Chapter 184: Red Comet
The North
Winterfell
Ser Boros Blount wore the white enamel armor and flowing white cloak of the Kingsguard, his helmet a tall, gleaming helm. Pinned to his breastplate was a golden lion badge with eyes of red gemstone.
"In the name of the Warrior, I charge you to be brave." With that, he moved the sword resting on Ian's right shoulder to his left.
"In the name of the Father, I charge you to be just." Then he moved it back to the right.
"In the name of the Mother, I charge you to defend the innocent."
"In the name of the Maiden, I charge you to protect all women."
…
…
"Arise, Ser Ian, a knight of the Seven Kingdoms." Ser Boros retracted his sword after speaking the final words of the vow.
Ian rose to his feet and buckled his sword belt.
*It is my greatest shame to be knighted by a fool like you,* he thought. "This is my honor, Ser Boros," Ian said respectfully.
Who was the worst Kingsguard in history? Ser Meryn Trant? No, even he was not as wretched as Boros Blount, the coward who surrendered without a fight when surrounded by men Tyrion sent while escorting Tommen to Rosby.
In a sense, perhaps only Jaime Lannister—who slew one king and raped a queen—was worse.
Next, a septon brought by Robert came forward and anointed Ian with the seven holy oils.
After the entire investiture ceremony was complete, King Robert himself stepped forward.
"Ser Ian, I name you to my Kingsguard, to replace the Kingslayer." Robert dispensed with all ceremony, making his first appointment directly.
"I will not fail you, Your Majesty. I will fight for you with my life," Ser Ian swore loudly. *I will faithfully perform the duties of the Kingslayer,* he added in his heart.
"You have already proven your skill at arms before the court. Therefore, I name you deputy commander of the royal army." Robert then announced his second appointment. "Use your talents well and assist Eddard." The King had earlier named Eddard Stark commander of the royal army. "I expect you to win sufficient glory in the Westerlands."
"Yes, Your Majesty." Ian accepted the appointment at once.
Ned Stark, standing to the side, raised no objection. In a small council meeting the day before, this young man had already proven his talents, and Ned was glad to have his assistance.
Later, Ian completed the remaining tedious parts of the ceremony. During the feast that followed, he made his way to his sister Lyanna's side.
Clearly, the player named Lyanna had based her appearance on the original Lyanna Stark; her every move, her speech, and her temperament were all a careful imitation. Though the books offered only written descriptions, her appearance was at least seventy percent similar to the lost wolf maid. Fortunately, Lyanna Stark had been dead long enough that this woman still perfectly matched the shadow in Robert's memory—the prize he had sought but never won.
It had been Lyanna's suggestion to Robert that Ian be appointed to the Kingsguard.
She had told the King to name her brother a white cloak first. As a member of the Kingsguard, he could participate in commanding the royal army without his status drawing criticism. The Kingsguard took no wives, held no lands, and fathered no children. The title itself represented the king's own authority. Unless he made a mistake, other nobles would have no grounds to criticize him.
From that position, Ian could easily gain enough military renown in the coming war against the Westerlands—a war the rest of the continent was certain to win.
After the war, Robert would only need to release Ian from his Kingsguard vows. He could then be granted a great castle in the Westerlands, and Lyanna, in turn, would be eligible to marry Robert.
As for which castle would be granted to Ian, that was yet to be seen. It all depended on which one became vacant.
Of course, the best outcome for Ian was Casterly Rock. That was his greatest goal for the next stage of their plan.
"Congratulations, brother." Lyanna raised the wine glass in her hand to Ian, a smile on her face.
"Thank you," Ian replied, raising his own glass in a toast.
They could see the same thought reflected in each other's eyes: *The advantage is ours.*
Suddenly, Ian whipped his head to the side, spitting out the wine in his mouth. If he had not reacted so quickly, it would have sprayed all over Lyanna's evening gown—or worse, the King sitting beside her.
Then, Ian looked up, his gaze fixed on the sky, his entire body frozen in a daze.
Confused, Lyanna followed his gaze and looked toward the eastern sky.
The next moment, the wine glass slipped from her hand and shattered on the floor.
"No, it's impossible," Lyanna murmured, staring at the strange red comet that now bled across the night.
***
The North
The White Knife
"The ravens have flown to the castles of the North, carrying Ned's decree. Within two months, most of the northern lords will be marching their armies to Winterfell," Odis said, pulling at the oars.
Jaime lay half-sprawled in the stern of the boat. Odis had given him some concoction that had miraculously healed most of his injuries, but he showed no intention of helping to row.
"Then they will march south through Moat Cailin and the Neck to join the other royal armies. Together, they will march on Casterly Rock to smash your father's head in," Odis continued.
"Before that," Jaime shrugged, already accustomed to Odis's dark humor, "we have to figure out how to get out of this damned North. Even if your magic helped us evade the pursuit from the Winterfell riders, you must know we can't possibly reach White Harbor or Moat Cailin before Winterfell's ravens do."
"And do you remember how I escaped the pursuit of those riders?"
"You said it was your magic," Jaime replied. Noticing that Odis was not satisfied with the answer, he added, "Your eagle scouts from high above, tracking their every move."
"And so," Odis smiled, showing a pair of unflattering yellow teeth, "not a single raven from Winterfell will reach White Harbor. Not one."
"You killed them all?" Jaime sat up abruptly, grabbing the wooden paddle beside him. "So we can take a boat from White Harbor and sail south?"
Seeing Jaime finally drop his languid act at the hope of escape, Odis laughed aloud. But just as he was about to make another black joke, the smile on his face froze.
He stared in astonishment at the red glow in the eastern sky, a chill running down his spine. Goosebumps erupted all over his body.
*The tide of magic… it's come a year early. What bastard is responsible for this?*
---
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