Bab 48: All Paths Lead to The...#48
Auhtor's note: thank you to everyone who donated power stones yesterday.
If we can keep this up, and the story stays as high in the ranking as it is now for a week or two, more people will start reading, and even more power stones will come, meaning this will be the long and epic GOT fic that I want to write, and you want to read.
...
I continued to swing my sword in a rhythmic pattern, going through my practice routine. My thoughts, however, were far from my training as I inwardly sighed at the Thenns, who were shooting hostile glares in my direction.
The expressions on their faces seemed to suggest they harbored dark intentions, something along the lines of cutting me open and guzzling my entrails. And Knowing the Thenns, such thoughts didn't seem that far-fetched.
Nonetheless, I paid little heed to the cannibalistic goat fuckers.
The meeting with Mance Rayder and the wildling clan leaders had unfolded as smoothly as one could expect when dealing with a group of savages with sizable chips on their shoulders.
Each had objections to raise and an endless stream of questions and doubts. But I managed to silence them with my typical pessimism and irrefutable logic, a combination that was very much their kryptonite.
Rationality wasn't a common trait among wildlings-- well, it wasn't that common anywhere in this world, but it was even more scarce beyond the Wall.
The outcome of the meeting had been a concession, with the wildlings needing more time to contemplate the idea of cooperation with the Night's Watch.
The delay was primarily due to Mance Rayder's ongoing efforts to unite all the wildling tribes. There were still some resistance from the clans dwelling near the Ice Rivers and the cave-dwellers, requiring further convincing.
I couldn't help but ponder whether my logical arguments and reasoning would be sufficient to bridge the chasm between the wildlings and the Night's Watch. But, for the time being, I had to exercise patience—something that had been in short supply since I woke up in this unfamiliar world.
From the moment I became aware of my situation, time had been my most pressing concern. In this world, there was a single looming threat I couldn't evade—the Night King and his relentless army of the undead so long as I wished to stay in Westeros. He was like the final boss in this twisted game of survival.
Though it wasn't a necessity for me to stay in Westeros, I could always hop on a ship and set sail to Essos after relieving some remote noble of their wealth. With my unique abilities, this was more than possible. Yet, I couldn't ignore the nagging question of what I'd do once my stolen gold dwindled away. The prospect of a lifetime as a common bandit wasn't my idea of a good time.
Despite my desire to stay as far away as possible from the so-called Game of Thrones and the chaos following Robert's death, I couldn't ignore the wealth of opportunities it presented. This predicament led me back to the overarching issue that had been plaguing me since my arrival in this world: time.
Why was time such an obsession for me, you might ask? The answer is disarmingly simple: I had no fucking clue how much of it I had before Robert's demise and the subsequent unraveling of the shitstorm I'd hoped to avoid, or at least delay until the Night King was dealt with.
Regrettably, I wasn't the kind of overly obsessive Game of Thrones fan who had scrutinized every episode, examined every book, and combed through countless Wikis. I'd watched the show up until the seventh or sixth season, and that was about it since a friend warned me that the following seasons were a dumpster fire.
So, while I had a fairly good grasp of what would eventually transpire in this world, I remained in the dark about the precise timetable of these events and their exact dates. It was, in some ways, even more excruciating than knowing that time was running out.
For someone who had a penchant for overthinking and needlessly complicating matters like me, this situation was the stuff of nightmares, I tell you.
Worse than even the Thenn, who had nearly gouged my eye out over a year ago. Don't get me wrong, I still had nightmares about that bastard for weeks since he scared the shit out of me at the time, but I'd managed to get over it.
However, pondering and speculating how much time I had left had never failed to torment my sleepless nights.
Fortunately, I didn't require much sleep, thanks to my half-white walker physiology—or what some might call a failed one, depending on one's perspective.
...
In King's Landing, Varys acted with haste, approaching King Robert only moments after Lord Arryn's passing. He addressed the pressing matter at hand with a mixture of respect and urgency.
"Your grace," Varys began, offering a sympathetic nod, "I extend my condolences for your loss. However, we must consider who will assume Lord Arryn's responsibilities as soon as possible."
King Robert, still reeling from the shock of his friend's death, reacted with immediate anger. "Lord Arryn has barely taken his last breath, and you're already plotting to fill his shoes! Was this your doing?!" he exclaimed, his gaze shooting daggers at the spymaster.
Unfazed, Varys maintained his composed demeanor. "I have no desire to step into Lord Arryn's shoes, your grace. I am content with my current role, where I can serve the realm to the best of my abilities," he calmly reassured. "In fact, I would willingly accept my own execution should I ever vye for Lord Arryn's position," he added, managing to ease some of Robert's immediate anger.
Nonetheless, Varys swiftly returned to the primary issue. "Nevertheless, we cannot afford a void in Lord Arryn's responsibilities. Chaos will soon ensue unless we find a suitable replacement," he advised, subtly prompting the king to consider the challenges ahead.
With a begrudging sigh, King Robert acquiesced, "Very well... We shall discuss finding a replacement after we have paid our respects to Lord Arryn and laid him to rest properly."
As he turned his gaze back to his departed friend, he seemed to find some solace in the thought of honoring his memory.
...
In Winterfell, Lord Eddard Stark remained blissfully ignorant of the unfolding events in King's Landing.
Clad in his sturdy armor with his trusty sword secured at his side, he approached Ser Barristan and Tyrion, who were diligently preparing their horses for the upcoming journey.
"Are you both prepared to set forth?" he inquired, his gaze alternating between the two men.
Ser Barristan responded with a solemn nod. "Aye... we might as well get this over with.
Tyrion managed a wistful smile amid his disappointment. "As ready as one can be, though it's a shame that Lord Reed couldn't accompany us," Tyrion remarked, his head shaking in rueful contemplation. "I had many more questions about his people, you see," he added, genuine curiosity lacing his voice.
Lord Stark returned the smile, his thoughts momentarily drifting to their absent host. "Regrettably, Lord Reed's pressing duties necessitated his absence," he explained.
"Nevertheless, it's quite clear that he took a liking to you, Tyrion. I'm confident he'll be happy to recieve you as a guest in the future and satisfy your curiosity," Lord Stark assured.
"For now, we ride for the Wall..."
...
Back in the wildling camp, Gale had spent well over an hour honing his sword skills and reflecting on his journey. His blade sliced through the frosty air with precision, each swing a testament to his determination. However, he halted his practice when the sound of approaching footsteps reached his ears.
Turning swiftly, he discovered Mance Rayder making his way towards him.
Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Gale couldn't resist a touch of sarcasm. "A king of your stature come to fine me me personally instead of sending one of your royal subjects to fethch me, your grace? It must be a matter of dire import to warrant such an honor," he quipped, his tone laced with mockery.
Rayder chuckled. "It seems that even amidst my people, your inclination to bend the knee remains strong. As expected of a Southerner, I should say," he remarked, a wry grin touching his lips. "But you're correct. I do have a matter of grave consequence to discuss with you."
Rolling his eyes in mock exasperation, Gale retorted, "Very well, Your Royal Highness, let's not keep the world-shattering news waiting. What is it this time?"
Rayder's countenance turned earnest as he uttered his declaration. "It is time for you to return to the Night's Watch," he proclaimed, his voice carrying a weight of significance.
Status Power Mingguan
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