Rohar had learned early that King's Landing was a shithole, and not just in the literal sense with its horrid smell. It was even more true for Flea Bottom, where he lived.
One wrong step, and one would lose everything that mattered. Some lost their name, turning into a nameless figure referred as rat or waste of space. Some lost their pride, turning into obedient boot lickers hoping for scraps. Some lost their mercy, others lost their sleep.
Most common way was to lose one's life. And, as the news of a siege approached, Rohar believed that he would be one of them. It was only to be expected when Gold Cloaks rounded him from the streets, pushed a sword into his hand, and brought to the walls looking at the Blackwater bay, and told to defend the kingdom from the traitors.
As for why they were defending the city against the brother of the previous king, he didn't ask. Not after he had seen what happened to the ones that dared to ask.
Gold Cloaks had never been merciful toward the smallfolk unlucky enough to be born to Flea Bottom.
He just watched, a part of him already resigned to death for the first time in his life. Until this moment, he had struggled. He lied, he cheated, and most importantly, he watched carefully to understand people. As an orphan, it had been very important to know which merchant would kill a bread stealer, and which merchant would merely beat one down painfully.
A battle was different. Everyone at the other side wanted to kill him, and quite a few people on his side shared the sentiment. He knew he could survive if he was lucky … but luck had never been something that he had in abundance of. He merely survived with his wits, not his luck.
He only had one pity.
He still felt hungry. He only had a bowl of onion broth in his belly, thin enough to shame an onion, accompanied by a slice of bread thin enough that his hand was visible from the other side.
Those noble bastards didn't even bother feeding them properly before forcing them to die for their pointless fights. Hunger was already clawing again, as if it had never been fed at all.
He shifted his weight, feeling the bruise on his hip complain. He'd gotten it when the one of the guards had decided lazy rats needed encouragement while moving. Rohar didn't fight back. Fighting back against the guards was an even quicker way to die.
At least, in battle, there was a chance he would survive.
A small one, but still.
But, as he waited, a bell sound reached his … mind. He could only say that, because it didn't reach his ear.
His first instinct was to look for the source, but he suppressed it. He didn't want to die by angering the guards. They wouldn't blink before dealing with him, just to intimidate the other poor conscripts.
Nothing.
Just the city doing what it always did.
Rohar's heart kept hammering, refusing to believe the emptiness.
And then the emptiness filled with words.
They weren't written on any wall. They weren't scratched into wood. They weren't painted in soot. They simply existed in front of his eyes—pale letters floating in his vision like a dream that wouldn't fade when you blinked.
Rohar blinked.
The letters stayed.
He blinked harder, eyes watering.
Still there.
And, somehow, despite not knowing how to read or write, he understood them.
[Chaos Gacha System Initiated, Achieve great feats to receive reward!]
{Warning! Due to low magical density some features are unavailable or limited.}
Rohar's mouth went dry. His tongue felt too big; wondering whether he was chosen by the gods, or cursed by some kind of demon or evil entity. Knowing his luck, it was the latter.
He didn't know what Chaos Gacha was? Maybe it was something that was common with the nobles, or maybe it was something that would cost his life just by admitting. Rohar kept his mouth shut, and watched the fleet.
Mysterious writing appaearing in his gaze didn't mean he would survive the upcoming disaster.
{Three Gold Random Tickets have been awarded as a starting bonus!}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Gold tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
"Well, that tracks," he muttered, his eyes still on the approaching fleet. He didn't know what a gold or bronze tickets was, but one didn't need education to know that gold was better than bronze. Getting teased with something better before getting the delivery of a horrid alternative was just what he needed.
Yet, he reflexively knew how to activate them. He did, and some kind of bronze-colored page appeared in his hand. One that he ripped immediately before anyone could notice, trusting that no one would pay attention to him .
[Intermediate Acting]
{Uncommon Skill: You are a skilled actor, being able to properly portray yourself in the way you want to be seen and concealing your real emotions. But people familiar with you or people who have good intuition like detectives can probably see through your acting.}
An incredible reward, but he didn't feel any change.
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
"About right," he muttered as he shuffled slightly. Not only acting was not something he needed, but also it wasn't useful in a fight. He shuffled slightly, making he was hidden behind a taller recruit, and summoned another.
[Fertility Calibration]
{Uncommon Trait: You can freely adjust your own fertility, being able to freely go from absolutely inert to being so fertile you can impregnate even someone completely infertile at will. Or depending on your parts, make yourself sterile or rival the Goat of a Thousand Young.}
His eyes widened as he received the second supposed reward, as if the Chaos Gacha was mocking him about his earlier comment, showing him what a truly useless gift was.
Chaos Gacha was angry.
"Please, for everything holy and unholy, have mercy on me great one. I won't disrespect you again," he begged, which went unnoticed. He wasn't the only recruit desperately praying.
He pulled one more.
[Lesser Hydrokinesis]
{Uncommon Ability: Allows you to create and control water around yourself telekinetically, it is not particularly powerful but it is still very versatile and precise.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, system can't provide any power for the abilities. Use them responsibly to avoid overdraining.}
"Thank you, great one," Rohar whispered, feeling a hint of satisfaction even as he felt the ability to settle, giving him a great awareness of water that surrounded him. His prayers and show of respect worked!
For an instant, it was as if the world gained a new layer. He was aware of water that surrounded him, almost like a new limb.
That was when a giant explosion of fire covered the bay, a green light burning. It was easy to recognize by anyone that lived in King's Landing, and heard the stories of Mad King.
Wildfire.
"Be ready for the war, maggots," one of the soldiers shouted, and Rohar prepared himself even as the wall still shook after the explosion, the sickly green turning the night into a nightmare.
Yet, at a distance, he could see the attacking ships ignore the inferno and sail closer. Nobles were mad. All of them. "Steady, maggots!" a soldier shouted, voice cracking with fear. "Hold the line!"
Rohar's hands tightened around his sword.
His belly was empty. His bruise throbbed. His life was worth less than the blade in his grip. One that he didn't even know how to use other than stabbing with the pointy end.
He prepared.
When the fighting began, it didn't feel like a battle the bards sang about. There was no bravery, no respectful duels. Just mayhem.
It was the deafening noise first. A wall of sound. Drums from the ships. Horns from the shore. The endless screaming of men trying to make themselves brave by being loud. Then came the thump of impacts; stones, arrows, bodies hitting wood, wood hitting stone, men hitting men.
Smoke crawled upward, thick and oily, stinging Rohar's eyes until tears leaked out. The air tasted of ash and pitch. Every breath felt like swallowing grit.
The Gold Cloaks shoved the conscripts forward when ladders slammed against the wall.
"Down! Down!" someone yelled, and they were herded toward a stairwell and a narrow walkway where the fighting was already clotted.
Rohar's first clear view of the enemy was a man hauling himself up a ladder, expensive armor, the look of someone who'd fought before. Behind him, other men surged, desperate and frantic, climbing over each other to get at the wall. Several closest conscript started pushing the ladders away, while the others were cut down by the first ones that arrived.
Rohar's mouth went dry again.
This was why the conscripts were there. To die. They weren't soldiers. They were bodies placed where the enemy would hit first. It didn't come as a surprise, but seeing it was different.
A Gold Cloak captain shoved Rohar so hard he stumbled.
"Forward, flea-rat!"
Rohar caught himself. He didn't turn to glare. Glares got you beaten under the best of conditions. Here, it would mean a stab. He pushed forward because behind him was a wall of spears and boots and authority.
Ahead of him was steel.
Several men were already at the wall when he arrived. The first man over the top swung an axe. It came down into a conscript's shoulder with a wet crunch. The conscript screamed and fell, and the men behind him surged forward over his body like the dead were just uneven ground.
Rohar's mind tried to flee into numbness. It wasn't that he hadn't seen death. He did, many times. From sickness, from bar fights gone wrong, even violent back alley gang fights…
War was different.
He backed half a step, trying to find space, trying to find air. Someone slammed into his side. His sword arm jolted. He nearly lost the grip.
More enemies climbed, and suddenly the narrow walkway was a churn of bodies.
Rohar slashed without elegance, without training, just desperate arcs aimed at anything that looked like it wanted to kill him, trying to look brave and mad. That way, it wouldn't be suspicious whenever he pulled back. Awareness was important.
Just as he pulled, he saw another conscript, one with less awareness and more belief to his own bravery got decapitated by a knight with a surprising ease.
Rohar tried to stay away. He wasn't the only one realizing the trick to staying alive. A man next to him, a butcher by the look of his hands, followed the same tactic. But, an arrow hit him in the throat, a spray of red proving it wasn't as smart as Rohar had first thought.
His stomach lurched. He wanted to turn back and retreat, but it proved to be impossible. Another push forward, and Rohar lost himself in the chaos, wildly swinging, hoping for a lucky hit.
[Feat Achieved! Kill your first man
+1x Silver Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He still activated the moment he had found a moment of calm…
[Novice Chemistry]
{Common Skill: You have the skills and knowledge of a Chemistry Major. You have a decent repertoire of knowledge regarding chemistry and compounds. You know how to make most regular chemicals and know not to drink bleach.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
He cursed, not at the System, but at his own stupidity. He deserved by just activating it rather than properly praying first to show his respects.
However, his internal fury staggered when a shout cut through the chaos. A deeper voice, confident. A knight had pushed his way onto the wall; taller than most, broader, moving with the practiced certainty of someone who'd survived battles before.
His armor wasn't as shiny as the occasional knight that wandered around the city, but maybe it was just the effect of the battle. Or maybe, he was one of the poorer knights. Not that it mattered, as he was far beyond any Flea Bottom conscript.
Every swing of his blade killed a man, Gold Cloaks around them retreating in fear as well. His eyes scanned, quick and cold. The only good thing, Rohar noticed, that he didn't even pay attention to him.
Why would he? Would a butcher care about a solitary chicken…
The hedge knight stepped forward, slashing through flailing conscripts with the casual cruelty of a man.
Rohar's mind raced.
Run? No room. Behind him was the guards, ready to cut him down if he escaped. As for fighting …
His breath came shallow. His fingers tightened, and for an instant he felt the absurdity of it, that how the world had pushed a starving Flea Bottom boy into the path of a trained killer and called it duty to his king.
Anger flared, sharp and hot, and it didn't make him brave, but it made him clear.
He still had one trick.
He waited for an opportunity. A mistake. One that happened when the knight stabbed another conscript in the ribs, only for his sword to get stuck momentarily.
Rohar lunged, a suicidal charge, at least that was what the knight believed if the way he dipped his head was any indicator. After all, his blade was already half-pulled.
He never expected a line of water to reach to his leg, and give a hard tug, making him stumble, the detail going unnoticed by others at the darkness flickering with green light. Rohar, expecting his fall, just stabbed his sword through the gap in his helmet.
Even a knight died to a stab through his helmet.
[Feat Achieved! Kill a knight
+1x Silver Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, silver ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
"For King!" Rohar shouted in elation. Fake elation. Even though he killed a knight, he wasn't stupid enough to expect a reward. No, it didn't matter if the knight was an enemy. It was still not for small folk to kill them. Their job was to die to them.
Luckily, no one cared about them, meaning no one really knew who he was. No one cared about his identity in the first place, and the chaos of the battle illuminated by wildfire meant that no one would know he was the killer. He just needed to mix back with the other recruits, and keep his mouth shut afterwards.
Once he found a moment to breathe, he pulled the next ticket. But this time, he prayed for forgiveness, promising respect. Something to survive the battle, or failing that, something to help him make a living.
[Novice Massage]
{Common Skill: You are as skilled as an apprentice masseuse, you know how to give someone a massage that feels good and can relieve pressure but not much beyond that.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
He was not forgiven by the System yet, or he would have gotten a better reward. Massage skills was not a way to make a living for a man … not unless he wanted to abandon the last bit of self-respect he had.
Rohar's gaze flicked over the battlefield, doing his best to stay with the crowd, fighting wildly. He didn't know if he succeeded killing another. If he did, there was no reward for killing more conscripts.
Thrice more, he used his water trick to survive, once to kill, and twice to just get away while his opponent stumbled.
The battle raged on…
&&&
If he wasn't covered by the blood and guts of the others, Rohar might have appreciated the irony of being sent away the moment the battle was over, the sword confiscated.
They didn't even bother feeding them.
Naturally, there were several guards that had asked around, questioning who was the lucky soldier who managed to take down a knight, but Rohar kept his head down, not stupid enough to believe guards doing something nice for him.
Another conscript proved to be stupider, or at least more desperate, and claimed that he was the one that killed the knight, hoping to take credit. Guards took him away, and he never returned.
But, soon, gossip and rumors about how their brave guard captain singlehandedly killed an armored knight spread around.
Interesting, but also not something he had luxury of paying attention. Not when he had other, bigger issues, one that was even more important than exploring the mysterious System that allowed him to survive.
Like where to get his next dinner. With the siege gone, the city once again started receiving shipments, but Rohar was unsurprised to see that the sudden bounty didn't immediately reach to Flea Bottom.
Which meant that, once again, he was doing backbreaking work to earn a few coins, enough to afford the inflated food prices.
The only positive aspect, when System promised him the ability to learn quickly, it was even faster than he expected. Even when working as a porter at the docks, he was able to train his Acting skill by trying various expressions and body language, making connections he never expected it to be possible.
Nothing really useful, as while being an actor in a troupe earned more money than merely working as a porter, troupes were insular groups that grew up together. They might take a talented child, but never an adult.
Still, he did his best to sharpen it, at least it was a distraction from the pain of the work and hunger. Massage skill came similarly useful as he rubbed his own legs and lower back to reduce the strain of the day. Too bad he couldn't learn chemistry. That kind of knowledge was not something he could access.
The fact that he could read and write didn't help. Especially since ability was there, but his writing was horrid, meaning the easiest way to make money, being a scribe, was out as well.
As for tickets, he didn't dare to explore how to get them … not when the only clue was killing. He didn't even ponder as he carefully placed the sack he had been carrying. Currently, he was working as a porter for a high-class brothel, and even if he sold himself, he couldn't afford what they would ask if he damaged the sack filled with fabric.
He wanted to make sure that —
Before he could finish his thoughts, he felt a kick to his ass. "Get out of the way, you worthless bastard," a voice he didn't recognize declared and continued walking. Rohar wanted to jump to his feet and give him a kick, but two things kept him from doing so.
One was the identity of the attacker. Rohar didn't recognize him, but expensive bright clothes and multiple bodyguards meant that he was not something that could be touched by smallfolk.
But, the other reason was more important.
[Feat Achieved! Chaos is a ladder. Meet Littlefinger
+1x Silver Trait Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
The name, he recognized. Peter Baelish, Master of Coin, and one of the richest merchants, famous for his high class brothels. But, there was only one thing he could say.
It was nice to meet him! Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Kharchos, GoodOldChap and 567 othersJesse_DesireFeb 14, 2026Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 2 View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 15, 2026Add bookmark#25He didn't activate the ticket immediately. Instead, he returned to his shack, burned a candle, and prayed for an hour without interruption before he activated the ticket.
[Enhanced Agility]
{Uncommon Trait: Enhances the user's existing agility, augmenting their speed and reflexes.}
"Thank you, Blessed Gacha," he said before he even ripped the ticket, warmth spreading to his body. He felt his body lighten. Curious, he tested, and found out that the changes were incredible. He could jump higher, run faster, his balance was better, even his hand writing had improved somehow.
It was the second best reward he had received, and unlike Hydrokinesis, he could actually use it without risking being executed by the septons as a demon worshipper, meaning a much better utility.
With his increased agility, maybe it was the time to renew a career he had abandoned once he had grown. A career that allowed him to survive the worst times as an orphan.
Pickpocketing.
Admittedly, it hadn't been very lucrative even when he was a child. He got caught and beaten as often as he succeeded, but it gave him enough to survive. Though, to be honest, it was only because of the generosity of the King Robert, his endless feasts and tournaments keeping him fed through some of the worst disasters.
"Too bad his son is a miserly little bitch," Rohar muttered. King Joffrey didn't have the best of reputation.
But, he soon focused on the real issue.
The ticket that he earned merely by meeting Peter Baelish; that was if one counted being kicked like a dog as a proper introduction.
He didn't have to wonder too long about why meeting with LIttlefinger gave him a ticket. The connections were obvious. Petyr Baelish. Master of Coin. Noble. Rich. Important.
Meeting with him was enough to count as an achievement for any smallfolk. Geting kicked, less so, but considering the System repeatedly reduced his rewards due to something as nebulous as lack of magic in the world like it was his fault, a little fudging about the exact nature of meeting was acceptable.
Meaning, unlike what he previously believed, tickets didn't come exclusively from killing. He didn't know if meeting other nobles would give him reward, but if they did…
"Chaos is a ladder," Rohar whispered, tasting the words etched to the achievement. Maybe it really was, especially since, unlike others, he would be rewarded for each step.
Too bad meeting with nobles weren't as easy as it sounded, not for a street rat with no family. The encounter with LIttlefinger had been pure luck. If he tried to reach other nobles, a beating from their bodyguards would be the least of his worries. He might even got cut down as a spy.
But, staying here was not an option either. He looked around. He was surrounded by damp stones, a trickle of dirty water at the gutter, a rat watching him with bright, patient eyes. He couldn't live like this. Not when he finally had an option to save himself.
Worse, he didn't know when the next attack would arrive. In a war that was being talked as the War of Five Kings, he doubted it was the only time the city would end up in siege, and he might not survive the next one as easily.
No, hiding in his shack, living the same day was not an option. Not anymore.
Too bad determination didn't give him a plan. "At least Acting skill will pay," he decided. Whatever plan he made, a little misdirection would be very useful during the encounters. Maybe some clothes to fix his looks.
But first, he needed to decide on his target.
One popped to his mind immediately.
Tyrion Lannister. A high noble, one of the few that didn't care about mingling with the smallfolk, famous for his whoremongering. It meant, all he needed was a bit of coin to meet with him. Money that he could get by pickpocketing.
Too bad that, according to the rumors, he had been wounded during the war, meaning he wouldn't be visiting brothels any time soon.
He wished the definition of important covered rich merchants or ship captains, but he was sure that it did not. He did encounter with them while work, at least more substantially than his meeting with Littlefinger, but nothing happened.
He was afraid that it would have to be proper nobles.
Meaning, he needed to be creative.
&&&
Despite having little hope, he still tried his luck. He arranged some accidental encounters with the occasional knight or young noble that decided to visit the slums, but accidental collisions or some quick talks didn't result in any rewards.
Well, any ticket rewards. Repeated trials allowed him to further sharpen his Acting skill, enough to lie convincingly. Considering his future plans, the ability to act was important. At least, he needed to be able to walk and speak like rich merchants rather than a gutter rat.
Also, during one of the encounters with a young noble that partake a bit too much drink, his nimble fingers allowed him to get away with an extra pouch. The pouch was not as filled as he expected, merely two silver stags and a handful copper stars, but to him, it was a treasure, one that he could feast for days.
Instead, he used it to purchase new clothes, and a dagger. And, visit a bathhouse to get rid of his accumulated grime.
An investment, though even he was surprised by the impact. The way people treated him changed, no longer treating him like a garbage from under their shoes. Shop owners called for him while he passed in front of them, whores invited him inside, and guards merely ignored his presence rather than watching him like hawks to see when he would make a mistake.
His first chance arrived after the arrival of the Tyrells. Particularly, their daughter Margery Tyrell, with rumor mill filled with rumors of her great virtue and religious piety. Distributing food to smallfolk every day, after visiting the great sept.
He merely had to visit the lines thrice to end up on the line she was distributing.
"Here, good ser. Enjoy your food, and seven bless you," Margery Tyrell said with a kind tone, her face the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.
Yet, it was thanks to his own progress in acting, he recognized the practiced tone in her cadence, or her unfocused gaze. She did her best to look like she cared, but she did not.
Not that he cared.
Not when his intentions weren't any purer.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Margery Tyrell
+1x Silver Trait Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
"Thank you, your holy majesty," Rohar thanked her, quickly ate the tasteless food they were distributing, and moved away. He didn't want to spend any more time than necessary, not with four knights watching the crowd sharply, ready to act at the first opportunity.
After that, he returned to his room, prayed for another long hour, and activated his reward.
[Fast Reflexes]
{Uncommon Trait: Your reflexes are beyond the norm, even as a base human you can weave around the average man's punches with ease and you can even aim dodge guns with training. Scales with your stats.}
He had no idea what a gun was, but other than that particular mystery, he had no problems with the reward despite the overlap with the earlier reward. The faster he moved, the faster he reacted, the easier he would survive a fight.
"Not that I want to try that," he muttered. He knew that, reflexes or no reflexes, he was not a warrior. A few punches in a back alley, maybe a quick stab, he could, but a true fight with swords was a different thing. Especially if it happens in a place that wouldn't conceal his water control trick.
No, in anything close to a fair fight, he would be slaughtered. He neither had the skills nor the physical might necessary to survive a duel.
But, meeting with Margery Tyrell proved to be a rare exception, his other attempts either didn't work, or didn't give him the rewards he hoped, the only benefit he got was to see how nobles interacted with each other more.
&&&
"Friend, you look rather tense," Rohar said as he approached his newest target.
Bronn. Temporary leader of city guards that had been dismissed, and a sellsword in the service of Tyrion Lannister.
It wasn't someone Rohar wanted to approach openly, but after spending another week with nothing to show for, he decided to take a risk rather than leaving King's Landing. After all, only in King's Landing, he had the chance to meeting the nobles that could grant him the rewards.
"What's it to you, cunt," Bronn replied.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Bronn
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
Any sting of the insult disappeared when he received the reward. Why Bronn gave the same reward, he didn't know. Maybe because he was the leader of the city guards up until several days ago.
"Sorry, my friend. I thought I recognized you. I was also conscripted, and I decided that I owe a drink to the man that I owe my life. If it was those cunt nobles had been leading the guards, all of us would have died."
He didn't know his compliment was correct; or even close to being correct. But, he didn't need to work hard to see that Bronn was a simple man. Not stupid. Not reckless. Certainly not harmless.
Just, simple. Give him benefits, and one had an ally in him … as long as someone else paid more.
"Why didn't you start with that?" Bronn replied, his smile wider. "I never say no to free drinks."
"Good to hear," Rohar said, threw two silver stags to a waitress, and turned like he was about to leave. Spending money was much easier when he got them from pickpocketing rather than working. He didn't target rich, knowing they were more trouble than they were worth, but he didn't need to.
A couple copper stars here and there had a way of accumulating quickly. He wasn't exactly rich, but he also wasn't paralyzed by the idea of buying drinks for a sellsword that could drink in a way that would have killed him.
"Sit and share. It's boring to drink alone," Bronn invited merely after he took a step away.
"Really?" Rohar replied, trying to sound like he was inspired by Bronn, a hint of hero worship. He wanted to make himself an easy mark to Bronn; his initial plan was to somehow meet with Tyrion Lannister through him, believing a few silver coins were a good investment for another possible ticket.
The reward from Bronn meant that his investment was already paid for.
"Sure," Bronn said. "It beats hanging around with those annoying armored assholes."
Rohar let Bronn rumble while he drank. Bronn spent most of his time cursing random nobles, while Rohar did his best to look impressed by Bronn's worldly wisdom rather than the nuggets of information about various nobles.
Like how both the Queen and Tywin hated Tyrion, various annoying habits of kingsguards, and various other details. Rohar also noticed that Bronn said nothing about the king.
Smart. No need to commit treason.
"So, what do you do?" Bronn asked. "You have money. You shouldn't have ended up as a conscript."
Rohar shrugged dismissively. "I wasn't. Luckily, I was lucky enough to swipe a jeweled dagger from a body and sold it." Then, he smirked. "And, in a war, there's always ways to make more money, as long as one has some starting capital to tide him over. People always need stuff."
Bronn nodded, understanding the implication that he was a smuggler. It was a safe lie, as while he was not technically one, he knew who to talk to get some less important stuff. It was impossible not to learn such things after living his whole life in the streets.
Though, despite his ulterior motives, he found himself enjoying the situation. Despite rubbing shoulders with the nobles, Bronn was still direct with low-brow humor, with a laugh made people grin with him while also checking whether their purse was still tied.
"So," Bronn said, swirling his drink like he'd seen nobles do it and decided it amused him, "You managed to leave your stint much richer. Lucky you?"
"It's not like they were paying me," Rohar replied. "You would think that, with all the gold they shit, Lannisters could afford to pay us a handful of silver. But, since they didn't, I decided to take it to my own hands." He shrugged, knowing that Bronn would enjoy the story.
Rohar drank, but his newly acquired agility allowed him to pull some small tricks like spilling some of the excess and pouring less to his own glass to keep himself from getting too drunk.
Bronn wasn't too drunk either, but it seemed to be more about his resistance. He certainly didn't slow down his guzzling even when he shared some interesting stories about his sellsword adventures. Rohar occasionally told his own stories of growing in the streets, though he twisted the facts to make himself more capable and interesting.
He mostly let Bronn talk … until he noticed three men looking at them. No, not at them. At Bronn.
He didn't know why he noticed them, maybe it was their posture. Everyone else was loose, relaxed, and drunk. Those three walked with a precision that made him uncomfortable.
Rohar's stomach tightened.
Bronn didn't stop talking.
But Rohar saw his eyes flick, just once, toward the door. Saw the way his mug paused halfway to his mouth. Saw the way his shoulders settled a fraction lower, like a man preparing to stand.
Bronn kept his tone casual. "—and I'm telling you, if those Tyrells think that they can walk and—"
While he delivered that, the first one already arrived behind Bronn. Rohar wanted to stand up, but Bronn caught his gaze and shook his head.
Then, he twisted and attacked the man behind him with a dagger, his target dodging away, but not before receiving a shallow wound. "Lucky," Bronn spat. "Nice you see you, Johann."
"Bronn," the man said, voice like gravel, his smile vicious. "You finally annoyed someone enough to make it worth my while."
Rohar tensed at his seat, his fingers around his dagger, but he used his fledging acting skills to look scared enough to be frozen. Bronn drew his sword. Other three as well. The rest of the customers, realizing the situation was more than just a bar fight, evacuated quickly.
Bronn leaned back. "That my name now? Thought it was 'ser' when men wanted something."
"Your arrogance is why I'll enjoy this job, you spawn of a bastard."
Bronn sighed theatrically. "At least I don't let my noble bosses fuck my wife whenever they are bored."
Rohar watched Johann's expression. His anger suggested it was not just an insult. He also noticed Bronn didn't pay him even the slightest attention once he confirmed he wasn't with the attackers. Not even when one of the three started walking toward him.
A good reminder that while Bronn was friendly, he was not a friend. Not that he had any illusions about it.
Rohar waited in his seat, making a show of trembling in fear. Two of them attacked Bronn, while the third one got near him, his blade raised, careless and clearly in a hurry.
A mistake. Rohar waited until he was in range, then lashed out. His technique was nonexistent, and against someone with a sword, he doubted he could resist even for a minute. But, his attacker's attention was mostly on Bronn, meaning he was too late to react.
A stab to the neck solved his issue, yet Rohar didn't forget to play it off a bit. "Die, bastard, die!" Rohar gasped as he stabbed him a few more times despite him being death, acting hysteric.
He didn't know whether Bronn could have handled two of them at once under normal circumstances, but with his distraction, Bronn handled them with ease. A quick rush killed the first one before he could react, and Johann fell after a quick duel.
[Feat Achieved! Survive your first Lannister plot
+1x Gold Skill Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Gold tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He didn't need to fake shock when Bronn turned to him, as his latest achievement ensured that to be the case. Lannister name carried a certain weight, and it was a good reminder that poking his nose everywhere could have dangerous consequences. This time he survived only because of the carelessness of his enemy.
The next time, he might not be as lucky.
"Not bad," Bronn said as he examined his situation. "You have garbage technique, but you have the killer instinct."
Rohar took a deep breath, and it was not entirely an act. It was not the first time he killed, but this time, he didn't have a battlefield to distract him. "Living in the streets teaches you to not to miss your chance. You either take it, or you die."
"Well said. No wonder you survived the war. But, find a way to learn how to fight. Not all your enemies will be idiots," Bronn said, his laugh genuine, showing that he wasn't affected by the encounter even a bit. "More wine," he shouted to the bartender. "And some water to wash," he added.
"Appreciated," Rohar said as he went back to his seat, but not before reaching to take the money pouch and the sword. Bronn did the same for the other two. "Is it safe for us to stick around?"
"It is for me," Bronn said with a smirk.
"Then, you don't mind if I leave, do you?" he asked. He didn't think Bronn would kill him to get rid of the witness, because there were many witnesses around.
Bronn laughed. "As you wish. But drop by again. You make a surprisingly good drinking buddy."
"Only if you teach me a few tricks with the sword," Rohar responded, not one to miss an opportunity.
"Fine. You buy drinks, I teach. How about it?"
"Deal," Rohar replied.
It was an excellent deal indeed. Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Chaos91, GoodOldChap and 632 othersJesse_DesireFeb 15, 2026Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 3 View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 16, 2026Add bookmark#51He didn't convert his tickets immediately after he returned. First, he washed despite only having cold water, prayed for an hour interrupted, and activated the first ticket.
[Intermediate Polearm Mastery]
{Uncommon Skill: You are fairly skilled in handling instruments and weapons such as spears, halberds and sickles. You know how to effectively move your body and weapon to make good use of it, being able to match most practitioners in skill and finesse.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
"Thank your for divine grace," he thanked as he looked at the sky, once again more than happy with his reward. Admittedly, skills in archery or swords would have been even better, allowing him to blend properly, but he wasn't complaining.
Not even a bit. His earlier adventure once again showed him just how easily life could come to an end.
And, another advantage was that practicing spear would not be suspicious. Who would care about a random civilian swinging a blade.
His second reward was a bit more ambiguous.
[Light Waltz]
{Common Ability: Allows you to cover parts of your body in a light-like aura that decreases the pressure you apply on surfaces to almost nothing, allowing you to walk on cobwebs or water, but does not reduce the damage or effects you take. Falls will still hurt, but where you land will not take damage.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, system can't provide any power for the abilities. Use them responsibly to avoid overdraining.}
Useful, certainly. It would have been even more useful if it could have been combined with his other ability, but he instinctively knew that it couldn't. He could only keep one active, and switching took almost a full day.
Not to mention, walking on water was hardly a subtle trick even without the added glow. If he used it in the wrong place…
"Doesn't matter," he muttered as he prepared to sleep. He was tempted to go out, pick a stick, and start practicing, but his trial and error with Acting showed the faults of such a process. It would be easier to find someone to teach him.
Especially since his teacher didn't have to be a renowned expert, just someone to give him the basics. Flea Bottom was filled with mercenaries either too old or too injured to work, especially if he was willing to pay with silver.
However, he didn't pick one teacher. He started learning by dressing in his worst clothes, and finding an old and drunk mercenary at one of the worst inns, their wine more accurately classified as vinegar.
A few copper coins had been enough to get a lesson, giving him the basics. The ideal grip, where to hold, the stance, and one basic strike; the instinctual understanding from his own skill guiding him somewhat to correct some of the more egregious mistakes from the poor teaching.
Once he learned those, he went back to his shack, and practiced for a full day, making sure he got a handle before he searched for his next teacher. A younger, less drunk one, away from the first spot. This time, the lesson cost thrice as more, adding some attacks after finding his basic stance satisfactory.
Then, three more teachers, one for each day.
Five days later, he believed himself to be competent with spear, enough to actually fight a guard and win with his merits in a fair duel. He would have said the same against a knight, but for that, he required far more raw strength.
Rohar wasn't trying to save money. On the contrary, he was willing to pay everything he had in his pocket—and more—to get an actual teacher, but he was afraid of the rumors of a genius student.
Even with his disguises, his last two teachers had been pretty insistent about introducing him to their sellsword friends. And, that was with them believing he was learning the spear for the last three years.
If they knew he had been training only for a week…
No, he had no intention of revealing that particular issue. It was also why he had spent another week, mostly working alone, trying to simplify the moves while perfecting his basics.
In the same period, he drank with Bronn thrice to keep their familiarity alive, while also learning some basic sword moves from him. Without the supernatural assistance from his skill, it progressed far more slowly, without raising any suspicion. His agility marked him to be a decent student, and nothing more.
But, after their latest lesson, Bronn deemed that he was competent enough not to kill himself accidentally, and he was good enough to actually spar with others, and told him that, their next lesson wouldn't happen in a bar, but instead called him to meet near the red keep.
A dangerous location for a smallfolk, but it was what he had been looking for all along.
With his Polearm skill, Bronn's teaching was not necessary, but he was still the only reliable connection he had to nobles.
Even more pitiful was that Bronn was the closest thing he had to a friend…
&&&
Rohar approached to the meeting spot carefully, eyes scanning the alleys and rooftops while he made sure to keep his hand away from the sword on his belt. The last thing he needed was to alert the guards protecting the nobles and make them react badly.
His hands were closer to his quarterstaff, which wasn't as threatening, but also something he was much more efficient with.
Luckily, with the war going on, walking around armed didn't carry the stigma it carried before. He stood near the corner Bronn had described, and started waiting. Ten minutes later, he saw Bronn walking out from the Red Keep.
"You're here. Good, you're punctual. Follow me," he said, and they started walking; but to his surprise, they were going toward the Red Keep. A place that he wanted to get in for a long time.
"Are you sure?" Rohar asked, as during the meetings, Bronn had offhandedly mentioned that he hadn't talked with Tyrion since the war.
"Of course. As an official knight, I can bring someone to the training fields. Not a big deal," Bronn replied.
Rohar didn't need to fake his surprise. "A knight? Really?"
His smirk widened. "Oh, didn't I mention it? I have been dubbed as Ser Bronn of the Blackwater by the king himself."
"No wonder you were so smug when we were drinking," he replied. He didn't need to rely on his acting to show an impressed face. For a lowborn, getting knighted was valuable; and not just because of something as nebulous as honor, or Bronn wouldn't have been happy about it. Bronn didn't care about honor.
He cared about business.
Rohar understood the importance of those honors more than most smallfolk, as he had been doing his best to meet with important nobles, but even an accidental encounter was nearly impossible to create. Bronn's identity meant more jobs from the nobles.
And, nobles had money. Probably too much for him to imagine.
"Don't be tense, boy," Bronn said. It was not Rohar's favorite way of being called, but it was easier to fall into that role than anything else. "It's just the training ground. You won't come across the Queen. Or any important noble. Just a bunch of hedge knights and red guards."
Rohar acted like he didn't notice the dirty looks he was receiving from the guards, most pointing at Bronn, but some toward him. Instead, he followed Bronn, his gaze straight.
Then, they arrived at the training field. Bronn ignored the gazes of the other trainees, most of them obviously nobles, and some of them rich enough to believe themselves to be noble. Rohar could tell him easily just by looking at their hands. Hands that were calloused by swinging a sword, but not by hard work.
Bronn threw a wooden stick at him, and grabbed one himself. "Come on. Attack me," he ordered.
Rohar did so, carefully moving forward to maintain the distance. Up until now, their training was limited to Bronn showing the correct way to swing his sword, followed by him practicing.
He moved carefully, staying in a place where Bronn could reach, but couldn't exert his full power, and swung his sword carefully. There was almost no overlap between spear and sword, but it was different when it came to tactical understanding. The importance of grip, managing the distance, watching one's opponent.
He initially didn't plan to reveal that much of his abilities, but Bronn's promotion tempted him. And, only because he believed that Bronn wouldn't connect it to a plan … and even if he connected it, he would have likely let it slide.
Anything that didn't directly impact his money purse, Bronn was lazy.
"Not bad for an amateur, boy," Bronn said as he moved forward, two swing enough to disarm him despite his best effort.
"Really?" Rohar replied, doing his best to sound enthusiastic.
"Not bad. For an amateur," Bronn repeated, this time putting focus on the latter part.
It would have annoyed him, but comparing with his spear skill, he knew exactly how inadequate his blade skills were. "If you say so," he said as he picked up the blade.
"Really, that's the reaction," Bronn replied, looking bored.
Rohar shrugged. "You're forgetting I have already been in the war, and watched people die for their mistakes. If I have no intention to learn, why would I bother with your ugly mug." It was a little bit misdirection, acting like he wasn't aware that he had just admitted an ulterior motive approaching him.
A safe, believable ulterior motive of learning how to fight after seeing the war. It even had the benefit of being true, just not the way Bronn believed to be true.
Bronn laughed. "Well said, boy. Now, again. We won't stop until you can't walk. You want training. You'll get it."
Another bout, one that lasted two more clashes before Bronn moved, his foot hooking his while the hilt landed to his cheek. "You're putting too much distance," he said even as his boot landed on his chest. "Caution is good, but too much distance means you can no longer threaten your opponent, ceding the advantage. Again!"
Rohar nodded. His mistake was clear, as he moved correctly … if he was armed with a spear. One bout turned to three, which turned to ten, then fifty. Bronn never held back, leaving his bones aching and his head ringing.
Soon, he was glad for his improved earnings for another reason. Eating more meant that he had the stamina to continue despite the ache in his muscles.
However, he noted that, every time he stood up, Bronn's grudging approval intensified. "Better. Teaching you might actually not be a total waste of time, boy. You're picking things even faster than I expected. Too bad you had to wait until your twentieth nameday to pick up a sword."
"I didn't exactly have line begging to teach me," he replied. "Who cares about the potential of a bastard orphan."
Bronn nodded. "True. Either you make something out of yourself, or you die."
"Too bad it took a war to teach me that," Rohar responded, not missing a chance to explain his change of attitude even if Bronn decided to get curious and poke around. "Again?" he asked, raising his sword.
"No, that's enough for today," Bronn replied. "We're going to go take a bath, and have some fun. Working hard is fun, but a man needs his fun as well."
Meaning, brothel. Rohar made sure to look enthusiastic at the mention even though he much preferred to return to his shack for spear practice, but it would be stupid to lose Bronn's goodwill over something as silly. It wasn't like he had any problems with brothels.
Also, maybe he had a point. Relaxing might help.
"As you wish, ser knight," he replied with a mock bow, making Bronn smirk. Another detail to stroke Bronn's ego, teasing but not mocking.
It was mostly Bronn that spoke while he interjected occasionally. Only when they arrived to their destination, Rohar stopped. "Is this where we are?" he asked.
"Yes, don't tell me you're shy," Bronn mocked.
"I'm not, but my purse is," he said. "I have some money, but not enough to even look inside. This place asks for gold, not silver."
"Think of it as a celebration," Bronn said. "Today is on me."
That might have been the single most unsettling thing he had ever heard. A cheapstake Bronn, he understood. A generous one, not much. No, he corrected.
A generous Bronn meant he believed there was something he wanted. As for what, that was another question.
"Really? You?" Rohat answered with a mocking tone instead. "Is generosity is one of the tenets of knighthood?"
"Something like that. Are you coming in, or not?"
"Of course I am," Rohat answered. Bronn smiled, clearly happy that Rohat swallowed the bait.
Rohat was equally happy. He had no idea what Bronn was about to ask, but since he was going for the soft sell, it shouldn't be anything terrible. And if it was … well, his recent windfall didn't mean he had forgotten his roots as a street rat. If he wanted to disappear, he would…
"Come and see why I work hard to make money, boy," Bronn said.
It wasn't the first time he arrived at this particular brothel. It could even be considered a lucky place for him, as it was where his encounter with Baelish showed him a better way of engaging Chaos Gacha System.
But, it was the first time he was actually entering. The guards looked ready to stop their state of dress, covered in dust, only to turn that into a respectful bow when Bronn entered.
Just how much money Bronn was spending to get that response, he wondered.
"Bronn, you're here again. I missed you," one of the whores moved to greet him. No, one of the ladies of establishment, he corrected in his mind, as the closer they got, the more he realized just how beautiful they were. More importantly, in her voice, there was not even a hint of dissatisfaction or boredom, greeting Bronn like a lover visiting from a great distance.
Even with his acting talent, he could see no evidence of a lie, meaning she was better than him in acting. Too bad they were too expensive to get lessons from.
"Marlana, you stupid girl. It's ser Bronn now. Our great protector finally gained the honors he deserved."
"What's the difference," the first one asked, pausing slightly.
"It means we can charge double, of course," the second girl said, and they started chuckling, and even Bronn joined.
Rohar's eyes widened, though he looked at the other girls to act like his surprise was about the naked body parts he was seeing rather than the expert show he had watched. The girls looked like they had been bickering, every move they had perfectly natural. The only reason he realized their interaction was scripted was because he had spent weeks dissecting Bronn's personality as well, and knew that the little argument was the best way to pamper Bronn's ego.
They were not just good at acting. They were a master at it. Or, he corrected himself when he noticed at a few girls watching them from the shadows with a serious expression, they shared information.
Rohar decided to treat this place as another battlefield. One without swords or bloodshed, but no less dangerous to a man like him, whose whole identity was lies held up by strings.
Ironically, it was another battlefield he couldn't retreat from, the earlier guard captain replaced by Bronn's amused glare, no doubt linking his alarm to the beauty of the women around him. Which wasn't entirely wrong, as while his mind churned with risk assessment, his body reacted more directly, creating a tent on his pants.
Lost in conflict, he couldn't prevent a flinch when he felt a pair of arms hug from behind, followed by the softest body he ever felt.
"Bronn, I didn't know you brought me a gift. He's cute," the voice said, her hands exploring his body with a surprising aggression.
"Keep away, Ros. The boy is already worked hard during training. Let's arrange someone that won't eat him alive."
Rohar froze, unable to react as Ros' hands dipped down. Not due to the fantastic caress she delivered, but because of another surprise.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Ros
+1x Bronze Trait Gacha ticket]
He had met many minor nobles that didn't trigger the System, yet Ros triggered it. He gulped, trying to process the realization. Either Ros was some kind of secret noble, or he misunderstood some aspects of his System.
"Oh, but I think he'll enjoy being eaten alive, Bronn," Ros replied as her hands dipped down his pants, caressing his hardness.
"I certainly would," Rohar responded as he caught Bronn's gaze. Luckily, he didn't need to fake his excitement. He didn't even see Ros' face as she was behind him, but the way her hand moved was enough to tell him that it would be the best experience of his life.
Not to mention, even if she was the ugliest girl in the place, it would still make her by far the most beautiful woman he ever touched. Add in the chance to better understand the mysteries of the System, and suddenly.
"If you think so, boy," Bronn responded. "Ros, don't kill my squire. I don't think I can find a better one."
Rohar just nodded, trying to look numb and confused, but he just relaxed. It finally revealed what Bronn wanted. Why, he would learn soon, but the title implied that it wouldn't be anything bad.
Well, anything immediately bad, which was the best deal he could hope for.
"No promises," Ros said as she grabbed his hand and dragged him toward a room, her hips moving in a way that Rohar had never believed to be possible.
Suddenly, he realized there were good ways to die … like being trapped by those elegant yet thick thighs… Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Chaos91, Kharchos and 605 othersJesse_DesireFeb 16, 2026Add bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 4 View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 17, 2026Add bookmark#61As much as he enjoyed the sight, Rohar's mind didn't stop racing as they traversed the corridor, though he did come close a few times when some doors opened, revealing glimpses of half naked beauties behind … their timing suspiciously accurate.
Rohar didn't believe he was worth the effort. Even Bronn shouldn't have been worth it despite his recent glory since most of it had been stolen by other nobles. It only meant there was another reason.
He decided not to dig for it. Curiosity was a dangerous trait. One wrong question could ruin everything he built.
His thoughts returned when Ros' hands trailed down once more. "Looking at the other girls when I'm here. Are you trying to make me jealous, Rohar," she whispered, her voice soft and alluring, enough to make him forget a lot of things.
But not the fact Bronn hadn't referred him by his name, further confirming his earlier guess about a plot. But, since he was supposed to be a silly young man from the Flea Bottom, he didn't confront her about it. Instead, he smiled in a silly manner.
It didn't matter that she was a better in acting than him, not when she had no reason to be suspicious in the first place. He doubted he would remember the last detail if it wasn't for the ticket making him pay even more attention to her every move.
"You don't look directly to the sun," Rohar replied with a cocky smirk, deciding to play his role properly.
It was not a difficult role.
Ros continued to drag her, her light red hair cascading like fire over her shoulders. She was beautiful, and her expression was formed perfectly to take advantage of it. Rohar ignored the calculation beneath for the moment, and let himself to be captured in her fire.
He put his hand to her ass, squeezing gently. "Better," Ros purred, her voice a velvet blade, though her perfect cadence another clue for her acting. That was not a reason for him not to appreciate her. The tent in his pants throbbed in aggreement.
They arrived at the bathhouse, a large room, and at a distance, he could see a couple nude beauties, alone and surrounded by steam. "Come along, sweetling. Let's get you cleaned up first. Can't have you bring the dirt from the training field here."
Before he could protest, she seized his arm and dragged him inside the room, the air thick with lavender and steam. A large pool dominated the room, with smaller basins boiling to fill the room with steam, adding an ethereal quality.
A beautiful moment. For a moment, he wondered if Bronn was testing him, a way to give him a taste of luxury, with the implicit promise of a repeat once he did a good job as his squire—or whatever task Bronn really wanted from him.
If so, perfect. It was far better than having a third party digging around Bronn, and consequently, him.
However, despite the risks, he didn't hesitate to reach and tug Ros' dress while she slowly worked on his, revealing her full beauty.
He paused, appreciating her incredible beauty. Ros noticed his pause and laughed, a light, tinkling sound that impacted him as much as her beauty. She was a mistress of seduction. "Oh, bless. It's so flattering to put a young, virile man like you out of commission. Don't worry, love. Ros will take good care of you," she whispered, treating him like a skittish horse, her tone maternal, thinking her mocking edge hidden.
He wondered a different man would have felt insulted at her mocking tone. Not him. Growing him as a street rat, he was used to far more open and devastating insults. Ones that come with such an amazing view didn't hurt a bit.
"Let's get rid of the dust before we step into the pool, young stallion," she whispered alluringly, and tipped a bowl filled with warm water, a soft fabric already in her hands, rubbing his body gently, doubling as massage.
He didn't recognize the technique, but that didn't prevent him from learning it with ease. He closed his eyes, enjoying the amazing massage, not holding back his moans. Massage was already beautiful before Ros decided to not to limit herself to her hands.
Once that was done, Ros guided him into the tub, the water scalding at first, then blissfully warm. It enveloped him, easing the aches from Bronn's brutal training. She joined him in the pool, this time using her hands to rub his body, using some kind of oil that left behind a hot sensation.
"You're tense as a bowstring, my stallion," she murmured, her breath warm on his ear.
"It's Bronn's fault. He's a good drinking buddy, but in training, he hits like a donkey kicks. No grace, but still deadly."
That made Ros giggle. Though, he noticed her voice didn't sound as fake as before. Either she was warming up to him, or she was playing him even better.
Either way, the attention was flattering.
"So, first time in a place like this?"
"First time a woman beautiful enough to steal my breath," Rohar replied. He knew she likely heard variants of it every day, but there was no harm.
"Then, let's make sure the memory it leaves is just as good, so that you visit again."
He sighed in slightly exaggerated manner, as he decided it was a good time to test her. "I wish, but Bronn is the one holding the purse strings. Without him, I can't even walk through the gates."
"Don't worry, handsome. If he's acting stingy, maybe I'll visit you instead," she whispered.
Her response gave him exactly what he was searching for. Not the words, as lies were cheap in King's Landing. No, admitting his pauper status should have meant at least some loss of interest. Instead, she didn't even blink.
Either Bronn was even greater customer than he realized, or whatever plot he found himself in was dangerous. And, with the ticket from Ros, he was more inclined to believe the latter.
They frolicked in the pool, but she continued to treat him as an inexperienced virgin, which started to grate his nerves. He was suddenly struck with a desire to take revenge.
Technically, he could just push her down and slip her, roughly fucking her against the tiled floor. The idea was tempting, but if he did that, she would likely start moaning about how he ruined her for all other men, all the while going through chore list in her mind.
He had a different idea in mind. One that was only possible thanks to his Massage skill. It was merely novice, but paying attention during her earlier massage taught him quite a bit. Combined with his ability to distinguish between her fake and real reactions, he had a chance.
Just as he started planning, he realized he was getting more excited. Not just the physical pleasure, he realized. It was the opportunity to exert some control over the situation.
He let her continue, playing along with widened eyes and hesitant nods, and he put his hands over her body. He started with her breasts, squeezing them gently. She giggled as he played with her nipples, but it was her usual fake, exaggerated reaction.
Not a surprise. He was just testing, reading her reactions just like she was doing his. She didn't react. He didn't doubt that she had many customers reaching her breasts to paw, thinking themselves as suave.
No, Ros' earlier tricks already taught him that focusing a part was not the point. No, it was about anticipation, both in terms of fulfilling and reversing it. He let one of his hands slip down, caressing her belly gently before slipping to her side.
Another fake moan.
He smiled faintly, and let his other hand abandon her breasts as well, and slip to her back, caressing along her back muscles. That earned a much genuine moan, the kind he released when he massaged his own legs after a long training.
Her back was tense … not a surprise with her amazing breasts. It was not exactly pure pleasure, but absence of pain was a good first step. He kept one hand moving between her belly and her breasts, but the other stayed focused on her back, each minute her moans getting a little more honest.
Something she realized soon, if the sudden widening of her eyes was any indicator. Yet, he found her next step more interesting. "Let me massage your shoulders. They must be feeling pretty bad after all that training."
She wanted to move to his back. He didn't let her. "Good idea," he said as he sat on the side of the pool, and pulled her to his lap. "This way, I don't have to stop caressing your beautiful body…"
"Naughty boy," she whispered playfully to hide her slight tenseness, but there was no suspicion. Good. Amusingly, her sudden shift to boy from stallion made him even more proud. It was an attempt from her to reestablish control. Meaning, she lost some of it. "You want to hurry up, don't you," she added, raised her hips, and her wetness captured the crown of his shaft. Another attempt.
A far more successful one, if he was being honest. But, still not enough to make him surrender. He kept his hands exploring her body, but abandoning his gentle massage in favor of something harder to match what she was getting from his cock.
Despite his best attempts, her moans started to exert the same controlled quality. An unacceptable situation, he decided, and decided to escalate. He pressed his lips to her neck, and started alternating between kisses and gentle bites, adding some contrast to her joy.
She whimpered.
It was not a controlled sound. A reflex, lacking the usual musical cadence of her gasps, yet more beautiful for it.
"That's... not bad," she admitted, her voice losing its teasing edge. "Where did you learn how to treat a woman, stallion."
He had to respect her determination. "I had a neighbor, a … retired working woman. I occasionally helped her before she married … moving stuff … and making sure her back didn't hurt." A reasonable lie, one that was impossible to prove.
"And here I was, thinking you are inexperienced," Ros whispered, interrogating him.
"I am against your beauty," he responded, with a growl suggesting he was losing control. His hands slipped to grab her ass, but his thumb moved to her clit, teashing her. "She was pretty in her own way. You deserve songs to your name," he added.
His compliments worked better this time, though it was more about the way he grabbed her hips and let his hips free, his fingers teasing her clit. At the moment, he was enjoying an unusual benefit of agility, allowing him to perfectly control his movements even though he acted out of control.
"W-what a kind boy you are," Ros whispered, but for the first time, her whisper was harried, with an uncontrolled quality. She was not singing, but speaking.
His lips landed on her neck once more, teasing every spot he could find. Ros's head lolled forward, a genuine moan escaping her lips. "Gods, where did you learn that?"
"I'm a quick learner, and not just when it comes to swords," he responded before he returned to her neck. Her muscles melted under his treatment, her shoulders slouching as she stopped acting, and just enjoyed the moment.
She shivered, tensing around him in a way that he suspected impossible to fake.
He exploded a second later.
[Feat Achieved! Defeat Ros
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
He had been confident in his victory from the way she collapsed against him, but having confirmation of his success from a divine source was always welcome.
Though, he certainly hadn't expected it to count as a reward. Even better, it was good to see his mysterious divine patron wasn't as stuffy as the seven, rewarding his unconventional victory over Ros.
He kept his eyes closed, enjoying Ros' warmth as she collapsed against his chest, breathing hard. "Well, that was a nice change of pace," she muttered. "You really know your way around a woman's body. Maybe we should hire you to work with us."
"I might consider if this squire thing with Bronn doesn't work out," he whispered. "Though, I didn't think there was any demand for men … well, not from women, at least."
That earned another genuine emotion from Ros, this time amusement. "Oh, honey. Do you have any idea how many noble ladies are left unsatisfied by their husbands."
"More than I think, since you're —" he started, but then he paused, interrupted by a pair of hands against his back. A pair of hands that didn't belong to Ros.
"Oh, Ros. Don't tell me you're trying to hide such a treasure from us," she whispered, her tongue licking his neck, which was enough to bring him back to life.
"I would never," Ros replied. "Unfortunately, he decided to be a naughty boy and ruin our pool. Maybe we should punish him."
The other girl giggled. "Maybe we should."
Ros moved on his lap invitingly, but before he could start again, the door opened once again, too loudly for it to be one of the girls. He glanced, tensing, only to relax when he saw it was Bronn, his pants already on, and pulling his shirt.
"Boy, we're leaving" he called.
"Really," Rohar replied. He didn't need to fake the annoyance in his voice.
"Yes. I have a meeting I have to attend, and if I have to stop having fun, you're certainly going to suffer with me," he mocked.
Rohar caught his misdirection easily, but he didn't say anything. Why should he, when Bronn's plan was likely the exact thing he needed.
"You're a spoilsport, Bronn," Ros muttered playfully. "Next time when you visit, bring this young stallion. It's on the house for him, or I'll charge you triple."
For the first time, Bronn looked at him in abject shock rather than mocking smile, a reaction he hadn't had when Rohar killed a man to protect him. "What the hell did you do, boy!" he asked.
"A little patience, a little imagination," he replied with a shrug.
Bronn laughed. "Too bad. I have neither. But hurry up, or I will pay triple just to give you blue balls."
"Fine," he replied. "Should I wash to get rid of the smell," he said. "It's rather distinctive."
"Don't worry. The man we're about to meet is the last man that will be offended by the smell of whores."
"Ah, Tyrion," Ros said. "Tell him to visit. It's been a while since he came."
"Sure, if I get messenger discount," Bronn replied in his usual shamelessness. Rohar dressed quickly, but as they left, another figure joined them.
A young man, probably the same age with him, though considerably bulkier. "This is Podrick, Tyrion's squire. Pod, this is Rohar my squire. He's from the streets with no family name, but he's mean with a knife, and a quick learner."
Rohar nodded at Podrick, expecting either a sneer or a dismissive shrug. Podrick was clearly a noble, and expecting him to treat him as a real squire would have been fully.
Which was why Rohar was surprised when he received a respectful nod, one that seemed to be entirely honest.
Interesting.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Podrick Payne
+1x Bronze Skill Gacha ticket]
Even more interesting. Another ticket, bringing the count to three. Far more than he expected from a surprise brothel visit.
However, the payment was soon extracted. They arrived at the Red Keep once more, and Podrick led them to a door that was protected by two king's guards, their armor distinctive. For a moment, Rohar was excited at the opportunity to meet them. Not because he was star struck, but because surely they were significant enough to grant him tickets.
Unfortunately, Bronn chose to insult them immediately, and the guards responded in kind.
"You're an up-jumped cutthroat, nothing more," one of the king's guard declared.
Bronn smirked with confidence, but Rohar was far more interested in his hand, grabbing the long dagger at his back. Worse, he made sure to conceal his grip, meaning it was not an intimidation move.
Rohar replicated the move, palming his own dagger, ready to be used as a throwing weapon if the hostilities broke. He didn't want it, but he doubted that if Bronn fought with the guards, staying at a safe distance would save him from the executioner's block.
Suddenly, he understood why Bronn was willing to take him as a squire. He was probably the only idiot that would take such a job.
Still, three tickets went a long way to remove the sting. If the worst happened, he would throw himself in the water and hope Hydrokinesis would be enough to allow him pull his rewards, hoping for a life saver. Or, if the worst happened, he would have to rely on that ability to drag him to a ship.
Bronn responded proudly. "That's exactly who I am. And you're a grub in fancy armor who's better at beating little girls than fighting men. Now, I have an appointment with Lord Tyrion. I suggest you don't block my way—" he delivered. Luckily, his explanation had been interrupted not by a fight, but the door opening.
And, the queen appeared. A beautiful woman, Rohar assumed, but he didn't dare to look at her face.
She didn't even look at his way as she walked away. The system didn't respond, suggesting that it didn't count as a meeting.
A pity. Meeting the Queen would have certain to deliver a reward.
But then, the most famous dwarf of the seven kingdoms appeared at the doorway, looking tense. "Bronn," he said, then his gaze found Rohar, examining him with a sharpness that surprised him.
Rohar decided that trying to play him was a horrible idea.
"Your lordship," Bronn replied, his tone mocking. Rohar would have been surprised at his daring, but after hanging around with Bronn, he was able to distinguish. He wasn't mocking the Lannister, but the title.
Considering Bronn was yet to be executed, he assumed he wasn't the only one that could catch the distinction.
"And who's this young man?" Tyrion asked, his tone kind yet careful. An interesting mixture.
"My squire," Bronn declared mockingly, yet with a hint of rebellious pride. "A lowborn squire for a lowborn knight."
"Interesting," he said. "My name is Tyrion. Yours."
"Rohas, your lordship," he said. Unlike Bronn, he didn't add mocking to any part of his tone. He wasn't familiar enough to make it worth it.
"Good, follow me, then," Tyrion declared.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Tyrion Lannister
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Godl tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
Rohar followed, surprised by the value. It was not the first gold ticket he received, but it was the first one he received for just meeting anyone. Even Baelish only granted Silver despite being in the small council.
Interesting, he noted as he followed them.