"It's… it's…" The stablehand stammered, following Alex's pointing finger. "Ser, that's Lady Harlan's horse! A fine warhorse bred from the tall steeds of the Reach and the endurance-hardened sand steeds of Dorne. It costs twice as much as an ordinary warhorse!"
A single warhorse cost twenty times more than a farm horse, ten times more than a draft horse, and thrice as much as a trained riding horse. Which meant, the one Alex had his eye on was worth six times the horse he had left here.
"All the more reason it suits me, no?" Alex grinned. "You know as well as I do that no one wins a hunt without a good mount. I've come to win the favor of Lady Ilano, after all."
"Ser, this… this isn't something I have the authority to approve," the stablehand shook his head anxiously. "I'll have to report this to the stablemaster."
His voice was loud enough to draw the attention of a younger stablehand working at the other end of the stables. The youth hurried over, though he didn't say anything right away. He simply observed, still trying to make sense of what was going on.
"It's just a horse," Alex said, brow furrowing. "What's there to report? And Lady Harlan? Come now—how old is she? You think she's still riding? Especially something that size?" At her age, she'd be lucky not to fall off a bicycle—let alone mount this behemoth.
"Well…" Truthfully, Lady Harlan hadn't ridden a horse in years. The last one she owned never saw a saddle before dying of old age. But still—just because she didn't ride didn't mean the horse could be lent out. The stables were part of House Harlan's pride, the face of Harrenhal!
"I only need it for a week," Alex pressed. "Once the hunt's done, I'll return it immediately. If anything happens to it during that time, I'll pay full price. Haven't you heard the saying? A Lannister always pays his debts."
"Please, Ser, don't put me in this position—"
"And besides, I left my horse here with you, didn't I? That one's been with me for years." He narrowed his eyes, tone sharpening. "Don't tell me you actually think I'd steal your horse?" Well… you wouldn't be wrong.
"Very well," Alex continued smoothly. "No need to argue. Go fetch your master and let him know. I'll wait here." He flipped a golden dragon into the air. "And let him know—this is my fee for the loan."
The younger stablehand, who'd remained silent until now, suddenly stepped forward with a bright grin.
"Ser, the stablemaster isn't in Harrenhal at the moment, but I'm sure if he knew it was you requesting the horse, he'd agree without question. Let me help you choose a mount first, and we can report to him later."
The elder stablehand looked at his son in surprise.
"I've got this, Father. You don't need to get involved," the boy assured him with a quick shake of his head.
Lady Harlan was old and childless. Harrenhal hadn't hosted a tourney or a hunt in years. Most of the horses in this stable were barely ever used.
With the lord indifferent and the stablemaster long lax in his duties, the place was essentially run by just the two of them. Who would notice if a horse was borrowed for a week?
And if the knight didn't return it? Impossible. Everyone knew it—A Lannister always pays his debts! Even children knew that!
As for the gold coin? What gold coin? He was simply offering help to a nobleman. The gold had nothing to do with it!
"Suit yourself," Alex said nonchalantly, though he secretly let out a breath of relief. If they'd insisted on calling the stablemaster, he might've had to settle for a common warhorse.
It wouldn't have ruined his disguise as "a certain Lannister knight," but it wouldn't have been as convincing, either.
Alex flicked the coin into the air, and the young stablehand caught it deftly, inspecting it briefly before slipping it into his pocket.
"This way, my lord," he said with a wide smile, leading out Lady Harlan's snow-white steed.
The horse, already long accustomed to being groomed but seldom ridden, was surprisingly docile. With his intermediate riding skill, Alex tamed it in under a minute.
"My old friend," Alex said from atop the white stallion, glancing back at the elder stablehand, "If I do win Lady Ilano's favor and marry the heir of Ladywell Town—I'll make you my stablemaster there! Hahaha!"
With that, he turned the horse around and galloped out of the stables.
The guards at the gate barely gave him a glance before stepping aside.
It wasn't until he was out of sight that one of the guards muttered to his partner, "Did you notice something weird? Didn't he look… taller just now?"
"What are you talking about?" the other guard asked, puzzled.
"I… never mind. Must've been my imagination."
Unaware of the guards' confusion, Alex returned to the inn he had stayed at earlier, purchasing two jugs of ale and a bundle of dried rations before leaving Harrenhal from the northern gate.
To the north of Harrenhal stretched vast farmlands. It was thanks to this fertile soil that the lords of Harrenhal were once among the richest in Westeros.
If not for the curse, this would've been the most desirable holding in the realm.
Alex passed winding streams and sun-drenched meadows. Before long, the terrain gave way to rolling hills and low thickets. He slowed his pace and began veering toward the King's Road.
Originally, Alex had estimated a three-day journey to Saltpans. But with this new horse, he could potentially cut the trip down to a day and a half.
Not that he planned to.
Even the hardiest of steeds had limits. Endurance was always the first to break.
A horse that could sprint at 40 kilometers an hour might cover that in one hour—but in two, it would barely make 60. To cover 100 kilometers could take 5 to 7 hours—and that was with a trained, conditioned mount.
If the horse was more pampered than practiced, it might collapse after the first leg of the journey.
Lady Harlan's horse had the bloodline, yes, and the best feed and care—but Alex wasn't counting on its stamina.
So instead, he let it trot at a steady pace of around 10 kilometers per hour, planning to arrive at Saltpans by dusk the next day.
Saltpans was a port town without walls, meaning there'd be no trouble arriving after dark.
At noon, Alex stopped by a copse near the King's Road, using a slice of white bread for lunch and sipping ale sparingly—just twice to moisten his throat.
In a world where battle could come at any time, he couldn't afford dulled senses.
What? You ask why he didn't drink water?
In a time when no one thought to boil it first? He'd take watered ale any day. At least it wouldn't kill him.
After a brief rest, Alex resumed his journey.
He paid little attention to the passing scenery, focused solely on the road ahead.
Then, suddenly, he yanked the reins and stared intently down the road, muttering to himself—
"Where the hell… are we now?"
If you're enjoying the novel, please consider supporting me with Power Stones!
For every 50 Power Stones, I'll upload 5 bonus chapters as a thank-you!
Your support really motivates me to keep going, so please, please keep those Power Stones coming!