Hornwood, the North,
The distance between Ramsgate and Hornwood wasn't a lot. But since there was no solid road established between them, the journey wasn't smooth. Still, Wylis' carriages were helpful, their suspension providing much relief to Ashara and Arthria as they journeyed with him.
He, with twenty men-at-arms, and Chett, rode on horseback. It was still a whole day-long journey, however.
"See that the men take no wine offered. We're here for work, not feasting. When we're home and off duty, they may do as they please. But here, no drink and no whores. Is that clear?" Wylis ordered, taking his budding army seriously.
Chett nodded, "I've warned them, my lord. I will repeat it once we arrive."
With a nod, Wylis urged Caliburn to trot faster. There were many things on his mind. He'd personally made the bastard sword for Lord Hornwood; it was beautiful, oil-quenched, oxidized in a controlled manner. It held a matte black sheen with repeating patterns.
Now, he hoped the man would be willing to sell him the lands he wanted. He didn't like that he needed to take all the gold, as that increased the possibility of failure.
And then there was that prophecy Chett informed him about. To all, it was nonsense, but he took it seriously. It was true, after all. The trajectory Tyrant's Squire had set for him would one day make the realm kneel to him. And his body possessed the blood of the giants, which was a rumor. And then there was ice and fire mentioned. Once Chett uttered that, he took the prophecy seriously.
However, there was nothing he could do. He'd already learned of the Others rising, so the prophecy mattered not.
As Caliburn carried him, he stared at the Tyrant's Squire's blue screen. He had a few titles whose rewards, once stacked, could help him. 'The Northern Sword' gave him a greater influence in the North, respect, fear, and awe. 'Tyrant's Games' made his lies ten percent more believable. 'Tyrant of the Trident' gave him more status. 'The Kingmaker' title gave his name, actions, and words more weight, no matter where he was. 'The Kingslayer' made nobles fear him.
Hope Politics Mastery helps.
"My lord, we can see the castle."
Wylis focused ahead on the road. They had crossed the Hornwood forest and arrived at the northwestern edge of Sheepshead Hills. The Hornwood castle was nothing to awe, just a stone castle with surrounding stone and timber walls. There was a town outside the castle, but it was better suited to be called a village instead. The houses had thatched roofs, rotting wooden walls, and some were even crumbling. The road passing through the town was muddy beyond belief.
[Annoyance.]
So muddy that even Caliburn complained. After all, the big boy didn't want his new Valyrian steel horseshoes to get dirty. That was what Wylis thought.
Since the castle sat on the hill, it had a wide view of its surroundings. But it was surrounded by trees on three sides, so the view wasn't that great either.
"Gates!"
Hornwood guards went into action as soon as his entourage approached the castle gates. There was no moat, just a metal portcullis and wooden, reinforced doors.
Wylis didn't have to stop once. His house sigil fluttered high, on the carriages and in the arms of his men at the lead. They crossed the castle walls and arrived at a rather wide courtyard. Still muddy, but at least clean and lacking stench.
Armors' shining.
He noticed that the Hornwood soldiers' armor was shining. Although the armor was limited to helmets and pauldrons, the rest was chainmail and leather. The North wasn't big into full-plated armor; it was too expensive and impractical in the muddy, snowy grounds of the North.
Wylis' soldiers had fine armor, however. Shining silver, helmets, chainmail, breastplates, pauldrons, gauntlets, and more. He was preparing them for a different frontier, after all.
Moments later, Chett led him to the castle's entrance. He stopped once he arrived in front of a small lineup. Lord Halys Hornwood was a tall northern man with raven hair and an ever-laughing face. Dressed in simple robes and a fur cloak. Then there was Lady Donella Manderly, slightly chubby, with dark brown hair and raven eyes. She was a head shorter than her husband. Beside her was a little boy, three or four years old.
Wylis got off his horse and greeted the lord. First, it was a simple handshake, but then the jovial man pulled him in an awkward embrace. His frame was too big to be hugged like that. But he didn't mind; it was good for him.
"My lady," he then kissed Donella Manderly's hand, adding a few words to her beauty. Daryn, the heir to Hornwood, was gawking at his massive frame, pulling away from his mother in fright. But then Wylis laughed and pulled out a tactical candy from his cloak.
Finally, he hugged Benjen, who'd come to Hornwood early to plan for his visit. After that was the castle's Maester, Medrick. The old man didn't seem to like him much, noticeable by the cold greeting.
"And this beauty is my woman, my paramour, my love, Ashara Dayne." Wylis introduced Ashara after that. "And this little lady is my daughter, Arthria."
"I'm Arthria." Arthria gave a cute bow, holding the hem of her lavish skirt. "Thank you… umm… inviting us."
Ah! My giant heart.
Wylis nearly giggled like a maiden seeing his almost three-year-old daughter speak. He reckoned Ashara had told her to do this, and she almost nailed it. And seeing how Lord and Lady Hornwood were reacting, they were in awe of her cuteness as well. Arthria was by far the most charming child he had personally seen, and that was true for the realm.
"My Gods! Hello, little lady." Lord Halys knelt and greeted Arthria like a lady. "Welcome to Hornwood."
"Thank you." She chirped, gifting a smile that melted hearts.
"I see both your resemblance in her, my lord, my lady," Donella said. "Please, let us go inside. We have prepared a modest feast for this evening."
Wylis, a little protective and aware of all the eyes on Arthria, lifted her in his arms. "Please, lead us in."
He gave a nod to Chett while passing, reminding his squire to keep the men in line. He had Ashara and Benjen to help him inside the castle in the meantime. Both of them knew why they were there.
The visit was planned to last three nights, so Wylis didn't bother raising the topic that night. He just sat with Lord Halys, met with lesser nobles of his lands, and feasted. He listened to Lord Halys tell tales, then he did the same.
Sometime in the middle of their talks, they found a common ground. Both of them disliked the Boltons. Halys had more reason because he shared a border with the Boltons. And Halys also knew of what Boltons had tried in Ramsgate before.
"As they say, my lord. You can choose your friends, but not your neighbours," Wylis said, the feast reaching its end, his cup of ale empty. "I'm troubled even when we're not neighbours. I can't imagine your difficulties."
"Damn them all. Hah, fools, every last one. I know their kind, their ambitions," Lord Halys drunkenly rumbled. "Bah, enough o' that now. What can I do for you, m'lord? Benjen said ye came speakin' o' trade? Hah, what's a little man wi' some timber to offer, eh? Still… I'll do what I can, that I swear."
Wylis silently listened to him, rambling and slurring drunkenly. By now, he had a grasp on Lord Halys' personality. The man was friendly, jovial, and easygoing. A bit too accommodating, even. Always asking what he can do. That almost made Wylis feel bad about what he was doing. But then he reminded himself that this was a fair trade. A Valyrian steel sword was worth castles. Besides, once he'd have the Resource Map, he'd help some Northern lords, and Hornwood would be in that list.
"Aye? Heh… damn my cursed luck. My Father kept me from marchin' south in the rebellion. Heard tales o' the Tyrant o' the Trident… an' now I've seen him." He lifted his cup with a wobble. "Drink wi' me, m'lord. To the Tyrant o' the Trident!"
Wylis did that, raised his cup high.
Thud!
Lord Halys downed the entire cup and fell face-first on the table, snoring. The nearby lesser nobles howled in laughter at that, raised their glass and started singing something.
Wylis maintained a smile and drank his cup as well. Ashara was already gone, having taken Arthria to sleep. So, he looked to his side, at Benjen.
"Follow me."
With the creak of his chair, he got up, still smiling towards the nobles. He waved his hand and walked out of the great hall, heading towards his bedchamber. As soon as the loudness was left behind, his smile vanished into a cold stillness, his eyes turned steely serious.
He spoke nothing, arms behind his back. After knocking once, he walked inside the bedchamber. Ashara was combing her hair, having changed into a modest nightdress. Athria was asleep in an extra bed nearby. He dared not leave his daughter alone in another room.
Wylis waited, letting Benjen enter behind him. Once he heard the door shut, he poured himself a cup of water and drank it.
Crash!
"Bastards!" He threw the cup with a suppressed shout, "How dare they! Ashara, did you drink this water?"
"I-I did… What happened, Wylis?"
His jaw tightened, gaze falling on Arthria. "Her?"
"No, she fell asleep during the feast."
He exhaled to that and looked at Benjen. "I was poisoned at the feast."
It was heartwarming seeing both Benjen and Ashara rush towards him and hold his arms as if scared he'd fall.
"Don't trouble yourselves. Poison won't take me, you both know that. It's not the water, it's the cup. Tainted with a slow poison. A sip or two won't finish a man, but enough of it will. It wears you down, leaves you weak, easy prey for rot and sickness. We'd die in Ramsgate later, quiet as you please, and none would questioned it… If I hadn't seen through it."
Seeing Ashara was a little shaken by that, surely worried about Arthria, he held her by the shoulders and helped her sit on the bed.
"Why would Lord Hornwood do that?" Benjen asked. "He didn't strike me as such a man."
"Aye, he's likely not the one."
"Then who?" Benjen asked.
Wylis sighed, rubbing his face annoyedly. At that point, it felt like a curse. As much as Tyrant's Squire helped him, he always found trouble seeking him ever since he'd awakened the damn thing.
"What can you tell me about the maester, Benjen?"
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A/N: Hello guys. I'm looking for someone to write One-shots for me. Short 2-3k word chapters. 3 a week. Paid, of course. I got lots of ideas, but I can't write them all as I'm busy with the ongoing series. So, if you've read my works and feel your style is kinda similar, hit me up on my Discord. The trial will be paid as well.
Advance chapters on [PATREON] are in long-form format. I have 12 long chapters of this story on P@treon. That's equal to 45-50 Webnovel chapters.
Check out Solo Dacey Mormont & Wylis X Elia NSFW art, and advance chapters at [email protected]/MrPlotThickens Or Subscribestar.adult/mrplotthickens
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