The Protagonist Who Was Promised (A Jon Snow ASOIAF Quest)

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choice you made last chapter:





[X Dive into the fray (You're no craven! If your time mucking the stables with Robb and Theon taught you anything it was how to throw horse shit at a deserving target...besides, she started it.)








Picking up a wet chunk of manure off of the stable floor, you throw it in Wylla's general direction before taking cover behind a stall door. Hearing a wet thud and a girlish shriek coupled with Athen's laughter, you're quite certain you hit your mark. You peek your head out only to retract it again quickly when Wylla attempts to get her revenge. The debris hits the door with a resounding thud and before you can find more ammunition you're beset from behind by Athen, who tackles you to the soiled ground. With the lute on your back, it was an awkward maneuver but he manages it. You feel your face sinking into the muck and smell the shit right up against your nose as the piercing sound of a string snapping resounds above you.





Angry, you shove Athen off and pry yourself off the ground as you hear the horses around you start to become agitated, neighing and stomping their feet. Rushing after Athen to avenge yourself and your lute, you fail to see another ball of turd thrown from Wylla before it hits you square in the face. Shaking it off, your enmity with Athen is quickly forgotten as the two of you throw even more manure at Wylla, which she artfully dodges before she trips and falls into a hay bale. The three of you laugh together as you put aside your lute and wrestle Athen to the ground. You hear Wylla cheering in the background as you easily gain the upper hand. Athen is a few years younger than you, you think, so it's no surprise that you can overpower him so. Making quick work of him, you pin his still-smiling form against one of the wooden gates. Picking up another pile of horse shit, you…





[ ] Rub his face in the manure. (Turnabout is fair play. When you have the advantage you press it for all its worth.)





[ ] Throw it weakly at his chest. (It's all in good fun. Having your face pressed into the muck was an accident...you think.)





Thoroughly covered in muck and grime the two of you make your way back to Wylla, who is almost pristine in comparison save for her shoulder and the lower part of her dress. Sharing a look with Athen, you pick up more manure to address that.





Wylla squares up her shoulders and addresses the both of you with a voice filled with iron, "Don't even think about it…" She moves her head back and forth looking for a way out but she's being boxed in by you and Athen.





Athen giggles and throws his filthy bundle, hitting her square in the chest. You…





[ ] Let her have it. (You're all for equality in these matters. She should be as dirty as the two of you.)





[ ] Throw it at Athen. (You never pass up the chance to defend a Lady's honor.)





The three of you have made a ruckus that could doubtlessly be heard for a fair distance around, so it is little surprise to you when the stable doors open to reveal an angry bald man brandishing a riding whip. He looks around to see sheer bedlam. "What are you lot doing in here?" He stops dead when he recognizes Wylla under a layer of filth.





"The stablemaster!," Athen exclaims. He grabs you and starts to make his way towards the other exit when Wylla steps right in front of the man.





Primly and in a manner that reminds you of Lady Stark in the best possible way, she daintily folds her hands together and says, "Micah! So glad you're here. My mare, Winny, is out of control. These two tried to wrangle her but it was no use. Your expertise is clearly required." She concludes with a demure smile.





The man looked, quite frankly, flabbergasted but he still maintained a dubious expression. "Milady..."





"My companions and I simply must prepare for the feast. Excuse us, Goodman." The man is given little choice but to comply as Wylla barges ahead heedless of any possible reprisal. After picking up your lute, you and Athen follow in her wake with all due haste giving Micah's whip a studiously wide berth.







The three of you cross the courtyard together leaving a sizable trail on your trodden path across the courtyard. Catching the eyes of the servants with your completely soiled clothes, you follow Wylla up a flight of stairs and into hallways you had not yet traversed. "Wylla, I need to find my quarters yet." She seems to ignore your words for now as you continue through the upper floor. If it was possible, these hallways here were a brighter shade of white than the rest of the castle. "This is the guest wing. The baths are just in here. I don't know where you're supposed to be staying but Serra will," Wylla says as you reach a large, riveted wooden door. She opens it to reveal a well-lit room with at least five tubs of varying sizes, no doubt to accommodate some of the larger residents of the castle. Some had curtains around them to protect the occupants' modesty. This also appears to be where a great deal of clothing is laundered as bundles of clothes and washing boards are piled in a corner near some more basins of soapy water. There's a woman attending to what looks to be a book or ledger of some kind in one of the alcoves. She looks up and immediately adopts an expression of consternation mixed with shock as she takes in your muddy forms. "What manner of trouble have you gotten into this time, little Lady?," she asks in a tone that betrays her amusement.





Wylla repeats her story about her mare going wild to the washerwoman who quirks her lips but nevertheless looks on with suspicion. "...and then Athen and Jon came to my rescue and tried in vain to corral the beast…" Wylla continues her story as if it was a perfectly reasonable tale to explain the filth you and your companions now reside in. Just as Wylla is explaining the final details of your escapade and how you and Athen valiantly wrestled the mare, Serra interjects. "I'm sure they were very brave, milady…" She turns to face you. "Now, you'd be Jon Snow, I'd reckon…" You nod in affirmation. "...I recognize Athen well enough even under all this...mud," she says dubiously.





She turns her attention back to Wylla. "You best attend to yourself, milady. The feast is in a few hours. I'll take care of these two."





Wylla nods and faces you. "I suppose this is where we part, for now, Jon. I'll see you at the feast." As she leaves she gives a brief wave at Athen.





Serra separates the two of you, leading you to to a tub near an alcove that looks over the ocean's horizon. Over the next few minutes, she draws you a bath and brings you a change of clothes, setting it on a side table. After she leaves, you gingerly remove your saturated clothing, laying it out on the floor next to your damaged lute. A string snapped on it during your roughhousing and you don't know where you can get a new one. Perhaps Wyl has seen some merchants at the market that can help you with that. You unwrap the bandage on your arm and find it as soiled as the rest of your garments. Your wound is untouched, however, but you resolve to scour it well regardless.





You relish the feeling of the warm water on your skin as you enter the tub. It's the first bath you've had in over a week and you savor it for all it's worth. Making diligent use of the sponge, soap, and scraper, you scrub yourself clean as much as you can manage. You're not sure if you'll ever get all the shit out of your hair but you try your best. Satisfied with your work, you exit the tub to find that your black boots have been cleaned and black trousers from your baggage have been laid out for you. In addition to one of your black doublets, there were two others as well. The white and sea-green doublets are not yours but they've apparently been laid out for you nevertheless. You…





[ ] Put on your black doublet. (It's served you well so far. It reminds you of Uncle Benjen and home more than anything. You're also becoming convinced that it's simply your color.)





[ ] Put on the white doublet. (You quite like the way it looks with the addition of grey thread on the cuffs and shoulders. It's high quality and you're not sure such finery is meant for a bastard. It's clearly made in the fashion of the Stark colors: colors you have no claim to.)





[ ] Put on the sea-green doublet. (You suppose it would be a way of honoring your host but still...it seems somehow presumptuous to bear colors that are so closely associated with a house not your own.


Quite certain that it was some sort of test, you put on the doublet of your choice and follow Serra to your room down the hall. It's quite well-appointed for someone of your meager status with a four-poster bed, chest, and a writing table with parchment and ink. The drapes are a deep sea-green coupled with a white banner above the bed. Above the backboard of the bed, there is a shelf with a few books on it. You remember that your father often would request the Maester Luwin take a few tomes from the library and leave them in visiting lords' chambers. You don't know of any lord who thanked him for that save for Lord Bolton. Just like the doublets, you think these books were probably selected for a purpose. It might be hubris talking but you can't help but notice that the Manderlys seem to be giving you more consideration than is necessary and it makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end, waiting for the other shoe to drop. You're a bastard. You should have been sent along with Athen to fix your mess in the stables and be sent to your bed in the servant's quarters without dinner. That's what would have happened if you were at Winterfell. You're sure of it. However, Wylla and her quick thinking may have saved you from some consequences even if her story wasn't quite believable to the servant's ears, though it wasn't their place to do anything about it




Stopping your ruminations and taking in the splendor of your chambers, you decide to…





[ ] Go find Harwin and Donnis at the barracks. (You want to see how they've been faring and maybe Wyl has returned with news of your imminent voyage.)





[ ] Stay in your room. (The feast is only an hour out, you're clean, and you know the way there. The time for exploration is at an end. In the meantime, you…) Pick 2





>>>>[ ] Practice your lute. (Your instrument is damaged but you still have five pairs and a half of strings to play with.)





>>>>>> [ ] Refine the tune of Jenny's Song (Increases Charisma boost when performed)





>>>>>> [ ] Add the Song of the Seven to your repertoire





>>>>[ ] Read a book. (You see three books the Manderlys have left for you and you see that they all revolve around knighthood.





>>>>>>[ ] Dawn: A Telling of the Swords of the Morning by Maester Errold. (The chronicles of all those who wielded dawn are held within but you think you might just have the time to peruse the entry on the man who you hope is your uncle: Arthur Dayne.)





>>>>>> [ ] Visenya's Legacy: Chronicle of the Kingsguard by Maester Perestan. (Although you have no aspirations for the institution, you cannot deny the impact it has had on the ideal of knighthood. The book has a chapter on the few Trials of the Seven that have taken place that you find fascinating.)





>>>>>>[ ] The Barrow Knights: Chivalry in the North by Maester Archibald. (The book focuses on the various knightly orders that have existed in the North since the age of heroes. They are few and far between but the houses of Dustin, Ryswell, and Manderly all have knightly traditions to read up on. You are particularly interested in.





>>>>>>>>[ ] House Manderly





>>>>>>>> [ ] House Dustin





>>>>>>>>>[ ] House Ryswell





>>>>[ ] Write a letter. (You should probably let your family know that you've arrived at White Harbor safely. Although Lord Manderly has probably already sent word to your father, you still think sending a letter of your own would be wise. Address a letter to…





>>>>>>[ ] Father





>>>>>>[ ] Robb





>>>>>> [ ] Sansa





>>>>>>[ ] Theon





Character Level gained!





Lvl 3 (2985/3000) –> Lvl 4 (235/4000)


+2 HP


[ ] Pick 4 attribute points





Combat Skills gained!





Unarmed Lvl 2 (165/250) –> Lvl 3 (280/500)





Items altered!





[Jenny] (damaged) – A lute given to you by Mance Rayder, you think it gives it gives each song you sing with it a little more weight. A string has snapped and it doesn't resonate with the same tune it did before. +1 Charisma.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choices you made last chapter:





[X] Rub his face in the manure. (Turnabout is fair play. When you have the advantage you press it for all its worth.)
[X] Throw it at Athen. (You never pass up the chance to defend a Lady's honor.)
[X] Put on your black doublet. (It's served you well so far. It reminds you of Uncle Benjen and home more than anything. You're also becoming convinced that it's simply your color.)
[X] Stay in your room. (The feast is only an hour out, you're clean, and you know the way there. The time for exploration is at an end. In the meantime, you…) Pick 2
-[X] Practice your lute. (Your instrument is damaged but you still have five pairs and a half of strings to play with.)
--[X] Refine the tune of Jenny's Song (Increases Charisma boost when performed)
-[X] Read a book. (You see three books the Manderlys have left for you and you see that they all revolve around knighthood.
--[X] The Barrow Knights: Chivalry in the North by Maester Archibald. (The book focuses on the various knightly orders that have existed in the North since the age of heroes. They are few and far between but the houses of Dustin, Ryswell, and Manderly all have knightly traditions to read up on. You are particularly interested in.)
---[X] House Manderly



Plucking the strings of your lute, you hear the melodious notes of Jenny's Song reverberate within the four walls of your room. Your singing is already quite good, so you focus on refining the tune to accompany it. It proves to be a challenge playing a string short but you manage it and craft the tune to not require its use. Playing the instrument relaxes you and you feel some of the tension in your shoulders ebb away. After finishing the song for the fifth time, you turn towards the bookshelf with a small smile on your lips. You've always enjoyed learning new stories and histories of the world and tales of heroic knights are certainly no exception. Although learning about your possible heritage is tempting and you're curious about the title of the kingsguard book, you find yourself drawn to "The Barrow Knights" and the three seals embossed upon its brown leather cover. Thanks to Maester Luwin's lessons, you recognize the crossed axes as the sigil of House Dustin, the horse head of House Ryswell, and the merman and trident of the Manderlys, your host. Quickly rummaging through the pages, you find the entries of House Manderly towards the back of the book…





Not originally of the North, House Manderly traces its roots back to the Reach; A land of long summers and chivalry. For centuries the knights of House Manderly rode out to battle their Peake rivals for control of the River Mander, from which House Manderly takes its name, winning great fame and renown for their prowess. Legends tell of Marlon the Great, a man of great martial prowess, and his victory over Duston of the Peake in the first of many feuds between the two families before the arrival of the Andals. After House Gardener, the Kings of the Reach, made peace with the invading people, House Manderly, of First Men descent, was quick to convert. The Faith of the Seven endowed the Manderlys with a strong tradition of knighthood that would serve them well in the conflicts to come…





The passages provide a thorough account of the various knights of House Manderly, the founding of the Order of the Green Hand, of which House Manderly still claims membership, and their eventual exodus from the Reach and exile to the North at the hands of their rival, House Peake, and their liege, House Gardener. After their exodus to the North, the Reachmen proved to be vital allies to the Starks, supporting them in every war ever since. After reading the chapter, you realize that the feast must be starting up soon as you hear a rush through the hallway then a pronounced silence. Leaving your lute and dagger in your room, you head down the stairs to the main courtyard, leaving the guest wing behind. As you cross the courtyard on your way to the great hall, you notice a sizably rotund man in Manderly colors talking to a tall man amongst a swathe of people in purple and white. From a distance, you can make out a large, bronze clasp on his purple cloak with two crossed keys, the mark of a Locke.





Through the crowd of servants and members of the House, you try to spot the Stark jerkins of your men but to no avail. Deciding to enter the great hall on your own, you find the grand doors open with people filtering in and out. The sound of bards playing their music fills the air and the smell of all manner of roasted meat finds its way to your nostrils. The lower tables of driftwood and pine that once sat empty are now filled with guests and servants of various stripes while the high tables is still being prepared on the dias where the driftwood throne once stood. A quick look around the seaweed draped hall reveals your companions getting an early start on the ale in an isolated corner. Harwin is laying his injured leg up on the bench and taking slow pulls from his tankard. Donnis and Wyl seem to be taking things at a quicker pace, already swaying in their seats and leaning against each other as they laugh at something one of them said. As you approach, Harwin acknowledges you with a nod and a raising of his tankard and the other two cease their merriment. Wyl waves you down, clumsily motioning for you to take the seat across from him with Harwin to your left. You acquiesce. "How goes it, Wyl?"





He gives you an almost manic grin. "Fine enough, lad. Just got back from the docks and I have to say, there were some fine trading vessels there." He regales you with the descriptions of some of the finest ships with their tall sails and many rows of oars before getting around to the ones who might provide you with passage to the Stormlands. "Met many a captain but only three were willing to take us to Stonehelm…" He pauses and, if possible, his smile only grows wider. "...One, a Summer Islander, was even willing to take us there with one stop and at half the price too!"





Harwin grumbles, wincing from shifting his leg, and interjects. "I like it not. Sure way to end up in chains, taking a deal like that."





Donnis makes his voice heard. "Way to avoid that is sailing with former slaves. I say we go with this Volantene tiger."





Wyl scoffs. "And gallivant across half of Essos before we get to where we're goin'. I don't think so."





Harwin looks them both in the eye before stating his opinion on the matter. "We have no need for these foreign captains. Go with the Stormlander 'imself, I say. He'll know the waters best."





As you listen to their arguments, you start to form an opinion of your own and advocate for…





[ ] The Cinnamon Wind (Captained by the enigmatic Quhuru Mo and protected by his red archers, the Cinnamon Wind only has one stop to make at Tyrosh before its crew is willing to ply Stonehelm with their trade goods. It's a swan ship, relying solely on the fortune of the winds.)* Lose one-quarter of discretionary funds





[ ] The Grace to Glory (Captained by the bastard knight Ser Donnal Storm, the Grace to Glory is set to stop at many small ports across Westeros that are often overlooked by the larger trading galleys. He is also willing to sail up the River Slayne, delivering you on House Grandison's doorstep. There is little space for passengers, however, so passage comes at a premium.)* Lose half of discretionary funds





[ ] The Striped Tiger (Captained by freed Volantene slave soldier Vimar Rohennis, the Striped Tiger means to ply its trade at Braavos and Pentos along with many other small ports before it is willing to drop you off at Stonehelm. Many of the captain's former comrades have joined him, however, meaning that this large war galley is quite well defended.)* Lose one-third of discretionary funds





You voice your opinion but your companions seem intent on continuing to bicker about it as the feast begins in earnest. Before you know it, the double doors of the great hall are opening once more and a litter bearing Lord Manderly is being carried in by four beleaguered guardsmen. As he entered, a herald began reading off his many titles. "Lord Wyman Manderly, Lord of White Harbor, Warden of the White Knife, Shield of the Faith, Defender of the Dispossessed, Lord Marshal of the Mander, and Knight of the Order of the Green Hand!" The other Manderlys followed not long behind him, with his son and heir, Ser Wylis, the man you saw talking to the Locke earlier, and his daughters, Wylla and another girl who is announced as Wynafryd. A shockingly lithe Manderly called Ser Wendel came next with Ser Marlon taking up the rear. Next, the Locke man in purple and white is revealed to be Ser Mallador Locke and the man takes his seat on the dais next to Lady Wynafryd. After that comes a flood of Woolfields who were obviously invited as well. Once the last Woolfield has entered the hall and sat on the dais, the herald looks around as if there are more nobles for him to announce but no more come through the doors.





With that, the great doors are closed and the side doors are opened. Lord Manderly motions for his guards to help him up. Wylla catches your attention by waving and frantically gesturing between you and the seat next to her. You…





[ ] Go up to the dais and take a seat. (You don't think Wylla would lead you wrong. If she's giving you the instruction with such fervor, you're likely meant to sit at the high table.)





[ ] Stay seated with your men. (Is she mad? You're a bastard. You belong at the lower tables. Lord Manderly would have given the word if he wanted you to sit among the nobles. Besides, these are the men that will be protecting you for the next moon at the least. You're a bit fond of them already and you think you can only grow closer after tonight's festivities.)





Skill experience gained!





Lute Lvl 3 (28/500XP) –> Lvl 3 (427/500)





Traits gained!





[Wolfblooded I] – You can be rowdy and brash and are used to roughhousing with friends and rivals alike. You prefer to take things head-on and take care to make sure people get what they deserve; By your hands if necessary. +2 Strength +1 Agility +1 Endurance -1 Cunning -1 Wisdom





Knowledge gained!





[History of House Manderly]* - You've read a thorough history on the former Marshals of the Mander and have a knowledge about it that Maester Luwin would be proud of. +10% to relation gains with House Manderly.





Relations altered!





Athen [Friend (5/100)] – He still thinks you can be a good playmate but he also thinks you can be a bit mean.





Wylla Manderly [Friend 27/100)] – She thinks you're a bit dashing and she wishes you had chosen to foster here after all.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choices you made last chapter:





[X] The Grace to Glory (Captained by the bastard knight Ser Donnal Storm, the Grace to Glory is set to stop at many small ports across Westeros that are often overlooked by the larger trading galleys. He is also willing to sail up the River Slayne, delivering you on House Grandison's doorstep. There is little space for passengers, however, so passage comes at a premium.)* Lose half of discretionary funds

[X] Stay seated with your men. (Is she mad? You're a bastard. You belong at the lower tables. Lord Manderly would have given the word if he wanted you to sit among the nobles. Besides, these are the men that will be protecting you for the next moon at the least. You're a bit fond of them already and you think you can only grow closer after tonight's festivities.)





You stay seated with your men while Wylla glowers at you up on the dais. The seat next to her remains empty. The great mass of Lord Manderly slowly shifts into a standing position as he prepares to announce the formal beginning of the feast. "Welcome, friends, Lords and Ladies, Goodmen and Goodwives. Today we celebrate the coming of spring and the glory of knighthood." Lord Wyman gestures to the Locke knight seated next to Lady Wynafryd. "Our honored guest Ser Mallador here has just started his journey north to become a brother of the Night's Watch. Tonight we induct him into the Order of the Green Hand to honor his commitment." A great cheer reverberates throughout the hall at that with many of the household knights and guards pounding their tankards. Lord Manderly looks about the hall first searching the dais before settling his eyes on your entourage in the far corner, reaching a hand out towards you. "Young Jon Snow, the natural-born son of our Lord Stark, is set to journey south and squire for a knight of the Stormlands. Make sure he and the Stark men with him feel welcome among us, won't you?" A smaller cheer goes through the hall at that and you feel Harwin clasping your shoulder and shaking you slightly in celebration. You stiffen at the unexpected acknowledgment, unsure of what's expected of you. However, before you can do much of anything, Lord Manderly spreads his stubby arms wide in one final gesture to the hall. "Now, let us feast!," he says, followed by a booming laugh.





Servants flood through the side doors carrying piles and piles of food. Whole roast pig, giant meat pies, roasted birds of many varieties, carafes of cream, bowls of soup, and trays of butter are presented but the queerest offerings are the seafood. You've only had salted fish from barrels before. Now, you see whole fishes the size of dogs with large fins being carried into the hall. Buckets of boiled crabs, lobsters, and all manner of shells are carried onto the lower tables along with plenty of wooden mallets. It looks like a recipe for disaster to you. At Winterfell, the feasts are typically divided into moderately sized courses. There seems to be no such temperance taken here. Guests are free to partake in what they wish anytime they like, with only the choicest dishes reserved for the high table, most of which you don't recognize. You see shellfish in a heavily spiced broth that turns everything red, piles of delicate little balls that Harwin knows to be fish eggs, and a large pie in the shape of a stylized fish. The fare at the lower tables is enough for you, however. You and your companions dig in with relish not having eaten since the morn. There's plenty of meat, mead, and ale to go around and you even find the seafood to be unobjectionable when taken with a bit of bread and butter.





The murmurs of the people coupled with the music of the bards make holding a conversation a challenging affair but you and your fellows manage it, exchanging stories and jokes as the hearth fires burn. After a great deal of bickering, you and Harwin eventually turn Donnis around to the idea of taking up with the Stormlander knight and Wyl has no choice but to go along with it, informing the rest of your group that you're set to leave on the morrow when the sun is at its peak. You're excited to get started on your journey and heartened by the success of this bastard knight. Perhaps he might be able to give you some advice on your own journey to knighthood. As the festivities of the night continue, you find yourself taking longer pulls of ale as you look over to the high table and Wylla. She's looking at Ser Mallador with admiration and appears to be asking him all manner of questions which he answers with practiced grace. Wylla's sister, Wynafryd, seems less than amused; A sentiment you share. You lift your tankard to your lips to find it empty once more, having filled it to the brim once or twice already. As you stand to remedy that a firm hand grabs you by the shoulder. You turn to see Harwin giving you a look of concern. "Don't you think you've had enough, lad?"





You shrug off his grip. "I'll have as much as I please, Harwin." You're not sure what came over you. You listen to Harwin and respect him. Before you can think about it too much you stumble your way back over to the cask and refill your drink. Donnis and Wyl along with most of the hall are deep into their cups, jeering and laughing at the smallest amusement. It's not often that you get to drink ale and, even then, you're not usually allowed more than two cups. There's probably a good reason for that, you think, if the behavior of some of your fellows is anything to go by. That thought doesn't stop you however as you continue to take long pulls from your tankard while the large benches are pushed to the side to make room for the dancers. First, professional dancers from Lys and Tyrosh enter the hall with their queer ways to entertain the guests. Their performance is graceful with their lithe bodies forming shapes that you perceive to be unnatural. After that, the floor is opened up to the guests with the nobility going first. It appears that Ser Mallador, despite talking with Wylla for the greater duration, is dancing with Lady Wynafryd while Wylla is pouting in her seat. You don't know why you care but you wish you were already a knight so that you could approach her without causing insult.





Donnis apparently notices your staring. "You looking at the fine ladies, Snow?"





You bristle at being caught even if you think you've done nothing wrong. You don't deny it, however, and only shrug your shoulders while taking another pull from your tankard.





Donnis smiles and raises his cup in cheer. "I'm taking a look-see at a few ladies of my own." He laughs and gestures to one of the serving girls. "Young, strapping lad like yourself could help me out a bit. What d'ya say?"





You barely remember what comes next but Donnis ends up leaving with that servant girl as the fires in the great hearth burn down to embers and guests begin to leave. You end up in the company of Wyl who apparently holds his ale quite well as he appears to be relatively alert. "You're looking a bit green around the gills, Jon."





You don't have gills. Fish do. After a few seconds, you realize that he means you look a bit sick. It barely registers before you puke on the table in front of you.





In the end, you have to be carried up to your room by Wyl, who doesn't seem to mind overmuch as he holds you piggy-back style up the stairs to the guest wing, following a helpful servant. If you remember this the next morning, you'll be embarrassed. You're eight-years-old after all...nearly a man grown. As soon as your body is placed on the bed, you fall into a deep sleep.





In the morning you wake up with a piercing headache and a deep queasiness in your belly. You don't know how you're going to manage it but you have to get on a ship today. You've heard tale of sea-sickness and you think today is not the day. Nevertheless, you get up and resolve to make the most out of the brief time you have before you have to set out to the docks. You decide to go to the…








[ ] Practice yard* (Pick two specializations)


-[ ] Bastard Sword


-[ ] Sword and Shield


-[ ] Archery





[ ] Library





[ ] Markets (Pick two destinations)


-[ ] Blacksmith


-[ ] Luthier


-[ ] Tanner


-[ ] Write-in





Character experience gained!





Lvl 4 (235/4000) –> Lvl 4 (335/4000)





Skill experience gained!





Drinking Lvl 1 (0/100) –> Lvl 2 (59/250)





Trait gained!





[Brooding II] – You know what it's like to be on the outside looking in all too well and you can be resentful even of the things you think you've come to accept. +20% to all XP gains, -2 Charisma, -5 general opinion.





Relations altered!





Wyl [Friend (10/100)] – He appreciated your company and you remind him a bit of his siblings back home.





Donnis [Friend (5/100)] – You were an adorable little wingman.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choices you made last chapter:


[X] Markets (Pick two destinations)

-[X] Luthier

-[X] Apothecary





Prying yourself out of bed, you put on your leathers, strap your lute to your back, and tuck your dagger in your belt. Despite being cleaned, your leathers still bear some of the smell from the stables yesterday and it makes your nose twitch and your stomach churn in protest. You're not feeling good at all. Despite your ill-feeling, you've considered several ways to start the day. You're itching to prove yourself in the practice yard but you're still wounded and the pounding in your head doesn't help matters either. You also considered spending some time finding the library and seeing if there were any rare books to read. However, you can barely concentrate on putting one foot in front of the other right now and you don't even want to think about reading the barely legible scribbles of the Maesters. After some deliberation, you decide to spend your morning scouring the markets for medical supplies and an artisan who may be able to repair your lute. You've heard there are remedies for the sickness you're experiencing right now and you really want to get your lute fixed. It's one of your most precious possessions and you'd be remiss if the damage couldn't be repaired.





You quickly pack your doublets and pants into your satchel, throwing the bag over your shoulder in preparation to leave. Exiting the guest wing and rushing down the stairs to the courtyard, you half expect to see Athen and Wylla on their way to get into more trouble one way or another. It brings a smile to your lips to think about it but you decide not to seek them out. You imagine Wylla might still be mad at you and some goodbyes are better left unsaid. You have no doubt that you will come through White Harbor again on the way to visit your family in Winterfell, however, so you may yet see her again.





As you approach the main gate, you see a large, stout building of white brick and mortar that you believe is the barracks. You feel terrible. So, you can imagine that your men might be feeling just the same. After rapping on the door to the barracks, you hear a shuffling of boots and the door opens to reveal a glowering heavyset man in sloppily attired Manderly armor who looks at you with beady eyes. "What'ya want?"





"I'm looking for Harwin, Donnis, and Wyl."





He narrows his eyes briefly at you before returning back inside and yelling, "Wyl!"





After some stumbling is heard from within, you see the ruddy face of Wyl peek through the door. "Be out in a bit, Jon!"





After presumably waiting for him to get dressed, he exits with his Stark brigandine on, sword on his belt, the group's satchel at his side, and bearing an exuberant smile. "You're going to like the ship, Jon. She's a beauty, that's for sure."





Although you are interested in the ship you'll be taking passage on, you're more concerned about the whereabouts of your companions. "Where are the others?"





"Harwin won a bit of coin arm wrestling in the barracks. He's at an Inn. The Dappled Mare, if I'm recalling correctly." Wyl looks bemused for a bit before breaking out into a laugh. "Donnis is likely wherever that serving girl is hanging her bonnet."





You hope you can find each other and not miss your ship. "How will we find them?"





Wyl shrugs "They know where the ship is. I reckon we can just meet them there."





Satisfied, you tell him about your plans for the morning. "Do we have time to stop at the markets? I want to look for someone to repair my lute and I've heard there might be cures to help with seasickness."





Wyl considers your request, tilting his head in thought. "Don't rightly know if I saw anybody that could help you with that but asking 'round can't hurt any. As for the medicine, I saw a couple of places that might have what you're looking for." He pats the satchel at his side. "Should have enough coin for what you need." Rummaging through the pack, he hands you a coin purse with half of the group's remaining funds.





With that, the two of you head out the main gate and down the long, winding path to the city proper below. Even though you've already seen the city's mass of people and activity, it doesn't fail to amaze you again. There's more people here than you've ever seen in your life all in one place. The concept is dizzying. There are vendors on every corner selling meat or fish on a stick with fresh bread. The smell alone tempts you to reach for your coin purse. Wyl notices your indecision and nudges you along. "Go on, Jon. It'll help you feel better."





Not needing any more encouragement, you purchase a greasy breakfast for yourself and Wyl. You savor the juicy meat on your tongue and gobble up the bread with enthusiasm. With your stomach feeling much more settled, you and Wyl make your way to some of the more established areas of the market, the ones in which artisans and merchants operate out of closely organized buildings instead of flimsy wooden stalls. After a few minutes of searching, you spot a lute-like instrument dangling where a sign of an inn would typically be. Going through the door under the sign, you see all manner of instruments lining the walls and a spindly old man working the desk, tinkering with a lute much like your own. You and Wyl approach the man. As he looks up from his work, you can see his many wrinkles form the expression of a frown. His countenance brightens a bit when he sees you coming towards him with your lute on your back. "How can I help you two folks?," he says.





You take the lute off your back and set it on the large wooden counter. "One of the strings broke. I was hoping you could fix it."





He sets aside the lute he was working on and picks up yours. Turning it this way and that, he looks it over, running his fingers over the carving of Jenny before finally settling his eyes on the broken string. "Shouldn't be too hard to affix a new string. This is fine work. Where did you get it?"





You shrug. "It was made by a man of the Night's Watch."





His eyes widen in surprise but he makes no further comment on it. "Well, it shouldn't take too long. Ten coppers should cover it."





You hand over the money, considering it to be well worth the price to have your lute back to full working order. While you're waiting for the Luthier to finish repairing your instrument, you browse his shop and a few items catch your eye. You purchase…. (You may choose more than one)





[ ] A leather strap for your lute (You're only using a rope to strap your lute to your back and you keep having to adjust it every few minutes. You think this strap would be quite an improvement. It's very intricate with tridents and seals embroidered on the outside and would fit your lute perfectly. +2 Charisma) Lose an eighth of remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] A small book filled with songs from the North (Many songs such as Brave Young Danny Flint, The Last of the Giants, and The Ballad of Bael the Bard are contained within. You know a bit of the tunes from feasts at Winterfell and now you could memorize the words too) Lose a quarter of remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] A small harp. (It's a small but delicate instrument, wooden but wrought with silver, swirling tendrils. It's finely tuned and makes a beautiful sound when you play it. You think it would make sad songs like Jenny's song sound even better. +5 Charisma) Lose one-half of the remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] Nothing. (None of the items on offer catch your eye and you decide to save the group's funds for something else.) Retain discretionary funds.


…





With your lute recently fixed, new string and all, and strapped to your back, you and Wyl go to the apothecary down the way, marked by a sign with a mortar and pestle on it. It surprises you a bit about how grand these merchant stores are. Their buildings are better made than some of the halls of Winterfell. The notion that the sole purpose of these buildings is to sell things out of them is puzzling to you.





Entering the apothecary, you smell all manner of herbs and pickling liquids and see hundreds of small jars lining the shelves around the small store. A woman is writing in a book of sorts but looks up when the bell on the door jingles. She apparently runs the shop and she's very helpful, making sure you get the right remedies for the sickness you anticipate. With her advice, you get a bit of ginger root for seasickness and even though you're still feeling a bit off from your drinking last night, you don't feel the need to spend money on a cure. You were even less enthusiastic when you smelled it. In the end, in addition to the ginger root, you decide to purchase... (You may choose more than one)





[ ] A set of linen bandages for you and your men. (The bits of cloth you have on your wounds will need changing soon and it would be useful to stave off any festering.) Lose one-eighth of remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] A jar of wound poultice. (Maester Theomore was supposed to supply Donnis with enough of the garlic and bird shit to finish cleaning out his wound but it's likely only enough for him and Harwin's wound is still a serious problem that could turn sour on the open sea.) Lose one-fourth of remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] A healer's kit. (The kit is commonly sold to ship captains if they have a dedicated physician on board. It contains everything from fever remedies to the grim tools needed to scour festering wounds and amputate limbs. Its contents could be life-saving but it would put a sizable dent in your funds.) Lose one-half of the remaining discretionary funds.





[ ] Nothing more. (You feel that seasickness is the only thing that you truly need to prepare for.)





…





After your trip to the apothecary, Wyl points out the ship to you at the docks and it's quite unmistakable. It's Ironborn in make. You're sure of it. It's made in the fashion of a longboat with only a single set of oars and one mast and sail. However, it looks like it's been modified to have at least two decks. The most prominent feature of the ship is its prow and stern being adorned with large and elaborate wooden carvings of dragons in white and red. It's hard to tell with the sail tucked into the mast, but you believe it to be white and red as well. As you and Wyl approach the Grace to Glory, you see Harwin and Donnis talking to a tall, broad man with a magnificent beard. You call it magnificent because it's almost as big and bushy as the Greatjon's but red instead of brown. In fact, if you had to describe the man, you'd say that he was the Red. He wears a red doublet and trousers with white piping. His hair is also shockingly red, cleanly cut on the top but with bushy mutton chops in addition to his beard. You can hear his barking laugh from a great distance as he finds amusement in something your companions say.





As you approach, you ask Wyl, "What have you to say about this Ser Donnal?"





Wyl considers your question before answering in a few paces, "Fine fellow. Bastard of Lord Staedmon and was knighted during the Greyjoy Rebellion, taking the ship as his prize…" He pauses as if questioning what he knows. "…Anyway, that's what he told me. You won't see many other Ironborn longships this far north on the Narrow Sea, that I can tell ya."





Nodding, you approach along with Wyl to meet with your companions and this Ser Donnal. Harwin is the first to spot you, raising his hand in greeting. Donnis soon follows his example and Ser Donnal turns his gaze to you as well. "Wyl! Is this the Jon Snow I've been hearing about?"





Wyl grabs you by the shoulder. "Aye, it is! Say hello, Jon."





You bristle at being talked down to but you remember your courtesies nevertheless. "Hello, Ser. I'm told you won great fame in the Greyjoy Rebellion. It will be an honor to travel in your company."





Ser Donnal lets out a barking laugh once more. "I haven't had the honor of meeting your father but it's a great joy of mine to meet his son, bastard or no." He walks towards you and grips your hand firmly as you meet his blue eyes. "I'm sure you'll make for a fine knight someday."





With that, the five of you board the ship and are introduced to the rest of the crew. Ser Donnal's squire, Donovan, is a wiry and pale boy of three and ten with messy black hair. The cook, Erwin, is quite fat and hobbles around the deck, impaired by his girth. Harwin says that's a good sign for the quality of the food but you're not convinced. The rest of the crew is a mix of Stormlanders and Valemen of lesser birth, most of which are already busy making preparations to set sail. You observe the city of White Harbor once more, with its tall white buildings and the dome of the Sept of the Snows shining in the noon sun. You glance at the majestic New Castle wondering if you'll ever return. Of course, you will, you assure yourself. You would have to travel up the Kingsroad and through the Neck by horse if you wanted to return another way and you're not sure you would feel the desire to. As the ship breaks away from the harbor amidst dozens of others, it has to wait its turn to exit the great protective barrier, fashioned in the same white brick as the rest of the city and protected by the Seal Gate, the statue of that queer dog-like sea creature jutting out of the rushing waves. All of your men look on in some degree of wonder, having, just as you, not been beyond Northern borders. As you look at the great horizon beyond, you are struck by the sense that your life will never be the same.





Pick two activities for the next cycle.





[ ] Interact with (pick two)





-[ ] Harwin


-[ ] Donnis


-[ ] Wyl


-[ ] Ser Donnal


-[ ] Donovan


-[ ] The Crew





[ ]Combat training (pick two specializations)*


-[ ] Bastard Sword


-[ ] Sword and Shield


-[ ] Unharmed and Dagger





[ ] Practice the lute (pick one)


-[ ] Learn the Song of the Seven


-[ ] Learn the Mother's Hymn


-[ ] Perfect Jenny's Song (max Charisma bonus when played)





[ ] Practice the harp** (pick one)

-[ ] Basic notes





*Archery is unavailable because practicing archery on a ship is unpractical on so many levels.


** Only available if the harp is purchased





Character experience gained!





Lvl 4 (335/4000) –> Lvl 4 (435/4000)





Skill experience gained!





Bartering Lvl 1 –> Lvl 2 (123/250)





Relations altered!





Wyl [Friend (15/100)] – You were good company at the markets today.




Items altered!


[Jenny] – A lute given to you by Mance Rayder, you think it gives it gives each song you sing with it a little more weight. +2 Charisma.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Plan you picked:





[X] Plan Musical Voyage
-[X] A leather strap for your lute (You're only using a rope to strap your lute to your back and you keep having to adjust it every few minutes. You think this strap would be quite an improvement. It's very intricate with tridents and seals embroidered on the outside and would fit your lute perfectly. +2 Charisma) Lose an eighth of remaining discretionary funds.
-[X] A small book filled with songs from the North (Many songs such as Brave Young Danny Flint, The Last of the Giants, and The Ballad of Bael the Bard are contained within. You know a bit of the tunes from feasts at Winterfell and now you could memorize the words too.) Lose a quarter of remaining discretionary funds.
-[X] A set of linen bandages for you and your men. (The bits of cloth you have on your wounds will need changing soon and it would be useful to stave off any festering.) Lose one-eighth of remaining discretionary funds.
-[X] A jar of wound poultice. (Maester Theomore was supposed to supply Donnis with enough of the garlic and bird shit to finish cleaning out his wound but it's likely only enough for him and Harwin's wound is still a serious problem that could turn sour on the open sea. Lose one-fourth of remaining discretionary funds.
-[X] Interact with (pick two)
--[X] Ser Donnal
--[X] Donovan
-[X] Practice the lute (pick one)
--[X] Perfect Jenny's Song (max Charisma bonus when played)





It's been five days since you set out from White Harbor and you've already traversed the Bite, bypassing the three sisters and the Sistermen merchants. When you asked Ser Donnal why you weren't stopping to trade at the Three Sisters despite hugging the coast of the islands, he replied, "If you deal with the Sistermen, it would be best to cut your own throat simply to save time." The journey has been arduous so far with choppy seas and constant rain. The wind coming in from the Shivering Sea to the Northeast sends a deep chill through your bones and constantly threatens to blow the ship off course and into the cliffs of the Vale coast. The wind works against the ship so that the rowers have to work double shifts, pushing the Grace to Glory forward. You help out where you can, tightening knots and taking a short shift on the oars. Your men are not complacent and pitch in where they can as well.





The Grace to Glory makes a brief stop at Pebble Peak, the seat of House Pryor, to shore up on provisions and ride out a storm but you and your men feel no need to brave the rainstorm to visit the small keep and village onshore. In a day or so, however, the weather had improved and you were navigating the deck with some degree of confidence, having gotten your sea legs. At first, you entertain the crew with your rendition of Jenny's Song but after many repetitions, the tune grows stale, and soon many were begging you to stop. You must have performed the song at least a hundred times but you don't think you could ever forget the notes on your lute. As the crew rows its way around the crest of the First Finger, the winds are beginning to blow in your favor, sending you towards the mouth of the River Coldwater to the town and keep of Coldwater Bay, the seat of House Coldwater. You hear footsteps behind you and a firm hand grasps your shoulder. "This is one of my favorite stops, Jon." Ser Donnal says, shaking you a bit side to side. "The Lord here sure does like his tourneys and with the coming of spring, there might just be one in the works."





Ser Donnal's assumption proves correct because when you dock, the small town is abuzz with news of the minor tourney that's being organized by Lord Coldwater to celebrate the great thaw of the river and it's only happening in two days. Ser Donnal decides to stay for that period, calling upon the services of his squire, Donovan, to assist him in this endeavor. Observing the lists, you count landed knights and some members of the Houses Hersy, Lynderly, and Elesham among the competitors but there's also a gaggle of hedge knights and free riders in the competition. You tag along with Wyl beside you. Harwin and Donnis aren't feeling so well. They couldn't wait to rest on solid ground and you resolve to find them later at the local inn. As you walk beside Donovan, he nudges at your side. "You're a bit too small for the squire's melee but I reckon you'd be able to enter the archery contest." Thinking over his words you decide to…





[ ] Enter the archery contest (You may not be as good as Greyjoy, but you think you can best this smattering of peasants and hedge knight squires.)





[ ] Spend the time elsewhere. (pick one)


-[ ] Playing your lute. (pick one option)


--[ ] Learn The Song of the Seven


--[ ] Learn The Mother's Hymn


--[ ] Learn The Sad Lament of Brave Young Danny Flint


--[ ] Learn The Last of the Giants


--[ ] Learn The Ballad of Bael the Bard


--[ ] Learn The Bear and the Maiden Fair


-[ ] Combat Practice (pick two specializations)


--[ ] Bastard Sword


--[ ] Sword and Shield


--[ ] Unharmed and Dagger





Character experience gained!





Lvl 4 (435/4000XP) –> Lvl 4 (935/4000XP)





Skill experience gained!





Lute Lvl 3 (427/500XP) –> Lvl 4 (112/1000XP)




Relations altered!





Ser Donnal Storm [Friend (5/100)] -You've helped out where you could and you and your men have been a decent addition to his crew.





Donovan [Friend (5/100)] – It's good to have someone his age on board even if you're a bit younger.





Item altered!





[Jenny] – A lute given to you by Mance Rayder, you think it gives each song you sing with it a little more weight. +4 Charisma.





Debuff removed!





[Minor arm wound] – -1 Strength, -10% HP, -25% to combat rolls, heals in two weeks, small chance to fester without competent medical attention.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choice you made last chapter:





[X] Enter the archery contest (You may not be as good as Greyjoy, but you think you can best this smattering of peasants and hedge knight squires.)





Resolving to enter this archery contest, you glance back to Donovan. "I think I just might." As you progress further through the small but vibrant village, leaving the ramshackle docks behind, you see the small but stalwart stone keep on a hill looking over the center of town. The outer walls are located around the village proper with further defenses up on the hill. As you look through the north gate, you find that the tourney grounds are located outside the walls in an open field on the bank of the rushing waters of the River Coldwater. The grounds had clearly been plowed in the center and the dirt padded down to allow for the jousting lists. The stands were small but covered in the heraldry and colors of the local nobility: the red and blue of House Coldwater, the black and green of House Lynderly, the silver and pink of House Hersy, and pink and black of House Elesham. There was also a lot of room for the common folk to observe the spectacle, with open fields on all sides. You can see the archery targets lined up in one of these fields alongside a great pen that you assume is for the melee. The mountains to the northwest are visible in the distance, making the site quite a picturesque place to compete. As you continue admiring the grounds Donovan drives an elbow into your side, causing you to wince. "Come on, Jon. The tourney's not for two days yet. Let's meet the others at the tavern."





Rubbing your tender side, you acquiesce. "Fine." Looking back up at Donovan while you walk, you ask, "Aren't you the least bit excited for the tourney?"





He laughs. "Of course I am but I'm sure we'll be seeing nothing but the tourney grounds soon enough."





With that you both enter the inn at the center of town, the Brown Fox, and search for your company. The air is thick with smoke from the cooking fires and the smell of the rich food makes your mouth water after a week of only weak fish stew to fill your belly. All manner of folk are present, coming in for the tourney. Men in rich doublets sit with their supposed squires while minstrels and bards compete for attention and coin. There also appears to be a shady character taking bets on the tourney in a far corner. You spot Harwin and Donnis in their Stark leathers and Ser Donnal in his red arming doublet at another corner table, drinking ale and making merry at one of the bards' songs. You recognize it as The Bear and the Maiden Fair. You don't know where the rest of the crew has gotten to but you did see another inn closer to the docks. They could be there. Ser Donnal notices you first and beckons the three of you to the table. "Donovan! Jon! Wyl! Come pull up a stool."





Donnis claps you on the shoulder as you take a seat. "See the tourney grounds, Jon?"





"Aye. Are you going to enter any of the events?"





He shrugs. "I might've entered the archery event if I wasn't injured. Wyl is a fine swordsman though. He may enter the melee."





Wyl preens in pride at that but Harwin shakes his head. "That's just what we need right now. Two of us are wounded. None of us have any plate except for our helmets. These are knights of the Vale you'd be going up against. It's just not smart, Wyl."





Wyl looks a bit dejected but agrees. "I'm not keen on getting brained by some Southron knight. Suppose I'll just watch."





Ser Donnal nudges Wyl and affects an air of arrogant pride. "Then you'll get to see me win that melee. Nothing but green boys and summer knights in this tourney. Haven't seen a lick of true battle. Not like the Ironborn. Now those were men..."





Donovan looks to his master, interrupting his reminiscing. "Do you reckon I should enter the squire's melee then?"





Ser Donnal nods but looks a tad morose. "You stand a decent chance. There'll be older squires though with better equipment." Ser Donnal, despite his bluster, didn't appear to be a particularly wealthy knight. You had seen his armor while Donovan was cleaning it and it was a mismatched set of mostly cobbled together iron plates. A hedge knight's suit of armor if you've ever seen it. Ser Donnal turns to you, giving you a small smile. "What about you, Jon?"





You straighten up and try to look serious. "I'm going to be entering the squire's archery if I can."





Ser Donnal's smile grows wider. "Course you can. They even allow peasant boys to try their hand at it here. It's mostly the Reach with all the rules…"





Ser Donnal continues to tell you all about his experiences with tourneys as the food arrives and you begin to eat. There's salmon with mustard seed and onion served with a loaf of dark, hearty bread. Your favorite dish though is the large roasted mushrooms in a tasty gravy. The night goes by swiftly with the six of you exchanging stories and jokes as the cook fires burn down to embers and Harwin shuffles you off to your room.





The next day is spent in preparation for the tournament with Donnis giving you tips on proper archery form as you practice on the targets at the tourney grounds. You spar a bit with Donovan as well to help him prepare for the melee but with your eight-year-old stature, he beats you too easily to be much help. As you practice your archery you can see Ser Donnal and Donovan sparring and Donovan looks to be a good student, scoring a few hits on the bastard knight but you can clearly see that Ser Donnal is playing with him, not taking the spar seriously. Later, Ser Donovan tells you that he purchased a horse and is going to enter the joust. He asks that you assist Donovan in getting his equipment prepared and ready both before and during the joust. You agree, not having much else to do. The jousting event is, of course, far after the squire's archery. Ser Donnal then spends much of the day going at the quintain with his new horse. There are a few humorously bad tilts in the beginning but man and stallion soon find an accord and you can only look on in wonder as you watch the bastard knight and his beast work in perfect harmony. As the sun sets, it remains a display of skill that only a knight in a pink and silver cloak matches.





The morning of the tournament comes all too quickly for your taste and as you get out of bed and strap on your leathers and furs, you wonder what sort of competition you'll face. You knew many of the visiting squires by sight, you just didn't know how many of them would participate in the archery competition. Along with Ser Donnal and Donovan, you depart to the tourney grounds to get an early start on the day. Ser Donnal passes muster with little difficulty, being one of only eight knights to turn out for the tourney, two being Lord Coldwater's sons. The other riders in the joust were hedge knights and free riders of various stripes. Donovan's approval was tied to Ser Donnal's, so he was in. As you approach the tourney official seated at his desk, he observes you and your Stark leathers with a raised eyebrow. "A Stark?"





You shake your head. "No, Ser. My name is Jon Snow."





"Lord Stark's bastard then?", he asks.





Gritting your teeth, you respond, "Aye."





Noting your ire, the man explains, "Don't worry, lad. Most of them squires don't have a lick of noble blood in 'em." He looks you over once more. "How old are you, ten? You look too young for the melee, son."





You nod. "I'm eight and yes, I know. That's why I just want to enter the archery competition."





He nods and writes your name and age down on the list, ushering you through to the tents set aside for the competitors' use. You catch up with Ser Donnal and Donovan as they began putting on Ser Donnal's armor for the melee in a private tent. Donovan is already wearing a red gambeson with a plate chest piece, pauldrons, and vambraces. The event won't be for while yet but it would do Ser Donnal good to get accustomed to the weight for an hour or so. He looks every inch the hedge knight with his mismatched iron and steel plates and his dented and slightly rusted greathelm forged in black steel. His shield bears the Staedmon colors but reversed with a white heart pierced by a white dagger on a red field with a white wavy border. He wears a threadbare red cloak over his shoulders with white trim. "I'll be in the practice yard, lads. Got to stretch out my sword arm a bit." At Donovan's crestfallen expression, Ser Donnal adds, "Don't worry, I'll be back in time to watch you and the little one." With that he exits the tent, his cloak swishing in a gust of wind behind him, leaving you a bit sour at being called 'little one'. You and Donovan look over your bows one final time before the competition. You've borrowed yours from Donnis. It's a bit big for you but you tested it out yesterday and it was serviceable enough.





As you exit the tent, you see that most of the other competitors are out on the archery field, some practicing their form, others simply waiting for the event to begin. It's a motley group, some in fine arming doublets and leathers, others in plain tunics. As you approach, you see a squire in the pink and silver of House Hersy facing off against a squire in Coldwater colors, both of them trying to best the other in getting closer to the bullseye at fifty paces. Most of the squires are watching but some are trying their hand at the other targets. By the time you make it over to the gaggle of squires, a herald has arrived in red and blue finery and a plumed cap. He stands at the center of the lists and faces the small stands where the nobility are seated. He announces the start of the tournament and directs the crowd's attention to the archery field, where you've been instructed to line up for a preliminary round to try and hit the archery target set at ten paces.





Clearly meant to separate the true competitors from the hopeful rabble, most of the boys before you pass with little fanfare but a few peasant boys and one squire about your age have visible trouble nocking their arrows and their shots fly wide. Before you know it, it's your turn. Taking a deep breath, you pull back the string against your lips waiting for the right moment. As you release, you can't help but twitch to your right causing your arrow to only pierce the outer edge of the target. Cursing your rotten luck, you're surprised to find that it was good enough to get you to the next round. It's a comfort to you to see that Donovan doesn't fare much better, hitting the edge of the target as well. The next target is at five and twenty paces and you can feel the eyes of the other squires on you, expecting you to fail. Your resolve allows you to nock, draw, and loose in one fluid motion, hitting one of the middle rings of the target. Donovan nods to you in approval as he takes his spot behind the firing line. He hits the target in almost the same spot as you and also advances to the next round.





The most impressive on your fellows thus far is without a doubt the squire in pink and silver. He hits all of his targets dead center. You nudge Donovan. "Do you know who he is?"





Donovan shakes his head. "No, but I know he squires for the Hersy knight. The one who rode so well yesterday."





Nodding in response, you watch as the Hersy squire hits the target at fifty paces with the same degree of skill he displayed at the ten and the five and twenty pace marks. Fewer of the other competitors can even hit the target at this distance and the field thins to twelve, not including you and Donovan, with the both of you having yet to go. You go first, carefully going through the motions and letting your arrow fly. You send a quick prayer to the Old Gods as it flies through the air and you feel relief mixed with frustration as the arrow finds its mark at the outermost ring. You hear a sharp laugh followed by a "Lucky bastard." behind you, making you grit your teeth in shame. You should be better than this. Also, you want to punch whoever said that in the face. Turning back around, you see a smug face wearing black and green and you know instantly that it was the Lynderly squire. You give him a glare but say nothing as you get back in line.





Donovan is up next and although his form looks to be solid, he jerks to the left at the last moment, causing his shot to go wide of the target. He walks over to his master in the crowd, looking dejected. At that, you resolve to do your best to represent your party. The target is now pulled back to one hundred paces and your nerves begin to rise. The Hersy squire hits almost dead center once again to the amazement of the crowd and you feel a vindictive glee when the Lynderly squire's shot veers far to the right. Now it's your turn. You set your left foot on the firing line, feeling a brisk breeze ruffle your hair. Trying to take into account the wind to the best of your ability, you nock, draw, and loose with practiced swiftness. You very nearly pump your fist in triumph when your arrow hits near the center of the target. Now there are only five of you left, with you joining a peasant boy in brown, the Hersy squire, the Coldwater squire, and a boy in pink and black who you believe is representing House Elesham.





The target remains at one hundred paces now only with distance from the center being taken into account. The Hersy squire goes first, hitting the edge of the bullseye with a visible grin. The Coldwater boy goes next and hits the edge of the target, cursing the whole way back to the line. The squire in pink and black misses entirely and the peasant boy in brown hits the bullseye with practiced ease. When it's your turn, you go through the same motions as before, eyeing the target with nervous anticipation. As you release your arrow, you immediately know something's wrong and your suspicions are confirmed when you spot your arrow going well over the target, landing somewhere behind it. You hear the sharp laugh of the Lynderly squire somewhere behind you and it makes your failure all the more bitter. You resolve to…





[ ] Practice all you can with the bow. (You may never be as good as Greyjoy but you can try.) *Locks in one archery training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% archery XP.





[ ] Keep your options open. (You're much better with the sword than the bow and you prefer to get up close and personal with your opponents.) *No immediate effects.








Exiting the field, you find your companions in the shifting crowd. Ser Donnal greets you with a raised gauntlet. "Not bad, Jon. Not bad both of you." He pats Donovan on the shoulder as you all watch the peasant boy in brown beat the remaining squires to win the archery competition. The three of you then head towards the melee pen. The grass has been upturned but there hadn't been any rain in the last few days, leaving the melee field nice and dry for the battle. Most of the smallfolk were gathered around to watch the squires take a swing at each other and you imagine that the view from the stands wouldn't be bad either. You and Ser Donnal wish Donovan good luck as the remaining squires strap on their armor and enter the pen. The peasant boy in brown may have won the archery contest but he likely didn't have the armament for the melee, so you didn't see him here. The Herald begins announcing the competitors and you find out that the Hersy squire is a Hersy himself. Edwyle Hersy to be precise. The Lynderly squire in black steel armor is next and he's announced as Armit Pryor. You can't help but think that he looks unreasonably smug as if he's already won. There's a smattering of other nobility along with quite a few hedge knight squires in mismatched armor. Judging by what you've seen so far, Donovan has a fair chance, you think.





You are soon proven wrong. Despite the cheering of yourself and Ser Donnal for the lowborn squire, he finds himself on the ground within minutes, looking down the tip of Armit Pryor's blade. The Lynderly squire would go on to win the squire's melee, besting most of the competitors of note in the process. He possesses a level of skill that you could only hope to match and despite your antipathy for him, you have to admit that you want to emulate his swordcraft. You and Ser Donnal look over Donovan for any wounds but the only thing that seems to injured is his pride. Next was the melee proper and Ser Donnal fared little better than his squire, being bested halfway through by Edwyle Hersy's master, Ser Jonothor Hersy. The Hersy knight was like something out of a song, his silver armor remaining unmarred throughout the bout. He bested all comers, even defeating the two Coldwater brothers at once. When he defeated his last opponent, an Arwald of the Hills, it was a duel for the ages. Or at least it seemed as such to you, not having seen a tourney before today. The hedge knight, bearing two grey mountains upon black on his shield, sparred with the bearer of the winged goblet of House Hersy. The two went back and forth, trading blow for blow before the bout was decided by the aggressive footwork of Ser Jonothor, tripping Arwald and forcing him to yield. The victory won great applause from the audience and you clapped along with them, admiring the skill of the competitors. One day, you can imagine yourself among them winning great renown with your skill with a sword. You resolve to…





[ ] Spend all the time that you can practicing the sword. (Someday you want to be the one being cheered by an adoring crowd as you put all of your opponents into the dirt.) *Locks in one sword training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% sword training XP.





[ ] Keep your options open. (You'll have plenty of time to learn various modes of combat, besides there's your book learning and music practice to consider as well.) *No immediate effects





Next came the joust with Ser Donnal first facing off against the very same Arwald of the Hills that fared so well in the melee. Donovan hands Ser Donnal his first lance as he comes around to the start of the lists on horseback. "Wish me luck, lads!" he says before taking off along the fence separating the jousters.





The first pass is brutal, with both men breaking lances on each other's gorgets. Miraculously, both men stay on their horses, although Ser Donnal rides back with a sizable dent in his armor. You hand him a waterskin, which he takes and drinks out of with relish. He spends a few seconds looking down at his gorget. "Nothing a hammer can't fix," he says, gesturing for his next lance. You try to hand him his lance but it's heavy and awkward and Donovan ends up helping you get it up to the bastard knight. Ser Donnal takes it with a smile and kicks his heels, causing the horse to turn and head back to the lists. The two horses kick up topsoil as they gallop towards each other at speed. Ser Donnal hits the free-rider in the chest, breaking his lance, while Arwald's lance barely grazes his shield and remains intact. The crowd cheers in appreciation and Ser Donnal gives a jaunty wave back. You can't see under his greathelm but you imagine him to be wearing a smile as he says, "Another lance, boys!"





You obey but it turns out not to be needed as Arwald's squire, the peasant boy in brown, comes over to your side of the lists to tell you that his master is wounded and cannot continue. Ser Donnal accepts Arwald of the Hills' withdrawal with grace, accepting a meager ransom in exchange for not taking the man's horse and armor. In recognition of his victory in the first tilt, Ser Donnal and his squire are invited to sit up in the stands to watch the other competitors. You, however, are not. As they leave, the knight hands you a few copper pennies. "Thanks for your help, Jon. Go get yourself something to eat and enjoy the tourney."





You give your thanks and follow his instructions, purchasing a flaky and buttery roll from one of the many food vendors dispersed around the tourney grounds. You then push your way through the crowd, eventually settling in a crouch at the front of the crowd of smallfolk. You clutch onto the bottom rung of the fence next to the lists, anxiously awaiting the arrival of the next competitors. You see Ser Jonothor Hersy facing off against a young man in Coldwater colors, who the herald announces as Ser Rodrik Coldwater, one of the two sons of Lord Coldwater. Ser Jonothor is a picture of grace and true form as he and his destrier work as one. The bout is quick, with Ser Jonothor unhorsing the Coldwater scion on the first tilt. The other bouts are usually just as quick with free riders falling to knights of all stripes. You see Harwin, Donnis, and Wyl in the crowd looking on with interest but before you can go and greet them, Ser Donnal and Donovan are exiting the stands and beckoning you back to the bastard knight's tent.





As you and Donovan help Ser Donnal don his armor once more, he speaks to Donovan. "The competition will be getting more fierce now. Do you remember what you should do if I fall?"





Donovan tilts his head in consideration. "Offer the horse and a ransom but not the armor."





Ser Donnal nods. "Good lad. Was hard to replace after last time."





You can't help but ask, "Last time?"





The bastard knight smiles. "Can't win every time, boy. You lose more often than not, such is the way of things. You can only hope that you lose to a gracious winner."





With that, you finish putting on Ser Donnal's armor and see him on his horse. The herald announces his opponent as Ser Lewin of the Paps, a hedge knight that's unhorsed a few free-riders so far in this tourney. Ser Donnal calls for his lance then takes off at a gallop, full of determination. He breaks his lance against Ser Lewin's shield, causing the hedge knight to lose his balance and fall from his horse. It gains a meager cheer from the crowd who were likely expecting more of a spectacle. You end up leading Ser Lewin's horse back over to Ser Donnal, who accepts this in lieu of both armor and horse. The bastard knight would have to sell both horses before setting sail once more but any source of coin was welcome and he might use them as ransom in case he loses.





A few more bouts occur with Ser Karwen Lynderly, in his gleaming black steel, distinguishing himself as a true contender, reaching the semifinals along with Ser Donnal Storm, Ser Jonothor Hersy, and Ser Gerold Elesham. You're excited that your host and friend has done so well and he's set to face Ser Karwen next. The Lynderly knight is of a size with Ser Donnal, so you think his armor would make for a fine prize for the knight captain. This time, you successfully lift the lance to Ser Donnal's awaiting hand and he takes off down the lists. You feel your heart jump into your throat as Ser Karwen strikes true, breaking his lance against Ser Donnal's chest. He barely holds on to his horse, and as he trots back to you and Donovan, you can see him wincing in pain and holding on to his side, a new dent in his armor. Taking off his helmet and wheezing, he says. "What are you looking at? Get me some water!" Donovan obliges and Ser Donnal takes a few solid pulls from the skin before re-donning his helm and hefting his lance once more with a grim determination. From this distance you can see the Lynderly knight's squire, Armit Pryor, handing him a new lance. You can't see Ser Karwen's expression under his helm but his squire gives his sharp laugh at something he said. Gritting your teeth in distaste, you give a firm rub to the rump of Ser Donnal's horse for luck as he trots off for another pass.





You couldn't have imagined it any better. This time, Ser Donnal is the one who strikes true, sending the knight of the snakes flying off his horse. The smallfolk give a great cheer as Ser Karwen tumbles to the ground. The cheers only grow louder when Ser Donnal dismounts to help the other knight to his feet. The Stormlander accepts the armor as ransom, refusing the horse. The black steel greathelm is much the same design as Ser Donnal's old one but with a black and green plume that has to be traded out for the bastard knight's red and white. You and Donovan help get his new armor fitted for his next bout against Ser Jonothor Hersy and when you're done, Ser Donnal looks as true a knight as any on the field.





For the final match, both contenders ride out to the front of the stands, where Lord Coldwater gives a short but ultimately boring speech about the virtues of the Seven and knightly chivalry and how the two knights before him exemplify them. With that done, Ser Donnal returns to your side of the lists, donning his now red and white plumed helm and taking a lance from Donovan. He says nothing, only giving you and Donovan a firm nod before he drives his stallion forth across the dusty lists. Black meets silver as the collision between the two knights creates a loud din that's only overpowered by the roar of the crowd. Both knights break their lances on each other's shields, causing them both to reel back in their saddles but they both manage to stay ahorse. As Ser Donnal comes back to your side of the lists, Donovan hands him another lance and then he's off again. The two knights meet again with the results being much the same as the last tilt. They break lances against each other again, barely staying ahorse, and the crowd goes wild, cheering and waving their banners.





Ser Donnal returns for his final pass, taking up yet another lance; His last. Donovan looks up at the bastard knight. "Go knock him off his horse, Ser."





Ser Donnal nods. "I shall." His confident voice sounds even firmer through the grates of his helm and you watch him trot off, confident in his success.





This time, Ser Donnal strikes the silver knight in the chest, breaking his lance, while Ser Jonothor misses completely and is thrown off balance by Ser Donnal's solid hit. The crowd lets out a huge cheer as Ser Jonothor is sent tumbling to the ground. However, their cheers soon turn into laughter as Ser Jonothor's foot gets caught in the stirrup and his horse pulls him along to the end of the lists. You heard his screams though and you feel less prone to mirth once it's confirmed that his leg is broken. In light of his victory and Ser Jonothor's injury, Ser Donnal chooses not to accept a ransom and allows the silver knight to keep his horse and armor. With great fanfare, the bastard knight is presented with the grand prize of one hundred gold dragons and a wreath of flowers to present to a fair maiden of his choice and crown the queen of love and beauty. He picks the prettiest of Lord Coldwater's daughters, presenting her the wreath of red roses at the tip of his red and white lance.





After witnessing the spectacle of the joust, you resolve to...





[ ] Devote as much time as you can to learn how to ride a horse and strike a target with a lance. (You want to be just like Ser Donnal someday, winning tourneys and crowning fair maidens. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll get to crown Sansa. She would love that, you think.) *Locks in one riding and jousting training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% Jousting training XP.





[ ] Keep your options open. (Jousting seems to be a big spectacle and nothing more. When real combat occurs, you'll count on your sword arm to carry you through.) *No immediate effects.





As you help Ser Donnal pack up his things, he hands you and Donovan a bit of coin. Two gold dragons for Donovan and one for you. Seeing your bewilderment at his generosity, he walks over to you and grips you by the shoulder. "Do you know what they call my father, Jon?"





You can't say you know much about Lord Staedmon, let alone any monikers of his. "No, Ser."





He has a grimace on his face. "'Pennylover' they call him. Do you know why that is?"





You shrug. "He loves money?"





Ser Donnal gives a bitter laugh. "Aye, and he's cheaper than a flea bottom whore. It's made him few friends." He shakes his head. "Money comes and goes. It's best not to grip it too tightly."





You…





[ ] Agree. (Gold is often fleeting, you think. Friends are far more valuable.)





[ ] Disagree (A penniless man has few friends. Friends can come and go. The coin in your purse is far firmer ground to stand on.)





You and your companions go your separate ways after that, promising to find your own way back to the ship. You once again end up in the company of Wyl, observing the night performers with their queer dances juggling flaming torches. That entertains you for a while but out of the corner of your eye, you spot that free-rider squire in brown, the one who won the archery contest. He's being cornered by two other squires near the melee pen. You find yourself walking towards them in the darkness, sensing something off and Wyl follows behind you. As you get closer, you can hear them talking and recognize the two squires as Armit Pryor and Edwyle Hersy.





"Where'd you put all that coin, peasant?," asks Hersy, with Pryor backing him up.





The Lynderly squire pokes the peasant boy in the chest."Do you even have any place to put it?"





The boy begins to back away. "Leave me alone!"





Hersy continues to mock the boy in brown."He probably has to spend it all putting his master to rights after the bastard stuck him like a pig." That sets off a fit of laughter from the both of them.





The boy tries to back off further and get away but Pryor shoves him to the ground."Hey, where are you going? We're not done with you yet." He bears a mean smirk on his face. "It's a shame you didn't join the melee."





As your blood begins to boil at this injustice, Wyl grabs you by the shoulder. "C'mon. Let's go, Jon." You…





[ ] Shrug his hand off your shoulder and rush in. (They may be bigger than you and stronger than you but you're not going to pretend that this isn't happening in front of your very eyes. Besides, Wyl may piss and moan, but he'll back you up if things go sour. You hope.)





[ ] Try to approach this diplomatically. (You know you can't beat them in a fair fight if Armit Pryor's performance in the melee is any indication. Hopefully, they won't continue their bullying if there are too many witnesses and if things come to blows, at least you can say you tried.)





[ ] Go along with Wyl and return to the others. (It goes against every fiber of your being but if you wanted to, you could simply wash your hands of it, moving on and leaving that peasant boy to his fate. Spend 2 FS)*





Character experience gained!





Lvl 4 (935/4000) –> Lvl 4 (1435/4000)





Combat skill experience gained!





Archery Lvl 3 (180/500XP) –> Lvl 4 (120/1000XP)





Item gained!





[Gold Dragon] – A gift from Ser Donnal. The highest denomination in Westeros and worth 210 Silver Stags, you don't know where you could possibly spend it or who would have change for such an amount. It could come in handy later, however.




Relations altered!

Ser Donnal Storm [Friend (10/100)] - You tried your best to help squire for him today and he appreciated it. He was glad to give you some practice as well.





*This action runs contrary to the established character traits of Wolfblooded and Good-Natured, resulting in an FS cost to pick it.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choices you made last chapter:





[X] Practice all you can with the bow. (You may never be as good as Greyjoy but you can try.) *Locks in one archery training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% archery XP.
[X] Spend all the time that you can practicing the sword. (Someday you want to be the one being cheered by an adoring crowd as you put all of your opponents into the dirt.) *Locks in one sword training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% sword training XP.
[X] Devote as much time as you can to learn how to ride a horse and strike a target with a lance. (You want to be just like Ser Donnal someday, winning tourneys and crowning fair maidens. Who knows? Maybe one day you'll get to crown Sansa. She would love that, you think.) *Locks in one riding and jousting training action per cycle, when available, for the next year with the option to double up. +25% Jousting training XP.
[X] Agree. (Gold is often fleeting, you think. Friends are far more valuable.)
[X] Try to approach this diplomatically. (You know you can't beat them in a fair fight if Armit Pryor's performance in the melee is any indication. Hopefully, they won't continue their bullying if there are too many witnesses and if things come to blows, at least you can say you tried.)





You see the two noble squires hovering over the peasant boy as Pryor gives him a sharp kick in the side. As you approach, you're enraged by their behavior but you manage to keep a lid on it, for now, giving a neutral greeting. "Lo!" All three heads turn to face you in the darkness as you ask, "What's going on here?"


The loathsome Lynderly squire looks you up and down in your riding leathers and furs with the embossed Stark direwolf and says, "Who are you?" You notice that the Hersy boy is beginning to look a bit uncomfortable, noticing the armed presence of Wyl lurking in the distance.


You glance to the peasant boy still scrambling to right himself after the assault of the two noble squires. "I'm Jon Snow and It seems to me you've gone too far. Honor compels me to intervene." That may have been a bit dramatic but you stand firm and hold your ground.


"Who are you to say, bastard? What do you know of honor?" the Lynderly squire questions, stepping further into your space. You grit your teeth and are sorely tempted to strike the impudent squire but your prudence halts you as you look to Wyl for direction, He gives a shrug as the Lynderly and Hersy squires advance.


You take a step towards the Lynderly squire. "More than you, I'd wager. Now, leave him alone."


The peasant boy tries to take advantage of the distraction to get up and slip away but the Hersy squire keeps him on the ground under the heel of his boot and reaches for the boy's coin purse. "This one couldn't possibly have learned to shoot that well by doing anything other than poaching, We are well within our rights to demand recompense."


"Don't justify yourself to this lackwit…" Armit Pryor towers over you and pokes the direwolf on your chest. "...Wolf or no, he's just a bastard." A scowl comes unbidden to your face and you swat his hand away from your chest. Not taking that well, he easily shoves you to the ground, prompting Wyl to intervene and step between you and Pryor.


With his right hand on his sword hilt, Wyl says, "Step back from my charge, young lord."


Pryor snarls. "You're lucky your father sent minders to watch where you step, bastard. Next time, you might not be so lucky."


By this time, Hersy has already finished taking the peasant boy's coin purse and is beckoning for Pryor. "C'mon, Armit. We're done here."


The peasant boy gets up and hides behind Wyl as the two squires begin to leave. How dare they take the boy's winnings? You're about to march right back up to them and demand they give it back before you feel a firm hand grip your shoulder. "Let 'em go, Jon. We'll tell Ser Donnal about this and it'll get to Lord Coldwater. Things will be set to rights."


The boy next to you speaks up as you hear the squires' laughter in the distance. "Thanks for trying to help me." It's hard to make out his features in the darkness but his hair is of a darker shade and his eyes look to be of a color that reminds you of moss. He's a bit taller and bigger than you but not by much. He likely has a year or two on you.


Brushing yourself off, you reply, "It was the right thing to do. Just because they were born on the right side of the sheets doesn't mean they have the right to treat everyone else like dirt."


The boy tilts his head with a small smile. "They do though. Have that right, I mean."


You scowl. "They shouldn't. My name's Jon by the way. Jon Snow."


He nods and you grasp each other's forearms and shake firmly "I know. I heard. I'm Willem."


Your mind can't help but wander to Arwald of the Hills and his condition."Well met. Your victory on the archery field was well done. How fares your master?"


Even in the dark, you can see the sadness that graces his visage. "Not well. A big shard of the bastard knight's lance was driven into his armpit. He fears that he's not long for this world." You notice his anger and hope that he doesn't hold too much of a grudge against Ser Donnal. It was an accident, after all.


"Have you called upon the Maester?" you ask as Willem leads you and Wyl over to his master's tent.


He pushes back the entrance to the tent as you enter."Aye. Lord Coldwater was kind enough to lend us his services. He stitched up the wound and left us some milk of the poppy for the pain."


You're surprised to see not only Arwald of the Hills in the small tent but Ser Donnal as well at his bedside. You had imagined that he'd be at Lord Coldwater's feast as a guest of honor. They both look up as you enter but Arwald is the one who speaks. "Ah, boy. It's well you're back. I'd like you to meet Ser Donnal here."


Willem narrows his eyes. "Why is he here?"


Ser Donnal's countenance is unusually solemn. "I've come to stand vigil over your master. It only seems right."


After a drawn-out coughing fit in which blood finds its way on the white linen sheets, Arwald finds the strength to reach and grab the bastard knight by the shoulder. "He will be the one to continue your training. It's been decided. Even if I survive the night, I'm likely not long for this world and I doubt I'll ever heft a sword again."


Willem immediately goes to his master's side, not even glancing at Ser Donnal. "But you'll survive. I'm sure of it and who will look after you when I'm gone?"


Arwald turns the question back at him. "Who will look after you when I'm gone, boy?" He looks over Willem's filthy clothes and empty belt. "Did you pick a fight you couldn't win again?"


Willem shakes his head. "Trouble found me this time. I didn't go looking for it." He explains what happened with the highborn squires and tells him of your attempt at assistance.


Arwald looks vindicated. "See...best for trouble to find you in the company of others. They just might help you get out of it."


Willem grimaces at that, for what reason you cannot say. For your part, you can't say you were much help. You only got shoved to the ground for your trouble. At least now Ser Donnal knows what happened and might be able to do something about the lost winnings. You hope.


Arwald continues to talk to Willem and you can't help but feel that this should have been a private conversation. "I'm ready to meet the Gods, boy. Don't fret."


Wyl takes you back to the ship as Ser Donnal and Willem stand vigil for Arwald for the night. You tell Donovan about Willem and Ser Donnal's promise. You can tell that the older squire has mixed feelings about the whole thing. In the morning, it's a solemn pair that comes to the ship and you assume that Arwald of the Hills was correct in his conviction that he'd be dead come morn. As far as good news goes, you notice that Willem's belt has a full coin purse on it once more but whether it was his original winnings or recompense from Ser Donnal, you cannot say. As the Grace to Glory leaves the small port of Coldwater, you look out on the pink sunrise and continue your journey South.





Disperse 6 additional actions among the following choices. Vote in plan format





[ ] Interact with


-[ ] Harwin


-[ ] Donnis


-[ ] Wyl


-[ ] Ser Donnal


-[ ] Donovan


-[ ] Willem


-[ ] The Crew





[ ] Combat Practice


-[X] [ ] Bastard Sword


-[X] [ ] Sword and Shield


-[ ] Unarmed and Dagger





[ ] Music Practice (Lute)


-[ ] Learn The Song of the Seven


-[ ] Learn The Bear and the Maiden Fair


-[ ] Learn The Sad Lament of Brave Young Danny Flint


-[ ] Learn The Ballad of Bael the Bard


-[ ] Learn The Mother's Hymn


-[ ] Learn The Last of the Giants





Trait gained!





[Good-Natured II] – You have a natural inclination to help others in need and bristle at perceived injustices and people abusing their stations. You tend to resort to words first, however, to right these wrongs. People like you more for it but sometimes you feel stepped upon. Charisma +3, +5 general opinion, -1 Wisdom.





Relation gained!





Willem [Friend (10/100)] – He appreciated that you tried to step in on his behalf. You didn't have to.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Plan you picked:





[X] Plan Sea journeys
-[X] Interact with
--[X] Ser Donnal
--[X] Willem
--[X] Donovan
--[X] Harwin
-[X] Combat Practice
--[X] Unarmed and Dagger
-[X] Music Practice (Lute)
--[X] Learn The Last of the Giants








Ducking and looking down at the deck, you can feel the air ripple over the hairs on the back of your neck as Ser Donnal's sword passes you by. This is your third bout with the man in as many days and each time you've lasted longer than before. The two of you clash once more with your bastard sword meeting his longsword in a series of blows that sends you reeling backward across the creaking planks. Dodging the last blow and a thrust of his shield, you manage to score a lucky strike against the knight's thigh, earning you a smile and a firm swat on your arm for your efforts. It was lucky that Ser Donnal kept a collection of tourney blades for practice with his squire, Donovan, because he now had two more students to contend with. Donovan and Willem were watching you right now along with the Winterfell guardsmen. You were faring well against the bastard knight even though he treated this as a game as opposed to a real match. You only had eight years to your name, after all, but you were in the midst of a growth spurt, nearly of a height with Willem and half a foot shorter than Donovan. You were quick too, with long arms that complemented the reach of the bastard sword nicely. You alternatively dance and sometimes stumble out of his reach as you keep him at bay with your long sword.





Despite the vigor of your efforts, Ser Donnal knocks you to the deck without breaking a sweat not two minutes after you started. He gives you a small smile as he helps you back to your feet. "Not bad, Jon. Keep up that fancy footwork and you'll put many a foe in the dirt."





You smile back. "Thank you, Ser." You then join the group watching the sparring bouts as Donovan and Willem go at it. Donovan takes visible pleasure in beating down on the peasant squire with well-placed, powerful strikes. After that, it's your turn with Donovan. He doesn't beat you as easily as he did a week ago before the tourney at Coldwater but you still can't find a viable counter to his size and strength. The match goes much the same as your bout with Ser Donnal, lasting about two minutes before your back is on the deck. You find the greatest pleasure, however, in your match against Willem, where you beat him in less than a minute with a sharply times riposte. With sparring done for the day, you find odd jobs to do around the ship to keep you busy. You brush down the deck, tie knots, and take a shift on the oars as the ship finds its way past the Fingers. The ship keeps close to the shore during the day and veers further away at night to avoid crashing against the rocks jutting out from the coast. You learn how to use the compass that keeps you on course in the daylight and corrects your course in the morning if you lose sight of land. You soon dock at Old Anchor, the seat of House Melcolm to get a long-awaited reprieve and trade for supplies. It's your last stop in the Vale as Ser Donnal told you that the ship would be passing by Runestone and Wickenden on your way to Maidenpool and the Saltpans. He doesn't have high hopes for a tourney in any of the locations, so it will mostly be a trading expedition.





Sitting on the edge of the deck and trying to catch fish with the pole and line gifted to you by Ser Donnal, you hear the boards creaking behind you and the gruff voice of Harwin disturb your peace. "Jon, I'd like to talk to you, lad."





You turn your head to see the senior guardsman limping towards you. The ointment you purchased in White Harbor has come in handy with Harwin's wound beginning to fester not long after you left Coldwater. Now, however, you believe that he's on the mend since he's been participating in spars and taking up more duties around the ship. He takes a seat beside you on the edge of the deck, nudging you on your arm. "It won't be long before we'll get you to Grandview. I've talked it over with Donnis and Wyl and neither of them are particularly eager to return to Winterfell before seeing more of the Realm. I can only leave one of them with you and explain it to Lord Stark and I'd like your opinion on the matter."





You nod and think it over for a bit before making your decision. In the end, you ask for...





[ ] Wyl (Wyl is an excellent swordsman and you don't doubt that he would defend you well but sometimes he seems to prize saving a copper over common sense.)





[ ] Donnis (Donnis is a superb archer and he's served you well so far, filling your belly with rabbits and your head with stories. Sometimes, however, you think he values his next sexual conquest over your safety.)





…





"The small folk have stolen my forests. They've stolen my rivers and hills…" You hear footsteps behind you as you sing the new song you're trying to learn: The Last of the Giants.





"Your tune is all wrong." You hear Willem's voice as the former free-rider squire takes a seat beside you.





"How would you know?," you ask, not unkindly. As far as you can tell Willem is not of the North and the book of songs you got in White Harbor states that the song originated in the farthest reaches of the North. There are even whispers that the wildlings beyond the Wall sing it around their campfires at night.





"My mother used to sing it to me 'fore I went to sleep. She was of the Mountain Clans but when she met my pa in the forest, she decided to settle down in the village." There's a small smile on his face like he's remembering an oft-told story fondly. "He had burns and scars all over his arms thanks to his life as the village blacksmith, so she thought he was of the Burned Men and trying to steal her for a wife. She nearly gelded him." He laughs, not explaining how his father got out of his predicament.





You're more curious about how she came to live in an Andal village. "She was accepted in your community?"





He shrugs his shoulders. "Not completely, but enough to stay for a while. A lot of us keep to the Old Gods up in the hills. Arwald did too. It's why no one would knight him, no matter how many clansmen he killed."





You smile when he says "us" like he was a follower of the Old Gods as well. "You keep to the Old Gods?"





He smiles back. "Aye."





You continue to talk with Willem for a long while, perfecting your tune for the song and talking about his life in the village of Ashton and your life at Winterfell. Before you know it, you think you've made one of your first friends outside of the North because, although you're not quite sure why, you think Willem is someone you can depend on.





…





Grappling with Donovan on the deck, turning this way and that, you struggle to get the upper hand. Ser Donnal is watching you both with an easy grin as he leans against the side of the ship. You've already tried your hand at wrestling with Willem and even though he's bigger, you were scrappier and you managed to beat him more often than not. Donovan, on the other hand, is near twice your size and half again as strong. He's pinned you to the ground time after time but you keep coming back for more because you want to get better and you don't get better by facing off against weaker opponents.





Before long, Donovan has you on your back once more. "Come on, Jon! Flip him over!" Wyl yells in the distance. You try your best to leverage your weight and hook his leg, pushing with all your might to turn the tables. Breathless, you actually succeed, turning Donovan onto his own back as his eyes widen in surprise. Despite the skillful move you made, Donovan regains the upper hand within seconds, pinning you to the deck with considerable force.





"Ugh, I yield," you say, your head swimming after bouncing off the deck.





Donovan pulls you back up to your feet, clapping you on the shoulder on your way up. "Well fought, Jon."





You give him a small smile. "I'll beat you next time."





He laughs. "You keep telling yourself that."





"Sometime it will be true," you say, hoping that you'll get the chance to beat him before you leave Ser Donnal's company.





You've spent more and more time with Donovan over the past week and in some ways, he reminds you of your brother, Robb. Although lanky instead of broad, and black-haired instead of ginger, he always finds ways of getting into trouble around the ship and often tries to rope you into it, playing pranks on the cook and other crew members. Most times, his pranks are harmless but his last one had Ser Donnal threatening to keelhaul his arse. He managed to get past fat Erwin and put half the ship's salt supply into the fish stew, resulting in a fouler taste than usual and making the crew and your company drink a sizable amount of the ship's water supply from the resulting thirst.





Despite his propensity for mischief, or perhaps because of it, he's quite the affable fellow and, for the most part, has made you and Willem feel welcome, although the both of you have been encroaching upon his duties as Ser Donnal's squire. He's even been trying to teach you some combat tips and has even been helpful with perfecting your skill with your dagger. Ser Donnal approved, saying that when two armored foes go to the ground during a fight, skill with a dagger can mean the difference between life and death.





Speaking of Ser Donnal, he's been holding out hope, despite his earlier doubts, that there will be another tourney at Maidenpool, the seat of House Mooton. The house was a traditionally wealthy one thanks to its port on the Bay of Crabs, their coffers only marginally diminished from taking the wrong side in Robert's Rebellion, and the occasional tourney was a meager expense compared to their vast wealth, or so Ser Donnal claimed.





Despite your earlier plans to bypass Wickenden, you make a short stop at the shanty port to get news of the happenings in Maidenpool and Saltpans. Ser Donnal comes back aboard with the news that there will indeed be a tourney in Maidenpool in a sennight's time. He's conflicted about whether to go to Saltpans first or be at port for a week in Maidenpool. You would potentially waste time in Maidenpool but if you go to Saltpans first, you could be delayed and miss the tourney. That might not be a bad thing, however, as Wyl is determined to compete in the melee this time around, regardless of what Harwin thinks. After discussing it with your group, you approach Ser Donnal with the opinion that you should first stop at….





[ ] Saltpans (The joint seat of Houses Hawick and Cox, it's a small trading port at the end of the Bay of Crabs. There isn't as much trade going on as in Maidenpool, but many ships from Braavos are known to make this a port of call. This is also Donovan's hometown and he's eager to see his family again. It's a planned stop anyway but you might miss the tourney in Maidenpool.)





[ ] Maidenpool (The seat of House Mooton, it's a medium-sized trading port midway through the Bay of Crabs. It's a rather wealthy town with many ships from all over Essos and Westeros coming to trade at its markets. There's a tourney here set to begin in a sennight and you might spend the time here waiting for it to begin. However, you're set to stop at the Saltpans anyway and it would be a further week lost in your journey to Grandview.)





Character experience gained!



Lvl 4 (1435/4000XP) --> Lvl 4 (2935/4000XP)



Skill experience gained!



Music: Lute Lvl 4 (112/1000XP) --> Lvl 4 (866/1000XP)



Combat skill experience gained!



Bastard Sword/ Two-Handed Lvl 5 (550/2000XP) --> Lvl 5 (1254/2000XP)


Sword and Shield Lvl 4 (220/1000XP) --> Lvl 5 (235/2000XP)


Unarmed Lvl 3 (280/500XP) --> Lvl 4 (397/1000XP)


Dagger Lvl 4 (112/1000XP) --> Lvl 4 (866/1000XP)



Relations altered!


Harwin [Friend (25/100)] - He thinks you're a good lad and will be sad to leave you in a few weeks.


Ser Donall [Friend (15/100)] - He's enjoyed teaching you what he knows and thinks you'll make for an excellent squire for this Ser Narbert.


Donovan [Friend (10/100)] - He likes that you don't take his pranks too personally and you're not a terrible person to have around the ship.


Willem [Friend (25/100)] - As fellow worshippers of the Old Gods and aspiring knights, he thinks you've formed a special bond.

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choices you made last chapter:





[X] Wyl (Wyl is an excellent swordsman and you don't doubt that he would defend you well but sometimes he seems to prize saving a copper over common sense.)


[X] Saltpans (The joint seat of Houses Hawick and Cox, it's a small trading port at the end of the Bay of Crabs. There isn't as much trade going on as in Maidenpool, but many ships from Braavos are known to make this a port of call. This is also Donovan's hometown and he's eager to see his family again. It's a planned stop anyway but you might miss the tourney in Maidenpool.)





The mists are thick as the Grace to Glory maneuvers around the Quiet Isle and into the ramshackle docks at Saltpans. It takes all the crew's effort to avoid the banks of sand mere feet below the ship's draft at low tide. If the ship wasn't Ironborn in make, you imagine it would have a tough time navigating the waters. You say as much to Ser Donnal, who says, "Aye, Ironborn ships have little trouble in these waters when they come this far north on the eastern coast but Braavosi are skilled in this manner of sailing as well. The settlements further inland from their great city rely on their skimmers to supply them."





"What of the roads?" you ask.





Ser Donnal gives a small smirk, likely amused at your question. "The Braavosi are masters of canals and waterways, building on the coast or alongside rivers and streams. They have little need for roads and the marshes usually swallow up what few they build within a few years. Or, at least that's what the merchants tell me…. They are biased towards their prized ships like as not."





You imagine as a ship captain that he'd met a lot of merchants from many cultures across the Narrow Sea but you've heard that the Braavosi are a rather secluded lot. "You've met a great deal of Braavosi, then?"





Ser Donnal strokes his bushy red beard in consideration. "Enough to have a few interesting conversations, nothing more. They do so love to talk about their ships though. There will be quite a few here plying their trade if you care to talk to them yourself."





After your brief conversation about the Braavosi, Ser Donnal tells you and Donovan about what goods he's offloading and taking on. Obviously, he's purchasing a lot of salt, which fetches a high price in the Stormlands, and salted fish and meats, which can be bought here at a cheaper price than near anywhere else. The price that the wood, furs, and metals from the North and Vale command will more than cover the cost of the goods he's buying, or so he hopes. The small city of Saltpans is not a free city, where traders may ply their goods freely and without tariff. The Houses of Hawick and Cox always manage to take their due and it pays for any merchant to make a good impression. Ser Donnal will be visiting at least one of the houses bearing gifts both as a matter of good form and as an attempt to lower the tariffs for the Westerosi knight.





As the misty town comes into your sight, Ser Donnal grasps Donovan by the shoulder, putting a few coins into his hand, and says, "Give your mother my best and tell little Oren that he might come with us the next time we sail through. He's old enough to serve as a page, isn't he?"





Donovan shrugs. "He's six."





Ser Donnal seems to consider this briefly before making a decision. "Perhaps another year then. Spend the night with your family. I'll expect you back in the morn, however. I plan to set sail with the sun at its height and we'll have preparations to make."





Donovan smiles at this, pocketing the coin. "Thank you, Ser."




He also puts a few coppers in your hand as well, telling you to mind yourself and be back the next morn. It's not long after that you're pulling into the docks, tying down the ship, and stepping ashore. Saltpans is about the same size as Wintertown at its greatest size, when the winter snows reach their peak, you think. There are only a few stone buildings that you can see through the misty air, with the majority of the town being made up of wooden structures that often lean to one side or another. People are bustling around with a purpose, however, and the town is not near as sleepy as it appears at first glance. You observe the merchants setting up shop along the docks bear many fine wares from across the free cities: Jewelry, dyed silk, exotic furs, fine bronze, steel, whalebone, and oil. Many more goods you don't recognize are also on display. Donovan is also going to meet his family further into the town, and although you're reluctant to invite yourself along, you're curious about his family and you don't think your presence would be entirely unwelcome. Ser Donnal is headed to the Cox castle overlooking the town on his way to meet the landed knight who lives there. You think perhaps you could learn something by tagging along. Of course, you could always just spend the day at the markets looking for both items for yourself and gifts to send back home to your siblings. That gold dragon of yours is just begging to be spent at this point. Wyl has decided to accompany you today whatever you decide to do and in the end, you decide that you want to go….


[ ] With Donovan to visit his family. (You haven't exactly been invited but you're curious to meet them all the same and Donovan has no objections to your company. Besides, you think you have enough coin to provide a more than ample contribution to any supper they'll be having to make you welcome enough in their home.)





[ ] With Ser Donnal to visit House Cox. (You'd like to meet another knight. Perhaps you might learn something and get to train a bit. Besides, you're curious about how the landed knights of Cox fare under the shadow of the more powerful House Hawick upstream.)





[ ] To the markets and other docks. (You're fascinated by the prospect of meeting other people from distant lands. You'll not be able to visit Essos for the foreseeable future but perhaps you might get a taste of it here. Merchants hawk all manner of goods and sea captains linger for trading and rumors. You might be able to find gifts for your siblings and items for your own use as well.)

 

[Walpurgis Knight]

Choice you made last chapter:





[X] To the markets and other docks. (You're fascinated by the prospect of meeting other people from distant lands. You'll not be able to visit Essos for the foreseeable future but perhaps you might get a taste of it here. Merchants hawk all manner of goods and sea captains linger for trading and rumors. You might be able to find gifts for your siblings and items for your own use as well.)





Disembarking from the Grace to Glory onto the rickety planks of the dock, you take in the misty air, smelling the fish and cookfires from the small town. With Wyl in tow you head towards the many stalls propped up along the shore draped with cloths of many different colors. Blues and greens, grays and blacks, oranges and reds. As you come closer, you see queer furs, silks of many different colors, jewelry of all kinds, and fine weapons of steel and more of decorative bronze. The men who hawked the wares were queer as well, some wearing finery and jewels more fit for women, with others dyeing their hair blue and green. You take your time looking through the various items on offer, turning over your golden dragon in your hand, eventually deciding to purchase….





*You have 1 Gold Dragon = 210 Silver Stags. You may pick more than one item or none at all. Remember to vote in plan format.





[ ] A bronze axe (Small enough to loop to your belt and bearing an intricate leather hilt, this axe has the runes of the first men etched onto its sides. Not as strong as castle forged steel or even basic iron, this axe nonetheless is well made and possesses a keenly honed edge. 6 min dmg) *Lose 20 Silver Stags





[ ] A silver brooch in the shape of a fine flower (You couldn't say if it's in the shape of a house sigil or simply an elegant Essosi design but it might make a fine gift for Sansa. You don't think Arya is of an age to like it yet and you wouldn't dare to give a gift to Lady Stark. She'd likely find some insult in it.) * Lose 40 Silver Stags




[ ] A Hrakkar pelt from the Great Grass Sea (White as snow, the pelt is soft to the touch. You imagine it would make a fine accompaniment to your grey cloak atop your shoulders. Alternatively, you could send it back to Winterfell as a gift to your father or Robb. It would be a small sign of your success thus far and you have no doubt that any extra fur would be appreciated back up north. +3 Charisma) *Lose 100 Silver Stags





[ ] A small iron cuirass (battered but not rusted, this piece of armor looks to be only a bit large for you, close enough to your size to be serviceable, although you wonder what warrior would be so small. Judging by the rivets at the center of the chest piece, there had once been some sort of adornment or sigil affixed to it. Mayhaps a direwolf may find itself there in time. +6 dmg reduction, stacks with riding leathers but it looks as if you'll outgrow it in a few years.) *Lose 80 Silver Stags



[ ] Nothing (You don't see anything that interests you and you reckon your gold dragon might yet be spent on better things down the line.)





After chatting with the merchants who regale you with tales of their travels, you take a look at the ships as well, noticing a great galleas painted all in purple with three masts and two rows of oars, a swan ship with sails of green, and a fishing skimmer adorned in shades of brown and gray. "Purple is the color of Braavos," Wyl points out, leaving you at a loss for the origins of the other ships. Their captains all linger at the docks, chatting with those who pass by. Perhaps they are simply offering passage but they seem affable enough and you decide to approach…





[ ] The captain of the Braavosi galleas. (The man is also wearing the purple dye that his city is known for. He bears a slim sword on his hip and holds himself in a manner that implies that he knows how to use it. His crew is loading and unloading crates along the dock somewhat cheerfully as they sing in their foreign tongue. You wonder if the man speaks the common tongue and if you might learn more about the hidden city and the men who call it home.)





[ ] The captain of the green swan ship. (This man is dressed in the manner of many of the merchants, with dyed green hair and finery of silk and lace in a deep sea-colored blue. From what little you've learned of the free cities, you make a guess that the man is from either Tyrosh or Myr. The crew of the ship looks to be diverse with a few noticable summer islanders working together with men paler and hairier than you've ever seen, even in the North. You hope that if you speak with the crew or the captain, you might learn more about a great many places, even some that most in Westeros have only heard whispers about, if anything at all.)





[ ] The captain of the drably colored fishing vessel. (This option looks the least promising if you wish to learn anything of Essos or the wider world. The crew unloads fish and shellfish from the Bay of Crabs onto the docks and looks to be made up of local Riverlanders with perhaps a few sailors mixed in from other parts of Westeros. The gray-haired captain, however, looks like he's spent the majority of his life on the sea either fighting pirates or being one judging by the scars on his disfigured face. He bears two axes on his belt, wears mail and leather, and looks as if he could hack a man to pieces as easily as breathing. Perhaps you could learn more about the Riverlands by talking with the crew and maybe hear a few stories from the grizzled captain.