The Warg Lord (ASOIAF)(SI)

[LazyWizard]

"No...It's humans." Jon replied nonchalantly while slurping the soup remaining in his bowl, but his words had the immediate effect of freezing Sam as all the excitement drained from his body.


Sam gathered himself a few seconds later and then hastened to tie the knots on his armour as fast as he could. He fumbled a few times but a minute later he was strapped and secure in the sturdy armour he had carried all the way from Winterfell.


His sweaty hands curled around the handle of the axe and the small shield as his eyes anxiously turned left and right to scout for the unknown assailants. While Sam had somewhat gotten used to fighting other people, that was only when he was in bouts with known friendly faces.


This would be the first time he could potentially have a life-and-death battle. Safe to say he was just an inch away from crapping his pants.


"Don't worry so much, Sam," Jon suddenly comforted after seeing Sam fidgeting like a deer, "We may not necessarily have to fight them... they could just be some friendly strangers coming for a talk."


But Sam wasn't naive enough to believe that...


They were in the middle of nowhere surrounded on all sides by tall yellow grass and Disputed Lands, one of the most dangerous places in Essos was just a day's ride away. The only way someone could stumble on them here would be if they were intentionally seeking them out after noticing the smoke from their fire... and people rarely seek strangers in the Essosi wilderness with good intentions.


But the false consolation nonetheless did its job of calming him and steadying his shaky grip. He just needed to remind himself that he would be safe as long Jon was here.


"H-How many are there?"


"Hmm... Four and a half," Jon answered after thinking for a few seconds.


"Four and a half?"


"You'll see," Jon shrugged but didn't explain any further, so Sam took a deep breath and stopped looking around. He knew that Jon would let him know as soon as they were close enough so he stilled his eyes and began counting in his head to pass the time and soothe his psyche.


On the other hand, having finished his meal, Jon too began to prepare. He put away all the utensils back into the luggage, so that they don't break, and began taking out his weapons to place them by the side of the rock he was sitting on. Now usually, he only carried a bastard sword and a bow as his main weapon but this time he had one extra thing prepared.


Since Jon didn't have any armour other than the sturdy leather jacket he was wearing, that was the only preparation he needed. So he took a small pointed dagger and a whetstone and began to sharpen it while sitting on the rock in front of the fire.


Sam had counted to about 200 when he finally heard the expected footsteps he was waiting for.


They were light enough that he wouldn't have heard them over the wind if he wasn't paying such close attention. The steps stopped just at the edge of the clearing out of their sight and then there was complete silence for a few seconds... before they suddenly heard a whisper.


"I... I think they already know about us..."


"Of course, they do," a voice replied snarkily and loudly, "Can't you see the fat boy sweating under his armour,"


Sam would have been normally offended at that if he wasn't so scared since he had really put in a lot of work and was now a lot skinnier than before.


"No point hiding then..." an aged voice calmly replied and the grass in front of them rustled and swayed as four adult men came out into the clearing carrying various arrays of smirks on their faces.


Of the four of them, two were middle-aged men in their forties, one was an old man pushing sixties and the last one seemed to be in his twenties. All of them carried a long sword at their waists except for the oldest one who had a spear in his hand and a bow on his back.


Their eyes and hair colourings were varied but all of them had sunburnt skin, unwashed hair, beat-up armour and well-worn weapons. All in all their appearance simply screamed sellswords. And each one of them had a similar marking of a helmet and a shield on their breasts.


"How may we help you, my friends," Jon calmly asked while looking up but he didn't get up from his seat nor did he stop sharpening the dagger in his hands, as if he was meeting them in an inn instead of in the wilderness.


The sellswords exchanged amused glances with each other at coming across such a young, stupid and naive target, before the youngest one of them replied arrogantly, "You can help us by leaving all your stuff behind and Fucking off!!" the man had a thick local accent but even Sam who wasn't so proficient in High Valariyan could clearly understand his intentions.


"Salov!" the oldest one with a smattering of white hair on his head rebuked gently while leaning on his spear, "You can't be so rude," he shook his head disappointedly at him before turning to Jon with a very fake smile, "I apologize for my friend here, you see he's a bit cranky because of his hunger since we haven't had a good meal in days... I am sure you understand..."


"Of course," Jon nodded with an understanding expression, "I would be ashamed to call myself Westerosi if I don't show you proper hospitality. Please, take a seat, I am sure we still have enough food for you to fill your stomach..."


But none of the sellswords moved to accept the offer and neither did they take their hands off their weapons, "Ah so you're from Westeros," the guy with the spear said in a surprised tone, "That's perfect. I have heard many times how people in Westeros are all very rich... and we just happen to be in somewhat of a pinch money-wise... You wouldn't mind also giving us your gold, would you?" he finished with an insincere smile.


"And... I want that sword of his," one of the middle-aged sellswords piped while pointing at the sword lying beside Jon.


"Fine. Then I want that fatso's axe and his armour too. God knows, I would make much better use of it considering how clean it is, I bet the boy's never even been in a fight." the youngest scoffed while adding in his two bits.


The sellswords wanted to loot them without putting in the work.


"My friends are very demanding," The oldest one continued with a fake apologetic smile when he saw an impassive expression on Jon's face, "But I am sure it shouldn't be much of a problem with your... generosity,"


Sam was nervously watching, hoping that it wouldn't end up in a disaster, but from the greed in the sellsword's eyes and the look on Jon's face, it was a hope in vain. As Sam was waiting for the stone to drop into the puddle, he suddenly heard a faint rustle of the grass behind the sellswords and looked up to find a head peeking out.


He was almost in despair at finding another enemy when Sam actually looked closely and realised that the new individual was maybe not a part of this group, at least not willingly.


First of all, he was too young, the boy barely looked sixteen or seventeen years old. He had blonde hair and striking blue eyes and he would have even looked pretty if not for the... condition he was in.


The boy was in bad shape, he had bruises all over his face and his body, his clothes were muddy and were torn here and there, and most importantly his hands were tied behind his back and he was completely barefoot, which was almost a death sentence in this wilderness unless you were a Dothraki. But even with the state he was in, there was still a defiant look on the boy's face as he looked into the clearing to see the exchange between Jon and his captors.


"I didn't know beggars were so brazen in Essos," Jon finally shot back with an amused smile on his face which froze the expression on the old man's face, "You're quite bad at begging, my friends. I think you should hit the city streets, you'll have much better luck there than out here."


"Ha ha, that is a very funny joke," the old man, who seemed to be the leader, said with a stiff smile, "But I could easily get offended by this... and you don't want that, do you?"


"Oh, I am sure I'll manage,"


"Argh! Enough of this farce, Uncle!" The youngest named Salov interrupted impatiently, "Let's just gut the pretty boy right here and be done with this."


The old man sighed, "You're too reckless, Salov. I was just hoping to make it simpler before we do..."


Jon ignored the sellswords for a moment and turned his head towards the teen prisoner with a curious look on his face, "And what about you, boy? Who are you?"


The boy was shocked to be suddenly called out and replied unconsciously, "I-I am Bran!"


"Are you with them?" Jon asked and suddenly he didn't know why but he got an urge to spread his mind to scout the mind of the boy and he was very thankful that he followed the urge because what he found in the boy shocked him.


"You're from the North!!" Jon stated rather than asking as while the boy had none of the typical looks of a Northerner, the makeup of his mind was telling him a completely different story.


The boy's eyes widened in shock, "H-How did you know—" Bran's question was interrupted with a harsh slap from Salov, the young sellsword, who was irritated at being ignored.


"Who gave you the fucking permission to come out and run your mouth, boy!" Salov asked, and then gave another slap, "Didn't I tell you to stay put, Huh?"


"Enough, Salov," The leader intervened half-heartedly when it looked like Salov would go on, "You already vented your anger on the boy's face earlier. If you slap him more, even his father wouldn't be able to recognise him. Who would we ransom him to then?"


"Who cares," Salov scoffed flippantly, "If not his father, then we can just find a slaver to sell him. The brat's pretty enough to still fetch us a good price," he mocked with a hint of envy.


"You're hopeless, boy," The old man shook his head helplessly, "But then again you're not wrong. But if we're going to sell him to a slaver anyway, then we may as well capture these two alive. We'll get a far better deal with all three in a package,"


"Oh! I can promise to leave them alive," Salov said with a malicious grin as all of them put their hands on their weapon while spreading out, "But they may lose a finger or two... you know I just can't stop myself when I get going."


"Just... don't ruin this one's face," the uncle advised while jerking his head towards Jon, "I think they'll pay a premium for him in Lys—"


"That's enough out of you," Jon abruptly cut him off, "Him! Him! And Him!" he said pointing towards the older three sellswords with the dagger in his hand, "Sam, I'll take the three of them so can you take care of the loudmouth one."


"I-I guess, but—"


"Excellent then—"


"HAHAHA!!" All four of the sellswords burst out laughing simultaneously at that. It took a while before the oldest one controlled his chuckles and was able to speak, "H-How are you so delusional boy? You think—"


That was the last thing the man said as he was abruptly cut off by a simple jerk of Jon's right hand. One moment the dagger was in Jon's right hand and in the next, it was buried deep into the left eye of the man who had been cackling just a moment ago.


"Hmm... seems the target training was useful..." Jon commented casually as he finally stood up from his seat while picking a sword with his left hand, but instead of the usual bastard sword, he decided to use another weapon this time. This new weapon was also technically a sword but it was much thinner with a pointed tip making it much more suited for stabbing rather than slashing.


The sellswords were still shell-shocked by the sudden death of their leader and it was only when he fell, headfirst into the ground like a puppet without his strings, did they managed to come out of their shock and react.


"Y-You Bastard!!"


"How dare you!!"


"I'll kill you!!"


Jon smoothly shifted his stance sideways making his body as small of a target as possible with his head facing the sellswords, he then beckoned the incensed mercenaries mockingly, "Come then, let us get this over with..."


"Argh!!"


All three of them attacked Jon simultaneously in their anger and instead of backing away like a normal person, he plunged straight into their midst giving them very little room to attack. Jon was weaving between the slashes of the sellswords, like a fish in water, he was constantly making them run into each other and leaving them disoriented as they tried not to attack their comrades.


And while Jon could easily handle the three of them on his own and even kill them. That wasn't his intention, otherwise, he would have bought out the bow instead of this new weapon.


"Sam! What are you waiting for!!"


"Y-Yes!!" Sam stammered a reply and after taking a deep breath, rushed straight for the youngest sellswords Jon had pointed towards with his axe raised to strike, "Ahh!!"


"Tsk!" Salov clicked his tongue irritatedly at the disruption but nonetheless backed away from Jon to take on Sam, "It doesn't matter I'll deal with you after I kill the fatso... if you're still alive by then—"


"I AM NOT FAT!!!" Sam roared as he attacked the young sellsword with a surprising amount of ferocity that almost took Salov off-guard before he managed to gather himself and started taking the boy seriously.


The initial exchanges were somewhat dangerous but before long Sam began to fall into the familiar rhythm that he had practised countless times every single day since he met Jon. His combat instincts took over and he began to attack and defend against the sellswords' attacks like a well-oiled machine, much to Salov's frustration.


"Argh! Just die already!"


On the other side, Jon was having a much easier time handling his opponents than Sam even though he was dealing with two much more older and experienced sellswords. Mostly because, while the two sellswords had good battle instincts and were overall good at coordinating with each other, their attack reeked of someone who's never had any kind of systematic training.


Their stances were all over the place and their attacks had a lack of intricacy and forethought put into them. Every single slash of theirs was straightforward and aimed to either kill or maim and while it could take down most amateurs, anyone who had trained under a good master at arms could easily neutralise them.


That is also why he decided to try the newest addition to his arsenal, the Braavosi sword in this fight. He wanted to try out the new techniques of water dance, that he had been trying to learn (steal) ever since he had set foot in Braavos, in a real battle. And what better place to practise a new technique than in front of two sellswords


Jon already considered himself quite a fast hand with the sword, of course, he was not quite yet at the level of the likes of Ser Barristan and Jamie Lannister, but he could definitely call his speed first tier. But it was only now, when he actually used the light thin sword of Braavos, that he comprehended how fast he could be.


He was swaying in and out of the attacks like a lithe cat. His right hand was always primed like a coiled snake and when he found an opening his sword sprung like a snake to poke holes in the bodies of his enemies. Only a few seconds into the battle, Jon could say with absolute certainty that the water dance was a far better style for him when dealing with lightly armed enemies than his usual Westersoi style of hacking and slashing.


Now, normally he wouldn't have been able to easily learn the water dance as it requires you not only to spend countless hours practising it like the other styles, but it also has very stringent requirements for the user's body.


Their body needs to be thin but strong, they need to be able to wield their sword as though it is part of the arm and to see with all their senses. And instead of the usual power muscles, they need an entirely different set that focuses more on speed, balance and grace, muscles that would improve their flexibility and allow them to move and react like a cat.


Jon's body was filled with a set of perfectly sculpted muscles rippling with power, they were the result of almost a decade of hard exercise and a regulated diet to compress the maximum power and speed possible. It would be astronomically foolish of him to discard all that to train anew for this water dance.


Thankfully even without a compatible body, Jon was still able to find a workaround and adequately use the Water Dance by relying on the one skill that he had been perfecting since he was three years old. The skill to use his mind to predict, to have foresight into the opponent's attack before they execute them.


The water dance required you to be as fast as the wind and intuitively move your body unnaturally to dodge enemy weapons and poke holes in your opponent's vulnerabilities. Jon could simply circumvent this by shifting his body preemptively into a proper stance before the opponent even makes a move.


The benefits of the Water Dance were clearly visible only a minute into the battle as the two sellswords were already bleeding all over from small holes made by the slender sword. Jon specially targeted joints like their elbows and their hands, making them all the more sluggish and close to death.


The sellswords were deeply regretting their decision to fight and were cursing their now-dead leader for getting them into this decision. They were not even trying to put on a fight now and were just looking for a chance to back off and run away. But, unfortunately for them, Jon didn't have any intention to let them run away and was forcefully keeping them locked in a battle with him.


From the very beginning of the fight, Jon had kept more than half of his attention on Sam's side of the battle to make sure that nothing went wrong there. And while he himself may not be quick enough to help him in case Sam is in any kind of danger. His friend, Forst, flying up in the sky could easily help him in a pinch with her swiftness.


But what really surprised Jon was how well Sam was actually holding on, in fact, he was doing more than just holding on, he was defending when he needed to and even attacking whenever there was a chance.


The young sellsword named Salov was sporting an ugly look on his face and already had a few deep gashes over his body courtesy of the axe in Sam's hand. And it wasn't like the sellsword didn't have a chance to cut the boy back, because he did but it's just that unlike him, the boy had armour and a shield in his hands, which was too unfair.


And while Jon could see that Sam was doing good, he could also notice that he wasn't landing a decisive strike even though he already had few chances to. Which was annoying but understandable considering his age and inexperience.


Jon knew that Sam would eventually win the bout, either due to the stamina or the injuries, but he wasn't satisfied with a pyrrhic victory like that as it would make this unnecessarily prolonged fight useless. So Jon decided to...meddle.


The next time Jon saw Sam about to falter and waste an opening to end the battle, he immediately intervened.


"Sam!! Downwards Slash! NOW!!" Jon's thunderous voice was like an unquestionable command and Sam whose body had been heavily conditioned to follow Jon's voice during their bouts, executed it instinctively.


His hand didn't even hesitate and the axe flicked across the familiar trajectory to deposit itself straight into the jugular of the surprised sellsword. Both the sellsword and Sam had an equal amount of disbelief in their eyes at the sudden end of their fight before Salov gurgled something like, "M-My Father—Ugh" and fell to the ground with deep regrets in his eyes.


Seeing Salov getting killed, the two sellswords knew that they were next and tried to plead.


"Wait!! Don't—"


But Jon didn't care to listen to their begging and killed both of them without wasting any more time. A simple quick stab to an eye and the neck did the trick. Jon was sheathing his sword and moving towards Sam before their bodies even fell.


"Are you fine, Sam,"


"Hoooh, Hoooh..." Sam nodded and then shook his head as an answer. He was kneeling on the ground and breathing and heaving as if he was about to vomit. His eyes were wide with panic as they stared towards the face of the sellsword he killed. It was easy to see that he was in shock over the first human life he had taken.


"It's fine, Sam. He wasn't a good person. You did nothing wrong..." Jon murmured while obstructing the boy's view of the body so that it wouldn't give him nightmares. Jon knew it was a cruel and unpleasant thing to do especially considering his age but it was an unpleasant world so it would have happened sooner or later. And it was far better for it to have happened in a controlled environment with him nearby than with him alone during a dangerous battle.


A few minutes later, after Sam had calmed down enough to drink some water, Jon finally stood up and turned towards the last member of the group who was still alive.


The blond teen was slowly trying to sneak away when Jon called him with a smile, "Now, Now. don't be scared. I just want to know, who you are and Where you are from?"

 

[ATP]

Few more fights like that,and Sam could come back to his father and become knight.
Or not,if he do not want.

rapier against sword - as long as enemy do not have schield or good armour,rapier always win.

 

[LazyWizard]

"...I just want to know who you are and where you're from?"


Jon's voice immediately made the boy freeze in his tracks. He gulped while slowly turning his head with a look of dread on his face as if he was about to be punished for trying to sneak away. Bran had hoped to get away from here while the two of them were distracted but it seemed that he was just too unlucky and the boy named Jon had spotted him.


"Don't worry, Bran. We are not going to hurt you," Jon said soothingly with his hands raised away from his sword. He also stopped some distance away from him to not scare the already terrified boy even more, "I just want to know where you're from, Bran,"


"I-I don't have a fixed home..." The boy answered hesitatingly, his eyes going from Jon to Sam, ready to sprint at any hint of violence, "B-But I used to live in Pentos when I was little..."


"Pentos? Really..." Jon asked with a hint of confusion in his tone, "But 'Bran' doesn't seem like a Pentosi name, does it... Are you sure, you're not from the North?"


"Er... Why do you keep asking that, Jon?" Sam suddenly intervened while getting up and walking over to stand beside Jon. The boy from Reach was still a little less queasy but felt much better after drinking some water, but he made sure not to look directly towards the dead bodies, nonetheless, for his stomach's sake. "The boy doesn't look like a Northerner to me?" Sam had spent quite many a months in the North so he could say with certainty that he could recognise a Northerner anywhere with their distinct accent, their constant gruffiness and their pale looks, and as far as he knew blond hair and blue eyes weren't Northern traits.


"He may not look like it..." Jon replied quietly while looking at the boy with an intense look in his eyes, "But he's definitely got the blood of the first men in him..."


While there were still some people with the First Men's blood alive in the other six kingdoms, like the Dayne's, the Blackwoods or the Mountain Men of the Vale, statistically speaking, if you find one here all the way in Essos, then most probably he is a Northerner instead of originating from those small pockets of people.


But Jon's scrutinizing gaze was making the boy shiver, which Sam noticed and he decided to intervene before his friend made the boy piss in his pants. "You may be right, Jon... But I think it would be better if we release his binds and get him warm before asking him any more questions..."


Jon was startled out of his thoughts before he looked at the boy and nodded his head, "Of course, You're right, Sam," he said before looking toward the boy with an apologetic look, "I am sorry, Bran. I was being too hasty," The boy just mutely shook his head at his apology, "Right, then! Sam, you take care of his binds and give him some water while I take care of the...er...bodies..."


"Sure," Sam replied quickly. He was happy as long as he wasn't the one who would have to deal with the bodies.


....


A few minutes later, Jon arrived back into the clearing with Peggy after taking care of the corpses. He had deposited them somewhere far enough that the smell wouldn't lure any wild animals to their camp. He didn't find anything worth taking off the Sellswords but he still brought back some miscellaneous things that may help Bran, things like a sword, a bow, some clothes, a pair of shoes and some local currency, among other things.


The boy looked a lot calmer now, as Sam seemed to have fed him the last remaining soup in the pot and some jerky. He was now seated on a rock on the other side of the fire and was gurgling water from their water pouch like a man who had been parched for days(which he probably was).


Only when the pouch was almost empty of water did Bran lower it with a distinct look of relief on his face, "Ah! That hit the spot—" he stopped midsentence and fell silent when he noticed that Jon had arrived back from his excursion. Unlike Sam, whom he had gotten familiar with in the last half hour, he was still a bit scared of Jon. After all, he had seen him demolish three skilled sellswords like it was nothing, and what was scarier was that he looked even younger than him.


"Was it good?" Jon asked amusedly while raising his eyebrow towards the pouch after seeing the boy suddenly going quiet from embarrassment.


"Oh... yes, it was the sweetest water I have ever tasted..." The boy answered with a shy smile on his face before his eyes suddenly widened as he looked down at the almost empty pouch in his hands, "Shit! I finished all your water," he burst out with a stricken look of guilt on his face. Water was a very precious commodity around these parts, and he knew how stupid it was for him to chug so much of it as he did.


"It's fine," Jon waved away Bran's worries with an unbothered smile while taking a seat beside Sam, "You can drink as much as you want, after all, we can always get some more..."


"But how..." Bran mumbled the question with a confused look on his face because as far as he knew there was no source of clean water nearby and the closest river was at least two days distance away by horse.


"Don't worry about it," echoed Jon and Sam simultaneously with identical smiles on their faces at his curious look, and Bran let it go.


There was a few minutes of awkward silence after that but before long Bran became uncomfortable with the curiosity in Jon's eyes and decided to speak up, "Um... When you were talking about North earlier... asking if I hail from there..." He began while receiving encouraging nods from Jon, "Well... were you talking about the North of Westeros... The one with Starks and the Hornwoods—"


"Yes! That's exactly the one I was talking about," Jon confirmed with a pleased look on his face, "In fact, I myself am the son of a Stark..." he said pointing at himself.


"You are?" Bran echoed with a look of shocked awe on his face, "B-But I thought the Starks were the Lords of Winterfell... If you are a Stark then why are you out here all alone with just the two of you..." Bran's mind couldn't comprehend why someone so important would roam this dangerous wilderness with no guards with him.


"Oh! You misunderstood... I have the blood of the Starks but I am not the heir. You see, I am a bastard so I don't carry the Stark name and am not really important enough to have guards—" Sam scoffed at that, "—so I don't have too many restrictions on where I can go." He finished with a shrug.


"Is that so..." Bran nodded with a confused look towards Sam wondering why he scoffed at Jon calling himself unimportant. He kept feeling that these two helpful strangers he was lucky enough to meet in the wilderness were just too mysterious.


"So you really are from North?" Sam asked curiously, bringing the conversation back to the main topic. He was still a bit sceptical and kept looking at Bran with a scrutinising gaze trying to find any hint of Northerness in the boy.


"I-I think so..." Bran answered hesitatingly, "Or at least that is what my father told me... He always told me that we are Northerners by blood..."


"I remember those sellswords mentioning something about ransoming you to your father for money," Jon said with a frown on his face, "If you tell us the name of your father and where he is, maybe we can help—"


"No! They were wrong!" The boy suddenly shouted startling Jon and Sam, "I repeatedly told them that m-my father is not rich at all but they didn't believe me and just beat me up," he rambled anxiously, "I am not lying! you would really not make much gold from ransoming me, so please—"


"Calm down, Bran," Jon interrupted the worried boy calmly but firmly, "You are mistaken. I just wanted to know your father's name and where he is to see if we can find him and help you reach him... that's all." Jon explained with a shrug, "Besides, we are rich enough that I don't think we need to ransom kids to earn money." Sam snorted at the massive understatement about how rich they were.


"Oh..." Bran said, his eyes jumping from Jon to Sam, looking closely at the young faces in front of him and only after seeing the clear eyes with no lies did he breathe a sigh of relief, "That's good, then... Umm, I am sorry for doubting you... It's just..."


"No, I understand," Jon said nodding thoughtfully, "After what you've been through... you're bound to be a little wary..."


"T-Thank you..." Bran replied gratefully, "I have heard many tales of how Northerners all simple folks," he continued scratching his cheek shyly, "I guess there was some truth to them..." Of course, he had also heard that they are all barbaric and brute-minded people who fight at the drop of a coin... but he wasn't about to say that.


"Tales? From whom?"


"My Father," Bran said while looking into the fire with a nostalgic smile, "He used to tell me all kinds of stories of the North... And even though he himself has never been there, he still proudly considers himself a Northerner and even introduces himself with a family name..."


'Never been to North,' Jon mouthed while exchanging confused glances with Sam, 'How could anyone have a Northern family name if he's never been to North,'


"Wait? What was this Family name again?"


"Huh? Oh! It's Hornwood!" Bran replied with a tilt of his head making Jon and Sam's eyes widen in surprise.


...


Bran could still remember how his Father always lectured him when he was just a 5-year-old lad, about how he should always introduce himself as a Northerner and how he should take pride in his heritage and that he came from a Noble family of Hornwood.


But Bran never understood what it meant... About what it meant to be a 'Hornwood'.


Did his ancestors have some kind of horns on their heads? Or did they live in an area where there were a lot of trees with horns? Did they cut wood for a living? Were they lords? Were they rich? Do they have an army? Do they even know about him?


He knew nothing at all...


The only thing he was aware of was that dastard 'story' that had been fed to him countless times since he was a child. The story of Torrhen Stark, the last king in the North... the King who knelt.


The story of how the King in the North, three hundred years ago, kneeled in front of the Dragons to save his kingdom and its people from being burned to ashes. Which was an absolutely sane decision from his perspective, but alas... his 'very brave' ancestors didn't think so and didn't like their King's decision very much.


His ancestors abhorred the very thought of surrendering to the Targaryens. In fact, they hated it so much that they decided that they would abandon their family, abandon their land and leave the North rather than stay under the dragons. They gathered all the 'brave' like-minded people they could find from all the nearby strongholds in North and then went on a voluntary exile from Westeros... forever. (Idiots!)


And that was the beginning of their journey...


While he didn't know the exact path they took, he knew that a few years down the line almost all of them ended up in Essos.


Obviously being the brute-minded people that they were, the only thing they knew how to do was drink, fight, fuck, kill and drink again. And the only way to make money off of doing that is to set up a sellswords company. So, The Company of the Rose, was established, named after the winter rose, a unique species of flower only found in the North.


And now about three hundred years later they were still a small sellswords company living, killing and dying, for a few pieces of gold. Over the years they've fought in countless wars and skirmishes, some times they were on this side while other times they were on that side. From guarding goods and mansions to looting caravans, they had taken all kinds of jobs and travelled all across the Essos.


There were a few times when the company came really close to extinction or being disbanded but somehow they always held on and still existed to this day. Maybe it was something about the Northern blood that made them especially hardy and stubborn.


But even though the name of the company may have remained unchanged, the same can't be said about the people inside it.


At present, less than half of the five hundred-something warriors in it are Northerners and even fewer actually look like they are from the North. It was something bound to happen after years of people dying, settling down, marrying locals, and other such things.


In fact, the number would have been a lot lower if not for the occasional infusion of new blood from the bastards and other low-born from the North who came to Essos to make a name for themselves and found out that the Company was the only place who would take them.


Another thing that changed a lot over the years, was the leadership. Bran didn't know who the first leader of the Company was, he assumed it was a second son of a Stark or some other family. But after a lot of fighting, shuffling, coups, deaths and other things, not a lot of the original families survived and now a Hornwood had come out on the top to become the leader of the present-day Company of the Rose, and he just so happen to be Bran's father.


"Wait! Wait! Wait!" Jon interrupted Bran's story with an incredulous look on his face, "So you mean to tell me that not only do you belong to the Company of the Rose, you are also the son of its leader," he asked to which Bran nodded, "Then why did you say that you came from Pentos?"


"Oh! Well, that's because It's only been five months since I joined the company, before that I lived in Pentos along with the children and the families of the other members of the Company..."


"B-But how did you get captured if you were the son of the company's leader?" Sam asked with a look of incomprehension on his face. After all, it should be almost impossible for a few men to capture the son of the leader of a sellswords company from their midst.


"Um... It was mostly my own fault..." he said with a flushed look on his face, "I-I was angry at my father for something and ran out of the camp in the middle of the night without telling anyone, and unfortunately I was unlucky enough to get caught soon after that..."


"Oh... And why did you run away?"


Bran hesitated for a while before he answered, "Well, there's this girl... Lea..."


'Of course there is' thought Jon and Sam simultaneously while nodding their heads.


Bran couldn't remember the first time he saw Lea... it was probably when they were just toddlers. He just knew that he had been friends with her since he could remember.


They lived in the same house and were of the same age, his father was the leader and her father was the second in command of the company so they had grown up spending almost every single day with each other.


Whether it was eating, training, or playing, they were always together. In fact, they even joined the Company of the Rose at the same time, him as a fighter and her as a cook... even though she could fight almost as well as him.


Lea was the most cheerful person he had ever known, she could brighten up any room just by being in there, there was not a single evil bone in her body and she was a rare kind soul in this World...


And now she was dying...


He didn't know why. He didn't know how. He didn't even know when...


All he knew was that he had never seen a person look so pale and lifeless, it was as if someone had sucked all the life out of her. And it had all happened so abruptly. One day she was there laughing, gossiping, and cooking dinner for the camp with the other cooks. And the very next day she had suddenly fallen gravely sick. She couldn't even get up from her bed and was constantly coughing, sometimes so harshly that she even spat blood...


The useless camp healer couldn't even determine the cause of her sudden sickness, all he could diagnose was that she had some kind of fever and that only a city healer would be able to cure her.


As if it was so easy to get a city healer...


First of all, you needed an absurd amount of money to even get in through the door to have a chance to see a city healer. And even if you were able to collect the money he may as well not help you for some absurd reasons such as he didn't like the way you look or that you smell funny.


Only rich Merchants and powerful Magister had the power to move them. For mercenaries or smallfolks like them, he may as well have the power of a god... and the healer knew that fact very well...


But even if it didn't work out in the end, even if it was all fruitless, Bran still wanted to give it a try in a bid to save Lea. And the first hurdle to do that was to get money as he didn't have any.


So he immediately went for his father to demand that he give him the money to help him. But his father said there was no money to give, as they barely had enough to run the Company and that they would only get more money when their current job was completed.


He knew that it was very unreasonable and that his father was helpless in this situation but it didn't matter to Bran at that time, he raged and cursed at his father for his denial to help him before storming out of his tent.


He drank himself into a stupor for the first time that night. He had lost all hope by that point and was drowning himself in his sorrows... when he heard something that filled him with hope once again.


A guard was telling another guard that the son of a magister was going to have a name day celebration in a few days in Pentos and that the only gift the son demanded was to have a lion as a pet. And now there was a bounty of about a thousand gold out for anyone who could get them a lion cub.


Being in the haze of alcohol that he was, he didn't think too much and immediately set off during the night on a hunt without telling anyone, only taking a horse and some ration with him. He had no concrete plan in his mind on how he would accomplish it, he just knew that it was his last hope.


"So you set out alone... hoping to somehow stumble on a lion, kill it and then capture its cub..." Sam asked with an incredulous look on his face, trying to decide if he was stupid or brave.


"Y-Yes..." Bran answered while looking down in embarrassment since he knew how foolish his decision was in retrospect.


"So did you find it?" Jon asked curiously, "Did you find a lion?"


"No. I didn't even get a chance to search for them..." Bran shook his head disappointedly, "I don't know if I was just unlucky or something but somehow the very next day I found my camp surrounded by those sellswords from the Gallant men..." He shivered as he thought back to the cruel torture he had to endure under their care and how close he came to being sold as a slave... if it wasn't for these Northerners.


'That seems all too convenient...' Jon thought with a frown on his face. He could smell something fishy in this situation, even though he couldn't put his finger on what it was.


"I just hope I don't run into any more problems on the way back..." He said with a depressed look on his face.


"You don't need to worry about that," Jon said with a smile, "We'll bring you back to the Company of Rose safely..."


"You will?" Bran asked as his eyes went wide from surprise, "But... why?"


"Because we have the same destination."

 

[GrimmKenway8646]

Being in the haze of alcohol that he was, he didn't think too much and immediately set off during the night on a hunt without telling anyone, only taking a horse and some ration with him. He had no concrete plan in his mind on how he would accomplish it, he just knew that it was his last hope.


"So you set out alone... hoping to somehow stumble on a lion, kill it and then capture its cub..." Sam asked with an incredulous look on his face, trying to decide if he was stupid or brave.

Click to shrink...

Both. But with a 70% majority of plain stupid.

 

[ATP]

Both. But with a 70% majority of plain stupid.

Click to shrink...

I read about how some german tourist get Darwin Award - she come out of her car during safari ,go to lion cubs,and started to rearrenge them so they would look better at picture.
Cubs mommies were not amused.

But he ,at least,planned to kill lions first,so he was less stupid.

Back to story - i see Lea saved and Rose Company being hired by Jon.Interesting,how Hornwoods in North would react to cousins !

 

[LazyWizard]

The Company of the Rose had set up their camps on a small hill in one of the regions of the Disputed Lands that was occupied by Myr. Long lines of trenches and latrines had been dug in an orderly manner and even a wooden fence had been built to mark the perimeter, turning the campsite into a semi-permanent one, where they had been stationed for a considerable amount of time.


The dilapidated tents and battered armour of the wandering sellswords were a clear indication that the company was not doing well financially.


In the centre of the encampment stood the commander's tent, which was just as worn out as the rest of the tents, with only its slightly bigger size setting it apart.


Three vigilant sellswords stood guard a few meters away from the commander's tent making sure that no one was eavesdropping.


The atmosphere inside the tent was a little tense even though there were only two men inside the massive tent at the moment, the commander and the second in command.


The Commander, Gared Hornwood, was a giant man, standing about six and a half feet tall, with muscles of steel rippling all over his body. He had dark hair and grey eyes and with his bushy beard, he wouldn't look out of place on a table full of Umbers.


The other man, the second in command, Rickard, was a much smaller and thinner man and didn't have much muscles on him, and didn't look to be much of a fighter. He had narrow eyes and long hair and had the typical Braavosi looks.


Both of these men had grim looks on their faces and were staring at the thin strip of parchment on the table in front of them.


"Is this true?" Gared growled while gripping the table so hard that it almost splintered, "Is this letter real?"


"It would take some to verify it but... I think it is real." Rickard nodded grimly, "I don't think they would lie about something like this moreover... nobody has seen Bran in more than four days, so most probably—"


"How did they even get this letter to us? Was there a messenger..." Gared asked with a glint in his eyes, as he wondered if it was possible to torture the messenger to get confirmation out of him.


"No! No messenger, our usual merchant delivered this letter with the supplies," Rickard replied with a frown on his face, "He said that one of the merchants who supply The Gallant Men paid him to deliver the letter..."


The Gallant men were one of the dozens of Sellswords company who were currently active in the Disputed Lands. They were currently in a contract with Tyrosh at the moment and since the Company of the Rose was defending the territory of Myr, both of them were at odds with each other.


Gared closed his eyes to think for a few moments before he replied with a frown on his face, "It is just too fast... It doesn't make sense that in a matter of days, they not only caught my son, but they also had the time to send us this ransom letter demanding five thousand gold... The only way for this to be possible is if we had spies in our midst sending them information," he turned to Rickard with an accusing glare, "I did tell you to take care of them after the last time we were ambushed did I not?"


"You know that I've worked very hard to sniff out as many of them as I can," Rickard replied in a surly tone, with his eye twitching. Their company wasn't as big or as rich as the Golden Company so they didn't have an individual post for all the tasks. Most of the important tasks were handled by these two on their own. Tasks such as training their men and commanding them during battles came under Gared's purview while handling their contracts, gathering information and spy work came under Rickard as the second in command, "And even if I missed some there's nothing we can do about it now. The most important thing at the moment is to focus on what we are going to do about this ransom letter?"


"What can we even do about it?" Gared asked with gritted teeth and a vulnerable look in his eyes, "They are too strong and too far away for us to attack them effectively and... even if I sell all my belongings, I wouldn't be able to get this amount in a short time..." he shook his head with a frustrated look. While not completely dirt-poor, their company was quite close to it. They lived from contract to contract and barely broke even each time, with most of their gold immediately going towards supplies, salaries and the maintenance of their weapons, "...and the other option is not even an option."


The ransom letter had given Gared two choices if he wanted to get his son back in one piece, either cough up the absurd sum of five thousand gold or betray their current contract with Myr and give up the land that they were defending to the Gallant Men without putting a fight.


Choosing the second option would mean betraying their contract and going back on their word and it would be the same as killing the Company of the Rose with his own hands and Gared would die before doing that.


"So you mean to give up on your only son? Can you even do that?" Rickard asked while narrowing his eyes.


"What other choice do I have..." Gared sighed helplessly as he fell back onto his chair with a thud, "I can't ask my men to fight a losing battle just for the sake of my son..."


"You know that there's a very simple and easy solution for your problem..." Rickard said with a gleam in his eyes.


"What are you—Ugh! Not again!!" Gared groaned as he looked away from Rickard while massaging his forehead.


"No, listen to me," Rickard beseeched in a hurried tone, "You just need to nod your head and I will take care of everything. I already know a merchant who has contacts who are willing to pay as much gold as we want in advance, we just need to promise to regularly send them all the prisoners we take in our battles." he started to get an excited smile on his face, "This would not only solve the problem of your son but also solve all our money problem and maybe even help my sick daughter get a healer, and we can also get all kinds of good weapons for—"


"Enough!!" Gared interrupted without looking up with his head in his hands, "I've told you again and again, that I will not resort to slavery no matter the circumstances..."


"Argh! Why do you have to be so stubborn, Gared? These people we are going to sell are not innocent... They are cunts who would have been happy to kill us in battle, so why do you care so much about them," he asked with a frustrated look on his face, "Every single sellsword company already does this practice openly or sneakily, we are the only ones foolishly suffering from poverty because of your stubbornness..." he said in an annoyed tone before sighing while shaking his head, "I knew you were heartless when you denied me the chance to help get my dying daughter a healer from the city but... I didn't think that you wouldn't even care for your own son—"


"Rickard!! You go too far," Gared roared as he abruptly stood up, sending the chair flying with such force that it made the second in command flinch and almost shit his pants.


Rickard almost wanted to bolt for a second after seeing the fierce look on Gared's face but ultimately held his ground with false bravado as he knew that his commander was unlikely to resort to violence with his brother-in-law, "Don't forget that your daughter is also my niece, the only piece of my dead sister left in this world. You think I would have hesitated if there was a way I could help her. She's as much of a family to me as my son Bran is, I would've done anything for them—"


"But—"


"Anything but Slavery," He said firmly while looking straight into his eyes, "The blood of the North still runs in my veins, and I will not sully my ancestor's name by resorting to slavery no matter the circumstances."


There was silence for a few moments before Rickard gulped and tried once again, "You keep forgetting Gared, that we are not in the North.... this is Essos, not Westeros, slavery runs in people's blood here. Here you are either a slaver or a slave... you need to realise that if you don't want the company dying..."


"You dare—" Gared shouted as his eyes bulged with rage, but before he could rip into his second in command, a guard abruptly barged into the tent without announcing himself, scattering the intense atmosphere.


"What are you doing? Didn't I tell you to—" Gared turned to the guard with a glare but was surprisingly interrupted by his subordinate.


"C-Commander!!! It's your, son!! B-Bran! he's back..." the guard hurriedly said, wildly waving his hands towards the exit with a shocked look in his eyes.


"What?!" Both of the men inside barked while turning to look at the guard with an incredulous look on their faces as if he had just told them that the sun was falling from the sky.


"Y-Yes, Bran!! He is standing right outside the tent with—"


"Are you drunk, Karr? How can Bran—" But Gared didn't wait for Rickard's sceptical interrogation and immediately dashed outside, almost ripping the tent's flap in his haste.


The moment he came out, Gared was caught off guard by a not-so-small crowd of sellswords gathered in a circle right outside his tent.


Even with his height, Gared could not make out much of what they were encircling. But after a few seconds, he could vaguely make out two horses and two unfamiliar faces in the middle of the crowd. One was a handsome man curiously looking at someone talking to the sellswords, while the other one was a boy in half-plate armour clutching his axe nervously.


Abruptly he caught sight of the last member of the group who was laughingly talking to a few sellswords and almost immediately Gared recognised who it was even though he could only see the back from his position.


"Bran!! Bran! Argh! Get out of my way!! Let me through!!' Gared thundered as he half-pushed and half-trampled the crowd in his rush to get to the middle. It only took a few flying men for the rest of them to understand that their commander was coming through and to open a path for him.


"Father!!" Bran turned around with a delighted grin on his face after hearing the familiar booming sound.


"Bran!!" Gared finally pushed and immediately jumped on Bran, almost crushing the boy in his hug. The crowd looked on with warm smiles and chuckles on their faces as they saw the father and son reunite after the short but painful separation.


"Bran?! You really are my Bran!!"


"Yes, Father! I am," Bran replied with a stupid grin, "I know that I've got a lot of bruises on my face, but I am really your son,"


While the father and son were having their moment, most of the sellswords left them alone as they were much more interested in the unfamiliar newcomers.


"That man looks like he's a Northerner, doesn't he?"


"He really does...Do you think he's another one who came here to join our company all the way from the North?"


"Humph! I don't think that's likely. Can't you see how pretty he is? I bet he's like one those man whore from Lys," another replied with a bit of jealousy in his tone.


"Are you really this stupid? Don't you see the horse by his side? Do you think someone other than a warrior could have a horse like that? I can say with certainty that I've never seen a more majestic war horse in my life."


"Yes! Yes, he's definitely a Northerner, I can guarantee it because the wolf insignia on his breast means that he may even be related to the Starks!!" someone said in an excited whisper, sending waves through the crowd.


"S-Starks?! Really!!"


"N-No! You're wrong! I've only left North less than three years ago and as far as I know, the Stark family's symbol is a brown wolf, not a white one... Though this one looks eerily similar."


While the sellswords gossiped about Jon's identity, the father and son finally separated from their hug.


"You—What happened to you, Bran? I thought you were captured—" Gared choked a few times before he took a deep breath and asked the question in his mind, "How did you escape? I-I thought I had lost you..."


"I did get captured, father." Bran nodded his head solemnly, "But luckily Jon and Sam happened to pass by and managed to save me, otherwise..."


"Jon? Sam? Are you talking about them?" Gared asked as he looked up at the two unfamiliar faces patiently waiting a bit away from the two, "I am in their debt then, if they were the ones to save you—Wait! Why does that Northerner have a wolf on his chest? I-Is he a Stark? Is he here to join the Company?" he asked the same question in everyone's mind, while incredulously looking down at his son.


"Yes, No! I mean he is almost a...Stark." Bran explained while scratching his head but after seeing the confused expression on his father's face sighed, "It is very complicated, Father and will take a while to explain so why don't we get inside first and then I'll tell you everything..." he said while looking around at the crowd.


"Right! You're right!" Gared quickly nodded his head before turning towards the gathering of Sellsworeds with a stern expression on his face, "What the fuck are you lazing around for?!! Get the fuck back to training before I beat the shit out of all of you!!" He thundered furiously, immediately sending the sellswords scurrying away like rats.


"Let's go, Bran,"


"Yes, Father," Bran nodded before turning to Jon and Sam and beckoning them, "Jon! Sam! Come one, both of you, follow me,"


While the crowd dispersed and the father and son duo went inside Gared's personal tent, there was one person who looked very disappointed and angry at seeing Bran return back safe and sound.


...


"...So you mean to tell me that... the reason you ran away was because you thought that you could earn the bounty by capturing a lion cub... all on your own..." Gared asked as he gawked at his son with an incredulous look on his face.


All four of them were inside Gared's personal tent at the moment. While it seemed a little cramped with all of them, especially with the size of Gared, it was still manageable.


Jon and Sam were sitting at a table nearby eating soup and bread that Gared had ordered his cook to bring, while watching Bran explain what had happened to him to his father.


"Y-Yes..." Bran answered with a flushed look, "I know that it was stupid and irresponsible—"


"Stupid?! You Idiot!!" Gared bellowed angrily while slamming his knuckle on his son's head, "Ow!!" hard enough to make his eyes water, "That wasn't just stupid!! That was suicidal!!"


"B-But I could have done it—NO! Don't hit me!!" Bran immediately cowered when Gared raised his hand once again. His father's massive fist felt like a hammer on his head and only once was enough for him to see stars.


"How could you be this stupid!!" Gared continued berating uncaring about the watching audience, "Did you really think that if there was such a bounty out there, you would even have a chance to win it? Huh? You didn't think that an amount like that would attract the attention of all the money-hungry sellswords of Essos?"


"W-What? Y-You mean it was false news?"


"Of course it was!! There's no name day celebration of any son of Pentosi Magister and even if he was celebrating it and his son wanted a lion cub, did you not think that he would send his own unsullied and other soldiers before putting up a bounty for sellswords?" Gared said in a frustrated tone before he closed his eyes and sighed, "Ah... How could I have such a stupid son... Why did you only take after your mother in your looks and not your mind..." he said in a lamenting voice.


"B-But I heard that guard talking about this with his friend clearly..."


"A guard? Can you remember who it was? Do you know him?"


"N-No... I was very drunk and I didn't clearly see, but—"


"Then it was probably a spy," Gared sighed while shaking his head, "It was probably a trap especially set for you or it could even be just some boasting of a drunk sellsword... there's no way to tell since you already killed your assailants..."


"B-But..." Bran stuttered while having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that he had fallen for something so stupid, "But w-who—why would someone do something like that?"


"It doesn't matter," Gared said, losing most of his anger at seeing his son looking down, "Bran, I know that you care for Lea and did all this for her... But you can't lose your cool like this..."


"I-I am sorry, Father. I j-just really thought that if I just got the gold Lea would become better." Bran said without looking up, "I just can't see her like that knowing that I could have done something...But it was all for nought anyway and now she's going to die and I couldn't do anything..."


"Bran—"


"Ahem!" Jon suddenly cleared his throat interrupting the Father and Son duo and stood up after getting their attention, "I know that I shouldn't interrupt you but I just wanted to say that my friend here—" he pointed towards Sam who abruptly stopped and looked up wide-eyed with his mouth stuffed with food, "—is a healer and maybe he could take a look at Lea..."


///

 

[ATP]

Yep,Sam to rescue.

 

[LazyWizard]

A few minutes later, Jon and Sam were finished with their food and then all of them quickly went towards the healer's tent.

The only company healer, a 50-something-year-old man was not inside the tent at the moment so they were the only ones there.

The tent wasn't too fancy with only three beds laid on the ground, and a small wooden worktable nearby stocked with about a half-dozen various-sized pots filled with all kinds of herb mixtures.

Bran, Jon and Gared watched from a few feet away as Sam diagnosed the thin young girl, Lea, who was the only patient inside the tent at the moment. The girl looked unusually pale and bloodless, and she couldn't seem to be able to keep her eyes open for very long. Her breathing was heavy and laboured and her frequent coughs sounded dry and painful.

"I didn't know Sam was a Maester, Jon," Bran asked in a soft tone, trying to distract himself from getting anxious after seeing the miserable state Lea was in.

"Oh, he is not." Jon said with a shrug while watching the boy nervously taking Lea's pulse, "Though he always wanted to be one, he never really took the training..."

"What? B-But didn't you say that he was a healer?"

"And he is. He's probably got more knowledge about the healing arts than most Maesters out there and has read dozens of books about it, so you don't need to worry about his skills," Jon said confidently, "Plus he paid special attention to the Essosi diseases, herbs and healing books before coming here so he may be even better than your company's healer."

"I-If you say so..." Bran replied with a confused look on his face but didn't ask any more questions because he was already at the end of his rope regarding Lea and as long as Sam could give him some hope that Lea could survive he didn't care whether he was a Maester or a hedge witch.

There was silence for a few minutes after that before Jon suddenly felt a big hand on his shoulder and turned around to find Bran's father, Gared gesturing to him with his head to move towards the corner, "Can I talk to you for a moment?"

"Sure." Jon nodded and both of them left behind Bran, who was too preoccupied with Sam and Lea to pay them any mind, and went a few feet away.

"Er... Jon Snow right?" Gared asked in a low tone which seemed out of character on a big man like him.

"Yes and you're called Gared Hornwood," Jon said with a smile as both of them shook hands, "Your son told me a lot about you."

"What? What did he tell you?" he asked with narrowed eyes, "Don't tell me he whined to you about how I am a big brute who is too violent and that I take advantage of my big size to bully him and that he would take his revenge and beat the shit out of me when he grows larger..."

"Umm, no, nothing like that..." Jon replied while looking at Gared with a weird look on his face, "He only told me that you're a good father and an even better commander and that you've always kept to your roots and still consider yourself a Northerner..."

"Oh...That's fine then," Gared said with a sigh of relief before shaking his head, "Anyway, the reason I called you out here was to express my gratitude to you for going out of your way and saving my son. I'll always be in your debt because of that and as long as it is in my hands, I will try to help you in any way that I can to repay this debt. And while Bran told me that you're the son of the Lord Stark—"

"Yes, the one who has the blood but not the name," Jon clarified just for the sake of it.

"Doesn't matter. Out here, a son is a son," Gared said seriously while shaking his head, "Anyway, while I know that you probably grew up in a castle and that you may not be lacking in anything, but still, if there's anything I can help you with, anything at all, then don't hesitate—"

"Actually, there is something that you can help me with."

"Really? What is it," Gared asked with an interested expression on his face before his eyes suddenly widened, "Wait, don't tell me, do you and your friend want to join the company? Is that why you came here? Because if that's the thing then it's no problem at all." he said thumping his chest with his fist, "While most people who come here from the North, to earn money, fame or battle experience, start from the very bottom, I can make sure that you won't have to do that and can even get you good positions—"

"Umm, there's a misunderstanding here," Jon interrupted with an amused smile, "We didn't come here to get hired.... we came here to hire you."

"What? You want to hire...me?" Gared asked dumbfoundedly while pointing at himself.

"Well, not you especially, but your whole company. I want to hire your company for a long-term job of protecting my shipping company and some other things,"

"Oh..." Gared said with a blank look on his face as he was having a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the young man in front of him, who couldn't have been older than his own son, not only wanted to hire a whole sellswords company, he also wanted it for a long term contract.

While he knew that one shouldn't judge a client by how they look... Gared felt that he was quite justified in being sceptical here even if the man in front of him was the son of Lord Stark. "W-Who do you mean 'I' here, is it actually you or your..."

"No, just me and no one else," Jon shrugged with a calm smile on his face as if there was nothing absurd about what he just said.

"Er... I don't mean to be rude but do you know how much it costs to hire us for the—"

"Of course I do, I already scouted the costs of hiring all the sellsword companies in the area before coming here. While yours was not the cheapest, it was definitely the most compatible with my requirements and what's even better is that you're from the North so it would be a lot more comfortable for my sailors, than if I hired another Essosi sellswords company. In fact, if you agree to terminate your current contract and set off with me immediately, I can even agree to pay you one and a half times your usual rates." Jon said with an eager gleam in his eyes, "So what do you think? Shall we write a contract immediately..."

"Um..." Gared just blinked stupidly as he was quite overwhelmed by the sudden offer and his instinct was to immediately accept the delightful proposal which couldn't have come at a better time considering their financial condition. But he controlled himself at the last moment, because for one thing, it felt too good to be true, especially considering how young the client was and secondly..."I am sorry, Jon, while I am very tempted, it would be against my principles to terminate my contract just because I got a better offer."

"But what if—"

"Are you done, Sam? What did you find? Is Lea going to be fine?" Bran's anxious voice interrupted Jon and Gared's conversation and after a quick look both of them decided to shelve their conversation for later and went towards Sam who appeared to be quite overwhelmed with Bran's barrage of questions.

"Let him breathe, Bran," Gared rebuked gently, "I am sure whatever happens, Sam here tried his best so you shouldn't pressure him like that,"

"Yes, Sorry, Father," Bran said before taking a deep breath, "So what did you find?" he repeated, making Gared shake his head helplessly.

"Well...after diagnosing Lea and recording all her symptoms, I tried to remember if any of the normal Essosi diseases that I've read about resembled her symptoms... but no matter how I tried to recall, there was no disease that came to mind... that either means that she's got a very rare disease which would make it almost impossible to save her or..."

"Oh..." Bran and Gared said as their faces fell simultaneously at the familiar answer that they had already heard from their own healer. While they had been prepared for it, it still hurt to have their hopes dashed like that, "D-Don't worry Sam, I am sure you tried your best and—"

"Or maybe... it's not really a disease," Sam suddenly interrupted Gared's consolation with an uncertain look on his face.

"W-What? What do you mean?"

"Well... I am not completely sure about it, but there was a book that details the exact symptoms that Lea is sporting almost word to word but it's just that..." Sam said while scratching his head, "It's just that, that book was completely unrelated to healing,"

"What book are you talking about, Sam? Where did you read about Lea's symptoms?" Bran asked hurriedly, his hopes igniting once again as he knew that knowing the disease was more than half the battle.

"I-In a book about poisons."

"What?!" Bran and Gared cried simultaneously with a shocked look on their face, as they wouldn't have thought of poison in a hundred years, but there was someone there who sported a completely unchanged look as if he had expected it.

"From the book we got from Oberyn, right." Jon stated, rather than asking, and when Sam nodded his head in confirmation, his eyes narrowed as he murmured, "I was afraid of that..."

"W-What do you mean, Jon?"

"Yes, What do you mean by that? Did you know that Lea was poisoned?"

"No. I didn't know...at least not for sure, but I suspected something like this when you told me that she had suddenly fallen sick..."

"What? Why?!"

"Well... because there were too many coincidences involved in him leaving the camp," Jon said while jerking his head towards Bran who still had a wide-eyed look on his face, "Lea suddenly getting ill, you falling for that lion cub scam, and then being immediately getting caught by those Gallant Men sellswords the very next day...it all felt like someone's plot— as if someone was deliberately trying to lure you out of the camp to capture you..."

"B-But why would—"

"Argh! Fuck! It must be those same cunts again," Gared suddenly cursed while scratching his head fiercely with a frustrated look on his face, "That must be how they were able to send the ransom letter so quickly, it must have all been pre-planned..."

"Ransom letter? What are you talking about, father?"

"The one I got just before you arrived..." Gared explained everything before shaking his head, "Before, I had assumed that it was just a coincidence that it arrived so quickly, but now... now it seems to be the work of those damn spies once again," he said before he gritted his teeth angrily, "They are getting on my damn nerves now,"

Jon involuntarily raised an eyebrow at the overzealous response before saying, "It doesn't seem like a rare occurrence from the way you reacted..."

"Yes, it isn't," Gared replied in a frustrated tone, "There have been more than a few times where my company has been ambushed or lost a good opportunity because of these spies leaking the news... but to think that they've become so brazen as to poison someone and even try to abduct my son. If only I could somehow get my hands on them... then I'll show them the consequences of crossing me," he said ferociously while twisting his hands in the air as if he were squishing someone's head, before sighing, "But the thing is that no matter what method you use, there's really no way to root them all out. In a company like ours with almost 500 fighters, it is almost impossible to find who is a spy and who is not,"

"Hmm, Maybe... Maybe I could help you out with your spy problem..." Jon said slowly, a distracted expression on his face.

"You could? How?"

"Well... I would need your cooperation and a few days to scout all your fighters before I can say for sure... But it shouldn't be too much of a problem to root out most of the rats... but I think that is a discussion for later, for now, let's get back to the patient," Jon nodded to Gared before turning back towards Sam, "So tell us Sam, can you cure her, now that we know what she's suffering from..."

"Er... I guess, I mean it's not like it's a rare poison so the antidote should be quite easy to make and... I think that I can find most of the required ingredients right here," he said pointing towards the pots of different herbs on the healer's workstation, "And if any herb is missing, I am sure that Frost can easily find them in the nearby forests..."

"Frost? Who's Frost?"

"Well... she's just a very helpful friend," Jon shrugged with a mysterious smile, "Maybe you'll get to meet her someday..."

...

About a week later, the atmosphere of the Company of Rose had completely changed, all the lethargy and laziness seemed to have simply evaporated from the air, and everywhere you looked you would only see alert and vigilant sellswords, who were either going about their training or clearing their worn equipment and weapons religiously. The company appeared as if they were preparing for a war... which they were, in a way.

The Company commander had passed down an urgent order about a week ago, that they were going to launch a full-force attack on the Gallant Men campsite very soon, so all of them had to prepare to the best of their abilities as they could set off at any time.

The order had left almost everyone bewildered and confused, and all of them agreed that this order didn't make any sense... mostly because of two reasons.

Firstly, it came completely out of the blue, without any indications whatsoever which meant that they didn't have enough preparation, and secondly, the Gallant Men were not some small-sized sellswords that they could attack and destroy at any time, no, they had almost the same amount of fighters as them, and were even considered better off than them with higher quality weapons and armour.

Most importantly, large-scale rarely happened in the Disputed Lands, especially between similar-sized companies... as anything more than skirmishes almost always meant huge losses for both sides, which no one wants.

So whenever a battle occurs, the losing side is usually very quick to disengage and retreat (run away) to minimize their losses. After all, they were sellswords and not a peasant army of Westeros.

So even with more than a few dozen companies active in the Disputed Lands at all times, battles rarely happened here, which might seem a bit ironic but it was the truth. Everyone here followed an unspoken rule of never participating in decisive fights and just quietly leeching off of the three free cities safely by offering protection to their occupied lands for the long term.

But even though the order was unusual no one objected or hesitated to follow it... which spoke quite well of the Commander's prestige and reputation.

Anyway, the atmosphere inside the healer's tent was a lot more peaceful, unlike the excitement outside.

"S-Sam, you are a fucking genius," Bran cried while shaking Sam's hands enthusiastically.

He had seen Lea's complexion improve with every passing day due to the cure that Sam had brewed. While before she had been constantly suffering from dry painful coughs, now she was sleeping almost peacefully. Looking at her now it was almost impossible to believe that she'd been so close to death before, "I don't know how I'll ever repay you, my friend. No matter what happens, I'll forever remain in your debt."

"I-It's fine. I didn't help that much, I just made the antidote so..." Sam replied while rubbing the back of his head embarrassingly, before turning away from Bran's genuine adoration towards Lea who had fallen asleep after taking some milk of poppy, "A-Anyway, while she might be out of mortal danger, Lea still needs plenty of rest for her body to recuperate from the damage the poison had done on her body, so you need to let her have a lot of rest and take good care of her, and..."

While Sam was giving Bran some basic instructions, Jon was standing with Gared a few feet away watching the scene with a smile on his face.

"I should beat the shit out of our fucking healer," Gared cursed abruptly in a low voice, "That bastard kept telling me that there's nothing we can do about Lea and that any new medicine is useless and... that we'll only kill her faster with this antidote. Thankfully I chose to believe you, otherwise..." Gared shook his head with an angry look on his face, "Where the hell is he anyway, I haven't seen his ugly mug in two days, is he hiding in embarrassment from his failure..." he scoffed before looking towards the entrance with narrowed eyes as if contemplating immediately running out to find the company healer to give him a piece of his mind.

"Don't bother," Jon said calmly with a distracted gaze, "The healer is long gone by now, in fact, he is just about to reach the river halfway through Pentos at the moment..."

"W-What? He ran away!!" Gared asked in a bewildered tone, "But why? There was no need for him to take such drastic measures if it was just a mistake. He should know that I wouldn't blame him too much..."

"Maybe because it wasn't a mistake..."

"What?! What do you—" Gared's eyes abruptly widened with comprehension as he realised what Jon was insinuating, "You mean he was a FUCKING SPY!!"

"No." Jon shook his head calmly, "But he probably worked for one..." he continued in a low voice in contrast to Gared's agitated one, "I think he was probably also the one who administered the poison so that it only harmed Lea but not killed her..."

"Who is it? Who was the one that ordered him? Just tell me their fucking names?!" Gared growled with his eyes spitting fire.

"No, can't do that," Jon shook his head indifferently, "I've only caught two rats till now and we still need to wait for the Merchant's supply run tomorrow to lure out the rest of them, and I don't want you to spook the nest before that happens so you'll just have to wait..."

"Ugh! You're killing me, Jon," Gared said in a frustrated tone, "I've already staked my reputation by giving that absurd order on your behalf. So you should at least tell me their names, a-and I promise that I will control myself..."

"Hmm..." Jon looked scrutinizingly towards Gared for a few moments before simply shaking his head, "No. I don't believe you're the kind of person who would be able to control yourself after finding out the spies' name... especially since one of them is quite a big fish..."

"Argh!! I just want to kill those fuckers with my own hands as soon as possible!!"



"Oh! Don't worry, you'll get your chance in two days... Just have patience my friend...just a little patience..."

///

 

[ATP]

Mother of all cliffchangers.I think,that it would be dude who want sell slaves.And,if thanks to Frost they manage to defeat Gallant Men,they could go work for Jon.

 

[LazyWizard]

It was the time just before evening... when the bright red sun was almost horizontal to the eyes and was slowly sinking into the sea of earth.


Normally this would be the time when all the sellswords would finish up with their evening training and wind down their muscles before dragging their heavily exhausted bodies towards dinner.


But today it was different...


Today, not only had the commander called off their usual evening training, but he had also commanded the cooks to give the men their dinner very early, and even though the food was the usual spread, it still felt like a feast to sellswords as it was perhaps the first time in forever that the men didn't have to work so hard for their food and they even had the spare energy to taste their food and talk to each other.


So safe to say that the atmosphere inside the camp at the moment was almost... festive.


This meant that when the commander ordered about a hundred-something sellswords to gather in the training grounds for a meeting... none complained and all of them were very happy to oblige.


"H-Hey, Terrek, do you know why the commander called all of us here for..." one of the new recruits asked his only friend nervously as they, along with all the sellswords who had been called by the commander, began slowly converging towards the huge bonfire in the middle of the training ground.


"Don't know, lad. But if I had to guess... then I think it's probably to talk about that attack on the Gallant Men..."


"You think so..."


"Of course, otherwise why would he only call the important people of the company..."


"Important people?"


"Yes, look around you. Almost everyone you see around here has some kind of a position or a responsibility of some kind in addition to being a fighter..."


"Really..."


"Yes. Look! See them! They are the only five blacksmiths in our company—and them! They are all the unit leader who leads our fighters in battle, and that man—he is the one in charge of our supplies and he..."


"But then... why am I here? I-I am just a new recruit who joined just a month ago... I am not one of the higher-ups..." asked the young boy, with distinct Essosi looks, nervously.


"So what if you're new? Aren't you the one who is in charge of our horses, so of course, you would—"


"What in charge of the horses!! Don't fill the kid's head, Terrek," an unpleasant voice suddenly interrupted them from behind, "He is just a guy our commander took pity on and just gave him the duty of washing the horses, that's all. Humph!!"


"Oh, Daryn... the commander called you too, huh," said Terrek with a disappointed look on his face.


"Of course, he did," Daryn replied pompously, "Because, unlike some people," he said while giving a nasty glare towards the young Essosi boy, "I am someone who has got the noble blood of—"


"Yes, Yes, you have the blood of the Ryswells of North in you. You should just write it on your forehead, instead of telling it to every person you see," Terrek scoffed at Daryn before turning back to the timid boy, "Karr, he is Daryn, the one in charge of handing out our salaries or as everyone calls him, The Sleeping Piggy... you know because you can always find him either pigging out or sleeping," he ridiculed to the immediate burst of laughter from the surrounding sellswords.


"You!!" Daryn immediately went red at the dastard name that he hated more than anything in the world. But just when an angry Daryn was about to lunge and a fight was about to start, they were interrupted.


"Enough!!" barked one of the grim older sellswords with white hair and white beard making everyone there flinch, "Get going now, Don't make the commander wait," he said in a low gravely tone and the sellswords immediately nodded like docile puppies.


"Y-Yes!!"


Except for that short conflict, nothing else happened and everyone slowly gravitated towards the centre where the almost hundred-something sellswords huddled against each other with a huge bonfire in the middle.


Standing close to the fire were five people, two of them were the most well-known people in the company, the Commander and the Second in Command, and standing right behind the commander was his son, Bran, who had recently gone missing. And the last two were newcomers, who had joined them a week ago. No one knew anything about them except for the gossip circulating that one of them was the son of a Stark from the North.


"Is it time, Jon?" Gared asked in a low tone that disappeared under the chatter of the sellswords.


"Hmm..." Jon took a cursory look around at the gathered sellswords, and after checking with the thin list in his hands replied with a nod, "...Yes, all of them are here so you can begin now."


Gared grunted his assent before taking a few steps forward to stand in front of the fire.


"MEN!!" he bellowed with the full might of his lungs, "SHUT THE FUCK UP!!" the effect was almost immediate as the whole crowd of gossiping sellswords came to complete silence instantly.


Gared took a slow methodical look around the crowd, and only when he saw that every single eye was on him was he satisfied and began to speak up.


"My friends, most of you know that I am not one for long speeches and that If I try using flowery words, it would make your skin crawl..." a smattering of laughter burst out from here and there, "so I'll get straight to the point. I have gathered all of you out here today for one thing and one thing only... to clean all the filth out of our company," Gared said, his abruptly turning so dark that it sent a shiver through the crowd, "once and for all,"


The atmosphere in the training ground instantly changed at those words as the mood of the gathering went from light and festive to anxious and tense as the sellswords began to wonder what their commander was talking about.


"Some of you are newcomers who have only been with the company for a few months, while others have been with us since before they could swing a sword, some of you I have watched grow up, while others have watched me grow up," he said while looking at the few of the older looking sellswords, "But no matter who you are I have always placed my complete trust in you, in my company... and I would leave my back to any one of you in a battle without hesitation... and I know that you would do the same, WON'T YOU?!"


"WE WILL!!" came the collective shout from the crowd.


"Well, I thought so too...But sadly some of you don't agree with that sentiment..." Gared shook his head with a disappointed look on his face, "There are a few among those standing here today, who think that when their comrades present their back to them, it is an opportunity... an opportunity to stab them in the back to earn a few more coppers..." he said as his mouth curled up in disgust.


"They don't care that we've been through thick and thin, they don't care that we've been through so many life and death battles, they don't care if the information they are sharing with the enemies is going to betray everyone in our company, that it is going to result in their brothers being ambushed, they don't care... as long as they can make some money. After all, what is a brother's life worth compared to a few pieces of that shiny yellow metal..."


A hush immediately fell up the crowd as the commander finished his speech and all of them began to wonder about whom the commander was talking about.


"W-Who is it, Commander?!!"


"Y-Yes! Tell us their names, Commander!! We'll take care of these bastards!!"


"Traitors should just go die!!!"


"Yes!! We'll kill them for you, Commander!!! Kill them all!!"


"Kill!!" "Kill!!" "Kill!!" "Kill!!"


As the crowd began to get slowly riled up and started chanting together, swearing to kill these imaginary backstabbers. There were a few hidden faces in the crowd who became very uncomfortable with the hate coming from the sellswords surrounding them.


"Very Well," Gared shouted, the moment the chants died down a bit, "I hope all of you remember this hate you feel a few moments later when the names of these rats are being called out..." he said before taking one final look at the crowd with a complicated look on his face, before going back towards Jon, "It's time for your part, Jon..."


"Yes, Of course, Gared," Jon nodded his head before going to stand in the spot that Gared emptied in front of the fire. He looked at the crowd of waiting sellswords and began, "Not many among you know me, but my name is Jon Snow... and I am the one who was tasked with finding the rats amidst you by the commander but... I hope you don't hate me too much if the ones I am calling out are your friends..." he said with a smile but sadly was only treated with silent treatment from the crowd, "Ahem! Anyway, let's begin."


"The first name is..." He looked down at the list in his hand just for the sake of theatrics since he had already memorised it, "...Ros!!"


There was silence for a few moments before some of the eyes in the crowd turned towards a young naive-looking boy.


"W-What?! M-Me!!" the boy said while pointing at himself with horror-filled eyes.


"Hmm... No, Not you, the other one... Where's the other Ros?" Jon asked loudly after a short look at the young boy who almost peed his pants from relief, "Look around people! Find out where Ros is—"


"Here!! He's here!!" shouted someone, as he ratted out a short mousy-faced man in front of him trying to duck his head and hide amidst the crowd.


"Aha! There you are," Jon said as his face lit up with a smile, "Come on now! Come to the front, don't be so shy..."


Though the man seemed to be unwilling, the surrounding crowd wasn't so he was ultimately pushed towards the front by the friendly sellswords.


"Now, my friend, do you wish to confess to your—"


"W-What confess!! I didn't do anything. You are clearly lying!! I am not a spy," he screamed at Jon in a panicked tone, before turning to the second in command with a pleading face, "C-Commander Rickard! You have to believe me, You knew my uncle, right!! You know that I am not a spy, Help me!!"


The second in command contemplated in silence for a few moments before turning towards Jon, "He is right. Your word alone should not be enough to declare the man a spy, so unless you have some solid proof—"


"Of course, I have proof," Jon interrupted with a bright smile, "Why else would I accuse him like that..." he said before turning towards his friend with an outstretched hand, "Sam give me the one named Ros..."


"Y-Yes," Sam nodded hurriedly before lowering himself towards the half dozen brown sacks beside his feet and after searching for a few seconds he picked up the one with Ros written on it and placed it in Jon's eager hands.


"Hmm... Let's see," Jon said while putting his right hand inside the sack as if searching for something inside a magic bag before pulling out a single piece of parchment, "Aha! here it is. Tell me, Ros, do you remember what this is..." Jon asked in a gentle tone while waving the open parchment in front of Ros's eyes so that he could somewhat make out its content.


"How did you— I-I mean no, I don't know what that is," Ros almost gave himself away in his shock but stopped at the last moment and hurriedly shook his head to deny any involvement with the letter, "I-I've never seen it before in my life!!"


"You haven't? Really... Then shall I read it aloud, to jog your memory?" The question was completely rhetorical as Jon didn't wait for Ros's answer and immediately began reading the letter, "My dear friend, Ramos, How are you—Blah! Blah! Blah! Ugh! You say too many useless things, Ros—Aha! here comes the best part, 'This month's news is quite precious my friend so I hope you aren't stingy with the gold, unlike the last time... Our commander is soon going to launch an attack on the Gallant Men, completely unprovoked...which I think is quite stupid but then again what else can you expect from a brute like him—"


"No! Stop it!!" Ros hurriedly interrupted with a horrified look on his face. "Stop reading it!!"


"Why? Do you suddenly recall the parchment now, Ros?"


"N-No! No, I-I didn't... I just don't want you uh insult the C-Commander like that..."


"Still denying it, Huh? Then... What about this?" Jon asked while suddenly pulling out a small but heavy yellow sack from the big brown one, "Do you know what this is?"


"Why do you have—That's mine! You thief!!"


"Ah! So you do remember this one, Huh," Jon said with a mischievous grin on his face, "But when I opened it and counted the gold in it... there were something like 200 gold in it—" loud gasps abruptly came from the crowd at the big amount, "—That's right, that much," Jon nodded to the crowd's gasps before turning back to Ros, "So tell us... how did you come by this fortune, my dear friend?"


"I-I-I... s-saved it, Yes, I saved it!"


"You did?" Jon exclaimed with a very fake shocked look on his face before turning towards Gared, "I didn't know you were so generous with your salary, Commander..."


Gared didn't bother replying to Jon instead he just looked at Ros with a sullen expression and growled, "Explain yourself! Now!!"


"I-I H-He's lying, Comm—"


"THE TRUTH!!" he bellowed with such a fierce expression that it almost made the mousy man wet his pants and he immediately confessed.


"I am sorry!! I lied!!" Ros cowered as he cried out loudly, "I-I messed up, I made a m-mistake, Commander. It was a-an accident. B-But I only wrote that one letter, so p-please forgive me," he cried before immediately kneeling on the ground to beg for forgiveness, but sadly for him, Jon wasn't in the mood to be merciful that day and pulled out the last piece of evidence from the pouch.


"Then what about these, Ros?" Jon asked gently while waving a whole bunch of parchments in his hands, "These are all reply letters sent by your dear friend Ramos... why are there so many of them if you've only done this once, huh?"


"No, No, No! NO!!!" Despair filled the eyes of Ros as he realised at that moment that there was no way out for him after those parchments came out in front of everyone.


"Not burning these letters wasn't very smart of you, Ros..."


"No, No! Please, Commander! You have to forgive me! Give me one more chance! I'll do anything—"


"Men! Take him away!!" Gared interrupted with a disgusted look on his face.


Almost immediately two sellswords appeared from behind Gared and dragged the unwilling rat away to the Camp's temporary prison where he will remain until Gared announces his punishment.


"Phew! That took quite a while..." Jon said with a refreshed smile on his face before once again raising the list in his hand, "Ahem! Moving on, the next name on the list is... Jared. Where are you, Jared—"


Before Jon could pretend to look for this one, his next victim who seemed to have already been standing at the very edge of the crowd, abruptly broke away and took off towards the exit with all his might.


"Oho! Looks like we have a runner..." Jon said with an amused smile on his face as he watched the man run as if his life depended on it, "Don't worry men, no need to chase him..." Jon said when some sellswords looked ready to sprint after the escapee, "Because... we were prepared for this..."


The runaway man was very delighted to find that there were no pursuers behind him but just as he was about to reach the exit of the training grounds, five guards suddenly appeared out of nowhere and tackled him onto the ground and successfully nabbed him.


"No!! Let me go!! I didn't do anything!! NO!! The Golden Company will not let you off!!!"


The crowd watched with trepidation as the man was forcefully dragged back towards the centre, and it was only at that moment, did the sellswords there looked around them and noticed that the training ground they were in was completely surrounded by the lower-ranking foot soldiers of the company.


"It looks like this one doesn't even need me to bring out the evidence..." Jon said with a somewhat disappointed look on his face, "What do you think, Commander?"


"NO!! Commander, you can't do this to me!! The Golden company will not let you off if you harm me—"


"Take him away," Gared grunted without looking at the snivelling man even once.


It took a while before the unwilling man was dragged away and for the ground to fall silent once again.


"Hmm... Shall we get on with it then," Jon asked with an innocent smile which made everyone there shiver whether they were a spy or not.


"And the next one is...Caron,"


"NO!!"


And so it went on and on and on... as Jon kept calmly calling out the names of the spies on the list, and obviously most of them denied it vehemently, but the evidence he had prepared was so ironclad that none of them were able to maintain their composure for long and began resorting to begging and negotiating... saying things like how they had been with the company for a long time or that they had been forced or that they didn't know... but none of it worked on the Commander as he sent away every single one of them without exception.


The festive air half an hour ago now seemed like years in the past, as everyone there looked at Jon with anxious gazes hoping that their name wouldn't get called, even if they had never betrayed the company, the tense atmosphere around them still made them instinctively feel afraid.


"Hai... that was exhausting," Jon said while wiping imaginary sweat from his forehead with a smile on his face as the guards took away another spy crying and screaming profanities at everyone, "Now, for the last small fish... Daryn, will you please come out,"


Every single person in the training ground immediately turned to the next target, who was somewhat of a famous personality in the Company but... not for good reasons.


"M-Me?! Are you out of your fucking mind?! Commander! There's something wrong with this bastard, I've never written a single letter to anyone outside of this company, you have to believe me, Commander!!" he urged but none seemed to believe him.


By now everyone had already become familiar with the pattern here, so no one came to the fatso's defence instead they waited patiently for the scary man to present them with evidence of his wrongdoing and then derive some sadistic pleasure in watching Daryn's eyes cloud in despair...


"You know, I have to commend you, Daryn... for you are quite a cunning man," Jon began in a somewhat impressed tone, "You were actually the second hardest one to catch out of all of the rats... because unlike the others you were smart enough to never leave any evidence... you burnt all your letters and didn't keep any direct contact with anyone from the other sellswords companies and didn't even keep much gold on you... it was almost like you were not a spy at all..."


"T-That's right, I am not! T-This means you've got no proof and that you're making false accusations!! C-Commander, I urge you to kill this outsider right this instant so that he doesn't cause any more mayhem—"


"But—" Jon's clear-cut tone abruptly sliced through Daryn's chatter making the fat man flinch, "But you made one mistake my friend... you were just too hasty in sending that letter to your beloved son..." Jon finished with a smile on his face while raising a piece of parchment in the air which immediately made Daryn's eyes widen in horror.


"T-That's—"


"Oh, yes!" Jon nodded with an amused grin, "Quire the successful son you have, don't you... With two inns under his name, a modest house in Pentos and he's even got three pretty wives, all to himself... he's living the dream life isn't he?"


"T-That doesn't prove anything—


"You're right, it doesn't... After all, he could just be a very successful merchant and not be involved in any shady business, right," Jon said and Daryn unconsciously nodded along, "But... sadly unlike you, your son doesn't quite believe in burning all his letters... Maybe, because he adores you so much, he keeps every single letter you've sent him in a big beautiful box..." Jon said pulling an intricate box out of the sack Sam handed to him, he then opened the box to show a whole bunch of letters folded neatly inside, "Quite the method you have, don't you? Slipping in valuable information, amidst mundane things... and then your son makes easy gold by selling that information to whoever is buying... It's ingenious."


"I-I-I—" Daryn stuttered as his eyes rapidly rotated in his head while trying to come up with an appropriate answer but Jon didn't give him any time.


"And your son was kind enough to confess immediately when my men cornered him... so there's no reason to deny it any further, Daryn..."


"Y-You-You" About a dozen different emotions flashed through Daryn's face before it ultimately settled on anger as his eyes turned and he immediately lunged at the man whom he perceived to be the reason for his tragic fate, "Let go of my son, YOU BASTARD!!"


"Oho!!" Jon smiled as he simply sidestepped the bull-like charge from the fat man while at the same tripping him into falling face-first onto the floor with a loud thump.


"Uh, Uh, Uh," Jon tutted while placing his right leg squarely on the man's back when he tried to get back up, "You should stay down, my friend, if you don't want to get hurt..."


"L-Let me go!!" Daryn struggled with all his might but it was futile as the leg on his back was like a mountain, not letting him move a single inch, "C-Commander, you have to save me," he screamed, turning towards the only person he felt could help him, "I-I have the blood of Rsyswell in me! My ancestors have fought for the company for decades—Please, Commander, you need to help me!!" he screamed with all the power in his lungs.


There was a hesitant look in Gared's eyes for a few moments before he noticed the eagerly awaiting eyes of sellswords surrounding him and realised what would happen if he made an exception for this man, so his eyes immediately firmed up and he gave the expected command, "Men! Take him away!!"


"NO!! YOU CAN'T DO THIS TO ME!! I AM A RYSWELL..."


Daryn turned out to be the most deranged one and it took quite a while and a few more guards to drag him away and for the fields to fall silent once again.


By now the sellswords had become somewhat addicted to the quick charges and swift judgments... the drama unfolding before them was almost like a modern crime series for the medieval world and they just couldn't get enough of it.


So they eagerly looked at Sam's legs to figure out whose name was written on the sack at his feet but unfortunately, they were disappointed to find that there were no more sacks left which meant that...


"That was the last of it, right." The second in command asked in an inquisitive tone that hid a small bit of relief in it, "I think this has been a very exhausting night for everyone so we should give the warriors—"


"What's the rush, Commander Rickard," Jon said with a raised eyebrow while looking directly into the eyes of the second in command, "While you're right in that all the small fishes have been dealt with... but there's still one very big fish left," he said while giving Rickard a meaningful smile, "Am I right, Commander Rickard...so should I call you Rattlesnake!"


///


If you want to read a few chapters ahead, you can go to: patreon.com/lazywizard

 

[ATP]

To be honest,Rickard seems like somebody who want replace/kill commander,but not betray Company.Well,i was wrong.

 

[LazyWizard]

Rickard has always hated his name more than anything...


Because it had been given to him not by his parents... but by their killer.


So his name was a constant reminder that he was a prisoner... even though there was no jailer.


He had been born to a slaver father and a slave mother, which wasn't too uncommon in most parts of Essos. His father was a cruel heartless man who didn't care for him much since he was a slave's get and his mother also didn't care for him because he was her slaver's gift.


So from the very beginning of his life, Rickard had the odds stacked against him and had always had to fend for himself. But he never hated that part of his childhood, because that was what made him stronger and smarter than the rest, and it was through these hardships that he understood the most fundamental rule of life...


That the Strong always preys on the Weak... That the Strong will forever remain on top and The weak will always crawl underneath...


This was also why he respected his Father as he was strong, and hated his mother as she was weak...


He had always admired the way his father commanded his slaves, the way he whipped them, cursed them, starved them... without them being able to do anything to retaliate. That in his young mind was... the ultimate power. And he wanted that more than anything.


And since his father was the only powerful man he saw during his younger years, he had always assumed him to be the strongest, and wanted to emulate him when he grew up... but that delusion of his got destroyed very soon after...


He was only seven years old when his father decided to raid the caravan of a Pentosi merchant, who had short-charged him.


The raid went very successfully... he had ambushed them during the night, and instead of indulging in killing them, he had looted all the valuables that he could and fled from there before reinforcements could arrive.


But... while his father was smart about the raid, he had made one simple mistake.


The mistake of revelling in his victory instead of preparing for retaliation... and that mistake cost him his life.


The furious Merchant had immediately hired the nearest sellswords company, to get his revenge, after hearing about the misfortune of his caravan, and his father, drowning in his arrogance, didn't even get a chance to pick up his sword before being killed along with all his men.


And that was the last day he admired his father...


Usually, when a sellswords company finds any children with their targets, they do one of two things, either they immediately take care of them to pull out all the roots... or they leave them to die on their own...


But fortunately for him, the previous commander of the Company of the Rose was too much of a hypocrite to do that. The previous commander could kill the father but he couldn't stomach killing his son... so he was spared, and not only that he was also given the 'mercy' of joining his company.


And so his name was changed to Rickard, to show that he was now a part of them... whether he wanted to or not...


A naive child would have been grateful for the Commander's mercy, but Rickard knew better than that...


He knew that even if a butcher spares a lamb for a day, it didn't mean that the lamb should be thankful, because, after all, the butcher could still decide to change its mind the next day and kill it...


So, he decided that he would bide for time, he would sheathe his fangs, hide his ambitions, hide his hatred, until... he was ready to take his revenge.


Even though he was not the best in Martial might, Rickard shot through the rankings very quickly using his charisma and his cunning, which stood even more amongst the brutes surrounding him.


He was making significant and insignificant achievements in every single battle and was quickly climbing the ladder towards the top... but sadly all of it went down the drain when... before he could get his petty revenge... the previous commander got crippled during an insignificant battle, as sellswords frequently do in Essos, and got retired to Pentos.


But neither his anger nor his ambition went away with him... no, his departure only made them burn even more fiercely.


He decided that the next best thing to killing the commander would be to take over the Company he had worked his whole life for...


But that was easier said than done... especially for someone like him who was an outsider without any of the Northern Blood. But that didn't mean he gave up...


No, to achieve what he desired, he went to extreme lengths, not sparing any method no matter how vile it may seem, whether it be bribery, intimidation, blackmail or even poisoning, he did everything, not leaving a single stone unturned, until finally... he became the Second in Command of the Company.


And now the last obstacle in front of him was the new commander... Gared Hornwood.


Gared was the type of person that Rickard hated the most. He was stubborn, he was headstrong and had more muscle than brain in his body, and not to mention his self-righteous talks and tall tales of his Barbarian ancestors from the North that made Rickard want to puke.


But... Unfortunately, those exact same things are what made him immensely popular amongst the warriors of the Company.


They admired his straightforward nature, and they adored his martial might even more... Even if his so-called honourable decision led the company into financial ruin, they would still happily(foolishly) follow behind him.


But Rickard knew that his greatest strength, his 'honour', was also his most glaring weakness...


The one and only reason why so many young newcomers from Westeros and even from Essos, joined the Company of Rose despite its meagre salary, was... its absolute abhorrence of Slavery.


The Company of Rose had a very impressive record of never in its centuries-old existence, directly or indirectly dabbling in Slavery. This meant that it was somewhat of a safe haven for people who hated slavery to the bone, which was surprisingly... quite a lot.


So, Rickard's goal became very simple... he just had to somehow associate the Commander with someone who was selling people into slavery and profiting from it, and the moment he did he knew for sure no matter the reasons behind it, the Commander's reputation would crumble like a sand castle and everyone would abandon him.


And Rickard was willing to sacrifice anything to achieve his goals, whether it be the Commander's kin or his own... anything...


But now at the most crucial moment, this up-jumped bastard had appeared out of nowhere and was going to ruin all his intricate plans.


"...Or should I call you Rattlesnake."


But Rickard wouldn't let him get his way, "What are you insinuating here?" he asked Jon with an unchanged expression in a calm tone, "Are you saying that I am a spy too?"


"I-Is he mad? Is he really calling the second in command a spy?"


"Yes, how can the second in command be a spy?"


"It must be a mistake, right? Right?"


Almost immediately a series of murmurs ran through the crowd as everyone stared at the centre in disbelief over the new revelation, which was the most shocking one of the evening. This news even shook awake those who were getting sleepy because it was getting past the bedtime of medieval people.


"Oh, no, no. I'm not insinuating that you're a spy, " Jon quickly shook his head with a smile on his face, "Because that would be completely absurd. After all, why would someone of your stature do something as low-level as spying,"


Almost immediately sighs filled the ground at that, some were relieved while others were disappointed at missing out on potential drama.


"So I am not calling you a spy, but... I AM calling you a Traitor!"


Startled gasps rang through the crowd at the unexpected reversal by Jon.


This whole evening had been filled with more ups and downs than these people had seen in their lives, but this one... this one took the crown as even people who were anticipating something like this were shocked.


"A-Are you insane, you bastard!" shouted someone from the crowd with an indignant look on his face, "How can you just call our commander a traitor?"


"Yes! He has been with us for so many years. How could he be a traitor?"


"B-But everyone else he had called out as spies already confessed, didn't they?" came a retort from one of the smarter ones in the crowd, earning a lot of nods and agreements from his neighbours, "So maybe he could also be..."


"Yes, Yes, we should wait for him to present the evidence before deciding—"


"You cunt!! Are you calling Commander Rickard a traitor!!" shouted the first man angrily.


Rickard had been in the company for many long years, and during these years there have obviously been those he had favoured and who had profited due to him. And now was the perfect opportunity for these people to show their loyalty.


"T-Then, are you saying that everyone else from before was also not spies, huh," his opponents were also not backing down, "Are you saying that the man Commander Gared called is a liar? Are you calling our Commander a liar?!"


"Y-You— You bastard!! Do you wanna have a go?!"


"Do you?!"


"ENOUGH!!" Gared bellowed silencing the crowd before the commotion could grow any further. He glared fiercely at the rowdier people in the crowd making them back down before finally turning towards Rickard.


Gared took a long hard scrutinising look at his second in command who stared back with a completely unchanged expression, before he finally turned towards Jon and asked, "What proof do you have, Jon?" Gared's eyes were like chips of ice by now, not giving away any hint of emotion in them.


"The same ones that got everyone before him to confess... letters," Jon said while taking out the final bunch of parchments, that had been carefully tucked in his breast pocket, "The proof is in these letters..." he said waving them in front of the crowd.


"What is in them?" Gared asked with a frown on his face.


"Well... these letters are the sole reason that your son was kidnapped," Jon said calmly, making Gared's eyes widen in wrath, and without wasting a single second he snatched those letters from Jon's hand to read.


"They were written to the sellswords company, Gallant Men... Telling them when and where they could find the commander's son, to easily capture him for ransom," he supplied helpfully for the sake of the anxiously waiting curious crowd.


"But...why are all of them addressed with the name Rattlesnake?" asked Gared without looking up from the letters.


"Oh...Because that is the nickname he chose..." he said while pointing his thumb towards Rickard whose eyebrow twitched irritatedly at the rude gesture, "he probably wanted to remain hidden in case these letters ever got into the wrong hands... very smart and cautious of you, Commander Rickard,"


"Rickard! You—"


"Is that all the evidence you've got," Rickard scoffed at Jon while interrupting Gared before he could jump at Rickard with his question, "A few vague letters written not by me but some imaginary person... Is that all the evidence you've prepared to accuse me?"


"Of course—"


"And even if we assume that these letters or any more of them that you produce are the real deal. How did you even get your hands on them," Rickard had kept a calm expression on his face from the very start unlike the others and while there was a little sweat on his forehead indicating the pressure he was under, he was still the most composed out of all the accused today, "Because I don't think that the people in Gallant Men were kind enough to just hand them over to you on a silver platter when you asked them... So how did you them?"


That was also the burning question on everyone's mind.


From the very start, Jon had been producing evidence after evidence as if he were a magician. He knew things about people that no one knew about, he knew secrets about spies that no one was supposed to know.


And now that they finally got the chance, the crowd was just dying to know the how behind it all...


"Oh... That is something that shall remain a secret," Jon said with a shrug, unbothered by all the curious stares on him, "But there—"


"Do you know that I think?" Rickard once again loudly interrupted Jon, not letting him take even a little bit of the lead, "I think... that you have been sent here by one of our enemies to sow discord in my company... Maybe all the ones before were really not spies, maybe... some of them were just your pawns... pawns that you planted to get to me, they were just your ruse to destroy an important pillar of this Company, so tell us, who paid you to do these things or do you have proof that you're not a spy?"


Almost instantly the atmosphere had completely changed, from people being doubtful of Rickard being a spy, they were now becoming sceptical of whether Jon had been telling the truth all along. Making it so that it was now on Jon to prove that he was not a spy instead of the other way around.


The way Rickard had handled the situation and turned the tables on him had impressed even Jon, but... in his haste, Rickard had forgotten to take one thing into consideration. He forgot who Jon was.


"My name is Jon Snow. My father's name is Eddard Stark, the Lord of Winterfell, Warden in the North. My very blood is enough proof that I would never stoop so low as to anyone's bidding," He said in an eerily calm tone while looking down at Rickard with the air of someone whose very gaze commanded respect. It made everyone in the crowd suddenly feel very uncomfortable and forced them to look away from his eyes.


"But... we are not here to discuss me, are we?" Jon suddenly smiled and with that, the atmosphere abruptly vanished as if it had never been there, making everyone breathe a sigh of relief, "We are here for you... and I knew that you would be the hardest one to crack, so I prepared something very special just for you," he said with a meaningful look at that Rickard that filled his stomach with dread, "Men!! Bring them out!" Jon shouted while turning half of his head towards the fire that was still going strong.


Almost immediately as if they were just waiting for it, two men clad in decent quality armour, that some people recognised as Commander Gared's personal guards, came from behind the fire while herding amidst them two male prisoners with their hands tied and heads bowed down in shame.


They came to stand in front of the fire and roughly shoved the prisoners back to make them kneel.


"Tell me, Rickard, do you recognise—"


"Him!! Him!" Bran's sudden exclamation interrupted Jon's question, "I-I remember him, Father, he was the one who told me about that bounty on the lion cubs," he told Gared while jumping and pointing towards one of the caught prisoners.


"Oho! That is indeed a very pleasant surprise," Jon said with an amused expression on his face before turning towards the scowling second in command, "So tell them, Rickard, do you remember them—"


"I've never seen them in my life," Rickard said indifferently. He was sweating profusely by now but was still trying to maintain a nonchalant expression on his face.


"Commander?!" the prisoners shouted in shock simultaneously with betrayed expressions on their faces.


"Oh don't worry too much," Jon said sympathetically to the two regretful prisoners, "Even if he doesn't recognise you, he will surely recognise the one he sent you to kill... won't you, Rickard?" he asked while turning towards the second in command, who for the first time had pure horror on his face, "Men! Bring out the healer!"


And finally, the last surprise of the evening was brought from behind the fire in the form of the missing healer.


The healer looked as if he had seen better days, his face was badly bruised and he had a long wound on his face that looked as if someone had tried to cut him.


The moment the ageing healer came out and saw Rickard's face, he immediately went nuts, his eyes turned red in anger and he began screaming, "Y-YOU—YOU FUCKING CUNT!! After all that I did for you—All the things you made me do! You paid me back by sending these wretches to kill me, You Ungrateful Vermin!! I will kill—"


"ENOUGH!!" growled Gared finally looking up from the crumpled letters with a chilling look in his eyes that immediately killed all the words in the healer's throat and made him shrink in terror, "I will deal with you later," he said to the healer in calm tone making him shiver before abruptly turning towards Rickard.


Gared abruptly took a slow and heavy step towards Rickard making him flinch back in fear. As the commander walked towards him, Rickard's mind was working furiously trying to come up with any way to get out of this situation but no matter how hard he tried he was coming up empty, "I-I can exp—"


*SMACK*


The slap from Gared was so powerful that it immediately sent Rickard flying straight into the ground and made everyone there, including Jon flinch at the sheer force it contained and the loud clap it produced.


Half of Rickard's face was red because of the massive handprint from Gared's hand on his face while the other half was red from the humiliation of being slapped in front of all the soldiers... soldiers who, before today wouldn't even dare to look in his eyes.


"My father spared your life, he took you in, he clothed you, taught you how to fight," Gared said with a forced look of calm that concealed boiling wrath just underneath the surface, "He took you into the company, gave you a place at our hearth. And I... I honoured you like my brother, gave you a place by my side, trusted your counsel, and gave—"


"OH! SHUT THE FUCK UP!! YOU GAVE ME SHIT!! YOU DID NOTHING FOR ME!! IT WAS ME!! IT WAS ME WHO HELD THIS COMPANY TOGETHER!! YOU WOULD BE NOWHERE WITHOUT ME!! YOU FUCKING BRUTE—"


It was only when he was done did Rickard realise what he had done... his eyes slowly widened in horror as he looked around and realised that, it was all... It was all over.


///

 

[ATP]

So,Rickard was just average psycho.And would win,if not for Jon Snow !

 

[LazyWizard]

"—IT WAS ME!! IT WAS ME WHO HELD THIS COMPANY TOGETHER!! YOU WOULD BE NOWHERE WITHOUT ME!! YOU FUCKING BRUTE—"


The infuriated screams of their second in command echoed in the training ground, reaching every single person present there and leaving them shell-shocked as they finally saw the true face of Rickard for the first time.


There was a tense silence for a few moments during which Jon realised, after seeing the infuriated eyes of Gared, that the following conversation didn't need to be a spectacle for the viewing pleasure of the crowd, as it could seriously hurt the commander's prestige in the long run.


So, Jon immediately turned to Bran who was standing nearby and whispered in his ears, "Make the crowd leave... Now!"


"Huh? Ah, Y-Yes!" Bran only took a second to understand what Jon was implying and immediately took action, "G-Guards! Come with me!" he ordered his father's personal guards, who only hesitated for a few seconds before following after him.


"Men! It's time to leave now," Bran shouted as he went to stand in front of the crowd along with the guards and began gesturing for them to empty the grounds. He tried to emulate his father's tone and posture as much as he could while confronting the crowd, "Go on! Go to your camp! It's time to sleep, now. We have a busy day tomorrow, so don't dawdle anymore. Move!"


The crowd grumbled a bit but didn't resist too much and slowly began to move towards the exit all the while chattering with each other.


"Ah! I wanted to see more of that..."


"What?! Are you serious? How could you want more of that?"


"He's right. I was so relieved when it was finally over..."


"Relieved?"


"Y-Yes. I was scared the whole time that my name was going to be called in next and—"


"What? Why? Did you do something—"


"N-No, of course not. It's just I have a brother in the Company of the Cat, so I thought... Anyway, who would have thought that the commander Rickard was a traitor, huh?"


"I don't think anyone did. He was always such a smart man."


"I did! I knew from the start that the man was a cunning snake, who shouldn't be trusted—"


"Oh! Shut up, Carl, everyone knows how you licked his ass when you accidentally lost your sword..."


"I did not!"


It took a while but the training grounds were almost empty a few minutes later. And only when all the irrelevant people had left or were out of their earshot, did Gared finally break his silence and ask, "Why... Why did you betray me?"


"Betray you?! Don't make it sound like I was your subordinate. Because I was not." The red handprint on his face still stung something fierce, and the humiliation Rickard was feeling was making him lose all control over himself, "I was I, who was your superior before, and It was I who was supposed to be the commander, the only reason you even became one was just because of your cunt of a father—"


"Just for that? Just because of that, you wanted to throw it all away? Just because of a fucking title, you wanted to have my son killed!!"


"If your son was stupid enough to fall for a simple ruse like that, then I only did you a favour by removing his stupidity from this world," Rickard had lost all semblance of his usual calm by now and didn't even seem to care about it. He knew that there was little chance that he was going to be left alive after today, so he thought that he may well let out all the vitriol he had been bottling up until now.


"But you didn't just go after my son, did you? You also went after your own daughter, your own blood? You sick monster! She is the last piece of my sister left in this world and you decided to poison her—"


"Who the fuck cares!! I wanted a son from her! A Son! And you whore of a sister couldn't even do that! It's good that she died while giving birth to the second one, otherwise, I would have killed her myself—"


*Smack*


Gared angrily slammed down his fist and in his wrath he didn't hold back in the slightest, making Rickard's head jerk sideways with a crack so loud that everyone assumed him dead.


But a quick pulse check confirmed that he was just unconscious, and not dead... which didn't mean much as Jon only needed a single look at the fury blazing in Gared's eyes to predict that none of the accused were going to have a good end...


...


Jon's prediction turned out to be correct two days later, as every single spy and traitor was executed in front of the whole company. And in keeping with his roots, Gared himself was the one to execute them... including his own brother-in-law, Rickard.

Jon had been especially worried, that there would be some drama involving Lea, the girl Sam had saved when she found out about her father being executed.


But it seems that he was overthinking, as it turns out that she didn't feel too much about her absentee father, whom she had only conversed a handful of times with in all her life, being a traitor. '


So that matter was resolved quite peacefully...

About two hours after the executions, Jon entered Gared's tent to find him drinking all by himself with a huge jug by his side.


"I am not disturbing, Am I?" Jon asked with a raised eyebrow while remaining at the entrance.


"No, No, Come on in," Gared said eagerly waving Jon in, "I was craving some company anyway. After all, alcohol tastes far better with a friend than all alone," he jested while pouring another mug for Jon.


Jon wasn't too fond of alcohol, especially the cheap variety this world had to offer, but considering the current situation he felt that it would be too much of a hassle to reject it so he just silently took the offered mug and began drinking.


Only the sound of slurping and pouring drinks rang in the tent for the next few minutes as they both silently drank. Before finally, Jon decided to break the awkward silence... with an awkward question, "How do you feel?"


"Argh! I feel fine," Gared grunted while slamming his mug on the wooden table before he looked up and noticed Jon's sceptical look, "No, I really do. It was unpleasant business, no doubt, but it had to be done... and I am very relieved that it was done so quickly and so cleanly. It feels like I've cut off a rotten piece of me and can now finally walk unburdened..."


"That's good then because I was afraid that you were going to be depressed and that I was going to have to cheer you up..." Jon said the last part in a teasing tone.


"Depressed? Ha! I don't even know what that word means!" Gared guffawed loudly while filling up his mug once again.


"Ah! That makes sense..." Jon said nodding his head sagely as if he understood what he was talking about.


Gared burped a little before a reflective look appeared on his face, "Aah! Jon, my friend, I don't know how I'll ever repay you... I didn't even repay you for helping my son previously and now you've gone and done such a huge favour for this company... The debts are piling up and becoming too heavy my friend,"


"Oh, don't worry about it so much. It's only debt if you don't consider me a friend," Jon replied nonchalantly while waving his hand, "Besides, you know what to do if you want to repay the favour so much..."


"What are—Ah! Are you talking about that contract you offered?" Gared asked with a startled expression, "Because if you are then you don't need to worry about it... the moment I am done with my current contract with Myr, I will gladly join you on your ships, and heck I'll even throw in friends and family discount..."


"Oh! I am not too worried about the money, it's just that..." Jon trailed off with a frown on his face, "I'm in a bit of a hurry here, so It would be perfect if there's a clause in your contract that allows you to cancel it in advance with some monetary penalty..."


"I am afraid there's no such thing in the contract, but.." Gared hesitated for a few seconds before his eyes firmed up, "But if you really are in such a hurry then I could forcibly cancel the contract unilaterally without caring about those nobles in Myr..."


"But...that would ruin your reputation wouldn't it?"


"A little bit," Gared answered with a shrug downplaying it. He also didn't mention the fact that he would probably be blacklisted by most of the Magisters and Nobles in the free cities after the news about his breach of contract got out.


"Then that would leave a bad taste in my mouth..." Jon murmured with an annoyed expression on his face, "...How long did you say your contract was going to last, again?"


"About five more months, I think..." Gared answered with a scrunched-up face, "Ah! Unless of course, we somehow manage to achieve the primary objective for which we were hired, then the contract would be over immediately," he added as an afterthought with a chuckle as if the very notion of it was ridiculous.


"Primary objective? What's that?" Jon asked with a gleam in his eyes as his back straightened and he gave Gared his full attention.


"The same one that every company here got— To conquer more land..." Gared replied as if it were obvious.


"To Conquer land?"


"Yes, That's what we're all here for, Aren't we? To steal land from the opposite side," Gared explained before he noticed that Jon still had a frown on his face so he decided to elaborate.


"Here, Imagine that all of the Disputed Lands is an apple pie," He cleared a portion of the table and then drew an invisible circle using his finger, "Now if we divide the pie into three, they could all be the three portions of this land that are occupied simultaneously by the three cities of Myr, Tyrosh and Lys," he drew three lines in the circle, separating it into three triangular pies, "Now, we—are here at this border on Myr's side," He pointed his finger along the line separating Myr and Tyrosh.


"I knew all that. I just want to know about the primary objective part... because as far as I know, your main task was supposed to guard the lands occupied by the three cities..."


"You're not wrong but the guarding is just our secondary objective, and the main reason Myr hired us or any other sellswords company for that matter is to steal the land from the opposite side," Gared explained before shrugging, "But of course, that doesn't happen too much because none of the sellswords company wants to take too many risks for a little more gold when they could just compromise and earn a little less for a long time..."


"Hmm..." Jon thought about what Gared said for a moment before he looked up and asked the most important question, "Who are the ones on the other side? I mean the sellsword's company guarding the opposite border of Tyrosh?"


"Hmm... There are about five companies out there, I think," Gared said after contemplating for a while, "But most of them are little-known smaller ones, and don't have anything more than hundred to one-fifty warriors, and the only big one among them is the very famous company, Company of the Cat, with almost three thousand personnel."


"...And what about on our side?"


"Well, the big ones on our side are the Windblown led by the Tattered Prince, with about 2500 members and oh, of course, our own...."


Jon fell silent for quite a while after that. In fact, he was silent for so long that Gared assumed that the conversation was over but just when he was about to get up to get another jug of alcohol, Jon abruptly jolted awake from his deep-thinking expression and said in a determined voice, "Let's do it!"


"Huh? Do what?" Gared asked with a bewildered expression on his face.


"Your men are still training for that non-existent battle against the Gallant Men right?" Jon asked instead of answering.


"Yes..."


"Then let's give them the fight they are waiting for..." Jon said while standing with a bright smile on his face.


...
A Week Later


It was the time of evening, just an hour before the sun was about to set.


A cool breeze ruffled the flaps of hundreds upon hundreds of tents lying on a large hill in the Disputed lands. This hill came under the land occupied by Tyrosh and on it laid the camp of the sellswords company, Company of the Cat.


The company of the cat, also known as Cats, was one of the more famous companies active in Essos. It was led by a captain known as Bloodbeard, a red-bearded savage commander, who has a ferocious appetite for slaughter and enjoys both wine and women abundantly.


Five great pots were standing on big fires in the middle of the tents and behind each of the pots stood a cook with ladles in their hands.


One of the cooks looked into the pots and after seeing that it was almost cooked he nodded towards a nearby young aide who immediately ran towards a small hanging bell and began striking it with a tiny hammer in quick succession making a loud ringing noise resound throughout the camp.


The moment sound reached their ears, all the sellswords quickly stopped whatever they were doing and eagerly left their tents in groups with wooden plates and bowls in their hands.


They quickly began to line up in front of the pots, impatiently waiting for their turn to get their food. The cooks were not slow either, they filled the bowls with soup with their right hand and handed over a piece of bread with their left hand, making the line move very quickly.


Some distance from the big pots stood a smaller pot, it seemed to be filled with a much more aromatic soup with a higher quantity of meat in it. It was a pot that was placed there exclusively to serve only a limited number of higher-ranked people in the company and the normal sellswords could only look at it enviously from afar.


A fit slender man with lustrous black hair took his food from the smaller pot but instead of going towards the only wooden table there where the higher-ups sat, he roamed among the foot soldiers sitting on the ground. His eyes roved left and right as if searching for something before he finally found what he was looking for and began walking towards an isolated spot at the end of the hill.


There was only a single person sitting on the edge with a half-finished plate of soup and bread forsaken beside him. The man with rat-brown hair seemed to be lost in his thoughts and was watching the sun slowly sink over at the horizon.


"So there you are..." Oberyn greeted the short-haired man with a smile while taking a seat beside him.


"You found me..." replied Obara, Oberyn's eldest, with a sigh.


She already had the manliest of faces amongst all her sisters, so it didn't take more than a haircut to make her look like a man to fit in among the sellswords. When her father had expressed his desire to roam the Essosi wilderness, Obara had immediately expressed her wish to accompany him and Oberyn, who rarely stopped his daughters from doing anything, agreed with a few conditions.


"I did..." Oberyn nodded his head before raising his eyebrow at the half-finished food plate and asked, "You didn't finish your food today either..."


"This is not worthy of being called food!" she snorted as her mouth curled up in disgust, "This soup is just salt water with not a single piece of meat in it and this bread is even harder and drier than a piece of rock. Not even dogs would eat this shit..."


"My dear daughter, didn't I teach you that life is all about compromises..."


"Ugh! I don't want to hear about it, especially from you," she said while glaring enviously at the plate in his hands, "Why do I get to eat such repulsive fare while you can indulge in that meat-filled soup."


"That is of course, because I am the best fighter in this company and they know it," her father replied with an arrogant smirk. "So you can get the same fare if you can somehow beat me..."


"Che!" Obara clicked her tongue and turned her head away with a disgruntled look on her face, "Why are we even here, anyway."


"To have fun... and get some battle experience, along the way," he replied while taking a piece of bread and dipping it into the soup.


"What experience?! We have been here in this trash company for more than three months now, and have only been in two battles, and they too were nothing more than skirmishes. All we ever do is eat, train and guard... I would have gotten a lot more experience fighting bandits back home than here..."


"Why, Obara, do I hear a hint of defeat in your tone? Don't tell me you want to go back so soon. Because I clearly seem to remember someone insisting that they could handle all the hardships that would come their way without complaining a single time, and now you want to give up just because the food is bad..."


"I am not giving up!" Obara retorted angrily, "I just don't want to fucking waste my time lazing away with these excuses of warriors who are too afraid to get into an actual battle."


"Fine..." Oberyn sighed before taking a long sip of his soup, "If it bothers you so much, I guess we can leave this company and move to another one... The Second Sons, perhaps, I hear they regularly get into battles—" midway through his sentence, Oberyn abruptly stopped with his eyes widened in shock before he suddenly turned to the side and spit out everything that was in his mouth.


"What? What happened?" she asked in an alarmed tone as she saw her father coughing and spitting as much of his food as he could.


Oberyn didn't immediately reply, instead, he once again picked up the bowl of soup and placed it under his nose.


He closed his eyes and smelled the soup for a whole minute before his eyes opened with a grim look. He threw his bowl away and did the same with his daughter's abandoned bowl but got the same result.


"W-What are you doing father?"


Oberyn still didn't reply, he just silently turned his head towards the camps and took a long pondering look at the huge pots that were almost empty by now after having served most of the company.


Oberyn stayed in that position and thought for quite a while before he shook his head with a sigh and stood up. "We need to go, Obara!" he said and immediately began walking towards the camps.


"Wha—Wait!" Obara quickly jumped up and followed after her father and tried to match his brisk pace, "What happened exactly? Why are you in such a hurry?"


"There's no time to explain," Oberyn said in a low tone, his eyes scanning left to right as if expecting enemies to jump out of the shadows at any moment, "I need you to go get your things from camp, and meet me at the stables as soon as you can,"


"But—"


"Now!" he growled with a scary look before leaving her behind without waiting for her answer.


"Ugh!" Obara grunted in frustration but didn't dare disobey her father, and immediately began running towards her tent.


She shared a tent with three more men but they were all out eating their dinner at the moment so she thankfully didn't meet anyone when she entered.


She didn't have too much to pack as most of the money and other valuables usually stayed with Oberyn in his much bigger personal tent, so she just took the essentials such as her main weapon, a dagger, and a small bundle filled with clothes and some meat jerky before moving towards the exit.


After leaving her tent she immediately made for the stables at a quick pace. Along the way, she got many weird looks, but no one came up to her to ask why she was carrying her clothes with her.


A few minutes later she caught sight of her father standing against the fenced stables, tapping his foot impatiently, "What took you so long?" Oberyn asked in a hushed tone, before immediately jumping over the fence straight into the midst of the horses.


"I was as fast as—wait, where are the rest of your things," she exclaimed in bewilderment while following him, as she knew that he had more than a chest filled with expensive things in his tent and not just the small bundle he carried on his back.


"No time," Oberyn replied shortly while moving purposefully towards his personal horse, "You can take that one," he pointed towards a nearby horse that was a bit more robust than its neighbours.


"Y-Yes!"


"Let's go then," he said the moment Obara had mounted her horse.


They slowly cantered on their horses towards the only exit in the stables, but just as they were about to exit, a shabby smelly man suddenly jumped in front of them out of nowhere.


"Oi! Oi! When did you get in—and where the hell are you taking the horses?!" he asked angrily while spreading his arms wide to stop them from leaving.


"We are on urgent business for the commander," Oberyn replied in a stern voice while glaring at the stable hand, "Move!"


"N-No!" the man flinched a little but stood his ground, "No, the last time someone stole a horse, the commander almost castrated me, I-I won't let you go unless you can get the commander here—" his eye widened and his words abruptly stopped, courtesy of a spear that entered his neck faster than he could blink.


"Let's go," Oberyn repeated while pulling his spear out of the gurgling man, and placing it back horizontally on the horse.


Obara didn't ask any questions and just quietly followed after her father as they galloped towards the exit. She knew that if her father was ruthless enough to kill a bystander, then surely something was very wrong here.


"Who goes there!!" shouted the guard standing in front of the wooden barricades that acted as the camp's entry and exit.


"Urgent business, Commander Order!" her father repeated the same excuse, but Obara was afraid that they wouldn't be able to reply with the same method if they got caught again.


Because unlike the unarmed stable hand, there were almost five guards here, each of them armed with swords, and even if she and her father, somehow managed to deal with them, they would create enough clamour to alert the other sellswords and then they would be done for.


"I didn't get such orders," The guard answered with a confused look on his face.


"Because it's urgent, you idiot!" Oberyn barked loudly, making the guard flinch, "Here, the commander's personal letter," he said while taking a letter from his pocket and throwing it at the man.


"Um..." the guard hurriedly picked up the letter and opened it, but he was barely literate and could only read the first line with some difficulty when Oberyn shouted once again.


"Read enough?! Now, open the gates... Quickly!" He glared impatiently at the guard with his infamous viper gaze that he kept only for his enemies, making the guard flinch.


"O-Open it!" the leader ordered the other guards after a bit of hesitation, as he was quite scared of the Westerosi man and didn't want to interrupt the Commander's business now that he had gotten the letter as proof.


The moment the guards raised the wooden plank, the two horses galloped out through with their fastest speed and a few minutes later, they were no more than a small dust cloud in the distance.


"Y-You had the commander's letter?" Obara asked in a confused tone after they had gotten far enough from the camp and slowed the horses to a normal pace.


"Of course not," Oberyn replied with a scoff, "That was just your uncle's latest letter urging me to come back,"


"Oh..." Obara let out simply, trying not to show how impressed she was with her face, as her father was already quite arrogant and didn't need any big of a head, "Well... can you tell me now, what the rush was all about?"


"There was poison in the food," Oberyn said in a grim tone.


"I gathered that much," Obara replied impatiently, "But why did we have to leave immediately? We could have just found the bastards who did it and taken care of them, why did we have to run away like—"


"The poison wasn't just in my food," Oberyn interrupted his daughter calmly, "Yours was also poisoned... and so was probably everyone else's..."


"Wha—my food was poisoned?! B-But I ate almost half of that!" she burst out with a pale face.


"Don't worry. The poison wasn't fatal, just some harmless laxatives... It would just leave you powerless and with a belly ache for the next few hours, that's all..."


Obara immediately slumped on her horse in relief at the information before looking up and asking, "But then that means..."


"Yes! There's probably going to be a large-scale battle tonight," he said with a quick glance back at the calm camp in the distance.


"B-But couldn't we have alerted the others, and prepared for the enemy," she still didn't feel too good about running away like cowards. She could almost imagine getting laughed at by her sisters when they heard about it.


"It was too late by the time I found out, most of the sellswords were already halfway through their food," Oberyn shook his head, "And besides if someone went through all this trouble to poison everyone, then they most definitely had some form of surveillance over the camp to make sure nothing goes wrong, and I didn't want to spook them into attacking earlier..."


"W-Who could it have been?"


"Probably one of the other sellswords company—" Oberyn began to say but halfway through his words, he was distracted by a massive fire back in the camp, "Oh! looks like it has already started..."


"That's the food storage right..." Obara asked in a stunned voice.


"Yes, it is," Oberyn nodded grimly, "It's going to be a long and bloody night for the Cats..."


///

If you want to read ahead go to: patreon.com/lazywizard

And check out my new fic: Weasley is our King

 

[ATP]

Well,it was effective - but how Jon manage to poison soup? he is warg,but animals could not do that.Or...could they ?

 

[MovingTarget]

Well,it was effective - but how Jon manage to poison soup? he is warg,but animals could not do that.Or...could they ?

Click to shrink...

Im assuming its a big pot over a fire, bird drops a pellet of poision into it should be doable

 

[ATP]

Im assuming its a big pot over a fire, bird drops a pellet of poision into it should be doable

Click to shrink...

Plausible exsplanation.And now,He would be on Oberyn radar.Maybe even one of his doughters would spy on him personally?
How lewd !

 

[LazyWizard]

The hill on top of which the Company of Cats had lain their camp was chosen after a lot of thought.


Three sides of the hill were completely barren while the tall grasses on the fourth side had been regularly culled for about 200 meters away from camp so that anyone approaching them could easily be spotted from afar.


And even though the hill wasn't too high, it was still steep enough that anyone thinking of attacking them would have to climb an uphill battle while the defenders would have the advantage of downward momentum.


Jon and Sam were crouched and hiding among the tall yellow grass on the fourth side. They were at the very end just before the grass stopped, so they were easily able to watch the camp from their position while the sellswords up there couldn't notice them.


"She's back," Jon suddenly whispered, and Sam immediately looked up with searching eyes and sure enough not even a second later he caught sight of a colourful little critter flying towards them from the direction of the camp.


When Tweety reached above their heads, Jon extended his right hand and a moment later he caught a thin earthen bottle in his palm thrown by the bird before she perched on his shoulder.


Jon silently handed the bottle to Sam, who immediately placed it on the ground alongside five other empty ones, before putting his hand inside his armour to take out a new bottle.


"I think that should be enough bottles for now, Sam," Jon said stopping Sam from pulling out another bottle of poison, "I don't think Tweety needs to make another trip,"


"Are you sure? I mean what if she missed or spilled a little outside the pots? Shouldn't we pour a little more just to be sure..." Sam asked fidgeting with the bottle in his hand.


*Chirp* *Chirp*


Tweety answered Sam before Jon could even open his mouth. She squeaked out in an indignant melody while puffing up her chest and ruffling her feathers angrily.


Usually, Jon left most of the heavy work and long-distance things under the purview of Frost, so Tweety rarely gets the chance to shine. But when it comes to sneaky things like this, she was the only expert he had among his wargs as because of her insane speed and small size, she could go in and out of most places without anyone noticing, so the little birdy was quite proud and defensive of her work.


"Fine, Fine, I believe you," Sam apologized hastily while raising his hands in surrender towards the fuming hummingbird.


Jon suppressed his chuckles to save Sam the embarrassment before he cleared his throat, "Sam, I don't think I'll need you for the next part, so you should—Oh!" Jon abruptly stopped mid-sentence and raised his head towards the sky as if someone had called him.


"W-What happened, Jon? D-Did someone find out?" Sam asked nervously as his eyes involuntarily went towards the camp to see if he could make out any commotion.


"Hmm...Maybe..." Jon murmured with a frown on his face.


"Huh? What do you mean?"


"Well, two people just left the camp on horses and they are moving away at quite a fast speed as if they were running away from—Oh!" Jon stopped midsentence once again as he finally caught sight of the faces on the horses.


"What? Why did you stop? Did they really notice us? Should we run away? What should—Wait! Why are you smiling like that?" Sam asked in a bewildered tone as he saw a wide smile appear on the young northerner.


"No, Nothing," Jon quickly shook his head while trying to suppress his grin, "We don't need to worry about them."


"Are you sure?"


"Yes. Even if those runaways found out about the poison, they probably decided to not share their findings with their friends and run away alone since most of the sellswords in the camp are still laughing around and happily eating their food."


"But why would they—"


"Don't worry about them," Jon repeated in a firm tone, "Now, as I was saying before, the next part only needs me so you should go join the others," he pointed his thumb towards the back where they had come from.


Jon and Sam hadn't ventured on this adventure all alone, three more from the Company of the Rose had joined them, namely, Bran, an experienced guard and a young stable hand. Jon didn't want to answer too many questions so he made them stop some distance back giving the excuse that more people would mean less stealth, which wasn't false.


"Yes, I understand," Sam finally nodded his head before raising himself from his crouched position but still making sure to remain hidden in the grass. But just before leaving Sam turned to Jon and asked something he was really curious about, "But how are you going to get past them, Jon," he pointed his finger towards the camp where two sellswords acting as look-outs were standing right at the edge.


While even Sam could see from afar that the guards weren't particularly alert or diligent about their jobs, he was sure that even those slackers would notice if Jon ran straight towards the camp through the open ground ahead of them.


"Using a simple magic trick... Why, Do you want to see it?"


"Yes."


"Well, then Tweety, show him your magic," he turned to his friend with a mischievous smile, who chirped happily and immediately took off.


...


The two guards on the lookout were barely looking out as most of their attention was back towards the camp where they could see the fires from the dinner rising high up in the sky.


"Sss! I can already smell the soup all the way here," one of the guards groaned as his stomach growled loudly.


"Don't do that, you idiot. The more you think about it, the harder it is going to be to endure the wait."


"Argh! But why! Why do we have to wait..." the guard replied in a disgruntled and envious tone, "I just hate those lucky bastards. While we are stuck here guarding this barren land where nobody has stepped a foot in years, they are out there happily enjoying their food..."


"But what can we do about it? We can only get our food after they have had their fill and the next shift arrives to relieve us. So you should suck up and—Argh!!" the guard abruptly covered his eyes and screamed before bending down.


"W-What? What happened?"


"A b-bird! A fucking bird just shit on me, argh!"


"What?" he barked trying to suppress his laughter while pulling his friend's hand away from his face only to see that both of his eyes were completely covered in white goo which immediately made him lose his control, "Pfft! Haha!!"


"Don't laugh you bastard!!"


"But h-how can you be so unlucky as to—Argh! Fuck!" halfway through mocking his friend, the guard screamed as he got served the same dish as his friend.


"Hahaha! Serves you right for laughing at me!!"


"Shit! Fuck this! I am going back to my camp to clean this filth!" he cursed and then made for the camp without looking back.


"But the captain—Ah! Curse you!" he screamed before immediately chasing after his friend.


...


"T-That was brilliant, Jon. Jon?!" Sam exclaimed in awe before he turned around but he got no answer as Jon had left his place and was already halfway towards the hill.


"Good luck, Jon," Sam mumbled to himself while looking at Jon before he turned and ran back through the grass to join the others.


...


The Camp of Cats had long wooden fences surrounding it on all sides like any other long-term sellword camp in Essos. But while these fences were usually supposed to keep the enemies out, in this instance they were mighty helpful in keeping Jon hidden.


Jon ran silently along the border of the camp while making sure to remain crouched at all times so that unless someone was looking directly at him through the fences, they wouldn't be able to spot him through the crisscrossing fence.


He ran past the empty ground where most of the sellswords were eating their dinner and then past the big tent that he knew was the food storage, and then past a few smaller tents before he finally reached his destination—the stables.


The fences surrounding the stable were a bit higher and had spiky sharp ends sticking out of either side so that horses didn't vault over it and run away. But Jon didn't have much of a problem jumping over the fence with his athletic body.


He landed on his hand and then rolled to stop his forward momentum before standing up and the moment he did, he was hit by the pungent smell of horse shit.


Jon was surrounded on all sides by horses of all kinds, some were brown, some were black, some were standing in their place and chewing hay while others were looking curiously towards him and others still had their eyes closed and were taking a nap.


It only took a single glance for him to see that there were something like 40 horses here and all of them were of excellent breed and in battle-ready condition, "This is quite the haul..." Jon murmured with a satisfied expression on his face.


"Now where is your caretaker, my friends," he asked distractedly to a nearby horse while taking out a dagger from his waist. The horse looked confused for a moment before jerking his head towards the entrance of the stable.


Jon nodded his head and began to move sneakily towards the entrance but it didn't take him more than a few steps to find that someone else had gotten to his target before him.


"Oho! Looks like someone ran afoul of the red viper..." Jon only needed a single look at the clear spear wound in the stablehand's throat to see who had done him in, "Well all the better for me," he shrugged while sheathing his dagger.


Jon knew that the time was tight so he immediately went to work on his next task... which was to get all these horses to agree to run away with him.


He went towards the nearest horse and after looking it in the eye for a few seconds, he created a faint rudimentary connection. Only a few moments later, he was done with his task as they came to an agreement, so he didn't waste any time in cutting open its rope and moving on to the next one.


One after the other, Jon freed the horses after spending a few seconds bonding with each of them. And not a single horse tried to create a clamour or escape from the stable using their new-found freedom, instead, they all patiently stood in their place while waiting for Jon to finish with the others.


A few minutes later, Jon was finally done communicating with the last of the horses and had gotten an agreement from every single horse in there to come with him.


And unlike what it looked from the outside, Jon wasn't actually trying to control all these horses, because even he with his robust mental strength would not have been able to control more than a few horses at the same time, but if it was just a short-term agreement to follow his orders then it was a bit more doable given enough time.


"Phew! That's finally taken care of." Jon sighed while wiping a bit of sweat from his forehead, "Now, for the last part..."


He took out a thin wooden makeshift torch he had prepared beforehand from his waistband, before pulling out a small bottle of alcohol from his pocket. He then proceeded to pour all the alcohol slowly over the torch end, to make sure that the fire wasn't doused by the wind.


A small stove near the stable entrance took care of the fire part, as with Jon's years of outdoor camping experience it only took him a few tries with the nearby tools to get the fire running.


He quickly lit the torch using the small fire in the stove before hurriedly dousing it just to be safe. A few seconds later when the fire was completely stable on the torch, Jon stood up and went towards the side of the fence he had entered the stable from before looking towards the sky, "It's your turn next, my friend..."


'I'm ready,' came the immediate reply from Frost, so Jon didn't waste any more time before chucking the burning torch straight into the sky as high as he could. Not even a second later a blue flash of light passed by and the torch disappeared from his view as if it had never been there, "Let's get the heat up, Frost,"


....


"Is it time?"


The gruff voice shook Gared out of his concentration, so he lowered the far-eye from his face and turned towards the Tattered Prince, before replying, "No, but it will be soon..."


The Tattered Prince was the first and only commander of the sellswords company, Windblown. He was a fifty-something-year-old man, with silver grey hair and an appearance so ordinary that he could easily disappear in a crowd the moment he took off his silver mail and his colourful tattered cloak.


They were both standing on a steep mountain a few leagues away from the Camp of Company of the Cats and from their location, Gared was able to get a clear view of the camp and what was happening in there using the Far-eye Jon had given him.


"The sun is going to set in about an hour," murmured the old commander while looking at the horizon, "So I hope that whatever plan you've cooked up occurs soon because I don't fancy having a night battle."


"Oh! Don't worry too much, Old Man," Gared said with a mysterious gleam in his eyes, "This battle is going to be the easiest and most fortuitous one of your life. You can trust me on that."


"Don't call me an Old Man, I'm only twenty years older than you, boy," snapped the white-haired old man, "And besides I wouldn't have brought all my warriors here if I didn't trust you," he said waving his hand behind him, where stood lines and lines of warrior readying their weapons and waiting for the order from their commander to set off towards their target.


Almost two thousand of these fighters belonged to the Windblown, while the other five hundred belonged to the Company of Roses. And even though they hadn't been allowed to set up camp so there were no tents signifying their different allegiance, anyone would have been able to pick the sellswords from the two companies apart.


The sellswords from one company had good quality weapons and armour while the other had shabby equipment, they were well-maintained but they were old. While one company boasted over two hundred horses ready to charge into battle, the other only had foot soldiers.


"Really? Because I thought that you only came because the ones we're about to attack are the Cats..." Gared chuckled with a sly smile on his face. It was an open secret that the Company of Cats and the Windblown had bad blood between them, both companies had fought in battle with each other on more than a few occasions, and both wanted nothing more than to tear the other to pieces.


"Even if I wanted to wipe these currs from the face of Essos," he said while looking at the far-away camp with distaste before shaking his head, "I would not be so stupid as to attack them in their well-fortified camp when they are ready... So I hope that what you had promised me comes true... for your own sake..."


It hadn't been too hard for Gared to persuade the old sellsword to join him in his crusade. Of course, he had to give away a few concessions including, leaving most of the loot they would get if they managed to defeat the Cats. But Jon had repeated many times that as long as the company came under him, they would never have any problem with money or weapons so Gared didn't feel that it was too much of a loss.


"What have you got to worry about?" Gared snorted at the not-so-hidden threat, "After all, I already said that we would be in the vanguard."


"Well, then I hope you live up to your honourable reputation and keep your promise, because—" halfway through his words, the Tattered Prince stopped and looked towards the enemy camp with narrowed eyes, "Is that the signal we are waiting for?"


"Wha—Oh!" Gared exclaimed as he followed the old man's finger and caught sight of a sky-reaching fire that was burning the biggest tent in the camp.


"I'll sound the horn," the commander of Windblown said resolutely while turning away.


"No, wait!" Gared had the far-eye back on his eye and was moving it left and right along the camp as if searching for something, "Not yet!"


"What?! What are you talking about?" the Tattered prince asked in a bewildered tone, "If I am not wrong then that is the food storage burning out there. What else could you be waiting for?"


Gared didn't answer his fellow commander instead he just focused more closely on the camp.


He saw the mayhem and panic that the sudden fire had caused as the sellswords ran hither tither frantically trying to douse the fire using pails of water and the nearby sand but it wasn't helping too much.


It was as he was focusing on the fire that Gared abruptly caught sight of the first victim of their scheme.


A man in the midst of carrying a pail of water towards the raging fire suddenly sported an uncomfortable look on his face before he suddenly fell down to his knees while holding onto his stomach.


Not many paid him any attention at first as they were too busy with the fire but when the second one and then the third one followed soon after, people began noticing that something worse than fire was happening to them. But it was too late by then as people began falling left and right complaining of weakness, nausea and the unbearable urge to... shit.


"Your plan really worked!" the old sellsword exclaimed in a surprised but delighted tone, "We need to go, now. It's the perfect time to strike. We should hit them before they get a chance to regather."


"No! Just wait a few more—Ah! There it is!" Gared said in an excited tone as he finally caught sight of the scene he was searching for.


While most of the company was focused on controlling the fire and helping their poisoned comrades, a third problem suddenly presented itself as the horses abruptly broke free from their stables and ran out towards the exit all on their own.


If there were just a few of them coming towards them, then the guards at the exit might have even put up a modicum of effort to try and stop them from leaving, but the herd of horses galloping furiously towards them was so scary that they all willingly jumped out their path and let them run away scott-free.


"How did you get the horses—"


"It's time!" Gared said as he cut off his fellow commander's curious question while placing the far-eye back in his pocket, "Let's go," and then without wasting any more time he picked up the horn by his side and turned towards the waiting warrior before breathing into it with all his might.


*POOOOO*


"MEN!! LET'S GO KILL SOME CATS!!"


"YYYEESSSS!!!!"


...


The moment the herd cleared enough distance from the camp, Jon pulled the reins and raised himself to be in an upright position once again.


To not raise any suspicion or attract the attention of any archer Jon had been riding the horse sideways while escaping. A difficult task even for the most trained knight but Jon had been riding on horses since he could walk and talk so it wasn't that hard for him, in addition being a warg helped a lot.


"Ha!" he shouted, urging his horse to run faster before he escaped his position in the middle of the herd and went to the front.


He slowly began steering the horses away from the camp while changing the direction so that they began heading straight for the rendezvous point he had agreed upon with Sam.


The thunderous sound of a war horn made him perk his head up towards the distant mountain and not even a minute later he was greeted by the sight of his allied sellswords charging down at their maximum speed towards the Camp of the Cats.


From their speed, it shouldn't take them more than a few minutes to reach the camp which would usually be enough time for a well-prepared company to prepare their defences but today... that was just a pipe dream for the Cats.


Other than a few looks to make sure that nothing outwardly was happening, Jon didn't bother with the attacking force too much, as he had already done all he could to help in the battle and now it was the turn for Gared, his company and his allies to make contributions and deal with the rest, so Jon focused on leading the prized horses.


He reached close to his destination about ten minutes later, by which the battle was raging ferociously all over at the camp behind him.


"Jon!" Sam exclaimed as he finally caught sight of him, and eagerly began pushing his horse as he and his three companions began riding along sideways with the herd. Along with Sam came his own horse, Peggy and Jon didn't waste a single moment jumping and changing from one horse to another without breaking their stride.


"Are we going back to the base, Jon?" Sam asked ignoring the superhuman feat Jon had performed as if it was mundane.


"No, we need to do something first," Jon said before he turned towards the commander's son and shouted, "Bran! You and the young lad will lead the horses from here on out," he said while nodding towards the young stable hand beside him, "Don't worry too much, these horses are quite tame and shouldn't give you too much trouble. You just need to ride in front of them and they will follow you all the way towards the camp."


...


A few minutes later Jon and Sam broke off from the group and set off in a completely different direction.


"Where are we going, Jon?"


"To meet with a dear acquaintance of ours..." Jon said with a wolfish smile on his face.


///

 

[ATP]

And that is how you should use your power,if you are warg.Not taking over wild animals and attacking enemy soldiers,like children did in Westeros against Andals.
If they used this tactic,they would still hold Westeros.

P.S Interesting,what Jon would do when he meet Oberyn.He do not really need him,right ?

 

[MorbiIIionaire]

Just binged this, great stuff!!

 

[LazyWizard]

"Should we make a stop and pitch our tent now, Father," Obara asked while glancing towards the slowly darkening sky as they rode their horses through a rough rocky path amidst flatland filled with grasses.


They had left the Camp of Cats about an hour and a half ago, and while they weren't galloping at their fastest speed at the moment like they were earlier, they were still moving away from the camp at a constant pace, so Obara was sure that they should be out of the crosshairs of the battle by now and can take a rest without worrying, and besides... "It'll be night soon, Father, and I don't want to move blindly in these unfamiliar mountains."


"Just a bit more... and we'll reach a narrow gorge between valleys,"


The path that Oberyn was taking them through was somewhat of a shortcut to Myr, the nearest free city. But the path was still a relatively unknown one because the natural gorge they were about to cross was very unsuitable for an army to pass through... as it was the perfect sight for an ambush. But they could take this path without much fear as no one would bother to ambush them out here in Essos.


"So we shall camp at that canyon's entrance..." Oberyn continued distractedly as most of his mind was still back on the poison he had tasted in the camp.


The poison had just been too familiar for him to easily forget... the moment he had tasted it Oberyn had felt as if someone had taken a poison straight out of his own cabinet and then tried to feed it to him...


"Is that the Gorge you were talking about, Father," Obara asked about ten minutes later while excitedly pointing towards the rocky canyon in the distance.


She hadn't exactly had a filling dinner that day, and even though the poison had run its course through her body by now, it had still left her very weakened. So she was very relieved that they were soon going to set up camp as she wanted nothing more at that moment than to eat her fill and sleep the night off.


"Let's go then—"


"No! Wait!" Oberyn suddenly hissed while stopping his excited daughter from galloping towards their destination.


"Whoa!! What happened?"


"Look at that," he calmly replied while pointing towards a thin black cloud of smoke that was almost invisible in the impending night, "There's a fire at the entrance... someone's here before us..."


...


The shadows danced wildly behind Jon as he warmed his hands around the fire. He was sitting on a rock located at the entrance to the gorge, while Sam was a few feet behind him, humming as he fed hay to Peggy and his own horse.


Jon had made the horses use their full speed to reach this location before their target so Sam's horse was completely exhausted, but Peggy looked as if it had been nothing more than a warm-up and was still good to go.


"They are here," Jon's abrupt announcement broke the silence of the night, startling Sam out of his zone. But it only took the young Tarly a second to gather himself and he immediately dropped the feed in his hand and jogged towards his luggage.


After taking out his axe and his shield from the luggage, he strapped them in before quickly running to stand behind Jon in an alert stance. After taking a few deep breaths, he began looking vigilantly at the tall grasses surrounding the entrance, waiting for their quarry to come out.


But they didn't...come out.


A minute passed... then two... and even when five minutes passed and his hands began aching from holding the same position, not a single came out of the foliage. But just as Sam was about to open up his mouth to ask Jon about it... he spoke up.


"Why not join me, if you're already here," he shouted while casually looking towards a point in the darkness where Sam could see nothing but tall withering grasses.


But once again, no one came forward... it was as if there was no one out there and that Jon had just made an embarrassing mistake, but Sam knew that that wasn't possible, so he didn't lose his vigilance in the slightest.


"Come now, I thought we already became familiar enough with each other after the last time we met... So do we need to be so vigilant of each other once again... Prince Oberyn."


A loud snort came from the darkness before two tall silhouettes on horses came out from amidst the grasses one after the other.


Both of them had the typical Dornish looks, one was a tall fit man with snake-like eyes who was looking at Jon with a not-so-amused smile, while the other was a similarly slender but muscular "man" with rat-brown hair and was looking quite irritated. Both of them carried their spear in their hands and neither of them bothered to get off of their horses as they came into the clearing in front of Jon and Sam.


"You know them, Father?" Obara asked abruptly in a hostile tone before Oberyn could answer Jon. The Dornishwoman was quite irate at the moment that just when a good night of sleep looked so close at hand, these people appeared and ruined it for her.


"Just some acquaintances I met during my visit to Citadel," Oberyn replied without looking away from the two lads, who had grown up quite a lot since the last time he had seen them.


The fat child who couldn't stop shaking due to fear last time, was now standing tall and fit, with an axe in his while looking at Oberyn with a nervous but determined gaze. And the other one, the one who had held a dagger to his daughter's throat right in front of him and had even dared to steal from him, seemed to have grown up to become even more calm and brazen... considering that he was still casually sitting on his rock uncaring about the spears in their hands.


Of course, unlike before, he now knew who they were.


There were not many 12-year-old fat runaway nobles in the world so he only needed a few days after their encounter to find out that one of the rats was named Samwell Tarly. The other one had been an enigma to him for a while... until he got that letter from his friend Willas Tyrell asking him to find out about a young northerner bastard named Jon Snow.... and the pieces had quickly fallen into place after that.


"I am quite hurt, Prince Oberyn that you only think of us as mere acquaintances. I thought we had moved past that," Jon said with an amused smile on his face, "And besides we are now fellow Westerosi in a foreign land... so shouldn't we sit around the fire, share some stories and eat food with each—"


"I would have been delighted to do that boy if we had met on the road by a coincidence... but this is not a coincidence is it?" Oberyn looked quite calm on the surface but the tight grip he had on his spear could tell anyone that he was taking Jon a lot more seriously than the last time they met. "Because from here I stand, you two look as if you were waiting for us here... so can you tell me how that came to be?"


"Oh, that... Well, let's just say that the camp, you were part of a few hours ago, was on the opposite side of the one we were part of—"


"Ah! So you were the one behind that stunt back at the camp..." Oberyn's expression suddenly cleared as a lot of his doubts from earlier immediately went away, "It seems that you're putting that little book you stole from me to quite the use..."


"Oh, you have no idea," Jon said with a wide smile on his face, "Speaking of which, you wouldn't happen to have any more of those books would you, because it would really help me a lot," Oberyn's eyebrow wildly twitched at the brazen request, "and don't worry, I will adequately compensate you this time—"


"Ugh! Can you move this along, Father!" Obara abruptly interrupted with an impatient expression while shifting uncomfortably on her horse. She had grown quite tired of this back-and-forth between her father and this arrogant boy, "Are we killing him or are we passing him by? You just need to choose one of them..."


Oberyn had no reply to his daughter's question, as he was contemplating that very same thing all along.


If the boys in front of him were just some runts of nobles from back home, then he wouldn't have hesitated so much about it... but one of them had the potential to have a very mysterious identity, which was leaving him undecided at the moment, as he couldn't be sure that this fellow wouldn't be useful in the future when the shit hit the fan... so he felt that it would be quite a waste to kill him at the moment...


"She's Obara, right? The oldest one among your daughters," Jon suddenly asked Oberyn, while turning towards the woman cosplaying as a man, "It is quite an honour to meet you—"


"How do you know who I am," Obara cut off his greeting as her eyes narrowed and her fingers tightened around the spear at the casual way the man in front of her had recognised her despite her disguise, "I don't think we've met before..."


"Well, all the prince's daughters are quite famous, aren't they?" Jon replied with a shrug, "And I have heard that the eldest daughter is the—Er—most martially inclined one among them all..."


"You wanted to say the ugliest, didn't you?" Obara asked in a menacing tone while barely fighting the impulse to just charge and skewer the wretch in front of her.


He actually was, but Jon would be quite stupid if he admitted that, "No, I wasn't." so he denied it before immediately turning towards Oberyn to get back to his goal, "What say you, Prince Oberyn? Will you care to join me at the fire and share some food... I've got a freshly caught rabbit behind me... so we can eat, talk and get to—"


"Why?" Oberyn scoffed with a sarcastic smile on his face, "So that you can try and poison me for the second time in a day?"


"That is quite the ugly accusation, Prince," Jon replied with a raised eyebrow, "I take the guest rights very seriously, so I would never even think of doing something like that. After all, I am a Northerner... not a Dornishmen who are infamous for their killing of someone under a peace banner—"


"Argh! That does it!" Obara snapped, as the last taunt finally managed to breach her patience and she abruptly pulled the reins on her horse and charged towards Jon like an arrow, her spear raised and ready to stab the annoying scoundrel.


"Obara! No!" Oberyn cried only a moment after he saw his daughter's horse take off, but it was too late... and by then all he could do was hope that she only injure and not kill him...


But what actually happened was so wildly out of his imagination that it left him shocked.


The second that Obara's horse kicked off towards him, Jon was on his feet with his sword in his hand.


But even though he could, with his reaction speed, Jon decided neither to use his sword to kill the horse nor to roll out of the way and dodge. Instead what he did was just simply look into the eyes of the horse with an intense expression.


"Die! You Cunt—Argh!" At the last moment, just before she was about to skewer the unmoving arrogant Northerner in front of her, Obara's horse betrayed her and jerked to an abrupt halt, flinging her off of it, and sending her flying straight into the ground.


"Ugh!!" Everything hurt for the woman, she felt as if she had fallen from a two-story building straight onto a rocky floor. There was a constant ringing in her ear and she couldn't even muster any strength in her arms to get up.


But thankfully, she could feel that nothing had been broken and she also didn't get stabbed with her own spear as he had thrown it away at the last moment... Now, she just needs to gather her bearings and somehow get up before...


"Bind her, Sam," Jon calmly ordered his friend, while coming to stand over the stunned and disoriented Dornishwomen with his sword pointed at her shocked father.


While keeping his eyes on Oberyn, Jon warmly patted the head of Obara's horse in praise before sending it to join their own horses behind him.


"Y-Yes!" Sam replied after a few seconds and ran over with a rope in his hands to tie the slowly coming about Dornishwoman.


The second he came out of his shock, Oberyn's first impulse was to immediately attack the Northerner to save his daughter... but he managed to stop himself at the last moment as he didn't want to go the same way as his daughter.


He didn't know how the boy managed to stop a war horse, that had been specifically trained not to hesitate even at the sign of a sword... but he did not want to take any risk so he immediately jumped off of his own horse.


"You know this would make it the second time that I have taken a daughter of yours hostage," Jon commented idly while moving away from Obara after Sam had finished binding her, "You should really teach them a little more patience..."


"Don't worry, boy. I intend to do the very same thing when we get home," Oberyn replied nonchalantly while ever so slowly circling around and making the Northerner move away from Obara.


"But you really don't need to be this tense, you know, as I am not going to hold your daughter's life against you... because from the very beginning, all I have been asking from you was for us to have a talk..."


"Well, then... Talk!"


"Uh-Uh, not like that," Jon said while shaking his head, "First you need to put down your spear and take a seat—"


"You want me to willingly give up my own weapon in a situation such as this?" he asked incredulously while looking at Jon as if he were a fool, "Are you out of your mind?"


"Well, we won't be able to have a constructive talk if you have your weapon with you... because then your mind will constantly be on the many different ways that you can kill me and save your daughter... which would make it all fruitless..."


While speaking, Jon had slowly begun moving his feet towards his luggage that was placed beside his rock seat.


He knew that it would be very messy if both of them got into a melee fight, and it would be hard for them to stop without one of them dying or getting seriously injured, and Jon didn't desire that... so he wanted to switch to his primary weapon so that he could conclude the fight without any bloodshed.


"Well we can also have a constructive talk if you're the one to give up your weapon," Oberyn replied snarkily while keeping his complete focus on the Northerner. He had already scouted Sam and concluded that even though the boy had improved compared to before, he would still be completely inconsequential in a life-and-death fight with him.


Jon sighed and shook his head as he knew that they wouldn't get anywhere like this so he abruptly bent down to pull out his bow.


The instant Oberyn saw Jon go for his bow, he took his chance and lunged at him with his spear.


But what he didn't expect was the speed at which the Northern bastard moved.


Jon had discarded the sword in his hand, picked up his bow, primed an arrow on it and then shot it towards Oberyn, all before he could take more than a few steps.


Thankfully, Oberyn instinctively flinched at the last moment and the arrow missed his face by a hair's breadth, leaving his back filled with cold sweats.


But even with the close shave with death, Oberyn didn't miss the chance he got and immediately stabbed his spear towards the half-kneeling boy, but alas once again the dastard Northerner demonstrated his speed and nimbleness as he dodged and rolled away at the last moment leaving Oberyn cursing as his spear got stuck in the ground.


"You missed, boy," Oberyn grunted while calmly pulling out his spear from the ground, "And now I am close enough to you, that you wouldn't be able to take another shot... so why don't you tell the Tarly boy to let Obara go before I am forced to gut you..."


"You know, I would have seriously considered your proposal if I had missed my shot... but did I really miss it?" Jon asked with a meaningful smile on his face.


"What do you mean—" Oberyn's words abruptly cut off and his eyes widened as he felt a sharp sting at his cheek.


He hurriedly raised his hand to touch his face and sure enough, his worst fear was realised when he saw a thin line of blood on his hand courtesy of a scratch on his cheek.


"Not to brag, but you see, I haven't missed my shot since I was ten, so you should be really thankful that I wasn't shooting to kill you..."


"What have you done—" Oberyn suddenly faltered amidst his rage as his surroundings suddenly shook as if there was an earthquake and his eyes began to grow blurry.


"Oh! Has it started already... That was quite fast," Jon commented in a mildly surprised tone as if commenting on the weather, "I guess, the wound being so close to your head helped the poison spread faster... what a novel thing to learn—Oh!" Jon abruptly stopped his narration and jumped back to dodge the spear.


"I'll Kill You!!" Oberyn growled in anger as he lunged at the bastard disregarding everything else.


Even poisoned, his spear was accurate and fast as a viper's bite but Jon wasn't even playing the same game anymore as he kept jumping backwards not allowing Oberyn to pull him into a fight with his myriad jabs.


"You know, I would have loved to have a proper bout with you any other day... but it would be too unfair considering your situation at the moment... so why don't you give it a rest—"


"Argh! Fuck You!!" Oberyn grunted out furiously but no matter how hard he tried he couldn't even touch his enemy.


And to make matters worse, all this exertion had only made his blood pump faster making the poison spread through his body even more quickly.... and sure enough not even a few seconds later, he fell to his knees and began breathing heavily as if he was an old man.


Honestly, Oberyn felt less scared for his life and more humiliated at the fact that he had been almost poisoned twice by a boy third his age. He didn't think he would be able to live this down as a Dornishman...


"Don't worry, Prince... you and your daughter will be completely safe with me... so you can sleep soundly..." Oberyn heard Jon's fading voice as he fell on his face, "... and then when you wake up... maybe we can have our talk..."


And that was the last thing the Prince of Dorne heard before he lost consciousness.


...


The stretch of sea between the Free City of Tyrosh and the islands of Stepstones was considered the most dangerous place in the world for merchant ships.


Everyone knew that and it was something of common knowledge... But there were always exceptions in this world.


While some Merchants saw danger and loss of life in this place... other, more greedy, more ambitious Merchants only saw the massive untapped potential of this place and the piles of gold that they could make from here.


And it was somewhat of a cardinal rule that if there's big money to be made, then there would be merchants somewhere who will somehow find a way through... regardless of the risks.


Now, the method the merchants take to pass through completely depends on the kind of merchant they are...


If they are small-time merchants, the kind who aren't afraid of adventures, then they could take the path of maximum risk and maximum profits...


Where they completely rely on their luck to dodge the pirate ships. They hope and pray that their gods will help them and that the pirates will be on vacation or that they will all be drunk and asleep for the few hours that they need to pass the Stepstones.


And funnily enough, some of these pirates do get lucky and complete their voyages safe and sound. But most of them, who aren't so lucky... well, they get caught, their merchandise gets stolen, their women get taken, and then they themselves become someone's slaves for life... unless, of course, if they know someone who can buy them out for a hefty sum.


But on the other side of this are the big-time Merchants, the wealthy ones who have been in this game for a long time, who are too old and experienced to fall for short-term gains. These merchants like to go for the least amount of risk that they can take by hiring the toughest protectors that they can find in this part of the sea— The Braavosi Warships.


And while their profits may decrease substantially because of this... at least they can sleep soundly knowing that they have reduced the uncertainty factor from this situation as much as they could and that they could have small but stable profits for a long time... which is the most important thing for these big merchants.


The pirates too usually leave these kinds of big fleets alone as they also like to attack the easier, less protected smaller fleets where they could make quick profits... as it would be too much of a hassle for them to try and fight off a dozen Braavosi Warships at the same time.


After all, even if they somehow managed to win, they would still incur too many losses for it to be worth it.


But that doesn't mean that the pirates were afraid of these warships... Oh, no, no, no, thinking these pirates as scared cowards would be a wrong assumption.


Because the second these pirates felt that the risks justified the rewards, they would immediately launch their attack on the target, no matter who the protector was. And anyone who thought otherwise or underestimated them, thinking that the pirates would just run if they flew a Braavosi flag or that they would be fine if they just hired one or two warships... were either already sunk under the sea, or would soon reach there.


And at this very moment, someone was paying the price for making that very same mistake...


During their Biannual trip to protect the fleet of Merchant ships across this treacherous but immensely profitable stretch, the Master in Braavos decided to reduce their protection from twelve warships to just half of them.


Because due to some unforeseen circumstances (Norther Wolf Shipping,), the number of merchants patronising them had decreased by a third so they decided to similarly reduce their numbers so that they could decrease the cost of manning the warships and keep their profits the same... but this turned out to be a very fatal mistake.


Because, while fighting off twelve warships for a few dozen Merchant ships could be considered a massive loss... the same couldn't be said when there are only six warships, as then... then the risk decreases exponentially.


The merchants and their protectors had grown too complacent due to long years of safe and easy trips where the pirates let them go unharassed... they began to think that the pirates just wouldn't dare to attack ships protected by Braavos, even if the protection was a bit inadequate.


But they forgot that the pirates were an unpredictable bunch and that they could do anything and attack anyone once their greed overwhelmed them.. and at this very moment the Braavosi Warships were being reminded of that fact.


Six Braavosi Warships were surrounding big bulky merchant ships in their middle while trying to fend off the relentless attacks from a Pirate fleet commanded by one of the three Pirate Kings, The Ravager.


The fleet was on their way back after a fruitful trip to the other free cities of the Essos, their decks were filled with crates upon crates of high-value goods, and their chest were filled with coins, and they had almost begun counting their profits in their head... when they had been suddenly set upon by these pirate a few hours away from the Stepstones.


"Argh!!"


"Kill Them!!"


"Shoot the arrows!!"


"Kill the Pirates!!!"


"Raise your shields higher! YOU CUNTS!!!"


And the naval attack that the warships were under wasn't a haphazard one that you would expect from Pirates, no, the battle that was happening here was a surprisingly intricate one.


Each of the six warships had been first separated from each other and then three pirate ships had attached themselves to each of them, constantly harassing them, peppering them with arrows, and overwhelming them with the sheer numbers of pirates coming abroad.

And if the Braavosi warships tried to use their prized scorpions to target the pirate's ships, then these wretches would immediately scatter away and dodge the massive bolts using the higher mobility of their lighter ships.

But even if a scorpion managed to get a lucky shot and hit one of the Pirate ships, they would just calmly call a retreat before the warships could sink them, and almost immediately another pirate ship from the reserve would take its place and the attack would start anew.

And in this way, the smaller, older, shoddier pirate ships with paper-thin, defences were slowly harassing, and whittling down the mighty warships of Braavos.

And the one behind this attack, the commander of this pirate fleet, the Ravager King, was watching the battle while sitting on his wooden throne on the deck of his galleon and calmly sipping expensive wine safe behind the reserve pirate ships.


///

 

[ATP]

Well,Obara and Oberyn are in good hands now,and Braavoos discovered why sending less warships is bad idea.
More money for Jon.

 

[LazyWizard]

Behind the ten reserve ships of the pirate fleet stood a massive Galleon. And unlike the other pirate's ships which were all different varieties of thin sleek galleys, the Galleon was bigger, fancier and much better equipped, because, after all, it was the Ravager's personal ship, as such, it had to have the corresponding dignity.


In fact, if it wanted, then this ship could even go toe to toe with two Braavosi warships on its own.


Not that the pirate king Ravager would ever take such risks with his own life.


Standing on the deck of this ship, were all the cruelest, strongest, smartest and most useful pirates in this fleet. Along with their Master Ravager, the only person sitting on the deck, they were silently keeping watch on the battle from afar.


"How much longer now?" calmly asked the Ravager in a low gravelly voice while signalling his aide, a 13-year-old young lad to refill his wine, "You can throw a few more ships at them if this battle can end faster..." he continued callously as if the lives of the pirates weren't worth waiting a few minutes, "...Things could become complicated the longer the battle goes on."


"Don't worry, Master," came the smooth answer from the most well-dressed man on the deck, "We don't to use more pirates... the battle should be over soon enough." The advisor replied while bowing his head.


"Fine, then." The Pirate King nodded waving his hand indifferently and the advisor turned back to command the battle.


The advisor placed the far-eye back on his eye and peeked closely at the battle in the distance. He was the one who actually controlled the whole attack from his position on this ship.


He was the one who decided when it was time for which ship to retreat and for which ship to take its place.


And he was doing all that using just a few different coloured flags and a few capable subordinates.


The signals he used were so complicated that they completely went above almost every pirate's head, except for the ones he had specially trained to follow his orders.


If someone asked any pirate in this fleet what was the secret behind Ravager's rise to become a Pirate King of Essos in just a decade, then most of them would attribute it to his cruelty, his ambition, his connections, or maybe even the huge number of ships under his command.


But if they asked this question to Ravager himself, then he would unhesitatingly point towards this scholar-like man commanding the battle and looking absurdly out of place in this gathering of fierce pirates.


Ravager was quite grateful for the day when he managed to snag this man from right under the nose of one of Volantis' most prominent Noble families.


Because, if it were not for his man, then Ravager wouldn't have so many ships under his command, if it were not for this man then he wouldn't have a record of winning 9 out of every ten battles his fleet was in, and if it wasn't for this man's ability command a naval battle, then Ravager didn't think that he could have ever become a Pirate King.


And Ravager always made sure that this treasure of a man would never be able to leave his side... 'even if he wanted to,' he thought as his eyes involuntarily went towards his young aide who immediately shivered at his gaze. This young one hadn't left his side since before he was a toddler, as he was the key to keeping this treasure of a man locked under him.


'But it's still not enough...' he thought as his eyes turned back to the battle in the distance. He didn't want to be just a pirate king, he wanted to be the Pirate King.


He didn't want his name to be taken along the likes of Salladhar Saan and Crow's eye, he wanted to be above them, he wanted to crush them underneath him, he wanted to be the only Emperor of the Sea, of all Seas.


He wanted the name Ravager to resound across all the continents, to strike fear in his enemies... from the Nobles of Westeros to the Sealords of Braavos, from the Magister of Pentos to the Great Masters of Slaver's Bay.


The mere mention of his name should be enough for them to piss their pants and offer him all their riches and their wives to him...


And now he had finally learned a valuable piece of information from his worthless, that could give him a chance to achieve this ambition of his. And he wouldn't let go of that chance... at any cost.


Ravager thought while involuntarily making a tight fist with his left hand before turning to the side, "Rulk! What happened to that task I asked you to do?"


A huge black man with his upper body naked and full of scars bowed from behind him and replied, "I sent three of my best men, Master. They should have reached the coast of Braavos by now and should soon send us the location of that Westerosi..."


"Good, that is good," Ravager nodded with a cruel smile on his face, "We not only need to thank that shipping company for this gift of Braavosi merchants but... also show him what happens when someone crosses one of us... Isn't that right, little Jack," he towards his son with clear disdain in his eyes.


"Y-Yes," Even though Jack was as large as his father, he turned into a nervous cat in front of his father, "But didn't the Advisor say that it would be hard to catch them at sea and that we should negotiate with them and buy from them their method of seafaring—"


"Che! He may be a very smart man but... sometimes he makes things too complicated." Ravager snorted with an uncaring look on his face, "I am Pirate King, boy. When I want something, I just simply... take it." He said confidently before turning back to his son with a look of disgust, "Not that a halfwit like you, who was made a fool of by that Westerosi not once but twice, would understand something like this..."


"Haha," The nearby pirates all burst out laughing at that.


Jack gritted his teeth at the humiliation as the surrounding pirates openly laughed at him, uncaring that he was their captain's son, "B-But it wasn't my fault father, it was that cunning Northern Shipping—"


"Don't give me excuses, boy. You whore of a mother gave me enough of them before I killed her," he turned to Jack with a menacing look on his face, "And what have I told you about calling me your father before you have earned the right to it, boy?!"


"T-To not do it."


"So what am I, then?"


"M-Master."


"Good, at least you can learn..."


"B-But, Master," Jack said as he hurriedly tried to change the subject, "Do you think it wise to openly provoke Braavos like this," he asked while gesturing towards the battle in the distance, "Wouldn't they just send their full might after us because of this..."


"And, so what if they did?" Ravager scoffed while comfortably leaning back in his chair, "Where are they going to attack? We're pirates, Boy. I have no home that they can ravage, I have no castle that they can loot, and I have no people that they can capture. The sky is my roof and the sea is my floor... If they attack me in Stepstones, I'll go to Slaver's Bay. And if they still follow me there, I'll just go and reave the shore of Westeros... Their mighty strength has no meaning if they can't attack me..." he scoffed.


"Besides it's their own fault for dangling this ripe fruit in front of me... they can't really expect a shark to spare its prey now, can they?" Ravager finished with a fierce smile and Jack reluctantly nodded his head.


"It seems they are giving up, Captain," The first mate announced while pointing towards the Naval battle in the distance that was finally reaching its conclusion.


None of the Braavosi warships had actually started sinking yet but they had taken enough of a beating to know that it was only a matter of time... So the Captain in charge of the Braavosi fleet decided to cut their losses and run away with all his ships while abandoning all the bulky merchant ships as bait because, after all, their lives were worth much more than the goods and people on those merchant ships.


"Signal them not to pursue the warships anymore and to surround the merchant ships," The Ravager ordered and the Advisor immediately nodded his head before making his subordinate wave a couple of green and blue colours from left and right.


"That took long enough..." Ravager grunted, standing up from his throne before ordering the pirates around him, "Board the ships. Kill every man who resists and shackle everyone who surrenders. If there are women on board then the captains get their first pick and they can use them for three days before they are sold but remember... if anyone wastes a valuable young virgin product once again, I'll string their naked bodies on ships without caring about who they are." he ordered and the pirates around him hurriedly nodded their heads


He then turned to Advisor, "Count all the loot and make sure that no one steals anything, and if you find a thief, just hang them." The advisor nodded as the Pirate King left towards his cabin to rest after giving his last order.


...


The camp of the Company of Rose which had been mostly empty for the past few days was bustling once again, as the victorious soldiers began ambling in.


Every single returning warrior had a wide smile on his face, and even the injured ones were laughing and joking.


The atmosphere didn't feel at all as if the sellswords were coming back after a battle, instead, it felt as if they had just gone for a peaceful walk and were now coming back after a picnic.


And why wouldn't they be happy... after all, a head-on battle between three big sellswords companies, consisting of more than four thousand warriors had occurred, and to think that their side had emerged victorious without taking any more than a handful of casualties and injuries... it was almost magical.


"Oi! Tark! Karl!" A guard loudly called his friends while waving his hands, "Come here, You fuckers!!"


"Ah! Darren, my friend, it's so good to see you again—"


"What the fuck are you talking about, you idiot! We saw each other just two days ago."


"Did we? Ah! I thought more than a week had passed since we left the camp... Aren't I right, Tarl?"


"Yes. I mean, we marched for our destination, we reached our destination, we fought the battle, we killed our enemies, and then marched back to our camp... It's hard to believe that it all happened in a matter of days... it honestly still feels like a dream.


"Was the battle really that easy?" The guard knew that the battle was a successful one from the smiles on their faces but he couldn't understand why they were exaggerating it so much...


"Easy? Easy?! It was fucking massacre, my friend, we absolutely slaughtered them... our usual training is more exhausting than this battle..."


"Really?"


"He's not lying Darren. The Company of Cats actually felt like just a gathering of wild cats... Their food storage was on fire, their horses were running away, and all of them were stumbling around like headless chickens... I don't think they even noticed us when until we actually hit their camps..."


"And even then they could barely put up any fight... They didn't mount any defence, they had no sembling of any formation, half of them had no weapon or armour on them, and even the ones who had them... the swings of their swords felt so weak, it was as if they had never held a sword before that day..."


"Yes, In fact, quite a few of them were just holding onto their stomach and kneeling on the ground, waiting for their deaths..." the man explained excitedly while waving his hands, "I wonder if they had eaten something bad before the battle..."


"You're right. I even saw one of them with his pants halfway down, shitting on the side..."


"Yes, Yes, I saw one too... but I felt so bad about him that I left him alone..."


"I didn't. I killed quite a few of those squatters. In fact, I was specifically searching for those shitting idiots because they were so easy to kill, HaHa!!"


"Ugh! I always knew that you were an evil bastard, Tarl... but to think you would kill a man going about his business... that is just wrong."


"Who cares! Those bastards from the Company of Cats were always so arrogant whenever we met them in the cities and they always looked at us as if we were just roadside beggars... this will show those cunts their place..."


"Argh! Now I wish that I hadn't been left behind to guard this empty camp..." The guard said enviously. "You all must have gotten plenty of loot too, right..."


"That... we didn't..."


"You didn't? Why?"


"Well... it seems that the commander had an agreement with the Windblown, that all the loot from the battle would go to them... so we had to leave the camp of Cats immediately after the battle was over..."


"What?! That's not fair!"


"Oh! don't worry, we are all going to be rewarded and get a big prize when we start our next contract with that young Northerner called Jon... The commander made a big speech about it and everything..."


"Bah! Who cares about that far-away thing... Hehe, let me tell you a secret, I sneakily stole a lot of gold from the enemy bodies before leaving..."


While the sellswords all around the camp were bragging and having a lively discussion about the recent fight, Jon was having his own conversation with Bran, the commander's son, who had been the one to lead all of these soldiers back to the camp.


"... And about three to four hundred of them scattered and managed to escape but the rest of them were annihilated, and their captain was also slain, so I don't think the Cats will be a sellswords company after today," Bran explained with a satisfied expression on his face, "and even if they regrouped, they wouldn't dare to show their faces in the Disputed Lands for a long long time..."


"Hmm..." Jon simply nodded his head while listening to Bran's report even though he already knew about most of these things because of his friends in the sky, "By the way, where's Gared? I didn't see him come with you..."


"Oh! Father and the commander of the Windblown, the Tattered Prince, went straight to the city of Myr. He wanted to meet with the nobles of the city as soon as he could because they couldn't be sure when Tyrosh would hire other sellswords company to take back their base and their lost land... so they wanted to take care of their rewards and complete their contract before any unfortunate complications arise..."


"That's good then," Jon nodded his head before he took out a few pieces of parchments and a piece of charcoal from his vest, "Here take these,"


"Huh? What's this for?"


"You know how to read and write, right?"


"Y-Yes." It was necessary as the son of the commander for him to know his numbers and how to read a letter, so he learned all that in his childhood.


"Perfect," Jon said with a satisfied expression on his face before waving his hands at the sellswords all around the camp, "I want you to gather all sellswords warriors in our company and do a simple survey on them... I want you to write their names, their measurements, and their preferred choice of weapons. Can you do that?"


"I can.... but, Why are you—Wait! Don't tell me, you're really going to—"


"I am," Jon simply nodded his head with a smile on his face, "So I need that information soon... and the ones whose names are on the top would get their gifts much sooner so If I were you I'd write Bran at the top..." He winked before patting his shoulder, "So get on with it, my friend." Jon said as he left the ecstatic boy behind him and began moving in the direction of the biggest tent in the middle.


"Did he say anything? Or try to leave?" Jon asked the two guards stationed a few meters away from the entrance keeping watch on the guest inside the Tent.


"No," one of the guards answered with a shrug, "Other than the cook delivering food, no one has gone in or out of this tent."


"Good." Jon nodded before removing the flap and entering the tent.\


But the next moment he froze and a weird look appeared on his face as Jon saw a completely different scene than the one he had been expecting.


Instead of an angry prisoner refusing to eat food, he found the Dornish prince calmly sitting on the table in the middle and heartily enjoying the meat and soup that had been prepared for him.


"I see that you've made yourself comfortable," Jon commented with an amused look on his face as he came to a stop in front of the table.


"Hmm..." Oberyn just hummed in reply without looking up as if he was more interested in the delicious rabbit meat in front of him than Jon.


"You're eating quite well for a man who was almost poisoned twice," Jon said after a while when it seemed like Oberyn wouldn't be the one initiating the conversation. It had been quite the sore spot for the man, so Jon was hoping for it to be a good way to begin their talk.


"For your information," Oberyn didn't quite grit his teeth but from the looks of it he was quite close to it, "I wasn't actually poisoned by your trick back in the camp, and the second time was nothing more than a fluke, so don't expect me to fall for that again..." he warned with his signature viper smile before he abruptly leaned back and wiped his hands with a cloth before picking up the cup of ale, "And since I easily can tell that this food isn't poisoned, I figured that it would be better for me eat it to retain my strength for... when I want to escape from this place..."


"You aren't really my prisoner, you know," Jon said while taking a seat in front of the table as Oberyn was finally done with his food, "You can leave anytime you want. After all, I wouldn't be so stupid as to capture a Noble of Westeros... especially one as beloved as you..."


"You've taken my weapon, you've placed guards outside this shabby tent, and you've placed my daughter away from me so that I don't... misbehave." Oberyn drawled in a thick Dornish accent, "I don't know what a prisoner means in that frozen wasteland of yours but from what I see this place is the exact definition of what a prison is..."


"You know who I am?" Jon asked with a raised eyebrow and for the time since Oberyn had met the boy, he saw surprise in his eyes.


"You thought I wouldn't investigate the boys who had robbed me in the centre of the Citadel." Oberyn said with a sarcastic smile on his face, "You're quite bold for a bastard, Jon Snow, aren't you?"


"Bastards need to be bold to survive in this world, don't we?" Jon replied after silently scrutinising Oberyn for a while, "Anyhow, you knowing my identity makes it much easier since you know about my father's honour and—"


"Tell me, then. What would your honourable father think when he finds out that you've forcefully seized a prince of Dorne and made him your prisoner? Which one could even go as far as to say is enough cause for war..."


"You have no shackles on your hands, you are eating the best food that this company can offer, you are staying in the Commander's own tent, and the only reason you don't have your weapon with you is so that you don't immediately try to fight your way out of this camp full of sellswords and injure yourself, and your daughter is already out and about..." Jon replied in a single breath, "So from where I am standing, I am giving you the best treatment I can give to a noble guest in the middle of nowhere. So no, I don't think my father would be too unhappy with me."


Oberyn was silent for a while before abruptly asking, "Where is Obara? Tell me where my daughter is, and maybe I won't try to kill you the next time I have a weapon in my hands."


"Well, when she woke up... her approach was as violent as you would expect from a daughter of yours, so I had to subdue and bind her. But even then she wouldn't stop trying to escape even at the cost of causing herself harm, so seeing that my assurance of not wanting to hurt either of you was not working, I had to take a more forceful approach..."


"What did you do?" Oberyn asked in a dangerously low tone.


"I just told her that if she can beat my young friend Sam twenty times in a training bout, then I would let the both of you leave unharmed and she..." Jon said with a small smirk on his face, "jumped on my offer quite happily."


'Ah that stupid girl,' Oberyn thought while shaking his head as most of his tension left his shoulders, "Aren't you worried that my daughter will kill the little Tarly?" he asked curiously after a few seconds.


"They are both fighting with blunted weapons in the middle of an open training ground, so no." Jon shook his head with a shrug, "Besides, Sam is a resilient boy and learns very quickly. In fact, after three quick losses, he even managed to clinch a lucky victory... so I am not too worried about him."


Oberyn was silent for a while before he nodded and smirked, "This is the commander's tent? Really? How poor is this company?"


"Don't worry, it won't be poor for long, now that it has come under me," Jon replied with absolute confidence, "But we're getting off-topic here, so let us get back to the reason I went to all this effort to talk to you."


"Very well, tell me, boy. What did you want to talk about?"


"I want to talk to you about my plan... to kill the person you hate the most in this world."


///

if you want to read a few chapters ahead you can become my patron at: pa*reon.c*m/llazywizard

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thanks for the chapter. Great story

 

[ATP]

Poor Sam.But,after that,he would face his father with smile and say "bring it on,i arleady go through hell"
Jokes aside,why Jon want to kill Tywin? he is not his,or North ,enemy.

P.S Poor Pirate King.He could become best in the world,but decide to attack Jon.And Jon could always find him for Braavos fleet.

 

[LazyWizard]

"...to kill the person you hate the most in the world,"

The effects of Jon's words were almost immediate as Oberyn's eyes widened in red-hot anger at the mere mention of his most hated enemy and for a moment it almost seemed as if he was going to lunge at Jon and get into melee right there and then.

But at the last moment, he closed his eyes, took a deep breath and somehow managed to calm himself.

When he next opened his eyes he was calm once again and was looking at Jon with a deep scrutinising gaze.

He picked up the cup of ale on the table in between and took a big gulp from it before slamming it down and replying to Jon in a dark voice, "If this was your idea of a joke, then it was not very funny, Snow."

"But that was not a joke, my prince." Jon replied in a serious tone unbothered by the stormy anger in Oberyn's eyes, "I fully intend to follow through with what I just said and rid this world of Mountain and his band of filth."

Oberyn's grip on the cup tightened a bit more, almost crushing it, "And pray tell, why do you want to kill them? What did they do to you?"

"No particular reason," Jon shrugged without a change in his expression, "I just think that they are a scrouge on the face of Westeros and that they shouldn't be allowed to breathe the same air as us..."

"What kind of stupid reason is—" Oberyn's indignant reply abruptly halted as he realised just who he was talking to making his eyes suddenly widen in comprehension, "Oh..."

"What? What happened?" Jon asked with a confused tilt of his head as he was quite bewildered at seeing the sudden epiphany on the Viper's face.

"No, Nothing," Oberyn replied as a mysterious smile suddenly replaced all the previously intense emotions on his face.

All this time Oberyn had been thinking that 'the secret' he had inadvertently stumbled upon in the past was a very big one and that very few people in Westeros knew about it.

He had expected that the frozen-hearted lord of the North wouldn't have even bothered to tell his 'bastard' about it... but it seems he had been wrong about it, and this bastard seems to have some knowledge of his parentage.

It probably means that his fantasy of using this information to create a hidden weapon against the North and the Stark family was going to be a bust... because, after all, if what he suspected was true then the boy in front of him already knew that he was related to the almost extinct old royal family.

'But does he have the intention to use his bloodline to strive for the throne or does he want to live the rest of his life just as a 'bastard'...' Oberyn mused because the answer to this question would decide whether he was an enemy, a friend, or just another pawn that his brother could use (his brother who still ignorant about the big secret that Oberyn had unearthed because of his good friend Willas's mundane letter.)

"So, what do you think?" Jon finally asked after a while when he saw that Oberyn was just sitting there lost in his thoughts, "Are you going to join me on this crusade or not..."

"Answer me this first..." Oberyn asked suddenly while looking up with an intense expression on his face, "Are you doing this of your own volition or is Lord Stark behind this..."

"No, I already told you it's all my wish and my father has nothing to do with this. In fact, he doesn't even know that I have such plans," Jon replied shaking his head, "You're one of the first people I've told about this. This whole thing is going to be planned and executed by me using the funds I've earned from my shipping company so there will be no connection between this and the North..."

"You know, I've heard about that shipping company of yours. The Northern Wolf Shipping, right? You have made quite a name in Braavos because of that... But what you need to understand, boy. Is that no matter how much money you've earned from it, or how many ships and sailors you have under you... You just can't win against the Lannister's might and their influence. The moment you step a single foot in Westerlands and anyone even catches a whiff of your intentions, you are going to have a whole army after you and no one's going to be able to help you...not even your father."

"You are of course, completely right about all of those things," Jon said nodding his head in agreement, "But then again all of those things only apply if they ever find out about us..."

"You think that you are going to be able to get into the heart of Westerlands along with me and kill or capture the Mountain and his band, and then safely leave the kingdom without the Lannisters knowing about it," The sheer scepticism on the Dornish's princes spoke volume about what he thought of Jon's idea. "I don't know if you know about it but let me enlighten you to the fact that there is hardly any direct trade between Dorne and Westerlands so every single person coming in from my land with a Dornish look is looked at with intense scrutiny, so it would only be a matter before someone manages to recognise me in one port or the other... And once I am caught... well, I don't need to tell you the rest, do I?"

"We are not going to use any of the ports or travel through any big city at all, so you don't need to worry about any of that. Besides getting you into the Westerlands, finding where the Mountain and his men are, taking care of them as well as getting out of that place... It all comes under my purview. So you just need to... trust me."

"Haha!!" Oberyn immediately burst into laughter at that, "Trust you?! Boy! I hardly know you. And after meeting you just twice you suddenly want me to place my life in your hands?"

"Well, that is on you, because whether you agree with me or not, I am going to do it. I just wanted to give you a chance to join me because I didn't want you to suddenly hear about it in the future and then come after me in rage because I somehow stole your chance to get revenge..."

'That sounds like something I would do...' Oberyn mused with a raised eyebrow before he fell into a contemplative silence while seriously considering Jon's offer for the first time.

On one hand, the mere thought of the Mountain and his Men continuing to live and thrive had always sent his blood boiling. He couldn't even remember the number of times his brother had to stop him from going on a foolhardy mission to the Westerlands to quench his revenge. He had only stopped later when his brother offered him an alternative that, while slow, still was one that was far more likely to be successful...

But now that a much faster method had appeared in front of him, it was almost painful for him to resist the temptation to immediately jump on the offer... even if the one offering was the 'bastard' of a person he had always considered to be the usurper's dog until of course he found the big secret the loyal dog was hiding from his 'best friend'.

But that was the crutch, wasn't it?

The boy in front of him was from the enemy faction and even if he had a thin familial connection to his dead niece and nephew, it was still too vague for him to place his complete trust in him and for him to believe that he just wanted to take vengeance and did not have any other ulterior motive...

Oberyn thought for a long long time before he finally looked up at Jon who was patiently waiting for him and replied, "My answer is..."

...

Gill was bored...

He was alone in a foreign land sitting inside an absurdly expensive shop that was empty and had no merchandise to sell at the moment.

His only job at the moment was to sit on a chair behind the counter and answer the same query about when their shipping company was going to go on their next excursion.

During the first few days after Merchant Sam and the rest had left for the North, the shop had been crammed with Merchants from all over Braavos for the whole day, and Gill hadn't even been able to catch a break.

But now, after weeks of hearing the same answer, the visits from the various merchants or their retainers had become a lot less frequent, but it didn't mean that they had given up...

Oh, no, no, it just meant that most of them wizened up and decided to go the smart way and use the strongest hidden weapon in a Merchant's arsenal... bribery.

They came up with all kinds of ways to give him different kinds of under-the-table incentives so that he would be inclined to inform them earliest when they decided on their next excursion...

Gill, being a commoner from the North, was obviously quite scared at first to accept money for doing something that was essentially his Job. But then, Jon's letter arrived answering his hesitant question with a nonchalant approval saying that 'it' was his just reward for staying behind alone in Braavos while the rest got to go home, so he could take the money without any hesitation.

But it wasn't like Gill had any family back home who was waiting for him so he didn't really feel like he was sacrificing much by staying back here in Braavos so he still didn't feel too comfortable taking the money.

Regardless, after a few persuasions, Gill had given in and begun accepting the little 'bribes' that the Merchants liked to give... but even after accepting it he didn't spend a single copper from it instead he had just decided to keep it all safe inside a secure pouch.

He had decided after some thought that when all of his friends came back, he was going to use all of this money to throw them a big feast at the nearby tavern...

'That should put a smile on their grim faces...' He thought with a satisfied smile on his face.

He knew that some people would call him naive and stupid for this decision but Gill didn't care as he had never been one to put much worth in gold and didn't mind not saving the money for himself.

Besides, before he left, Merchant Sam had given him more than enough funds to live here comfortably so it wasn't like he needed the money anyway.

Especially since with time, the amount had become big enough to the point of making him uncomfortable.

Even though each merchant only gave him a small amount, when added together it became quite a sum, and that sum had almost doubled following the week when the disastrous news spread of what had happened with the Merchant fleet that Braavosi warships were protecting during their recent bi-yearly excursion.

A lot of people began to get disillusioned by the Braavosi warship's capability after that and they began to think that if they could get killed even under the warship's protection then wasn't it much better for them to contract the Northern Wolf Company that not only had good track but were also a lot cheaper and their trips were frequent too... before they took their break.

So safe to say that, Gill couldn't have even imagined a few years ago that he could in the future one day be able to sit on such a sum of gold under him...

A few years ago, he was just an orphan runt in the only orphanage in White Harbour. An orphan who wandered the streets of White Harbour day and night in search of work.

He had no prospect for the future and the most he could have achieved with his life was to become a labourer at the Port and live a life of hand-to-mouth while sleeping hungry on days when there was no work.

But then it all changed on the day that that bulky sailor came into the orphanage with an offer to the Septa in charge. He wanted to take all the orphans who were willing to train them to become sailors in a Shipping company.

The caretaker was obviously a bit sceptical about it all especially when she was told that all the orphans would get a place to sleep and be able to eat good food three times a day until they managed to pass the training.

But all her worries were put to rest when she found out that Lord Manderly was backing this endeavour and that the owner of the company was none other the son of Lord Stark.

But unlike his other friends, Gill hadn't been too enthusiastic about the prospect of becoming a sailor in the beginning...

He knew of course, that it was a privilege in the North to have someone not only give you filling meals every single day but also give you training in a valuable skill. But what could he do when his heart set on something else... when his childhood dream had been to become someone else...

Like every other child in the orphanage in White Harbor, Gill had also grown up hearing a lot of Knightly tales... of their grandeur, their bravery, their adventures and their romances.

Not only the caretaker but even the Manderly Grandaughters during their occasional visits to the Orphanage spun a lot of those wonderous tales filling their heads with fantasies.

Like all the others Gill had also been very fascinated with all of the stories about how brave the knights were and how they travelled the world and how they always honourably managed to save the damsel in distress.

And he wanted that life for himself so much...

But then he grew up and realised that they were just fictional tales and that the reality was a lot different.

Not only were the real knights not as honourable as the tales made them out to be, but in most cases you needed to be a noble first before you could even get the chance to become a knight.

So he could only bury his desires, give up his dream and join the training to become a sailor, no matter his disappointment.

And that turned out to be the best decision in his life.

At first, he had been a bit scared because, after all, there were a lot of scary stories out there of how most sailors die young either because of storms, or pirates or even of starvation.

But then he found out that they would also be trained in the way of swords and he couldn't contain his excitement.

Even when the training got harsh, and the other kids cried and began giving up, Gill never did... because he realised halfway through that this could also be a good alternative as he could become a warrior, travel the world, kill evil pirates, fight in war, and do all the things he had ever wanted...

So in a way, he was already living his dream...

And when Merchant Sam had said that someone needed to remain behind to watch over the shop as well as coordinate the letters as they came between Darrio the Banker, Jon and the Company, he had immediately volunteered himself as he felt that it would be very adventurous.

He had fantasised a lot about all the wonderful things he could do in Braavos during this break, from visiting famous places like the Titan or spectating the nightly duels between water dancers or maybe even paying a visit to the famous courtesans.

But it turns out that he was thinking too simply because none of the things he had imagined felt any fun without any of his friends from the Company to keep him company. Even something as simple as going to a nearby tavern for a drink felt too lonely and depressing without anyone from the North around him.

So he was now counting the remaining days until the crew arrived back from their trip to the North.

And thankfully, according to their last letter, it should take them no more than two to three days to arrive in Essos.

The clanging sound of a large bell broke Gill out of his musings and a single look at the light outside the shop told him that it was time to leave.

He immediately jumped off his chair and started putting things inside for closure, which didn't take him too long. And only a few minutes later he was leaving the shopping street of the port while saying farewells to the nearby local shop owners.

He was on his way towards the big mansion that Jon had bought for the Company to stay in while they were in Braavos and at the moment he was the only one who was staying in it.

On the way, he decided to take the shortcut through a dark alley that he always took... but the moment he stepped his foot inside, he knew that something was wrong...

A massive black man was standing with his back against the alley wall and the second he caught sight of Gill a massive grin appeared on his face as he immediately walked to the middle of the street to bar his way.

His hair standing on end, and Gill immediately thought to run but before he could even turn his head he felt a hard blow to his head making him see darkness around him as he fell to the floor.

"...Quickly... put him in the carriage..."

That was the last thing he heard before Gill lost consciousness.

...

With a loud bang, Sam slammed into the ground with his shield falling sideways and his blunted axe slipping out of his hand.

"I win..." Obara announced while breathing heavily as she held a somewhat shaky stick at Sam's throat as if it were a spear.

"Y-You... did. I... concede," Sam let out in a relieved tone.

If Obara was exhausted then Sam could barely move any of his limbs and was on the verge of fainting. He almost swimming in his sweat and could barely breathe after the repeated bouts he had had with the monster of a fighter that this woman was.

If it weren't for the shield in his hand having an advantage against a spear and the countless hours he had spent training his stamina and his skills under Jon, Sam didn't think that he could have even made this woman sweat given how strong, nimble and skilled she was with the blunted spear.

"Good," Obara replied as she caught her breath just a few minutes later, "Now, why don't you get that Northerner out here anc—"

"Obara!!" shouted a familiar voice making Obara's eyes widen and she immediately swirled her head to see her father standing outside the ring along with the Northerner brat, as if he had been spectating their bout for a while.

"Father!" She immediately beamed as she ran towards him, "Did you see? I won all the bouts. So according to the bet, we are now free to leave," she said with a proud smirk, "Isn't that right, Boy?" she asked while turning to Jon with a fierce expression on her face. It seems she was still miffed about the way she had lost to him the last time.

"Yes. Of course, you are free to leave..." Jon replied with an amused smile on his face, "That is if you want to..."

"What? What kind of nonsense is that? Of course, we want to—"

"Obrara!" Oberyn interrupted her with an exasperated look on his face. It was unknown whether he was embarrassed by his daughter's nativity or if he was apologetic because he was about to ruin all her hard work, "It seems that we are going to be joining this sellswords company for a while..."

That was the compromise both of them came to. Oberyn couldn't easily place his life in the hands of Jon so easily so it was decided that he would stay with the company for a year watching Jon and evaluating whether he had the capabilities to accomplish the task he had been boasting about.

And since Jon already needed that amount of time to put all his affairs in Essos in order he easily.

"W-What the fuck are you talking about, Father?"

"Ahem! You see..."

Jon was having the time of his life watching the Viper try and explain to his daughter why they were they were staying with their enemy even after all her hard work in the bouts when his expression changed abruptly as he looked towards the sky behind him to see an unfamiliar black raven flying towards him from the direction of the sea.

A frown instantly came upon his face when he noticed that the bird was a Warg's animal.

It didn't take him more than a second to realise that this bird must have belonged to one of the new wargs that Robb was going to send from Winterfell along with Merchant Sam.

But what he couldn't understand was why they were suddenly sending him a letter without waiting for him to contact them first at their regular time...

It must have taken the bird quite a while to find him going just by his last known location and he knew that Merchant Sam wouldn't put a warg through something so exhausting unless there was an emergency.

'Could something have gone wrong...' Jon's stomach immediately dropped as an uneasy feeling came over him.

Because of the battle against the Company of the Cats, he had to keep both Tweety and Frost beside him for an extended period of time, which meant that for a while he had lost both his eyes and ears around Braavos.

At that time, he hadn't thought that it would matter too much but now it seems...

The bird reached him and landed on his arms while he was analysing in his mind. Then without wasting a single moment, Jon tore apart the letter and began reading it.

A few moments later his expression turned sour as he crushed the letter in his hand.

His worst fear had been realised as the letter came bearing dark news.

"What happened?" Oberyn asked curiously after the grim look on his face.

"It seems that you'll get to participate in a battle to practice your skills much sooner than we had thought prince," Jon replied with an icy look in his eyes.

///

 

[oscar e Sampedro Lopez]

Thank for the chapter. Great story

 

[ATP]

So,pirates captured and probably murdered Gill.After tortures,of course.Interesting,how Pirate King want to win sea battle with Warg.And,even better,how he want to run after loosing battle.

P.S Going to Westerlands incognito is relatively easy for jon,and as Warg he could find Mountain - but how he plan to kill him?

 

[LazyWizard]

A few days later, the commander arrived back at the Company of Rose with a wide smile on his face as if he had gotten very good news on his venture to the city of Myr.


But on the very next day that he returned a party of seven consisting of Jon, Sam, Oberyn, Obara, Commander Gared and a few others from the company, left the Camp on the fastest steeds that the company could provide towards the nearest port city.


And on that very same day, the Company of Rose also began to dismantle their camps under the supervision of young Bran, their Commander's son. The boy had been tasked by his father to begin transporting all of the company's warriors to a deserted coastline nearby where there would hopefully be ships ready to pick them up.


Since the Company travelled mostly on foot they would be a lot slower than them so Jon hoped that he would have enough time to make a trip to the city of Braavos, and then arrive back at the pickup location with all the ships in his company before the warriors reach there.


...


The first thing Prince Oberyn noticed about the boy during their travel was that unlike other Noble lads his age, Jon seemed to actually know what he was doing... instead of just pretending.


He always had this look of absolute surety on his face when guiding them as if he had never even considered that he could be wrong and while Oberyn knew quite a lot of young people with that unflinching confidence he could see that unlike others Jon's was one born out of conviction and self-assurance rather than arrogance.


Even Oberyn with his years of experience would sometimes get confused with which path to take and would have to stop every now and then to get his bearings. But not Jon... the boy was so sure of his path that it was almost uncanny.


In the beginning, he was quite sceptical when it was revealed that Jon would be the one to lead them and that too through a so-called shortcut.


He had imagined that in his haste to cut the time the boy would take a wrong path and would lead them in a circle or into a dead end and then they would have to backtrack and waste even more time.


But then he began taking them through all kinds of convoluted paths some were well trodden while others were deserted, sometimes they had to take a trek through a small forest while other times they had to go through the middle of a field of tall yellow grasses the height of men...and ever so slowly Oberyn began to feel that maybe he was wrong.


Because never once did the boy hesitate...


He was like a sure-footed Dothraki scout who had roamed the wilderness for decades. Except for the fact... that the boy was barely more than a decade old. So it was quite a conundrum for Oberyn to understand.


Even the commander of the company of Rose whom Oberyn had befriended along the way, was in awe of this and said that Jon was gifted by the Gods.


'Well... his ancestors considered themselves to be the Gods of the sky so maybe they were showing him the path through their 'magic'...' Oberyn mused before snorting at his absurd inner thoughts.


But then they reached the city of Myr in almost half the time according to Gared, and it made him question if there really was magic involved in this...


Oberyn couldn't have imagined how close he was to the truth there...


And that wasn't even the end of surprises.


When they entered Mry, they were greeted by a forty-year-old man, who called Jon Captain and was waiting for them with a carriage right outside the city.


Not only had the man prepared the carriage so that it could directly take them to the port, but he had also purchased tickets for all of them to a ship that was leaving for Pentos that very same day in just a few hours... which was just insane.


How in seven hells did he even know that they were going to reach the city at that time on that day... or did he fucking purchase so many tickets to Pentos every single day while waiting for them. Because no one could be that stupid and rich...


'Well... unless their surname's Lannister...'


And the same fucking thing happened when they reached Pentos, they had a man waiting for them at the port with seven tickets booked for them on the fastest ship that was leaving for Braavos the morning next day... it was just fucking mind-boggling.


After all, they had to know the exact date and the exact time the ships they were sailing on were going to reach that port... which he hadn't thought was possible for sea travel until then...


And how in the seven hells did he even get the message to them...


Anyway, the sheer logistics associated with doing something like this was something Oberyn didn't think possible for a bastard all alone in Essos because you would need to have a lot of money and a lot of ever-alert subordinates situated in all of the big cities who were ready to do your bidding at all times...


And whatever happened to travelling from city to city, staying at shit inns... arduously searching for the right ships while making sure that the captain wasn't a slaver or a pirate in disguise who would loot and sell you the moment their ship left the port.


Travelling the world of Essos was supposed to be hard, adventurous... and not this constant jump from ship to ship... He didn't think that even Essosi noble could have travelled like this...


Thankfully Braavos was their final destination so at least that would be the end of travelling on the sea for a while...


Or at least that was what Oberyn had hoped.


The moment their ship docked in Braavos, Oberyn wasn't much surprised to find that they once again had people waiting for them... and this time there was a whole group of them.


Most of them looked like sailors and almost all of them were Northerners. And Oberyn could somewhat understand that as from what he could gather, Braavos was the main base for Jon's shipping company.


"Good to see you, Uncle Sam," Jon said with an exhausted but warm smile on his face at seeing the familiar face of his Merchant friend after such a long time.


"You too, Captain. It's been too long." Merchant Sam replied while shaking Jon's hand.


"And these two must be Jarl and Nal," Jon said while looking towards the two young boys who stood out a bit amongst the burly rough sailors around them. They were both about 15 years old with brown hair and had common Northerner features with one of them being thin and tall while the other being short and thick.


"Ah! Yes, these are the—Er—helpers that Lord Robb sent us," the Merchant said changing his words midway after a quick glance at the unfamiliar faces behind Jon. "Come on, Lads, come greet him. He is the Jon Snow I was talking about, the owner of our shipping Company and Lord Robb's brother."


"Y-Yes," The boys immediately nodded and quickly forward to awkwardly bow to Jon, "Greetings, Milord."


"Don't be so nervous, and both of you can just call me Captain like the rest of them," Jon said with a small smile on his face and both of them immediately nodded their heads. Jon then turned back to Sam, but with a serious expression this time, "Where is he?"


The Merchant instantly understood what Jon was implying and replied with an equally grim expression, "At the shop. I told him to take some days rest but the boy is too stubborn and says that he was used to the shop during the last few months and that he couldn't stay in the room any longer..." he finished with a wry smile.


"Very well, then. We'll go straight to the shop," Jon nodded his head before he suddenly remembered something and turned towards his companions, "Ah! If you're tired then all of you can head towards the mansion first... It'll be a bit cramped with all of my sailors but it's still a lot more comfortable than an inn."


The only thing Jon had told Oberyn was that he had run afoul of some pirates and that they were going to retaliate using the Company of Rose but other than that, he was in the dark... So the prince was quite curious about who Jon was going to meet and how he was related to this venture, but then again he was also very tired from all the Sea travel...


"Perfect! A bed is exactly what I need," Obara nodded with a hint of relief in her voice, "Let's go, Father," she said making the decision for both of them.


Oberyn smiled wryly at that before nodding towards Jon and then followed Obara towards the two carriages that had already been prepared for them by Merchant Sam.


"Well, then boys. Let's follow them," Gared slammed his palms on the back of his two 'guards' who looked a lot smaller and weaker than him, "I want to go to this mansion and see our boss's as rich as he says he is..." he said with a wink at Jon before he chuckled and moved with his subordinates towards the other carriage.


"I know it from your letters but are you sure that this man has really not been in North all this time," Sam asked in a weird tone while watching the massive man who wouldn't look out of place amidst Umbers or Mormonts.


Jon shook his head in answer to that before turning to Sam, "Sam you should go with them, and make sure that no one... fights anyone." Jon had wanted to say 'kill' instead of fight but Sam had already gone pale at the thought of handling a group of people consisting of a Dornish prince, Essosi sellswords, and Northern sailors, so he didn't want to scare him too much.


"Yes," The Tarly boy nodded with a heavy expression on his face before going towards the carriage with Oberyn in it.


"Let's go, then Uncle Sam." He said turning towards the Merchant who nodded and they immediately began walking towards their shop.


The shop was situated in the prime location near the dock where everyone who landed in Braavos would have to pass through so it wouldn't take them more than ten minutes to reach it.


Along the way, Jon decided to ask in detail about the incident because of which he had to come here in such a hurry.


"...And since I wanted the new wargs, Jarl and Nal, to improve themselves and get their birds used to Braavos, I was having them make regular trips to Braavos every other day just for the sake of it. And that is how I knew that something was wrong immediately when the shop remained empty and closed during midday."


"After searching for him and not finding him even at the mansion, I began to worry that something had happened and immediately alerted Darrio through a letter straight to his table in the Bank..." Merchant Sam said before an impressed look appeared on his face, "And I have to give it to that banker, the man managed to find him that very same night using his resources and I guess the pirates not being the subtle sort had a lot to do with it too..."


"He is related to one of the most powerful men in Braavos so it is somewhat expected of him..." Jon said while nodding in a nonchalant manner. "Anyway, what happened to the pirates, did you manage to catch them alive?" he said with a dark expression on his face


"Sadly, no. The pirates were too good at fighting to capture them alive and they managed to kill five of Darrio's guards before they were eventually felled..."


"It's alright. I already know who pirates belonged to. So that's not much of a problem," Jon said with narrowed eyes, "Tell me about the ships. Are they all ready?"


"Yes, I had them begin repairing and stocking them the moment we docked here. I am also having the lads get used to the new galleys and Warships that Darrio managed to deliver to us, and even though the Warship is giving the boys a bit of trouble, they shouldn't have any problem after a few months of practice..."


"Good, then. Have them practice and be ready by the time we come back so that they can immediately come with us on our next trade trip."


"Huh? So we aren't taking the warships along with us to deal with the pirates..."


"No," Jon answered while shaking his slowly, "On this trip, I only want speed and efficiency and besides this is not going to be the naval battle you're thinking about, so don't worry."


"Oh..." The Merchant said with a confused expression on his face since according to what he knew, they were about to get into a confrontation with a pirate fleet that had a lot of ships... so if not through naval battle, then how else were they supposed to defeat them?


But alas they reached the shop at that exact moment so he could only suppress his curiosity inside him.


"Huh? Looks like those people still don't that the company has arrived back in Braavos..." Jon said after seeing that the shop was empty of customers lining up to ask about the date of their new shipping excursion as he had expected.


"Ah, no. They do know," Merchant Sam said shaking his head with a wry smile, "In fact, most of them already knew from the moment we stepped foot inside the port that we had arrived and they have all been hounding our shop and filling it to the brim for the whole last week, and they would still have been if Gill hadn't sent more than a dozen of our sailors to all of our important merchant customers to tell them that the ticket sales would begin in a month's time... so their curiosity has already been satisfied now that an exact date has been given..."


"Good then, this should also give us enough time to see if everything went smoothly with our trip to Stepstones and send back the message to prepare for the next trade excursion..." Jon nodded before he opened the wooden door and entered the shop.


The shop was simple, clean and big with plenty of space for a dozen people to stand around comfortably, which was more than anyone could say about any other shop on this street. There were a couple of beautiful paintings of ships, sailors and sea hanging on the wall and on the left side, there was a wooden desk counter behind with sat an empty chair.


"He must me in the back," Merchant Sam murmured before shouting towards the back room, "Gill, come out here, boy!"


"Coming!" came the shout of a young boy whose voice had barely started to deepen, "What happened, Uncle? Why did you come—Ah! Captain! You're back!!" he abruptly exclaimed in a surprised tone when he caught sight of the man standing beside Merchant Sam.


"Gill, how are you—" Jon abruptly died in his throat when he fully laid eyes on the exact condition of the boy in front of him and almost immediately his eyes widened and his mind went numb.


Of course, he had expected that it wouldn't be a pretty sight but he didn't think that they would be this cruel to a child who was barely 16...


The boy had dark purple bruises all over his face, his left eye was swollen shut and it seemed to have only just begun to heal, a few of his fingers were swollen as if they had been broken and healed...


All the nails in his left hand had been plucked brutally and he was limping when he walked out so he could imagine the same had been done to his leg... and these were the injuries that could be seen on the outside, so he couldn't even fathom what the rest of his body looked like...


When Gill saw where Jon was looking at he immediately tried to hide his hand behind him as if he was a child who had been guilty of wrongdoing... and that sight immediately broke something in Jon.


Jon rarely felt anger.


In fact, he couldn't even remember the last time he had been genuinely angry.


But this time... after seeing the bruised and beat-up look on the young boy's face he felt rage like never before...


He had been the one to recruit the boy and he had been the one to bring him all the way from North to here in Braavos, so he had always felt that it was his responsibility to take care of him...


But he had failed in that...


He had let this young boy not only get captured but also get tortured and almost killed and that thought made his blood boil and sent him into such a fury, that he couldn't control it...


He wanted to bring those dead pirates back to life and then torture them himself... he wanted them to suffer the same pain that boy had...


And then he wanted to find all the pirates that had been involved in this and tear them apart piece by piece with his own hands... and then...


His left hand was tightly gripping the sword at his waist while his right hand was making a deathly fist so tight that he could it become wet with blood... and his urge to kill became stronger and stronger...


"Jon...Jon...JON!!" Uncle Sam yelled in an alarmed tone suddenly bringing Jon back to the present.


"Huh? Wha..."


And just like that the haze in his mind cleared and Jon felt as if his mind was hit with a splash of cold water.


It was then, that Jon realised that he was shaking, sweating and breathing heavily as if he had trained for hours in the training yard and his heart beating so fast that he felt as if people would be able to hear it from a mile away.


'What happened to me... Why did I...' Jon had never felt like this, he had never lost control like this, ever. He was not a person prone to anger, not in this life especially not in his previous... In fact, this was the first time he had felt so...


"A-Are you alright?" Sam asked in a concerned but also slightly scared tone, his eyes flickering between Jon's face to his left hand with something akin to amazement.


"Huh? Oh, no, I am fine. It's just..." And that is when Jon noticed where the Merchant was looking and lowered his head to see a sight that dumbfounded him.


The sword handle he was gripping with his left had been completely bent and was almost on the verge of cracking...all because of how tight Jon was holding it. Which was humanely impossible, "Ah, this...hmm... I guess the sword..." Jon replied, shaking his head and removing his hand from the sword, deciding to leave this mystery for a later time. "It must have been from a defective product."


'But it had been made by the best blacksmith in Winterfell...' Sam wanted to say but kept it in. He wasn't sure what exactly had happened but he heard plenty of stories about the so-called wolf blood, and since the boy already had an ancient magical ability in him that was supposed to be a part of legends... it wasn't too out of the realm of possibility that he had other abilities too...


"Anyway, How are you now, Gill?" Jon asked after taking a deep breath.


"I am fine now, Captain." the boy replied while scratching his head before he flinched in pain and looked at his tremoring nail-free hand with a wry smile, "Well mostly, fine..."


"Tell me everything, from the very beginning..." Jon asked in a very solemn tone.


"Well, I closed the shop early that day and was on my way back..." He immediately began telling the story with a practised tone as if he already told it to others countless times.


"...Hehe, and since I knew that Merchant Sam and the other were going to arrive in Braavos in just a few days. I was sure that I would be saved by them, so I didn't panic and resist them instead I gave them the wrong information that you were in Pentos for a meeting with Magisters about some goods so that they would leave me alone..."


Gill then shook his head with a wry smile, "But I guess they didn't like that I gave them the information too quickly or maybe they were just bored while waiting for a ship to take them away... anyway, even though I gave them the information, they still came by every few hours to ask the same question to see if I crack and change my answer... But I didn't. Not even once."


"That..." Jon didn't know how to reply to the hint of pride in the boy's eyes and could only say, "I... am very proud of you Gill. You are the bravest boy, no Man that I know."


"Hehe, I didn't do that much," the boy said shyly but his chest swelled with a surge of happiness at that and even though he knew that Jon was almost the same age as him and that he could be only saying those words to comfort him but still... those words almost made him feel like he was praised by his...parents.


"Now, Tell me, Gill. Are you fit enough for long-term sea travel, or do you need some more rest?"


"Eh? Oh, Yes, I am completely fit." Gill replied enthusiastically to Jon's question, "Maybe I can't fight for a while but I can still help around the ship and..."


"You misunderstand," Jon said shaking his head, "I don't want you to come with me for those things. I want you to come with me because I am going to destroy all those Pirates belonging to that group..." Jon said in a dark tone, "and I want you to be there to witness that. So do you want to come with us?"


"I...." Gill was flustered for a while on how to answer this before he abruptly remembered what it had felt like staying inside that closed room with no windows, getting starved, tortured, screaming with no one there to hear him, feeling so helpless, so weak... and almost immediately a resolute expression appeared on his face and he replied, "I want to."


"Good." Maybe Jon was wrong and maybe the boy would be better off with some therapy or even retiring from this job but this wasn't Earth and here in this world, it was believed that revenge was the best therapy, "Then let's go catch some pirates..."


///

 

[ATP]

Well,since he is skilled warg,and his enemies do not knew that,they arleady lost,becouse he could choose when and where they would be fighting.
Only problem is inhuman strenght,he should not have it.Unless...it is part of Others heritage?

But,what after destroing pirates? how he plan to kill Mountain and survive? or,to be precise,do not leave any signs that he was responsible?

being warg is not enough for that.