章節 747: 41
Chapter 41: Ch 32 The Fatty And The Singer
Chapter Text
"Dacey! Why don't you head straight to the ships?" Jon suggested as the three of them emerged from the forest.
"Why?" Dacey inquired.
"We've struck a good deal with the Tyrells, and they'll soon be sending people to deliver a large shipment of crops. I need you to be there to oversee things," Jon replied with a smile.
"Alright then, but keep an eye on this one," Dacey said with a teasing smirk, pointing to Val. "She can be quite slippery,"
"Don't worry," Jon assured her with a smile while Val pouted at them.
With that, Dacey took a different path that led directly to the ports, while Jon followed the alley from where Val had previously entered.
"Where are we off to now?" Val asked eagerly, her excitement for exploring the south renewed after taking care of the nuisance, and with a few gold coins in her pocket, she was eager to indulge herself. She had her eyes on some items she'd seen earlier – a steel dagger, a new bow, or maybe a pair of those sturdy shoes...
"To eat," Jon said succinctly.
"What? But I just ate," Val protested, making a face. "And I'm not very hungry at the moment," she added reluctantly, finding it hard to decline food.
"You're not hungry, but I am," Jon said, rolling his eyes, "Besides, do you know the food I missed because of you... And the Tyrells are especially famous for the feasts they throw—"
"Shut up, Piggy,"
Jon was suddenly interrupted by a loud yell coming from the alley they were entering. The sight before him was unpleasant – a man with a malicious expression on his face, quite similar looking to the one he had just knocked out a few minutes ago, was viciously kicking a fat kid in the stomach.
The boy, around twelve years old with a round face, offered no resistance. He merely covered his head and curled up in a fetal position, whimpering, "P-Please, S-Stop! I am sorry!"
"I don't need your apologies, you pig!" the man, likely the other Redwyne twin, taunted with an unpleasant smirk. "I just need you to entertain me! My brother is probably enjoying himself, so it's your responsibility to make sure I don't get bored."
"P-Please, it hurts Ugh—"
"That's the whole point, Piggy," Redwyne sneered, grabbing the boy by his hair and forcing him to look into his eyes. "You're really pathetic. You know, your father wants you to become my father's page, hoping it will toughen you up... Humph! As if that were possible," he continued, slapping the boy with all his might. "And not only that, he wants to betroth my sister to you. My sister! As if trash like you could ever be good for her," he said before unleashing more brutal slaps.
"I-I am sorry! I don't want to marry your s-sister..." the boy pleaded, trying to shield himself.
"Ah, so now you think you're better than her," Redwyne scoffed, his hands aching from the slapping, so he resorted to kicking again. "You think just because you've read some books, you're smarter than the rest of us, huh... Well, you need to remember that you'll always be a fat coward and nothing else—"
Bang
Suddenly, the tormented boy heard a loud thud from above, and the kicks ceased. He cautiously opened his eyes to see a handsome young boy standing in front of him, with a sheathed sword in his hand. Behind him stood a beautiful girl, and at their feet lay the unconscious bully, knocked out by the boy's sword.
"Hello!" the handsome boy greeted with a warm smile while attaching his sword back to his waist nonchalantly, "I am Jon Snow," he said while extending his hand.
Sam flinched at the hand before he realised that he didn't intend to hit him. He blushed slightly as he took Jon's hand who pulled him to his feet with surprised ease, "I-I am Samwell Tarly," he introduced himself with a sniffle.
"Sam," Jon said, walking over the fallen Redwyne to Sam and wrapping a friendly hand around his neck, "Tell me, Are you hungry?"
"Huh..."
...
"What do you think of the boy?" Olenna inquired, taking a piece of cheese from the plate as she and her grandson enjoyed the sun on the balcony, just after the boy from the North had left them rather abruptly.
"About Jon?" Willas confirmed before continuing, "I think he possesses a fierce intelligence, accomplishing quite a lot at such a young age. Moreover, he has a good heart, making him a reliable partner for us for a long time and—"
"Is that it?" Olenna interrupted impatiently, shaking her head. "Is that all you can say? That he's a good boy! Your father would have been able to tell me that. You disappoint me, Willas," she tutted.
"I apologize," Willas responded, bowing his head without changing his expression. "Can you enlighten me then? Tell me what I missed," he asked with patience.
His grandmother was one of the smartest people he knew, always seeing things that he wouldn't be able to in a hundred years. She always told him to look underneath the underneath but he still fell short. Nevertheless, he hoped to learn her skill from her eventually.
"The first thing you should have noticed about him," Olenna began, taking a glass of wine from the nearby table, "is the way he talks and carries himself. It was evident from the start that the boy received a proper noble's education from a young age, which is unusual considering his parentage."
Willas suddenly interrupted her, "But we already know that Lord Stark loves the boy and has raised him alongside his siblings in Winterfell, despite being a bastard. Maybe it's that famous honour that he's known for that compelled him to educate and raise his bastard to adulthood,"
"Honor!" Olenna scoffed, displaying her thoughts about the notion. "Even if that's the case, there are still some traits common among bastards that were completely missing in him."
"What do you mean?"
"Bastards, especially those raised near their noble siblings, often feel envy towards their legitimate brothers and sisters. They crave their parent's love and the respect usually given to their siblings. When they can't attain these things, they become resentful, and it shows in their eyes... But this Jon Snow, I didn't see a drop of that from him... and if I didn't already know, I wouldn't have guessed he was a bastard given the charisma he exudes."
"That's just your prejudice against bastards," Willas responded, shaking his head. "You can't make a mountain out of a molehill just because he's a little confident,"
"Just because it's prejudice, doesn't mean it's wrong," Olenna retorted with a shrug. "And that's not all. The most important thing is the power he wields."
"Power?"
"Didn't you notice how that lass from House Mormont obeyed him, even though she's a noble? Moreover, he was able to demand and negotiate, striking a deal that would impact the whole North without hesitation, as if it was a given... One can only do that if they have the absolute trust of the Lord Paramount. It's a power I don't believe Lord Stark would grant anyone merely because they are his bastard."
Olenna kept one thing to herself – the moment she laid eyes on the boy, something flickered in her mind, as if she recognized him. Yet, she couldn't pinpoint what it was. There was something at the edge of her memory, a missing puzzle piece, eluding her grasp. She knew that if she could capture it, everything would fall into place.
Olenna abruptly turned to Willas and asked, "You're still in touch with that brute from Dorne, Aren't you?"
"Who—Oh! you mean, Obreyn," he said while rolling his eyes, "Yes, we exchange letters from time to time. Why?"
"I need you to write to him and ask him to send some people to look into a few things..." Olenna said with determination, 'Let's see if your history checks out, Snow,'
....
The moment the singer stopped playing the lute, the boisterous tavern erupted into a cacophony of mugs clanging, shoes thumping, and hands clapping, with people hollering for the singer to go again.
The room was dimly lit, filled with the smell of ale and smoke from the hearth. The singer had already performed the popular song "Bear and the Fair Maiden" multiple times at the rowdy tavern's demand, and this time, he was firm in his refusal, thanking the crowd with a smile and a bow, but refusing to pick up the lute again.
All the drunks groaned in disappointment, and an old fisherman, sitting at a table with his two similarly aged friends, called out to the singer, "Come here, Son." The singer happily obliged, sitting at their table with a relaxed smile, "Thank you, Old man."
"That was a good one, Lad, you deserve a drink on me," the old fisherman declared, turning to the bar and shouting, "Give the man a mug and keep them coming."
"Aye!" echoed the barkeep.
"So tell me, lad. Where do you hail from? and What brought you here?" the Singer was already a middle-aged man but considering the old fisherman's age, it was somewhat alright for him to call him lad.
"I am just a small-time wandering singer. I heard there was work to be found here in Barrowtown, so I picked up my lute and hit the road—" He was interrupted as the bartender placed a mug of Ale in front of him. "Thank you!" the singer said, taking a big gulp of the alcohol.
"Ah! That makes sense," the old man said and all three of them nodded their heads understandingly, "You're not the first nor the last. We've been getting a lot of visitors from all over the North recently."
"Aye," said one of the fisherman's friends. "I even heard a crofter saying he came all the way from Dreadfort!"
"The Land of Boltons?"
"Aye, imagine travelling all the way from there."
"Eh! Probably wasn't that hard considering those pink-eyed freaks in charge," the old fisherman scoffed.
"Haha, you got that right," his friend thumped him on the back, and they all shared a laugh.
"So how did it happen," The singer suddenly interrupted, "I mean the last time I came here, there was almost nothing around these parts... No big port... nor that huge wooden building in which they are making those strange horses, and I even saw some carts bringing stones all the way from the Quarries of the Mountain Clans to use for the Mormont castle... I mean it's just a lot has happened in just a couple of years... It's hard to believe,"
The three old men started exchanging strange glances with each other at that, each of them having a subtle smile on their face. The oldest one among them, who had kept quiet all this while, suddenly started speaking in a gruff, "I wouldn't believe it either... if I didn't see it happen with my own eyes. A few years ago all the people here could think about was how they would deal with the next Wildling attack or who would die the next time those Ironborn raiders came to our shores..."
The fisherman took over from there, "And if not that, then we would probably be worrying about how much of our crops we will be able to retain and how much would be destroyed by a sudden summer snow... so All in All there was not a lot we could think about doing except for surviving. But now..."
"Let's just say that we got a hell of a lot of free time on our hands now," the last man finished with a smile.
"Really," the Singer said sceptically, "So they just don't come here anymore?"
"Oh they do, not as much as they used to but, they still do!" the fisherman said before a fierce smile appeared on his face,
"The difference now is that none of them ever leave these islands alive."
"So... you manage to kill all of them? That's impressive."
"Of course!" the fisherman boasted proudly, "Let me tell you about the Wildling attack that happened not too long ago," he with his eyes gleaming, "Those Wildling fuckers thought themselves clever and decided to attack two places at the same thinking to catch us off guard... But do you know what happened in the end," the singer shook his head so he continued with a smirk on his face, "It was all the same anyway as the boy managed to kill off EVERY LAST ONE of them on his own," he finished before he emptied his cup and slammed it on the table with a satisfied burp.
"Not every one of them," the youngest of the three locals chimed in with a lewd smile, "Remember the pretty one?"
The singer's interest piqued, and the others rolled their eyes.
"I've seen her, I swear. She really is pretty! I bet even prettier than those southern lasses... but it's just... she's a Wildling," the youngest added, shaking his head.
"Ah! Fuck that," said the oldest with a growl, "The boy can have all the wildling beauties on that side of the wall if he wants to... considering all he's done for us,"
"Aye!" "Aye!" Both of them immediately agreed at the fierce look in the old man's eyes.
"It's really not much of a surprise, is it," the youngest said after a while, "Considering whose blood runs through his veins..."
"The boy," the singer suddenly interrupted again, "What did you say his name was..."
"Jon Snow!"
"Aye! This Jon Snow," The singer took a sip nonchalantly and asked, "Where do you think I could find him," he hurriedly continued at their suspicious looks, "You know I figure he would have some work for me..."
"Out of luck, lad," the fisherman shook his head. "He's not here at the moment."
"He's not on Bear Island?" The singer asked anxiously.
"Forget Bear Island," the youngest interjected, "He's not even in the north. He's sailing the open ocean seas far down south... probably enjoying that pretty Wildling—"
The Singer abruptly stood up,
"I should go now if I want to find an inn before dark," he said, pointing towards the dimming sun rays outside the window.
"Ah! Better hurry then," the fisherman nodded. "There's a good one in the middle of the market. Tell him Ryan sent you. Maybe he'll give you a discount."
"Thank you," the singer said and hurriedly left the tavern.
The moment he stepped a foot outside, all the rowdy noises of the tavern were muffled by the wind, he immediately lowered his head and took off but not towards the centre where the inns were, instead towards the exit of the town.
Only a few dozen minutes later, he had left all the man-made buildings behind him and before long, trees started appearing in his path but the singer didn't stop even for a second and entered the dense forest without hesitation even though the sun was just about to set. It took him about half an hour of brisk walking and climbing before he reached a cave hidden in the mountains.
He immediately sagged in relief as he saw the entrance of the cave and was almost about to enter when his instincts started screaming that something was wrong.
And his fears were realised when he saw his companion, the red-haired lass slowly coming out of the cave, but he noticed that her hands were tied, and a gag muffled her voice. Another girl, around the same age, stood close, holding a dagger to the red-haired girl's throat and guiding her forward.
The red-haired girl's eyes widened as if trying to convey something urgent. Fear and urgency gripped the singer, and he instinctively reached for his sword, but he froze when he suddenly heard a voice behind him, "Ah! Ah! Ah! I wouldn't do that if I were you... Now raise your hands and slowly turn around... That's right, Slow and easy..."
The singer slowly turned around to find a man standing behind with a bow in his hands with an arrow knocked straight at him, "Welcome home singer...or should I say, Mance Rayder, The King-Beyond-The-Wall," the young man said with a smirk on his face.
...
"Take it slowly, Sam," Jon said with a gentle smile as he looked at his new friend stuffing his face, "No one's going to steal the food from you."
They were sitting in a tavern, different from the one that Val went to as she was probably banned from there. Jon had ordered a lot of food for both him and Sam, and the moment it had arrived, the round-faced boy had immediately dug in after a small hesitation.
"I don't know about that," Val said glumly while glaring at Sam with envy in her eyes. Her heart wanted to eat, but her stomach wasn't agreeing.
"I am sorry," Sam said while looking down, afraid to meet their eyes.
"Don't be," Jon said, squeezing the boy's shoulder comfortingly, "You have nothing to apologize for."
"I-It's just my f-father never lets me eat my fill," Sam said, trying to explain, "A-And the Redwyne twins hadn't let me eat since last night so... so I was really hungry."
"Your father doesn't let you eat your fill, and you're already this fat!" Val said in disbelief, "What would happen if he does?" she asked incredulously.
"Shut Up, Val!" Jon groaned at the Wildling who was ruining all his attempts to calm the boy down.
"No, it's alright," Sam said to Jon with a forced smile, "It's nothing I haven't heard before... And Besides it's not like I want to be fat...but no matter what I do or I am made to do I just n-never change—"
"That's just bullshit," Val scoffed, "You're just spoiled! A few days beyond the wall and you'll either survive and become fit or become someone's food, and considering your size... you'll probably feed a whole village of Thenns."
"Ignore her," Jon said in assurance to Sam, who was looking at Val with wide eyes, "And what do you mean, what you're made to do?"
"Mmm... M-My father," Sam said bitterly, "H-He doesn't like that I am this fat, and he has tried everything to make me better...He dressed me in my mother's clothes to humiliate me... a-and forced me to sleep in chainmail, and even once had Quartheen warlocks pour Aurochs blood on me to raise my valour," Sam's voice quivered but still, he maintained his smile, "A dozen master-at-arms...throwing me into the Horn Hill's pond to teach me to swim...he tried everything he could to raise me into what he considered a proper heir...but nothing worked..."
There were a few minutes of silence before Val leaned forwards and fiercely said, "You should just kill that bastard in his sleep and be done with it," and ignoring the boy's horrified gaze, she asked confusingly, "And besides, if you hate it that much, Why didn't you just leave?"
"Where would I go?" he said with a sad shrug, "I am a coward and clumsy and not useful for anything... so who would even want me..."
"You're right about that—"
"Do you want to come with us," Jon suddenly interrupted Val and looked at Sam with a serious expression.
"Come with you?" Sam asked with incomprehension on his face.
"Yes, Travel with me, work for me," Jon nodded before his voice suddenly took on a alluring tone, "You can see the world... Read books from all over Westeros and Essos... meet people from all the kingdoms...see magical wonders like the Wall or the Titan of Braavos and a lot more..."
Sam's eyes immediately lost focus as he started imagining all the things that Jon was making him see. An unconscious smile appeared on his face as he imagined a future where he wouldn't have to be scared of his father, where he could read and eat as much as he wanted and see all the wonders of the world.
"But why would you even want him?" Val interrupted, bringing him back to reality.
"Y-Yeah, she's right...Why would you even want me?" Sam said despondently, "I can't fight to save my life, and I am too slow for any kind of labor, the only thing I can do is read and write..."
"That's enough," Jon said with a small smile while looking into Sam's eyes confidently, "I don't care if you don't have any fighting skills or can't do any physical labor... more than enough people around the world can do those... but you have something else in abundance that is not very common in this world."
"What?" asked Sam and Val simultaneously.
"Your mind," Jon said tapping Sam's temple, "The most dangerous weapon in the world."
Sam's eyes widened as it was the first time someone ever complimented him on something, "So What do you say? Do you want to join us?"
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票