Chapitre 2: Chapter 2
The dream was a success. The headache passed, my mind calmed down — the memories of me-Renly and me-Igor finally settled down. The body was filled with vigor and hunger.
Throwing off the blankets, I quickly got up, put on simple trousers and began to stretch my stale and active young body. It took no more than a couple of minutes for the doors to open and the most intelligent (encyclopediically speaking) man in Storm's End, better known as Maester Molis, entered the room.
"My Lord," he was a short, striving for an ideal figure, that is, a circle, a man as tall as my chest, who also had a magnificent mustache and graying hair on his head. — You seriously scared us with your morning unconscious sleep.
— There is no reason to worry, — immediately seeing how Molis pouted, intending to say the opposite, I quickly jumped up to him and grabbed the maester by the shoulders, — trust me, I feel great, except that I am hungry like a bear and ready to eat a whole deer alone.
"There's no need to worry about that," the maester reluctantly but quickly switched to a new topic, "your refectory is set, my lord, but I insist on taking a restorative tincture, as well as abstaining from excessive activity.
"Very well, my friend. Let me wash up, put on my shirt, and I'll come down.
"As you wish, my lord."
The maester bowed slightly and left the bedchamber, his chain clanking. Molis arrived here after Stannis took Maester Cressen with him, who has been serving as maester in Storm's End for a dozen years now... but that's a completely different story.
As soon as the maester left, two girls of twelve or thirteen years old ran into the room, not daring to look up at the illustrious lord. Modest dresses, snow-white caps, and a small basin and a jug of hot water.
After quickly completing my proper exercise routine and putting on a white shirt, I left the bedroom. Beyond the doors was a small landing with a spiral stone staircase going down, which was not very long. Downstairs there was a small hall one and a half times the size of my bedroom. This hall is used as a small reception room for the most faithful and loved ones, as well as a study. Well, I also eat here — the hefty oak table is too much for this. The decor is relatively modest: I repeat, a large table for meetings and lunch, standing in the distance, next to the window, a desk, several lamps on the walls and tapestries with a neutral theme (hunting and love).
Even lower, there is a large hall. That one is already furnished royally, and is truly huge. The great throne of the High Lord of the Stormy Lands towered over a hall that could accommodate hundreds and hundreds of people, a huge number of tapestries and engravings praising the House of Baratheon, numerous ceremonial and tournament armor, which at first glance and enthusiastic surprise, it seems, could be enough for a small army, weapons, expensive carpets from Dorne and Liss, hides, deer skins, deer... deer, deer, deer. There are deer everywhere. On tapestries, on engravings, on armor, on weapons, on dishes, on the throne... everywhere. Santa Claus's place, honestly. As a Russian person, it is closer to me to identify myself with bears, eagles or wolves, well, and deer... he is a deer in Africa. Nothing. We'll get used to it, and then maybe I'll even get a taste. Besides, a deer is better than some kind of herring.
The table was set very quickly. The maids brought a tureen, several slices of freshly baked bread, a jug of wild berry compote (Renly drank wine only on occasions, unlike one of his relatives) and a large plate of meat for every taste. The last to arrive was a vegetable stew, in which, thank the Gods, potatoes were floating. What would I do without her?
As soon as I plopped down on a chair, a deep plate was filled with soup with mushrooms and game meat. Thanking the maids with a warm smile, which caused a blush on their cheeks, I asked them to leave me. Bowing, they quickly trotted out and tightly closed the door behind them.
Cutlery is quite common for its time: a silver spoon, a knife with which you can go into battle and for lunch, a two-pronged straight fork. After quickly sipping the soup and satisfying the "first hunger", I began to eat meat without haste, drinking sour compote.
The measured movement of the jaw set up a certain mood, namely, a mental one.
Now, with a fresh head and a gradually filling stomach, one can definitely say... I am still Renly Baratheon, and I am in Westeros. In principle, this is not the worst option, because I am not Naruto, according to whom my younger children are fans, not Harry Potter, not Jedi and not Daenerys, which inspires. You should always remember that it could have been worse. Much worse.
But although everything is not so bad, we must not forget that it is the Middle Ages here. Although it is a fantasy, but the Middle Ages. Medicine is shit, education is shit, and in general people are dying like flies. Caught a cold? He died. Cut your finger? He died. Fucked a random prostitute? He died. Have you lived in the safest greenhouse conditions? He died of boredom. In short, the world is full of romance, adventure and sudden deaths.
So with such introductions, you need to think hard about where to go and what to do, and there are a great many options ... especially since I know the canon. At least, its main milestones.
It is now the end of 295 years from the Conquest of Aegon, plus or minus two years remain before the start of the book events, and the locomotive of history is already gaining its speed. You can just sit it out
***
It was worth remembering Loras, as he was right there. All such a beautiful, healthy blush, a camisole embroidered with flowers, a sword belt, a youngster's dream.
—My Lord,— the young knight bowed his head in greeting, his eyes sparkling.
— Oh, Loras, — smiling, greeted the knight ... I wanted to say "my boy", but I haven't grown up to Dumbledore yet, — I was just thinking about you. Join us.
"Thank you, my Lord, but I don't..." the future Knight of Flowers began to deny.
— Sit down, I need to talk to you. — I almost ordered in a serious voice, without a trace of a smile.
Loras, embarrassed, pushed the chair to my left, and sat on the very edge of it and began to devour me with his eyes. Soooo... and what should I tell him? How is this even done? Ehh, you'll have to give birth on the move.
— Are you glowing right from the inside? What is the reason?
—Last night, my lord. She gave me happiness. More than mastering the coveted golden spurs. — At the end of his words, he put his hand on top of mine... oh Gods... man, what's wrong with you?!
— Remember this night well, my friend, because it was the last. — I'm taking my hand away.
Until this moment, I had never seen a person turn from a blazing life into a gray mediocrity in a matter of moments, Loras faded right before my eyes.
— M... my lord... - well, don't cry just, well, your left.
Despite certain "disagreements" between us (one of them, in fact, gave rise to this unpleasant situation), now I really hoped that Renly would manifest himself in me to the fullest. His eloquence and knowledge of this guy should work two hundred percent if I want to get out of this without too much trouble.
— Yes, Loras. You became a knight by winning the recent tournament of knights and squires of Stormy Lands. You were my faithful squire, I could rely on you completely, and I hope that even after these cruel words we will remain friends. I am the High Lord of the Stormy Lands, as my father and grandfather were. Like them, I must pass on my patrimony, safe and sound, to my descendants. They turned a blind eye to my ... "addictions" while I was "young and stupid," but the carefree youth has passed, and numerous enemies are waiting for me ahead, who will not miss the opportunity to annoy me in any way. And sodomy, no matter how we feel about it, is a sin that can turn a huge number of people against me.
— Enemies? — Fortunately, Loras got hooked on this part. "But who dares threaten you, my lord?"
— Everyone who is not sitting at this table right now is my potential enemy. Loras's eyes bulged like a lobster in surprise, and the color began to come back to his face. "The title of High Lord of the Stormy Lands is a coveted trophy. Stannis cherishes his grievances, the wife of my older brother Robert greedily looks around in search of worthy patrimony for her younger children. And, frankly, the squire who does not want to become a lord is bad, and the lord who does not seek even more power is bad. So the storm lords are not averse to climbing the hierarchical ladder.
I fell silent and began, as if nothing had happened, to finish the venison... or is it boar meat? Not the point. Loras, staring into the void, comprehended what I had said. Slamming the door like an abandoned girl is not bad. If he gets into it and stays, it's even better.
—My Lord..." the flower knight finally froze. On time, otherwise the meat is already running out. Rising from the table and getting down on one knee, he looked into my eyes. The sight was unexpected. It pleased me, but, honestly, I did not expect it. What was looking at me now was not a courtly, ardent young man, but a knight. Knight. No matter how life turned out, no matter what skeletons lay in the closet, but a warrior raised on stories of honor, service and exploits looked at me, who was taught to kill his enemies and his lord from early childhood. The loyal medieval equivalent of a death machine, if you will.
"You can count on me, my lord. On the battlefield and in the world, I will be by your side.
— Stand up, Ser Loras, — and Renly's charisma is pumped ... I hope that it's not only her, — I don't need a knight — I have a lot of them... — Loras now seems to have a heart attack, canceling out all efforts. — ... I need a friend and colleague. Emphasizing my words, I stood next to him and put my hands on his shoulders.
Well, happy Loras hugged me in a fit of feelings, pressing his whole body... eh... okay. "Goodbye hugs." Fuck him, I'll put up with it. The main thing is not to kiss.
État de l’alimentation hebdomadaire
-- Classement
Power Stone 
-- Power
stone