Jon

Jon felt relief wash over him as he spotted the outlines of the city of Hesh. The fortified walls were made of pale sandstone and the sunlight that shimmered off the surface gave the city an almost dream like appearance.

Brushing the sweat from his brow he let his gaze wander over the picturesque landscape surrounding the Lhazareen city. Far and wide rolling hills of pastured stretched endlessly and somewhere in the distant he saw the faint blue shimmer of a river.

Three moons ago he joined the Second Sons and in time he will fight his maiden battle against the Dothraki. Like all recruits he had to undergo a rigorous training program. Jon soon realized that his teacher's were very different from Ser Roderik. While the knight certainly thought them with a firm hand, none of the men here treated him with the same care. No, most of the men here were veterans who drank themselves bloody from the countless wars aged between the Free Cities.

They were mostly trained in swordsmanship, archery and riding. Every day he got up when he first light hit the horizon and often fell into a deep sleep the moment he fell into his bed.

Despite the hardship Jon didn't complain about the training as he didn't expect anything less from an ancient sellsword company like the Second Sons. He was also eager to prove himself, though the hot weather made it harder for him than he anticipated. The constant heat slowed him down and dulled his senses. By midday he was often exhausted and drenched in sweat.

I am better than that, he always told himself when his bruises pained him too much, but with time he recognized that his tolerance increased. It was a subtle change, but better than nothing. Still he often longed for a cool shade or a bucket of water to pour over his head.

Like all the other "younglings", as Mero likes to dub them, he was given the standard gear; light armour, a horse, a spear and a shield. Of course Jon had his sword, but that was really his only valuable possession left to him. Of course Jon had his sword, but that was really his only valuable possession left to him. Two years he will have to serve until he receives the gold that will hopefully bring him to his Aunt and Uncle. Part of it also covered the expenses for his horse and weapons.

Thus Jon spend a lot of time caring for his belongings. Especially, his horse needed plenty of attention. It was a young courser and not very well-trained. That made him even thankful for the daily drills with the horse that Kaho imposed on them. Of course, Jon always inclined more towards the sword, but he soon realized that the man knew the mind of the horses better than humans. In time even Jon's horse learned to obey his commands and was able to follow through with the different manoeuvres Kaho tried to instil into them. Most of those manoeuvres involved riding feigned retreats and changing the directions in mid-battle. Other times he even had them storm their horses towards groups of armed men to prepare the horses for the coming hardships of the coming battle.

However, what surprised Jon was how gentle this bear of a man was with the horses. While he drilled them mercilessly he often spend time with the animals and whispered to them in a language Jon didn't recognize at first. Now he knew that it was Dothraki.

It was one of the other "younglings" named Naati who informed him that Kaho once belonged to their fearsome enemy. Naati himself was a Lhazareen, but grew up in the Free Cities where his mother fled after the destruction of her town by a Dothraki horde. Like most Lhazareen he had copper skin and almond-shaped eyes, but unlike his peaceful kin he held an almost burning anger for the Dothraki. Naturally, he held no love for Kaho, but he hid it well in his presence.

While Jon didn't share the young man's hatred against the Dothraki, he often found himself in the company of Naati. Unlike the other men he didn't seem to distrust Jon or mind that he was from the Sunset Kingdoms. On the contrary, he held a sheer insatiable curiosity and often walled Jon with questions about his home. In return Naati liked talking about his own people.

"Hesh is a rich city," Naati stated as he led his horse closer to Jon. Once he had Jon's full attention he turned around and pointed at a sea of sheep grassing on the rolling hills in the distance."My mother was born near the town of Kosrak. When she was a little girl my grandfather took her to the great sheep market here in Hesh. It is the biggest one held among my people and accompanied by merry festivities. They also say Hesh has the most beautiful women. That is why the Dothraki like to carry them away," he added and Jon heard the resentment tainting his usual soft voice.

"It looks very peaceful," Jon admitted and straightened himself in his saddle. His arse hurt from the long ride and the piece of cloth he wrapped around his head was threatening to come loose."Though I still long for a little bit of shade."

An amused smile crossed over Naati's lips.

"I see you miss your frozen water…what did you call it again?"

Jon laughed recalling the strange looks Naati gave him when he tried explaining the concept of snow.

"Snow," he answered and pronounced it as clear as possible.

"Snow," Naati replied and scoffed."I still have a hard time imagining a world covered under a white cloth of... snow. Not that it matters. Soon the Golden Hordes will come again and shed the blood of my people. I assume it isn't much different in the Sunset Kingdoms. The stronger ones butcher the week ones, no matter where they live."

He is not wrong, Jon thought, but kept his thoughts to himself. He understood that Naati was a man harbouring deep anger inside him and Jon wished to have no part in stoking it further. A man driven by revenge is aimless, Jon recalled Lord Stark's words. He forgot the occasion, but the words were still burned into his mind.

"I heard a Khalasar can consist of several hundred thousand riders," he remarked."How many men rode in the one that destroyed your mother's home?" Jon asked and chose his words very carefully. He didn't wish to insult the young man next to him.

Naati winced at the mention of the Dothraki."Mother never liked speaking about it…at least fifty-thousand…it wasn't that big and the Dothraki are often accompanied by their women, children and slaves. Not all of them fight," he explained and Jon listened eagerly. "But they are fearsome warriors. They carry long braids and only cut them off when they are defeated in battle. So if you see a warrior with a long braid…run away," he added and Jon was not sure if he was serious or joking.

Jon nodded his head in acknowledgement of Naati's well-meaning words. Arriving at the city gates they were greeted by the so called Head Shepard of the city of Hesh. According to Naati they are elected every few years in a secret ceremony in which their priests asked the Great Shepard for guidance.

As their leader Mero was the one to be greeted by this Head Shepard who turned out to be a fat, shrivelled old man wearing a sheep-head to cover his hair lack of hair. In his hand he also carried a long wooden staff made of light white wood. A shepard's staff. How fitting, Jon though, but brushed those thoughts away when he saw the light shining in Naati's eyes. He seemed very enthralled by the whole proceedings playing out in front of him.

"What is he saying?" Jon whispered to Naati as they listened to the sing-song words the Head Shepard was giving to Mero.

"He is giving him the hundred blessings of the Great Shepard. He names Mero the protector of the people of Hesh. It is a great honour to receive such a blessing," Naati replied, but Jon doubted Mero understood the degree of respect that was shown to him.

Finished with his blessings several girls appeared who offered bowls filled with sheep-milk. To his credit Mero emptied the whole bowel without any hesitation.

Then each one of them was also offered a bowl. Naati explained to him that this was another sign of respect, for the sheep milk was his people's greatest treasure. Refusing such a gift was akin to spitting into another person's face. Not wishing to appear impolite he drank the fatty milk. Surprisingly, he didn't mind the taste. It was creamy and sour, but not that bad.

"It is good, isn't it?" Naati asked when he spotted the slight smile showing on Jon's lips.

"It is a bit sour," Jon admitted."I think it will take me some time to get used to the taste."

"The water in one's home always tastes the best," Naati replied with a shrug of his shoulders.

Riding through the city they saw the inhabitants observing each of them with great interest. Passing by a group of giggling girls Jon saw them pointing at the blue head-covering wrapped around his head.

"Blue is associated with girls," Naati explained to him and pointed at the girls' bright bluish garb."Once a woman reaches adulthood she exchanges it to a yellow garb."

So they think of me as girl, he realized and felt like a fool. Embarrassed he pulled the covering from his head and let his hand ruffle through his hair. It was nearly back to it's old length and he had the sudden urge to cut it off. Long hair was not a very pleasant attribute in the constant heat.

So he hesitatingly asked Naati to trim his hair. Last time he did it himself and his hair looked like a lumpy head. Obviously not minding Jon's request he went to work and grinned when he was finished.

"Are you planning to go to the girls?" he asked his voice tinged with amusement."The ones that laughed at you I mean. They called you pretty," he added and when Jon started to flush his laughter intensified.

After he regained his composure Naati gave him a knowing look."I see you never had a girl, but I am sure one of them would gladly keep you company."

His remark's made Jon slightly uncomfortable. While he was not really a bastard, he still knew how it felt to grow up as one. Though he liked girls just as much as any other boy his age, he still had no intention of fathering a bastard.

Naati seemed to sense his discomfort and wrinkled his brow.

"You look like a sheep bit you in the balls. Is that another rule from the Sunset Kingdoms," the young man remarked and ruffled through his short dark hair."Are young man not allowed to have girls?"

His innocent question made Jon break out in laughter."No, not at all…but you see…in my home they call me a bastard."

Naati tried to repeat the word Jon used."Ba…star…d?" he asked in an unsure tone."What does that mean?"

Jon sighed."It means my mother and father were not married. My father had another wife and she disliked me for living in her house. It is seen as dishonourable for a man to father a child on a woman who is not his wife."

This obviously confused Naati."That is strange…if you are his son and she is his wife she should consider you as part of the flock even if you are not her blood. Here people often have more than one wife and they call each other sisters and their children are considered part of the whole family no matter who birthed them. My mother was the daughter of a third wife, but she was raised by his first wife because her mother died in the birthing bed."

Jon quite liked the idea, but doubted Lady Stark or any other Lady in the Seven Kingdoms would agree with the customs of the Lhazareen.

…