Capítulo 2: Chapter 2
The dragon's soul gives a person incredible potential, which is expressed in the growth of abilities of the bearer. Whatever Dovakin does, he will get better and better at it every time, whether it is wielding various weapons, crafts or horseback riding. In addition, the acquired skill does not dull over the years, and even at a very old age, the man with the soul of a dragon will still feel as comfortable in heavy armor and with a weapon in his hands as in his youth. Another nice bonus is the ability to go without sleep for very long periods of time without being harmed in any way.
The main problem with being in a new world was the loss of all these abilities. Jon remembered forging, archery, fighting, and more, but it was all new to his body. Consequently, it took a long time of training to catch up to at least the level it was even before Dovakin had reappeared in Skyrim.
Training too early would do more harm than good, and merging with a child's soul was not without consequence. Childish thoughts and perceptions lingered inside Jon for a long time, but were eradicated by frequent encounters with harsh reality. The name of which is Catelyn Stark.
But really, Dovakin was glad for the opportunity to have a few years of a relatively carefree childhood. A childhood that didn't require stealing to live to see tomorrow and fighting over food with other orphans. Dovakin would be lying if he said that the first years at Winterfell were not the happiest of his life, despite his origins.
Each new day began with exercise and a short jog around the castle or Winterfell, followed by a swim in the hot springs or a small forest pond. When Jon was seven years old, the Winterfell blacksmith fitted him with an old chainmail, in short, a birthday present. Now Jon could train his stamina as well, and he only took the armor off at the end of the day. He felt even more comfortable in the armor than without it-he'd spent years traveling around Skyrim and had adapted over time. The armor had no effect on his movements, speed, agility, or stealth, and he didn't feel the weight of it at all.
Next came training with his brother and apprenticeship with the maester, after which Jon would help in the forge. At the end of the day, Jon usually locked himself in his room and read or practiced the spells he had available to him due to his small age and still very small magical reserve.
Dovakin was not a strong mage, much less talented in matters of magic, and his combat spells could be laughed at by any adept of the school of destruction. But during his wanderings, he had achieved unprecedented skill in the School of Restoration and Change. He had also mastered the spells of the Schools of Sorcery and Illusion relatively well.
The first school was a must for someone who has to fight constantly: it helps to heal both himself and his companions, and over time, anyone using the school of restoration will learn to spend less magic on spells, while maintaining their effectiveness, and more quickly replenish their reserve.
The School of Change allows you to perform simple but necessary magical manipulations and resist magical attacks. A relatively skillful mage in Nirn could cost a hundred foot soldiers, and this had to be countered, and there were not many mages in Skyrim who were friendly to Dovakin. The ubiquitous necromancers, vampires and cultists, sorcerers and Falmerians, and agents of the Thalmor were only a small fraction of those mages.
The first time Jon tried sorcery was when he cured a raven baby that had fallen out of its nest. The attempt was successful, but exhausted him dry. What he was most pleased about, however, was that the dragon's soul had apparently retained the ability to cast sorcery without the use of Thuom. Magic was alive in this world, but few could use it.
Snow began to conjure at every suitable opportunity, trying to remain undetected, and the characteristic light from his left palm was so dim and unnoticeable that it was still hard to see, even if one looked closely. "Oak Flesh" helped to not suffer so much from missed blows during training and fights with local kids, 'Healing' gave the opportunity to recover, and 'Candlelight' - to read books at night. "Muffling Footsteps" and no one would notice him while stealing food from the kitchen.
Constant training yielded results: his stamina and magical strength increased, his muscles grew stronger, and in a training fight against John, even boys a couple years older than him were hard to stand up to. Pretending he was inferior to his brother was getting harder and harder.
It would have taken much longer to achieve such results if it weren't for the great physical strength of the original owner of the body. It soon became apparent that John could control his raven and see through its eyes. Three nights of searching the books for the answer, and it became clear that the boy was Varg. Urgent time had to be found to master these abilities already.
***
Winterfell Castle, morning.
Jon was awake before the first light of the sun, as usual; he was almost always up this early. He had intended to spend the previous night reading, but there was a reason that prevented him from doing so. The boy lowered the blanket, and a small black-haired head that belonged to that very reason emerged from beneath it.
- Arya, get up," he addressed his three-year-old sister.
The girl had snuck into his room at night because she'd had another nightmare and asked her brother to sleep with her. She did it from time to time, and of all her brothers, John was her favorite, though she would never admit it.
- It's still early," she answered and covered her head with the blanket.
- You need to get back to your room before the servants or your lady mother come to wake you.
The girl sighed heavily and lowered the blanket before reaching out her arms to her changing brother and mumbling sleepily:
- Carry me.
John smiled and lifted her into his arms, her tiny arms wrapped around his neck, and the girl continued to sleep, now in her brother's camisole. He only ruffled her hair, watching her wrinkle through her sleep.
John quietly and carefully made his way to his sister's chamber, trying to be unnoticed, as very few servants roamed the corridors at this early hour. Having accomplished his mission, the bastard went for a run.
...
- Come on, Jon!" little Arya urged her brother.
- Come on, Robb! - it was little Bran who shouted.
The boys were sparring again. Jon smiled at his sister and, gripping the practice sword with a reverse grip, struck again. Robb still had trouble reading his brother's attacks when he changed his grip several times during their training fights. The round shield, which he was able to use to deflect attacks, helped. Jon didn't use it at all, he claimed he was much more mobile and faster without it, but in fact Dovakin hadn't used a shield since his service in the Imperial Legion. There it was essential for fighting in formation.
With a shield, it is difficult or even nearly impossible to conjure with the left hand, as you have to hold the straps with the palm of your hand. John had learned to make the necessary passes with the palm of his hand in such a way that no one would pay attention to it, or they were just used to his strange movements.
- Claw! - Snow shouted, and the raven on Arya's shoulder flew up and perched on Robb's head, pecking at the young Stark. For a moment, the heir to Winterfell hesitated. It was enough for the bastard to successfully knock his brother's sword out of his hand and knock him to the ground with a kick to the shield. The bird flew upward and cawed nastily.
- You lost to the bird, Robb! - Arya giggled, clutching her stomach.
- The bird! A bird! - Bran echoed her.
Jon walked over to his brother, lying on the ground, and gave him a hand to help him up.
- You cheated," Robb said indignantly.
- If your opponent wants to kill you, a real opponent, he won't fight by the rules," Jon looked back at Rodrik Cassel, who nodded. Robb took his brother's hand and rose from the ground.
- Again," Rodrik commanded, and the boys began another fight.
The courtyard resounded with the clatter of practice swords clashing against each other and the cheers of the younger Starks. The boys were having a good time, both of them clearly bruised now, despite the protection they wore. Lord Stark and his wife looked out into the courtyard. At that moment another fight was over. Eddard gestured for Rodrik to come to him.
Robb was victorious this time, and like his brother, he helped his defeated opponent to his feet under his father's approving gaze and his mother's glare, though the latter was directed at the bastard.
- Jon," Arya called out to her brother.
- What?
- You promised we'd go fishing at the pond in the Wolfswood.
- Let's go," Snow smiled at her sister and ruffled her hair again, ducking and running around her brother. - Just find Jory Cassel and ask him to come with us.
Arya quickly ran off in search of the captain of the guard.
- I didn't know Jory liked to fish.
- He doesn't, Robb. But her parents wouldn't approve of Arya going into the woods without a proper escort.
- What kind of catch are you hoping for?
Jon looked up at the balcony where his lord father stood with his wife. Smiling, the lad answered:
- 'For trout,' the raven perched on his master's shoulder and cawed approvingly.
***
Winterfell Castle, evening
In what had become a familiar evening at the castle, the children were gathered around the fireplace in the wizard's hall. There were Lord Stark's sons, the servants' children, and even Sansa and her friends sitting nearby in the company of Septa Mordain. They were all listening intently to the tales the Winterfell bastard was telling the children. They were not as gruesome as the ones old Nan had told, but they were not repetitive, and the boy told a new story each time. John, for his part, went on:
- And so the hero stumbled through a sealed door, he was unable to open or kick it open, and behind it the sorcerer kept hiding, probably hoping to wait it out and continue his rampages afterward.
- And what happened next? - Arya asked impatiently.
- Fortunately, the goddess was on the hero's side. She illuminated the room with her divine light, its beam traveled from one crystal to the next, and then the last door opened.
- Why would a goddess help a mercenary? - The septa asked indignantly.
- The goddess hates dark sorcery and the dead that were raised with it. She was furious that someone had desecrated her sanctuary. So she ordered a mercenary to cleanse her temple. She didn't really care who exactly did it, not even the local pig farmer," John answered her, some of the children giggled.
- What was behind the door? - one of the children asked.
- There was an evil sorcerer, surrounded by his vicious shadows, the kind of wychs that are black as night with red eyes that burn with flames. The mercenary was outnumbered.
- How did he defeat them?
- He took poison from his bag and applied it to the arrow to weaken the mage, but neither he nor his servants noticed the door to the hall open. The mercenary was about to kill him with a single shot, but hit him in the leg.
- A true knight would never use poison, it's dishonorable," Sansa said, indignantly.
- And would have been slaughtered by his enemies," Jon parried under the sept's burning gaze. - So, that weakened the mage, and our hero rushed toward him to finish him off, but the vicious shadows blocked his path. He took his axe in his free hand and cut through them, and the recovered mage was no match for him without his guards.
- Is this the end? - Arya asked sadly.
- Well, he fulfilled his promise to the goddess, and she granted him her sword, capable of carrying her magical light, and urged him to continue cleansing the north of evil.
- Tell me about the sword.
- It was a beautiful one-handed sword of medium length with a not the widest blade, engraved in an ancient language. It had a unique round-shaped guard, from which a bright light emanated, and its blade blazed with fire and could slash its owner's enemies with it.
- I want one of those! - Arya jumped in her seat.
- It is not proper for a lady to wave a weapon," the sept said instructively. - The tales are too cruel, and the gods are wrong.
- Wrong because they are not false, unlike yours? - Jon asked, and the children giggled, and the septa grimaced and led Sansa and her friends away from the hall.
- Tell me more," Arya asked him.
- It's late, little sister, what will your lady mother say? - The girl lowered her head sadly as the rest of the children began to disperse.
- Well, John..." the girl decided to whine.
Snow sat down on his knees and, looking into his sister's eyes, said:
- Come on, you go to bed now, and tomorrow I'll tell you how the hero lured the dragon into a trap in the castle and locked him there.
- A real dragon!?
- A real one, only you have to go to bed.
- Okay," Arya agreed, and after hugging her brother before bed, she headed towards her room.
- Where do you get all these stories? - Robb asked him.
- A very rich imagination," Snow replied, smiling.
***
Jon was sitting on one of the empty crates near Winterfell's forge, finishing his bow. It was a bow as long as the boy himself, made of yew wood. Snow was attaching horn notched inserts to the ends of the bow to hold the bowstring in place, saving the weapon from being crumpled and split by the bowstring.
It took him several days just to find a suitable yew tree in the Wolfwood. Yew doesn't rot, it's flexible, lacks resin pockets, and it doesn't develop cracks. The best onions come from yew that grows slowly. He had to look for a place with bad soil, but his efforts brought results. All that was left was to make enough arrows for himself and shoot, there was still time. John intended to ask his father for permission to go to war with him.
The bastard watched the horsemen and foot soldiers converge on the castle and Winter Town in an almost continuous stream. The Mormonts, the Glovers, the Boltons, the Amber's were only those whose banners the boy had seen in person. His father's bannermen were arriving, and soon he would be traveling with them, first to Caelyn's Moat and then, most likely, to Lannisport. Near the isthmus they would join up with the Manderley and Carstarks.
John took his bow and headed towards the archery range, needing to test the weapon. Snow paced the courtyard, trying to avoid the soldiers, the omnipresent servants and his father's guards, not to get in their way or get in their way. He didn't even notice when he bumped into someone. The boy lost his balance and fell to the ground.
- Be careful, little wolf, or you'll get stepped on," a girl's voice came from somewhere above.
John looked up. A tall, black-haired girl towered over him. Her hair was straight and long, and her eyes were brown, with a twinkle in them. Her nose was thin, her lips were plump, and there was a faint scar on her left cheek from a cut. She was dressed in a chain mail with a green surcoat over it, with a bear on the surcoat. The girl was young and attractive, not more than twenty years old. The joy of seeing a northern warrior healed his wounded pride. It was unusual to spend so much time in the north and not see the warriors that were everywhere in Skyrim. That oversight had finally been rectified.
- I'm sorry, my lady," the boy addressed her, rising.
- Are you hurt? - The girl asked with interest.
- Only my pride is hurt, Lady Mormont.
- And how did you know who I am?
- You have a big bear on your clothes.
- That's right! - The girl giggled and gave John a friendly tap on the shoulder. The girl seemed like a giant against his background: she was a hundred and eighty centimeters tall or more. - If you're so smart, can you guess my name?
- You're too young to be Mage Mormont, my lady.
- Thank you," the girl snorted.
- Then you are one of her daughters. I don't know your age, but it clearly indicates that you are either Daisy or Alisana. I'm going to assume that I'm Dacey, the war is a good opportunity for an older child to become famous.
- You got it, little Stark.
- I'm not a Stark, My Lady.
- But you're an exact duplicate of Lord Stark.
- I have Lord Stark's blood in me, but I am not a Stark," the girl crouched down so they were the same height. She took his hands in hers and whispered conspiratorially:
- Lady Stark may not be your mother, but the fact that you are a Stark is perfectly obvious, you don't even need a name.
- Thank you.
- I'm from a bear in the woods, so you and I are the same.
The boy smiled warmly and suddenly, even for himself, put his arms around the girl's neck. Her arms closed around his back in response.
- You'll show them all, little wolf.
***
John entered the sept. As the boy had planned, he found his father's wife there, the woman finishing her prayers. Aside from her and Sansa, no one was in the septum and the seven were praying. No one - for all of Winterfell and Winterfell Town combined. Pragmatism said it was a great waste to build a septum and keep a septon for two men. And most Northerners were followers of the Old Gods.
- What do you want? - Lady Stark said coldly.
- I wanted to ask you to speak to Lord Stark," he deliberately did not call Ned father, diplomatically hoping to smooth things over. He'd never called him father in front of her.
- If you want something from my husband, you can go to him yourself.
- He turned me down, and you can convince him.
- And what should I persuade him of?
- To let me go to war with him. As a squire, as a henchman, or to help with the wagon.
- And why would I help the fruit of sin?
- Because you would benefit from it. The war could drag on while I'm away from the castle. Maybe I'll impress someone and they'll take me in, Lord Stark can't say no if someone asks for me. Oh, and there's something else..." the woman arched an eyebrow questioningly.
- And what is that?
- Not everyone will return home, maybe me included.
The woman looked into the boy's eyes and for a moment was horrified to realize that he was being completely serious. Did he really think she could send a child to war to keep him from coming home, much less convince her husband to do so? She wanted to hug the boy and reassure him that she didn't wish him dead, to confess and apologize for begging the Seven for his death. She wanted to do that, but she didn't. Instead, she asked:
- Suppose I succeed in convincing my husband, this is a good opportunity to get rid of you. It will only bring me joy, even if only for a while, but I will do it, I promise. But how can I talk him out of it if he wants to take Robb with him? I don't want my firstborn to die," Catelyn assumed the boy had nothing to say to that argument, and that he would stay in the castle despite his desire to go to war. Snow won't want to risk his brother; he's attached to all his legitimate siblings.
- It's simple. There must always be a Stark in Winterfell, nothing will happen to him without Snow.
The boy smiled, and Catelyn was already regretting making the promise. There was no turning back. "When did that bastard get so smart?" - Her mind raced.
***
Winterfell, the day of departure
Arya Stark was crying and loudly resentful. She demanded of her brother and father that they not leave for the war. Young Stark behaved inappropriately for a lady, but everyone turned a blind eye, realizing how worried the girl was. After a while, realizing that it would be impossible to change her father's mind, she began to ask her father to leave at least Jon in the castle. He was ready to agree, but saw Jon and Catelyn shake their heads negatively. It seemed the girl did not want to part with her bastard brother any more than she did with her own father.
Little Bran, in short, didn't know what was going on at all. He certainly didn't like the large gathering of unfamiliar people in the castle and the town nearby. He would be equally shocked when they all left and he found that there were fewer people in the end than there had been before.
Jon hugged Arya and Robb goodbye, ignoring the disapproving glances, which after recent events had been joined by one from the sept of Mordain. Sansa said goodbye only to her father, carefully imitating her mother and copying her pattern of behavior as much as possible. After Lord Stark said goodbye to his family and left the castle surrounded by guardsmen, the troops marched south.
***
The army of the North moved south along the King's highway. The road was not in the best condition and had clearly seen better days. Keeping such a long road in good condition is difficult. John tried not to think about what a road that wasn't on the royal road looked like. The terrain was mostly flat, but after the fourth day of travel, hills began to appear. The Northern Kingdom was several times larger than Skyrim and seemed deserted against its backdrop.
After the seventh day, the weather turned nasty, and they had to take breaks after hikes of eight or even five hours. If they did not quicken their pace, they might be late for the war. When someone picked up on this in conversation, another person would often make a joke about the late Freys, and the soldiers would laugh.
John traveled in the wagon and was there for the entire duration of the war campaign - this was his father's stipulation. He was allotted a pony and traveled on horseback, avoiding walking or traveling in a wagon. He was often kept company by Daisy Mormont, with whom the boy had made friends, and sometimes little John Amber joined them. The heir to the Last Hearth was five years older than John, Daisy was eight years older. They joked and told each other stories. In the evenings they joined soldier companies and listened to veteran tales.
At Dacy's request, Jon told some of his Northern hero stories, and she listened to them happily while she was at Winterfell. The soldiers liked them, and thereafter a company gathered around Jon almost every night. Small at first, and then of a couple or a few dozen people. Dovakin told a few soldier's tales from his time in the Imperial Legion, from the war with the Altmer, and from the civil war in Skyrim. He had to rearrange them in a Nordic manner and say that he had overheard them somewhere. The warriors liked it so much that they helped the wolfboy with his work, and sometimes did it in his place so that the boy would be free in time for the evening.
His duties included helping to set up camp, whether it was setting up tents or anything else. He chopped wood, washed clothes, and went out into the woods during campouts to look for game or berries, less often to fish. Collecting forage was also a regular part of the job. When it was learned that he was educated, he was put to intellectual work. He counted the supplies and weapons, reported what was missing, and paid the wages of the workers, supervised by soldiers, of course. There was little chance of anyone wanting to take silver from a child.
Along with him in the wagon were children, old men who could no longer hold swords, merchants of all kinds, and women, mostly old women, widows and orphans, who for one reason or another had decided to go with the men on the campaign. Some wanted to give their mother's care, some wanted to get lucky and enrich themselves during the war, others simply had no other choice. We cannot fail to mention the whores, they were there too, even though there were women willing to give their "love" for free, there weren't enough of them for everyone. There were also a few silent sisters. Their duties included caring for the wounded and dead, but there were only a dozen of them for an army of many thousands. They were to be joined by two hundred more from White Harbor. Children and maritant women were John's main company while traveling.
John, along with his new friends, rode to the beginning of the army. His father asked him to catch his eye periodically to let him know he was all right. John himself suspected that Dacey had been assigned to him as a babysitter for reassurance, the girl didn't mind that. She admitted that she'd always wanted a little brother.
He aligned himself with Lord Stark, the latter just noticing him.
- There's Moat Cailin," his father addressed him, pointing to the fortress standing on the moors.
- The second Stark castle, right? - A little Jon Amber scratched his head.
- Fortress," Snow corrected him.
- What's the difference? - He didn't understand.
- A castle serves as a feudal lord's administration and home. There are many other buildings within its walls: barracks, forge, treasury, storehouse, prison, and more. A fortress, in turn, is simply a plot of land or a few purely residential buildings surrounded by a wall.
- What do you think of Moat, John? - his father spoke to him.
- It's-" Snow struggled to find the right word.
- Impressive? - Lord Stark smiled.
- More like flawed. Incomplete, infirm, unfortunate. Those are appropriate words," Lord Stark's eyes widened in shock. The other vassals riding nearby did their best to hide their coughing laughs. Not all of them succeeded. Lord Bolton stared intently at the bastard.
- Explain why you think that. This fortress is impregnable, a gateway to the north, his shield against threats from the south.
- This fortress belongs to House Stark," Jon began cautiously, aware that the eyes of all the northern lords here were focused on him. - But in fact it's just a ruin. Three towers and a wooden palisade. It's a blow to House Stark's prestige. The fortress that belongs to us-- I mean you, Father-- lies in ruins, the fortress of the chief house in the north. What do you think of the Starks, knowing that? Nothing good," the boy said quietly.
- Go on," Lord Bolton said quietly, but he was heard.
- It is this fortress that all those who travel north by land pass by, and what they see, as I said, is not a fortress, but ruins. The fortress is poorly defended from the north, though it is considered impregnable. Oh, and the swamp dwellers probably know the paths to get around it, if even one of them betrays the North and leads the enemy through the swamps, the Moat can be captured from the North. Ironically, the shield for the North was captured from the north, not the south.
The lords gaze remained on the boy. Conclusions too clever for a child made the lords themselves think, and the next phrase brought them all out of that state:
- Forgive my impertinence, father. I am ready to bear any punishment, - these were exactly the words that in this situation the bastard should have said. And Jon said them: he didn't forget that to everyone around him he was just an ordinary bastard, and he knew that the others wouldn't forget it either.
***
The rest of the journey of the united army took almost a month. The Isthmus reminded Jon of the Argonians' homeland of Blackthorn, still the same unfriendly, resource-starved swampland full of snakes and other dangerous creatures. It rained heavily in the Riverlands, and the roads were washed out, which was not conducive to a quick advance. At the end of the journey, the walls of Lannisport appeared before the northern army.
Status de energia semanal
-- Ranking de
Poder 
-- Pedra de
Poder