tie it in place.

Kedry was watching him with a questioning gaze. He stayed quiet, but his query was clear.

“Think I’ll jog back to the village,” Steve said, “clear my lungs.”

“We do plan to get back before nightfall,” Kedry said.

“What, you don’t think you can keep up?” Steve asked.

A single eyebrow raised in response, but Kedry made no verbal response. Instead he just murmured something to Redbloom, and the destrier broke out into a trot that swiftly became an easy run. The other horses followed without an apparent command, and Steve began to pace them.

The first twenty minutes saw Steve keep pace easily, and at the end Kedry began to look to him as if waiting for a break to be called. The next twenty minutes saw him disabused of this notion, and the twenty after that saw him begin to look at him with something close to disbelief. Through it all, Steve’s breath remained steady and deep. At the start of the second hour of travel, he grew tired of catching droplets of mud from the horses’ hooves, and moved to overtake them.

“On your left,” he said, smiling at the private joke. Cutting loose on the run was good, but it wasn’t enough. Harrenhal couldn’t come fast enough.

X x X

Their return to the village, corpses in tow, did not go unremarked. Steve’s keen eyes caught sight of a flash of blond darting back into the village as it came into his sight, no doubt Toby gone to alert the others. In no time at all, they were back in what passed for the centre of the village, the headman responsible for the entire errand watching them from his home, chewing on a nail.

Naerys and Robin were waiting on the cart to the side of the village centre, the kid perched atop it, watching the scene unfold. Toby emerged from a side street and went straight to the horses, talking to them as he checked them over. He even spared some time for Fury and Swiftstride, which the horses seemed to appreciate.

“Five bandits, just as I told you,” Kedry called to the headman. A small crowd was gathering, coming out to see the strangers who were bringing bodies into their village. “Now you owe me fifty silver stags, as we agreed.”

“That’s not - they could be anyone,” the headman said, still stubborn.

“They were bandits,” Kedry said. His voice was stone, and so was his face.

“If you made an agreement,” Steve said, “then you should honour it.”

The headman’s eyes flicked over Steve, and then his horse, before coming to a rest on his shield. He sagged. “Fine. You’ll get yer silver.” He disappeared back within his house.

Steve glanced at the villagers in small clusters around them, watching from afar. They seemed more interested than anything, not upset or riled up. “Do you know why he’s so against paying?” he asked Kedry quietly.

Kedry gave a slight shrug. “Doesn’t want to part with the money, I’d guess. He doesn’t seem like he doesn’t have it at all.”

Steve gave a hmm in response, but continued to eye the village around them. More villagers were coming to observe in ones and twos, and his gut was telling him there was more to this. “Let’s get the bodies down.”

“Aye,” Kedry said. “I expect you to bury these men with respect,” he called out to the gathered villagers. His voice was projecting almost as well as some sergeants Steve had come across. “I didn’t bury them in the first place for my own sake.”

There were some muttered comments from the watchers, but no disagreement. Steve and Kedry began to take the bodies from the horses, laying them in the village centre. They did their best to lay them in a place that was less muddy than the rest. As they were laying the last body down, the headman reemerged, a pouch in hand. He began to toss it to Kedry, only to freeze as he saw the bodies.

Steve followed his gaze, and saw it fixed on one in particular. “You knew him, didn’t you,” Steve said quietly.

The headman’s gaze jerked to him. His mouth moved soundlessly, and he threw the pouch at Kedry. “Take yer silver, and get outta my village,” he said.

“It wasn’t that you didn’t want to pay,” Kedry said slowly. “It was because you realised who they were.”

Steve narrowed his eyes at the headman. “Where do you recognise them from?” he demanded, and his words carried.

“No, I didn’t,” the old man said quickly, raggedly. “They’re not one of us - we never -”

“Did you think there were four of them from survivors, or because you were in on it?” Kedry demanded, his tone suspicious, nearly paranoid.

Steve looked from the headman to the bodies lined before him, searching for any family resemblance, but found none. “Are they part of a larger group?”

The watching villagers had drawn closer now, close enough to see and hear and be involved.

“None of our village would attack a noble,” the headman said, almost pleading. “They’re not from round ‘ere, please m’lor -”

“That’s the old miller’s son,” a voice declared, pointing at a corpse and sounding outraged.

“They kill the miller’s boy?”

“They said they was hunting bandits.”

“Always knew he was a rotten sort.”

“They killin’ us and callin’ us bandits!”

The cries came from all around, mixed and confused. Steve was suddenly aware of how surrounded they were, and the potential for this to turn ugly. His shield was within arm’s reach, but this didn’t have to end in violence.

“Do you make a habit of ambushing passing travelers?” Steve boomed, instantly silencing the building furor. “Who here claims to know these men? Step forward and be held accountable.”

Many were cowed, and the headman flinched back.

“That’s - that’s the miller’s son, m’lord,” one man stepped forward and said. “He died early in the winter, the miller that is. But we don’t know the rest.”

“And he was cut down after he ambushed a traveler on the road,” Steve said, voice loud and clear. “Are we to believe this village was unaware?”

“No!” the headman shouted, finding his voice once more. “No one knew. He’s been living apart for months. We weren’t involved, none of us.”

“Yet you knew something, and refused to pay what we agreed,” Kedry said. “You knew.” It was a condemnation.

“Only last eve, I swear m’lord,” the headman said desperately. “When he snuck out of town, and - the miller was my cousin’s boy, I couldn’t pay for that, I just couldn’t.”

The miller’s boy was working with the bandits, Steve realised, helping them pick their targets. He was the one who carried word to them that Kedry was on his way to collect the bounty on them, and how they knew to be waiting in ambush for him. Four bandits and their lookout, but was that all? Steve looked around at the crowd, no longer at risk of turning into a mob. Their words had the ring of fearful truth, but could he take them at it? They likely wouldn’t even be privy to details on the bandits if the miller’s son was the only local member.

It would have to do regardless, Steve realised. Even if there were more collaborators standing before him, this wasn’t his home where he had the authority, real and recognised, to dispense justice and uphold the law. He would have to trust in his gut, take them at their word, and move on.

He took in the faces of those around him. Their heads were bowed, and none would meet his eyes. They weren’t angry that one of their own might have been killed, or shamed that he was a bandit - they feared that they’d be blamed for his actions. They feared that he would take it out on the village because he was a noble. He glanced at the headman. The elder was watching him like a drowning man might someone about to throw a lifeline.

“I can’t speak for Kedry,” Steve started, moderating his voice, “but there’s no shame in feeling an attachment to family, even if they...go astray.”

Kedry shot him an indecipherable stare, but only for a moment. “His choices were his own,” he said. “I will not hold them against the village.”

A sigh of relief seemed to pass through the buildings like a breeze, as if a descending blade had been lifted.

“We should be going,” Steve said quietly to Kedry.

The man nodded, tucking away the coin purse he’d been given and guiding his horse over to the cart, Toby almost in his shadow. Naerys and Robin were waiting tensely, and Steve noticed that their weapons were close to hand. Quickly, they rearranged their possessions in the cart and prepared the horses. While the crowd was still distracted by the five corpses and discussing what had happened, they made good their departure, leaving the village behind under the afternoon sun. For such a small place, it sure had its share of happenings.

X x X

They made camp a few hours’ ride north of Brindlewood that night, although not so far as the point Steve and Kedry had retrieved the bodies from. As dusk fell, they chose an open field to settle down in for the eve, some distance from the road and with no cover for anyone to sneak up on them. They would be exposed in turn, but the gathering grey clouds promised poor visibility for anyone seeking them.

As Steve and Naerys began to pull their somewhat luxurious tent from the cart, he noticed that the tent that Kedry was retrieving was somewhat smaller. It looked more suitable for two children or one man than a man and a boy. Robin and Toby had gone to hunt some game to add to their dinner, and Steve approached Kedry.

“We’ve got some room in our tent,” Steve offered. “It’s meant to be divided into separate rooms, so you wouldn’t be intruding.”

Kedry paused for a moment. “Thank you, but our tent will suffice,” he said. “It is not as bad as it looks, truly, and there is room enough for both our bedrolls.”

Steve eyed the tent. “If you say so.” Was he judging a man by the bells and whistles of his home? Had Tony rubbed off on him?

“The size of it is good for warmth, if nothing else,” Kedry said.

Steve returned his focus to his own tent, although by the size of it, it could almost be called a pavilion. He glanced back at KEdry; the armour he wore was basic even to his eye, old and in need of replacement. Despite this, it was meticulously maintained, as were his weapons. Taken with his refined accent, Steve would bet that there was more to the man than met the eye. But that was a thought for another time, after they’d wrestled this tent into shape. Kedry finished his quickly, and then joined them in their efforts. By the time Robin and Toby returned with a brace of rabbits between them, they were done.

Dinner was a quiet but companionable affair, the excitement of the day leaving the newly expanded group more comfortable with each other than they otherwise might have been. Sharing their food with Kedry and Toby made for a good impression too, the two of them admitting to stretching their funds out however they could over the last months.

The fire burned merrily as they talked and got to know each other, and all that was missing was perhaps a drink to nurse with it.

“You’ve got your horses trained very well,” Steve said, some time after they’d finished eating and dealt with their plates.

“Toby has a gift,” Kedry said smoothly.

“Mountain clan, ya know,” Toby said.

“I’m afraid I don’t,” Steve said. “I’m not quite from around here.”

Kedry and Toby traded looks.

“Er...that’s just how mountain clansmen are. Good with animals,” Toby said.

If Steve had a mug to drink from, he’d be giving them a look over it. As it was, he settled for side eyeing them. That exchange had the ring of practice about it.

Still, they’d only met today, and he’d already decided not to interrogate or question them. If the two of them decided to stick with them past Harrenhal, then they could think about sharing secrets. It couldn’t be anything too dramatic. Maybe they’d stolen or won a prize horse.

Perhaps sensing the slight awkwardness, Naerys chimed in with a teasing lilt to her voice. “It has been a while since we’ve shared a campfire like this, Steve,” she said. “Perhaps it’s time for you to grace us once more.”

Robin, as the third of an unknown number of children, appeared to have a keen ear for friendly mockery. “What’s this?” he asked.

Steve realised where she was going, and held back a groan.

“Steve has a wonderful singing voice,” Naerys said. Her face and tone were innocent, but her eyes were full of mischief.

“That sounds like a great idea,” Robin said, immediately catching on. “I haven’t had the joy yet, and neither have our new friends.” He was grinning.

“You sing, Lord Steve?” Kedry said, sounding interested. “My grandmother saw that I had lessons when I was young, but it - was not a talent.” Next to him, Toby was smirking, having twigged to the reality of the suggestion immediately.

“How about you sing this time Naerys, given I went last time,” Steve said. “Or you Robin. We could take turns,” he said, not quite desperate.

“You don’t want me to sing,” Robin said seriously.

“I only know sad songs,” Naerys claimed.

“No,” Toby said, before Steve had even finished turning to him.

Kedry simply watched him, green eyes holding nothing but polite anticipation.

Steve let out a great sigh. “Remember, you asked for this.” He cleared his throat.

“Amazing grace, How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now I am found,

Was blind, but now I see…”

He hoped his on the spot translation was doing it justice. Maybe next time he’d choose a song with a little less history behind it. Still, his audience didn't seem to be complaining.

X x X

It was the horses that warned them, a screaming whinny jolting Steve from his sleep. The horse screamed again, not in pain, but almost in warning, and he was rolling out of his bedroll before he thought about it. He strode from the sectioned off tent, slowing only to pick up his shield, and then he was outside. Behind him, Robin and Naerys were stirring in their own ‘rooms’. Cold air raised goosebumps on his bare chest.

It was still dark outside, the moon obscured by the clouds, and he couldn’t see what was disturbing the animals. From the smaller tent next to them, he could see Toby sticking his head out.

“Ke- Kedry’s on watch still,” the boy said. He scampered out of the tent in an overlong tunic, heading for the horses.

Robin emerged behind Steve, blinking bleary eyes and wearing only trousers like Steve, his bow in his hands. “What is it?”

Kedry loomed out of the darkness, blood on his glaive. “Trouble,” he said. “Those bandits had friends.”

The horses calmed, but the quietness was one of anticipation. Steve closed his eyes, straining to hear. The breathing of those near him, the shuffling of the horses and Toby reassuring and thanking them, Naerys taking up her short sword and joining them outside; whatever he might have heard was buried by it all.

“There,” Robin said, pointing towards the road some distance off.

Torches could be seen, and more were being lit. Six, eight, eleven, twelve. They clustered for a moment, and then began to approach as a group. The flare of the flames were too much to make out details.

“They must have heard me deal with their scout,” Kedry said.

Steve frowned, even as Robin plucked at his bowstring and Naerys kept readjusting her grip on her sword. Was this a feint, a distraction, or just a rabble trusting in their numbers? It was time to make a decision, and give orders.

“Watch for an ambush,” Steve commanded. “Kedry, Naerys, watch our rear. Robin, shoot anyone who tries to come at us from the side.” He almost ordered Toby to be ready to flee with the horses for his own safety, but he was keeping them calm, and they were clustered around him protectively, hiding him from view. “I’ll take this group on.”

The others voiced their assent, Robin jumping up onto the cart for what elevation he could get. Steve hefted his shield, the weight of it still feeling slightly off even after the weeks he’d had to get used to it. He waited for the torch bearers to grow closer, and then he broke out into a jog towards them.

Maybe they had agreed to charge once they crossed half the field, or maybe they caught sight of him, but the bandits let out a feral yell and broke into a run. Steve’s vision narrowed, and all he could hear was his breath in his ears. These men had come to kill him and his, and for that, they would die.

He crashed into them, leading with his shield, and two men died inside two heartbeats, throats cut by the jagged edge of his weapon. But something was wrong. He wasn’t facing twelve men each bearing a torch, he was facing six, each holding two. One of them lashed out - flailed, really - with their torches, but Steve had already crashed through them and past their reach. The bandits turned, now between him and the camp. Past the glare of the flame, he could see a figure with a pole arm setting about three foes, while what must be Naerys fought three more. One of those fell without a sound, their head jerking back suddenly. A horse charged towards what must be Kedry.

Steve took it all in within a moment, lashing out with his boot at a bandit that turned for him and got a little too close. He felt ribs crack under his blow, and the man collapsed with a cry. Three left.

They could handle themselves. He would deal with the three left here, and then join them.

One bandit dropped a torch, and lunged with a long knife, seeking Steve’s unprotected chest, only to find his arm seized in an unyielding grip. Steve spun, bringing the man with him by the arm and hurling him at another bandit. He felt the arm crack and dislocate with the force, and his target went down with him in a pile of limbs. The final bandit gave a bellow and made a desperate charge, only for Steve to slam the blunt edge of his shield into the bridge of his nose. He collapsed like a puppet with its strings cut.

A scream came from the camp - a woman’s voice. Steve broke into a sprint, covering the distance to the other fight in seconds. Kedry was holding two foes off with his glaive, before Redbloom charged out of the darkness and killed one with a single kick to the head.

Naerys was being driven back by her remaining foe, a gash across her sword arm, and the man was being careful to keep her between him and Robin. Her shortsword was dark with blood.

Steve entered the fight with sudden and crushing violence, seizing Naerys’ foe by the neck and shaking him until it snapped, before taking his blade and hurling it at Kedry’s last foe, sinking it deep into his back. The bandit gave out a keening cry and stumbled, and Kedry took his head off with a single blow.

The silence was sudden, broken only by Naerys’ stifled sounds of pain as she clutched her arm.

“Headcount, sound off,” Steve demanded.

There was a brief moment of hesitation, before they understood his order.

“Good,” Kedry said, holding his side. There was no blood, so Steve put it aside for now.

“Good,” Robin said from the cart. His voice was strained, but he seemed uninjured.

“I’m alive!” Toby’s voice came from where he was still surrounded by the horses, save for Redbloom, who was stamping on the downed bandits. It wasn’t pretty.

“Naerys, can you move your fingers?” Steve asked, striding over to her. Slowly, he guided her down into a sitting position.

“Yes, it’s not deep, I think,” she said, wincing as she cradled her arm. “I got him, right in the throat, but then I was too open, and the other one -” she was starting to ramble.

“Hey, this was your first real fight, and you did good,” Steve said. “You’re alive. You won.” He looked around, taking in their camp. It was trampled from the fight, but their tents were fine and nothing looked to be missing, but Robin and Naerys had likely just made their first kills and Naerys was wounded. “Kedry, can you check the bandits?”

He nodded, and almost tore off a pauldron that had been damaged in the fight. It looked to have prevented any wounds, but had given its last gasp to do so. He disappeared into the darkness, off to where the torches carried by Steve’s foes were guttering in the dirt. Redbloom had confirmed the kills on those who had snuck up on the camp.

“Robin, in our supplies, there is some jam, that sweet fruit preserve,” Steve said. “Can you get it and bring it here, along with a knife, a spoon, some bandages from the medical supplies, and a waterskin.”

“Right,” Robin said, tearing his gaze away from the bandit lying on the ground with an arrow sticking from his eye.

“Toby, I need you to stoke the fire, and then get a clean pot and put it on the coals,” Steve called, falling into the steady calmness of post battle triage. He took the shortsword from Naerys, setting it on the ground, and inspected her arm. It wasn’t a cosmetic wound, but it definitely could have been worse. “So how does it feel to have your first battle scar,” Steve asked, putting on a grin.

“My first?” Naerys asked, slightly strangled. “You mean this will happen again?”

“Well, maybe if you keep going into battle in your evening clothes,” Steve said. “I’d suggest armour, but what do I know.”

“Because you in your trousers is such an improvement,” Naerys said, and forced out a laugh. “Buy me a set after you win fifteen thousand gold dragons,” she said.

“Sure, my shout for everyone,” Steve said.

Robin returned, looking more settled after having something to occupy his focus. “Here,” he said, holding out a jar of jam, the bandages, and the waterskin.

Steve took the jar and the bandages. “Take the water, and bring it to a boil on the fire,” he instructed, before inspecting him closely. “First, have some of the jam.” He handed the kid the spoon.

Mechanically, Robin took a spoonful of jam and swallowed it down. The sweet taste seemed to help, and Steve cleaned the spoon off on his pants before offering it to Naerys.

“Eat some,” he said. “It’ll make you feel better.”

Naerys ate, and colour returned to her cheeks. “How bad is it?”

“I’ve had worse shaving,” Steve said. “We’ll clean it, bandage it, and you’ll be right to start training again by Harrenhal.”

“Right, of course,” Naerys said, as if convincing herself.

“You said you wanted adventure, and you’ve defeated your first bandits,” Steve said. “How does it feel?”

“Oh, just great,” she said. “Wake them up and we’ll do it again.”

Steve continued to distract Naerys as he inspected the wound and waited for the water to boil. Toby and Robin were focused on their task, keeping their mind off things as they prepared the boiling water, and Kedry could handle himself. In short order, the preparations were complete, and Steve began to clean the wound. Naerys hissed in pain, but bore it better than some soldiers he had met, and he began to bandage her arm.

Kedry returned. “Five bodies,” he reported.

Shit, Steve thought, but kept it to himself. “I fought six,” he said aloud. “I only knocked one down, he must have fled.”

“We won’t find him in this,” Kedry said, gesturing to the predawn light.

“He doesn’t matter,” Steve said. “Are you wounded?”

“Bruised,” Kedry said, shaking his head. “My armour is on its last legs though.” He sounded frustrated.

Steve considered the sellsword. It was true that the bandits had probably only attacked their camp because they’d joined up with Kedry, but they could have just as easily been ambushed by them if they’d ignored him, and if they’d been attacked in the night like this without the sellsword or his ward, it could have gone badly for Naerys and Robin. After tonight, he was considering making an offer for something more than just a guide to Harrenhal.

“Hey, Kedry,” Steve said. “Do you want a place in my retinue?” Still seated before him, Naerys groaned, and it wasn’t from the pain of her wound.

Kedry tilted his head to the side. “Excuse me?”

“That’s what they call it, right? My retinue?” Steve asked. “I pay you a wage, and you join me on my adventures?”

“I...we have only just met, Lord Steve,” Kedry said. “I do not think -”

“He says yes!” Toby shouted from over by the fire. “What are you going to pay us?”

“Toby!” Kedry said, voice like frost.

“Four silver moons a month for Kedry and three for you Toby?” Steve half said, half asked. Toby choked. “What do you think, Naerys? You’re the one in charge of this.”

Naerys muttered something to herself. It didn’t sound complimentary. “First of all, you’ll be paying me six moons a month now, and after tonight Robin has proven himself worth four moons a month. Toby is young, but I saw how he controlled the horses tonight and he’s worth three moons a month easily. Kedry you’ll be paying five moons a month,” she said, the task seeming to calm her.

“Sounds reasonable,” Steve agreed easily.

Kedry’s eyes popped a little, and Toby’s jaw hung loose before he closed it with a click.

“And you’ll be outfitting them with all new arms, armour, and clothing at Harrenhal,” Naerys added.

“How much will that cost?” Steve asked.

“No more than twenty gold dragons,” Naerys said.

Steve nodded, and looked to their two potential new comrades. “I understand if you need some time to think about it,” he said.

“He’ll do it,” Toby said. He came over to poke Kedry. “Tell them.”

“I humbly accept your gracious offer,” Kedry said, as if by rote.

Naerys smiled. “Excellent,” she said, before dropping the smile. “Now if you don’t mind, I’m hungry and in pain.” She made to get up, as if to fetch some food.

“You’ll go back to your bed, and rest while we prepare a meal,” Steve said, sweeping her up in a princess carry.

Two spots of colour appeared on her cheeks, and she looked up to and down her nose at him at the same time. She tried to play it off as disgruntled anger, but Steve knew. As he took her back to her bed, the sun began to peak up over the horizon.

It was a new day, and they grew ever closer to Harrenhal and the riches that awaited.

X x X

For now though, he had more pressing concerns. He emerged from the tent and took in the situation. Kedry was policing the bandit corpses, Robin helping him uneasily. His eyes were fixed on the body with the arrow sticking out of its neck, and the blood that coated its front. Toby was more concerned with the horses, focusing on the bloodied hooves of Redbloom than the bodies.

“Robin,” Steve said. “I need you to get a meal started. Get the good stuff out. Toby, once you’ve seen to the horses, help him please. Kedry and I will clean up the camp.” Fitting words to actions, he took the legs of the corpse Robin was helping to carry, and the kid relinquished his burden. “Wash your hands first,” Steve added as Robin stepped away quickly.

The two warriors quickly removed the corpses from the camp proper, taking them out to join the rest in the field. On the last trip, Kedry brought a shovel and used it to keep the mostly crushed head, courtesy of Redbloom, in one piece while Steve carried the bandit. They placed the corpse alongside its fellows, and Steve took them in for a long moment. Twelve corpses, and one survivor fled into the night, and for what? Greed? Revenge?

“...Father forgive you, and Stranger take you into his keeping,” Kedry said, voice quiet.

“Praying for your enemies?” Steve asked.

“Someone must,” Kedry said. “Even if they had reason.”

“Think they were with the bandits you dealt with yesterday?”

“It is the only answer,” Kedry said. “I have no quarrel with smallfolk.”

And they were definitely peasants, Steve noted. Poor clothing, weapons that were marked by either poor quality or age, no armour to be seen. “Well, at least you didn’t run into them all at once,” he said.

A pained frown crossed Kedry’s face. “I must apologise for bringing them down upon us,” he said.

“Don’t mention it,” Steve said. “Really, don’t. Better they attack us than someone who can’t defend themselves.”

Kedry sighed, but said nothing. He broke the soft earth with the shovel, and began to dig. After a time, he swapped out with Steve, and soon they had a grave large enough to lay the corpses in side by side.

“Has Toby dealt with combat before?” Steve asked, as they began to gently place the bandits into the grave.

“Yes,” Kedry said. “The mountain clansmen do not put much stock in childhood, and he has killed men before.”

“He can’t be more than twelve,” Steve said, anger in his chest.

Kedry grimaced. “Westeros is not kind. I have kept him from fighting when I can, but…”

“At least he didn’t have to take up a weapon last night,” Steve said.

“...yes, at least there’s that,” Kedry said. “His life was not kind before I rescued him, but he’s a good lad.”

They lowered another body in, ignoring the brain matter leaking from its crushed skull.

“So I’ve seen,” Steve said. “He worries over you like a mother hen.”

Kedry groaned. “He means well, but sometimes…” he shook his head.

“I know the type,” Steve said, thinking back to Bucky nagging him after another fight in a side alley that a generous man would have said he had lost.

Kedry paused, before speaking. “If you could avoid naming him as a mountain clan child, seeing as we are to travel together…”

“It won’t be obvious?” Steve asked. Toby had some fairly distinctive looks.

“No,” Kedry said, shaking his head. “Toby has nothing of the looks of the clansmen. I suspect his mother was stolen.”

“Stolen?” Steve asked.

“Vale clansmen like to steal women back to their mountains to bear them children,” Kedry said, lips pressed together in a thin line.

Steve frowned. “And no one tries to rescue them?”

“The mountains are treacherous, and the clans know them well,” Kedry said. The last body was consigned, and he began to shovel dirt over them. “And women who are taken are often considered spoiled.”

Steve flexed a fist, keeping a grip on his temper. “In my homeland -” he cut himself off. Westeros was a different land, and it wasn’t in him to talk down to the people who lived here like he was some higher figure. “That’s not right.”

“It’s the way things are,” Kedry said. “Until someone changes it.”

Steve held his tongue, even as he realised more and more what it meant to live in a medieval society. Justice wasn’t for all, and might made right more often than not. “Maybe someone should,” he said instead.

Kedry grunted, but continued to shovel grave dirt. Steve left him to his thoughts, even as he considered what it might mean for him to be stuck in this land for the long term. He might only be one man, but when that one man was Captain America...

The sun had fully risen over the horizon by the time they had covered the graves, and they returned to the camp, where Steve could see Robin focused on the hotplate he had set over the fire. The scent of bacon was on the air.

Breakfast was a quick affair, the group ignoring the bloodstains left around their camp and eager to move on. Naerys got over the shock of the fight and emerged from the tent to eat, stubbornly eating with her one good arm, her demeanor making it clear that anyone who offered to cut her bacon for her would risk being eaten in turn. After they finished eating, they began to break down their camp without need for further discussion, and in short order the cart was loaded and they were ready to depart.

Steve watched as Naerys awkwardly attempted to mount her horse without using her injured arm. “Maybe you’d be better off driving the cart, at least for the next few days,” he said.

“I won’t be able to control the mules,” Naerys said shortly.

Steve cast his eye over the party, considering. “Toby,” he said. “Can you drive a cart?”

“I can do anything horse-like,” Toby said without a hint of a boast.

Off to the side, Kedry cleared his throat without looking over as he saw to Redbloom.

“Er, I mean yes m’lord, I can drive the cart,” Toby said.

“Call me Steve, or,” and here Steve sighed, “Lord America if we’re dealing with other nobles.”

“Knew it,” Toby muttered to himself.

“Do you mind if Robin rides Swiftstride?” Steve asked, voice low.

“That’s fine,” Naerys said. “So long as he treats him right.”

“I’m sure he will,” Steve said. “Robin! You’re on Swiftstride today.”

“I’ve never ridden a horse before,” Robin said, stepping away from the cart.

“Gotta start somewhere,” Steve said. “Here; hold the saddle like this, put your foot in the stirrup here, and…”

Robin didn’t make it up on his first attempt, but he did on his second, and he sat in the saddle like a politician on a pew, shifting with every movement of the horse.

“Everyone set?” Steve asked. He received replies of varying confidence. “Let’s go then.” He set out, leading the way back towards the road, Robin at his side. The two unridden horses followed obediently behind the cart and Kedry brought up the rear, his glaive close to hand in a holster designed for it.

As they rode, the sun ascended into the sky proper, creeping closer to midmorning. Steve nudged Fury ahead and away from the cart some, Swiftstride following, and giving himself and Robin some semblance of privacy.

“You ever been in a fight before?” he asked the kid.

“I knocked out a few teeth out of the butcher’s son’s mouth once,” Robin said. “He gave me two black eyes.”

“But you’ve never loosed an arrow in anger before,” Steve said.

Robin shook his head. “Not...not like that.”

“First time you’ve killed a man,” Steve said.

“He was a bandit,” Robin said, seized by the urge to justify himself. “Not someone who didn’t deserve it.” Despite his words, his face told a story that weighed upon him.

“Nothing wrong with regretting taking a man’s life,” Steve said.

“I don’t regret it,” Robin said. “But…”

“I was older than you, for mine,” Steve said. He thought back to the factory he had rescued Bucky and all the others from. He had been mostly used to his new strength, but the fight had really driven home just how fragile everyone else was to him. “After the fight, once everything was over, I threw up.”

“Really?” Robin asked, turning his gaze to him. “You?”

“It’s not a light thing, taking a life,” Steve said. “But you did it for the right reasons, and that’s what matters.”

“It still feels...I don’t know,” Robin said. “Like I could have shot him in the leg, or something.”

“Could’ve, would’ve,” Steve said. “You took action, and didn’t hesitate. Stopping to think in battle will only get you killed.”

Robin nodded slowly.

“You did good today Robin,” Steve said. “I know things are done differently here than in my homeland, but you defended you and yours, and that’s about all you can ask of yourself.”

“One of my friends, he was attacked with his father on a journey once, and he killed one of them,” Robin said. “His Da and uncles all got him drunk and took him to a brothel after. Said he was a man.”

“There’s nothing wrong with regretting taking a man’s life,” Steve said again. “You can celebrate your survival, and that your friends made it. What you shouldn’t do is be glad that you’ve killed.”

“Shouldn’t we celebrate the death of evil men?” Robin asked. “The Septons say that--”

“There’s a difference between being glad that evil can’t harm another, and being glad that you’ve killed,” Steve cut him off. Thor’s face after he decapitated Thanos crossed his mind’s eye. He thought of the men he killed in the war, and the agents of Hydra after it. “You probably saved Naerys’ life, you know. Be proud of that.”

“Yeah.” Robin straightened up, buoyed by the thought.

“Think about it, but don’t let it consume you,” Steve said. “If you want, we can talk more later.”

“Yeah...thanks, Steve,” Robin said.

“Anytime,” Steve said. “If you want, we can get you a drink at Harrenhal, but if you want to find a brothel, I’m afraid you’re on your own.”

The tips of Robin’s ears burned red. “That’s - I would never --” He caught sight of Steve’s smirk and hung his head.

Steve laughed, and nudged Fury into a trot. The kid would be alright.

The Kingsroad is not without its perils, but Steve and his company have overcome them. New companions have been met, and new bonds forged. They are thin, and yet to be tested, but beginnings are modest and may yet lead to great things. Harrenhal awaits...and Lord America will not be found wanting.