The night after the raid, things were surprisingly quiet at the top. Robb had finished his prayers in the Godswood and called a quick huddle. The plan to ambush Tywin wasn't rocket science, it was just about being in the right place at the right time. We spent thirty minutes ironing out the details, Robb set the watch for the castle, and then everyone was cleared to crash.
I slept like the dead until evening. I was just finishing up splashing some water on my face when Abel blurted out, "Boss, I heard the waitress at the Golden Glow Tavern is a total ten. Like, legendary beautiful."
I put my towel down and looked at him. Abel was tall, broad-shouldered, and starting to look like a proper Karstark which meant he looked like he could wrestle a bear.
"Wait," I said, a thought clicking into place. "Today's your fifteenth birthday, isn't it?"
Abel scratched the back of his neck, giving me a shy, goofy grin. "Yeah. It is."
In the North, fifteen is the big one. It's when you officially stop being a boy and start being a man, at least on paper. But according to the guys in the barracks, you aren't really a man until you've spent a night with a woman who knows what she's doing. If you don't get your bells rung on your fifteenth, your peers will never let you hear the end of it.
"Alright then," I said, grabbing a longsword from the rack. "Let's go see if the rumors are true. You're only fifteen once."
I strapped the sword to my waist. Axes were for the mud and the blood of the battlefield, but for a night on the town, a sword was just more practical.
We ran into the brothers, Matthew and Martin, guarding my door. They looked miserable. Apparently, they'd flipped a coin to see who got to go out first, and they'd both lost. Every other guy in the squad was already out spending their loot.
"Change of plans, boys," I said, gesturing for them to follow. "We're going for a drink."
The Golden Glow wasn't far from the inner keep. Even from a block away, we could hear the roar of the crowd. The place was packed with Northern soldiers who were riding a high from the victory.
"That fight was insane!" one guy yelled over the din. "I followed Lord Umber from one side of the wall to the other. My axe is notched in four places!"
"Oh, shut up," another guy barked. "You guys had an ambush. We were at the front of the West Wall taking giant crossbow bolts to the face! These Southerners are loaded, I swear. Their ballistas are built better than our houses."
"Be happy we're alive," a third voice added. "If that Karstark kid hadn't come up with the rope trick, we'd still be out in the dirt dying by the hundreds."
"Tch, whatever," a new voice sneered. "People are talking like he's some hero. I heard Eddard Karstark spent the whole fight hiding behind a wooden wall with the archers. Kid's a total chicken if you ask me."
Abel froze. His face went from happy to murderous in about a second. He ripped the curtain back and stepped into the tavern, pointing a finger at the guy who just spoke. "The hell did you just say?"
The guy turned around. It was Mata, Owen Norrey's younger brother. He was dressed in plain tunics, looking drunk and grieving. His brother had just died taking the gate, and clearly, he was looking for someone to blame for the pain.
"I said your 'Young Master' is gutless," Mata spat. "He wears plate armor just to sit in the back. He's a coward."
"Shut your mouth!" Abel roared, his fists balling up.
"Make me, kid. Or are you a coward too? Can that thing between your legs even stand up yet?"
I watched from the doorway as the tavern went quiet. I quickly ran through the military code in my head. Fighting a comrade during a rest period? Usually ten lashes or a fine of one silver stag. Since the Blackfish was the provost marshal and he actually liked me, I figured a fine would cover it.
Matthew and Martin started rolling up their sleeves, but I put a hand on their chests. "Stay back. If this turns into a riot, Robb will have to start beheading people, and I'm not in the mood for a funeral."
Owen Norrey's second-in-command, a guy named Silas, saw me and gave a respectful nod of apology, holding back his own men. I waved it off. I wanted to see this.
I walked to the bar, tossed a handful of silver stags to the owner, and ordered a bottle of Arbor Gold. Then I turned to watch the "experiment."
See, Abel had leveled up. After Oxcross and the Tooth, his rank had jumped to [Ice Warrior]. He had a 40% strength boost and a 20% stamina boost. I wanted to see what that actually looked like in a street fight.
Abel lunged. He was fast, terrifyingly fast for a kid his size. He threw a punch that actually whistled through the air.
Mata's eyes went wide. He wasn't expecting that kind of heat. He'd been drinking, but his instincts were still sharp. He ducked, stepped inside Abel's reach, and tripped him. Abel went down hard, smashing into a table and sending bottles flying.
The tavern owner looked like he was going to have a heart attack, but then he saw the pile of silver I'd left on the bar. He bit one of the coins, grinned, and went back to pretending he was blind.
Abel scrambled up. He wasn't even breathing hard. That 20% stamina boost meant he could do this all night. He charged again, and this time, he didn't give Mata room to breathe.
Mata was the more "agile" fighter, he had better reflexes and more experience but Abel was a tank. Every time Mata landed a hit, Abel just ate it and kept coming.
Strength and stamina increase speed and power, I noted, but they don't help with accuracy or reaction time. He's a freight train, but he's still a freight train.
"Hey, Lordship," a shifty-looking guy with missing teeth leaned over to me at the bar. "You betting? Two-to-one on the big guy, one-to-two on the short one. Silver only."
"The big guy's taken a lot of hits," I said, looking at Abel's bruises. "Why are his odds so high?"
"Because he's gonna quit soon," the bookie, Tomallo, grinned. "Nobody takes that many punches and keeps going."
I pulled a gold dragon out of my pocket. "I'll take that bet. A gold dragon on the big guy."
Tomallo's eyes nearly popped out of his head. He snatched the coin before I could change my mind. He thought he'd just robbed me.
A second later, Abel let out a roar. He ignored a punch to the ribs, grabbed Mata by the collar, and slammed him into the dirt. Before Mata could recover, Abel hoisted him up by the belt and the neck, holding him over his head like a sack of grain. He started marching toward the window.
"Whoa, stop! We give up!" Silas yelled, rushing forward.
"Abel, put him down," I said quietly.
Abel stopped, exhaled a long breath, and dropped Mata onto a bench. He walked over to me, looking tattered but totally energized.
I looked at Tomallo. "I believe you owe me."
The bookie looked like he wanted to cry. He whistled to two of his cronies, who reluctantly handed over two heavy bags of silver stags.
"It's everything I have, My Lord!" Tomallo whined.
"Tell the owner to pour everyone a round on me," I said, dismissing him. I turned to Abel and tossed him the bags of silver and my original gold dragon. "Take it. This is your victory bonus. Now, go find that 'coming-of-age' ceremony we talked about."
Abel's eyes lit up. He'd just won a fight, earned a small fortune, and got his boss's blessing. He slammed the money on the bar and started whispering to the owner, pointing toward the kitchen.
I followed his gaze. A woman in her early twenties was walking out with a tray. She was curvy in all the right places, with a face that was just "approachable" enough to be dangerous. She was way better looking than the girl Theon had fallen for.
The owner looked at the pile of money on his bar. It was enough to buy two high-quality horses. He nodded vigorously, grinning at Abel. "I get it, I get it. I'll make sure Avril takes very good care of you, young sir."
Abel grabbed Matthew and Martin by the shoulders. "I asked for girls for you two, too," he whispered, though not very quietly. "Boss paid for the whole squad tonight."
The brothers looked at me, stunned. I just waved them off. "Go on. Have fun. Just don't be late for the march tomorrow."
They cheered and followed the owner upstairs.
I leaned back against the bar, taking a slow sip of the Arbor Gold. It was sweet, fruity, and exactly what I needed.
In the system, Abel's profile updated: [Loyalty: Excellent (Reason: He supports you / You rewarded his victory)].
I felt a low rumble in my stomach and looked at the cook. "Hey. Bring me the best steak you've got. I'm starving."