WMK 136

Chapter 136: The Three Sisters of the Wayfarer's Rest

Setting out from the Pinkmaiden and traversing a rugged, difficult stretch of hills brought them into the domain of the Wayfarer's Rest. The Wayfarer's Rest was situated on a hillock, marking the easternmost edge of the western hills. To the north lay High Heart, while traveling east would lead into the valley of the Maidenpool.

The Maidenpool was a tributary of the Blackwater Rush, originating from High Heart. The river widened and narrowed, slowed and quickened with the seasons and the rains. Its flow never ceased, continuously feeding into the Blackwater Rush, which eventually passed by King's Landing and rushed out to sea.

The Whent cavalry halted by the moat of the Wayfarer's Rest. Bennard, holding a banner bearing the bat sigil, spurred his horse towards the city gate.

"This moat is dug incredibly wide," Creighton remarked with surprise. When the Whent army had marched to the Crossroads of the show, they had only passed near the Wayfarer's Rest in haste. Like many others, this was his first time actually arriving at the castle.

"It's not entirely dug. It primarily connects two natural rivers. House Vance just linked them together," Jermaine explained. Being a hillman, he was more familiar with this area.

"No wonder the watercourse is so curved and set so far from the walls," Creighton said, understanding dawning as he nodded.

The Wayfarer's Rest wasn't as pretty as the Pinkmaiden. Its high walls showed the bare rock; its densely packed arrow slits were narrow; and from the walls, several square towers were visible. Their design was plain but stout, inspiring a sense of security.

"What do you think of the Wayfarer's Rest's defenses, Rosso?" William asked his most trusted subordinate.

"Easily defended, hard to attack," Rosso replied succinctly.

"True. The design of the walls and towers is very sound, and the rivers offer protection. With just one or two thousand defenders, it would be difficult for an enemy force ten times that size to take it," Creighton added.

"Old Lord Vance was killed by the Kingslayer. That's not something easily forgotten. The Wayfarer's Rest's defenses are this strong; Lord Karyl will certainly not submit to Lord Tywin," William mused. "If we also inform him that the Northern army has begun its march south and that Harrenhal is prepared to mobilize, he will likely agree to cooperate with us."

The other cavalry captains voiced their optimistic agreement.

East of the Maidenpool lay a thousand leagues of fertile plains, with no more natural defenses. If the Westerland army were allowed to cross the Maidenpool, the final battle would likely erupt near Harrenhal. Not only would the plains around the Gods Eye be ravaged by war, but Harrenhal itself would suffer immense damage.

The devastation the Westerland army wrought on the Riverlands was too severe. William found such a scene, even if not on Harrenhal's lands, utterly unacceptable.

Since the plan to pin down the Westerland army in the hills was no longer feasible, blocking them west of the Maidenpool was an acceptable alternative.

Soon, Bennard returned. "Ser William, Lady Liane has invited the knights to enter the castle. Our army may cross the moat but can only camp outside the city walls."

William estimated the area. The space outside the walls was indeed spacious enough for a camp, but the area inside the moat was largely within range of the arrow slits.

One shouldn't harbor intentions to harm others, but one must not be without precautions against them.

"We'll camp on the outer side of the moat," William said, glancing at the captains. No one objected.

He turned his gaze back to Bennard. "But who is Lady Liane? Shouldn't the current Lord of the Wayfarer's Rest be Lord Karyl?"

"Lady Liane is Lord Karyl's eldest daughter. Lord Karyl is not currently in the castle."

William felt a pang of disappointment.

If Karyl himself were here, perhaps he could be persuaded to commit his troops. That could pose a sufficient threat to the Westerland army, forcing Tywin to attack the Wayfarer's Rest, where they could then use the strong defenses to buy time until reinforcements arrived.

But with only his daughter in residence, hosting a feast and making small talk would probably be fine, but military matters were likely beyond her purview.

Once again, Rosso and Hasley volunteered to remain at the camp, while William entered the city with the other knights.

The gatehouse was a massive fortress, its iron-bound doors wide open. A few people stood waiting at the entrance.

The one at their head was a tall, shapely maiden with sun-kissed skin and clear blue eyes. She wore a well-tailored lady's dress that highlighted her figure, but her brows and eyes carried a spirited, heroic air.

William swung himself down from his horse and offered a charming smile. "My lady, well met. I am William Whent. Might I have the honor of knowing your name?"

But he had clearly overestimated his charm. The maiden's delicate brows furrowed slightly, her tone displeased. "Why has your army not crossed the moat? Are you worried about the arrow slits on the walls?"

'Beautiful lady, aren't you also not letting us inside the city? People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw stones. Pointing it out just makes things awkward for everyone.'

William remained unflappable. "You misunderstand, my lady. It is merely for convenience. We may need to depart at any moment to strike at the Westerland forces. Going back and forth across the bridge would likely be rather inconvenient."

The maiden's eyes were full of disbelief. She snorted but said, "I am Rhialta Vance, sister of the castellan, Liane Vance. Welcome to the Wayfarer's Rest, Ser William."

She then patiently, though it seemed to require effort, exchanged greetings with the other knights one by one. This display of self-control made William view this straightforward maiden in a new light.

Passing through the gate, the scene before them surprised everyone.

The inside of the city resembled a refugee camp. Tents were everywhere, cramming the streets and squares. Yet, upon closer inspection, they appeared orderly, not haphazardly erected.

People, clearly commoners by their dress, not soldiers, moved among the tents.

When a few children ran past them, playing and roughhousing, even though the maiden looked somewhat displeased, William couldn't help but point at the tents, large and small, and ask, "Lady Rhialta, what is the meaning of this?"

"What else could it be?" Rhialta seemed to grow even angrier. "The Westerland armies burned every village they saw. Some people had nowhere else to go, so they fled to the Wayfarer's Rest."

With that, she turned her head and glared at William. "Now you know why we didn't let your army into the city?"

William could only laugh it off and asked, "Lady Rhialta, how many siblings do you have? Are you the youngest? What are your—"

[...]

The great hall of the Wayfarer's Rest was spacious, with many pillars and vaults, though the windows were somewhat narrow, leaving the light dim.

In the hall, William met the acting castellan, Liane.

She had a slender figure, fair skin, and brown hair coiled atop her head. Her features were delicate and pretty, but her expression was icy, exuding a stubborn air.

Across a long table, about ten knights sat or stood opposite her, seemingly in the middle of discussing some matter.

Seeing Rhialta lead William and his party into the hall entrance, everyone had to stop.

Another round of tedious courtesies followed. William was formally introduced to the eldest sister, Liane, the youngest sister, Emphyria, Ser Devon (the brother of Lord Karyl), Ser Cedric Wayne, the captain of the guard, Ser Terrick Hawick, whose responsibilities were unclear, and others.

"Uncle Devon, let's stop here for today. I must attend to Ser William first," the eldest sister said, her expression cold as ice, yet her voice was soft, sweet, and mellifluous, sending a tingle down the spine.

'That voice...'

"No!" Devon, his hair thinning, remained unmoved. "Last time it was welcoming Lord Tommen, today it's Ser William. Who knows who will come next? This matter cannot be delayed any further."

"Emphyria has said there's no problem. I believe her."

Devon laughed in frustration. "A matter concerning the safety of the Wayfarer's Rest and the survival of House Vance, and you believe Emphyria? She's only fourteen, and a girl!"

"I am also a girl!" The icy-voiced eldest sister did not back down. "Yet both Grandfather and Father appointed me acting castellan. Uncle, remember that I am the heir to the Wayfarer's Rest!"

'Such strong presence.'

Not only William felt this; everyone in the hall unconsciously straightened up a little.

Devon seemed cowed as well, his tone softening. "I do not mean to question your authority, Liane. But none of the household knights can understand this decision. We only hope you can explain it clearly to us."

He glanced at the guests standing dumbfounded at the entrance. "How about this? Let Ser William be the judge. He studied at the Citadel for years. Surely, he can understand what Emphyria is talking about."

This sudden proposal surprised William. He had originally planned to observe and not speak.

The gazes from the eldest and second sisters—one like ice, the other like a knife—made him very uncomfortable.

"Ser Devon, I thank you for your high regard. However, I am merely a guest, and newly arrived at that. I'm afraid I have no right to speak on the affairs of my hosts."

"Not just you, Ser William, to be honest, everyone at the Wayfarer's Rest is completely baffled right now. No one understands how Liane came to this decision," Devon sighed. "Emphyria always says we don't understand. Yes, it's true we haven't read many books, and we can't make sense of those... things she presents. But we've spent our whole lives learning how to fight, and we've never heard of anyone doing it this way."

Now, William's curiosity was piqued, hard to suppress. He glanced at the knights beside him.

Creighton shook his head and pretended to stroke his grey beard. Clearly, he disapproved of wading into these muddy waters.

Jermaine shrugged, meaning, 'It's your call.'

Willis... no need to look at Willis. His face revealed nothing.

Bennard... the bastard was sneaking glances at the second sister.

William turned his gaze to the youngest sister, Emphyria, standing behind the eldest.

All three sisters had the same brown hair, but hers was curly, ringlets framing a forehead that seemed intelligent. Her eyebrows were long and arched, and her youthful face was smooth and translucent.

Looking closer, William felt she maintained an air of extraordinary elegance and poise.

The youngest sister also looked at William, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly.

'Hmm, this feeling... something's off... I get it. Is she saying, 'I'm not targeting you, I mean everyone here is trash!'? Unacceptable!'