Capítulo 173: Chapter 9 - Living in Riverrun
Chapter 9 - Living in Riverrun
-Beginning of 272 A.C-
-11 years old-
I slowly, and very carefully began to put the pieces of iron I had prepared beforehand into the clay crucible I had molded on the day before. Sadly, my last one had once again broken and I had to make a new one. Finely powdered coal followed, along with a bit of wood and grass, to keep oxygen from reaching the iron during the long smelting process.
"Are you still trying to create that strange metal of yours, boy?" A loud voice yelled out behind me, and I sighed, turning around to address the other apprentice of the smith of Riverrun.
"Listen here, it's not strange, and when I manage to create it, it's going to blow the best castle-forged steel out of the water, no problem." Though it still would be inferior to Valyrian Steel, though that kind of steel was ridiculous. It made no sense for something to be lighter, but at the same time sharper and more durable. I sighed and shook my head, letting go of the frustrating thought, and went back to my crucible.
I attached the cover on top and then coated it and the crucible with more clay, to seal it off entirely. I had failed to do it once, and my result had been a diluted piece of metal that was nearly impossible to reuse, and since then I always made sure to close the crucible properly.
"Can't believe that you learned a woman's work." The apprentice, whose name was Garse, said once again, and this time I turned around and pointed at him.
"Listen, you might be the family smith of the Tullys, but I'm the fucking bastard of the family, which makes me still more valuable than you, you piece of crap. If you have no work to do, you should get out, now!" Garse's previously smug face quickly formed an angry expression, and the older boy stomped closer, his fist drawn back.
"Hit me then, if you want to! Don't think I won't punch back though." I and Garse had started on the wrong foot since I got here. It all started when I, a boy who was three years his junior, started to impress his master more than he did. Since then we always argued and sometimes fought, though the latter stopped since I had sent Garse into dreamland with one strong slap. Even I had been surprised at my strength, especially because it seemed as if it had somehow increased after I had finally fully recovered from my wound.
Well, ever since that not-so-friendly sleep pill, Garse had tried to undermine my work at every possible corner, though I have to admit that he was at least fair with his criticism.
"Not worth it." The older boy spat out and then walked out of the smithy, his head still red from anger and perhaps shame.
I on the other hand continued with my latest experiment, namely my until now futile tries to make Wootz steel, a material that would be much better for manifuctaring swords than what I had been working with prior. Ever since I had that strange dream, the idea just didn't disappear anymore. The moment the smith of Riverrun had given me the permission I had started to experiment, trying to slowly inch closer to the metal that I truly wanted. And of course, there were more than a few problems.
I had to build my own oven for the crucible that I had sculptured by hand. And while I wasn't a bad builder, I needed time to look for stones that were heat-resistant enough to contain the flames and also keep them the same. Adding to that, I had to substantially increase the amount of coal we had in the smithy, as I needed to keep the oven at a stable temperature at all times, which meant I had to make charcoal the old way.
The "old way" meant that I had to arrange logs in a conical heap around a wooden post, make a little fire shaft that I had to cover to keep the air out, and then ignite the pile while also making sure that the temperature wasn't too high or too low, otherwise the charcoal wouldn't even emerge. Of course, I wasn't alone in my endeavor of getting the charcoal, I had someone teach it to me in the first place, and then paid them to help me make a larger quantity.
After finally having enough charcoal I could start with my experiments, which all consisted of trying to find the right combination of iron, charcoal, wood, and other materials that were needed. And all of that between other matters, like sparring and lessons with my new Maester. It took me more than three months to get something I was happy with, and only then the real making process of the steel started. Crucible after crucible was made, iron after iron was used and one failed experiment after another. I got close sometimes, at least that's what I hoped, but something always lacked. Too much air had touched the metal, the crucible had cracked during the melting process or the dosage wasn't quite right. In the end, all I had been stuck with were failures.
Which was why I was praying that this try would succeed. I made sure that the lid on the crucible was tightly sealed and that the oven had enough charcoal to last for at least 10 hours before I had to refill it again. Then I took one of my tongs and put the crucible into the oven, before closing it until only a small opening, through which the smoke should escape, remained. I let out a deep breath I hadn't realized I was holding and then took off the blacksmith clothing I had worn, massaging my sore wrists as I did so, and left the forge after what must have been hours.
"Attack!" A now already familiar young child jumped against my back and didn't do much more than tickle me.
"Lysa, aren't you supposed to have lessons right now?" I asked, picking the much smaller girl off my back, making her giggle slightly.
"No, I'm already done with my lessons. But shouldn't you already be at the training yard? I'm quite sure that uncle is already waiting for you."
"Where do you think I was going, to my room?" Lysa shrugged her shoulders.
"Dunno, but you should be grateful that I'm reminding you in the first place." She said, and I chuckled before I set her down. Lysa and I had quickly grown close, though I guess it was most likely because I would often play with her when I had the time. Catelyn was by far not as easy to reach, seeing as she always had lessons when I didn't, which led to our relationship to be not as good as mine and Lysa's.
"Well, thank you, little Tully princess. Do I have your permission to go now?" I said, bowing slightly as I said those words, making Lysa giggle out loud once again.
"You may," she said, making a dismissive wave that was fake.
"Well then fair lady, goodbye then," I said, and quickly began to jog in the direction of the training yard, hoping that my teacher would understand my delay.
*****
The mace crashed against my opponent's shield and I could see how he was sent reeling by the blow, before he quickly recovered and advanced again, his blunted sword easily pushing past the gaps in my defense and nearly hit my gambeson, which I avoided by taking a quick step back. I retaliated almost immediately, sending my mace once more against the shield of my enemy, slowly beginning to crack it. But before I could recover from the blow, which I had overextended, I had a sword held against my throat, ending the sparing round. I sighed and let the round mace, which just didn't feel right in my hand, drop to the ground.
"Not bad Donar, but you overextended yourself in the last hit. Maces, and blunt weapons in general, aren't swords. They have to be used in short, but bone-shattering strikes. That makes them more predictable." Desmond Grell, my sparring partner and second teacher after Brynden, told me, before picking up the mace I had dropped and demonstrating it.
"Your movements have to be precise, short but also give you room to defend." He said and then showed me a series of different striking combinations.
"But the most important thing for such maces, especially a heavier one like you use, is the fact that their goal is to crush, break, or even kill the opponent. You can't just lightly disarm enemies with a mace or War Hammer, instead, you have to bat their weapons from their hands or even break them." Desmond said and then walked over to a training dummy.
"Here, I'll show you." He reared his arm back and unleashed a strong blow, but instead of fully committing to the swing, he tried to stop it before the head of the mace hit the target, which resulted in the mace's speed decreasing dramatically. It bounced off the "head" of the practice dummy but still left a dent behind.
"See? I tried to lighten my blow during my swing and thus killed my momentum. If you truly want to learn how to wield a War Hammer or mace, you should always know that your blows are going to damage something when they land." I nodded at the older man's words, understanding what he meant.
"Yes Ser, I understand. But I do have one question." Grell turned to me, one of his eyebrows raised.
"Then ask."
"Are maces allowed in tourneys?" Desmond smiled slightly and then chuckled.
"You are asking because of the tourney that is being held in honor of the King's tenth year of ruling, am I right?" I nodded.
"Yeah, I thought about participating in the squire's melee," I said and took the mace that Desmond had once again offered me.
"While the weapons that are allowed in the tourney are specified by the one who organizes it, I would advise against going other squires with a mace, even a padded one. Grown men have already fought against them, but it's rare to see a blunt weapon on a squire."
"Wouldn't that just give me an advantage?" I asked, and the older man nodded.
"It would, but do you want to be the reason why a few of your fellow squires might be unable to move their arms ever again?" At my confused look, he sighed and turned around.
"Donar, your body might have been blessed by the Seven to have such great strength, but you still lack control over the mace and War Hammer. One wrong move and your sparring partner is crippled for life. I can respond to your attacks, but what happens if you meet squires who can't?" I was silent, remembering the punch that had cleanly knocked out Garse, and sighed, before nodding.
"I understand."
"Good, it's important that you do," Desmond said before he looked at Brynden, who had been leaning on a wall not far away from us.
"Ser, should I continue with the boy's sword training or do you want to have the honors?"
Brynden smiled at the man's words and quickly picked up one of the practice swords that were all laid out on a table. He flipped it into the air, letting it spin until he caught it again, throwing a smile at me.
"I think I can teach him a few things." He said, even having to gall to throw me a wink.
'Oh no you don't.'
I walked to the table and also picked up a sword, a bastard sword to be precise, and swung it a few times to get used to its weight.
'Perhaps I could carry different kinds of weapons on my body in the future? For different situations perhaps.'
I stopped my swings and let my finger run over the edge of the blade, feeling the craftsmanship behind it. This sword was of course not sharpened, but it could still hurt and injure a person if I wasn't careful.
"Are you worrying about me, boy? Or are you perhaps scared?" I heard Brynden's voice from the other side of the training yard and sighed. Ever since we had started training together, he had always tried to get the rise out of me to lower my guard. I couldn't count the times how often I had truly fallen for it.
"As if. You should be more worried about yourself." I said, readying the sword in my hand.
"Oh, I'm already quivering." The older man said the very uncharacteristic smile still on his face.
"Sure," I said, rolling my eyes as I got closer to Brynden, ready to start the sparing match.
When I was only a few feet away from him however I saw how his stance changed, going from relaxed and seemingly full of openings to a much more centered one. He might have looked like he was joking, but his martial prowess was the single greatest I had seen in my entire life.
Which didn't mean that much, seen as I never had seen other legendary knights, but Brynden was a monster even without any context.
I was the first to attack, the sword in my hand stabbing forward to catch the older man in his stomach. He responded by easily batting my blade away, and retaliating by quickly slashing across the front of my gambeson. I grunted but managed to catch the end of his sword before he could retract it and grabbed it as tight as I could with one hand, while the other delivered an overhead blow. Brynden had already seen through it and wrenched the blade from my grip just in time to dodge the impact and shove me back to create more distance between us.
My feet dug into the earth to not lose their balance, and my muscles tensed as I went on the offensive once again. Stabs, swings, overhead blows, feints, all of them were either deflected, blocked, or dodged completely. Though at least they kept the older man at bay, forcing him to play more defensively. But I knew that Brynden would soon find an opening, and I was right. I mistimed a lunging stab and paid dearly for it, grunting in pain as I felt how the blunted sword hit me in the head.
I did manage to grab the blade once again, however, and kept a tight grip on it as I fell backward. Brynden had most likely realized his mistake too late, as my weight pulled him to the ground too. I landed first and immediately stood up and attacked my sparing partner, who still hadn't been ready to collide with the ground. I even managed to get two good hits in, one that collided with Brynden's chest and the other that hit his arm as he only managed to somewhat deflect it. But then Brynden had already recovered and forced me to evade a wide swing. I could still feel how the air created by the swing rustled through my hair.
Brynden stood up and promptly charged at me, his shoulder colliding with my stomach, and forced me further back, before I felt a swing connect with my gambeson-clothed form. I blocked some of the blows that followed, but I otherwise had to take them until I finally found an opportunity to strike back. My sword clashed against his, and I could feel how it nearly was sent out of his hand.
Only nearly, however, because in this next moment, I was once again sent backward by a strike into my stomach. The next followed and impacted with my head before I was thrown to the ground.
"Do you yield?" Brynden asked, the blunt sword now pointed at me. He didn't look much worse for wear the only reason you could see why he fought me was because he was slightly panting.
"I yield," I said and remained on the muddy ground, staring into the blue sky above me.
"You don't seem to be tired. I reckon you still could go for a few rounds." I rolled my eyes and stood up.
"I could, but stamina isn't my problem, never was." I groaned as I stretched to get some feeling back into my body.
"My issue is that I just can't touch you with my current skill level. And seeing as you and I aren't even enemies on the battlefield, why would I continue fighting? To prolong my loss?" Brynden sighed and slightly shook his head.
"It's about honor Donar. Honor is something to be respected."
'And also something that could kill you, look at how far it got Eddard.' I silently added in my head but sighed and lifted my sword once again.
"Alright, let's continue the lesson." Brynden nodded and we circled each other again to start a new round.
*****
"You don't look too happy." The old man next to me said while I was reading a book in High Valyrian.
"Can't be so happy about having a blue eye, can I?" I asked Kym, the Maester who had served at Riverrun for decades.
"Did your father overdo his training?"
"Perhaps a bit, but at least I improved somewhat," I replied nonchalantly, though I was a bit angrier in reality. I understood the notion of training, but what Brynden had done today hadn't only been training. After I had picked up my sword again, he began to hit me even harder in the following spars.
"Speaking of improvement, how does yours in the languages progress?" I smiled at the master's words and nodded, a small amount of pride growing in my chest.
"Good, I would say that I can at least hold basic conversations with the people in the Free Cities, though they most likely would have to speak very slowly and without accent." The maester nodded, seeming satisfied with my answer, and smiled.
"I heard from Desmond that you plan on taking part in the squire's melee at the tourney, are you already aiming for glory at such a young age?"
"Not glory itself Maester, but much more so the chance to become a knight." I saw his eyes widen for a minuscule amount, but then he chuckled once again.
"Ah, I see. Being a knight certainly does make things easier for one." I nodded, closing the giant book as I did.
"Indeed Maester, it does. But may I ask you to let me leave a bit sooner than normal today? I still have a few things to do, namely, I have to fashion a few horseshoes on Catelyn's newest steed." The maester nodded, smiling as he did.
"Ah, Catelyn. That girl truly loves riding and also has a certain talent at it, though I've heard that the same doesn't apply to you." I coughed slightly, but couldn't hide the red sheen my cheeks were slowly taking on.
"I am not that bad, I just don't have enough time to properly practice." The Maester chuckled and waved me away, humor shining in his old eyes.
"I was merely jesting Donar. You may go and help Catelyn with the horseshoes."
I nodded at Kym's words and left the library, though not before putting the giant book back where it belonged, and went to the smithy where the current castle smith, Otho, was already working hard. As soon as he saw me, the relatively young man pointed at my oven and gave me a grin.
"Hasn't shattered yet."
"Great, so it could be a success after all."
"We'll see that." He said, once again dampening my enthusiasm.
"Thanks for the encouragement." I drawled out, and the smith gave me a thumbs up.
"You're welcome." I groaned.
Of all the blacksmiths I had met, Otho was by far the most sarcastic one.
"Donar, are the horseshoes done?" I heard the young voice of Catelyn and turned around to give her a thumbs up.
"Yeah, just go to the stalls and I'll be right behind you." Catelyn nodded and walked away, leaving me with enough time to grab the horseshoes I had made a few days ago and also make my way to the stalls. The horses inside were mostly the ones of the family or higher-ups, the guard's horses were accommodated somewhere else.
I walked past Brynden's and Hoster's horses, both stallions of extreme speed and strength, and stopped in front of Catelyn's steed that had been gifted to her by Lord Hoster himself. And it was a beautiful horse that would have resembled a Fjord horse from back home and if the rumours were true it had been bred in the Reach. I carefully petted the horse, though it seemed to shy away slightly from my rough hands. I looked at the stable helper and gave him proper instructions on how we would go about fitting the horse's shoes.
The process went by without much of a hitch, though I have to admit that I was a bit nervous while I worked so closely with the animal's hooves. One kick and I could have been injured. But when the last nail sank into the horse's thick hoof I let out a sigh of relief and stood up, smiling at Catelyn as I did so.
"And done, your horse should be able to run everywhere she wants to, Catelyn," I said as I stored the hammer I had been using.
"Thank you, Donar," Catelyn said and caressed the mane of her new horse. I waved her comment away, making a dismissive sound.
"I'm a blacksmith apprentice, it's my job. But if you do want to repay me, you should give this beauty a ride, and see if all horseshoes fit." Catelyn smiled and jumped on the horse's back with more grace than I ever displayed while riding a horse.
"Alright, but only if you accompany me."
As her words registered my face abruptly lost its smile and I got paler.
"I what?"
'No way in hell I'm doing it!'
*****
I grumbled as I rode on the back of a brown checkered horse, silently cursing my bad luck.
"Come on Donar, it's not that hard!" I looked in front of me and saw how Catelyn easily maneuvered around several trees with the grace of a fox.
'Not that hard she says.'
I let out a deep groan but then readied myself and followed Catelyn.
"You are way too stiff, just relax."
'Relaxing could mean that I break my neck, so no.'
"Donar, come on, just try to lead the horse more freely, don't grip the reins too tight." I looked at Catelyn, still somewhat doubting her words, but then slowly, very slowly, loosened my grip around the reins a bit, letting the horse breathe easier. And Catelyn had been right, the horse moved more freely and also seemed faster.
But, perhaps due to my carelessness, the horse seemed to get a sudden wish for freedom and suddenly charged forward, overwhelming me with the sudden burst of speed. It ran off the forest road we were on, directly into the dense forest with its trees. I heard Catelyn yell a warning, but I didn't manage to grab the reins in time anymore and promptly collided with a tree, well my shoulder did.
I felt my body fall off the still-running horse and slam into the ground. The air was driven out of my lungs and I wheezed, trying to get enough air into my lungs again. I could hear the sound of galloping, most likely Catelyn, as I slowly stood up.
"Donar, are you alright?!" I looked, no stared at the young Tully and was silent for a few moments.
"To be completely honest, yeah." Catelyn's worried expression turned into one of confusion, and she got off the horse.
"You got thrown off a horse and you are alright?" I nodded and smiled at her.
"Yeah, I'm tougher than I look. Anyway, let's look for that horse, it shouldn't be so far away yet." Just as I turned to do just that, my hand was seized and Catelyn dragged, or at least tried to drag, me over to her steed.
"No, we are going home, Maester Kym has to take a good look at you." I raised one of my eyebrows but then nodded as I saw Catelyn's teary eyes. Sometimes I forget that she was just a child too.
"Alright, don't worry, I'll visit the Maester." I helped her on her horse's saddle, took its reins, and began to walk alongside her.
"Catelyn?" I asked after we had walked a few minutes and when Riverrun was already in sight.
"Hm?" My cousin made a questioning sound, but nothing more.
"How about we go out riding more often from now on, you could teach me a thing or two. Heck, we could even take Lysa with us." Lysa smiled at my words and nodded.
"I would like that."
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder