The worth of his ambitions (ASOIAF)

[Marcooooo]

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

"Why?" he tried to say, but he only archived to make blood come out of his throat. He reposed on the ground watching the Thracian sky. Above him, Sol was shining bright. The grass beneath him felt comfortable.

His end was ironic. After a lifetime of war and hundreds of battles. Starting as a simple legionary and becoming Imperator of Rome. His praetorian guard had slain him like a dog. What plot he wondered in the last moments of his life had he been a victim of. He couldn't understand what would they gain from his death. His lasts thoughts went to Rome.

For how long would it stand in his absence? He had done what he could to get it out of the crisis that had plagued it when he became Imperator. But he hadn't had the time to make meaningful changes. He doubted the eternal city would stand long as it was. A pool of his blood formed beneath him, disrupting his musings.

When he regained consciousness darkness surrounded him. It pressured him almost physically. Every time he tried to open his eyes, the brightness of it blinded him. He couldn't feel his body, he felt as if he was floating. Eventually, the darkness subsided.

Then he opened his eyes, he could see he was in a cave. He started to feel how cold the cave was. There was no source of light, but he could see well enough. He put his hand on his neck feeling as if blood would keep spilling out of his throat. But he felt nothing in his neck, not even a scar. He looked down and realized he was naked. Looking around he saw that leaning on a wall of the cave was his spatha. Not the one he used as Imperator which was adorned with gold and gemstones. But the one he had used as a common legionary. It was simple, unrecognizable from any other but for the marks of years of battle that decorated it. It looked like the sword of a proper soldier if he said so himself. Next to it was a long-sleeved tunic dyed deep red and white and a couple of caligae. He tried to move towards them but after he took a single step he fell to his knees. His vision became blurry, and he fell face-first to the ground.

Lucius dreamed, at first he didn't understand what was he dreaming. He realized he was seeing the future of Rome. He saw assassinations, battles, treaties and betrayals. Rome had two Imperators, Christianism took hold of the empire. He saw the fall of Rome.

When he woke up Lucius Domitius Aurelianus wept. After a few minutes, he dried his tears. He got dressed and put the caligae on, as if ready to venture down the cave. But then he sat down with his back leaning on the wall of the cave and put the spatha between his legs. He remained seated for a long time. Thinking, about Rome, about how was he still alive and about how everything he had done would amount to nothing. He knew the dreams were real. He sometimes dreamed of what could happen and of what had happened. His dreams had aided him greatly in the siege of Tyana and the subsequent campaign.

After a while, he made up his mind. He got up, took his scatha and decided that none of it mattered anymore. He was born in Dacia, the child of a farmer and a freed-woman and with nothing but his scatha, he became Imperator of Rome. If he had a sword he needed nothing more. Then he decided to make the most of what was left of his life, that is if he was even alive. He lifted his scatha, it was much heavier than he remembered. It was heavier than the last scatha he had lifted. But the day he couldn't lift a scatha was the day he would lie down and die, that day was not today. With his scatha in hand, he went down through the passage out of the cavern he was in.

The passage was two times his height and three times the width of his shoulders. Here the darkness was heavier, he no longer could see as if there was light around him. He couldn't see at all, he pointed his sword onward, and he moved slowly. Afraid that he would hit the wall if he was careless, but the passage was straight.

The floor was smooth and as he moved forwards it began to feel slippery, as if it was becoming moister and moister the more he advanced. As he continued he began to feel a warm current of air coming from where he was going. He stopped when he realized that the current came every few breaths. He hesitated for a minute but in the end, he resumed his advance.

Lucius couldn't see anything, but he could feel the ground below him becoming stickier and softer. It didn't feel as if there were hard rock beneath him but more as if he was standing in mud. He could also feel the air around him becoming more humid and warmer. A weird stench started to fill the cave as he ventured deeper. The tip of his sword hit something. He took a step backwards, but he slipped and fell on his butt. Then a yellow light appeared, filling the cave with light. He was blinded for a second.

He opened his eyes, and he could only see red around him. He noticed bones nearby and the floor and walls of the passage seemed painted with blood. He also noticed that the passage was much wider and taller than when he had entered it.

He turned his gaze towards the light and froze. The light was coming out of the eye of a giant creature, a monster. The eye itself was bigger than Lucius whole body.

The monster's thick white fur gave it an august appearance. The monster stared at him, and he stared back at the monster. Lucius dared not to move. There was something divine in its gaze. It was like something taken out of one of the legends.

He had never seen any creature quite like this one. He couldn't even see its mouth. The monster was in what appeared to be a wider and deeper cavern than the passage he was in.

He didn't want to see it either, the monster remained still and so did Lucius. Fear gripped his heart and so did excitement. He had died once no long ago and was a little desensitized to death. But never had he seen a beast like this one. Never had he questioned the absolute power of the gods, but he did so now. What power could they hold over the monster in front of him? What good would it do to pray to Sol, if he was in front of a creature that knew not the touch of his light?

He realized as he stared at its white eye in amazement. That this creature knew no god but itself. Although he was and would forever be a follower of Sol. This was the white one's domain and it held absolute control over it.

Minutes that felt like hours passed by. The white creature did not move, and fear gradually left Lucius, and he put his scatha on the ground in front of him. Then he slowly got up to his knees and spoke. "I am Lucius Domitius Aurelianus". His voice trembled a little at the end, and he waited to see how it would respond. The white creature kept staring at him. Maybe it didn't understand languages, this being seemed primal. Untouched and unmoved by civilization.

Still, Lucius found courage where before was nothing but crippling fear and stood up."I am the Imperator of Rome". This time his voice didn't tremble. He took a step forward and the gaze of the great white monster followed him as he moved."Restorer of the world". He said. He stood tall, defying even. It didn't matter what power this monster out of the mythos possessed.

He would not prostrate himself to any other than Sol Invictus himself. The white monster snorted making Lucius take a step backwards. Its eye lowered looking right in front of itself as if inviting him to come closer. Lucius hesitantly walked forwards towards its gaze. Taking every step full of doubt. The only thing he could hear while walking was his steps resounding through the passage and the breathing of the creature. Then he was right in front of the monster.

The creature only eye once again on his own eyes. He remained in front of the beast, its head dwarfing him. He wondered what the rest of its body looked like and his heart kept pounding faster and faster. He waited, expecting to be devoured at any moment but the moment never came. He kept his eyes on the beast's eye and standing tall. If he was to die at this moment he would not die cowering in fear.

The beast moved, and it did something which filled Lucius with dread.

It inhaled and Lucius felt his life leave him. His legs began to tremble, his skin wrinkled, even more, his vision worsened as his eyes whitened, his joints pained him and his muscles degraded. The beast was breathing in his life and Lucius couldn't even move out of the way. The beast stopped inhaling he dropped to his knees unable to keep standing. A shadow of his former self, he looked up to the beast. It took all his strength to keep his head up.

The beast then exhaled and strength returned to Lucius. His vision improved, his skin became smoother his hair regrew and darkened and his muscles regenerated. Lucius looked into the beast's eye and saw his reflection. His clothes were too big for him, or it became clear, he was too small for his clothes. He had shrunk, his hair was longer and darker than it had been in years. His face was childish, he no longer had a beard, he looked as if he was ten or twelve years old.

Looking into its eye he could see that behind him there was not the bloodied passage he had come from. But the coast of a river as wide as the Danube and even swifter.

He turned around and the smells hit him harder than the bright sun above. The smell of the river combined with the smell of winter and grass. He felt the smells with an intensity he had not felt in decades and saw the shapes with a clarity he did not remember they had. The wind blew in his face, and he closed his eyes for a moment. Enjoying the feeling of life. He then turned around and there was nothing but a field of grass with some trees.

Where was he and what had exactly happened? He looked back to the river and saw his spatha. It no longer had the marks of hundreds of battles and years of combats. Like himself it seemed rejuvenated, it also didn't look like it was made of steel anymore. The spatha's blade was black, so black in fact that it didn't even reflect the sun. He lifted it, and it was heavy, but not as heavy as it had been just a few minutes past. He sat by the river for hours until the sunset. He sat with the scatha between his legs like had sat after he had dreamed about the fall of Rome.

It seemed so insignificant, he felt so small. What was he in comparison with a being which moulded time like artists made sculptures? A being that could appear and disappear itself and others at will. A being which breathed life in and out of the world? He sat there and thought of how small he felt. It was how an ant would feel when it saw men and animals. Did the beings he called gods felt small in contrast to beings he couldn't even begin to imagine?.

All he knew is that he was way too small and unimportant to even understand how small and unimportant he was. It was with those thoughts that he watched the night sky full of stars he had not seen before. What should he do when even reality betrayed him? At least the moon still was there.

 

[Marcooooo]

Pate​

Pate saw the child on the road. He was wearing strange red and white clothes and carrying a black sword leaning it on his shoulder. The boy was walking alone on the road. His steps were confident, and his head held high. It looked like he was the son of some lordling lost in the woods, and so, Pate lifted his hatchet and prepared to jump out of the trees.

He signalled his lads to be ready. When the kid was so close he couldn't run away, Pate and his lads came out of the trees where they had been hiding all morning. The kid seemed surprised but not scared and lifted his black sword. Now that he was close, Pate realized that the boy had eyes and hair darker than anything he had seen before. Ringlets of opaque black hair adorned his head, and in his black eyes you couldn't make out his pupil."Put down the sword, kid, and we won't hurt ya." Said one of Pate's lads, Gared.

The boy remained still with his sword in both hands and didn't say a word. Pate rolled his eyes."Get the boy alive. He looks like a lordling. We may get money for him."

Two of Pate's men walked towards the boy. They didn't even lift their weapons. They both were a couple of steps away from the kid in opposite directions. The child walked backwards slowly to keep both men in front of him, like a pup cornered by hungry wolves. Suddenly Gared jumped forwards from the boy's left to grab his arm, but a black blur flashed through the air. The next moment Gared was on his knees, holding his guts inside his body with both his hands. Or at least trying to. An effort that proved fruitless, as the black sword cut through the air again. This time slitting Gared's throat.

Fortunately, Chett got close enough to hit the kid in the back of the head with his club and knocked him out cold. The boy fell to the ground face first."What do we do now, Pate.?" Asked Chett, he was looking at the now still Gared laying on the ground with one hand on his opened stomach and another on his opened throat. A shameful way to go, gutted by a kid.

"We'll carry the kid to the Oldstones and bury Gareth deeper in the forest." Pate looked at his men to see what they thought about his plan. They all nodded, and Chett was openly smiling while he dropped his club and took the black sword. Pate would solve that later, maybe slit his throat when he slept, and keep the sword for himself. He couldn't go around with a rusty hatchet while one of his men held such a fine sword.

The sun was setting when they arrived at the Oldstones. There was a fire already lit, and it seemed like old Will had managed to catch a buck and was skinning it. They were camping on the ruins near what must have been the gatehouse."Tie the boy to a tree. I don't want him running when he wakes." Ordered Pate.

Joss took the child and dropped him next to a tree with his back leaning on it. Tied him, and then went towards the fire. Looking more interested in the meat they were about to eat than in anything else. "What ya catch.?" Asked Will looking at the boy.

"Some lordling or sumthing." Pate replied following Will's gaze."He had no chance to tell." He added turning his eyes towards the deer.

"He'll tell when he wakes." Said Joss while he was adding some logs to the fire."Now keep goin Will, me stomach growling." He finished as he dropped the last log into the fire and sat by it.

Chett was alone sitting on the ruins of the wall holding his new black sword up and admiring it in the light of the twilight. Pate would let the lackwit enjoy it while he could. Soon enough it would be he who had a new nice sword. The sun finally set and the smell of burning meat filled the camp, the four of them gathered around the fire. It would be the first decent meal they had in days and the first fine meal they had in months. They had been living on berries and nuts and if old Will had not caught that deer Pate wasn't sure how long he could have continued eating the stuff. They ate and drank and laughed They had slain a wine merchant a few days before but they hadn't had a decent meal to accompany the wine with so that night they had a feast. Amidst the carousing they heard a grunt coming from the boy, he had awakened.

Pate and his lads moved towards the boy and sat in a semicircle around him, Chett brought one of the logs on the fire to shy away the shadows. The kid was tied too far away from the bonfire for the light to reach them."Do ya want a bite boy?" Will asked him while offering a piece of meat holding it in front of the kid's face but when he tried to take a bite Will took the meat away and bit it himself. They all laughed loudly at Will's antics.

"First tell us who are ya. Are ya sum lordling or sumthing?" Spoke Chett, his face a stark contrast to the boy's. Chett was an ugly bastard with a big broad broken nose, pig eyes and a big mouth with wide meaty lips. The kid instead had a delicate nose, upturned eyes and a small mouth with full lips. The kid answered in a strange language. Pate and the lads looked at each other for a second and then laughed. Chett laughed so hard that he fell backwards grabbing his stomach."A lordling ye said, is but an essosi shite." The kid was looking at them with squinted eyes. Chett got up and hit the brat with the back of his hand."What ye lookin at?!" He spat at the now bloodied face of the kid.

"Let us play a cut each, I start!" Said Will with a gleeful smile."Lets! I go second." Agreed with him Chett before licking his lips. Joss nodded and went for a knife, Pate ripped the boy's clothes at the chest and so they played, a cut each. Each got a turn and when the round ended and none had won they played another, and then another. That way they spent their night. Playing at the light of the embers, drinking and jesting while the kid grunted and gasped but surprisingly didn't scream. Never had Pate seen a game in which ten rounds went by without a winner, and eventually, they bored and left the kid to his pain. Drinking what was left of the wine and passing out.

Pate dreamt of screams, of men screaming, but he didn't wake up. Eventually, Pate slowly opened his eyes, his head hurt badly and he could hear screaming like in his dream. It took him a few seconds to realize he was tied down and a few more to feel that the back of his head was wet. He looked up towards the screaming, and what he saw left him horrified.

The kid was untied and cutting Chett's tongue with the black sword. Chett was screaming wordlessly and looking towards the sky, but Pate was sure he could see nothing for where once his stupid pig eyes were, now there was nothing but too bloodied holes. Pate looked away but then he saw Will. He wasn't tied like Pate and Chett, he was grovelling away, coughing. Pate looked at him more carefully, he could see that he also had no eyes, he had no ears, he probably had no tongue but most disturbingly was the fact that he had no hands or feet, and was leaving a trail of blood that started on a tree. Where he was most likely tied down moments ago.

If anything, Pate was a cautious man, so he had a bone knife on his right boot and most importantly, the kid didn't seem like he had noticed that he was awake. He moved his right foot to his left hand slowly, trying not to make a sound. All that could be heard was a sword slashing meat. More specifically Chett's extremities, who at this moment was no longer screaming and had started to sob and cough. If he listened closely over Will's grovelling, Pate could hear the river winds whispering. Finally, he reached his bone knife, cut his bindings and quietly stood up. He walked slowly, with his knife ready towards the unaware brat.

When Pate was but a couple of steps away from the accursed child he stumbled on something. He managed not to fall and looked down to see what he had stumbled on. It was Joss with his throat slit and with the moon reflecting on his wide-opened eyes, his face contorted in fear. Then he heard his voice speaking in his strange language. Pate looked up and saw the child looking at him. The moonlight didn't reflect on his raven hair or his deep black eyes. It did reflect, however, on the fresh blood itself that covered his chest, his hands and his bloodied black sword. It also reflected on his wicked white smile.

Pate didn't hesitate, he dropped the knife and ran away. His lads were all dead, and that demon disguised as a child would want to do to him what it had done to Chett and Will. So Pate ran, he ran until the sun came out and then ran some more until the sun was high in the sky. He didn't even think about where he was running. Pate just ran, ran through tall grass and ran through thick forests until he found himself in Hag's Mire.

The guards stopped him and asked him what he was doing, and he told them everything. From what he had done to the wine merchant to kidnapping the demon child, and he warned them about the demon that now dwelled in the Oldstones. Needless to say, they ignored him. They brought him to Lord Nayland, and they asked but one question."The Wall or the hangman?" And so, Pate soon found himself on his way to The Wall. They hadn't heeded his warning, but it didn't matter as long as he was far away. Hopefully, The Nightswatch would be far enough that he would never have to see that black-eyed demon again.

 

[Marcooooo]

Hake​

Hake was playing with his brother by the river, it was dawn, and the sun was showing from across the Blue Fork. Ben wanted to play before they fed their father's sheep and pigs. Hake loved his brother dearly, so even if he didn't find the games as fun as he had once had, he still had agreed to play for a while before they went to do their duties. They played rats and cats, as usual. Ben played the rat and ran away from Hake, laughing and screaming with his red hair waving in the wind, and Hake ran behind him. Slower than he could have run so that his brother could enjoy the game for longer.

Suddenly Ben tripped and disappeared beneath the tall green grass and made no sound. Hake ran towards him, worried. "Ben!" He shouted, running towards where his brother fell.

Then he heard his little brother laugh. "I'm alright! Didn't hurt meself." Said Ben between laughs while he stood up. He smiled and walked back to see what he had tripped with, then his smile faded. "Hake! There is a dead boy there!" He pointed to where he had looked and felled on his back. As he walked backwards, he fell and disappeared again, his laughter gone replaced by an unbelieving silence.

Hake arrived at where the corpse rested. He had to struggle not to look away. It was a kid his brother age, his upper body was bare and riddled with nasty wounds. His skin was pale, and his eyes were covered by black ringlets. Hake moved the kid's hair to see his eyes and his hand grazed the boy's forehead. It was way too hot for a dead body, way too hot for a living body too.

Hake was huge for a lad of ten and four namedays, as big as his father, so he took the dying kid and carried him over his shoulders. "Ben, come on, we have to take him to father. He'll know what to do." He told his brother while holding the boy on his shoulders and already walking towards his house.

"Look, Hake! A sword!" He yelled while he strugglingly lifted a black sword with both his hands. His voice trembling with excitement and trepidation, more trepidation than excitement really. The sword was relatively clean, but Hake could see a few blood stains under the morning sun.

"Well bring it, but don't dawdle, or I'll leave you behind!" He told his brother, turning his head forward and focusing on walking, the kid was heavy, and it would take all his strength and endurance to carry him to the house.

The trip home was long, Ben didn't make a sound and that worried Hake terribly, but he had more urgent matters to attend to. He wanted to save the kid and walked as fast as he could. It must have been an hour after they had set off to the house before they arrived. Neither had spoken a word in the whole time. While they were approaching, Hake could see his mother hanging the wet clothes outside the house and his father chopping the wood they would use that night.

His mother had bright red hair, which shinned under the morning sun. His father instead had the same dirty blond hair as himself. They looked his way and waved for a moment until they realized what it was that he was carrying on his shoulder or maybe what it was that Ben was dragging through the ground. His father dropped the hatchet and ran towards him. He didn't say a word. He just helped Hake carry the boy into the house while their mother took the sword from Ben and made sure that he was unhurt.

Hake helped his father take the boy into the house and on the table. "Go fetch water, Hake." His father commanded without taking his eyes from the boy, his voice was calm and firm. Hake took a bucket and ran to the river to get some water. It only took him around ten minutes to get the water and return, since his home was near the blue fork. He left the filled bucket on the floor next to the table and took a step back to let his father heal the boy. He watched as his father cleaned the boy's wounds. "Will he be fine, dad?" Hake asked while watching nervously.

"When I went to the war, I met a Maester, and he told me that if I was cut I should clean the wound." He threw some water on the boy's chest and wiped it with his hand. "I'm doing that, so all that's left to do is pray to the mother to have mercy," he said, briefly turning his head to look at him before throwing some more water on the boy's wounds.

The day went by with Hake's parents taking care of the boy while Hake and Ben herded the sheep and fed the pigs. They would have had supper in silence if not for Ben, who was very excited to meet the boy when he woke up. He had already decided to ask him to teach him how to fight. Hake wasn't sure if a boy of age with Ben could even know how to fight regardless of if they owned a sword or not. Ben disagreed.

The sunset came, and everyone went to sleep. Ben came to sleep on the same bed as Hake because they had left the boy on Ben's bed so he could rest and recover. Ben fell asleep easily enough, but Hake had more trouble getting to sleep. He was finally falling into the realm of sleep when he heard something coming from Ben's room. It was a soft voice, it seemed like the boy had finally woken up, but Hake didn't want his brother to wake up. He slowly got out of bed and went towards the voice.

As Hake slowly approached, he heard the boy's whispers. He carefully opened the door and saw the boy twisting. It seemed as if he had a bad dream. Hake took a step forward but stopped immediately, as the boy's eyes opened up wide and sat up abruptly. He turned his head towards Hake, and Hake could see his muscles tensing. He raised his opened hands so that the boy could see he wasn't a threat. Much like he would have done if he was dealing with a frightened animal. "Are yeh okay?" Hake asked.

The boy's eyes widened even more if that was even possible, but he nodded. He seemed to calm down a little but still looked around warily. He stopped for a moment as if thinking and then looked back at Hake. "Sword?" He spoke with a thick, strange accent.

"Me father is keeping it, don't worry, we will give it back to you when you get better" Hake paused for a moment and looked at the boy in the eyes. "How are yeh feeling? Yeh had a bad fever," he told the boy, but he didn't seem to pay much attention to Hake now that he realized that he was not in danger, and just shrugged. Then he lay down again, ignoring Hake. Hake decided that the boy must be a bit stupid, so he left him alone and went back to sleep.

 

[Marcooooo]

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

Lucius had left on the cover of the night. He was walking by the river when he looked around, decided that it was a good enough spot and sat down looking at the river swiftly flowing under the moonlight. Two weeks had passed since he had been rescued by a farmer, but he was still evaluating his situation. The family seemed nice enough. The youngest son spent most of his time bothering Lucius, trying to teach him their awful language. The oldest ignored him most of the time.

Lucius had been helpful around the farm. He feared that if he slacked too much, they would throw him away. He still left some hours available every day for training nonetheless. Since he had joined the legion, he had not missed training a single day until the day he died. But after his death, he had not trained until he had recovered from his wounds. He had only spent three days healing his wounds, and that was something that amazed him. He had been sure that he would die again. Before passing out and being found by the farmer's sons, he had seen that his wounds were infected and had no hope of surviving. Even if he survived, the recovery from injuries like those should have taken at least a few months, and no doubt his survival would have required an amputation.

He was sure that The White Being had given him some blessing. Even the colour of his eyes had changed. He used to have blue eyes back in Rome. A few days ago, he had seen his reflection by the river, and his eyes were darkest than any eyes he had seen. His hair, too, had changed from brown to black. The swift recovery of his wounds left him with no doubts that The White Being had blessed him. But why had he been blessed? He sighed and dropped on his back to watch the stars above him. He had now the opportunity of having a new life. No one had ever heard of Rome in this land, that much he was able to gather. His regained youth was somewhat bittersweet. It was true that he would live longer now, but no one would take a kid seriously. He would have to find a way to survive in this land until he reached an age where his many talents would be appreciated. He also disliked that, with his youth, he had lost his height. It was very disadvantageous for fighting, and he was not used to the new reach of his arm, which had caused him to be almost murdered by some common rabble.

The last few days, he had been taking night walks to think about what he should do. He rested his hand on his spatha, which calmed him down. At least the farmer had returned him his sword, and the farmer's wife had sewed his clothes, which he greatly appreciated. Maybe he should stay with the farmer for some time. He needed time to learn the language and gather information about the land. After all, he looked like a child and was sure that he should not talk about the miracle performed by The White Being to anyone. It would bring nothing but trouble.

Lucius sighed again. According to his mother, he was blessed by Sol, and she had been proven right by his premonitions and visions of the past. Now at the end of his life, he was blessed by yet another god. It seemed like he was favoured by the gods, which was a terrible burden. He hoped he had pleased Sol with his actions in Rome, but now it seemed like he would not only have to please Sol but The White Being as well.

He stood up, still troubled by his thoughts and was preparing to go back to the farmer's house when he noticed a little foot of a little bothersome person who was hiding behind a tree. Yet again, Lucius sighed. It seemed like the troublesome son of the farmer had followed him on his nightly walk. "Ben?" He asked, knowing full well the answer to his question. The boy came out of the tree where he was pitifully hiding.

"Lucius." The boy was looking down, fidgeting with his hands, but his shame didn't last long. The kid looked at him and started talking very fast in his barbaric language, probably trying to explain himself. Lucius, of course, did not understand a single word of what he was hearing, so he raised his hand with his palm open to get the boy to stop which, gratefully worked. Listening to the boy talk often remembered him of the bickering of the senators. Always complaining and panicking about one thing or the other.

Lucius quietly pointed in the direction of the boy's house, and without looking at him started walking towards it. The boy quickly followed, and obviously couldn't contain himself for long because he started talking again. It took some time to arrive at the house, and when they did, Lucius was not so sure about wanting to learn the language anymore.

Before going to bed, the boy pointed to Lucius spatha and made fighting gestures while asking something in his language. It had been clear for Lucius since he had recovered that the boy wanted to learn how to fight or at least wanted to spar with him. Usually, he denied the boy, pretending he didn't understand what he was saying. But now that he might be staying in this place for longer, the least he could do for his benefactor would be to teach his son one or two things about sword-fighting. He said one of the few words he had learned on his short stay on the farm. "Yes."

The boy jumped towards Lucius and hugged him tightly. As tightly as a boy his age was capable of anyway. Which made Lucius immediately regret his decision. He pulled the boy away from himself, and after that, the boy said a few more words, left Lucius alone and went to bed, almost jumping from the excitement. Lucius went to bed and thought of Rome, his wife and his daughter, who he had left behind and were now so far away, before finally falling asleep.

 

[Marcooooo]

Ben​

Ben was exhausted. He could feel the chilling sensation of the cold night winds hitting his skin wet with sweat. Ben was frustrated and angry at his lack of skill more than tired. He struck with his father's sword again and again with all the strength he had, but his stupid friend deflected every strike with ease. They had been sparring for hours and had not stopped for any rest, so Ben's movements were becoming sluggish. Lucius, on the other hand, didn't show any sign of being tired. Not even close to being as exhausted as Ben was. He found that unfair and infuriating since they both had trained together for the last three years.

A sudden kick in his knee dropped Ben out of his thoughts and into the ground. He tried to get up but found his chest touching the tip of Lucius's black sword. "We should stop now. Yeh are too tired even to keep your guard up." His friend told him with a disappointed look on his face. Ben ignored him and struck at Lucius's sword to get back on his feet. Before he realized what had happened, his sword ripped away from his hand. Lucius's s foot was now on his chest and his sword on his throat.

"If that is the best yeh have, yeh will be better staying here and letting me go to the tournament alone," Lucius said teasingly. Ben spat to his side and remained silent for a moment, waiting to regain his breath before speaking.

"Yeh know I have to go. Father asked me to find me own fortune. I do not need to win the tournament. I only have to catch the eye of sum knight who would have me as his squire." He finally replied, scowling at his failed attempt of shaking Lucius off. He was, after all, broader and taller than his foreign friend. In the last three years, Ben had gotten taller than even Hake but, it seemed that his height and weight accomplished nothing against Lucius talent for fighting.

"Well, yeh should never join a fight yeh don't intend to win, and yeh'd be better off winning the prize of the melee than as the squire of sum starving knight," Lucius replied. Lifting his foot, taking his sword away from Ben's neck and helping him stand up. "Yeh could buy yerself a ship and become a merchant or sumthing." Lucius continued while handing Ben his sword.

"I never had no head for numbers. Yeh know it," Ben replied, shrugging his shoulders. "I'd be better off buying meself some armour and a horse," he told Lucius, who patted him in the back and showed a gleeful smile while they walked back to the house.

"I knew yeh were a fighter at heart. Listen, Ben, we need to go to those free cities yeh talked to me about, join some mercenary company and see the world. But first, we should go win that tournament at Harrenhal to get us enough silver to buy ourselves some equipment and a passage in a nice ship to Tyrosh or Lys!" Lucius said while pointing his sword onwards like the commander of an army giving the order to charge. Ben looked at his friend, and behind the usual smile he usually had when they finished sparring or talked about war and fighting, Ben could see something else. The determination of going to any length to accomplish a dream. Ben had no true aspirations of his own. In truth, he would have much prefered to stay on the farm, but his father was right. The farm would not be able to support two families, and Hake was the first son. Ben looked at the determination of his friend eyes and wished to know, what it was, that pushed him to want to accomplish so many things.

"I don't know, Lucius. I don't think it will be as easy as yeh make it out to be," Ben told his overly optimistic friend. He turned back to him and lowered his sword, but his smile maintained never faltered.

"Come on, Ben. Don't yeh see the flowers finally blossoming and the days getting warmer, that winter of yehrs that lasts for years is finally ending, and spring is coming. And with spring comes opportunity! Sol is on our side, Ben! The biggest tournament of The Seven Kingdoms is taking place no far from here in a few months. It's our opportunity to make our way into the world!" When Lucius finished talking, Ben could not help but slightly smile. His friend always had a talent for lifting him when he was feeling down. They had been preparing for the tournament since they heard it was taking place a few weeks past. Ben's father had taken an old mail, which he had brought home as a spoil from war, to the blacksmith so it could be adjusted to fit Ben. Lucius had gotten himself a leather armour somehow. They were ready to go to the tournament and try their luck. They would only be participating in the melee since they were lowborn. They were not allowed in the jousting since they were not a knight nor a lord.

"Yeh are right, Lucius. It's a great opportunity. I hope that god of yehrs helps us. I know I pray to The Seven every night to grant us victory," Ben told Lucius, who made a dismissive gesture with his hand.

"Worry not, those knights of yehrs are going to have trouble keeping up with me," He said with a confident smile to Ben while keeping his eyes on the house which was now within sight.

"I hope yeh are right," Ben said before sighing. He did not understand how anyone could be so confident of defeating knights and lords. Especially when that someone was a lowborn of only fifteen namedays with no real training. No matter how talented Lucius was, Ben doubted he could defeat even a single knight.

Lucius stopped walking and turned to Ben with his smile still intact." I'm always right, Ben." He replied with his arms open as in inviting Ben to refute him. Ben didn't. It was somewhat true, so he shrugged in acceptance. Until now, Lucius had always been right about everything. Ben went to bed without saying another word and only had time for thinking how tired he was before quickly falling asleep.

 

[Marcooooo]

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

Lucius walked with leisure next to Ben. They were on their way to the tournament. Three days ago, they had stayed at the Inn of the kneeling man, a curious name for which Lucius had inquired. It was where King Torrhen Stark had knelt to Aegon the Conqueror, or so Ben had told him. But to Lucius misfortune, his young friend didn't know a lot about history and couldn't keep up with his questions. All he had been able to gather about Westeros was the name of a few towns and castles in the Riverlands, that Lords ruled and smallfolk obeyed. He admitted it wasn't much, considering he had been living among the barbarians for three years. But he had taken those years as much earned respite after a lifetime of war and ruling.

He had to admit that the last three years had been quite enjoyable. He had done nothing more than simple farm work, training and learning the brutish language of the people who lived here.

Ben put a hand on his shoulder, stopping him. "The sun is to set soon. We should rest here, get some shuteye and continue at dawn." He said. Lucius nodded and helped him set camp by the Riverroad. In a few minutes, a fire was ready, cooking a rabbit they had bought from a wandering merchant on his way to Riverrun. They sat next to it, drinking wine he had stored from the time he killed some bandits. "Why do yeh never drink more than one cup?" Ben asked him. They had been drinking in silence until now.

"Are yeh ever goin' to run out o' questions?" He asked back. Ben shook his head, smiling.

"I'll do when yeh stop bein' weird," Ben replied. "Yeh goin' to answer me question or not?" He insisted.

Lucius rolled his eyes. "Cause, Ben. A man ought to be moderate and reign his desires. Else he is no more than a clever beast." He explained to his unwise friend.

Ben laughed. "Yeh should think fewer, Lucius, yeh always talk about what a man ought to do or be when yeh should be enjoying life while we are still young. Sometimes me thinks yeh would make a better Maester than yeh would a Knight." He told him.

Lucius shrugged. "A wise warrior is oft' more dangerous. It never did no one no harm to be wise."

"That don't change me mind. I still think yeh chose the wrong profession." Ben said just before drinking what wine remained on his wooden cup. "Pass me more wine, will yeh? Yer uptight nature is no excuse to stop me fun." He gestured with his cup to the bottle of wine next to Lucius' feet.

"We ought to sleep." He told his drunkard friend while shaking his head. He finished drinking the last of his cup.

"Don't be an arsehole," Ben said while standing up. Lucius kicked the bottle of wine, and it spilt all over the grass. Ben looked at him frowning, and Lucius raised his open hands.

"I'm sorry, Ben. I be a bit clumsy after drinking." He told his friend smiling.

Ben shook his head and threw himself on his blanket. "Yeh are an arsehole." He said while reposing, facing away from Lucius. Lucius lied down on his blanket and tried to sleep while looking at the stars. He would never stop enjoying pissing Ben off. He fell asleep with a smile on his face.

---

Lucius woke up to Ben throwing cold water on his face while laughing maniacally. Lucius rose to his feet and unsheathed his sword and his eyes frantically searched for the source of the unexpected attack. When he saw Ben running away, he finally understood what had transpired. He sighed as the figure of Ben disappeared into the woods. The boy had learned of Lucius' quick temper the hard way and had come up with the strategy of running away after his misdeeds until Lucius calmed down.

The sun was yet to come out, but there already was some morning light. Lucius' stomach grumbled, and he got to the task of eating breakfast. The breakfast consisted of some bread and water. It had done so since they had left Ben's father's farm. It was only slightly worse than the bread and milk he had gotten used to during the last three years.

While he was eating breakfast, Lucius heard footsteps behind him. "Already came back, Ben? Want some bread? It's tough as a rock though." He told his friend, who stopped walking. He waited for a response, but as it failed to come, he turned around. Lucius almost jumped when instead of his friend, he saw a fully armoured man leading a horse. He seemed like he had just dismounted.

Lucius' hand went to his sword. The intruder raised his hands and smiled. "Worry not, lad. I mean no harm." He said, not the least bothered by Lucius' threatening movement.

"What do yeh want then?" He asked the man, his hand still on his sword and his eyes darting around, looking for signs of Ben. The man moved a few steps towards Lucius.

"I saw the fire, and since we are relatively close to Harrenhall, I gathered I should come to see if we headed in the same direction." He gestured towards Lucius. "Seeing you wear leather armour and carry a sword, I can't think of other places you would be going." He told him. Lucius released his sword and examined the man. His height was average, his hair brown, and his eyes too. The man, encouraged by Lucius, who seemed now more welcoming, came closer and offered his hand. "I believe an introduction is necessary. I'm Ser Sefton of the Paps. Who might you be?". Lucius looked at Stefon's extended hand and then back at his face. He shook his hand. His handshake wasn't as firm as he had expected.

"Yeh speak weird." He commented. The knight laughed and sat by the fire after taking a wineskin from his horse's saddlebag.

"I speak properly, unlike you boy." Sefton retorted and took a large swig from his wineskin. "Now. Who are you?"

"I'm Lucius Domitus Aurelianus." He told the increasingly rude knight.

Sefton frowned and shook his head. "Too many names. You must be from the other side of the narrow sea. I advise you to drop one of those in your introduction. Most in Westeros don't find foreigners trustworthy." He stopped for a moment and took a good look at him. "You speak with a common riverlander accent. Thus, most won't wonder about your foreign names." He took another long swig from his wineskin while pointing at his sword with his free hand. "Do you at least know how to use that?"

Lucius frowned. "Yeh speak too much, and yeh shouldn't drink so early." He shook his head and sat down with the drunkard. It had been a displeasing morning so far, and he wanted to enjoy his breakfast. "And I know how to use this." He said, placing his hand on the hilt of his sword. He picked up the bread he had dropped when startled, cleaned it a bit and then continued eating it.

"Are you squire boy? I see two blankets here, and I doubt you can carry all the bags here by yourself." Sefton asked him.

Lucius shook his head. "We are not squires. We hoped that if we performed well in the melee, some knight would accept us as squires." He said. Sefton laughed at him.

"That is not how it works. At all." He said between laughs. "First, you are too old to start squiring. You must be what, fifteen? Second, I doubt you will be able to participate in the melee. It will be a seven-sided melee in the ancient style." He waited for a moment before continuing. "But I'm guessing you don't know what that means." He said.

Lucius was about to respond when he saw Ben walking towards the fire from behind Sefton, his hand resting on his sword. He didn't seem nervous. Ben wasn't usually wary of strangers, and Lucius blamed this trusting nature on the boy's young age. "Who is yer friend Lucius?" He asked. Sefton stood up with a big smile on his face and extended a hand towards Ben.

"I'm Ser Sefton of the Paps. Who might you be?" He asked. Ben eyes immediately lit up, and he hurried to take the man's hand. It didn't surprise Lucius. The boy was fascinated by Knights and all things related to them.

"Me name is Ben, I'm from Riverside, it's a village south of the Oldstones, I be sure yeh heard not of it, it's rather small." Ben blurted words so quickly Lucius could barely follow, and he doubted Sefton had understood anything at all. Sefton laughed, most likely because he didn't know how to respond to Ben vomit of words. But it didn't take long for him to regain his senses.

"It's a pleasure, Ben. Your friend Lucius was telling me about your ambitions for the tourney. I was about to give him some advice if you don't mind." Sefton said and smiled at Ben, who was still shaking the Knight's hand. Ben nodded with enthusiasm. "Now, if I may." Sefton looked at his hand and opened his palm, it took a second for Ben to understand, but he let go of his hand.

"Yes! I be sorry, Ser. I just be excited. I always wanted to meet a Knight." He said as he seated next to the Knight and awaited his wise advice. Lucius would admit that it irked him a bit that Ben took the advice of some random Knight so easily while mostly ignored his. It was a shame that Ben didn't realize Lucius was not only a foreign child he had rescued who was rather gifted with the sword but that he had been Emperor of the greatest Empire to ever exist. Sadly there was nothing Lucius could do. Experience would teach Ben all he refused to learn from him.

Oblivious to Lucius' musings, Sefton began to talk while raising a finger. "Well, for your first problem. You are too old to start squiring, but you might be able to be knighted. I doubt you are skilled enough fighters for that to happen, but stranger things have happened than young lads being better with a sword than expected. If you fail to be knighted on the tourney don't fret, You will have many more opportunities. You are still young." He then raised another finger. "Your second problem is more urgent really. You can't compete on the melee unless you are in a team of seven." He said and made a dramatic pause. "In the seven-sided melees in ancient style, teams of seven compete against each other. Two teams face, and the loser is thrown out of the competition. This repeats itself until there is only one team left. Then the seven in the team face each other until only one man is left." He smiled. "Lucky for you, I intend to participate in the melee, so we have a team of three already. We only need four more." Ben was nodding during the entire speech of the Knight.

"I thinked knights competed in the joustin'," Lucius questioned.

"They mostly do," Sefton admitted. "I've never had a talent for jousting and I find few things as thrilling as a good melee." He said. "And it's said thought not thinked." A smile appeared on his face. "Now, let's spar a bit before we get moving. If we make haste we will arrive in a quarter of a moon. But I want to test your skills a little. It will not do me any good if you two are the worst fighters in the Riverlands." Sefton declared.

Lucius frowned "We never said we would team up with yeh." He told the Knight.

Sefton grinned widely while standing up and unsheathed his sword, walking away from the fire. "It's not like any more skilled men are offering you to team up, so you will. Now stop wasting time. I want to test your skill. We will start with you, Lucius." His grin got wider.

Lucius sighed and stood up. "Aye, we will." He said while unsheathing his spatha, the morning sunlight dying on its black edge.

 

[Marcooooo]

Sefton Woodhull​

Sefton felt the wine go through his throat and a warm sensation filled his chess. He loved wine; it helped keep the ill feelings away and forget his many failures. Sefton looked to his right where the boys were sleeping. They were less than a day of travel from Harrenhall, and since they didn't want some bastard getting funny ideas if he stumbled upon them while sleeping, they had decided to keep watch. Luck would have it that Sefton was the one who had to stay up first. He drank another gulp and looked at the moon.

Luck, he hated his. When he found the boys, he had been thrilled. Lucius, surprisingly, fought a lot better than him, and Ben, while not as talented, was huge, two heads taller than Sefton, who wasn't in any way small. He had even convinced them to team up for the tournament. That was a week ago. He had hoped they would find at least a couple of capable fighters on their way to Harrenhall. But they had only come across smallfolk and merchants. The melee inscriptions would close a week before the melee, which was bound to happen in two weeks. It was more likely that the boys would desert him for another team than him finding another four passable enough fighters.

He drank all the wine left in his wineskin. The worry of another failure in a tourney consumed him, and then there was his reputation. Sefton was not well know. The people that did know of him weren't likely to sing his praises. He sighed. If the boys left him, no team would have him. He rued the day he let himself be fooled by that Westerlander knight. Perhaps they would find someone tomorrow; he hoped so. They needn't be very skilled. Average fighters would do.

He heard a noise in the darkness. He looked at the place where he had heard it, but he couldn't see much. It probably was some animal running around in the woods. There wasn't anything big enough to threaten a knight in the Riverlands, so Sefton didn't worry. He looked back at the moon; it was beautiful tonight. The wine was making him sleepy. He didn't notice when he closed his eyes, but before he fell into the realm of dreams he heard a branch breaking.

Sefton's eyes opened sharply. He saw three men trying to sneak on them and unsheathed his sword. "Who goes!?" He shouted. In an instant, Lucius was standing up, sword in hand. Ben was startled and stumbled while getting up. The men froze. Now that his eyes had gotten used to firelight again, he could see the men more clearly. They wore leather and had swords on their belts. When he observed what they were walking towards, he was outraged. "You were trying to steal my horse!" He spat angrily. He advanced quickly and grabbed one of the men who were already trying to turn around and run away by the neck. The other two were quicker and escaped before Lucius could stop them. Ben was still trying to take his sword out of its sheath.

Lucius looked to where the figures of the fleeing men had disappeared before turning his sword towards the man Sefton was holding. The thief was little. He was shivering and trying to say something, but the fear made his tongue stumble, and nothing coherent came out of his mouth. "I say we kill him," Lucius said, and the thief yelped.

"I don't know. Maybe it will be better to let him go." Sefton replied. He didn't want to deal with the problems that would arise if someone found the body, and giving him to Lord Whent was too much effort.

Ben was crouching down to be at the same level as the thief and looking at him while taking the sword from the thief's belt. "Why don't we ask him to join us? We need more men in our team." He said. Sefton would have none of that.

"Because he is a coward." He shook the man by the neck. "Don't you see him trembling? And he tried to steal my horse. Maybe we should kill him." Sefton concluded.

Lucius seemed to contemplate the situation for a second before advancing and touching the thief's neck with the end of his sword. "What's your name?" He asked. Sefton was proud of how far he had gotten. He had helped them correct their accent and learn to talk properly. At least as much as they could learn in a week, but it was enough, for now.

"Ferret! Don-Do-Don't harm me pl-pl-please." The thief begged. Lucius was impassive, but Ben seemed a bit nervous. Sefton could smell piss, and suddenly he pitied the thief a little; he was also grossly disgusted by him.

"Can you fight Ferret?" Lucius asked, ignoring the smell of piss.

The little thief opened his mouth to answer, but Sefton spoke over him. "He is not joining our team, Lucius. He is a thief, a coward and can't be trusted! What are you even thinking?" Sefton spat angrily. He glared at the boy, and the boy held his gaze.

Lucius shrugged. "I'll test him; if he isn't good enough, I'll kill him right here and now. If he is, he joins us. What is the worst that could happen? If he abandons us when we arrive, we will be where we started. There is nothing to lose trying." Lucius said while taking his sword away from his neck.

Sefton didn't like this. He looked at Ben in search of an ally to talk sense into Lucius, but the boy just shook his head, telling him no support would come from him. Sefton sighed. "Fine, but I won't we responsible for taking care that he doesn't take our things and run. One of you two will watch him at all times." He told them.

"Fair enough," Lucius said. "Now release him. And you give him back his sword, Ben." He commanded while holding a combat stance. Sefton pushed the thief towards Lucius, and when he regained his footing, Ben threw him his sword. The little thief couldn't catch his sword, which hit him in the face and fell to the ground. The man was shaking, and when he grabbed his sword and unsheathed it, Sefton was sure the man wouldn't last. "Ready?" Lucius asked. The man opened his mouth to reply but then closed it again, gulped, and just nodded.

Lucius dashed forward and struck at the thief with quick slashes and stabs; they lacked strength behind them. Sefton suspected Lucius was testing Ferret. The thief was having a hard time diverting and evading Lucius' strikes; Ferret almost lost the grip of his sword a few times. When Lucius went for the kill, Ferret grinned, his smile as sharp as a knife, the shaky sword in his hand stilled, and the opening Lucius thought was there was a feint.

Sefton's eyes opened wide as Ferret took a step sideways, evading Lucius' strike and slashed at his neck. Lucius had been caught off-guard too. But with a timely reaction, he stepped backwards while blocking Ferret's attack. Now the thief was on the offensive, and before Lucius could regain the initiative, Ferret stopped a strike in mid-air and ran away. Lucius, who was too focused on stopping the strike, did not react in time to stop him. Ben ran towards him and tried to seize him, but the thief scurried off his grip, and Ben fell to the ground.

Sefton ran behind him. He heard Lucius' voice calling but didn't catch what he had said. He was gaining ground on the thief who ran desperately, and from time to time, looked back to see how close Sefton was. It was one of those looks that had caused Ferret to stumble on the roots of one of the trees.

The thief sword had fallen a few feet away from him. Ferret rolled on the floor and faced him. He was about to say something when Sefton placed his sword on Ferret's mouth. The thief opened his eyes wide. "Nothing you say is worth hearing," Sefton told him. He was a moment away from pushing his sword and ending the thief's life when he heard Lucius again.

"Ser Sefton!" He shouted. Lucius was panting when he reached him. He was still tired from the combat, it seemed.

Sefton looked at him disapprovingly. The boy was talented but way too arrogant for his own good. "I told you we should kill him." Sefton lectured the boy. He was once again about to kill Ferret when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"I want to talk to him, Ser," Lucius said. Sefton was considering just killing the filthy thief then and there but decided not to. He took his sword out of the little thief mouth, walked towards Ferret's sword, and picked it up. He would not gift him another chance to escape.

"If he does as much as breathing wrong, I'll cut him down, Lucius," Sefton told him.

"Thank you, Ser." He said, smiling. Lucius offered his hand to the thief and helped him stand up before grabbing him by his shoulders. Ferret seemed lost as if he couldn't understand what was happening. Sefton couldn't fault him. He didn't understand what was going through the boy's head either. "You fight well, Ferret." Lucius' smile never faltered. He seemed genuinely happy, but there was something in his eyes that didn't seem right. Ferret must have noticed it too. He remained tense and looked at Lucius with mistrust. "But it will not do for you to behave like that," Lucius said, looking somewhat sad.

"M-Me Lord, I didn't mean to-." Ferret began speaking, only for Lucius to strike him on the side with his fist. The little thief seemed to lose all air and fell on the ground again. Lucius began kicking him mercilessly until he was panting again. Ferret coughed a bit of blood, his dirty blonde hair scrubbing the mud.

"That was for attempting to steal Ser Sefton's horse and for pretending you didn't know how to fight." Lucius spitted on the thief. Sefton was unimpressed by the boy. He should have pierced his neck and be done with it. Then Lucius offered his hand to Ferret again, and the thief flinched. Lucius' hand remained still. After a moment of hesitation, the thief took it, and Lucius helped Ferret on his feet again, and to Sefton surprise, hugged him tightly. "Once we have a proper talk by the fire, with food and wine, and you realize what we offer you the opportunity of accomplishing, you will forget your wounds and beg to join us," Lucius whispered in Ferret's ear.

Ferret looked at Sefton with an eyebrow raised, his face contorted by the pain, which was probably only made worse by the hug. Sefton just shrugged. What could he say; Lucius was a strange lad.

 

[Nuitblanche]

That's a great start, there are lots of ASOIAF stories out there and many SI's but this one is greatly interesting.

 

[Revan Skirata]

Honestly, I feel sorry for anyone who has to fight Aurelian. He grew up on a frontier that was constantly being raided, and then he had a highly successful career in the legions for 40 years in a time period with high casualty rates. On top of that he's one of the greatest generals in Roman history, so once he gets some authority he'll be unstoppable. And there's no doubt in my mind that he's aiming for the throne again. There may not be Rome, but the Iron Throne will be a fine substitute.

 

[hoth]

I'm loving this story so far.

 

[Justinian]

This is really good!

 

[bryanfran36]

Aurelian? In Westeros?

There once was a dream, a dream to purge this rotten world of Westeros full of barbarians.

A dream called Rome.

And the gods have answered.


View: https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=PhFP75EGPsI

 

[Marcooooo]

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

The heat of the fire warmed Lucius' face and jolly banter filled his ears while he prepared another trout, he had already opened it, cleaned it and seasoned it with herbs, he threaded a green stick through it and placed it over the embers he had prepared next to the fire, before starting again with another. The whole process made him feel nostalgic, it reminded him of home, the first home he ever had, of him and his friends fishing in the Danube, of countless nights spent hanging out around campfires. For a moment his mind wandered to a place decades ago, before he was Emperor before he was an officer before he was a soldier and before he was a grown man.

It was an instant of bliss that was quickly snuffled away by his disciplined mind, he reminded himself of the dangers of letting one's mind wander and dwell in the past. The peaceful years on Ben's farm had weakened his resolve and made him doubt his purpose.

Life is change he reminded himself, tranquil happiness didn't last forever, the nights had been getting warmer, spring was coming, and if life as a soldier turned Emperor had taught him anything was that with spring came war. Here winter lasted years, decades even from what he had heard, how long would spring last? How many wars would spring bring with it?

As he finished preparing another trout, he grounded his mind back in the here and now, it was a bad habit for old souls like his to let it wander unchained. Ben was enraptured by the story Garth the bard was telling, "…Then, Harlys the Insatiable presented Garth Greenhand with a magnificent white bull he had captured while the beast drank from the Mander, fulfilling his promise to Garth, he sacrificed the beast in his honour and its blood watered the Oakenseat. But Harlys required more favours still…"

His lute rested on his side while he paused for a moment to take a bite from what remained of the trout he had in his right hand. Lucius turned his attention to Garth's brother, Imry. He was in the middle of a heated discussion with Sefton. "…Who wouldn't?! You deny it just because you miss your childhood home, but any sane person would choose to live in the bountiful lands of the Reach where wine abounds, women are lovely and people are lively, especially over those gloomy lands of yours. The people there are boorish, wine is scarce, and you must constantly worry about being attacked by the mountain clans, don't try to deny it, I've been there."

"Bah!" Sefton made a dismissive gesture with his hand. "You asked me where I would live if I could choose anywhere in the realm, and I answered, you don't have to share my choice. Also, there isn't any mountain clan in The Paps." Sefton's face was reddened by wine, the cheap prices in Harrenhal hadn't helped Lucius' drunkard new friend to reign in his compulsion for wine.

The brothers were free riders from Oldtown. They claimed their father was the greatest stonemason in the city. They were the fourth and fifth sons, so their father gifted them a weapon, armour, and a horse and bid them to make their fortune. They had joined Lucius' group six days past.

Lucius' attention then shifted to the two men who were not speaking. One was Ferret, who had eaten the first trout so fast he was already beginning another, he was sitting next to Ben, pretending not to be paying attention to Garth's story, a task at which he failed miserably since he stopped his frenzied eating every time the story took a shocking or unexpected turn.

The other was Tommard, he sat next to Lucius, he was picking all the little spines that remained in the trout before taking every bite. In the three days, Tommard had spent with their group Lucius concluded he was not all there. They hadn't had another choice but to accept him though, it was the last day in which the inscriptions were open, so they took in the first man they found, which, unfortunately, was Tommard.

Tommard finished his careful picking and after a quick inspection took a bite. While moving the trout to his mouth the chain on his wrist clanked. It was a strange chain, two of the links were forged from red gold while the other three were made of silver. Sefton had told Lucius the links represented knowledge in an area of study. That Tommard had links at all, Sefton told him, meant that he had gone to the Citadel in Oldtown. The red gold signified knowledge in the matters of money, while the silver signified knowledge in healing, the matters of the human body and medicine. This meant that Tommard could at least prove himself somewhat useful if any of them was injured during the tournament.

While he ate Tommard looked at Harrenhal, and soon Lucius found himself watching the monstrosity too. They were a mile away from there, Sefton had convinced them that it was better not to be so close to the other tents of the richer knights and camps of poor knights and smallfolk, they made too much noise, and they wouldn't be able to sleep properly, he had said. He had been correct; Lucius could hear the ruckus coming from the camps.

But it wasn't the sound coming from there that caught Lucius' attention, it was the castle itself, looming over them like a giant, even though they were far away. Lucius hadn't seen a structure as big as that castle in all his life. The melted towers gave it an ominous presence. Lucius imagined that assaulting the fully garrisoned castle in all its splendour would be a daunting task.

"Is it true?" He asked Tommard without taking his eyes off the giant melted towers. "Did Aegon the conqueror mount a giant beast that breath fire? I had doubted it, but I can't begin to imagine what could melt stone like that."

Tommard snickered. "What did you doubt? That Aegon had a dragon?" He asked.

"No. That such creatures could exist." He turned to Tommard. "There was no creature like that where I'm from." He told him.

"There are no creatures like that anywhere nowadays. It's better for everyone that way I suppose. They brought nothing to the world but destruction." Tommard said staring at the stars for a moment and then turning back towards the melted towers. "But to answer your question, yes, it is true. Aegon and his sisters mounted dragons, and with them, they conquered The Seven Kingdoms. The kings of The Westerlands and The Reach joined forces to fight him after Aegon burned Harrenhal and subdued The Stormlands."

He paused to take another bite from the trout and drank some wine before continuing. "They had five times more men than the conqueror, it didn't matter much, Aegon and his sisters mounted their dragons, burned everything around the army of the two kings and then burned the army itself." Tommard slowly shook his head. "The swords of the defeated now are part of the Iron Throne."

"What happened to them? To the dragons." Lucius asked, it was the first time since he arrived in this land that he found someone capable and willing to answer his questions.

Tommard took another bite and shrugged. "Whatever happens to everything eventually, they all died. If you want to know how they died…" Tommard paused for a moment and waited until Lucius nodded. "The last dragon died more than a century ago, after the Dance the only dragons left were the size of cats, none of them outlived Aegon III." He leaned towards Lucius in a conspiratorial manner. "I heard King Aegon poisoned the last dragons; he was afraid of them. One of them ate his mother." Tommard whispered.

"What is the dance?" Lucius asked him.

Tommard clicked his tongue. "Do you want me to tell you stories all night? What Am I? Your nanny? Stop asking me useless questions and focus on the trout. Look." He pointed at the trout Lucius was cooking. "You burned them." Tommard shook his head.

Lucius looked at the trout and sighed. He had burned them.

The rest of the night Lucius kept to himself and focused on cooking the trout. He tried to imagine what a dragon looked like, but for some reason, his mind kept going to a giant bird made of fire.

Hours passed and the banter died down and the fire extinguished, one by one his companions went to sleep until Lucius was the only one awake, alone with the ruckus coming from the camps and tents outside of Harrenhal. It was he who had the first turn taking watch that night.

He spent the time looking at the melted towers of Harrenhal, standing tall like giant candles of stone. He imagined Aegon on his dragon burning the castle. It must have been quite the sight. Finally, his time was up, he woke up Ben and went to sleep. In four days, the tournament would begin. It was Lucius' chance to win some gold and renown in this land, and he intended to seize it.

 

[Marcooooo]

Ben​

"It is hardly fair," Ferret whined while Ben put his mail armour on, Lucius was weighing the tourney sword that was given to participants in his hand. "Well, just be glad we are allowed to join at all, it matters few if we have to do a little more fights." Lucius retorted.

"Matters little, do a few more." Sefton corrected Lucius with a sigh from the other side of the tent they had been given. Sefton was wearing his knightly armour and he made for an impressive sight, it even had crabs engraved on the shoulders signifying the knight's sigil. He was the only one wearing proper armour in their group. Lucius wore worn leather armour, and so did Ferret, although Ferret's was full of tears and with a few holes. They had had to pool money to buy the little thief something resembling armour, but nobody particularly liked him and all of them were short of coin so that cheap piece of leather that could be barely called armour was all they were able to get him.

"I do agree with our small friend on this, we will be overly tired by the time we face real resistance, we are clearly disfavored by this arrangement," Garth said. He and his brother Imry were wearing fine grey gambesons, a white tower with a green flame on top embroidered on their hearts, denoting the ruling house of their hometown.

They were of course arguing about the way the tourney had been organized, it had been decided that because of the large amount of smallfolk, participating teams that were not made entirely of knights or lords would have to fight amongst themselves to classify before joining the actual competition. There would be a great melee in which all these teams would fight simultaneously until there were only participants from three teams standing. Those teams would then join the other thirteen teams that were fully made of knights or lords.

Then the sixteen teams would face each other one team against another, the winner would go on to the next match where they would face another victorious team until only one was left. Then finally the seven members of the team would face each other simultaneously until only one was standing, and that man would be the winner of the melee.

It all didn't matter much to Ben, even if they made it out of the smallfolk melee, he was sure this team wouldn't make it past the first team of decent knights, they would be quickly defeated. One look at old Tommard wearing leather armour older than himself was enough to banish any hope Ben had of the team having a good performance in the tourney.

"Enough of this grovelling to circumstances, things are as they are." Lucius scolded them, Sefton nodded stoically before taking a sip from his wine sack, Lucius frowned at him but said nothing.

Suddenly a man came into their tent. "Ser," He acknowledged Sefton. "We will start in a few minutes, please come to the arena." He said and quickly left. Lucius took a long sip from his own wine sack, although his was filled with water, Ben knew.

Ser Sefton left first followed by Lucius and then by the rest of them, they walked for a while until finally, they entered the arena. There must have been at least twenty teams in the arena, there were more than a hundred men in the giant circle of dirt. The stalls reserved for the lords and ladies of the realm were filled with well-dressed men and women of high standing, the chairs in which they sat looked very comfortable and each one had shields painted with the sigil of the house of the lord or lady to each side of them.

In contrast, the stalls for the smallfolk were just wooden platforms in which they sat, their backs touching the legs of the ones in the stall above. The smallfolk cheered the teams as they entered the arena while the lords and ladies graciously clapped. The smell of wine permeated the arena, it seemed to flow like it was water in the throats of smallfolk and lords alike, although for some from cups of wood and others from cups of gold and silver. There were many teams in the arena, which formed a circle. The cheering from the crowds was a bit overwhelming for Ben. What if he fucked up? There were countless eyes in the arena, many on him, likely due to his large stature, he was the tallest man in the arena at least by half a head.

He felt a pat on his back and looked to his side where his eyes met Lucius'. "It will be fine," Lucius said, or at least Ben thought so, he couldn't quite hear him so he had read his lips. Ben nodded and smiled back, although not quite as confidently as his friend. "Stay together! And don't go far!" Ben heard Ser Sefton roar at them while looking forward. Again Ben nodded, although he wasn't sure anyone had seen him nod, everyone seemed to be looking forward, focused.

He looked at his tourney sword, it looked small in his hand. Then he looked up and saw a man in the middle of the arena, the cheering stopped and the man began talking, but his voice sounded far away to Ben. He couldn't quite hear him as his breath seemed to quicken, it took a moment for him to recognize he was scared, and once he did he only got more scared. He looked to his side again, Lucius was looking forward at the man talking. Then to his other side, Ser Sefton had his eyes closed and was muttering something under his breath. Ben looked down, at the dirty ground and took a deep breath. Suddenly the crowd broke into cheers once again. The speech must've ended, he looked up, and a few seconds later a horn sounded, and Ben saw hundred of men charge at each other, for a moment he was terrified and stood still, but then he felt a push from behind and stumbled forward.

Ser Sefton led the group, the not-so-young knight walked forward at a quick pace, but without running, Lucius followed closely, almost beside him, and the rest after them. Almost like an arrow, Ben thought of the shape of their formation. Before they had begun engaging in combat Ben heard the crushing sound of the battle of the first teams that had charged at each other, the crunching noise of broken wooden shields and probably a few bones heralded what would happen to him.

Suddenly two men appeared before him and wildly swung their swords at him, he easily parried on strike with his shield and then took a step backwards avoiding the other. Their wild attacks would have seemed dangerous if he had not been practising for years with Lucius. He parried and dodged. Parried and sidestepped. They were like children, in a technical sense of how they wagged their swords around without care or thought, and in a more physical sense in their size comparison to Ben.

After a minute or so of parrying and avoiding their strikes, Ben realized they were far below the ability they had expected them to have, he took a good look at them while he parried and eluded their strikes. Their armours were as bad if not worse as the almost destroyed leather armour Ferret wore. One was as old as Tommard and the other only a few years older than Ben. He suddenly gained some hope, and with it some confidence, he parried another strike, only this time instead of keeping going backwards he lunged forward and struck the old man in the face with his shield, he felt a crunchy noise coming from the other side of it. The younger one screamed and swung his blade at Ben, for it only to be parried by Ben's sword. He turned and kicked the young man in the chest, throwing him on his back.

The old man was moving but seemed unable to stand up, so Ben placed the tip of his sword on the young man's neck, it took the man only a second for his angry scowl to turn into a grimace of acceptance and throw his sword at Ben's feet, shielding. Ben walked towards the old man and kicked his sword away from him, at which time his younger friend came and dragged him towards the rim of the arena where they would be safe from being stomped by the fighting men.

Ben looked upwards and realized he was alone, he looked around him and saw fierce fighting but none of those fighting were his friends and teammates. He heard steps coming quickly towards him from behind and turned around quickly enough to block the coming strike with his shield, another strike came quickly and he barely avoided it by stepping backwards, he couldn't get a good look at his enemy because he launched forward again making Ben walk backwards while he barely parried another strike.

His opponent was suddenly attacked from the side by another man who was quickly disarmed and kicked to the ground by him. Ben took advantage of the opportunity to regain his footing and take a good look at his opponent. He wore leather and chainmail, had pink hair and a scarlet beard, which was embroidered by three iron rings. The man looked fierce and carried a bastard tourney sword instead of the short sword Ben had been given, although he didn't have a shield.

Ben charged at him, the man was tall, but Ben was a head taller. He swung at his head but the pink-haired warrior simply parried and counterattacked, Ben blocked with his shield and charged forward, hoping to imbalance him. He succeeded but he hadn't won yet. Now he was the one in the offensive, he struck once and again and the scarlet-bearded beast parried once and again. Ben charged again with his shield forward hoping to throw the warrior on his back, but the warrior simply sidestepped him.

Ben turned around; he had lost his advantage. They walked slowly in a circle bot waiting for an opening. Suddenly his opponent looked slightly behind him. Ben half turned expecting an opponent attempting to attack him from behind when he realized there was nothing there. In a panic, he turned again to the warrior and raised his shield to block, when he felt pain across his shield arm. His shield had been torn from his hand.

His opponent began a flurry of strikes, swings and stabs which was hard for Ben to keep up with, he was on his back foot. He was hit on the side of his arm, and then on his shoulder. He had to make a conscious effort not to scream in pain. Ben's parries started to be a little late, only half a second but it was enough to exacerbate the pink-beard's advantage.

The man struck Ben's sword and opened his guard and was about to strike him when a knight in full armour crashed into the warrior, shoulder first, and sent him to the ground. The knight put his foot on the man's sword and his sword on the man's neck. The pink-beard grunted or more like growled before letting go of his sword.

Suddenly sensations he hadn't known he had been feeling struck Ben. He heard the cheering of the crowd, the stench of sweat had replaced the sweet smell of wine and a cloud of dust could be seen all around him. He heard Sefton too, his voice coming from the knight that had just rescued him. "Ben! Ben!" He was screaming at him, for a moment he thought he had been deadly injured but then he realized the knight was laughing. "We did it Ben! Look around!" Sefton shouted as a joyous grin adorned his face.

Ben looked around, most of his teammates were still standing, only Tommard was sitting on the side of the arena, and only five other men were standing, four from one team, he assumed, as they were hugging each other and jumping around, another one alone bowing towards the cheering crowd of smallfolk and the laughing and smiling crowd of lords.

Ben threw himself flat on his ass, which hurt more than he thought it would. Well, that wasn't as fun as he had expected, he thought while gazing towards the sky. Still, he allowed himself to smile, they had won.

 

[jctherebel]

So very happy to see more of this story!

 

[Nuitblanche]

Damn, totally forgot about this story, glad it is back.

 

[Revan Skirata]

Glad to get more of this story. Our protagonists have made their first big step up on their path to glory. Can't wait to get some more Aurelian action. A soldier with 40 years of near constant combat experience in the body of a young man is going to be quite the capable warrior.

 

[Marcooooo]

Sefton Woodhull​

He was looking at the stars through the window while taking a sip from his wine sack, they had come back from the feast a few hours ago and had decided to have a private celebration. Next to him, Tommard was sitting on the floor, applying some paste he had been preparing for hours to Imry's bruises, he had many, on his right arm and shoulder, on his back and his stomach. Imry remained silent, but Sefton could guess it hurt, all his muscles were tense.

Garth was sitting on the table with his feet on the chair playing his lute to a cheerful tone. "A bear there was, a bear, a bear..." Garth sang along with Ben who cheerfully moved his mug full of ale to the tune of the song, spilling some of it on the floor around where sat. Ferret was leaning on the door while holding a book and staring at its contents, Sefton gathered the man had probably never seen a book in his life. Lucius sat on the bed, disapprovingly looking at the spilt ale on the floor, it made sense since it was his room after all.

All of them were wearing fine clothes given to them by Lord Whent, he had been a great host and incredibly thoughtful, Sefton couldn't quite believe the man had invited the likes of his team into his castle while he hosted lords from all over the realm. Lord Whent even had sent servants to help them carry their possessions to the castle, it seemed that being moderately successful in a tourney as grand as this had its advantages.

Sefton looked back towards the window, feeling the nightly air upon his face, from here he could see the thousands of tents and bonfires surrounding the castle, if he didn't know any better he would think Harrenhal was being besieged. After having won three fights they had been invited to stay in the castle. They even were allowed to join the feast, although they had been mostly ignored and were seated on the edges of the hall, it didn't matter much, everyone had enjoyed the lavish food they had been served. Sefton especially appreciated the quality of the wine, he had tasted two kinds of Dornish reds, Arbor gold, there had been spiced honey wine from Lannisport, and Sefton's favourite, blackberry wine from the Vale, which tasted of home.

They only had one fight ahead of them, they had fought three teams during the day and bested them despite everyone's expectations. Ferret had proven to be quick and cunning. Ben was strong and although he hadn't won any duel on his own, he could hold his ground long enough for another to defeat their opponent and come to help. Imry and Garth were capable fighters, they were no heroes of legend to be sure but good enough, they fought well together and avoided duels, they had bested good knights fighting two on two. Tommard was a bit old, grey was beginning to show on his otherwise red hair, and not the strongest or most cunning of warriors by any measure, but he contributed in other ways to the team, the last match he had pointed out to Sefton what he had recognized to be a past injury on an old Mormont left leg.

That had been the last match, Sefton charged at the Mormont and defeated him in a matter of a few seconds, he then helped Ben to quickly dispatch his opponent, and in less than a minute it had turned into a seven against five, they easily won. Sefton couldn't claim all the credit for their fortune though, it was Lucius who had turned the two previous matches in their favour. In the first one he had bested the knight in front of him with three fiercely quick strikes, helped the brothers beat their opponents and in less than a minute turned the match into a seven against four. In the second match, Tommard had been quickly defeated, the knight who did it attacked Imry from behind and took him down with fierce strikes, Lucius defeated his opponent and took on the burden of fighting the two knights who had been fighting the brothers alone while Garth fought the knight who had defeated Tommard, Lucius held on long enough for Sefton to defeat Ser Buckwell and come to his help.

All in all, it had been a long day, but tomorrow would be a day of rest, which meant it wouldn't hurt for him to take another sip of the good Dornish red on his wine sack. He followed his thought with swift action and took a good gulp of wine.

"There," Tommard said while dusting off his hands. "Come see me tomorrow and I'll apply another mix, you'll be as good as new for the match," Tommard told Imry and stood up, going towards Garth and taking away the chair from under his feet.

"I called for a knight but you are a… Hey!" Garth complained while losing his balance and falling on his feet, interrupting the singing and music. Tommard just shrugged before positioning the chair away from Garth and sitting on it. "I'm too old to be sitting on the floor for too long, you got your sit, don't be greedy." Tommard lectured while balancing on his newly acquired chair, taking herbs from his pocket and chewing it.

Garth glared at him for a moment, but at the insistence of Ben resuming the singing after using the interruption to take a long gulp from his ale, Garth conceded and began playing and singing again.

"What are you thinking about so much?" Imry's voice turned Sefton's attention towards him. "Nothing much, a man can't do much thinking with this much wine in his belly" He laughingly replied. "What a feast" Imry nodded, "I hadn't eaten that well, neither in quantity nor in quality, in all my life," He told Sefton.

Sefton laughed. "None in this room had, I'd wager if I were a waging man." He said, "although I can't say my meals lacked in quality while I lived in The Paps. The cook in the keep would prepare buttered crab with garlic you wouldn't imagine." He commented.

Imry raised an eyebrow. "You grew up in a castle?" He asked. Sefton furrowed his brow, he must've drank more than he had thought if he was talking about his childhood with men he met a few days past and hardly knew.

"Nay." He replied, "my Ser father was a landed knight in The Paps, seven bless him, our family boasts a small but beautiful keep. My brother has ruled it since my father's death." He told Imry who remained in silence for a moment before staring at him with a look of realization. "Why have you been roaming the realm for so long then, if there is a home you can return to?" Imry asked him.

"Bah! I'm a knight and knightly life is the only life I wish to know, I have seen many great sights and lived many adventures, there is no home but the never-ending roads for me." He shut down his inquiring friend before the conversation advanced further. "Anyways, you should try buttered crab someday, you'll see that if well prepared it has nothing to envy the foods in the lavish feast we just attended," Sefton told him, Imry nodded.

He stared at Imry for a moment before winking at him, at which Imry raised an eyebrow. He would get it. "Does that mush Tommard smeared all over you work at all?" Sefton asked him, raising his voice.

Imry seemed to be about to answer when a look of realization came to his face, and he turned to Tommard who had stopped balancing in the chair and was staring at Sefton. For a moment there was silence. "Of course it works! You plain-headed oaf! You dullard! Ignoramus! You simpleton with a wine-fermented brain attempt at a knight! Don't you doubt my knowledge!" Tommard shouted at Sefton from across the room, spitting his chewing herb all over Ben's hair while waving his finger menacingly at Sefton. Ben's face was filled with disgust while he was trying to clean the spit-wet herb from his hair by rubbing his hand on it. At which Sefton and Imry burst out laughing, which didn't help to calm Tommard's temper. He kept barraging Imry and him with insults for at least ten minutes, making Sefton laugh even harder, he didn't know exactly when, but eventually everyone except for Tommard and Ben was laughing.

Tommard's ire continued to increase until he stood up and threw the chair at Sefton, who attempted to catch it, which proved to be much too difficult for the state of drunkenness he found himself into. The chair hit Sefton in the leg and Tommard stormed out of the room, even though his leg hurt Sefton couldn't stop laughing for some time. It took a while but in time everyone calmed down.

"I didn't take you to be so mischievous Ser, I would have guessed you were of a more serious nature." Imry prodded him. Sefton laughed. "I blame the wine, poor Tommard, he gets roused so easily." He joked.

"Mayhaps you shouldn't drink so much then if it compels you to act so unchivalrous." Imry mockingly chastised him. "Mayhaps." Sefton nodded with a smile. He threw his wine sack at Imry who caught it in the air and winked again. "You finish that then; I'll go to get some rest. You can return it some other time." Sefton said as he stood up. He bid everyone goodnight. He then went to Tommard's room to apologize but before he knocked on the door he heard the old man's snores. He smiled; old men needed their rest. He went directly to his room.

He took his boots and the fine clothes they had been given to attend the feast off and laid on his bed, covering himself with furs to keep warm. He stared at the ceiling for some time, he could feel the chilling wind coming from the window in his face. He was finally drifting into the realm of dreams when he was woken by a soft knock on his door, he slowly rose from the bed. Who could it be? "Come in." He spoke. The door opened and a figure entered the room, what a surprise.

 

[jctherebel]

Very cool update, can't wait for more!

 

[lolpancaker]

Nice i wonder who the visitor is

 

[Gremlin Jack]

After having won three fights they had been invited to stay in the castle.

Click to shrink...

Wait does that mean they have only one more opposing team to face? That team must be the one containing Bobby B, right? Or is there a separate mounted melee that Robert is in, and this is the foot melee? I forget the details, it's been a while.

 

[Marcooooo]

Lucius Domitius Aurelianus​

The setting sun warmed Lucius' face and the smell of the biggest lake he had ever seen soaked into his nose. The humid weather of the Riverlands reminded him of Rome. As he was looking towards the Gods' Eye, his eyes only saw water as far as his eyes could see, for a moment it was like he wasn't in the Seven Kingdoms at all, but rather in the Domus Flavia, he could almost hear his wife Ulpia reprimanding their daughter for some mischievousness or another. Sadly, this precious vision of the past didn't last, and Lucius was brought back to the shore of the enormous lake by the noises of the crowd of the nearing arena.

Next to him, his teammates were walking silently, all of them were tense and visibly nervous, which didn't bode well for their chances Lucius thought, nonetheless, it was understandable. Ben was barely a man grown, and Imry, Garth and Sefton were all around their early twenties, Tommard was the only one of an age from whom Lucius expected some semblance of tenacity and stoicism, but sadly he didn't have much experience on the vast world either, he had only been expelled from the Citadel a few years ago and he had spent all of his life inside it from a young age until his late thirties.

Lucius was calm, he understood as did his companions that this was an opportunity which could change their lives, but he also understood from his experience that not every opportunity would manifest into a success and there would always be more chances to earn wealth and renown if one knew how to properly spot them.

Every member of the winning team would gain a handsome reward. Enough for a horse and set of good armour each, Sefton had told him. The final winner of the melee would earn enough gold to raise a small keep, provide armour and weapons to a small group of knights, and still have enough to spare.

Sefton had been uncharacteristically sober the last two days, he also didn't seem very confident in their chances. "They are all warriors of great renown and skill, Lucius. Lord Yohn Royce is a proven warrior who fought in the War of the Ninepenny Kings, Lord Robert Baratheon is young but known for his strength and comes from an illustrious lineage of Warrior-Kings, Ser Nestor Royce is also young but he is said to be a skilled swordsman like few others, Ser Symond Templeton is a knight of great skill and has proven himself in various melees, Lord Dustan Melcom slain two Kingsguards of Maelys the Monstrous in battle, Ser Marq Grafton and his brother Ser Lyonel Grafton are both knights of great renown who have excelled in many tourneys, both in jousting and in melee. Each one of them a great knight in their own right. We don't stand a chance." His knightly friend had defeatedly told him.

None of the names meant much to Lucius, but he understood well enough, half of them veterans and the other half young warriors who had already begun to make a name for themselves. They made a stark contrast to their own group, which was made of a farmer, two sons of a mason, a failed Hippocrates, a thief, an unknown knight, and a roman. The roman wasn't so bad if he said so himself, Lucius thought.

They entered the arena and were received by a cheering crowd, on the other side their opponents entered at the same time as they. A wooden throne caught Lucius' attention, and on it sat a gaunt old man with mangled hair that extended to his waist and an unkept beard extending to his stomach, he had nails so long that for a moment Lucius thought it was a trick of the light. On his head rested a crown made of red gold, huge and heavy, each of its points a dragon head with gemstone eyes, identifying the man as King Aerys Targaryen. Lucius had met many Kings in his lifetime none impressed him much, and neither did this one.

He turned his attention to their opponents, all of them had beautifully crafted armours but one of them was made of bronze and carved with runes, not unlike the Germanic runes Lucius was somewhat familiar with.

A man with a strong and commanding voice presented both teams and recited their names. The King gave the command for the fighting to start with a wave of his hand and both teams began to approach one another slowly, there would be no charging this match, it appeared. Lucius walked towards the knight in bronze armour. He couldn't help a smile coming to his face, the tense feeling of a fight about to happen always got him in a good mood.

When Lucius finally encountered his bronze-clad opponent and struck a few blows the world slowed down and there wasn't anything else in it but his opponent and him, even the ground they stood in seemed to disappear. He stabbed and swung, sidestepped and dodged, and with no thoughts on his mind, he struck the knight on his wrist and his knee, he parried a strike with his shield and struck back on the knight's chest, but his armour was sturdy and Lucius' blade a dull tourney sword, it didn't matter how much he outmatched the man, nothing short of disarming the knight would work.

Their fight continued, for Lucius, it lasted both a second and an eternity. He eluded every strike, the knight swung hard, and it wouldn't take more than one good swing to bring Lucius down considering the shoddy leather armour he was wearing. The man was considerably older than Lucius, probably in his forties, but he kept up with the rhythm of their battle just fine. Lucius decided he couldn't tire the man and charged forward with a rain of strikes. When the knight tried to regain the initiative by striking back Lucius parried the strike and stepped forward, forcing the knight's blade down and pushing him with his shield, dropping him on his back. With a victorious smile on his face, Lucius rested the tip of his sword on the bronze knight's exposed neck, suddenly the world appeared again around Lucius, and the crowd cheered uncontrollably.

Lucius raised his eyes to see how his friends were faring only to be immediately disappointed, he was surrounded by his other six opponents. Disappointed but not exactly surprised, he raised his sword and threw it to the side of the knight he had just defeated who hadn't had the chance to yield.

"I yield," Lucius told them raising his hands in mock surrender. The bronze knight was helped up and given back his sword as Lucius walked to the side of the arena while applauding with the cheering crowd, if he had a toga he would have flapped, he wasn't discontent with his performance. The crowd cheered for a while after Lucius had left the arena. The seven knights stood in a circle and waited for the cheering to subside before restarting the fight.

Lucius sat next to Ben who was looking down. "Well, how was it?" He asked as he hit his shoulder. Ben sighed. "Lord Baratheon did short work of me, with two swings of his wooden hammer he threw my sword to the ground and meself shortly after," Ben answered.

Lucius waited for Sefton who was leaning on the wall of the arena and looking at the sky to correct Ben, but the knight remained silent, he had a solemn expression on his face, as if something terrible had just happened. So, Lucius took to the task himself. "Myself." Lucius corrected him with a smile. Ben only sighed.

"What now Lucius? We'll have to go back to father's farm, there won't be another tourney anytime soon I don't think. Mother will be unbearable, 'I told you so Ben' she will say 'You are no warrior' she will say." Ben said mimicking his mother's voice.

Lucius waved the boy's worries away. "We will be fine. There is always a need for men with swords and willing to use them somewhere." He told Ben.

"But we have no armour, we won't be able to buy horses either." Ben retorted. "Well, we will have to fight afoot then, won't we?" Lucius asked sarcastically.

While they discussed five knights had already been defeated, and only two were standing, the one with the bronze armour and another with yellow armour wielding a wooden war-hammer. They fought for some time until the bronze knight found a gap in the Baratheon's guard and struck his hand making the latter drop his hammer and then yield. The crowd cheered and the announcer declared Lord Yohn Royce the winner of the melee. There was much fanfare and after the cheers of the crowd the King personally congratulated Lord Royce.

Lucius' deflated team returned to their rooms in Harrenhal to gather their belongings, they probably wouldn't be welcomed for much longer, as they returned, and the sun set, light rain began to fall on the Riverlands. As Lucius prepared his sword, armour and other items to leave when requested he heard a knock on the door. The time had come sooner than he had expected. He opened the door.

"Lucius?" The man at his door asked. "The very same." Lucius smiled at him, he had enjoyed his stay and the lavish food and so he had no intention of being unpleasant when he was no longer welcomed. "Prince Rhaegar Targaryen extends an invitation to join him at tonight's banquet as his guest of honour. You will be given appropriate garments if you so wish to accept the Prince of Dragonstone invitation" The man declared. Lucius almost raised an eyebrow at the expected man bringing an unexpected declaration, but he quickly composed himself.

"Of course. Please inform the Prince of Dragonstone that I shall attend. I'll change as soon as you bring me the garments." Lucius told the man. The man nodded and took a step to his side, from behind him emerged a host of maids carrying water soap and many different attires. "That would be it, the maids will wash the stench of battle away for you." He stated. "I have selected the following outfits for you to choose from, they are all the latest fashion in the court." The man said before closing the door and leaving the surprised Lucius in his room now full of maids bustling like bees carrying their assigned work.

 

[jctherebel]

Awesome chapter! What could the Prince want with Lucius I wonder?

 

[Revan Skirata]

Although he didn't win, Lucius did beat the man who ended up winning the tournament. I know very little about this fantasy's lore, but considering his poor equipment and his youth it's bound to raise some eyebrows. I have a feeling Aurelian is about to be offered a job. Hopefully Ben is able to come along with him.

 

[Nuitblanche]

Lord Royce is no joke on the battlefield, Lucius is sure to have impressed a lot of people, the Prince included it seems.