The King of Winters

Chapter 53

The lost friend

The day was hot and sticky, as all the days were in Essos. A ferocious southern sun beat down upon them, but heat was the last and least of Asher's concerns. The Company of the Rose was encamped three miles south of town, well north of where he had expected them. His home remained a world away, and so did his friend ... well, away from him and surrounded by enemies. If the gods were good, the rumors he'd heard would be very true, but Asher knew that it was more like Winterfell standing alone against the might of the dragons.

"Where is Hunt?" Asher asked Barton, a young man no older than twenty with red hair and a russet beard. "How long should it take to buy three horses?" He had known Barton for more than five years. They had grown up together in the company of men and women who had left their homes in order to stay free. They had fought together, bled together and learned together along with the other young men in the company.

Edgar shrugged from the top of the rock where he was perched upon. "Asher, is this a good idea? A safe one? We are not a part of the company anymore. You know that as well as I do."

"It may not be safer, yes," Asher told the heir of Barrowton. "But we still belong in the company." Unlike most of them here in the Company of the Rose, Edgar was born as the firstborn son and heir of Lord William Dustin and his lady wife Barbrey and stood to inherit Barrowton after his father but the boy had followed Asher into exile, both no older than thirteen in this new part of the world. Lord Dustin had sent his uncle Bill not to bring the boy back to him but to keep him safe away from Westeros.

Asher himself had been a reckless and a stupid boy who could not keep his mouth shut. He had been so worth the day Jon Connington came to Ironrath to hear his father swear fealty to the Targaryen king. Their true king and queen had been murdered through treachery and the dragon had the gall to come to them after that. Young and reckless as he was, Asher had shouted words which would've cost his head if not for his father. His father had sent him away with his uncle to Essos in an exile to keep him away from the Targaryens' grasp. He had lost them in the sea and ended up in Braavos all alone. It had taken four years for him to find them again but those years had made him harder, better and smarter. Those years had given him hope and a chance to see that there was hope after all. Not a day had passed without Asher wanting to fight for justice, for his friend and king. The day might come soon though, if everything he had planned for today came to fruition.

"We have gone to great lengths to get them to fight all these years," Owen reminded him. "This is not working, don't you see. That's why we came away from them remember?"

"True," Asher admitted. "But I have something worth fighting for this time. Something I did not have the last time or the time before that."

"And what is that?" Owen asked. "It has been two years since we last rode with the Company, and Redrain is dead. If it had been Rickard you would have an easy time convincing them to fight."

Redrain. Rickard Flint had been so full of life the last time Asher and his company of six had left him. He had been a good man, with a sure sword and an easy smile, it was hard to accept that he was gone. A true warrior at their head, Rickard had not gotten the name Redrain for no reason. Asher had tried his best to convince him to return to Westeros and fight for justice but Redrain had always denied him with a soft, sad smile. 'What reason is left there to fight for a lost cause?' he would say. If ony he was alive now, Asher could have given him the reason and made him set course to Westeros. He wondered who had taken the command of the company now. Bill Dustin seemed to be the perfect option. His prowess with his axe was famed all throughout Essos and the Free Cities together. Bill was a capable commander... and Edgar's uncle. He would have an easy time convincing him to turn home and to his friend.