Stoney Sept

[Ollie]

Ser Lewys meets the prisoner's hand and returns the firm shake. "Good man, Clarke."

Turning back to the master of the Stoney Sept, the 'crow' dips his head. "Murderer or no, the Night's Watch needs men. I'll take him with me, along with the rest of this lot."

[Horas]

The prisoners let out a collective whoop at the news that they will not be executed. Clarke grins silently.

The knight frowns dubiously. "Well... If you think you can keep them in line, I'll not refuse you. When will you be leaving?"

[Ollie]

"Tomorrow, I think," he replied, crossing his arms across his chest as he gave the men a final look. "I'll fetch them in the morning."

[Horas]

The next morning the prisoners are brought out into the light of day, each man shackled in a line to the next.

"I hope you and your brothers can make the most of them," the master of the Stoney Sept says.

[Ollie]

Ser Lewys, dressed in a clean set of blacks, grips the knight's hand and shakes it firmly. "Thanks for your aid, Ser Axel. We'll make good use out of 'em."

Leading the prisoners by a short chain, the young Waxley marches the seven men out the northern gates of Stoney Sept. They walk for a time, entering the heavily forested foothills between Pinkmaiden, Stoney Sept, and Acron Hall. Suddenly, Lewys halts, and turns back to the men in his charge. He regards them for a long moment, before a smug smile dawns on his face.

"So gents, the Wall be a frigid place, fit for no right man. Should we have them chains off then?" he asks, picking out the silent Clarke in line and unlocking his shackles first. "You know what's going on, right?"

[Horas]

Clarke rubs his wrists, then nods. Clarke makes a grasping motion with his hand, then points at Lewys' sword, his head cocked in the manner of one who is asking a question.