Artys Arryn POV
I ain't no pervert everyone's got their dirty little searches they'd rather keep buried.
You know what I mean.
Doesn't make me one of those sick bastards who watch porn of all sorts daily. Their addiction has reached a point where they need a particular kind of video to you know... relax their little boy.
Enough of that crap.
I've got bigger shit to deal with right now. Two maps lay on the table by my bed, thanks to the celestial. I reached for them, itching to see the locations of mines and treasure.
But then I heard footsteps echoing outside.
I stuffed the maps under my pillow just as the door swung open. Two knights strode in: Ser Lyn Corbray and Ser Robar Royce, armed and grim.
Ser Lyn and Ser Robar were from my father's guard unit, now stuck watching me. Their houses sent them to kiss up to Jon Arryn and his heir, me.
Second sons, perfect for knighting and sucking up to the boss.
"Little lord, you should be resting," Lyn said, eyeing me like I might drop dead. "Grand Maester Pycelle's arriving any minute."
"I'm fine, Ser Lyn. The Seven decided I'm too damn stubborn to die," I shot back, smirking.
"Good to hear that, my lord," Lyn said. "I'll send word to your father about your recovery, but I insist you rest."
"Grand Maester Pycelle's here," Robar called from the door.
"Let him in," I said.
"Young lord, you should be in bed," Ser Robar piped up, stepping in behind Ser Lyn.
"No need, Ser. I'm as fit as you are," I said, waving him off.
Robar, though doubtful, let Pycelle have a look. The old prick's face twitched like he'd seen a ghost when he saw me. He hid it quickly, but I caught it and so did the other two knights.
"My lord, this Essosi disease is no joke," Pycelle said, holding up a vial of murky shit. "You need rest and take this medicine."
This old fuck's got some balls. He lied about my disease when I was poisoned, and now he's pushing more of his crap and the thing in his hand is probably poison too.
"No thanks, Grand Maester," I said, arms crossed. "I'm good. The Seven's got my back."
"My lord, I insist," Pycelle pushed, practically shoving the vial at me. "For your health."
My health? Bet that brother-fucking whore Cersei's behind this, itching to see me dead.
I don't have time for this bullshit. I need to go to Blackwater Rush for that Valyrian sword the celestial being promised and sort out my mother's family mess.
I mean, they are from Essos and are rich, and they must have slaves. As the celestial told me, the ones who are coming here to see me are the loyal servants of the family and are most probably slaves who have been taught nothing except to serve their master and the family from childhood.
Since the family is gone and I am the closest relative, they are coming here for me. That is likely the best reason they are coming here.
Though it's good news to have some loyal men but it's also a major problem for me.
Slavery is forbidden in Westeros. I will need to play the same trick as Daenerys free them. But being raised from childhood and taught only to serve their master, some may leave.
The rest who decide to stay? Food and shelter, that's their payment. They would be far better than those entitled employees I used to deal with in my past life, whining about raises and protected by dumb labor laws.
Here, I don't need to hold back—I can work them to the death. Survival will be their wage. No overtime pay or kind of bonus. That's for future. Lets deal with this old pervert.
"Fine, hand it over to me, Grand Maester," I said, snatching the vial. "I'll take it after lunch. Ser Lyn, let's go fishing at Blackwater Rush."
"But, my lord, your health?" Lyn asked.
For fuck's sake, I'm fine. The celestial healed me, even if he didn't say it. I feel better.
It's gonna be embarrassing, but I need to convince these two. I climbed onto my bed and started jumping. Clearly in better shape since for the past few months I hadn't even been able to get out of bed.
"See? I'm fine. Let's go to Blackwater Rush. It's been months since I've been there. If I feel sick, we'll come back."
"Grand Maester Pycelle, isn't there a small council meeting going on right now?" I said, glaring.
"Why don't you go and tell my father the good news about my recovery, that the Seven have shown mercy on me, and also inform him that I'm heading to Blackwater Rush with Ser Lyn and Ser Robar and the rest of the guards."
"Yes, my lord," Pycelle muttered, scurrying off like the rat he is." But-"
"Ser Lyn, let's go. Grand Maester Pycelle will inform my father about us going to Blackwater Rush, and if I don't feel well, we'll come back."
Lyn and Robar exchanged glances, then looked at me and Pycelle.
"Grand Maester, please inform Lord Arryn about the young lord's visit to Blackwater Rush," Robar said.
"I will, ser," Pycelle said. "My lord, please don't forget to take your medicine after lunch, even if you've recovered. Just for safety."
"Alright, Grand Maester," I said. "Now let's all get moving."
~~~Half an hour later, on the streets of king's Landing.~~~
This city smells like shit.
Robert's a hell of a warrior, but as a king, he's dumber than the boar that'll kill him.
Hope I get to Blackwater Rush before I lose my shot at that sword.
Twenty Arryn guards and I rode hard, our horses kicking up dust. I've no patience for those palanquins the royals and nobles like to use. Those are slow, pompous, and useless. Horses are faster.
Then I spotted knights approaching, banners flapping—House Royce. We stopped, seeing another group from the Vale too.
"Ser Robar, what're your house's bannermen doing in King's Landing?" I asked, squinting.
"No clue, my lord," Robar said, looking as lost as me. "Let's find out."
We met up with them, and there was Yohn Royce, Lord of Runestone, Robar's father, and a few other Royce knights.
"Father, what brings you here?" Robar asked, still on horseback.
"Princess Myrcella's nameday tourney," Yohn Royce said with a smile as he finally saw his son after years apart. "How've you been in King's Landing? I trust all's well. You've been serving Lord Arryn properly, haven't you, son?"
Robar gestured at me. "This is Young Lord Artys Arryn, eldest son of Lord Arryn."
The Vale's got loyalty, even if we ain't as blessed as the Starks.
But loyalty? That's better than the rest of the kingdoms second only to the Starks. If these guys follow that whore Lysa in the show, they'll follow me too.
"Lord Royce, good to meet you," I said, playing nice. "Been a while, huh? Last time you saw me, I was a baby at the rebellion's end."
"My lord, I still remember the last time I saw you you were an infant, and those were dark days, the rebellion," Yohn said, his eyes distant.
I'd have to play this right he's a big fish for my plans to run the Vale. I need him on my side to build relations. "You here for my father?" I asked.
"Aye, that's my first stop," Yohn replied, his eyes running over me. Maybe he was impressed by my looks. I do look almost a Targaryen, after all. The only thing that sets me apart is my left eye, which is blue instead of violet.
"Father's stuck in the small council," I said, leaning forward. "Why don't you join us down at the Blackwater Rush? We're going fishing. We've got plenty of time before he's free."
"I agree, father Lord Arryn's in the small council. He won't be free soon. Why not join us?" Ser Robar joined the conversation.
Yohn nodded. "No harm in that."
Jackpot. If he's with me when I get that Valyrian sword from the smugglers, he'll be a damn good witness and make it easier to explain. But the thought of smugglers having something as valuable as a Valyrian steel sword... I'd like to know what kind of story the celestial cooked up to explain the origin of the sword.
We rode on to Blackwater Rush, my blood pumping for what's next.