I stand upon the inner wall of Castle Black looking at my kingdom. The Archbishop and his army had gathered quite the crowd. A few hundred people surrounded him,all cheering, yelling and begging. I doubt many others will join them and it's unlikely that the mess they'll leave behind will raise much support for the church of fire. Then again when the church established themselves in Solin they slaughtered hundreds upon hundreds of people who didn't pay for the protection of fire for fifty years before moving into the more acceptable business of threatening slaughter, that only took ten years to be forgotten and after those ten years one would struggle to find a heretic. Perhaps the church may be able to find a way to regrow their strength and their transgressions will be forgotten once again. How they might manage to achieve such a thing eludes me though, should they try slaughtering again I could simply take ten thousand men, march them to their eden and have the two thousand men guarding it reduced to appendages and bits of meat as could most other kingdoms. If they tried extortion everyone would shrug and let them spin whichever story they want, what information they possess won't be the most damaging and even then not many would trust their words. They could try growing naturally through their income from the timber and specimens in the Black Hallows and the donations from their followers but it'd take a decade or two for substantial growth and everyone else important would have also grown and done so at a faster rate.

"An impressive force, my prince," Thomas says as he looms behind me ominously.

"I reckon you could crush three of their best knights," I reply. "Like snails in a shell."

"That is high praise my prince," Thomas says hesitantly.

"But you do not believe it."

"A man's worst mistake can be overestimating his capabilities my prince. I'm certain your faith in my skills is well placed; however I am compelled to exercise a certain amount of pessimism when judging myself."

"Other men might benefit from feeling such compulsions. I wish I was capable of such a thing."

"Everyman underestimates himself in some regard, my prince. It's just that most aren't as aware when they do."

"Thomas if I underestimated myself in the slightest I wouldn't do what I'm going to do at the end of this week."

"Receive the crown?"

"Of all the things I will do dear Thomas, putting that lump of metal on my head will be the least unthinkable. If I told you the entirety of what I plan to do in the years to come you'd declare me mad and strike me down."

"Nonsense my prince, nothing could make me betray my oath-"

"That's fortunate, however in case that statement comes to be false I shall carry out my plans step by step, earning your trust, your faith, your devotion and once I believe you all believe in me then I shall reveal the full extent of my aspirations to you."

"You are my prince, should you judge me unready then I am unready."

"Where's the other one?" I inquire.

"Your pardon my prince?"

"Your friend, Ryan, where is he?" I further. "You two are usually together when doing patrols or on watch duty. Yet when I found you you were with sir Ricard."

"He poisoned his guts, my prince. He'll be out of the latrine before the week is over."

"Does he suffer from a weak stomach or are some of the cooks incompetent?"

"Neither my prince. He was walking through the city in his free time and thought it was a good idea to have stew from a street vendor."

"Rotting rat meat, some composting vegetables, maybe a few mouldering fruits all boiled in muddy water using a bin in place of a pot. Despite his fondness of them he isn't the sharpest knife in the set now is he?"

"I shouldn't jest, my prince," Thomas replies. "Ryan will probably weep over not getting a chance to see the archbishop for such a foolish decision."

"Ryan does not strike me as the weeping type nor the religious one.",

"He may not seem like it, my prince but he prays each evening for the forgiveness of those he's slain, prays for them to be accepted into the fire and whatnot."

"You don't seem like you approve of this."

"I think there's no greater way to waste fifteen minutes of his time," Thomas states. "However it's his time to waste and if it makes him happier who am I to judge?"

I think I can see the bishop, he's little more than a speck but he's a speck dressed in bright red being surrounded by specks dressed in shiny armour who are in turn surrounded by specks dressed in plainer clothes. I wonder what will happen when he realizes his dreams of sainthood will never venture outside of the realm of fantasy. Will he scream? Curse the fire perhaps? Doubt it's existence? Return to the violence for which he was intended for? Or will nothing change, will he continue to blindly devote his life to an entity which he isn't even sure is real?

"How come you're friends with him anyway?" I inquire. "Did one of you save the other on some battlefield?"

"He's my half brother," Thomas says. "My mother died birthing me, Ryan's succumbed to corrupted guts when he was three. Our father raised us."

"What was he?"

"Father was a blacksmith, tried to teach us how to be one too. I was alright at it but Ryan was more adept at using weapons than making them."

"What tournament did he win to be considered for knighthood?"

"Didn't win any tournament."

"Why don't you enlighten me on how he achieved his rank then?"

"Father noticed Ryan's fondness for blades so for Ryan's sixteenth summer he made Ryan this dagger, long heavy thing, pretty too. Ryan loved this gift with all his heart and did all he could to repay father's kindness, working whenever he could and giving father all the earnings, practically forced the poor man to take his coin and did whatever he could to help him. One day he was at the market buying some fish when all of a sudden your grandfather, King Harry, walked through the market. Now the king wasn't the most loved individual back then and many wished their blades were in his throat but few had the courage. Whatever happened that day dulled the fear of eight men armed with stolen swords and armour. They burst out from a house and managed to kill one of the two king's guards. The remaining defender managed to slay two before his life was ended. All Ryan saw was six armed men and four corpses and that's all he needed to see apparently. He took his knife and gutted the nearest man with ease. He then stole the dead man's sword and cut the remaining attackers to ribbons before they could even lay a finger on the king. He put in a good word for me and in a week we were both squires. Father couldn't have been prouder, he actually wept when we were knighted."

"What's he doing now?"

"Still a smith my prince," Thomas sighs. "We've tried to get him a more luxurious career but he refuses to take them. He likes his status, doesn't want to ascend, doesn't mind making horseshoes and short swords. Ryan still sends him half his wages though, father might be content living a plain life but Ryan will at the very least ensure that the man can fill every cabinet in his home with silver."

"It's pleasing to know he's not only competent but also compassionate. Tell me do you think he could take three of their best knights?"

"You want my truthful answer?"

"I would like nothing else from you."

"I think he could take that whole force using nothing but father's gifted dagger."

The bishop takes four long hours to reach Castle Black and the moon has begun its ascent. The crowd was left at the outer gates, as were the majority of his soldiers. Only Father Ricard, the ward, Captain Holder and the bishop's poisoners were permitted to enter with the bishop, not because I lacked trust for his men, I just merely did not wish to waste gold on feeding all of them nor did I want to subject my servants to the stress of assisting men who may try to have them burned alive over the slightest trace of heresy. Of course the servants have little to fear but pious men usually need the words fuck off carved into their chest before they begin to understand it and finding the appropriate knives for such a task is a bore. So instead of opening my gates to them I gave them the location of several reasonably priced establishments that will house them, a pleasant field less than an hour outside of the city where they can camp and for those who still grumbled I gave the address of ten establishments guaranteed to put a smile on their faces.

I don't waste words with them, instead I just let Martin stare menacingly at them from behind me. It's hard to guess which one he hates the most, the leader of the religion that wishes to end his in the name of power, the cowardly poisoners who could kill him with ease, the weak little high priest who has intimidated the coin out of his congregation's pocket or perhaps it's Captain Holder purely because of some reason I cannot yet decipher.

The servants take their horses to the stables and begin to lead them to their chambers while I smile warmly

"You!" I yell cheerily, pointing at Captain Holder who has removed his helmet and given it to a nearby servant boy. His face is unremarkable, neither pretty nor disgusting, not meek nor proud, just average, what a stone might hit if you threw it into a crowd. His nose is a bit big, not a hair lies upon his head or face and his eyes are a mundane brown. "I shall escort you to your chambers personally!"

"I do not wish to be a burden my prince," the captain replies hesitantly. "I am sure you have important matters to attend to, this competent young man should be able to lead me just fine."

"Oh nonsense!" I say. "I have things to discuss with you and very few matters could be more important than them."

"My prince the hour is late," he states. "We are all weary. Would it not be better to have this conversation after we are all rejuvenated?"

"This is business that cannot wait," I declare walking up to the captain and waving the servant away. I clap my arm around his shoulder and drag him to the castle's main door. "But do not worry for I shall be brief and you will be free to rest soon."

The captain cannot think of another reason to deny me the luxury of leading him and into Castle Black we go.

Steering the man through hallway after hallway proves to be more torturous than I previously expected. We go up and down stairs, in complicated circles, twisting and turning through random hallways and Holder begs and whimpers the whole way. He makes claims that his death could instigate a holy war, that his father could pay for his life, that he'd be a valuable ally to have. Currently he's attempting to convince me that if I were to marry his sister my gold reserves would double. My guess is that his family mainly consists of petty nobles, they probably paid to have him be a minor knight in the church of fire and he achieved his current position doing anything and everything he was told to by those better than him. Eventually I'm certain that we aren't going to be interrupted.

"Could you do me a favour dear captain?" I cut across his endless babbling.

"Anything my prince," he declares. "Anything! Name it and I'll do it for you!"

"Shut up," I say calmly.

He obliges and I continue to lead him for a few more moments before suddenly stopping and savagely kicking him in the back of the knee before he has time to react. He drops to one knee with a yelp of pain allowing me to grab his head and ram it into the wall twice, leaving a small red stain

"During our last conversation you gave me many reasons to do many things, good captain," I say calmly, releasing his head and dropping to his level. "You declared me a liar, insulted me and even fucking struck me."

"I'm sorry my prince," Holder slurs, he falls forward and grabs onto my cloak for support. His mouth has filled with blood and I think he's bitten off the tip of his tongue. Perhaps I was too enthusiastic and bruised his brain a bit. "Please forgive me."

"Don't fucking touch me," I spit shoving him off knocking him to the floor as I rise to my feet and loom over him. "I just did that to you and you think touching me is a good idea?"

Holder just groans in response. I sigh and regain my composure.

"There's one specific thing you said to me that led to you being here," I continue. "Had you neglected to say it you could be sleeping soundly in a feather bed but you didn't and now you aren't. Do you know what brought you to my anger?"

"Mercy, my prince," Holder manages.

"No," I answer. "Mercy did not bring you here nor will it be shown here. What did force this spot into your life was the line: doesn't matter whose cunt you fell from. Now while she might not even remember I'm real and not the product of one of her episodes, I'm well aware of who my mother is and will not tolerate common scum such as yourself referring to her with such terms."

"I'm sorry my prince!" The slur makes Holder's wails somehow sound more annoying. I kick him in the side with all my might reducing him to a coughing weeping mess.

"That's what I think of your apology."

"I didn't know it was you," Holder gasps. "If I knew I wouldn't-"

"Fortunately for you you're not completely useless, if you were you would be perforated right now not bruised," I yawn. I lean over and grab Holder by his breastplate and drag him to his feet.

"Look at me," I say calmly.

He does not comply, instead he keeps his eyes firmly shut as he continues to whinge about how he didn't know.

"Look at me or I'll tear your eyelids off!" I yell. They shoot open with a pathetic whimper and stare back into mine. Blood has begun to stain the whites and their original colour is hard to tell but he can still see well enough to look me in the eye.

"You are mine now," I state. "I own you. You will spy on your church for me, should you refuse to do this you will die here and I will have my men cut your wonderful mother, rich father and pretty sister into pieces slowly and cram them into a shallow pit. Should you tell the church about this incident or lie to me about the going ons the outcome will be incredibly similar."

"No," Holder spits. "No!"

"Yes!" I respond enthusiastically. "Yes! See, the church has the location of them in the case of your death. Gold can have that address copied onto a piece of parchment, as can a scandal and steel!"

"You won't touch them!"

"Not if you do as I say," I agree. "So confirm it for me, do I own you?"

Holder stares at me defiantly.

"Such a shame, you really made Deirdre sound like such a pretty young girl. You said she hasn't seen her sixteenth summer yet right? I dread to think of what my men might do to her, you know how soldiers sometimes do more than what they were ordered to, you've seen how cruel a man who makes a career out of killing can be haven't you? Her screams might as well be-"

"You own me!" Holder spits through broken, gritted teeth.

"Wonderful! Now I delivered you safely to your chambers, you had too much wine to drink, wandered the castle and fell hitting your head quite hard. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"Good."

I let go of his armour and the man falls to his knees once more like a puppet without strings. I grab his head and ram it into the wall twice more and he goes completely limp in my hands. I let his body collapse and step over him, leaving him lying there unconscious. Some servant should find him some time tonight. If his skull is cracked and he chokes to death on his own vomit it'll be no great loss to me or the world, there's dozens of Holder's in the church all with something to threaten. This Holder is merely more convenient than all the others and I trust he won't mention my mother again.