Ben turned to face Maeryn, who stood with her sword half-drawn, her face a mask of shock and rapid calculation. Smart woman, a rare thing to find. She was already working through the implications of what she'd just witnessed.
"Still feeling confident about those odds?" he asked mildly.
Maeryn's hand trembled slightly on her sword hilt, but she didn't draw the blade. "You... you killed them all."
"Fucking....yeah. That's kind of how that works lady. They attacked me," Ben said simply. "I defended myself. Just like with your shakespearean fucking knight friend."
"Ser Donnor wasn't my friend," Maeryn said quietly, her voice barely above a whisper. "B-But these men were my companions."
"Should have thought of that before you decided to tie me up naked and debate whether to murder me in my sleep," Ben replied while scratching his beard, taking a step toward her. "But I'm not unreasonable. I'm also a man who needs information. And you're going to give it to me."
"And if I refuse?"
Ben's smile was cold as winter iron. "Look around you, sweetheart. Do you really think that's a smart play?"
Maeryn's gaze flicked to the bodies of her fallen companions, then back to Ben.
"Hurry the fuck up before I change my mind..."
He could see the exact moment she made her decision, survival trumped everything else. Her hand fell away from her sword.
"What do you want to know?"
"Everything," Ben said. "Starting with where the hell I am."
Maeryn licked her lips nervously, a gesture that drew Ben's attention to her mouth despite the circumstances. "You're in the Stormlands. Specifically, in the lands sworn to House Wylde, though we're probably closer to the border with the Crownlands by now."
"Stormlands, that's as stupid name..." Ben repeated, filing the name away. "And that means what, exactly?"
"One of the Seven Kingdoms," Maeryn said, as if that should be obvious. "Ruled by Lord Robert Baratheon from Storm's End, sworn to King Aerys Targaryen on the Iron Throne in King's Landing."
The names meant nothing to Ben, but he catalogued them anyway. This sounded like some kind of feudal system, which meant politics, which meant opportunity for a man who knew how to play the game.
Or, someone who could ignore the rules. Like him...
"Tell me about this King Aerys, hopefully he's not as cunty as his name." he said.
Maeryn hesitated, clearly debating how much to reveal. Ben took another step forward, and she apparently decided that honesty was the better part of valor.
"T-The Mad King grows worse each year," she said quickly with a stutter. "He trusts no one, burns people alive with wildfire for the smallest offenses. The realm teeters on the edge of chaos. There are whispers that Prince Rhaegar may need to act soon, before his father destroys us all."
Interesting. A kingdom in political turmoil, with a mad ruler and potential succession crisis. Ben had operated in similar environments before, though admittedly none quite this medieval.
"And what's your part in all this?" he asked.
"Wh-, nothing...I'm a bastard," Maeryn said simply, expecting Benjamin to know what that means. "The baseborn daughter of Lord Wylde. I have no part in the games of lords and kings."
"Wait, like your dad fucked some random chick and had you? The fuck are you doing out here?"
"Surviving," Maeryn said. "Same as anyone else."
Ben could respect that. He'd done plenty of surviving himself over the decades. Not with any hardship, but as America's golden boy...
"Where the hell is my gear?" he asked.
"Hidden," Maeryn said. "We weren't sure what manner of sorcery might be woven into it."
"It's not sorcery, dumbass. It's just well-made." Ben gestured toward the treeline. "Go get it. All of it."
"And if I refuse?"
Ben's expression darkened, and Maeryn took an involuntary step backward. "Don't ask stupid questions."
She swallowed hard, then nodded. "Very well."
Maeryn disappeared into the woods, returning a few minutes later with his shield, his knife, and what remained of his uniform. She'd also brought a black cloak, probably taken from one of her dead companions.
"Your clothes were filthy," she said, offering the garments with hands that only trembled slightly. "I... I cleaned them as best I could."
Ben took the clothes and began dressing, noting the way Maeryn's eyes lingered on his body.
He was used to that reaction from women, his enhanced physiology had certain advantages beyond just strength and durability. But there was something different about the way she was looking at him. Not just lust, though that was certainly there. It was more like... awe.
"I get that I'm amazing in every way, but you have no shame at all huh..?," he said, pulling on his boots.
Maeryn flushed, color rising in her freckled cheeks. "I... no. Yes. I don't know what to think."
"I don't blame you," Ben said, strapping on his knife and picking up his shield. "I am pretty god damn awesome."
"W-what are you..?"
Ben considered how much to tell her. On one hand, she was a stranger in a strange land, and he had no reason to trust her. On the other hand, he was going to need local knowledge if he wanted to survive in this place long enough to find a way home.
"I just told you...awesome," he said finally. ignoring the question.
"That's not wha-?"
"You ask a lot of questions Maryni..or was it Maeryn, ah fuck it. Whatever."
Maeryn bit her lip, and Ben could see her mind working. She was a survivor, this one. She'd already figured out that her best chance of staying alive was to make herself useful to him.
"You said you needed information," she said carefully. "I could help with that. I know the Stormlands well, and much of the Crownlands too. I know which lords can be trusted and which cannot, which roads are safe and which are watched."
"In exchange for what?"
Maeryn hesitated, then seemed to steel herself. "Protection. You've seen what this realm is like. A woman alone, especially a bastard woman, has few options."
"I don't need any protection...there is nobody in this planet that can stop me from doing what I want..when I want..."
Ben finished, before studying her face, looking for signs of deception. He found none, but that didn't necessarily mean anything. He'd known plenty of women who could lie with a straight face when their lives depended on it.