500 gems = bonus chapters
Additional chapters at:
patreon.com/posts/eminence-in-got-125798646
***
272 A.D.
From Lannisport to Highgarden is over 500 hundred miles. We covered that distance in twenty-five days of leisurely riding and rest stops. It's a lot more fun when you're in good company. On the way the guys told me the peculiarities of working with gold, silver, copper and semi-precious stones. In return, I shared with them the secrets of working with iron and wood, which they listened to with great interest.
The four of us belonged to that rare breed of people who love their work. It was interesting to hear something new, whether it was knowledge or ideas for their future work. For example, Rick got an idea on how to make electrum, an alloy of gold and silver, much more uniform after hearing a few "secret" techniques for creating and working with composite steel.
Along the way, we stopped frequently at various villages, taverns and hamlets. Each of us rested in our own way. While Joen, Rick, and Jack mostly took girls to the hayloft and drank in taverns, I socialized with the locals. Hunters, masons, carpenters, blacksmiths - I talked to all of them, trying to learn something new and interesting about their craft. Sometimes I even paid extra in minted coin for some of their secrets that were not particularly important. The result of these conversations were two new traveling companions who decided to see the world with me. Robin, a young hunter, and Piper, a balding, middle-aged carpenter, fit in perfectly.
The Ocean Road leading from the Western Lands to the fertile southern Expanse was guarded by two castles, Crakehole and Old Oak. They were the frontier houses that had guarded this road since ancient times, on par with the Swifts of Cornfil and the Cranes of Scarlet Lake. These strongholds had been the borders of the two ever warring Kingdoms of Utes and the Kingdom of Meadows and Fields for thousands of years. Only by looking at them and remembering the castles I had seen in Europe did it become clear that the Westerosi had far surpassed the Earthlings in the art of castle fortification, but had hardly evolved towards peaceful construction. Both fortresses were like gorgeous and beautiful pearls amongst a lump of stinking dung. Perfect stone fortifications that are very hard to take, and a bunch of wooden houses around them, built without any plan. If I wanted to take these castles without losses, I'd just wait for a tailwind and set fire to these shacks. Anyone behind the walls would suffocate in the smoke.
So, slowly, once even beating the peasants, who mistakenly called themselves brigands and decided that with pitchforks you can attack armed men, we reached the heart of Prostor - Highgarden. The ancestral castle of House Tyrell and one of the most beautiful castles in the Seven Kingdoms. Perched on a high hill, on the banks of the River Mander, at the intersection of the Sea Road and the Road of Roses, Highgarden was breathtaking.
«It lives up to its name. - I said to the others as we drove into the castle town. The Tyrell residence was drenched in gardens, groves, fountains, shady gazebos, and marble colonnades. It was visible even through the three rings of crenellated white stone walls, where each successive fortification was higher than the other. - Gardens abounded here. Just as the rumors said.
«As long as the other rumors were true. - Rick muttered, as his brother steered one of the wagons. Joan, Robin, and Piper sat behind him, playing a card game. The second wagon, driven by Jack, was loaded with hides and meat that Robin and I had caught while hunting, fish, and various small crafts we'd made on our camping trips. All these things could be sold, and we could get some money, for the boys had refused to take them from me, and they had hardly any money of their own.
«Like what?
«That here the Arbor wine flows in rivers, and the girls are the most beautiful and cheerful in all the Seven Kingdoms. - Rick laughed throatily, and the others supported his uncomplicated joke.
«These rumors can be embodied anywhere, even in the North. - I smiled, too, slightly amazed at how little a man sometimes wants. - The main thing is to have enough coins in your purse ringing.
«Where can I get enough coins? - Howled Robin, who, judging by his sour face and the joyous faces of the others, had lost his last dime.
«Don't worry, they'll be here in two days. - I smiled slyly as I tossed the groschen into the guard's hands.
«How do you know?
«You'll see for yourself.
***
«And remember. If you marinate this beautiful cod in a light wine sauce, every bite will have a slight grape flavor. Your mother-in-law will gasp in amazement when she tries it.
«You really think so? - Naively looked me in the eyes of the girl whose purchase I carefully wrapped in a roll.
«Of course. - I smiled radiantly at her, making her cheeks blush a little. - Every loving mother, deep down, thinks that she's the only one who can look after her son. Even if he's been an adult for a long time. If you show yourself as a great hostess, you will easily melt her heart. Besides, you say she's from Arbor. The people there love the grapes. It should make her nostalgic and bring back fond memories of home.
«Thank you very much. - The young woman, who seemed to be a few years older than me, clapped her hands joyfully like a child as I handed the package of fish to one of her guards. - May the Seven bless you.
«You too, my lady. And congratulations on your imminent marriage. - I said goodbye to the pretty girl, who flashed her braid one last time and disappeared into the city streets. Judging by the silver hair and the crest with a burning beacon at the guard, this maiden was someone from Hightower, so her generosity is not surprising. - Okay, time to pack up. We've sold everything and it's time to whoo-oh... what's wrong with you!?
There was a lot to see. All five of my companions stood not far from our counter and looked at me like sheep at a new gate. Mouths to the ground, golden dragon eyes.
«Y-y-you sold it all in a few hours..." Robin mumbled, glancing in surprise at the wallet hanging from my belt.
«Well, yes. In the West it would have taken two days, but there are plenty of pretty girls in the Commonwealth who appreciate true male beauty. - I smiled, brushing away a lock of hair that had fallen over my eyes. My parents were very handsome people, and I inherited the best of them. A straight nose, thick black hair grown to my shoulder blades, a straight face, skin without a single mole, and our family's bright green eyes, the color of young grass. Without exaggeration I can call myself a good-looking guy, though I'm far from perfect.
«And I've earned almost 40 silver-bronze deer. - After Robin, Joan whispered.
«What's the big deal? - My surprised question only made them stare doomedly at the sky. Well, ten pieces of silver was a lot by their standards, and for them the fact that now that Hightower girl had bought a codfish for a stag and a half instead of the ten groschen they were supposed to pay was a big deal.
After a short argument they decided to take only half of the money, and the rest they handed to me. Pride wouldn't let them.
"Yeah, right," I thought as I lay down on the bed in the room I'd rented in the tavern, having shaken out all the small occupants beforehand. - "They won't have a dime in their pockets tomorrow."
And so it was. In the morning, these five Casans stood before me in the courtyard of the inn in only a pair of socks, begging me to pay their debts. These idi... ahem, not very smart people had managed to get into one of the most expensive brothels in Highgarden, spending almost 60 stags a night. I had to get dressed and go pay off their debts and apologize to the bandera in charge of that brothel.
«Until you pay me back every last dime, you will not come within a hundred yards of the wine and whores! Is that clear?! Or your empty heads will be where they belong! In my ass! - The whole inn had heard me yell for about five minutes, enjoying my copious supply of Andalian language. All accompanied by prophylactic slaps to put my words into their empty heads. - Do you understand?!
«Yes..." The disjointed chorus of voices was not the best answer, but it would have to do.
«The tournament for Mace Tyrell's eighteenth birthday is three days away. Since you have nothing to do in the city, you'll be bored. And a bored man is a dangerous man. He's always coming up with stupid ideas. - As the monologue progressed, my smile grew wider and the faces of my victimized friends paler and paler. - So, my dear debtors, for the next three days you will live like me and do the same.
From the opened prospects Joen even portrayed something similar to fainting. But as Stanislavsky said, "I don't believe it." The others are not far behind him in condition. They have long known about my training and constant work on myself and behind my back sometimes even call me a monster.
«Maybe we shouldn't? - Piper almost whispered, looking at me with the eyes of an innocent doe.
«You have to, my good man, you have to. - My smile turned into an unconcealed grin at those words. They'll know what it's like to be set up like that. Piper's a man of age, though. I'll go easy on him.
The rest of the days before the tournament were routine for me, but not for the others. For them, sleeping only four hours a day, not drinking anything stronger than grape juice, not going out with women, and being on the move all the time was exhausting.
Still, in Westeros reigns a medieval way of life, characterized by great monotony and laziness. Yes, a peasant or a craftsman can work for hours, bent in three legs in the field or workshop, but this work is always homogeneous and does not require at least a little bit to move the brain. I, on the other hand, in order to preserve one of my main advantages over the locals - the sharpness of mind and the speed of thinking of a man of another time, tried to make my life as varied as possible. I constantly invented new exercises, varied my schedule, tried to master new professions and learned everything I could reach. Even if some skills were downright weird or useless. Why would I want to be able to shoot an archery with my feet or do the "finger dance"? Fuck knows, but I was pretty good at it. At least I didn't accidentally shoot anyone or get the nickname "Felix the Fingerless".
***
«Ouch! Watch it! I'm not a scarecrow! - My shout was followed by a good spanking, punctuated by a high-level profanity-laced tirade. I know Joen isn't a squire, or even a squire, but poking me with my own sword... That's insolent. - You don't want me to bleed to death before the fighting starts, do you?
«I don't, I don't..." He muttered under his breath, tightening the last straps on his cuirass. He still resented it. By God, like a little child.
«You realize I couldn't have done it any other way, don't you? - I glanced doomedly at this great-aged child who'd been resenting me all morning because I wouldn't let him participate in the tournament. - This is the Expanse. A land of andals and chivalric tradition. Here, even archers have to be lenniks with their own land to compete. You'd be beaten and ridiculed in this camp.
«I know that, I know that. - Strongly raised his voice ginger that his voice at the last words gave a rooster. It even frightened Bucephalus, whom he was leading under the reins. In this tournament, the general battle was held in a mounted formation, not on foot. This wasn't a big problem for me, because I felt my horse was a part of me, but for many people it was a big obstacle - not everyone has a good war horse. So Rick, Jack, and Joan, who had seen me in Lannisport and lived in my skin for a few days, and suddenly decided that they were in over their heads, were out of luck.
«Besides-" "I'll have to think of something to bring him out of his melancholy. Ginger was the most sensitive of the five. If the brothers went to the forge to work with hammers after my refusal, and Robin and Peiper just asked for time off, Joan... He was always easy to fall in love with, upset, happy.... In general, he was a very emotional person. Hmm... Right! - Where did you get the money for the entrance fee?
After I said that, he felt like he'd been electrocuted. In order to participate in any competition, one had to pay a small entry fee of 10 silver reindeer for a knight. For a simple laborer this amount was unaffordable and immediately discouraged all desire to try their luck. My sun-kissed friend must have forgotten about it while he was fantasizing about slashing his enemies with a shining sword.
«You still owe me money. - I said with a smile, ruffling his fiery mane a little. - So until you earn five pieces of silver, you can't dream of tournaments. You can't take wine in your mouth.
If a man could physically deflate like an inflatable ball, Joen would have been an amorphous mass lying at my horse's feet long ago.
He didn't come to life until I was on my way to the ring.
«Hey! That was four! - I laughed at his resentful roar. Don't flick your beak.
This time the situation was very different from the last tournament. Mace Tyrell's birthday party is a local event, so the main participants will be Spacers. There will be no division into teams or alliances. It'll be everyone against everyone. And that's good.
The expanse is the center of knightly tradition. Knights are the most privileged class here, after lords. And this caste has its own professional deformities. For example, their obsession with the code of chivalry and all the problems that come with it. For example, honor forbids them to attack in the back and fight two or three on one. Because of this, the locals don't much like general skirmishes and favor skirmishes, honing their spear skills much better than swordsmanship. And I could use that a lot right now.
After the herald had announced my name with the nickname Gray, I paid my respects to the hosts of the tournament, as local etiquette dictates.
Luthor Tyrell was a sturdy man, with a thick black beard, with a slight graying, and kind brown eyes. According to the locals, he was already 47 years old this year, and he still behaved like a small child. He was always organizing feasts, going hunting, always laughing and having fun, raising the mood of the people around him. Everyone loved him, but realized that the real power was concentrated in the hands of his wife, sitting next to him.
Lady Olenna Tyrell, maiden name Redwyne, was still a beautiful and very attractive woman, despite being in her fourth decade. Her blonde hair and small freckles, a trait common to all Redwyns, did not spoil her at all and only added to her appeal. But everyone in Westeros, who follows the rumors, has long known that her true strength was not in her beauty, in which she lost to the same Queen Sheira in her youth, but in her strong and sharp mind. It is thanks to her that for the last 20 years the Spaceland has been a single monolithic force led by the Tyrells, where Luthor is represented by a beautiful and fragrant rose to which all aspire, and Olenna by thorns guarding that rose. Hence her famous nickname, the Queen of Thorns.
Next to my parents sat the man of the occasion, Mace Tyrell, with his fiancée, who turned out to be the girl I sold the fish to - Aleria Hightower. Together they looked very harmonious. Tall, broad-shouldered, with thick, curly brown hair, Mace was a famous strongman and knight, who had been a good horseback rider until he was knocked out. Aleria was a match for him. Tall, statuesque, with a long silver braid and a proud posture, the girl had a beauty that combined Valyrian and Andalian features. But it was clear that what the young ones had in common was their personalities - cheerful, restless, and a little...shallow. I could tell from talking to Aleria, but Mace was said to be more like his father than his mother.
"Interesting family," I thought, pulling away to the farthest corner of the ring, where it was more convenient to watch the others and where there were fewer people. - "And they also say that Westeros is a purely medieval world. No medieval world could tolerate such a pronounced matriarchy under a grown man. In Europe, the Tyrells would be the laughing stock of the world."
Waiting for the last rider to greet his hosts and for the horn to sound, signaling the beginning of the fight, I rushed into the thick of it. There were none of these monsters, mistakenly called royal guards, and I could spread out.
What is combat? Some people give it a sacred and sublime meaning, calling it a dance where every move or mistake can be the last. Others consider a fight a branch of hell on Earth, where men let their inner beasts loose, giving themselves over to the adrenaline rush and their bloodlust.
The former are usually skilled swordsmen, honoring their skill over brute force. For them, the battle is a series of endless duels, from which they just need to come out victorious. A striking historical example of such fighters were samurai and knights, for whom honor and skill in battle was everything.
The second representatives are better known as berserkers, fighters who rely heavily on the strength of their bodies and the emotions that enhance them. They are like bulls, going at their enemies like a red rag, not noticing anyone around them.
I belong to the third, separate class of people. The most important thing for me in battle is to keep my sanity, not to let strong feelings take over. "Only constant control of yourself and your surroundings will give you any guarantee of survival" - my brother and I were always told by my father during training. He spent a great deal of time on our self-discipline, believing that a cool head would help us out more often than weapon skill or brute force. And I was in complete agreement with him. The only downside was that such warriors were not liked because most of them were mercenaries - men of gold and selfishness who could not be forced to fight at their own risk.
And now I felt like I was among a flock of white sheep. The Spacers fought only one-on-one, leaving their backs open, and most of the newcomers were either inept or so shitty armed that they couldn't even hurt the Summer Knights. There were, of course, a few fighters with skills and equipment equal to the locals and not shy to stab them in the back, but they got too disengaged at the beginning of the fight and were quickly pacified by joint efforts.
I, on the other hand, acted smarter. Quietly, without any haste, I slid between the fighters, making sharp and sudden lunges, "helping" to lose to the strongest or most enduring. The simplest "divide and conquer" tactics. Of course, occasionally I had to get into fights with the smartest who noticed my maneuver, but most of those present were already very tired, and it was not difficult to knock them out of the saddle.
It couldn't go on like this for long. In a couple of minutes there were only seventeen people left on the horses - fifteen "duelists" and me with the same cunning mercenary, who acted on the other side of the field. I had to use all my skills.
"Strike, retreat, turn, poke, defense." - My thoughts fluttered around in my head like birds in a cage, while my hands, like windmills, swung the axe, knocking out of the saddle the most unturned and slow opponents. I was saved only by my instincts, firmly ingrained in me by my father, and the experience of fighting with my brother, who wielded a sword much better than those present.
Shkrub...
"You bastard." - An unexpected blow in the back, from the mercenary, almost knocked me out of the saddle. I was saved only by the shield, which I had thoughtfully hung on my back and withheld most of the damage. But it wasn't all bad. I stopped one of the blows and hit the rat with all my might. The rat didn't expect my swing to change direction and went flying from a good blow to the cuirass. But I didn't manage to see him land on the ground - the other Spartans didn't give me a break.
Despite my barely maintained calm, my head remained cool and my thoughts clear. The superiority of the two-handed axe over the one-handed sword began to show itself. Already after five or six of my blows my opponents' weapons were broken or knocked out of their hands, and their shields were shattered or destroyed, while they themselves could not even approach me to strike with a sword.
So, imperceptibly, I was the only one left on the horse. A horn sounded, heralding my victory. Many disappointed and angry shouts could be heard from the stands. Many were betting on their favorites, most of them former local and famous knights. The victory of some alien didn't do much to please their patriotic feelings. It got worse as they saw my face again and recognized my age. And if Luthor and Olenna were able to contain their emotions, then Mace and Aleria were in complete shock. The Heir to Highgarden, though he was of age and about to marry, had never won a tournament in his life. And that made him very sad. He wanted the glory of a knight and warlord that would keep his name alive through the ages, like Harlen Tyrell, Serwyn the Mirror Shield, or Garth the Green-handed himself. The last war was against the Nine-Grove Kings and at this time Mace had only just come into the world. So his only chance to prove himself was in tournaments, where he had no success. The heir to the Guardian of the South was too average and unexceptional in his skills, and his mother, who knew too well that too often cripples and invalids became cripples and invalids in the jousting ring, cared too much for him.
And when he saw a boy a few years younger than you winning tournaments, his peace of mind wavered.
«It's you! - Well, the shock of his chosen one was much more understandable. The fact that a young fishmonger, with whom you quietly discuss problems, will turn out to be the winner of the general fight at the tournament in honor of your fiancé's birthday... It was more like the plot of some novels.
«Greetings, my lady. - As the penguins used to say in a cartoon I watched with my grandson, "smile and wave." - It's only been a few days, and you're even more beautiful. I even envy your fiancé. It's rare to see such a harmonious couple.
The expanse is the center of the local knight's dream. Here ladies often see riders on white horses and hear long serenades in their honor. But sometimes a simple and uncomplicated compliment can be more pleasant than hundreds of words. Aleria's face flushed against her will, and smiles appeared on Mace and Luthor's faces. The former liked the fact that he was "subtly" hinted that he was worthy of the hand of the first beauty of Staromest and the whole of Prostor, and the latter was proud that he had "chosen" such a good bride for his son. Only Lady Olenna's face remained unchanged.
«Ahem... - Still, upbringing honed by millennia is a terrible thing. Even in such a situation, Hightower was easily able to regain her composure and complexion. One of the "virtues" of any lady. - It's a pleasure to see you, too, sire--
«Felix. And I'm not a sire. - Why don't I pay some poor knight to knight me? I saw half the people in the room cringe. I've fallen down a few notches in their eyes. Oh, don't. This will not be the best for my reputation.
Unfortunately, further dialog was interrupted by the quiet and almost imperceptible coughing of the Spike Queen. Too much time and attention had been spent on my person. I quickly took my horse under the reins and went to my tent to change and get ready. The archery competition is always held on the same day as the general battle and I need to be ready for it.
In the end the day ended predictably enough. Among the archers this time there was an opponent of the same level as me, but luck was on my side. Had it not been for a sudden change of wind direction that knocked down the flight of my opponent's arrow, there is no telling who would have won. This was the third and last day of the tournament, so the awarding took place today.
The Commonwealth is the richest region of Westeros, and the Tyrells are its grandlords. That automatically makes them one of the wealthiest families among the entire aristocracy of the Seven Kingdoms. In terms of wealth, they can only be surpassed by the Targaryens, who are a royal dynasty, and the Lannisters, who have been sitting on the gold mines of Casterly Rock for thousands of years. So their rewards were very large, though smaller in comparison to the royal tournament in Lannisport. A thousand gold for winning the mounted skirmish, five hundred gold for winning the general skirmish, and 300 for the archery competition. Gigantic money by the standards of the common people and most of the small and middle lords. But for the Great House, these were ordinary expenditures that happened every year. A measure of their family's success and prosperity.
I and my companions did not stay long in Highgarden. There was no branch of the Iron Bank in the castle, and it was dangerous to stay with such money on hand, even in the calm Prostor. We quickly poured the coins into a trunk made by Piper and upholstered with iron, and set off. It was 120 miles to Staromest and nearly a week of leisurely travel.
The Citadel and all its knowledge awaited us.
***
Don't forget to donate gems.
And subscribe at:
patreon.com/FanFictionPremium