"Hiring?" Howard was stunned, then leaned over the bar, his interest piqued. "Did you actually find a contract?"
He slapped Aldric on the shoulder with a hand the size of a fan. "Not bad, young man. Most hedge swords rot in their boots for a moon before their first bit of business. What kind of job is it?"
Aldric kept his answer vague. "A private matter for a friend. We're heading into the Wolfswood. I need to recruit three hands."
Howard nodded, pulling a worn notebook from beneath the counter. "What are your requirements? I'll see who's sober enough for work."
Aldric thought for a moment. "I want a scout familiar with the Wolfswood terrain—preferably a hunter. He needs to be skilled with a bow and short blades." Just in case we need to flee, I don't want us wandering in circles.
Howard jotted it down. "And?"
"Two steady sword-and-shield men. Combat prowess matters less than caution. I want men who know how to read a room and keep their mouths shut." Aldric paused. "And no one from Rabbit's Paw Village or the surrounding lands."
Hearing the location, Howard snapped the notebook shut, his expression turning serious. "Rabbit's Paw? I have to warn you, boy—that village is part of Lord Stark's direct holdings. If you stir up trouble there and get caught by the winter town guard or the castle garrison, even the Father's mercy won't save you."
Aldric waved a hand dismissively. "It won't come to that. I'm helping a client collect a debt, not sacking a holdfast."
Howard grunted. "Debt collection. That's usually work for the street thugs in the sinks. If a nobleman needs a sellsword for it, the target must be prickly. Is it Ander Backus?"
Aldric blinked, genuinely surprised. "How do you know?"
Howard didn't answer directly. "Let me guess... setting a trap to fleece a veteran garrison commander? The common cutthroats in this town don't have the stones for that. It has to be someone from the castle." He jutted his chin toward the massive walls of Winterfell. "The Stark children are well-raised; the older two don't gamble, and the younger two are still in the nursery. So, your employer is the Greyjoy ward, isn't he?"
Aldric put down his cup, speechless. "...You're wasting your talent pouring ale, Howard. You should be a master of whisperers."
Howard laughed heartily, though the mirth didn't reach his eyes. "Theon Greyjoy is a lord's ward, but he's ultimately a hostage. He has status, but no real power. Don't think you can walk over Ander just because you have the Kraken's favor. If I were you, I'd go, but don't bleed for it. Get what you can, walk away from what you can't. Don't get yourself buried over a gambler's silver."
Aldric felt the genuine concern in the old man's warning. "Thanks, Howard. I'll keep my head on straight."
By dusk, the recruits arrived at the courtyard.
Aldric shook hands with the three men. "I am Aldric Seres. Boss Howard sent you?"
"I'm Eddie," the first said, a tall, wiry man with a thin mustache and a receding hairline. "I was an archer for House Cerwyn once. Then a master of the hunt. My brother died last winter, leaving three babes behind. Hunting for the Cerwyns doesn't put enough bread on the table for five children. I need sellsword's coin."
"I'm Conrad," the second said, a burly man with thick, curly hair and a dense beard. "I was a levy for House Karstark. Fought the Ironborn in the Rebellion, then spent years hunting wildlings. I'm just here to see my good-brother, Juan, earns enough for a marriage dowry."
"I'm Juan," the younger man behind Conrad added shyly, patting a short, sharp axe at his belt.
Aldric laid out the terms. "We are five, counting my apprentice. The total reward will be divided into six shares. I take two as captain, and you four take one each. Sit and eat."
Sitting over bowls of turnip soup, the atmosphere thawed. These were the "homebound mercenaries" Howard had spoken of—men not driven by bloodlust, but by the crushing weight of poverty.
The next morning, at the Hunter's Gate, the squad met their employer. Theon Greyjoy rode out accompanied by a slightly soft-featured youth with blonde hair.
"This is Haywar," Theon announced, gesturing to his companion. "A member of Lord Stark's guard and a friend of mine. He's your witness. He won't lift a finger to help you, so don't ask."
Theon leaned in, whispering to Aldric with a grin. "Haywar owes me fifteen silver stags from a card game. He's doing this to clear his ledger. Don't let him slack off."
Theon is a shrewder player than he looks, Aldric thought.
Three days of riding through the dense pines of the Wolfswood brought them to Rabbit's Paw. They found Ander Backus in the yard of his stone manor, tightening the cinch on his horse's saddle. He was fully armored.
"Uncle Ander!" Haywar called out.
The commander turned, surprised. "Haywar? What brings a city guard to the sticks?" He noticed the armored giant and the sellswords behind him. "Are these your men?"
Inside the hall, the pleasantries ended quickly. When Haywar explained the debt, Ander's face turned a violent shade of purple. "That kraken-spawned cheat! He dares send men for coin he stole?"
"Lord Theon claims it was a fair game of Highgarden Flush," Aldric interjected calmly.
"Fair?! He didn't explain the rules, kept the score in his head, and told me I lost ten Dragons in a single night! Eleven, he says now! Chasing me to my own gates... go fuck yourself, foreigner!"
Ander grabbed a heavy brass wine jug and hurled it with all his might at Aldric's head.
Aldric didn't flinch. As the metal blurred toward him, he simply backhanded it mid-air.
CRACK!
The jug caved in as if struck by a mace, whistling sideways and slamming into a thick oak pillar. It embedded itself inches deep into the wood with a resonant thrum.
The hall went deathly silent. Ander froze, his breath hitching.
Aldric rubbed his hand. "Lord Ander, I respect your service to the North, so I will overlook the jug. But my men and I have come a long way, and we haven't tasted meat in days. The debt must be settled."
Ander stared at the crushed metal in the pillar, then back at the giant. He sat down heavily. "Meat, I have. You can eat your fill. But I will not give that boy a single copper for a cheat's game."
Ander leaned forward, his voice dropping an octave. "How much was your cut to bring me in?"
"Two Dragons," Aldric said.
"I can give you ten," Ander said. "But not for the debt. I have a problem in the woods. One of my best men went into the forest to find his son. The boy was found hiding in a cellar later, but the father never came back. I sent three search parties. None returned."
Ander gestured to his armor. "I was riding out to find them myself. I feared I wouldn't have enough steel to come back. But since you're here... perhaps the Old Gods have a sense of timing."
Ander looked Aldric in the eye. "Will you take a real contract, Captain? Ten Gold Dragons to go into the Wolfswood and bring my men home—alive or dead."
Aldric felt the shift in the air. The "side quest" had just become significantly more interesting—and dangerous.