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..."


///

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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 !