Edric was inside, sweat on his brow, hammer in hand, working a heated rod of iron into the early shape of a spearhead. The clang of steel on steel echoed in the small workshop. He didn't notice the riders until one of them stepped through the doorway and blocked the morning light.
"My lords"
"You Edric?" the man asked.
Edric wiped the sweat from his face, blinking against the glare. The man was tall, broad-shouldered, with a soldier's stance and a sword on his hip that hadn't seen rust in weeks. Behind him, the other men waited near their horses, quiet and watchful.
"I am," Edric said cautiously.
"He's Edric?! Could have fooled me, he's even taller than Robert."
The man stepped further in. "Ser Vardis Harlan spoke of you and your work. Lord Jon Arryn has sent for you."
Ser Vardis? The hedge knight I assume, Edric thought.
His back straightened, his posture squaring up. "He has?"
Behind the house, Torman's angry voice could already be heard as he stepped out of his own home, having caught wind of the strangers. Several of the villagers in Stonehaven peeked from their doors or stepped onto porches to watch.
Torman marched up the path, his hands smeared with ash and sweat. "You're taking my apprentice?" he demanded.
"Yes, by the orders of Lord Arryn."
Torman looked from the soldiers to Edric, his jaw clenching. "We need him here. Can't you see what he's done for this village? What he's done for his family? For us?"
From a nearby home, the shouting drew the attention of a small gathering. Some villagers paused their chores. Further up the path, Edric's father stepped out onto the stoop of their small, weatherworn home, wiping flour from his hands.
One of the men-at-arms moved between Torman and Edric, hand resting lightly on the hilt of his sword.
"No one's drawing blades today," the leader said calmly, glancing to Torman. "The boy is not to be taken by force. While lord Arryn's summons are a command, he will still be treated with respect. But make no mistake—he is leaving."
Edric didn't move. He stood rooted to the ground, hammer still in his hand, heart thudding in his chest. The air felt thick. For a moment, no one spoke.
Then his father stepped forward. "If the Lord of the Vale wants him… then it's not for us to stop it." He stated resigned. He was wise or simply not stupid to think so. Edric thought.
His father continued. "what can we do anyway?"
Torman swore under his breath and turned away, hands on his hips.
The soldier gave Edric a nod. "Gather your possessions and say your farewells. We ride withinthe hour boy."
Edric looked down at the hammer in his hand, then back at the faces of the villagers watching him. He gave a short nod. "Just give me a moment."
---
After collecting his things, which weren't much to begin with, he went to say farewell to his father and Torman.
His 6'9" frame pressed heavily against his father's much smaller 5'4" one in a bone crushing hug initiated by his father bear arms. They presently in the very house he had been born in where his mother had died and where he had lived all of his young second life, showing how much he had grown and the very present emotional bond between the two family members.
"Try and visit from time to time. Don't leave your old man all alone, son." the older man urged. "Even if this is the opportunity of a lifetime. Don't forget who you are or where you come from."
Edric chuckled. "I'll try, but I can't make any promises." he said before seperating himself from his progenitor and heading towards the smithy.
"See ya later Pops."
---
Torman, however, was far less emotional. "Ya want a hug or somethin'? Well ya ain't gettin none!"
Edric inquired expectantly. "Not even a single goodbye?"
"Betraying me for a lord, do you have no shame?!"
"Always so dramatic, no wonder no one believed you about my skills."
The old smith turned around arms crossed, before suddenly bursting out laughing.
When the sound coming from his throat died out, he took a deep breath before sighing, "I know this is quite the opportunity for ya lad, just sad you won't be with me is all. I'll miss workin with ya."
"You'll miss watching me work you mean," His former apprentice corrected with a smirk.
The older man laughed again not bothering to refute his apprentice's statement. "Well, the others are gonna miss ya too, no one knows how to make steel the way you did. Ya gave good 'em prices too. Welp... see ya, if we smallfolf don't become too unworthy to meet your eyes after being in the lordlings castle for too long."
Edric reasured him. "Don't you worry about that."
"Farewell Torman."
"Goodbye lad."
---
The road wound higher into the mountains, narrow and treacherous in places, with only the echo of hooves and the distant call of the overlords of the air to fill the silence. Edric rode in the middle of the group, seated on a spare bay gelding, its saddle, worn but serviceable. He wasn't used to riding for long stretches or even riding at all, and the ache in his thighs reminded him just how different this life would be.
The Vale spread below in sweeping vistas— grass and rock running as far as the eye could reach. But above, always above, looming on top of the world, sat the magnificent Eyrie, perched like an eagle's nest on a mountain peak. One of many mounds of earth and stone in a chain of immovable titanic natural structures stretching on past the horizon betraying a breath-taking scenery—a vue to die for in his past life. At times he could see it, pale and impossibly high, a refreshing glimmer of earthly origin in the dull white and blue that painted the afternoon sky.
The final leg was the worst. They left the horses at a small mountain holdfast, then climbed—steps carved into the stone, winding and steep, with sheer drops that made Edric's stomach twist. He kept his gaze forward, his breaths slow and steady.
By the time they reached the Gates of the Moon, dusk had already fallen. The moonlight touched the castle's walls, and torches flickered in the chill air. But the journey wasn't over. From there, they took mules up the mountain trail, narrow and winding, with freezing wind biting through his cloak.
At last, after hours of ascent, the Eyrie stood before him—silent, cold, and majestic. Its white towers reached toward the stars, the walls smooth and pale as bone. Guards in Arryn blue met them at the entrance, their expressions unreadable.
"You're the blacksmith boy?" one asked, studying him.
"I am," Edric answered, his voice steady despite the weariness clinging to him.
"Come then. Lord Arryn is expecting you."
And with that, Edric stepped into the moonlit halls of the Eyrie, leaving behind his life at Stonehaven for good.