CHAPTER 04: Tavern Rumors
Adam awoke the next morning feeling like a new man. The exhaustion was gone, his body was refreshed, and his Haki reserves were full again, this time with a new daily limit of twenty uses per type. He had won. He had leveled up. He was a Beginner Haki user, and the world was his oyster. He was a walking, talking cheat code in the most dangerous fantasy world he could imagine.
He left the Kingswood, now a seasoned survivor, a man with a new purpose. He found a dirt road, well-traveled and leading to a small village. He was heading towards a roadside inn, a place to rest, to eat, and to gather information. He needed to know what was happening in the world. He needed to know if the plot was still on track. He needed to know if Robert's hunt had happened yet.
He entered the inn, a small, cozy place with a roaring fire and the smell of roasted meat. It was a stark contrast to the cold, damp forest he had just left. He sat at a small table in a corner, his back to the wall, his eyes and ears open. He ordered a plate of food and a cup of ale, and he listened.
The inn was a hub of activity, a constant buzz of gossip and rumors. He used his Beginner Observation Haki to listen, to feel the auras of the patrons, to detect the truth from the lies. He could feel the emotions, the intents, the subtle tells that separated a lie from the truth. The power was exhilarating. It was like having a personal polygraph in his head.
He heard them talking about the King. They were whispering, their voices low and filled with a mixture of fear and awe. They spoke of a great boar, a beast of epic proportions, and a King who was too drunk to fight it. They spoke of a Lannister squire, a boy named Lancel, who had given the King a wineskin full of wine that had been "spiked" with something to make him sleepier. They spoke of the King being gored, of a fatal wound, of a deathbed. The plot was on track. Robert was a dead man walking.
He felt the fear in their auras, the genuine sorrow for their King, but also the undertones of excitement, of a new era, a new King. He felt the lies, the subtle twists of the story, the rumors that were a product of fear and not of fact. He could feel it all. He was a god of information.
"Okay, so Robert's a goner. Lancel did the deed, just like in the show. This is it. The plot is happening. The stage is set. Ned's about to get the letter, and the entire thing is going to go to hell. I have to get to King's Landing. I have to get to Ned. I have to save him. The game is on, and I am a player."
He was in the middle of his food, a piece of roasted chicken, when he heard a man at the bar, a large, brutish man with a loud voice and a drunken swagger, start to talk about the Starks.
"The Starks, they say," the man slurred, his voice a bellow that filled the inn. "They say they're traitors. They say they're the ones that killed the King. They say they're in cahoots with the Wildlings, and that they're going to march on King's Landing with an army of dead men and wargs. The North is a land of monsters and traitors, and Ned Stark is their King."
The words were an abomination. Adam felt the man's aura. He was lying. He was just a drunken fool, repeating a rumor he had heard, a rumor that was a product of fear, a rumor that was a product of the Lannisters. Adam, in his Stiles persona, knew he couldn't let that stand. He had to be a hero. He had to be a chaos agent. He had to be a prankster.
He walked over to the bar, a calm, confident stride that belied his true age. "I heard that," he said, his voice low and steady. "And I think you're wrong."
The man, surprised, just stared at him. "And who are you, boy? Some Stark lover?"
"I'm a man who knows the truth," Adam said, a small smirk on his face. "And the truth is, the Starks are not traitors. They are not monsters. They are the guardians of the North, and they are the only ones who can save us from the real monsters. The ones with the blue eyes and the frozen hearts. The ones who bring the long night."
The man just stared at him, his mouth agape. The patrons of the inn, all of them now silent, just stared at him too. This was a man talking about something that was supposed to be a myth, a legend, a fairy tale.
Adam, seeing his opportunity, decided to go for the prank. "And I know this," he said, his voice now a low whisper. "Because I am the one who saw them. I saw the army of the dead. I saw the Night King. And I saw the man who will lead us against them. The man who will bring the fire. The man who will be the king. The man who will be the hero."
He then winked at the man at the bar and walked away, a ghost in the crowd. The man, now in a state of terror and confusion, just stared at the empty space where Adam had been standing. He then started to tell his story, a wild, drunken tale of a man who had seen the Night King, a tale that grew in exaggeration with every telling. The inn was now a hub of chaos, a mess of fighting and yelling, all because of a single, well-placed rumor.
Adam, now outside, just smiled. He had done it. He had caused a minor bit of chaos, he had spread a rumor, and he had planted a seed of doubt. The game was on. The Starks were not the enemy. The Night King was. He was a hero, a prankster, a chaos agent. He was a player, and the world was his game.