A Game of Textbooks

Chapter 4

(Thanks for the reviews, basically, 5 reviews for every ten chapters is my requirement. Now, onto the responses:

ChasetheOriginal: Stop changing your name. And 4/5? 8/10? Surely I could get 9/10?

Does anyone notice the military theme to all this? The Navy, the Border Guard, the Army, you're going to LOVE the next branch that gets involved.)

Davos

Davos Seaworth was a Navy officer under the command of a certain Stannis Baratheon.

Robert Baratheon was formerly a General in the Army, but in a tragic hunting accident, he died the day before his childhood friend, Ned Stark, was shot. This timing brought about certain conjectures about the Lannisters, who were long known to have feuded with both families, and coincidentally, had one of their youngest promoted to the position Robert left.

Robert was survived by his younger brothers, Renly and Stannis. Stannis had continued life as usual, while Renly had opted to stay out of the military, going against generations of tradition.

All this, of course, was a bit over Davos's head. He wasn't what many would call "A great thinker." Rather, he was the perfect soldier. He knew his business, and he stayed out of other people's.

And above all, he could take and follow orders.

But certain things had come to his attention that he was finding hard to ignore, as was his custom. Certain shady behaviors on the part of his commanding officer, Stannis Baratheon.

But Davos had been taught that his place was to obey, to the best of his abilities, his commander's orders. And so, our stalwart seaman is caught between a rock and a hard place. This was why he hesitated as he raised his fist to knock on Stannis's door.

Is it really my problem? He asked himself. Surely, I don't understand what's going on. Do I? He was turned away and came face to face with Melisandre, a certain woman rumored in his town to be a witch. Davos wasn't a man to trust such rumors, but one thing he knew: She was nothing but trouble, witch or no.

"Well. If you could move away from Stannis's door…" she said in a clear, crisp British accent.

Davos began to passively move away but then suspicion rooted. "Why are you requiring entrance to his quarters?" he asked.

She laughed a long, full laugh. "I can assure you I'm not here to assassinate him. I'm simply an old friend." She drew herself to attention and gave a mocking salute. "Permission to enter?"

Davos hesitated, but then the door opened, admitting Stannis himself into the hallway. "Davos? What are you doing lurking outside my door?" he asked gruffly, turning around, and seeing Melisandre. "Ah! Melisandre! Good to see you! Come on in, come in." she strode inside gracefully, giving one glance over her shoulder at Davos, closely followed by Stannis.

"So, I was thinking-" Melisandre began, and then the door slammed shut, muffling the voices beyond Davos's hearing. The seeds of conspiracy were now fully rooted in his head. He simply couldn't believe that Stannis, who was the king of all hardasses, would be friends with Melisandre. He, as a low ranking officer, couldn't simply barge in.

However, if he had, say urgent news… He shook his head in disgust. He wasn't a man for this intrigue and deception and plotting. He was going to trust Stannis, and hope to any god out there that trust wouldn't be betrayed.

Jon

Jon emptied his gun into the target with a concentration like none his drill sergeant, Alliser Thorne, or his captain, Jeor Mormont, had ever seen.

Sergeant Thorne began racking his brain for ways to punish Snow for this, but for once, he came up blank.

Jeor, on the other hand, walked up to the smaller figure and laid a massive hand on his shoulder. "Is something the matter, Jon?" he asked with a concerned air.

"No, Captain. Is there a problem?" Jon replied, still firing. Jeor hesitated. Maybe I should just leave the boy alone, he thought, it's not really my problem. Then he shook his head. Jon was under his command, and therefore, under his care.

"You seem, erm, distracted."

"I'm sorry, sir."

"No, not a problem boy, I was just wondering, is there anything on your mind? Something happening at home?"

"Not to my knowledge, sir."

"Well, I'll leave you to it then."

"Thank you, sir."

Jeor strode away shaking his head. I wonder what happened, he pondered. He had no doubt that something had happened. Jon was normally much livelier than this. Hopefully the boys in his squad could help him out.

Meanwhile, just that was happening. Pyp, a friend of Jon's and the squad clown, strolled up to him. "Planning on shooting anyone soon?" he asked, studying the impressive results of his efforts.

"Just you unless you leave me alone." Jon replied, still concentrating fiercely on the target. Pyp laughed.

"With that level of accuracy, you'd be lucky to hit somewhere in my hemisphere." Pyp mocked. "Besides, wouldn't that offend your girlfriend or something?"

Jon cracked a smile. "My girlfriend might shoot you first."

"Sounds like she's a firecracker."

"In more ways than one." Jon replied.

Pyp clicked his tongue. "Well, my, my, is our chaste friend finally learning about the seamier side of life?"

Jon laughed. "Oh yes, I'm the chaste one. I'm just like a little five year old, my mind pure and innocent. I mean, my junk is significantly less innocent, but it's the thought that counts."

Pyp nodded sagely. "Of course, of course."

A massive pair of hands lifted the small boy, set him to one side, and the owner of those hands stepped forward into Pyp's former place. "Well, hello Mammoth. Nice to see you still have a fine grasp of manners and etiquette."

"Mammoth," as he was called by his squad, was just as tall and hairy as his namesake. He ruffled Pyp's hair. "Shut up, pipsqueak." He laughed, which sounded vaguely like an amused avalanche.

Jon shook his head. "Border Guards, where we take our duties seriously."

Pyp laughed. "Some do. Some don't. Slayer, for one, takes the Guard very seriously. So seriously that he nobly defended our great country against a plague of coyotes."

Sam Tarly, or "Slayer" as he was called, was a coward. A full blown, self admitted coward. So, when he was on patrol, and bushes started rustling, he began a voice cracking tirade of demanding that the unknown figure "Show himself!" Finally, terrified out of his wits, Sam had opened fire, sadly killing a coyote hiding in the bushes. Ever since, he was known as either "Sam, killer of Mexicans" or simply "Slayer."

Jon laughed.

"I swear, it's almost like we're brothers."