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Ch 32 The Fatty And The Singer Part 1
🕑 Added 2023-07-29 06:03:43 +0000 UTC"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,'
