Chapter 45 - The Great Market of Harrenhal 02.
Chapter 45 - The Great Market of Harrenhal 02.
[Chapter Size: 3000 Words.]
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Third Person POV
Harrenhal, 101 AC.
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"Excuse me, would it be possible for us to greet the gentlemen of the North?" They had just left the main market when a group of young nobles and guards approached them.
The Tallhart and Stark guards exchanged glances, while Edric Tallhart turned his attention back to Rickon before responding.
"You may let them through. They are lords of the Riverlands." Everyone recognized the sigils displayed by the group.
There was a Blackwood, some Mallisters, a Frey, a Darry, and several other young nobles from the Trident.
"You must be Lord Tallhart's heir, Edric Tallhart, am I right?" said the leader of the group, wearing the trout sigil on his garments. Everyone immediately recognized House Tully.
The young man leading the group appeared to be older than Rickon and stood at the front, so the Tully heir approached him first to introduce himself.
Rickon then lifted his chin with the typical Stark pride.
"Lord Tully, you must be Lord Grover Tully's grandson, Ser Axel Tully," Tallhart replied to the older man, who appeared to be around twenty-five namedays old.
"Yes, a pleasure, and you are the future Lord Stark, Rickon Stark. You Starks and your grey eyes!" He smiled at Rickon.
"Hello, Ser. It is a pleasure." Rickon shared the Tully heir's enthusiasm.
"Of course, but I must say your group is attracting quite a bit of attention," the man said in a friendly manner, carrying himself with a very noble and confident air.
"Ah, that must be because of the direwolf," Rickon replied.
"Ah, yes. Your house's sigil." The young Tully observed Ghost walking in the middle of the group.
No one seemed bothered by the wolf's presence. On the contrary, everyone appeared proud to see a direwolf causing the entire market to stir.
"I must admit, it is a magnificent beast. I wish House Tully's sigil could be displayed in such a way. But I doubt a trout would be as eye-catching as a direwolf or a dragon..." He smiled before continuing, as he was quite talkative.
"There won't be a single conversation tonight that doesn't involve that direwolf."
Then his eyes turned toward Jon. "I also heard something interesting." He observed the boy walking near Ghost.
Jon was not among the heirs, but his appearance certainly drew too much attention.
"I heard that this giant wolf belongs to a ward of your house. At least that's what everyone has been saying."
Rickon nodded, displaying an unwavering smile. "Of course. Ghost belongs to Jon. He is a ward of my house, a distant relative, and a great friend." Rickon then pointed at Jon. "And the future greatest swordsman the North will have."
Jon raised an eyebrow upon hearing that. He was not foolish enough to involve himself in the lords' introductions, but he was right behind them listening to everything.
"Well, if he keeps showing that monstrous talent we've seen over the past few days, I can't imagine how he wouldn't be." The Glover heir, Brandon Glover, commented with a laugh.
"Hm? Is that true?" asked the Tully heir curiously, looking at Jon;
Jon was already surprised by Rickon and Brandon Glover's statement before turning his attention to the Tully heir.
Jon could not explain why. But that name, that title, and that house stirred a strange feeling within him.
It was not a positive feeling. From the moment he had heard the name Tully, he had felt a certain antipathy.
Even so, he could not simply decide that someone was bad for no reason. The knight and heir standing before him appeared to be about sixteen namedays old and showed no arrogance.
At least not like some of the other looks present in the group. While the others seemed to be judging him for his origins, being introduced as Rickon's distant relative was clearly an invitation for them to realize he had no surname or that he was a bastard, but the Tully heir displayed only genuine curiosity. He did not seem like someone interested in mocking him.
So Jon decided to be courteous, displaying impeccable etiquette for someone of his position when greeting a Lord. "Lord Tully, the lords of the North tend to exaggerate a little, but I hope to do my utmost to meet your expectations."
It was a reasonable answer to end the matter, and the man nodded.
Some boys, perhaps a little older than Jon, could not help but mutter mocking remarks. Of course, it was because of his status as a bastard or a commoner in the South. Jon did not know and did not care either.
He simply ignored them. The Tully heir, on the other hand, showed a smile.
"I'll be hearing things about you..." he said, then turned his attention back to Rickon.
"Well, I would like to extend an invitation to you, Lord Stark. Join our camp. My father has already given me permission. We could hold some friendly competitions between the North and the Riverlands before and during the tournament."
After all, the tournament would begin in approximately one week and would last another full week. Three days later would finally come the Great Council and its outcome.
Altogether, they still had nearly twenty days ahead of them. Even so, whatever the result, the celebrations would probably last another week or two.
Jon knew that Benjen Stark would return North immediately after the council. The Lord of Winterfell did not seem particularly fascinated by the South.
In any case, the other lords began introducing themselves. Some greeted Jon, mostly to see his wolf, but one in particular was different from the others.
Lord Blackwood seemed particularly interested in him. "We never forget the Old Ways. Jon, just Jon," he replied to the greeting.
Jon raised an eyebrow. He had no idea what exactly the Blackwood meant by that.
Shortly afterward, the group said their farewells and began to move away.
The young Northerners continued exploring the market. They had already seen a good portion of the stalls, passing by countless shops.
Jon even found himself interested in an animal shop. They were selling birds, large felines such as lions and white tigers, livestock, and all kinds of creatures he had never seen in his life.
He was fascinated by the animals. He wanted them... Unfortunately, he no longer had the money to buy them. Even so, he had a plan.
If he could gather enough resources to save up a few coins over the next few days, he would try to buy some of those exotic animals later. Many had been brought from Essos, while other merchants from Westeros had brought rare creatures from various parts of the world to sell to the lords gathered at Harrenhal.
At the same time, he continued following the group toward the enormous central square. It was a place where various performers gathered.
There was a theater, although it was not operating at that moment. On the other hand, countless bards played in different parts of the square.
Standing exactly in the center was unpleasant, as the songs blended together. But if someone approached a specific group, they could appreciate each melody individually.
"I wonder if any of the Northern bards are already performing? I'd love to hear the Song of Jon in the South!" Lyra shouted excitedly.
Laughter immediately followed. "That would be amusing," someone commented.
Jon could not help but blush when he heard that. He hated the idea. He did not want to listen to songs praising him because of the adventure with the bear.
It was strange and always made him uncomfortable. He had already heard that ballad far too many times.
After all, Rickard Stark, Lord Stark's older brother, made a point of dragging any bard who passed through Winterfell to perform the song in front of him, especially during evening dinners.
All just to annoy him. Jon did not enjoy that kind of attention in Winterfell's hall. Perhaps he was still too young to deal with all those stares and with the idea that there was something heroic about him.
"That's true. Just think, he has a song of his own and we're here with nothing. We're losing to a little boy," Orys Manderly replied with a laugh. Yara immediately started laughing along with her brother.
"What nonsense..." Jon merely shrugged.
"I found one!" It was then that Rickon pointed toward a Northern bard. He had just spotted him.
The entire square was already talking about the giant wolf in the middle of the group. There were some lords watching from afar, knights, and even visitors from other regions. They could not help but look at Jon's wolf with the same interest as everyone else, while commenting about him, clearly saying nothing good, laughing as they drank some alcohol. Drunks...
Jon simply ignored them as he followed the others toward the bard, having little choice in the matter. The man was finishing a Northern song for a group of curious listeners who handed him a few coins.
When the performance ended, he collected a few bronze coins before noticing the Starks.
He immediately seemed interested in the group. "Greetings, lords of the North. Or rather, future lords of the North." He smiled. "I did not expect to find you so nearby." The man had traveled alongside the Northern entourage.
Perhaps not exactly with the nobles, but he had certainly taken advantage of the security provided by the caravan, traveling just behind it together with many other common folk.
Many bards, merchants, commoners, and adventurers had made the same journey, hoping to earn money, find work, or simply meet the South and its lords. To meet the king, see dragons, see famous knights, all sorts of things like that.
"And I also see that you are accompanied by Jon's legendary direwolf." He spoke in a theatrical manner.
Rickon immediately perked up and stepped forward. "Hey! Play the North's most famous ballad!"
"Rickon..." Jon grumbled.
Rickon merely laughed and tossed a silver coin in front of the bard. The man broke into a huge smile.
"Well, if the future Lord of Winterfell demands a song, then I shall certainly play it." He picked up his instrument.
Jon immediately received several amused looks. Sighing, he moved a little away from the group and sat down beside Ghost.
"Hear, hear, men of the North,
For I shall tell you without delay,
Of young Jon from the frozen snows,
And the bear he went to slay..."
"These people do enjoy annoying us, don't they?" he spoke quietly to the wolf. "I mean, you may not mind all the attention, but I certainly like this song even less." Jon scratched behind Ghost's ear. At least one of them might enjoy themselves.
The giant wolf simply lay down on the ground the next instant. Around them, several people watched the scene in amazement. After all, it was not every day that someone saw a direwolf of that size obeying a boy so calmly.
"...Sing of Jon, the Wolf Boy!
Sing of Ghost, the white thunder!
For together they hunted the black beast
That spread fear throughout the land..."
Jon simply ignored the song playing. Because of the group and the direwolf, several people began gathering around the bard, listening to the song about Jon, while the young lords of the North laughed at his obvious discomfort.
"Hey, can you really ride that wolf? I doubt it!" someone shouted.
Jon pretended not to hear.
"What a lie. I doubt you killed a bear running through the forest with that wolf!" another person said.
"That is true. Put a bow in Jon's hand and he'll show you what he's capable of," Rickon mocked those voices.
"Hey, Rickon, don't turn me into an attraction for this crowd," Jon complained.
Jon turned his eyes toward the voices in the crowd and realized they were men from the West. Judging by the sigils on their clothing, there were Westerlings and also some Leffords among them. But certainly among all those guards, there were two young nobles drinking and laughing at him, just like the others.
In any case, Jon did not give them or Rickon what they wanted. Instead, he grabbed Lyra by the waist and placed her in front of Ghost before mounting the giant wolf.
Ghost immediately rose to his feet. Jon then turned his attention back to those young lords of the West.
As embarrassed as he was when dealing with praise and songs about himself, he still appreciated a challenge. So he smiled and repeated,
"Hey, I heard the lords of the West are quite wealthy." His voice drew everyone's attention.
The people who had been watching him in admiration atop Ghost, just like in the song, immediately turned their attention to him and what he meant by that. Even Lyra, seated in front of him, looked back at him questioningly.
"I'm not a circus attraction for you." Jon continued to display a slight smile, and the Northerners looked at him with interest.
"But there will certainly be an archery competition. How about we make a wager?"
Silence fell over the area.
"Two hundred gold dragons to whoever reaches the greatest distance. Just between one of you and me, or even both of you, but each of you will put up 200 gold dragons for the loser."
He paused so they could absorb what they had just heard, then continued, "Or do you only doubt my skill with your mouths, my lords? I am half your age. Surely it would be quite easy to defeat a little boy glorified by a song."
For a moment, everyone remained silent. They were surprised by Jon's diction and the power of his voice, which even carried over the bards still playing in other corners of the square, forcing them to stop and listen to him.
"Haha! This sounds interesting!" Lord Roswell laughed. The young lords of the North seemed excited by the idea.
After all, they were watching Jon directly challenge some nobles from the West. And all eyes then turned toward the provoking lords.
"You'd never have two hundred gold dragons," one of them mocked.
"Wait!" Rickon immediately raised his voice. Although his voice was not as controlled or easy to project as Jon's, he was still the heir to Winterfell. "I can guarantee that Jon possesses that amount." He crossed his arms.
"Even as a ward of House Stark, he earned profit from some of his inventions in the North." Rickon was telling the truth.
Jon had developed a preservation method for the heads of hunted animals using special oils and herbs. Not only had he received a reward for sharing the process throughout the North, but he also cultivated many of the herbs used in it.
As a supplier of much of the production purchased by House Stark, he was able to sell large quantities throughout the North.
His herbs were known for their quality and for being producible in significant volumes. He sold them cheaply, but it still earned him a surprising amount of gold for someone his age.
He had already accumulated a considerable fortune for a boy of only ten namedays. At least one thousand three hundred gold dragons.
But all that money was under Lord Stark's care. Benjen Stark had forbidden Jon from managing it himself, stating that he would only hand over the sum when he believed Jon was old enough and mature enough to learn how to handle money.
That was why Jon could not spend those coins the same way he spent his savings in silver and bronze buying books and gifts for his family back on the farm.
Even so, he was certain he could defeat those young lords. Besides, it would be a way to earn money of his own to spend.
And even if Lord Stark tried to stop him, Benjen would certainly ensure the payment was made if Jon lost.
Not that it would happen. Jon knew an archer's body very well. Even compared to men twice his age... The shoulder, arm, and back muscles. Those men did not have broad shoulders or particularly strong arms.
When they provoked him, Jon simply used it against them. After all, everyone was watching. If they refused the challenge, they would become a laughingstock among the people gathered in the square. It would be even worse than losing to a ten-nameday-old boy in a competition.
And the rumor would certainly spread. It would be embarrassing for their families. Even if some considered Jon a nobody, at that moment he had House Stark behind him.
And Rickon was making that very clear in front of everyone.
"Accept it."
The people around them were already excited.
Two hundred gold dragons were a fortune for common folk. Not for great lords, but certainly for a contest between young nobles held before a crowd.
"Very well. I accept." The young Westerling from the West finally replied. His other companion said nothing.
"I'll easily defeat a child. But I hope you pay as well and don't run away. Otherwise, House Lannister will not let you escape." His voice took on a threatening tone.
"How dare you dishonor the word of House Stark?" Rickon immediately exploded in anger, and everyone began exclaiming at that.
"What an idiot," Lyra commented as well from in front of Jon. Jon almost started laughing.
It was obvious that, after being pressured in front of everyone, the young man had become insecure. The threat was merely an attempt to recover his dignity.
"Well, I think we'd better return to the camp," Edric Tallhart said at last, letting out a sigh. They certainly would not be enjoying the outing anymore.
It was better to leave before the place became crowded with curious people asking questions about what had just happened.
"Very well. I hope to see you at the archery competition, Lord Westerling," Jon replied without caring in the slightest about the threat.
His voice sounded far calmer than that of the young man who had challenged him.
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