The Pale Upstart ( GOT System Fic )

Chapter 13: Clinking Coins

 The men were thoroughly exhausted. Whilst the few lords and knights who were still in good shape convened in the keep, the majority of the army went to get some well-deserved rest. Gideon couldn't deny he had slept like a babe, even more so since his wounds had healed with a swiftness that bordered on the supernatural. 

 He kept himself bandaged still to avoid suspicion. No man he knew of could heal that quickly, and it would certainly bring up nought but troubles to let it show. 

 At noon on the following day, Gideon walked around the camp with a limping Beryn. Of course, the man did not enjoy the same privileges Gideon now had and he could only heal like the common man. It was an empowering thought to realize just how great of an advantage he held over practically everyone else now. 

 It all remained to see whether this was a general benefit of a higher Prowess or if it would only occur whenever he gained points. 

 " Use fear as a weapon? Well, I did hear some of that back in Essos. The Dothraki do that…if I remember correctly at least." Beryn answered his question with some difficulty. 

 Commander Oswyn's words had jumped around in his mind all night and he couldn't help but seek Beryn's counsel. He was the only somewhat trustworthy person he knew here. 

 " I don't know if I can follow their example, though. I am no barbaric nomad from the Dothraki Sea or the Red Waste. And I am not even part of the cavalry anyway. I also thought of the Mountain, but…" Gideon trailed off as Beryn sighed. 

 " Best not to imitate that beast. You do not possess the height for it…nor the savagery required to impress a man like Tywin Lannister through cruelty and violence alone." 

 Gideon nodded absentmindedly. Perhaps he could not fully imitate the Mountain, but on the principle alone, that monstrosity was not feared simply because he was big. That was just one part of the myth around the man. The rest was all built upon a mound of terrorized victims. 

 " The Mountain generates fear by acting more like an obscenely cruel bear than a man…perhaps that is exactly what I need," He glanced at Beryn with a half-smile. 

 " Even if it's nothing but a mummer's show, I can build myself a reputation as a beast of extreme violence…as a demon." He could envision it. He had been the object of fear for a large part of his life, so the thought itself was nothing new to him. And even if a part of himself would be disgusted to play pretend at being a monster, so long as it served its purpose he could do it. 

 He would not let that smidge of morality stop him. He only needed to act, not to literally follow in Ser Gregor Clegane's path. 

 Beryn seemed pensive but not outright against the idea. 

 " It's not a horrible plan, that much I will say. I am simply uncertain if you can really do it. Take it as a compliment rather than an insult, for it certainly isn't a jape at your expense but…." He looked him in the eyes. 

 " I just don't see enough evil in all that pink, to think it will work. You can still try. In fact, I would personally do so if I was in your shoes. You have very little to lose. And if it works, you will shoot through the ranks just by existing and feeding the rumour mill. " 

 With these words, they parted ways, and Gideon found himself coming back to the tent he shared with a few other sellswords. At this time, it would be empty, and he could ponder over this new plan of his in relative tranquillity. He was a bit miffed that the system had not decided to give him a quest pertaining to this whole fearmongering idea, but then again he was probably asking for far too much. 

 Already with barely any impressive feat under his belt, he was gaining enough Prowess points to become a decent warrior and with time, these other Masteries would serve their purpose too. He could hardly wait to see what said purpose even was since, until now, only Prowess seemed to really do anything. 

 To his surprise, he was not alone in the tent as he entered it. 

 " Ah, it appears I was not led astray by this Lieutenant Constantine. Strange fellow, isn't he? Although I guess he would not register as such….to one of your ilk." 

 Lord Lyonel Mallister. 

 He had felt the man's gaze follow his every movement once the army had retreated back to Acorn Hall, but only now had the man decided to approach him. Well, man was perhaps too much for the lord. He did not seem that much older than he was. 

 " My lord." Gideon bowed, his entire body tense in anxiety. This visit could not possibly mean anything good. The last time he had found himself alone with a lord, had been four years ago and….he would rather forget the experience altogether. 

 Lyonel's eyes gleamed with unbridled curiosity. As though he was a Maester at the citadel, experimenting upon an oddity. 

 Wasn't he an oddity himself anyway? That was exactly why he had never so much as approached the citadel, even in the numerous times he had visited Oldtown. 

 " Some lords would take offence to this barely disguised distrust. Am I some common rogue, to be gazed upon with such hostility?" Lord Lyonel's mocking smile betrayed how unserious he was. 

 That did not reassure Gideon one bit. He walked to the side but did not take his eyes off of the lord for even a second. Lyonel Mallister walked to the opposite side and they found themselves circling one another. 

 " Like a mouse trapped by the lazy cat and wondering whether it should make a run for it or simply play dead. " 

 " Is there a point to this visit, your lordship?" Gideon asked as he reached for his belongings. He could not verify if anything had gone missing without appearing rude to the lord, but he would be sure to do it once the man left. 

 " You could say that. I did not come here solely to play with you, although I must say it is amusing." Lord Lyonel scoffed before positioning himself before the entrance to the tent. 

 He was blocking his path should he try to run away. Gideon's hand brushed against his sword but he did not immediately draw it.

 " You see, I have a certain vested interest in the company you have joined. It was I who suggested they should be regretted. I was a boy at that point," A certain nostalgia seemed to take hold of him as the words left his mouth. He quickly gathered himself and his eyes narrowed. 

 " The continued success of the Boar Company greatly benefits House Mallister. No one has forgotten that we brought the company into the war, and no one will forget how greatly it has served the Loyalists. To that effect, I have convinced my father, Lord Mallister, that the commanders of your company must be…handsomely rewarded once we finally crush the Rebels." Lord Lyonel explained. 

 Gideon remained silent and still alert, but he sensed a certain friendliness to Lyonel's tone. The man genuinely did not seem to be threatening him in any capacity. He simply wished to be heard. 

 " As the company's success is my success…well, suffice to say, I have begun to take an active stance when it comes to supporting you sellswords. By now I believe your commanders are fully aware of my project for them…for all of you. And this is where you come in, my dear freak." 

 Gideon had never heard the word spoken so freely before. There was not even a hint of disgust or fear in the man's voice. As though that term was nothing more than a joke to him. He did not know if he should feel slighted or not by how lightly Lyonel treated this word. It had brought him pain his entire life. 

 " Me? I just joined the company. I do not see how I could possibly have anything to do with anyone's plans." 

 Lyonel chuckled as though he was a mere boy spouting nothing but vaguely amusing and endearing nonsense. 

 " That is certainly true, but I pride myself in being able to detect opportunities quite early. I am never late to the party so to speak. Should you continue to survive through the upcoming battles, I see a certain future ahead. You will be promoted. If only because sellswords greatly appreciate to have intimidating members. Legends grow quickly amongst sellsword companies because they feed them every chance they get." 

 Lord Lyonel approached him slowly, with an entirely too smug smile upon his face. 

 " So you want to…what, sponsor me to benefit from my rise? I am no knight, my lord." Gideon countered. This entire situation smelled like problems to him. Easily avoided problems, should he be able to silence his ambition and greed. 

 But the lord's words had their effect on him still. 

 " Oh, I am certainly not going to have you swear yourself to my House or start paying for your equipment. In fact, I will not do much, nor will I require sacrifices on your part. I simply wish to extend a hand…" He did so quite literally. 

 " And establish the beginning of a hopefully beneficial friendship." 

 That smile, those slightly slanted eyes and even the hand itself. Everything was screaming at him not to trust the lordling. Gideon knew, he knew that he could not afford to play to the lords tunes as they so often threw away their servants when they ceased to be of use…and yet. 

 He shook the offered hand with gritted teeth. To his shock, Lord Lyonel gripped it tightly and pulled him forward in one swift motion. 

 Gideon panicked and tried to take his sword out but the man merely whispered in his ear. 

 " I see that greed, my friend. I see those eyes twinkling with something ugly, something maesters and septons alike decry. But do trust me on this," He sounded more and more like a demon or a malignant spirit; there was a nastiness to his voice that Gideon almost winced at. 

 " Men like us ought to stand tall together. Until our ambitions clash, and I certainly hope they never do, we can only grow from this." 

 He moved away and remained as silent as Gideon was, both of them peering into the other's eyes. The snow-haired sellsword was half-satisfied with what he found in those orbs, but it was enough for him to offer a shaky nod. 

 Lyonel Mallister left the tent, and his smile disappeared as swiftly as it had come. All traces of his previous excitement were erased. 

 Gideon sat on his makeshift bed, his chest heaving as he regained his breath. He could hardly believe what had transpired. With Commander Oswyn's words and now this, clearly he was attracting attention faster than he had thought possible. 

 It only now became evident to him, that he was unable to see himself for what he had become. He had not yet come to terms with his changing reality but with those budding muscles, his new height…and his newfound proficiency in the art of killing that was coming from magical means rather than mere training and experience….

 He had to face it. He had to move forward lest he be left behind by the world his ambitions had forced him to enter. He was a sellsword. He would wage war, he would kill, he would grow. The sooner he could adapt, the greater the height he would reach during this conflict. 

 He jumped to his feet and rummaged through his belongings to fetch all of his coins. He knew just what to do. 

_________

 He quickly found what he was looking for, a blacksmith with a stock. He could not really order a piece and wait for it to be done, as the army would surely move as soon as the men recovered from the previous battle. They would not wait any longer as the plan moving forward seemed to indeed be the siege of Pinkmaiden. The castle had been in the Rebels' hands for too long and apparently, House Tully would not suffer this slight any longer. 

 And if he was to participate in this siege, he might as well get himself something nice and sturdy to avoid dying before he could make a true name for himself. Now his current finances were far greater than what a sellsword of his rank should have, but he could easily explain it by citing his past. The lords were aware that he was once beside Lord Aster Tyrell and he could pass this small fortune as the Lord's passing gift to him. 

 It should not be too suspicious; at least, he hoped so. Regardless, he questioned the gruff old man on what he could and should buy with the coins he had in his possession. 

 " Yer sword don't look half bad, boy. Probably don't need no replacin' for now. I'd say get yerself some decent hauberk to put beneath the leather. Now that I look at that leather though…" 

 The old man looked him up and down, appraising his rather lacking armour. In his defence, it was still leagues above what the common soldier in the loyalist army wore. 

 " Yeah, you should probably get yerself some padded leather with that. Shouldn't even take all of yer coins. Let me get a look at my stock. " The man nodded to himself and went to look over the pieces he had already made. 

 Contrarily to the smithies he had visited in Oldtown and Highgarden, this one was fairly humble, but the smith himself had clearly made a great number of arms and armour in preparation for the coming army. 

 He returned a short time after, holding a black padded armour and a rather long hauberk. Whilst the padded gambeson was not much to look at, probably because the hauberk itself was eating too large a part of his budget for him to be able to afford anything else….the hauberk certainly looked impressive. At last, he would have some steel on his person. 

 And thankfully with his rapidly growing strength, he would not find himself strained too badly by the added weight. 

 He tried it on and after some bits of adjusting here and there, he was set. He paid and would forever deny he regarded his remaining coins with glistening eyes. 

 As he paraded through the camp like a prancing horse, showing off his newly acquired equipment even though many officers wore far better pieces, he noticed Lieutenant Constantine coming back from the castle with a stormy expression. 

 He did not intend to get on the man's nerves, but he found that his curiosity won against any instincts of self-preservation. 

 "Trouble heading our way, Lieutenant?" He called out. 

 Constantine's clicked his tongue in anger before he actually turned his head and noticed him, standing in the middle of the camp with his chest all puffed out. 

 "Well, at least now you probably won't die from the first actual stabbing you get. But you look stupid. " Constantine said. 

 Despite his rising indignation, Gideon simply smiled and approached the restless Lieutenant. 

 " And yes, we do have some troubles heading our way. Lord Roote's army is still nowhere to be seen even though they should have arrived at most directly after the battle. None of the scouts know where they may be and the lords….well, they have a most interesting theory." Constantine answered as he rubbed circles around his temples. 

 A theory? How strange. Without the words even being spoken out loud, Constantine saw the question on his lips and continued. 

 " As you might know, we faced a large part of the rebel's army yesterday. All that was really missing were the forces they had kept on the Blackwood and Frey's lands, and the sellswords….those fucking archers." Gideon felt just about the same amount of resentment. They had ruined an otherwise good battle. 

 " Amongst the lord, the most likely explanation for this situation is that the sellswords linked up with the reserve forces and have attracted Lord Roote's army towards a trap. Whilst he had orders to join us at the Acorn Hall, Lord Roote would absolutely chase after a diminished force if his scouts noticed it….And I find myself agreeing with them. These bastards just won't let go. They won't let our entire army merge." 

 That was probably amongst the few things Gideon absolutely did not wish to hear. Again, a new trap had been placed. Even if it was just a theory, Gideon knew how likely it was. With how many troops the rebels had lost, it would take them some time to replenish. If they could delay the link-up of the loyalist's armies by leading Lord Roote into a merry chase away from the Acorn Hall, it could only benefit them. 

 " Wait, but Lord Roote's forces are mainly made up of cavalry. They would catch up to those remaining troops easily, wouldn't they?" He asked. 

 And only after he had done so, did he realize why Constantine seemed so upset. He answered his own question. 

 " If this is indeed what's happening…they wouldn't lead Lord Roote's men on a chase. They would have their infantry lead them to a terrain where their sellsword archers would…." 

 " Tear them apart, in exactly the same way they tore us apart. But Commander Oswyn has another idea. Can't say I know which theory is more likely." Constantine sniffed as he looked at the sky, clearly exhausted. He probably hadn't seen a lick of sleep last night. 

 " Commander Oswyn says they are indeed laying a trap. However, it might just be a trap for us, and not for Lord Roote's forces. They would force us to go with the first theory, we would thus ride out to help our second army, and then our entire army would have lost precious time running after nothing but smoke. "

 Gideon felt a droplet of sweat run along his forehead. 

 " That would be….a terrific plan." 

 " It would be a fucking disgrace on our part, that's what It would be." 

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A.N: Hey y'all, I would really appreciate comments or reviews as they allow me to see where the fic stands at any given point and if it is going in the right direction. It's also an incentive for me as a writer. 

So don't hesitate to share your opinion or ask any questions you may have. 

A.N 2: Sorry for the delay, but I find myself with no computer to write on, and writing on a phone is a horrid experience. I should be able to go back to a normal release schedule once I get a new computer.