The Northern Tyrant [Game of Thrones] Chapter 59 - A Knight’s Oath I: In The Lion’s Den

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Over the next two days of working in Stoney Sept and watching over the construction of the slaughterhouses and large ice-houses, Wylis bedded ten more women. A total of thirty women in Stoney Sept were with child by the end of his visit. 

But before he left, he made large investments in everything related to health. He commissioned the construction of a healer's hall, where midwives and healers from Ramsgate would come and teach. As Stoney Sept was in the south and accessible to large cities, it had a higher probability of teaching more healers. 

Wylis' goal was to increase the chances of healthy childbirths as much as possible. He would even store his lifesaving medicines in that hall. But still, it would remain his private property. 

As night approached, he began preparing to leave the next morning. The next destination was Lannisport, where he hoped to meet Genna, and if possible, Lord Tywin Lannister. He reckoned the man must have much to discuss now. The last time he'd sent the proposal, he didn't have ships nor the gold; now he had both. But most of all, he had Valyrian steel. 

But he wasn't optimistic. He knew what kind of man Tywin Lannister was. Stiff, stubborn, full of pride. The lion considered him an upstart, a house not even five years old. In fact, it wasn't just the lion. Most of the houses in Westeros didn't take his house seriously. 

They may take him as a knight and a man forged of war seriously, but not his house. Of course, it would change, but he couldn't do anything right now. Ramsgate was indeed an unknown backwater.

Knock! Knock!

"My lord."

"Come in."

Wylis was preparing his light armor for the morning when Chett entered. 

"All's made ready, my lord. Five carriages with well-rested horses. The men are taking their ease as well. We'll ride back to Pinkmaiden, pass the night there, then make Wayfarer's Rest by the River Road for another rest. From there, we'll make for Lannisport." 

"Seems a sound enough plan to me," Wylis said with a wave of his hand. "Take a seat. Had any fortune with the ladies?" 

"You left none for us, my lord."

Wylis chuckled, eyeing his squire who rarely jested. "I left all the pretty maidens."

"My lord, is it right for you to... bed so many? I doubt Lady Kaiser would take kindly to it. She seems the fierce sort to me." 

"Worry not, Chett. She knows of it. Perhaps one day I'll reveal the true cause that drives me to sire as many children as I can. But you should be quick yourself. Have a son now, and he might be of age to wed my Arthria, should she favor him. Then we'd be kin by blood," Wylis replied, painting Chett a pleasant picture to dwell on. 

As expected, the squire frowned and fell into thought. 

"Shall I see a match arranged?" Wylis asked. "Robert near begged to have you in his Kingsguard. It took no small effort to keep him from claiming you. Give the word, and some lords from the North to the South will be eager to offer their daughters. And I doubt you'll leave them wanting in bed. I've seen that cursed hammer of yours. It's no worse than mine."

"..."

Chett looked at his lord, taken aback, frowning. Aye, he'd seen it too. They were men; they don't bother hiding their cocks when bathing in the river. Though the Ramsgate guards mostly stayed away from him and his lord for some reason.

"I… I shall find the one myself, my lord."

"Good, Chett. Just remember, if the day comes you lose heart, tell me. I'll see you wed to a fine beauty with broad birthing hips. A maiden, naturally."

Chett awkwardly scratched his shaven face. "My lord, why are you so keen on seeing me wed?"

"Because you're to be knighted soon, and I'll see you made a landed knight. I’ll grant you a house name, and you'll stand as the first vassal of House Kaiser," Wylis declared. "So you should best start thinking on your own line of succession."

Chett, taking the matter seriously, nodded. He had no idea that his lord had planned that far. 

"Go and have some rest now. We leave early."

####

The Twins, Riverlands,

The Riverlands was in chaos. What Gods had House Frey angered for such ill fate to befall them? They wondered not out of concern but fear, so they may avoid angering that same god. 

For that reason, an unusual crowd of noble lords had traveled halfway across Riverrun to see the state of The Twins. They had only heard of the bridge falling before, but with a tower gone, it was a sight they just had to witness themselves. 

Hence, under the leadership of Lord Tully, a big entourage arrived at the Twins. Lord Bracken of Stone Hedge, Lord Piper of Pinkmaiden, Lord Smallwood of Acorn Hall, Lord Blackwood of Raventree, and Lord Darry of Darry were the members. They traveled with a small retinue, but combined, it became a sizable host. 

And when they arrived at the Twins, they found an unlikely small man from the North. A crannogmen, Lord Howland Reed himself, visiting to see what caused the fall of the Twins as well. 

With only the western keep of the castle left, the lords pitched their grand tents in the open fields by the river. From there, they could all see the state of the current Twins. 

"Such a fair castle, laid to ruin," Lord Hoster Tully muttered, shaking his head. "A sorrow. I fear it shall never know its former glory again." 

The Lord Paramount of the Trident sighed, standing at the banks of the river in the middle of the sunny day. Right beside him on two sides, the other lords stood. The only one missing was Lord Walder Frey himself. 

"Look upon the ruin. The very foundation gave way, as though the earth beneath it had stirred in its wrath," Lord Blackwood grumbled.

"The eastern tower split and fell two ways. The gods must have been wroth beyond anything," Lord Bracken said. "Take care, Lord Blackwood. Look upon the Seven's wrath, and do not tempt it." 

Lord Blackwood sneered, being the only Riverlands House to follow the Old Gods. 

"There was no quake," Lord Reed added. "We'd know it in Greywater Watch, even the slightest one." 

"My lords," Lord Piper murmured, easing back a step as he looked upon the castle. "Six ravens have reached me this past fortnight. Lord Frey calls upon the Riverlands for aid. I would answer, were I not so short of coin. Much of what I have has already been pledged to Lord Kaiser for the road to River Road, in return for ice-houses and an expanded riverport in my town."

Lord Piper didn't hide the deal he'd struck with Lord Kaiser. In time, all of Riverlands would have known it no matter what. 

"Castle Darry lies close to Kingsroad and the river. I've sunk my coin into warehouses and Lord Kaiser's ice-houses to swell our trade. Lord Kaiser stands close to the King, and won us the cursed rebellion—" 

"Us?" Lord Tully snapped, eyeing Lord Darry. "My lord, must I remind you where House Darry stood during the rebellion? Your brother fell to Lord Kaiser at the Trident, and your other kin died for the Targaryen cause as well. Take this as Lord Kaiser's chance for House Darry to prove its loyalty. The man slew both prince and king with his own hands. I'd wager he has little love for Targaryens and their sympathisers."

The Lords uneasily became quiet after that. But Lord Hoster Tully continued, turning with an air of authority and walking over to the table and chairs set in a large tent, laden with fruits.  

"None of us holds much love for Walder. The man turned us away when we had greatest need. He sat out the rebellion, then came to the Trident after the fighting was done. The man knows neither shame nor honor, yet demands both from others. Even so, my duty is to the Riverlands. House Tully shall grant House Frey a thousand gold dragons over two years. That is all I can spare." 

Finally, Lord Tully took a seat as the head, and allowed his son to fill his cup. The money he had offered was a pitiful amount. To build a bridge and castle for the Twins, tens of thousands of gold dragons were needed. Perhaps closer to millions. The fallen castle had been built over three generations.

"House Bracken will offer five hundred, over a period of three years."

"We will give the same, for the same terms." Lord Blackwood matched.

"Likewise." 

Lord Smallwood and Lord Darry agreed to the same. 

"I'm no Riverman." Lord Reed shrugged and drained his cup of mead. "But I would like to see the fallen foundation. The way the keep and bridge came down is... unnatural." 

"Try your luck with Lord Walder. He'll want a chest of gold for the favor. The man was brazen once, and these days he's forgotten all decency," Lord Blackwood commented. "Best put the thought aside. Natural or not, only the Gods can bring a castle down so." 

Lord Reed nodded, but then said something that made the men at the table laugh. 

"Wasn't Lord Kaiser riding through both times? Before the bridge fell, he had dined with Lord Frey. Now, as he heads south, the keep fell."

"Are you suggesting that the Northern giant felled a castle?" Lord Bracken questioned with a snicker, holding back laughter. 

"No. That is simply impossible," Lord Reed said. 

"No, it is not impossible," Lord Hoster Tully said gravely. "What Lord Reed says is true. My lords, you all know the scheme Walder played at Maidenpool. Some of you also know how he shamed Lord Kaiser at supper in the Twins. Perhaps... the Gods truly are angered. Angered by the dishonor shown to their chosen champion."

"Ah!" Lord Blackwood exclaimed. "No man who's stood against Lord Kaiser has come away the victor. I heard what passed with the Mad King. The man has never lost a battle, and those who plot against him always come to grief. Maybe... the Gods do... favor—"

"Which Gods?" Lord Bracken sneered. "Don't bring your heresy here, Blackwood!"

"You dare insult the Old Gods!" 

"I just did."

Lord Hoster Tully ignored the bickering that slowly grew into a brawl between the two lords. He was used to seeing all their discussions devolve into this. In fact, he barely paid attention, as his mind was lost in thought. 

He and the others had come to the Twins seeking answers. How could a castle fall without a quake? Much as it irked him, Lord Hoster couldn’t wholly dismiss Lord Blackwood's words. The Mad King had fallen. Prince Rhaegar had fallen. Now House Frey had fallen. Each had done the Northern giant some wrong.

It... must be no more than coincidence. Aye, this old head o' mine is thinking too much. 

"...I spit on yer name, ye tree-hugging Blackwood!"

"...And I shit on yer name, and yer whore ancestors bred by the fat fucking Targaryen!"

"...Your ancestor was bred by that fat whoreson too!"

"Enough!" Lord Tully barked with his old voice. "Let us see Lord Frey ourselves since he won't come out. Not coin, we can offer him our shoulders to weep upon." 

The lords laughed and followed. Lord Howland Reed chose not to follow and return. 

It was, after all, the great humiliation of House Frey. 

####

Cider Hall, the Reach,

"Bahaha! Seven bloody Hells! Ain't the Gods cruel jesters? The damned tower falls now?" Robert Baratheon bellowed, his laughter echoing through the great hall of House Fossoway.

The King was on his way to Brightwater Keep to attend Stannis' wedding. On the way, his large retinue rested at the Cider Hall, feasting on pies and fine beverages.

"Where's the bloody ice?" Robert folded the parchment, slumped back in the grand chair, and fixed Lord Fossoway with a stare. "Ale's piss without it. King's Landing has enough to drown men."

Lord Fossoway sighed, drinking as well. "Apologies, Your Grace. I'm afraid Lord Kaiser only meant to tease us. For a while, there was ice, reaching as far as Oldtown. But since past year, no ice has come to this side of Westeros."

"I'll ask him at the wedding then. Gods, that's the finest damned idea anyone's had in this cursed realm." Robert barked through a drunken laugh. "Aye! Ice cold ale to drink and warm cunts to bury in. That's a match made in heaven."

"It is the Ironborn, Your Grace," Ser Barristan said quietly from nearby. "Lord Varys brought word of it before the Small Council. The Ironborn have sunk three of Lord Kaiser's Ice ships. I doubt he's eager to suffer further losses."

Bam!

Robert slammed the cup down, cracking it. 

"Damned squids! Always bloody ruining the fun. Why have we let them carry on this long? They're slavers, drowned-cunt worshippers, and utter shit! Seven hells, I should… take my hammer… and..."

Before Robert Baratheon could finish, he slumped forward and fell fast asleep. Strong again, no longer fat, he was as mighty as he'd once been. Still, he drank and whored as much as ever, perhaps even more. 

Robert Baratheon had found his own fool's trick to staying fit. Drink like a fish, then make up for it by fighting, fucking, and training harder. 

####

King's Landing, Chataya's brothel,

Hand of the King, Lord Jon Arryn, ran King's Landing in the absence of the King. No, he ran the realm during that time. He held court, listened to the petitions, and dealt with everything. In fact, there was no change in his life, no matter whether the King was present or not. 

Yet, he was growing old, and from time to time he sought rest. Using the secret tunnel, he visited Chataya's brothel, but it was never to bed whores. No, he simply desired some peace, quiet, ice-cream, ice-cold beverages, and Lady Chataya's company. 

The strong, tall Summer Islander was always a delight to speak with, and she gave him scalp rubs he considered himself addicted to. But above all, she also shared with him the mood of the city. Things that he may never know, even with Lord Varys around. 

"What tidings come from the city, my lady?" Jon asked, as polite as ever with her. "I hear there was a small riot in Flea Bottom." 

"Flea Bottom has never needed much to descend into chaos, my lord. A drunken quarrel, a wounded pride, a few lost coins. Such small matters to us are quite another thing to them. I did hear whispers of a Goldcloak who violated a maiden on her wedding night. He mocked her with talk of the First Night. She was too terrified to ever report it."

Jon frowned, displeased, but not angry. He was relaxing, but he needed to hear this. "Give me his name later. I shall look into it. I hope Lord Kaiser's written city code finds its way to King's Landing one day. For now, we simply lack the manpower."

"And the proper kind, my lord. The whispers say House Lannister rules this city, with the City Watch filled mostly by Lannister men. Many believe the Watch ought to be made up chiefly of House Baratheon's men." 

Jon sighed, giving a silent nod with his eyes closed, reclined in that comfortable long cushioned seat, legs stretched wide, boots off and toes soaked in warm jasmine water. Behind him, he felt Lady Chataya standing, and at times he felt her bosom against his head. He didn't mind that much. 

Yet, he was aware of her words. She was right. A King's city should be run by the King's men, not the Queen's. Yet, the Crown didn't have much bargaining power. House Lannister funded the Crown, and in return the Crown allowed certain things. 

"You know enough, my lady. The Crown quite literally cannot afford itself. Lannister gold is what holds this city together," he replied. 

"My lord, if it's gold you seek, why chase a venomous rock when a kindly golden river runs near you?" 

"Ha, you have a gift for words, my lady. Aye, Wylis has indeed found gold. But I fear the Crown, the realm, and I myself have demanded much of him, and he has delivered every time. The Crown cannot forever be the one taking from him." 

"There must be something he desires. I have watched House Kaiser's men move through the city. Honest, yet clever, and all they seem to seek is trade. Lord Kaiser appears to care for nothing but seeing Ramsgate prosper and its people grow wealthy. I do wonder if I shall visit that thriving city one day." 

"A city?" Jon asked. The Ramsgate he knew was a barren, starving fishing village surrounded by barren forests. 

"It is only what I’ve heard, my Lord Hand. They say Ramsgate grows fast. Its people now number ten thousand, with ice, beverages, carriages, and more still in the works. The whispers claim Lord Kaiser visits many houses on his road south, weaving stronger ties of trade. Perhaps he truly intends to claim a city for himself." 

"A city, huh?" Jon muttered to himself. 

If the population had reached ten thousand, then it was already at a small city’s threshold. The only thing remaining was granting it a City Charter. 

"The bards never tire singing of the brotherhood His Grace and the Northern Giant share. Many whisper the city would prosper more with brothers guiding it together than with a hungry lion."

"And who are these 'many' you speak of?" Jon asked. Then he felt her bosom rest against his head, while her warm, gentle fingers brushed slowly across his temples.

"Us, the people, the hawkers, the beggars, the courtesans. This city has many voices, my lord. I don’t speak for them, but I hear them. Ah, forgive me if my tongue has wandered too far."

"No, not at all, my lady. Have I not told you often enough to keep no words from me? My mind is not so frail that I would take offense so easily," Jon replied, settling deeper into his seat. "Now, enough of solemn matters. Have you any pleasant tidings?"

"Of course. I have heard House Frey has found itself shunned by…"

The talk continued. Jon Arryn enjoyed Chataya's voice, words, and scalp rubs. Sadly, he had hoped something would stir between his legs, but once again, he ended up returning to his duties without any 'new' sensations.

There was much work to be done. And perhaps an invitation needed to be sent to the Northern giant. 

####

Lannisport, Westerlands, 

A day had passed since Wylis had arrived at Lannisport. No Lannister delegation had come to greet him at the gates, nor had anyone come to greet him during his stay. He had occupied a small mansion in the city, reserved in advance. 

After arriving, he rested first and then took the men out to roam the city. He allowed some of them to visit higher-quality brothels. Meanwhile, his personal interest was elsewhere. Lannisport was renowned for its goldwork and goldsmiths. And since Wylis had earned the Goldsmithing Mastery reward, he wanted to try his hand. 

"Our city will be more magnificent than this," Wylis muttered as he walked the streets, judging the city. While it was a walled city with a port, it left much to be desired. Only the rich part of the city was clean; the streets were narrow, and horseshit was piled on the sides every now and then.  

"I can already see that, my lord," Chett replied, armed to the teeth in full plate. "Ramsgate is far more beautiful."

In a good mood, Wylis entered the street that was filled with gold shops and goldsmiths. It was perhaps the most beautiful street in the city. Clean stone-paved roads, no horseshit, and there were perfume shops sprinkled here and there, filling the street with a warm, flowery fragrance. 

He didn't look for the biggest shop; he wanted to avoid the crowd. It didn't help that he was over seven feet, however, and with Chett and his six guards armed to the teeth, there was no chance of avoiding attention. Most easily recognised him from his features. There weren't that many rich giant men in the realm, after all. Not as massive as him. 

Eventually, he stopped in front of a shop, simply named Garth's Gold Shop. It was modest, smaller than the shops on either side of it, and it had the smallest crowd. In fact, there was nobody inside it. 

"My Lord?"

The lone guard standing in front of the shop in light armor greeted politely. 

"Greetings. I'm Lord Wylis Kaiser; these are my men. The six can wait outside; this one's my squire." Wylis warmly greeted the poor man, shaking for no reason. 

"Of course, we are honored to have you." The guard stepped aside right away. 

As Wylis entered, he eyed the shop's layout. He was used to modern gold shops, fancy, glass boxes everywhere. But this wasn’t even close to that experience. This shop was more a workshop than a showcase. There was one large counter that went from one wall to the other, effectively working as a barrier. Behind it was a man dressed in fine clothes, with ledgers on the table. 

Behind the table was an open area where three men sat on the cushioned floor; low tables lay before them with countless tools as they worked on gold jewelry with focus, not even noticing him. Though the man behind the counter was ecstatic. 

"Ah, my lord! The Warrior himself in mortal flesh. Welcome, welcome to my shop. I'm Garth. How may I serve you today, my lord?"

Wylis looked at the very thin mustache on the 'healthy' man's lips. It was so thin that it struggled to stay horizontal, yet it was long and drooped over the corners of the lips. Clearly the man was trying to show masculinity, though it wasn't helping.   

"I have a unique request," Wylis said, arms crossed, dressed in light leather armor, his heavy, fur-collared cloak covering most of his massive frame, a simple sword hanging off his hip that could've been a longsword for an average man. 

"Anything for you, my lord. Just demand it, and I shall serve."

"Garth, my friend, I took up goldsmithing back home not long ago. You've surely heard I found gold in my river. I wondered if I might sit with your men and try my hand at forging two rings. I mean to gift them to Lord Stannis Baratheon and his lady on their wedding."

Garth, the owner, gulped, staring up with his whole head tilted. "Rings from… from my shop? For Lord Baratheon? Ah, Seven… Wait, you mean to make them, my lord? My men can craft the finest rings to your instruc—"

Wylis turned around to leave. "I will ask another shop."

"Wait! M-My lord! Hold a moment, I beg you. Then at least buy the gold from me for those rings. If I can tell folk in the streets the mighty Lord Kaiser bought gold from my shop, it would do me a world of good." 

Ah, a man who knows trade. Impressive. 

Wylis liked him because the man somehow understood the concept of advertising one's shop. It was a business sense lacking amongst most merchants of Westeros, who just dreamt of winning big without even trying to get the word out. 

"Good, we can make that arrangement."

Garth beamed dumbly. "This way, my lord."

Wylis followed Garth and sat down in the middle seat of the three goldsmiths at work. All three were old men; one was Garth's father, and the other two were uncles. It was a family-run business. 

The old men didn't look pleased by it, but what could they do when a noble lord requested to sit with them? Garth’s father emptied his seat for Wylis. 

"It's comfortable," Wylis said, glancing over the low table crowded with tools. He knew their use at once, though his mind was already planning better ones. "Bring me a few of your own rings. I'll dream up a design from them."

"Of course, my lord!"

Garth immediately ran to the back of the ship, vanished into a corner, and soon returned with a small metal box, opened up, revealing a red cushion inside on which half a dozen gold rings sat. 

"Beautiful," Wylis muttered. He actually liked the design. It was intricate, with precise engravings on them, with just the right amount of gems used without overwhelming the design. "Who made these designs?"

"I'm the one who imagines them. Gallard, father of Garth, at your service, m'lord." 

Wylis glanced at the short, old man and gave a nod. "If you ever mean to build a second shop, Ramsgate will welcome you. I've long meant to trade with the Free Cities, Braavos most of all, since it lies so near. Now, Garth, fetch me sixty grams of gold. I'll begin."

Quickly, the man ran out and back again, and this time brought small gold ingots. Then, as if there was no work in the world to do, Garth sat down opposite the small table, staring. Garth's father did the same. Meanwhile, Garth's uncles already sat beside Wylis. Only Chett remained standing guard at the side. 

Wylis looked down and focused, eyeing all the tools first. The first part was melting the gold and adding some copper and silver to make it durable enough for daily use. Then, he molded it into a metal rod, then flattened it with a hammer into an elongated strip of some thickness. 

The design he had in mind was adjustable since he had no clue how thick Stannis' or Selyse Florent's fingers were. 

Eventually, he began detailing the two rings. This was the most delicate process, as he needed to chip away the gold in the most careful ways. His hands were too big, fingers too thick, so he had to be careful. It was one of the reasons why he had decided to make big rings. 

Stannis' ring was thicker, more weighty, but he etched patterns on it, identical leaves, long rings, squares with space for gems later. In the center of the ring, however, he carved something artistic. A mighty stag with horns, striding forward. Behind it, he carved the pattern of trees. Then finally, he set red gems of multiple sizes. 

As for Selyse's ring, it was lighter but had an elongated center like a navette ring, and it was more delicate, as it had some see-through areas. Inside, he carved a hind, feminine. Finally, he set the red gems in it as well and finished. 

As Wylis placed the rings on the table, holding them together to give one last look, he finally noticed the four men standing behind him, or beside him, staring at the rings. It was Garth and his family. 

"B-By the Seven Gods!" Garth exclaimed. 

"Exquisite, m'lord!" Gallard blurted. 

"Beautiful!"

"Most elegant rings I have ever seen." 

Garth's uncles added. 

Listening to their praise, Wylis nodded. He could tell what he'd made was truly something, but praise coming from actual goldsmiths mattered to him. 

"Such controlled movement of the hands," Gallard said. 

He silently smiled. His old Quest Reward "Rock steady Hands" had helped him a lot. Initially, he'd reckoned it was useful for surgeries, but clearly it had plenty of other uses. 

"My thanks." Wylis rose to his feet, noting the last of the daylight fading outside. "Chett, pay them. My eyes ask for rest."

"Aye, my lord."

"Wait, my lord!" Garth jolted. "If you'd allow us to say these rings were forged by your hand with my father and uncles' help... I-I won't ask a single copper for it."

Humming, Wylis looked at the two rings in his hand. He still needed to make boxes for them. However, he didn't want them for free. They were gifts, after all. 

"No, I shall pay. Still, I will permit you to claim as much, provided it casts no stain upon my name. You aided me, not helped. Choose your words with care." Wylis ordered with a stern look. "Have a good night." 

"Thank you! Thank you, my lord!" 

"Thank you."

The father and son both bowed their heads. Wylis simply left, not looking back. He'd spent almost ten hours that day working on those rings, and his eyes, hands, and ass; everything felt tired. He was hungry as well. 

Once at the small mansion, his men brought the ingredients, and Wylis cooked food for himself. He simply didn't trust people that close to the Lion's den. He guarded his men as much as they guarded him. 

Finally, as midnight approached, he finished making silk boxes for the two rings and went to sleep. At last, he had gifts for the damn wedding, and an understanding of how skilled his goldsmithing was. 

Soon, he went to sleep, hoping that a summons from Tywin Lannister would come soon. If not, he planned to leave. 

####

The next morning, Wylis woke up on time, changed into training clothes, washed his face, and brushed his teeth. No matter where, he never dared to miss training himself, his men, or Chett. He'd been doing this for the better half of his life now. 

Knock! Knock!

But before he could leave his room, an unexpected guest arrived. 

"My lord," Chett called from beyond the door. "Lady Genna Lannister has come to see you. She says you've been invited to Casterly Rock." 

At last, the old bastard moved. 

"Let her in." 

He stood near his bed as the door opened. He had already expected it, and just smiled as she entered. The usual red gown with golden embroidery, long golden-blonde hair, locks curled at the temples, neck so wide and breasts so full, now fuller; they threatened to spill with the faintest jolt. 

Genna Lannister was profusely pregnant, perhaps in the last few weeks of her pregnancy. She looked big, but her face was the usual, and to Wylis, she still looked beautiful. Any man seeing a woman carrying his own child couldn't look ugly. 

"Oh, Wylis," Genna mumbled as soon as the door shut behind them. She strode to him, but he was faster. She fell into his arms snugly. "The gods blessed my kin with wealth, but precious little wit if they thought they could keep me from you." 

Wylis chuckled and looked down, caressing the side of her face. Then he leaned down and kissed her lips, soft and wild as always. His one hand groped her hips behind, the other pressed the side of her voluminous breasts. 

Genna looked drunk already, her one hand sliding between and cupping his manhood. "Feed it to me! Now!"

Tempted, but Wylis shook his head. She was too close to the due date, and he wanted to finish his training. 

"Now, now, Genna. I'll be staying in Lannisport through the week ahead. We've no need to rush. Our night together will come soon enough. Let me finish my training, then we'll visit your brother. You never should've come. It's not safe," he said, caressing her belly. "What if this snow lion decides he's ready to greet the world?" 

"Oh, I know when it'll happen. Not my first time, Wylis. Very well, I can wait. But you must shed your tunic when you train. If I can't feast on this..." She curled her hand around his cock. "Then allow me to feast with my eyes." 

He just laughed and removed his tunic right away. 

"Whatever the lady demands."

After that, he did what he told Genna. He put his men and Chett through hell in the yard of that mansion. There were no servants, just them, so Genna had no reason to hide her gaze either. But she had decided to sit on the upper-floor balcony, and that meant her legs couldn't be seen. 

Wylis could feel it through the Earthbending, the movement of her hand between her legs up there. She kept her expressions simple, but they weren't simple enough for him. He recognized it. 

He flexed his body, gave Genna the treat she deserved, and then took a bath in the tub. His men did the same, using different tubs. Finally, they all got dressed. His men wore full armor, all the plates and helmets. Meanwhile, Wylis wore his light armor and noble cloak. At last, he slung his six-foot-long sword over his back. 

"Shall we, my lady?" He offered Genna his arm. 

She smiled like a maiden in love and walked with him to her carriage waiting outside. Surprisingly, it was a carriage that Ramsgate manufactured. It was in high demand due to its suspension. 

"Fine choice." 

Wylis didn't ride with her, however, as he knew she'd be on his lap in an instant. Instead, he rode on Caliburn, with his men, leading them. The city was just half a mile away from Casterly Rock, and most of the ride was just twisting roads taking them up the mountain. 

Eventually, they crossed the Lion's Mouth and arrived in a massive hall. They didn't go all the way to the top of the mountain; there was no need to that day. Since Casterly Rock was a complex of rooms, halls, and hallways carved into the stone, the entire mountain was the damn castle and the mine combined. 

The hall they arrived in had natural lighting from the western walls, where large windows had been carved overlooking the sea. It seemed to serve as the castle's main courtyard, as there were too many horses and stables, carriages scattered around, including Lannister soldiers in armor. 

However, that particular day, there seemed to be a commotion. Wylis could see it: a crowd of Lannister soldiers stood in a large circle at the other end of the hall. 

Wylis didn't stop Caliburn and moved away from Genna's carriage. Atop his horse, he moved closer to the gathered crowd, and the closer he got, the more ominous it felt. At first, all he could hear was the loud cheers of men. But eventually, a wailing cry of a girl mixed in. 

He was high atop a mighty stallion; the height allowed him to see all the way. Beside him, Chett was the same, on his own stallion, but shorter, yet enough. The two stopped at the edge of the crowd of men and watched. 

They watched as their warm, bright mood sank. As the blood in their cold veins boiled.

Wylis recognized them; there was Tywin Lannister standing with arms crossed, a sneer on his face. Kevan Lannister was beside him. Then there was Jaime Lannister in armor, and then a short, young dwarf boy crying. 

"What is this?" Chett whispered, as if confused. 

Wylis watched the middle of the crowded circle, that space where a slender, dark-haired girl was being thrown left and right by guards. Each time they ripped a piece of cloth from her dirty, simple robe. 

"It's a lie! Tyrion, believe me! Please!" 

She cried, yelled, her voice breaking. Unknown for how long she had been screaming like that. The Old Lion just watched. Wylis, on horseback, watched. 

Scrrr!

In moments, all her clothes were shredded. She tried to cover herself with her arms to hold onto some modesty. But the men threw her around, touched her, scratched her, pulled her hair as her tears moistened the dried streaks of previous tears. 

"I truly loved you, Tyrion! I swear!"

Her voice, so meek, was drowned by cheering Lannister soldiers. She screamed; she tried to push the men away, but she was too small, too weak. 

Wylis' grip tightened on the reins as he watched. His mind had gone blank from the moment he saw her. A girl he shouldn't know, yet he knew. A girl whose fate was so ill, so vile, that it… he didn’t know what to do. 

This was Tysha, the innocent girl who dared to love the unlovable. 

"Tyrion! Please! I beg you! It's a lie!" 

Tyrion Lannister just cried. Jaime Lannister looked away. Kevan Lannister appeared uncomfortable. Tywin Lannister only had a sneer, focused on the agony of the girl. 

"Take her to the barracks!" Ordered the Old Lion. "A stag for each man. Give her a whore's lesson! Leave her alive, my son shall be the last, and pay gold, a true Lannister's worth!"

Wylis felt like his veins would shatter. His nails dug into his palm. What would be the consequences, his mind wondered? King's Landing would become a hell for his trade. Westerlands would oust any trade tied to his name. Stoney Sept might get targeted by paid bandits and mercenaries. His ships on the Narrow Sea would be targeted by paid pirates. 

Everything he had built would be crippled. Tywin would make sure of it. He would become confined to the North only. 

Wylis didn’t fear the man for himself; he feared for the future of his lands he was trying to uplift. 

"Aaaaaaargh!"

Tysha's screams grew louder as a soldier grabbed her hair and dragged her by it, away towards the barracks. The entire swarm of men followed. And that was when Tywin Lannister and his gaze met. 

"My Lord…" 

Suddenly, Chett spoke beside him, his eyes red, his sword out already. 

"My Lord… you said we should become one they may look up to and freely unburden their hearts before. That we should protect them. I... I want to protect her, whatever her sin. This is not justice. But... I'm afraid, my lord. This will bring you harm, to Ramsgate..." 

Midway through Chett's words, Wylis' ears had gone deaf. Somehow, somewhere inside him, his own voice was speaking, asking him questions. 

What was your dream of two lives? 

Why did you wish to be a knight? 

To earn riches? To bed women? To sire bastards? To be a Tyrant?

What does being a knight mean to you?

Do… you… remember… the… oath? 

Suddenly, Wylis' grip loosened on the reins. His eyes shifted away from Tywin towards the mass of men dragging away a girl he knew was completely innocent. His breath that was hitched before calmed smoothly. 

Clink—shhhh!

His large hand fell on the hilt of the sword slung over his back. Metal scratched against the scabbard as if music to his ears. 

"I remember."

Wylis muttered without realising. 

"To be brave… To be just… To defend the young and innocent… To protect all women…"

His leg swung over Caliburn, and he descended onto the hard, rocky ground of Casterly Rock. As soon as he felt his connection with Earth, all doubts vanished. House Lannister was the weakest to his strikes, he reminded himself.

"I remember."

He stared at Tywin Lannister, stabbing his steely gaze into the old man's skull. His sword hand rose on its own, raising the blade high towards the maddened horde of Lannister soldiers. 

His lungs emptied more freely than ever. 

"Release the girl!"