Soldiers and unruly commoners who had seen a dead dragon's head naturally no longer entertained any illusions of the so-called "dragon king" being a "god."
Earl Unwin Peake, a survivor of the "Briars," paid no attention to such trifles.
Lord Unwin, who had failed to leave his likeness intact on the mountainside at Starpike, was still sticking to his original plan:
He offered a reward of a thousand gold dragons to any noble knight who could ride Silverwing.
Three knights stepped forward to try.
Two were sworn knights of House Peake. The first lost an arm, and the next was burned alive.
The third knight came to his senses amid the temptation of gold dragons and a mighty dragon as his rewards, and decided to reconsider.
He lacked the guts of House Peake's knights, but escaped the jaws of the increasingly angry dragon with his life...
With a little regret at being unable to visit the relics of his forebears, Titus soon put nearby Tumbleton out of his mind.
He led his party off House Tyrell's flower boat, across the long wooden planks of the dock, and up to the castle settlement of Bitterbridge.
While many of the boats behind them were still waiting to dock, Titus planned to find somewhere to settle his own men first.
Bitterbridge's castle was built of wood and stone. Neither its footprint nor its bulk was particularly large, and its towers were not lofty. Only because the surrounding countryside was flat and open did it look considerably taller than it really was.
Beside the towers stood a smithy, its front and rear buildings connected.
Titus sent Bowen to ask whether there were enough rooms for them to rest in, while Parker and Wenda directed the remaining men in leading the horses ashore and carrying the baggage.
The rulers of Bitterbridge were House Caswell, whose arms depicted a yellow centaur galloping with a drawn bow.
Who knew whether they or House Fossoway, descendants of the "Archer," were better shots?
Before long, Bowen returned with good news: there were enough rooms.
He was an excellent communicator, with two great assets: the savage face of a thuggish soldier, and the silver coins Titus had given him.
Titus did not concern himself with how much Bowen had spent, how much he had pocketed, or how he had negotiated. A quarter of an hour later, he and his three captains and deputies had moved into warm stone rooms.
The other members of the guard would pitch tents around the stone house, making it easy to act together and provide protection close at hand.
In an excellent mood at the prospect of sleeping indoors in warmth that night, Titus called over the owner of the house, the smith of Bitterbridge, and tipped him another few silver stags.
Many visitors had come from the south, including no shortage of nobles from great houses.
The castle here was simply too small, so the Caswells had not prepared a feast. After coming out to receive Earl Redwyne as the nobles' representative, they merely sent plenty of food to the other houses' people at sunset.
Titus ate a little and went to bed early.
Early the next morning, a bout of shouting and abuse woke him.
He tidied himself up briefly, joined Parker and the other two, and went from the dwelling at the back to the smithy at the front, where he saw a scrawny old fellow... all right, he could only be called a skinny "little runt," berating a tall, strapping young man.
One was short and the other tall, making for a rather comical sight.
He soon understood what had happened. The smith from yesterday had forged a knight's sword for his son-the strapping youth being berated-as a gift for his sixteenth Name Day.
Somehow, the scrawny little bastard now doing the berating had spotted it. Perhaps out of some jealousy toward the strapping youth, he had launched this one-sided torrent of abuse.
The little bastard was in fine form and had not noticed Titus and the others emerge. He was still barking at the top of his lungs, "... your hands were never fit to hold a sword. They're only fit to swing your father's hammer..."
Bowen was quick on the uptake. He went outside to ask around, then returned to report that the abusive little bastard was named Lorent Caswell, the heir to Bitterbridge.
The smith's son was a big, strapping fellow, at least twice as sturdy as Lorent Caswell, but the difference in their stations left him cowering like a duck under the latter's furious abuse.
But Titus noticed that as the insults grew nastier and gradually began to involve his father, anger steadily mounted in the eyes of the smith's son, who had a tousled head of orange hair.
Once it reached a critical point, he would erupt on the spot.
"Now, the most important thing about being a lord is enjoying yourself. When dealing with the commoners on your lands, you can do whatever you please. That's how unrestricted it is-you take whatever you want..."
Titus shared with his three captains his insights into being a lord who refused to play by the rules.
Parker and Bowen naturally did not mind. Wenda frowned slightly, seemingly having other thoughts, only to hear Titus abruptly change tack:
"... but a lord of some little place like Caswell ought to show respect before someone stronger. What gives his family the right to build their enjoyment on the quality of my sleep?"
Before Wenda could look astonished, Titus had already stepped forward, raised his leg, and kicked Lorent Caswell in the waist.
She hurried forward and, together with Parker, restrained the two Bitterbridge guards Lorent Caswell had brought, who stood by the door.
Titus had not used much force. The insult of the act outweighed the actual harm, but the frail Lorent Caswell still staggered and fell.
He did not yet know that, frail as the boy was, he was also a knight-Lorent had served as squire to his own father... the least impressive way to become a knight.
Old Caswell had four daughters and only this one precious son. He had indulged him far too much since childhood, leaving Lorent spoiled and arrogant. He tolerated not the slightest defiance near his own castle, and none of the other squires dared touch a hair on his head.
Today, his luck had truly come rolling in: he had encountered a human-shaped runaway wagon from the Dornish Marches.
"Didn't your mother tell you to apologize when you bump into someone?"
Turning the facts completely upside down with his false accusation, Titus, who claimed to have been "bumped into," stood straight-backed where he was and looked down at Lorent, who had just sat up with both hands braced on the ground behind him.
Accustomed to having his own way, Lorent recovered and opened his mouth, apparently about to redirect his foul words at someone else.
Titus gave Lorent no chance to spew abuse. With a flick of his scabbard, he struck him squarely across the mouth with its tip. Blood instantly filled Lorent's mouth, staining everything below his nose red.
[Westerosi profanity]
My mouth!
My precious scabbard!
Ignoring the heir to Bitterbridge, who covered his mouth and wept in pain, Titus paid the price for his moment of impulsiveness.
He tossed his silver-plated holly scabbard to a bewildered Parker and urged:
"Parker, hurry and wash it. This fellow's mouth is filthy."
Captain Parker said nothing, taking the sheathed Orphan-Maker away to rinse it.
"Bowen, take this useless wretch back to old Caswell. Tell him that, out of respect for him, I won't demand compensation this time. Ask him to discipline his son properly from now on... oh, and no need to thank me."
Only then did he take a small white handkerchief from the thoughtful deputy captain Wenda and, feeling rather disgusted, wipe the blood from his fingers.
It had been purely a reflex. The other fellow's posture had been too perfect, the strike too easy, and some blood had splashed between his fingers.
Toward the smith and his son, whose home he was staying in, Titus was pleasant and genial. He picked up the knight's sword that had caused the trouble, examined it, and praised its fine workmanship.
Ever since old Master Bryant, the smith of Starpike, had passed away, it had been a long time since he had seen such excellent craftsmanship...
Bitterbridge and the centaur:
Before you continue