He awoke to sunlight bathing his room and bed, and his stomach growling beneath him.
I've eaten nothing since arriving in the city.He realized, and that only made his stomachache even worse. The rest of his body also felt sore, though that was more a result of how far he walked yesterday rather than the bed he slept on, which remained by far the softest he'd ever had.
He laid there for moment and considered his plans for the day, that is to say, how little he actually had to do.
Before this, he always had some distance to travel across the Vale or something to do on theGunthor Royce.Before that there was always work to be done around the mines and Willowbrook, which he had now left in the capable hands of Donnel Waynwood before he departed.
But now? There was nothing for him to do but wait for Tobho to finish work on the axe.
I still don't have enough gold to pay him.He remembered, sitting up groaning. He still disliked the idea of just asking the sum from Lord Arryn like some beggar, even though the lord would hardly notice it gone.I'll ask him if I fail to make it on my own.
It gave him something to do at least, he sat up and cleaned his eyes, then found something to wear. He hesitated between a nicer doublet of wool and a looser shirt of linen, before resolving to wear the linen, he wished to see what opponents training yards of the capital could offer.
Stagnation is death.
But he had no sooner left his rooms when he ran into Lord Arryn's steward, the man asked how Jon had slept, before handing him a bag filled with small rolls of parchment.
"What is this?"
"Many lords, ladies and knights sent runners asking for your presence at various breakfasts, lunches and dinners, I gave up on keeping track and left them in this bag."
"What? Why?" He asked, reaching inside and picking a few at random.'The knight of Winterfell is invited to break his fast with Lorde Beesbury' 'Lady Harte invites Ser Jon to a tour of the gardens under chaperon of her brother Ser Elwood Harte'
"Minor or knightly houses hoping to use you to grow closer to the King or Hand after news of your fornication yesterday, or to leech renown as word of Willowbrook spreads." The steward explained. "It is a… delicate dance you must lead."
"Must I? I don't know any of these people." Jon said, shuffling through a few more missives.'the Lord Bar Emmon invites the son of Ned Stark to dinner with his esteemed family' 'Ser Rogier invites the knight of the Gates to an afternoon of sparring'"And if their interest is not genuine, then what point is there in entertaining them?"
"If you are to stay in court much longer then you can never have too many allies, ser."
"How can I trust in friendships founded on transactional grounds?"
"Most alliances are founded on transactional grounds, ser, it is why the dance is so delicate." The man said.
"I know little of delicacy." Jon admitted.
"It is hard, but do your best, ser." the man said, a fatherly smile on his face. "I would at least entertain the offers of Ser Rambton, Lord Follard and Lord Dondarian. From what I know of them, they are of an honorable sort, I can send back polite declinations to the rest."
And so, instead of breaking his fast in peace, he found himself sharing a table with Ser Rambton and his three sons. They were rather friendly and personable at the start, exchanging stories over plates of eggs, cider, bread, bacon and butter. He asked after each of the younger Rambtons interests and abilities and they asked after Willowbrook and the blackfish. Jon even admitted he was rather short changed, and the knight told him of various bounties for outlaws issued by the Stokeworths, Mootons, Rosbys and Tyrells alike.
The conversation was jovial and light, and Jon found himself enjoying their company. Until the subject of Jon's conversion to the Seven was brought up, that is to say, how he had not converted, and wasn't planning to.
"What!?" the knight asked, his expression indigent and his face turning as red as his hair and sideburns. "You are a knight and you still believe in tree spirits and gremlins?"
"I would not forsake the gods of my homelands for any title before my name." Jon shot back. "And they are as true as your Seven."
There was unfortunately no recovering the breakfast after that, the man kept pestering Jon about things he did not understand. His sons were no better, and no matter how hard he tried to turn the talk back towards something less devise, the four would not move on. He felt his temper slowly rising, and eventually he was asked by the knight to leave. Only after the fact did he remember that he was doing this to make allies rather than enemies.
From being hidden away during feasts as to not shame my father to being sought after by name. He thought as he was back in the ever-vibrant hallways and gardens of the Red Keep.The price of renown, oh Robb could I use you here…
His brother had far more experience with lords and their sons nibbling at his heels. He would always complain about them to Jon and Theon, but he handled them well every time, better than Jon did Ser Rambton and his sons in any case.
Lord Follard at least, proved to be of much better company than the Rambtons. He was a large, merry man that took up the space of two men, but he had a charm about him that made Jon feel at ease from his first laugh. With them were the Lord's son and daughter, the boy was older than Jon, but still looked to him with eyes as wide as plates when he asked about his duel with the chieftain.
The girl was close to his age and was courteous and demure to a fault. She was as quiet as a mouse, but she kept staring at him regardless and urged him to keep elaborating on everything he said. Their lord father on the other hand seemed to hide a pragmatic mind beneath his wide smiles, he asked Jon after the keep he would be receiving in Lord Royce's lands, as well as the income of his soon to be villages.
Does he seek to marry me to his daughter?Jon wondered, taken aback by the thought. This was again Robb's domain rather than his, and while his daughter was not hard on the eyes, he hardly knew the girl, and he was not ready to make such a commitment over cakes in the gardens.
The lord did not seem to expect such a commitment from him however. He still pushed for the two of them to spend another afternoon together soon, but otherwise did not make mention of any betrothal or marriage.
I doubt I'll be in the city for a second day with the young lady.Jon thought, but he still rather enjoyed the first, at least compared to his earlier breakfast.Just one more and I am free for the day.
It would be a lunch he would share with the Lord Dondarion and his squire in their rooms in the Red Keep. The man was rather well built, and Jon could tell from both his stature and his posture that he was an experienced fighter. He spoke only in pleasantries until the servant left them to their meals, only when they were gone did the lord turn to him with a soft smile.
"Truth be told, ser it was not I who sought you out, but rather, my squire." The lord said, extending a hand to the boy who had his eyes shyly lowered. "He wished to tell you of your mother."
"My mother!?" Jon asked, turning to the boy in question, he had dark blue eyes and a head of blond hair. "What's your name, son?"
"Ehm, Edric Dayne, ser!" the boy responded, turning his head to face Jon. "Ser Arthur Dayne is my uncle!"
"A man whom my father slew." Jon said, remembering the stories men told of his father, stories Lord Stark would never share himself. "I may not be a Stark in name, but you have my apologies, from my house to yours."
"We hold no grudge, ser." The boy said, looking Jon in the eyes despite his earlier shyness. "My uncle bound his fate to that of a defeated dynasty and he… died with it, just as he wanted. Your father returned his body and Dawn to Starfall, there is nothing to apologize for."
"Then I am glad." Jon said.Even a knight as legendary as the Sword of the Morning can die with his oaths, I hope to meet death with such grace when my time comes."But what is it about my mother?"
"Her name is Wylla!" the boy exclaimed; his face no longer crestfallen. "She's a servant at Starfall, and uh, you've never seen her. But she's accompanying with my sister to the capital soon, to attend Lady Celtigar at the Sept of Baelor. We can arrange something if you wished to meet her."
Wylla…he thought, pulling and stretching at the name in his head, a name he wished to know since Catelyn Stark told him she was no mother of his.Wylla. A lowly servant of Starfall made the honorable Lord Stark break his wedding vows, and then I was born.
Some part of him wished to turn down the offer, fears of her hating him or wishing he was never born swirling his skull. But he knew he couldn't, least he spends the rest of his life in regret.
"I would love to." He said, even as fears of the worst and dreams of the best dominated his mind.
"I will send for you when they arrive then." The Lord Dondarian said, a wry smile on his face. "Which should be in a week or two."
My sword would not be finished yet.He thought. He had no excuses not to see her, to show her that something came of rearing him.
The three then had a pleasant, if somewhat quiet lunch. The young Dayne hounded him with a myriad of questions about not only his knighting, but also Winterfell and the Lord Stark after whom he was named. Jon answered as best as he could but was in no state to engage in deeper conversation, too occupied with thoughts, worries and images of his mother.
I should invite her to live with me in my castle in the Vale.He thought.Would she even accept?
He was not used to worrying and obsessing over anything, and he did not enjoy it. And so, in an effort to clear his mind, when the lunch was done and goodbyes were exchanged, Jon found himself a sword of blunted steel and a courtyard full of men to face.
I left Winterfell for the Gates to find better opponents, and there should be even more of them here.
Though his first few opponents left him wanting, their movements were either too rigid or too fluid, their arms too weak or too heavy, and their footwork too simple or too complicated. They did not wholly understand their reach nor that of their opponents, and they gave too much respect to strikes they should casually dodge and not enough to blows that sent them to the dirt time after time.
He was happy to be thinking about something else of course, but there was only so many times he could effortlessly shatter someone's guard or dominate another with blow after blow before he got bored of it.
But just as he was beginning to think the capital had no decent fighters, did a man of good dress and attitude approach him.
"Would you be interested in sparring with Ser Garlen Tyrell, ser?" The man asked him, and Jon readily agreed.
He knew of the Tyrells of course, but he was not entirely sure who the knight in question was. Yet as he was led to another one of the Red Keep's many training yards did his eyes finally fall on the man. A handsome, older man, and even before their clash, from the way he carried himself, the way he moved and gripped his sword and board, Jon knew he had found himself a worthy opponent.
"Ser Garlen, I have gathered men for you." The man who had approached Jon earlier told the knight. Who rose to his feet with a smile and a nod and lowered the guard on his helmet, before moving to stand opposite him.
Jon squared up in anticipation, his eyes trying to study and prepare for every movement of the other knight, though then he spotted three other men crowding around him, also facing the Tyrell. Jon lowered his sword and turned to them in confusion.
"What are you doing?" He asked them, though it was the knight who responded for them.
"I prefer to train against multiple opponents at once." The knight explained. "To better prepare me for actual battle."
"Smart." Jon said.I should do that."But you'll not survive long against me if I have three others on my side."
"We shall see, won't we?" the man said, and even under his helmet, Jon could see his confident grin.Such confidence deserves my respect if nothing else.
Unfortunately for Tyrell, he would need far more than that.
Jon started slowly at first, only poking and prodding at the man's defenses. His shield hand seemed as solid and unbreakable as Lord Yohn's back in Winterfell. Were Jom alone in this duel, he would truly have to wrack his mind to figure out how to break his guard, but Jon had three other men attacking the Tyrell with him.
He need only wait for the man's attention to be even slightly split to rear his two-handed sword behind him and bring it down on his shield with devastating force. His guard held, of course, but Jon knew there were only so many of those blows someone could take before they collapsed.
The knight tried to punish him for the overextension, quickly swinging his sword around to catch Jon as he recovered, but the bastard casually flicked his sword to perfectly parry the man's strike.
And beyond him, the Tyrell had three other men to attend to, and to his credit, he masterfully maneuvered both shield and blade to ward them off and fight back. But Jon wasneverwilling to give an opponent even a second to breath; he slammed his shoulder into the man's shield, then swung his sword ahead of him as the Tyrell fell back a step. The man brought his sword to parry Jon's strike, but the bastard followed up with two more blindingly fast and devastating blows, before rearing his foot back and sending the Tyrell flying into the dirt.
The man from the Reach would raise his helmet's guard and find a hand extending to help him to his feet, one he gladly took.
"Heavens, you were not wrong." Garlan Tyrell said laughing, the men behind Jon quickly forgotten. "But I've never seen you on the fields before, who are you?"
"Ser Jon Snow," He said, extending a hand to the other knight. The man's eyes were puzzled for a moment, before they widened in recognition.
"Lord Stark's son, squire of the blackfish." The man said, shaking his hand in respect as he nodded to him. "I heard tell of your deeds in that village in the Vale, truth be told I thought it exaggerated, but now I see it is not."
"Thank you, ser." Jon said, trying to stop his smile from showing. He cared not for the admiration of petty lords and knights who saw only in him an opportunity to further themselves, but the respect of fighters like Ser Garlen or Ser Barristan was a different story. "Though I did wish to ask ser, I heard you had a bounty out for an outlaw in the area?"
"Ah, that. It is my reason for being in the city." The man said, he turned to grab a jug of water from behind him, before taking a deep gulp. "A lowlife attacked the escort of one of my cousins and kidnapped her, then… forced himself on her. But the gods were kind, and we managed to capture him and rescue her, had his neck in a noose, before his gang interrupted the execution and ran off with him."
"And then he ran off to somewhere near the capital." Jon finished.
"My scouts followed him to the Kingswood to be exact. Though like a cockroach he continues to evade us." Garlan Tyrell elaborated, then took a sheet of parchment from his pockets. "We received permission from Lord Renly Baratheon, the Master of Laws, to pursue them into the king's lands months ago, had a bounty out for head even longer than that and I have personally led three expeditions into the Kingswood after him already, but still he draws breath."
A raper to bring to justice and gold to be made.Jon thought, there was no downside to this, expect maybe one.I cannot be out of the city when Lady Allyria's party arrives.
"When are you planning your next expedition, ser?"
"Soon." He said. "Though I begin to worry he might have escaped already without my knowing."
"Then let us depart after him before nightfall, ser." Jon said, his tone with the same authoritative tone he carried back in Willowbrook. He looked up slightly and caught sight of Zephyr in the clouds above. "You will not find a better scout and outrider than the blackfish in all the kingdoms, and he had taught me much, ride with me tonight, and your raper will be strung up once and for all."
That's it for this batch of chapters, not sure if this arc ends in the next few or the one after that, either way hope youve enjoyed them