Inside the hillside manor, Arthur had the farmwives boil linen strips in scalding water to dress the wounds of the injured soldiers, replacing the filthy rags they had torn from who-knows-where.
With medical knowledge being what it was in this world, an infected or festering wound was a grave matter. If handled poorly, even a minor cut on a finger could lead to the amputation of a forearm.
Ser Barton's uninjured men were seated in the long hall, resting and enjoying a hot meal of vegetable stew, soft bread, and pickled olives.
After a brief respite, Ser Barton and Ser Bard headed to the room where the four captured mountain clansfolk were held to begin the interrogation. Arthur followed them.
From the information Arthur had gathered from the locals, he knew the relationship between the smallfolk at the foot of the Red Mountains and the mountain clans had shifted.
Coupled with what Ser Barton's squire had said—that the composition and motives of this group were unusual—Arthur sensed something was wrong. As the saying goes, when things are abnormal, demons are afoot. There was definitely more to this story.
Ser Bard saw Arthur enter and nodded to him, not minding his presence, before turning to begin the questioning.
"You savages. Why did you cross the Torrentine to raid the lands of Starfall?"
Facing Ser Bard's question, the captives merely glared at him with hateful eyes. Not a single one spoke.
Ser Barton placed an earthenware jug of water and several clay bowls in front of them.
"My knightly vows forbid me from harming captive women and children," Barton said. "But you would do well to behave. Answer our questions, and you will have food and water."
The clansfolk exchanged silent glances for a moment. Finally, a blonde woman among them spoke up.
"Our Stone-Grass Tribe has never raided the subjects of Starfall. Even after crossing the Torrentine, we tried to avoid contact with you Dornishmen. Yet you hunted us down and killed so many of our kin."
Ser Barton nodded to his brother, and Ser Bard poured them a bowl of water.
"What is your name?" Ser Barton asked. "A shepherd accused you of raiding his flock in the pastures east of the Torrentine. Many locals witnessed it."
"Ciara." The blonde woman lifted the bowl with her bound hands, took a sip, and then passed it to the boy behind her.
Sitting on the bench, Ciara continued, "We only wanted to trade some goods for sheep. But the moment that shepherd saw us, he abandoned his flock and ran for his life."
"Hahahaha!" Ser Bard, holding the water jug, laughed at the absurdity. But his laughter cut off abruptly, replaced by a grim seriousness.
"Savages. Then explain the raids on Violet Canyon over the past year. Did the farmers and shepherds at the foot of the mountains volunteer to give you their wives, daughters, grain, and livestock?"
Ciara licked her cracked lips. "I say it again: the Stone-Grass Tribe does not raid. It is the Vulture King who raids them!"
Hearing the name Vulture King, Barton and Bard looked at each other, shock and gravity mirrored in their eyes.
Ser Barton stood up and poured another bowl of water for Ciara himself. "The Vulture King? You speak of a Vulture King? Like the ones who have risen from the Red Mountains throughout history?"
Listening from the side, Arthur was equally astonished.
He knew the history. The first Vulture King dated back to the reign of the second Targaryen monarch.
Since then, every so often, a new Vulture King would rise, uniting the mountain clans of the Red Mountains and anyone disgruntled with the rule of the local lords. Using the endless peaks as a base, they would strike out in all directions, raiding the lands of the Marches and Dorne, sometimes even besieging castles.
In the history of the Seven Kingdoms, the rise of a Vulture King in the Red Mountains always meant a storm of blood and steel for the lands, people, and lords bordering the range!
"He began calling himself that a year ago," Ciara took a sip of water and confirmed.
"The Stone-Grass Tribe refused to follow his command to raid. That is why we were ostracized and threatened. We were fleeing to our kin near the Prince's Pass."
Ciara looked at the hemp ropes binding her wrists. "Will you untie us now?"
"Savage, if you are lying, I will take your head myself, woman or not." Ser Bard slammed the water jug onto the table.
"As for the ropes, they stay. I've seen how your kind uses a dagger. Especially that brown-haired boy behind you—he's handy with a blade."
The brown-haired boy gritted his teeth. "I don't have a dagger now."
Ser Barton pulled Arthur out of the room. "Arthur, this is urgent. Get us two fresh horses. We must return immediately to report this to Starfall. I leave my men and their horses in your care."
Ser Barton's face was grim. "I actually hope that savage woman is lying. But if she speaks the truth... we... we may be facing a war."
Ser Bard followed them out. "I'm going with you."
Before mounting up, Ser Barton warned, "Arthur, be careful guarding those four. They are cunning and barbaric; they know nothing of honor. Do not let them escape."
Arthur nodded. "Ser, rest assured. I will have men watch them day and night. I await your news."
Watching the two knights gallop away, Arthur grabbed some food and returned to the room where the captives were held.
As he opened the door, he heard the brown-haired boy whispering a complaint. "If I'd known it would end like this, we should have just joined the Vulture King."
Ciara glared at the boy, then turned to Arthur. "Forgive Shivone's words. It was just idle complaining."
"I want you to answer a few questions." Arthur placed the platter of food on the table.
"What kind of man is this Vulture King? How many men has he gathered?"
Ciara looked at the food on the table with surprise. "I haven't seen him. Some say he is a giant of a man with the eyes of a hawk. Others say he looks ordinary but acts with ruthless cruelty."
The brown-haired boy chimed in, "But everyone knows he has a massive vulture as a companion."
Ciara shot Shivone another glare. "Yes, everyone knows that. As for numbers, I am not sure. All I know is that in the lower and middle reaches of the Torrentine, there are no tribes left in the Red Mountains that have not submitted to him."
Arthur narrowed his eyes.
A massive vulture companion?
Is this Vulture King a skinchanger, or has he simply tamed a giant bird? Either way, it's trouble.
Having a flying scout that could provide early warning and reconnaissance was a massive advantage in any era of warfare.
Arthur asked, "How do you survive in the Red Mountains? What is your tribal structure like?"
"What?" Ciara was thrown off by Arthur's sudden shift in topic. "Why do you ask that?"
Arthur: "You don't need to know why. If you answer truthfully, I might untie your ropes."
In the conversation that followed, Arthur learned that there were hidden oases and valleys within the Red Mountains. The Stone-Grass Tribe grew drought-resistant crops like olives and dates there.
They also hunted and raised mountain goats.
Arthur also learned that there were iron and copper deposits in the Red Mountains. The Stone-Grass Tribe used to collect ore to trade for food with the farmers at the foot of the mountains.
This corroborated what the old farmer had told him earlier, leading Arthur to believe Ciara's story about the Vulture King.
Arthur also learned from Ciara that the wildling groups were tribes formed by blood or family ties, led by elders or war chiefs. Their leadership relied mainly on personal prestige rather than hereditary rights.
This matched his general impression and understanding of the mountain clans.