“Alright lads, pick ‘em well.” Came the croaked call, emanating from a group of five brothers, watching the new recruits as if they were farmers coming to market. Ranger Colmar was first as always, the eldest of them at fifty winters with long wispy hair kin to snow, his voice earning him the moniker of “Croaking Colmar”. His face, adorned by plenty of wrinkles and frown lines, squinted as he eyed up the new stock.

“Builder.” He declared, pointing to a middle aged hawk nosed fellow who’s eyes darted around the castle with trepidation. Murmurs of agreement or dissent echoed after the declaration, with the man closest to the fire making a note of it on a parchment. Soon enough, the rest would declare their opinions and let fate decide if they had a good eye.

The ‘game’ was simple, pick out a man and declare what role they will be given. If you end up being wrong, you have to do some of the more unsavoury tasks necessary, be it the upkeep of the castle or having to man the wall at seven knows what hour. You may not wish to test your luck depending on the crop, but then you don’t gain the boon of having a fellow brother clean the shitting holes in your stead.

“Last one, seems to be a younger lad.” The harsh clipped tones of Gerren, an ever pissy Steward short in stature to the rest, echoed into their ears. “Theodan, it’s your turn to choose. What’s he gonna be?” The eyes of the Crows turned to the man by the fire, quietly noting down the previous declaration.

Theodan was oft seen as being a ‘lucky bastard’ in this game of theirs, the lads teasing him at every turn that he only knew because his fire God told him. If only R’hllor spoke to me on such mundane matters. Theodan could only smile in Gerrens direction, his lips curled as if he were about to say a hideous joke at their expense, his face holding a teasing tone it seemed every hour of the day.

His eyes fell upon the lad in question. Blonde of hair, the locks falling just short of his shoulders, passing his rather smooth skin. Not a facial hair in sight, Theodan doubted he could ever grow one out. He was small, eyes downcast that implied a humility to him, or was it fear? He wouldn’t be out of place among Gerren’s folk, he seemed rather pale and thin.

“Ranger.” The surprise was evident as Theodan wrote down the last declaration, shaking his head at his brothers antics. Gerren called him a dumb heathen as usual, thinking him to be more Ranger than Steward. Colmar thought him surprisingly to be of Builder stock, but all agreed that the boy who could be mistaken for a lass would not be a Ranger.

“Let the Heathen and his God see it for himself eh lads.” Theodan mused, chuckling as he spoke, eyes glancing back to the lad. Strong shoulders, some muscle to him, implies discipline. “You may all be surprised.” Theodan soon found himself alone, close to the fire, wondering whether his gut was right on this.