I let the lads eat in peace then rest for twenty minutes before I stood up.
"Time to go boys," I told them. "I have to track another half hour up to Casterly Rock and you'll get to coast downhill back to Lannisport. I made it in the darkness earlier today, so you'll be fine. Don't forget to erase your tracks as you go. It's good practice."
"Yes, Lord Galladon!"
The three of them chorused. They went about clearing their area for crumbs of food or anything that would give away their presence with military efficiency, and they knew better than to groan and complain at this point.
I allowed them a certain degree of familiarity, as the three of them had become the closest things I had for friends in this world. But at the end of the day, I was their lord, and I knew better than to try and overturn millennia of social conditioning, especially as it favored me so heavily.
Once they were finished and we were ready to go our separate ways, I asked, "You know what to do today, yes?"
"Aye," Jack answered for the group. "It shall be done, m'lord."
They all saluted with their right fist pressed against their chests.
"Good," I said. "One last thing before we leave. Do you have a name for me yet?"
Stepping forward from their line, Jace began to speak.
xxx
It had only taken me twenty minutes to make it back to Casterly Rock instead of the thirty I'd imagined. With no one to hold me back, I could build up a serious pace, and I was panting by the time I got back to my room on one of the lower levels of the castle.
House Tarth was a middling house in the Stormlands, certainly behind in strength to the Marcher Lords of Swann, Dondarrion, and Caron. Buckler was richer, Connington more influential, and recent marriages had brought Estermont closer to the Baratheons of Storm's End.
Still, we had the biggest naval force in the region, shabby as it were, and our ancient name still carried enough weight that we necessitated apartments in the Rock.
I didn't stop there for long.
My father was out, no doubt politicking with this or that lord, and I saw no sign of my mother and sisters, so I made my way to the largest yard in the castle where the noble knights and lords would be practicing.
It was still early in the morning, seeing as I had left before five o'clock, and I hoped to try my mettle against men from outside Tarth.
I had never had the chance to travel beyond a few visits to Storm's End and once to King's Landing, but that had been when I was only a child. This would be the best opportunity I had in years to see where I stood amongst the best in the realm.
Evenfall Hall was a large castle relative to middle nobility, seeing as we were once kings in our own right, but the Rock's main yard dwarfed ours by a crazy order of magnitude.
I wagered some five thousand men could squeeze together here in times of war, and even now the place bubbled with activity as lords and heirs, knights and squires fought and practiced with each other.
The air rang with the song of metal and the cracking of wooden swords. The piercing sounds rattled against my ears in a way I would have found unpleasant in another life.
Now, it lit a fire in my chest that demanded to be extinguished.
The fatigue from the morning run melted away to a simmering soreness that I could easily ignore. My conditioning was so good that the past day's jousting was nothing but a memory.
I made my way to the main weapons rack in the center of the yard, dodging the small pockets of duels that formed around the more prolific fighters. Everyone wanted to catch a glimpse of the best warriors in the land.
Looking back, I saw dozens of ladies, children, and older lords lining the balconies that overlooked the yard, some caught up in conversation over refreshments, others attentively observing the action below.
I was stopped before I got within ten feet of live steel.
"You there!" A gruff voice spoke. I turned to see a middle-aged, barrel-chested man glaring at me with baleful black eyes. "How old are you, boy?"
I tried not to let the title of boy get to me.
"This boy has a name, ser," I said, polite as could be. "I'm Galladon Tarth, Lord Selwyn's son and heir. Yours would be…?"
He huffed. "Son and heir and not old enough to join this side of the yard, I say."
He pointed a meaty finger toward where the younger boys and squires were whacking at each other with wooden swords.
"That's where you'll be for the day, my lord."
I grimaced. I could see a few squires with potential—solid stances and good instincts though unbalanced by growth spurts, but most of those boys were hammering at each other like the swords were clubs.
That would be beyond a waste of my time.
Mustering up my best smile, I tried again. "I still haven't gotten your name, ser."
"Ser Benedict Broom." He crossed his arms over his front, as if daring me to keep talking. "Master-at-arms here at the Rock. Which means this here is my yard. Is that going to be a problem, lordling?"
I knew a lost cause when I saw one. I might have the physique and stature of a young man, but my voice was a dead giveaway.
And though I was handsome enough with promises of a strong jaw, my upper lip was bare of any fuzz and some baby fat still puffed out my cheeks. Ah, the detriments of reincarnation.
But as an idea slowly came together in my mind, I allowed myself to relax. "No problem at all, Ser Benedict," I said, keeping up the smile. Only this time it had an edge to it. "I'll make myself known to the older squires."