Chapter 4: A Heart-to-Heart Between Mother and Daughter
Knight Pell's voice was filled with pride. "My Lord, I command a hundred men as if they were my own fingers."
*Just a centurion,* Glyn scoffed inwardly, *and look how proud you are.*
In his past life, in games, he had easily commanded hundreds of thousands of troops.
Ah, but this was a real-life imperial age. It was different.
The perpetually turbulent Crackclaw Point was vast and sparsely populated. In terms of the scale of conflict, Crackclaw Point was indeed a "backwater land" and its inhabitants "country folk." The battles here were equivalent to gang fights.
They were all a bunch of fellows who had never seen a real battlefield. This was a problem.
Someone like Pell—a man who had fought for half his life and possessed command ability—was, in this region, practically an invincible existence.
He had a right to be proud. Glyn understood.
A satisfied smile appeared on Glyn's face as he continued walking with Knight Pell.
Within The Whispers, after a period of strict management, things had become much cleaner, and the various strange odors had dissipated.
These subtle changes made Glyn's steps lighter.
*I'll have the kitchen add an extra dish for them tonight. A little encouragement now and then.*
...
In a training yard within The Whispers.
More than twenty men were gathered here, each one tall and robust, standing like iron pagodas.
These were the most elite warriors of House Clegane, capable of fighting in full plate armor.
The Mountain Clansmen called them the Iron Men.
Noticing Glyn and Pell approaching, the men all ceased their movements and saluted one after another.
Glyn took a wooden practice sword from a rack, gave it a twirl, and said, "Who will practice with me?"
The men fell silent, looking from one to another.
Glyn pointed randomly at one of them. "Hmm, yes, you."
The man, initially hesitant, stepped forward and became serious. "My Lord, I am Foley... you might get hurt."
Glyn chuckled lightly. "Hurt me, and I'll add a roasted leg of lamb to your lunch."
"A fat, juicy one."
The brawny man swallowed hard and nodded.
The news that the young Lord was sparring in the training yard spread through The Whispers with unbelievable speed, and people flocked to watch.
By the time Glyn had taken off his outer tunic and handed it to a Squire, a large crowd had already gathered. The speed at which they assembled was both incredible and absurd.
"Ooh ooh ooh!"
"Hoo hoo hoo!"
Tempted by the roasted lamb and stirred by the atmosphere of the crowd, the brawny Foley was in high spirits.
Foley's movements were swift, but he wasn't using his full strength.
Foley had his own simple cunning. If he truly injured the Lord, he probably wouldn't get to enjoy the roasted lamb. It was better to let the young, spirited Lord know his limits and back down, allowing him to save face.
Facing Foley's downward chop, Glyn easily parried it with a single hand. He then pushed forward. Struck by the sudden force, Foley's body instinctively resisted, but he was still sent stumbling back three steps.
"My warrior, be serious. Let me see your true strength."
"Ooh ooh ooh!!"
"Foley, did the tavern keeper keep you for the night? You've got no strength left!"
"What nonsense are you spouting? To the hells with you!"
"Haha, no strength left!"
The brawny Foley's dark face flushed a deep red.
*Damn it,* he thought, *what are these bastards spouting? The Lord's strength is immense, what do you lot know?!!*
Foley steadied himself. His hand gripping the sword hilt relaxed for a moment before clenching tightly once more. He entered the combat state he had forged through countless battles.
*Bang! Thwack!*
Dust flew up and settled again, revealing Foley lying on his back, a look of utter despair on his face.
*I really did my best...*
Silence.
Then, a roar of cheers erupted!
Glyn maintained a reserved smile, waving gently to the crowd in response to his people's enthusiasm.
The gloomy atmosphere that had hung over The Whispers since the death of Glyn's mother seemed to vanish in an instant.
The air was no longer so dreary.
Knight Pell was shocked by the strength Glyn had displayed.
Pell's swordsmanship was seasoned. He could naturally tell that Glyn hadn't used his full strength and had defeated Foley with ease.
Although Foley's sword skills were inferior to his own, the man's body was more than strong enough. Had it been him fighting, Pell would have had to proceed with caution and could, at best, have only fought to a standstill.
The Lord has grown up. He's becoming stronger and stronger. House Clegane has a promising future.
...
On a high wooden platform beside the training yard, Sulana and her eldest daughter, Kalina, stood together, watching Glyn's gradually retreating back.
"My daughter, Lord Glyn is very strong. His children will be as healthy as young calves."
Kalina's hair was the ink-black color common on Crackclaw Point. As the steward's daughter, her slightly wavy, long hair was very well-kept.
Kalina was of a middling height, nearing five foot three.
Kalina's deep green eyes turned to Sulana. "Mother, but... a bastard... I want to marry a valiant Knight, not become a mistress who gives birth to bastards."
"Every maiden in Westeros dreams of marrying a valiant Knight. But, my poor daughter, your station is not high enough. A wealthy Knight would not look your way. The only ones who might are impoverished landed knights, or perhaps hedge knights. Could you adapt to a life of poverty? Are you truly willing to serve some old man?"
Kalina stubbornly remained silent.
"Mother would not harm you. One cannot live on love alone. It changes."
Kalina turned away in a huff. "My opinion doesn't matter at all, so you might as well strip me naked and throw me into the Lord's bedchamber!"
"You..."
In everyone's impression, Sulana was always stern and unsmiling, a walking ice sculpture.
All of Sulana's warmth was reserved for her most beloved daughter—Kalina.
Seeing her daughter sulking, Sulana blinked, took a step forward, and rested her gentle chin on the top of Kalina's head.
"If only it were that simple, your mother's life would be much easier."
"Yesterday, I tried to sound him out, but it seemed he refused. I feel that Lord Glyn did not take a fancy to you."
Kalina broke free from Sulana's embrace and met her mother's gaze, trying to determine if she was joking.
"But I'm the prettiest girl in our village!" Kalina's face was a mask of disbelief.
*Are you being serious?*
Sulana surveyed her daughter's beauty with satisfaction, reaching out to stroke her cheek.
Her skin was as white as milk, soft and smooth.
"Your mother is only a steward. I hold a certain position in Clegane Territory, but my status is not noble. If you were plain, Mother wouldn't have to worry about this and that."
"As the years went by, you blossomed like a flower. You will be coveted by all sorts of men for all sorts of reasons. Sooner or later, your beauty will become your calamity."
"All my long years have taught me just how cruel this world is. Of all the people I know, the only one who wouldn't treat you poorly and could also protect you is Lord Glyn."
Kalina's eyes reddened. She hugged Sulana tightly, breathing in the familiar scent. "Mother..."
Sulana stroked Kalina's hair. "Perhaps there are better men out in the world, but Mother doesn't want you to leave, and I couldn't bear for you to be alone. Are you willing to leave your mother?"
"No, absolutely not..." Kalina shook her head vigorously within Sulana's embrace.
"I mentioned you to Lord Glyn yesterday, but... he showed no reaction at all. I tossed and turned all last night, unable to sleep."
Kalina let out a muffled grunt from within Sulana's ample bosom.
...
...
Glyn spent the afternoon busying himself at the smithy and the carpenter's workshop. After the evening meal, he had a long discussion with Knight Pell about the issue of the Mountain Clansmen.
With the day's work finally done, Glyn relaxed his mind in the hot water of a wooden tub.
He let out a comfortable sigh. Glyn thought about his plans for the next day: to meet the most famous prostitute in the Territory—Aemond Paro. It was said she was a formidable hunter with outstanding archery skills.
*Creak.*
The sound of the wooden door opening was exceptionally jarring in the quiet of the night.
The footsteps were light, not a sound he recognized.
Glyn's heart leaped, and one hand was already reaching for the shortsword propped against the tub.
Closer.
Glyn's brown eyes flickered.
The young woman was dressed in a thin, olive-green linen gown. The V-neck collar was cut very low. "Forgive my intrusion, Lord Glyn."
She gave a light curtsy and said, "I am Kalina, daughter of Sulana the steward."
(end of chapter)