Chapter 207: A Sharper Pain
The makeshift camp was quickly established, and the first fire was lit in the clearing before the lead tent. It was immediately commandeered by the Chief Logistics Officer—before any food could be cooked, Egger boiled several pots of water in succession. He sent the water into the tent and then paced outside waiting, a sight that left the surrounding soldiers wondering what on earth he was up to.
Fortunately, the construction of the camp and the preparation of dinner occupied most of the men's energy, and no one paid much attention to the situation. After waiting patiently for Arya to bathe and change, Egger finally entered the tent to dispose of the dirty water and discard the girl's soiled breeches.
I feel like a nanny, he thought.
He wouldn't have minded the role if the trouble ended there, but reality proved less accommodating. After dinner, Arya began muttering about a stomachache.
"There are no Maesters or healers in this party." Was it an upset stomach or menstrual cramps? Egger couldn't tell. He scratched his head in frustration. "I'll get you a hot towel; hold it against yourself."
This solution didn't grant him peace for long. Just as he finished clearing away dinner and laying out the bedrolls, the girl approached him again with a miserable expression. "Master, it still hurts terribly. It's throbbing... like someone is stabbing my belly with a knife."
"Then what am I supposed to do?" Egger's scalp felt itchy, but he resisted the urge to scratch and threw up his hands helplessly. "What, do you want me to rub it for you?"
It was a flippant remark. Before crossing into this world, Egger had often used that line as a joke whenever a female friend complained of a stomachache, but he had never actually rubbed anyone's belly. Arya didn't catch the helplessness or the joking tone—perhaps she usually would have, but she was currently too exhausted by the abdominal pain to think clearly. She stared at Egger with tearful eyes for a few seconds and murmured, "Would rubbing it... help? Why don't you try?"
"What do you mean, I try?" Egger rolled his eyes, wondering if his young apprentice had been driven senile by the pain. "Do you not have hands of your own?"
"Oh... right. I'll try rubbing it myself then."
...
"Uh, it seems to be working a little."
"Good. Keep at it. I'm going to do a round of the camp. Stay in the tent and don't wander off."
No one was a fool. The hundred soldiers Robb Stark had assigned to Egger could clearly tell that the few dozen extra men in the party were the Kingslayer's bodyguards. It was only because these Westermen had donned the black early and maintained a low, restrained profile that no conflicts had broken out between the two groups.
It was a positive sign, but Egger had no intention of pinning all his hopes on the character or self-discipline of these rough men. He remained highly vigilant regarding the dynamics within the column, fearing internal strife or mutiny.
After setting the watch rotation and walking the perimeter, he spent some time communicating with the two hundred-plus men who had naturally formed into small cliques. Once he had a firm grasp of the men's morale and confirmed there were no uncontrollable internal tensions—fulfilling his duty as a political commissar—the sun had dipped below the western hills. Egger stretched and walked back to the tent.
Arya, for once, hadn't run off. She was sitting on her side of the tent on her bedroll, rubbing her stomach with gritted teeth. Seeing her pained expression, Egger asked with concern, "Well? Is rubbing it helping?"
The girl looked drained of all energy, her face a mask of misery. "It's better while I'm rubbing it, but it starts hurting again the moment I stop."
"Is that so... then keep rubbing." Egger offered the only advice he could give, receiving a few sickly groans in response. The man sighed, walked to the other end of the tent, blew out the lamp, and lay down on his own bedroll, ready to end the day.
I headed north to avoid trouble, and yet the trouble hasn't lessened one bit, Egger thought with a wry smile in the dark. He quickly dismissed the self-pitying thought: compared to the massive loss the Night's Watch industries would have suffered by offending Renly, dealing with a bleeding little girl was a minor headache. He just had to endure it until they reached Winterfell.
He rolled over and closed his eyes. By his reckoning, it was about seven or eight in the evening. In his previous life, this would be when the nightlife was just beginning, but in this world of nothingness, there was nothing to do but sleep. He recalled the joke about how birth rates were higher in ages without electricity. Relaxing his body and clearing his mind, Egger prepared to fall asleep as quickly as he usually did, resting up for an early start tomorrow.
The sound of pitter-pattering steps reached his ears. Arya ran over to his bedroll, knelt beside him, and gave him a shove. "Master—I can't rub it anymore. You help me."
"What? I rub it for you?" Egger turned his head. "How much strength does it take to rub a belly? How can you be too tired for that?"
"I have the strength to rub it," Arya said aggrievedly, "but I keep getting sleepy. Then the moment I stop to fall asleep, the pain wakes me up again. It's miserable."
"Sigh... you are so much trouble!" Egger rolled over, intending to ignore her. "Go back to your own bed. A young girl asking a man to rub her belly—what would people think?"
"Master, please, I feel like I'm going to die..." Arya whispered urgently, tugging at Egger's blanket and sliding her small frame inside.
"What are you doing?" Egger sat up in annoyance, glaring at the girl, regardless of whether she could see him in the dark. "Is it not enough that you lied to people about me touching your backside? Now you want to make it look like 'I slept with you'?"
"Master, I was wrong... I promise I'll never make that kind of joke again," Arya pleaded, her voice thick with tears. "If it keeps hurting like this, I don't want to live anymore—"
...
The girl's tone of agony didn't seem feigned. Does it really hurt that much? Egger frowned suspiciously. Since they had entered the North, the nighttime temperature was extremely low. He soon lay back down, pulling the blanket over both himself and Arya. "You girl, can't you show some spine? You were rolling your eyes at me this morning, and now you're crawling into my bedroll begging me to rub your stomach. What is this!"
"Wooo—Master, I promise I won't dare do it again! From now on, I'll do whatever you say!" How much spine could a girl barely over ten years old have, especially in front of someone she was close to? Arya was being driven mad by the incessant, rhythmic pain... at this point, she would confess to anything or swear any oath to anyone who could make it stop. She squirmed into the man's arms, pressing her back against Egger's chest and grabbing his hand to pull it onto her belly, essentially forcing him to rub it.
Egger was beyond annoyed, but since the situation wasn't caused by the child being a brat, it would be heartless to lose his temper. After a moment's thought, he decided to be a bit gentler and friendlier to the girl during her period. Offering kindness in such a moment was like sending charcoal in a snowstorm—a perfect opportunity to build rapport. Although he didn't know how Arya could help him once they left King's Landing, she would, regardless, always be a Stark of Winterfell.
...
Arya's body felt cool; she was thin as a bamboo pole, and her small hands were icy. Whether from the cold or the pain, she was shivering slightly. Egger held her in his arms, feeling no untoward thoughts, only the natural sympathy and affection a primate feels for a "younger of the species." He adjusted his hand and pressed lightly on her stomach. "Here?"
"A bit lower."
"Here?"
"Lower... yes, yes, right there!" Arya whimpered, her voice quickly shifting from pain to relief as she curled deeper into Egger's embrace. To her, the body of an adult male felt massive. The girl was like a small animal caught in a mire, completely enveloped by Egger's strong arms. Surrounded by his muscle and bone, his body acted like a furnace, warming her chilled frame from all sides. The hand pressed against her lower abdomen was warmer and stronger than her own; like magic, it took only a few rubs for the pain to subside significantly, making her want to shrink right into the man's body.
"Much better... mmm... don't stop." For the first time, Arya realized how blissful it was to be free of pain. She shifted her body, pressing closer to him. "Master—you said the bleeding is normal. Is the stomachache normal too?"
"I'm not entirely sure. It probably isn't, but it varies greatly depending on the person's constitution."
"Wooo—" Arya groaned sadly. "Then I must be the unluckiest. I've never heard of anyone hurting like I do. Will it always be like this?"
"The bleeding happens once a month. As for the pain, I don't know. Once you get used to it, or once your body gets stronger and you stop running around all day, it might get better."
"What? Every month!" Arya sounded as if she were about to cry; her voice changed. "Then I'd rather just die... is there no way to make it stop?"
"There is. Find a man to give you a 'shot,' and if you're lucky, it won't come back for ten months."
"A shot?" Arya didn't understand the euphemism. "Then, Master... do you know how to give shots?"
His irritation vanished instantly, and Egger nearly burst out laughing. He used his free hand to ruffle the girl's hair. "Stop talking nonsense and go to sleep. Giving you a 'shot' is a right reserved for your future husband."
Even as naive as she was, Arya understood now. She was in mortal agony, yet her master still had the heart to joke... She huffed in dissatisfaction, but needing his help, she didn't dare complain. "I don't ever want to get married."
"Whether you marry or not is none of my business." Egger had long since learned his lesson and wouldn't meddle. "Discuss that with your parents when you get back. Don't mention it to me again, understood?"
"Oh..." Mentioning her parents quickly reminded Arya of something else. "Master, my father is in King's Landing... he'll be alright, won't he?"
Will he be alright? That depends on the decisions and actions of Renly, Stannis, and Robb. The single bedroll was a bit cramped with two people, and Arya currently possessed zero "assets" that would spark stray thoughts or a physical reaction. Egger pulled the small figure closer, holding her in a comfortable side-lying position.
"Don't worry, he'll be fine. Didn't you want to sleep? Stop talking and close your eyes."
"Mmm—alright." Somewhat reluctantly, Arya obediently shut her mouth, enjoying the living furnace and massage machine surrounding her, and closed her eyes.
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