Arya rides into Town

Serving Girl

While many of the townsfolk didn't want to speak to strangers, or each other in some cases, within the Black Moon Inn, there were no such acts of bashfulness. To Arya, it would've been reasonable to mistake Bitterbridge as a thriving town by the amount of ale and wine flowing, and the coin being spent.

The family had secured a compact room in the Inn for the night. Though the cost had caused the father to pale and mutter about how they would run out of money before reaching Oldtown.

Arya paid for her room while enquiring about work in the town. As she'd hoped the Innkeeper, a stereotypical rotund gentleman with a sweaty bald head desperately needed help in the main bar. Especially from pretty girls. Arya tried to look bashful and played down her experience when they asked her if she had served food before. She didn't mention her previous experience serving food to lascivious men who treated their women as mere playthings.

While the Black Moon Inn didn't fill Arya with as much hatred as had the Fray's castle, it was still a maze of horny men with grubby hands often snaking out to grab a handful of whatever they could. Arya was already adept of swinging her hips and legs in ways that could avoid as much of the groping as possible, but the dress she wore didn't afford her the agility she was used to. Each time a hand-stretched her way she imagined slicing off the fingers with her Valerian dagger. The only shame was that it was safely stowed in her room.

One middle-aged fat bastard, who managed to grab her hips and haul her into his lap, found his wrist twisted in a way he was sure was going to snap. Arya simply smiled, telling him if he ever touched her again she would break both his wrists like twigs. Before rising, she asked the others around the table if they needed any more drinks, and moved back among the crowd.

She didn't have any more trouble from the fat man and his friends for the rest of the night.

As Arya passed among the raucous tables, carrying giant tankards of frothing ale, she kept her ears open for information that might help her understand the situation in the town. When delivering bowls of steaming venison stew with thick lumps of vegetables, Arya would tarry for a few moments asking those at the table where they were from, and if they had any tales of the great war. She found it easy to play the innocent peasant girl, and easy to slide away if they were more interested in her body than conversation. Which was often the case.

There were some who treated her with a modicum of respect. Probably hoping their sparkling wit and tales of heroic deeds would charm her into their beds for the night. It was from those patrons she learned how dozens of Lannister soldiers were taking refuge in a town which afforded them protection and work. The work took the form of roaming the roads and rivers around the town to collect taxes from whoever they found. There were rumours that despite the defeat of the Night King, another winter would soon be upon them and unless food and supplied were hoarded the people would starve.

Winter returning, and the dead with them was a common theme Arya had heard while travelling in the south lands of Westeros. It was becoming evident that in Bitterbridge an enterprising leader was taking advantage of the fear such a rumour caused to line his own pockets. The new Lord in the castle served the Lord of Light and promised to defend the people when the dead walked again.

Few in these parts had seen the dragons fly or knew of King Bran. They just wanted to survive and be left alone.

"Be careful of that table." One of the other serving girls, Elsa, warned Arya as they both gathered trays of meat and bread. "Bastards the lot of them."

Arya glanced across the room to where her new friend pointed. Four serving girls took turns taking food and ale out to the customers or clearing and washing in the back. Most of the time, Arya was out paired with Elsa, a pretty blond girl who lived in the town with her mother.

After Elsa had seen how Arya handled the fat bastard who'd grabbed her, she'd demanded to learn how to do such a trick. Knowing the benefits of making a friend Arya had promised she would. Elsa had worked at the Inn for a few months. Her father had been killed in the war.

"They guard the gates, don't they?" Arya thought she recognised two of the men who'd forced the family to pay for their entry into the town.

"They all do." Elsa nodded, balancing the tray on her arm while gripping two medium-sized tankards in one hand. Arya had been impressed at how she managed to weave through the tables with heavy trays while deftly avoid getting groped. "The Bastards raped Fran. She used to work here. Won't leave her house now." They both passed through tables to the men and deposited their trays.

One of them turned and grinned at Arya, obviously recognising the girl while she remembered his disgusting yellowed and broken teeth. Even from a few feet away, she wanted to vomit as his rancid onion-laden breath reached her nose.

"I know this fine filly." His hands snaked out just as Arya was putting down the food she carried. She felt the hand grab her buttocks and gritted her teeth before smashing the plates onto the wooden table and trying to pull away. He held her in a firm grip. "How much are you then girl? Might get your family a few nights of free food if you come to my room and play."

"I don't think so." Arya spun around, and though his hand lost its grip on her behind, he still retained a hold on the material of her dress, stopping Arya from making a clean getaway. Elsa had moved away but came back to grab Arya's hand, trying to help.

"Take your hands off her Baldus." Elsa hissed.

"Are you going to make me?" The rotten toothed man cackled, and the three others joined in the laughter.

"Maybe we could treat Little Elsa here." One of the others said. "Like we did her friend."

Elsa stepped over to the man and slapped him across his pocked marked face. A grin was replaced by a snarl Arya knew meant trouble. The man rose to his full six feet in height, flexing his arms inside his brown leather tunic as if to emphasise his strength.

Elsa shrank back.

"You're going to fucking regret that girl."

"Not here Franco." Another of the men, dark-skinned and with a shaved head, nodded to the patrons looking around at the commotion. "Settle it another time." The dark-skinned man winked at his pockmarked friend. Arya realised the one named Baldus had let go of her skirt allowing her to back away.

Both girls hurried back to the serving station.

"I shouldn't have done that." Elsa's voice was panicked, and Arya could see she was shaking.

"He deserved it."

"You don't understand." The girl collapsed onto a chair just inside the kitchen. "They own this town, they can take what they want."

"But they didn't do anything."

"They won't. Not here." Elsa shook her head. "This place makes too much money for the Lord. He won't have trouble here, or anywhere public. But they know where I live. They'll want to deliver a lesson."

"A lesson?" Though Arya could already imagine what sort of lesson those bastards might want to teach.

"You've got to do what you are told here." Elsa glanced around as though expecting someone to overhear. "The Lord demands so much of us, and if we don't deliver, we get taught a lesson."

"Not a pleasant one, I presume."

"They take what they want here Arya. If I were you, I'd get your family away in the morning and never come back. I shouldn't have hit him." Elsa buried her hands in her face.

Arya wrapped an arm around her shoulders. She hadn't told Elsa the truth about her origins. "Don't worry about them. Cowardly bastards. Once someone stands up to them, they'll piss themselves."

"No one will."

"You might be surprised." Arya patted her on the back. "Come on, Helga is shouting at us to get back to work. Don't worry Elsa they won't touch you, I promise."

As Arya continued serving, she kept her eye on Baldus and his henchmen. They seemed settled in for a heavy session of drinking even when others were leaving. The one named Franco would keep looking at Elsa and whispering to his friend. Arya could imagine what disgusting things they were talking about.

When it came time for the Inn to close, Arya took Elsa aside and whispered her plans.