"This seat is already taken."
Linde struggled to swallow the food he had already chewed, then spoke to the two strangers in front of him.
The tall, middle-aged man among the strangers frowned when he heard Linde's words, clearly wanting to say something. However, he was stopped by the shorter teenage boy beside him. The boy then smiled at Linde and said, "We'll only sit here for a little while. Once your companion returns, we'll leave. Is that alright?"
The boy looked to be around ten years old, somewhat chubby in build. Though his face still carried the childish innocence of youth, his words and mannerisms were unusually mature. Yet this maturity didn't seem natural—it was more like he was deliberately imitating someone.
His voice was also very pleasant to hear—clear and bright, like the song of an oriole. It seemed to carry a subtle spiritual power, giving it an exceptional sense of affinity and persuasiveness.
Out of curiosity, Linde glanced over the young noble, then said nothing more. He could guess that these two were probably a noble young master who had slipped out for a night stroll, accompanied by his knightly guard. There was no need to cause trouble over a seat.
However, the tall middle-aged man did not relax his vigilance. He sat on the noble boy's right side, positioning himself between the noble and the tavern aisle, placing the boy against the wall. If anything sudden happened, he could shield the young noble at once.
At the same time, he did not ease his watch over Linde either. Beneath his hood, his eyes would occasionally sweep over Linde, seemingly unintentionally.
Such obvious surveillance did not escape Linde's notice. He also grew curious about the knight's background, because the man only needed to sit beside him and glance at him a few times to make Linde feel an intense sense of pressure. This was a feeling he had previously only experienced from Joel Flor.
Despite the pressure, Linde showed no reaction and paid no attention to the knight's actions. He continued eating the food in front of him at his own pace, so focused that it felt as though the two people at his table—and even everyone else in the tavern—did not exist.
Linde's behavior piqued the young noble's interest. It was the first time he had seen someone remain so calm and relaxed under the gaze of his swordsmanship instructor.
As he curiously observed Linde, the young noble noticed the two hand-and-a-half swords hanging at Linde's waist. A playful smile appeared on his face as he confidently guessed, "Do you also like the stories of the Bear Hunter? You even wear twin swords to imitate him—just like my little brother."
Linde lowered his head to look at his swords and asked in return, "You don't like the Bear Hunter?"
"Not really. I think his story is far too exaggerated—very unrealistic. It feels more like a lie deliberately made up by bards for the sake of a good song. I prefer real stories, like Dorne's resistance against the Conqueror, Aegon Targaryen." The young noble shook his head, expressing his opinion without reservation.
At that moment, the Bear Hunter's Song rang out once more in the tavern. Someone had clearly requested it again from the bard, and the patrons joined in singing along.
The earliest version of the Bear Hunter's Song was not the one commonly sung by bards today. It had been adapted from a rural tune of the Reach, created by a few bards passing through White Village. In truth, they had merely changed the lyrics, replacing other songs that used the same melody with the Bear Hunter's story.
Because of this, the original version did not spread widely, and listeners mostly focused only on the Bear Hunter's tale within the song.
However, the current version of the Bear Hunter's Song was Linde's own creation. He had adapted the theme song of a game from his previous life—one that told the story of a dragonborn—rewriting the lyrics into what became the Bear Hunter's Song. The result was a ballad filled with epic grandeur, deeply loved by the common folk. Bards were eager to sing it, which further accelerated the spread of Linde's fame.
Although the young noble did not like the Bear Hunter's story, he greatly enjoyed the Bear Hunter's Song. When the melody sounded, he couldn't help humming along, his gently bobbing head showing just how delighted he felt.
Only when the song neared its end did he come back to himself. At that point, he noticed Linde looking at him with an amused expression. A hint of embarrassment appeared on his face, and he quickly explained, "I just like the song, that's all."
"No need to explain," Linde said calmly.
The young noble pursed his lips childishly, dissatisfied with Linde's attitude. This reaction was probably his true self—his earlier mature demeanor had been nothing more than a disguise.
The young noble quickly reined in his childish side and said, "Although I don't like the Bear Hunter's story, I do admire his talent. To be able to compose such a wonderful song… I heard he used to be just a hunter. I really don't know where he learned all this knowledge."
Linde was momentarily stunned by these words. Only he and Roman Weber knew that he had composed the Bear Hunter's Song, and it was Roman Weber who had spread it. Yet this young noble already knew that the song was his work. This made Linde curious about the noble's family background.
Just then, Linde frowned, his gaze suddenly turning sharp. This change wasn't due to any unexpected action by the young noble, but because he suddenly realized that Joel had been gone for far too long. Something must have happened.
Linde's shift in demeanor caused a misunderstanding for the knightly guard. The knight subtly turned his body to face Linde directly, the eyes beneath his hood locking onto him. His hand moved to the hilt of his longsword, ready to draw and strike at the slightest abnormal movement.
If the pressure the knight had given Linde before was like waves along a riverbank, then the invisible pressure now pressing down on him was like towering seas beneath a raging storm—one misstep could mean total annihilation.
Linde didn't understand why the knight had suddenly become so aggressive, but he was not someone who would sit and wait for death. When the knight's hand moved to his sword hilt, Linde's hand also settled on his own hilt, and the two locked eyes, evenly matched.
Though the young noble at the side was not the target of either man, he could still sense the danger radiating from them. He didn't understand how a friendly conversation had suddenly turned into a drawn-sword confrontation, but out of trust in his teacher, he subtly shifted backward, distancing himself from Linde and taking shelter behind the knight.
Just as the atmosphere in this corner of the tavern grew tense, the tavern door was suddenly shoved open from the outside. A tall figure staggered in, rubbing the back of his head and cursing nonstop. It was none other than Joel Flor, who had just been ambushed and robbed of his valuables.
At the same time, Linde saw Joel enter from outside the tavern. The tension in his expression eased slightly, though his hand remained on his sword hilt, still facing off against the knight.
Joel then walked up to their table, not sparing the young noble or the knight a glance. Instead, he angrily shouted at Linde, "Didn't you notice I'd been gone for a long time?"
"I did notice just now," Linde replied calmly, looking Joel up and down at his miserable state. "But I figured after you finished pissing, you might've needed to take a dump too, so I didn't think much of it. Did you get robbed?"
"Isn't that obvious?" Joel spread his hands and retorted irritably.
Linde was at a loss for words. "Aren't you a famous swordsmanship master of the Reach?"
An embarrassed look flashed across Joel's face, but he stubbornly argued, "Can't a swordsmanship master get robbed after drinking too much?"
Linde didn't bother arguing further. "So what now?"
"What do you mean, what now?" Joel shot back.
"Everything valuable on you was taken, right?" Linde pointed at the empty cups and plates on the table. "What are we going to use to pay the bill?"
Joel froze, then pointed at Linde. "What about you? You can pay! You earned plenty of rewards from that battle—surely it's enough to cover this."
Linde replied expressionlessly, "I already sent all my money to my old man. I don't have a single copper on me."
Joel stared at him in shock. "You traveled south with me without bringing any money?"
Linde looked back at him. "Isn't that why you're here? I figured with you around, expenses wouldn't be a problem. And didn't you say back in Goldengrove that you'd cover all expenses along the way?"
"I…" Joel remembered that he had indeed said that and found himself speechless.
At that moment, Linde suddenly sniffed the air as if he smelled something strange. He then looked at Joel with a rather odd expression and said, "You didn't… piss yourself just now, did you?"
In that instant, Joel was utterly humiliated. He felt an overwhelming urge to draw his sword and cut Linde down, then kill everyone else who knew. Unfortunately, his sword—and all his valuables—had already been taken. In the end, he could only point at Linde, trembling, unable to say a word.
"Haha! This is too funny—way too funny!"
Just as the awkwardness reached its peak, laughter broke the tension. The young noble was clutching his stomach, laughing without any regard for decorum. Like he was speaking to an old acquaintance, he said to Joel, "I never imagined that the great swordsmanship master of the Reach, Lord Joel Flor, would have such an amusing side. Even if this were told to others, no one would believe it."
Only then did Joel notice the two extra people at his table. By the dim light on the tavern wall, he made out their faces. Surprise flashed across his expression as he exclaimed, "Young Master Garlan? Lord Fortimo? What are you doing here?"
Hearing Joel's words, Linde immediately realized that the young noble and the knight were none other than Garlan Tyrell and Fortimo Clegane—the very targets of this trip.
Joel and Garlan Tyrell were fairly familiar with each other. After Joel earned Barristan's praise, Duke Tyrell had once invited him to serve as Willas Tyrell's swordsmanship instructor for a short time. Though it lasted only a month, during that period Garlan often followed his elder brother, so he was no stranger to Joel.
As for Fortimo Clegane, there was even less to say. As two of the foremost swordmasters of House Clegane, the two had crossed blades many times. Though they served different factions, their relationship was not bad.
Joel's identity also caused Fortimo Clegane to lower his guard toward Linde. Fortimo slightly tilted his head, looking at the disheveled Joel, and spoke casually due to their familiarity. "Shouldn't you be celebrating your victory in Red Lake? What are you doing in New Barrel Town? Selling spoils of war? That doesn't seem like something a great knight like you would need to handle personally."
"No. I came to New Barrel Town to find you," Joel explained.
"Find me?" Fortimo looked puzzled. Suddenly, as if realizing something, he glanced at Linde and said, "Don't tell me you saw my squire perform well during our last sparring match, and this time you deliberately found yourself a squire to show off to me?" Then he added bluntly, "I have to say, your squire is quite good. I don't know about his swordsmanship yet, but at least in terms of courage and presence, he already counts as a true knight."
Hearing this, Joel looked at Linde in surprise. He knew Fortimo's personality well and understood how hard it was to earn his approval. Yet in the short time Joel had been away, Linde had already gained Fortimo's praise. He couldn't help wondering what had happened while he was gone.
Still, he quickly snapped out of his thoughts and said, "You're mistaken. He's not my squire—he's someone I intend to recommend to you as a squire."
"Recommend to me?" Fortimo froze, confusion evident on his face.
"Let me introduce him properly," Joel said, pointing at Linde. "Linde—the Bear Hunter, Linde."
"Huh?"
As soon as Joel revealed Linde's identity, Garlan Tyrell let out a startled exclamation. He immediately recalled what he had said earlier, and embarrassment crept back onto his face.
Fortimo also looked at Linde in astonishment. He had heard plenty of rumors about the Bear Hunter recently. Like Garlan, he had believed the tales to be exaggerated and unreliable. But now his opinion had begun to change—because the presence Linde had just displayed was already enough to contend with his own. If Linde's swordsmanship matched that presence, then perhaps the many exaggerated feats in the rumors were indeed possible.
While Fortimo was sizing up Linde, Garlan Tyrell had already regained his composure. With a hint of curiosity, he asked, "Lord Linde, is it true that you possess the most gorgeous dual-wielding swordsmanship in the Reach?"
"No."
Linde shook his head. Just as disappointment appeared on Garlan Tyrell's face, Linde's tone shifted, filled with absolute confidence.
"It's the most gorgeous dual-wielding swordsmanship on the entire continent of Westeros!"
...
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Here are a few fan-fic titles that I've recently uploaded on my Patreon:
"Game of Thrones: Dragon Prince"
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"Game of Thrones The Glory of a Knight"
(End Chapter)