Game of Thrones: Knight’s Honor

Kingswood lies at the southern edge of King's Landing, separated by the Blackwater Rush. Since the Targaryen dynasty established King's Landing as their capital, it has served as the king's hunting grounds. For a long time, these forests remained untouched—no one lived there, and no trees were felled—resulting in a rich biodiversity unmatched anywhere else in Westeros. Legends even whisper that mythical beings like the Children of the Forest might still inhabit this vast woodland.

During the reign of the Mad King, control over the Kingswood weakened significantly. This led to an influx of commoners unable to sustain themselves in King's Landing. They began to settle within the forest, carving out a precarious existence. While life in the Kingswood was far from comfortable, those with basic hunting skills and knowledge of local plants could manage to survive on its fringes.

Over time, the forest saw an increasing population of settlers—not just from King's Landing but also debtors, refugees, and outcasts from other territories. By the later years of this settlement wave, more than 20 villages and towns of varying sizes had been established, housing a population numbering in the tens of thousands.

Geographically significant, Kingswood stands as a key connection between the North and the South, with The Roseroad cutting through it on the way to King's Landing. This strategic position attracted numerous merchant caravans, and inevitably, bandits. These bandits initially operated in small, disorganized groups, preying on lone merchants or small caravans. However, the emergence of the Kingswood Brotherhood changed everything.

The Kingswood Brotherhood unified the scattered bandit groups into a formidable force of up to 5,000. Their leaders were as notorious as they were skilled: Simon Toyne, the Smiling Knight, Wenda the White Fawn, Oswyn Longneck the Thrice-Hanged Thrice-Hanged, and "Big Belly" Ben were all capable fighters in their own right.

At the time, the Kingsguard under the Mad King—featuring legendary knights like Barristan the Bold, Arthur Dayne the Sword of the Morning, and Gerold Hightower the White Bull—were considered the strongest in the Seven Kingdoms, underscoring the caliber of the Brotherhood's leaders.

With their growing power, the Kingswood Brotherhood aimed high. They severed the crucial north-south connection along The Roseroad, established checkpoints to extort "taxes," and mercilessly attacked any caravan that defied their rules. Their victims included not only minor lords but even caravans belonging to House Tyrell, the Warden of the South, and the royal House Targaryen itself.

The Brotherhood's actions severely disrupted the safety of King's Landing and hindered tax collection. In response, King Aerys II launched several campaigns to suppress them, but these efforts largely failed. When larger forces were deployed, the Brotherhood melted into the dense forest, taking refuge in the surrounding villages, whose residents were complicit in their survival. The bandits often shared their spoils with these villagers, fostering mutual benefit and loyalty. Many commoners even joined the Brotherhood, strengthening their ties.

If smaller forces were sent, the Brotherhood ambushed them in the forest, decapitating their victims and hanging their heads along The Roseroad to instill fear. This gruesome practice earned the area the name "Howling Forest." Before the Brotherhood's eventual defeat, over a thousand heads were displayed here, creating an enduring legend of terror. Even after the heads were removed and buried, travelers claim to sense an eerie atmosphere and hear ghostly howls while passing through the forest.

In a macabre twist, the Mad King ordered the construction of a post station in Howling Forest, cynically calling it a resting place for travelers. To ensure its use, he demolished other rest stops along the road, making it the sole option for caravans traversing that stretch of The Roseroad. Yet most travelers opted to camp at Rat's Tail Rock, a safer, open area near Howling Forest with clear sightlines and suitable for large groups.

After spending the night at Rat's Tail Rock and departing early the next morning, travelers can typically make it through the unsettling Howling Forest in a single day. Unfortunately, the Tyrell caravan was not so lucky. Like other caravans, they camped at Rat's Tail Rock the previous night, but the following morning brought relentless rain. The downpour only worsened over the next few days. Staying at Rat's Tail Rock risked missing the tournament in King's Landing—an absence that would likely anger King Robert Baratheon.

Reluctantly, Garlan Tyrell ordered the caravan to push onward despite the worsening weather. The rain slowed their progress, and matters were compounded by a poor road. Years ago, the Mad King had removed the stone paving along this section of The Roseroad, leaving behind only dirt. Though passable in dry conditions, the unmaintained dirt road transformed into a mire when wet. Carriages became stuck, and even those on foot struggled, sinking into the mud if they paused too long.

By nightfall, the Tyrell caravan had yet to traverse the Howling Forest. Coincidentally, they reached the Howling Forest Inn just as darkness fell, leaving them with no choice but to stop for the night. Camping in the muddy wilderness was simply not an option.

Although the inn had been constructed only a few years earlier, its deep forest location and lack of maintenance had rendered most of its buildings uninhabitable. Rotting wood and damp conditions plagued the structures, with only the stone-built front hall still offering some semblance of shelter. Even so, the roof was dilapidated, and the interior required a lit fireplace to drive out the cold and damp. It sufficed as a temporary refuge for the nobles and their servants, but others in the caravan had to make do with tents pitched in the rain. Compared to the guards left on night watch, those with tents were fortunate.

Lynd, a scout known as the Bear Hunter, was initially among those allowed to rest in a tent. However, the accompanying nobles expressed a desire for fresh game to liven up their meals. A hunting party was quickly formed, with Lynd—renowned for his reputation—naturally chosen as its leader.

"I think there's enough game," said Raul, hoisting a fawn pierced clean through the head by an arrow. He turned to Lynd, his voice tinged with weariness and satisfaction.

After over an hour of hunting, the group had gathered a decent haul. Each member carried prey, and while it wasn't enough to feed the entire caravan, it would certainly satisfy the nobles' appetites. Despite the rain and Lynd's preference for traps over tracking, his exceptional senses—keen eyesight, acute hearing, and a sharp sense of smell—allowed him to locate game efficiently. His one weakness was his mediocre skill with a bow; in an open area and dry conditions, he might fare better, but the rain and forest canopy left him relying on the more skilled archers in the party.

"Let's go! Back," Lynd nodded in agreement with Raul's suggestion.

Buoyed by thoughts of a warm fire and dry clothes, the party quickened their pace, bantering lightly as they trudged through the rain-soaked forest.

Then Lynd suddenly froze. "Stop! Don't say a word. Be on your guard," he ordered sharply, his voice cutting through the group's chatter. His gaze locked onto a dense thicket to their right.

The others, aware of Lynd's uncanny perceptiveness, immediately obeyed. They silently set down their prey, bows drawn and ready, scanning the forest for any sign of danger.

Lynd stared intently at the dense forest ahead, his expression tinged with confusion as he focused his heightened senses on the source of the danger that had prickled his instincts moments before. A strong, visceral feeling of threat had washed over him, making the hair on his body stand on end. It was this overwhelming sensation that prompted him to halt the group and search the area carefully.

Yet, despite his intense scrutiny, Lynd found nothing unusual. The sense of danger began to fade, and he briefly considered that it might have been a trick of his imagination. Just as he was about to dismiss it, his finely attuned hearing caught a faint, irregular sound—a soft breathing, coming from within the dense forest.

"Be careful! Stay alert!" Lynd barked, his voice sharp as he focused on the sound. Simultaneously, he noticed movement—subtle but deliberate—beneath the undergrowth. The shaking was too rhythmic to be caused by mere raindrops; something was moving. His hands instinctively went to his twin swords, and he drew them in preparation.

Lynd stood with a furrowed brow, staring at the dense forest ahead. His senses were heightened, his senses focused intently, searching for the elusive presence that had triggered a deep sense of unease.

Moments earlier, a sudden wave of danger had washed over him, so intense that the hair on his body stood on end. Reacting immediately, he halted the group's march and ordered everyone to remain on guard while he carefully surveyed the forest that had stirred his alarm.

Despite his thorough search, Lynd found nothing unusual. Even the oppressive sense of danger faded away, leaving him questioning whether it had been a figment of his imagination. Just as he began to dismiss the incident, his acute hearing picked up a faint, irregular sound—breathing, soft and deliberate, coming from within the dense forest.

"Be careful, stay alert!" Lynd called out, his voice sharp and commanding. He fixed his gaze on the undergrowth, noticing the subtle but unmistakable movement among the foliage. This was no natural stirring caused by raindrops—it was something alive, moving stealthily through the forest. Without hesitation, he drew his dual swords from his waist, ready to confront whatever lurked within.

Suddenly, a massive, indistinct black shadow burst from the forest, moving with astonishing speed. It barreled past the hunters closest to the edge of the woods, leaving them stunned and unprepared. In an instant, it snatched a fallen fawn from the ground and disappeared back into the forest, vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

The group stood frozen in disbelief, their eyes wide with shock. None of them had expected such a sudden, eerie encounter, and the fact that the shadow's target was merely a dead fawn added to their bewilderment. Although it was dark and raining heavily, making visibility poor, they could vaguely discern that the creature was a beast of some kind. Lynd, however, had seen it clearly—a massive black panther-like figure that matched the description of the legendary Shadowcat.

The Shadowcat was a beast of myth, its dark fur marked with subtle, stripe-like variations that gave it an almost spectral appearance in the dim light, much like a shadowy zebra.

"What was that?" Raul asked, his voice trembling as he stared into the darkness where the creature had disappeared.

"A Shadowcat," Lynd replied curtly.

The words sent a shiver through the group. As experienced hunters, they all understood the peril of encountering a Shadowcat, especially at night in the forest. A hungry Shadowcat was a nightmare for any hunter, and the fact that it had taken prey instead of attacking one of them was a relief. It was likely sated and would not return to pose further danger.

"We should be safe now," one of the hunters murmured, though his voice was uncertain.

Lynd's voice cut through the uneasy silence. "You all head back," he commanded, setting down the wild boar he had been carrying.

The hunters exchanged confused glances. Raul, eyeing Lynd carefully, asked, "Are you planning to hunt it?" The idea of hunting a Shadowcat was extraordinary—a feat that brought immense honor to any hunter.

In addition to personal glory, there was the allure of the ancient legend shared among hunters across Westeros and Essos. It was said that any hunter who successfully claimed ten legendary beasts, including creatures like the Mountain Bear and Shadowcat, would earn the blessings of the Old Gods and gain the strength to hunt dragons. The others naturally assumed Lynd was chasing such a dream.

"Is this about the legendary hunting list?" Raul pressed, curiosity mingling with excitement.

Lynd hesitated briefly, understanding the misunderstanding. He chose not to explain further, merely gesturing for them to leave and to report the encounter truthfully if anyone asked.

Seeing Lynd's determination, the group fell silent. Raul nodded, taking charge of the others. They picked up their prey and prepared to depart, offering Lynd words of caution before continuing their journey back to the camp.

As they moved away, Lynd stood alone, his thoughts turning inward. Though he had been demoted from Knight's Squire to the grueling and thankless role of a scout, it was no secret among the Tyrell retainers that his reassignment was merely a test. Those who understood the politics of the Tyrell household knew it was only a matter of time before Lynd reclaimed his status.

Among the lower-ranking guards, this was seen as an opportunity. Many sought to align themselves with Lynd, hoping that when he inevitably rose again, their association would bring them favor. Raul was one such guard, maintaining a good rapport with Lynd and volunteering to join the scout team.