Following Tyrion, it didn't take long for them to get into the topic. Tyrion Lannister was afraid of assassination, and wanted to hire Bronn for protection.
A risky task, but with one party with boundless wealth, the other party with boundless greed, it didn't take long for them to finalize it. Bronn leveraged his knight identity to double his pay, and even got some extra for additional protection that would be provided by him, half his previous rate.
An absurd amount of pay for a man of his meager talents, especially since he still kept his spear skills hidden. Even more surprising, Tyrion didn't even bother asking Bronn about what he could do. He just approved it.
Rohar could only share a confused glance with Podrick, who seemed far more accepting, suggesting it was the way Tyrion operated.
An interesting man, Rohar decided. One that was valued by the System very highly for some reason.
Still, even more interesting was that Tyrion's decision to hire a lowborn to defend him when he was afraid of his life. An interesting choice for a man that belonged to one of the great houses. Though, connection wasn't too difficult to make, especially when the earlier attack Bronn suffered had been classified as a Lannister conspiracy.
The threat was from others from his own house. Rohar might have refused to join such a mess, but since he never had a chance to refuse in the first place, there was no point in thinking what he would have done.
He just have to make the best of it.
"So, Ser Payne," he said once Bronn left with Tyrion, leaving him with Podrick.
"Call me Podrick. We're both squires," he responded with a surprising amount of candor, once again surprising Rohar. He never expected to find a noble that would treat him as more than a waste of space until he revealed his true talents, yet here he was, meeting two at once.
"Fine, Podrick," he said. "So, what are we going to do?"
"First, let me show you where you'll be living," he said. "Then, you can go and move your personal items."
He waved his hand dismissively. "Believe me, nothing I own worth the trouble of making a trip." Once again, it was not the full truth. He managed to acquire some useful essentials with the money he pickpocketed, including some clothes, medicine, and a real spear, but they would serve their function better if they stayed in their hiding place.
The situation he found himself in was not safe.
"Then, I'll show you your room. Don't expect too much. Us squires are not allowed a lot of luxury. It's tradition."
"Thanks for warning me," Rohar replied, though he didn't take Podrick's words seriously. He highly doubted that their definition of luxury was even in the same kingdom. Unless squires were forced to sleep directly in the mud, it couldn't be worse than his shack.
"My pleasure," Podrick responded. "Do you want to spar?"
"I would, but don't expect much," Rohar warned. "I'm new to swords."
That actually earned a surprised glance. "Really?" he asked.
"Bronn thinks I'm too skilled to waste, but I'm not bad with daggers," he said. It was less to brag, and more to show his talent; and not to Podrick. He didn't miss that every single servant that could hear them was paying attention to their words.
It reminded Rohar a pit of snakes, everything shuffling and shifting, a misstep enough to get poisoned to death. The only difference, snakes were merciful enough to kill without torturing.
"Really?" Podrick asked.
"Sure. Do you want me to show you?" he asked. Podrick nodded. Rohar pulled his knife and put his hand against the nearest wall, and started doing the knife dance. An impressive name for a simple trick, slamming the dagger between his parted fingers rapidly.
It was surprisingly easy after some practice, Enhanced Agility and Fast Reflexes combined making it even easier to handle. It worked to impress the gullible.
"Wow, can you teach me," Podrick asked, fascinated.
"Only if you help me with my sword lessons," he replied.
"Deal!" Podrick accepted quickly, like he was afraid of him changing his mind. Like a simple tricks from sword lessons from a noble scion was a deal he would ever reject.
They continued to walk, while Podrick continued to explain him about he basics, including where to eat, where to bath, and some other things to pay attention. Then, he arrived at his room, which was near where they first met Tyrion.
Just as he expected, it was incredible. Thick stone walls, a real bed, a door that didn't allow wind to enter, a real window, and actual lamps rather than cheap candles. If it wasn't for his earlier visit to brothel, it would have been the nicest building he had ever stepped in, let alone living in any fashion.
"Simple but comfortable," he said, not wanting to say anything to Podrick. He seemed sensitive enough to care about such things. "How about I rest for two hours, then we go for a spar?" he offered.
"That works. Unless we're summoned, it's a plan," he said, and left him alone.
Rohar knelt down, lit a candle, and started praying, though he kept his voice low. He had no idea whether his words could be heard in his room, but considering he was in the midst of a Lannister conspiracy, it seemed safer to assume he would be heard.
Once he finished praying, he changed his clothes and entered his bed. Only then, he reached the System, making sure the pages would stay concealed.
There was no harm in a little extra paranoia.
He pulled his first reward.
[Intermediate Kama Sutra]
{Uncommon Skill: You are experienced in the sexual arts, being skilled at pleasuring your partner and being a pleasant recipient. You know how to spot arousal and what your partner responds to.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
His eyes widened. It was an unexpected skill, especially considering the area of focus, but he couldn't complain. For one, two of his four tickets came from a brothel, meaning the skill was rather fitting.
Also, maybe his skills in bedroom could earn him more rewards. It certainly wouldn't hurt.
[Grooming]
{Common Skill: You are very skilled at grooming, taking care of your hair, your hygiene, your cleanliness, etc., basically, you are skilled at making yourself and others look presentable.}
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, skill infusion couldn't be achieved. They will apply as learning bonus while practicing the skill.}
"Interesting," he found himself muttering. It was a skill that he would have cursed a month ago, and dismissed a week ago. But, with his new role, it suddenly turned very valuable. Particularly since, as a squire, he was responsible for maintaining Bronns armor and weapons as well.
He might not ask, but learning quickly wouldn't hurt, as well as further solidifying his reputation as a quick learner. Hopefully, that would be enough to stop others from digging deeper.
He pulled the next reward.
[Antibody]
{Uncommon Trait: You are very resistant to most diseases.}
He bit his lips to prevent himself from shouting. A simple trait with a simple explanation, yet it was extremely valuable. An invisible enemy, one that was difficult to defend. Having resistance against them was a true treasure.
Then, he pulled his last reward.
[Magic Scroll Blizzard]
{Common Item: A magical scroll that when invoked calls on a fierce 1km wide blizzard centered on the user that does not affect them that lasts for 30 minutes. Restock Timer: 8 hours}
He gulped, shocked at the description. Magic, actual magic, one that could potentially rewrite a battlefield.
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, magical item deliveries are temporarily canceled. We apologize for the inconvenience.}
Just like that, his excitement disappeared, just as quick, a great reward turning into nothing. There was no refund, no second change.
Still, he couldn't complain much, not when other three tickets already granted him rewards that were useful, valuable, and with no complications like trying to hide their visible signs.
A valuable set of rewards.
He spent some of his time polishing his sword and going over his clothing … a task that suddenly got much complicated when a servant knocked the door and dropped a pile of new clothes. Nothing fancy by noble standards, likely, but much better than he could purchase even with his newfound silver.
His new job was already paying dividends.
He put his clothes to the best of his ability before he cleaned his face, teeth, and hair. The tools in the room wasn't too difficult to figure out with grooming skill helping him, especially since he had already studied some in his journey not to look like a street rat.
All he needed was a few tries to figure the rest.
He was ready when Podrick knocked the door. "It's sparring time," Podrick said, enthusiastic.
"Sure. Just don't break any of my bones," Rohar replied, with no illusions about his capacity to stand against Podrick. They might be same ages, but only one of them had been taught how to use swords since birth, and which one of them struggled in hunger.
Podrick brought him to another training field, one that was more out of the way than the one Bronn used. There was no knights or guards, just a bunch of young men mixing with teenagers, and even a few kids mixed in.
Even some of the kids had better technique than him.
"Ready?" Podrick asked once he passed him the practice sword, looking earnest. Too earnest for the place, as all the other squires were throwing dirty glances toward him, more than one of them openly grumbling about alley rats and lowborn bastards.
And here he was, he might have misjudged the nobles. Clearly, Tyrion and Podrick were the only exceptions. But then, it wasn't a coincidence. Tyrion might be the heir of a great house, but he was also a dwarf, marking him as an outsider. Outsider enough to employ Bronn due to his competence, or accepting Podrick due to his earnest nature.
Rohar positioned himself, his feet stable, his sword angled perfectly. His forearms still remembered Bronn's 'simple' lessons about the angle.
Podrick took a stance that was more complicated, his shoulders tight enough to suggest a powerful strike.
Another squire nearby, defined by his freckles and arrogance, snorted loud enough to be heard. "Look at that. Podrick finally found a partner fitting the quality of his lord knight."
Rohar didn't look over. Looking over was an invitation. Podrick didn't look over either, but his ears turned red. Rohar was tempted to give advice, but decided against. Getting suggestions from him would ruin Podrick's position even more.
Podrick lifted his practice sword. "Ready?"
Rohar raised his own and focused, the point of his sword pointing forward. Podrick came in first, a cautious slash aimed at Rohar's shoulder. He could have stepped away, but he parried, testing Podrick's strength.
It was … a lot. So, the next attack, Rohar stepped back and to the side, letting the blade pass. Podrick changed his attack, a good trick, but not enough to bypass his reflexes.
Podrick still reacted, parrying clumsily, but it was a mistake. Rohar could have punished it by stepping closer, but he decided against. There was no value humiliating Podrick among his peers.
A quick exchange later, Podrick's hit forced him behind, and before he could recover, a shoulder hit.
Podrick's eyes widened. "Sorry!"
"Don't be," Rohar shrugged. Unlike Bronn, Podrick pulled back at the last minute, making the hit far less painful. "That's the point of sparring."
They circled.
Podrick attacked again, two quick slashes, one high, one low. His technique was impressive as he moved. Thanks to his own spear skills, Rohar could distinguish more, and he was sure that, from a technique perspective, Podrick wasn't too far behind Bronn. In some aspects, he was better.
What he lacked was the killer instinct. Bronn's sharp eyes caught every mistake he made and punished them. Sometimes by his sword, sometimes by a kick or a punch. Podrick was too fixated on his blade.
It made a predictable style, one that he could take advantage of many ways, but not in a public spar. Instead, he focused on Podrick's moves, relying on his speed and agility to limit the damage he took.
Minutes stretched. The yard's noise and the disdain of the others became a faded concern in the background while they fought. Rohar memorized Podrick's patterns, surprisingly simple; though effective.
Maybe he should convince Podrick to ask for a spar from Bronn. He would squish those habits very well.
"Enough sparring," Rohar called. "You understand where I am. Why don't you teach me some techniques."
"Sure," Podrick said, taking a deep breath. "It'll help me recover as well. You are an exhausting opponent to fight against. Never in place, always just outside where I can reach."
"That's what I'm good at," Rohar replied, ignoring the mocking glares that admittance earned from the other squires. "But, there are ways to punish such a style. Ask Bronn to show you."
"Not a bad idea," Podrick said. "Bronn is a very good fighter."
Rohar nodded. Smallfolk didn't get knighted by the king by being merely alright. But, Podrick was making a mistake. Bronn might be an okay fighter.
But he was an excellent killer.
They practiced for another hour before the dark started to creep in. They cleaned up headed toward the dining hall. Servants moved quietly, eyes down. Guards stood like carved wood, watching.
Rohar kept his posture calm as if he weren't aware of the general disgust around him, getting glares from not only guards, but also servants. A few of them were already muttering about dirty peasants, but Rohar didn't mind. Podrick was in a messier state than him, but nobody called him dirty.
It was not about his dusty clothes.
Still, he wondered how he would have felt without the System, without the assurance that eventually he would have enough power to survive the chaos.
They soon arrived at their destination. The dining hall for squires wasn't like the great hall Rohar had glimpsed in the stories, but it was still a feast. Bread that wasn't thin enough to see through or stale, but fresh and delicious. Stew had huge meat chunks in it, and even water was clean and sweet rather than blurry and acrid.
They sat at a long table. Podrick took his place as if it belonged to him. Rohar slid in beside him, careful not to look like he was gawking.
A group of squires across the table watched Rohar with open curiosity and half-hidden disdain. One of them spoke loudly enough to carry.
"Payne," he called. "Does your new pet know how to use a spoon? Maybe you should have left in the stables where he belongs."
"No way," another squire interjected. "What if he bothers the war horses? One of them is more valuable than his whole family!"
"Maybe kennels, then. He'll fit well with the dogs."
"No way. Put him with the pigs. He might dirty the place, but it'll help."
Laughter rippled as they started more jokes about the best place for him. Rohar kept eating, signaling Podrick to ignore it. However, he did put his Acting skill to use; to look like he was actually being affected by their juvenile insults.
If they believed their insults worked, they wouldn't try anything more substantial.
They continued to eat while Podrick nudged Rohar's elbow slightly, voice low. "They'll get bored."
"They always do," Rohar responded, letting Podrick believe his mask as well. There was no harm.
Discounting the constant insult, the meal was a pleasure. After the meal ended, they walked to their rooms, next to each other. Then, before they separated, Podrick looked at Rohar with a boyish eagerness. "So, about that knife trick."
Rohar's lip twitched. "The knife game?"
Podrick nodded quickly. "Yes."
Rohar glanced around, making sure no guards were close enough to care. "You really want to learn that?"
Podrick shrugged. "It looked… impressive."
"It's looks impressive," Rohar said flatly. "Just don't forget that it's not actually useful. I'll promise to teach you as long as you promise you'll only practice with a blunt knife, or better, a wooden stick."
"Why?" he asked.
Rohar sighed and softened his tone. "It looks impressive. That's the point. But if you mess up, you stab yourself. And if you stab yourself in the wrong place, you lose a finger. If you lose a finger, you can't hold a sword right. And if you can't hold your sword right…"
"I can't become a knight."
"No," Rohar cut in. "Lord Tyrion gets me killed for ruining his squire's life."
His eyes widened. "He wouldn't do that."
"Maybe, but that doesn't mean I want you losing your career. If you still want to learn, you learn it slow. With a stick. And you don't do it in front of people until you're confident you won't lose a finger."
Podrick looked back up, serious. "I still want to learn."
Rohar considered him for a moment, then nodded once. "Alright. Let's use your room." In his room, Rohar carefully taught him all the tricks he figured out, from the way to hold the blade to best way to pace himself, though Podrick's progress was slow without extra agility.
Rohar taught him carefully, aware that Podrick's goodwill was the greatest source of his comfort. Luckily, he was a surprisingly nice guy, helpful and cheery, yet with a spine to ignore the mocking of the other squires.
Humoring him was not a chore.
When Rohar turned back toward his own quarters, he threw himself onto his bed, feeling exhausted. Training with Bronn, spar with Podrick … amazing yet exhausting interlude of celebration. It had been a good day.
All he needed was to survive the noble plots.
Rohar woke before the castle did.
Not because he was eager, but because his body had learned that the safest hours to practice were the ones stolen, especially when it came to his spear abilities, ones he was carefully polishing upon the basics he learned.
He was starting to abandon some of the attack techniques that had been taught to him, instead exploring a way to combine a flurry of weaker attacks with his reflexes. His spars with Bronn and Podrick had shown him that it didn't matter how good his reflexes were if his weapon was not positioned to take advantage.
Still, he was careful not to make too much noise, because the silence of the Red Keep was different than Flea Bottom. There was no occasional belligerent drunk, replaced by a horde of servants, moving around silently, making sure no hard work was left to the daytime to ruin the mood of the nobles.
The problem was that he couldn't go out to practice his spear without being seen. And, while his room was amazing and luxurious by smallfolk standard, it wasn't large enough to practice his spear inside.
Luckily, he didn't need his spear. He just held a spoon, imagining the proper length while he experimented with different movement patterns. Without his skill, it probably would have been a waste.
With it, he already had a skeleton of a better plan.
He practiced until morning, stopping only when Podrick knocked to invite him to breakfast. He followed him, and after breakfast, they went to training field. Some squires were already there, but not a lot, showing not many of them were morning people.
He started with Podrick, though he was surprised when he saw Bronn soon after. Before noon counted early for him. His posture looked loose and lazy, but Rohar had learned that Bronn apparent laziness never made him any less dangerous.
A wolf looked lazy too, but it didn't change their ability to rip one's throat with no warning.
He must have gotten bored because he soon took a practice sword and moved. "Alright, Payne. With me. The way you're moving is hurting my eyes. You're trying to learn how to kill, not how to seduce and fuck a frail noble girl."
Podrick's ears reddened. "I'm not—"
"Yes you are," Bronn cut in. "Come on. Attack me."
Rohar stepped aside and watched, already wincing in anticipation. Podrick was young, fast, and strong … and he didn't have a chance against Bronn. Not when he wanted to make a point.
Podrick attacked first, as usual. He had been taught to be assertive and knightly. It might be a good strategy against another knight.
Bronn was not another knight, a king's proclamation didn't change that. Bronn didn't even parry properly. He simply moved his blade a hair and let Podrick's strike slide past, then stepped forward and raised his knee. Not even fast.
Podrick's momentum carried him forward to the attack, burying hard enough to steal Podrick's breath. He collapsed on the floor, wheezing.
"Dead," Bronn declared, his tone almost theatric, which didn't surprise Rohar. For a man that was supposed to be all about coin, Bronn was very quick to get into pissing matches with knights.
Podrick huffed. "Again."
Bronn's grin was mean, but Podrick was just naive enough to take it as encouragement. "Again."
Podrick tried to adjust. Less commitment, more caution. He threw a thrust.
Bronn knocked it aside and stepped in close, shoulder to shoulder. Podrick stiffened instinctively, trapped by closeness, and that was the real mistake. Bronn's pommel bumped Podrick's chest.
"Dead again," Bronn said. "You freeze when someone's close."
Podrick swallowed. "I can't swing my sword when you're that close."
Bronn snorted. "No shit. Punch them, kick them, or just bite them. Just don't let them kill you."
He had already experienced the same treatment, but watching from outside helped. He imagined himself, alternating between a sword and spear, trying to figure out how he would defend.
Bronn didn't fight against the blade. He fought against the man. No fancy parries, no complicated steps. No long chains of attacks. Just a steady combination of basic moves, combined with some nasty surprises that would fit well to backalley brawl rather than a knightly spar.
Rohar took mental notes, already coming up with ways to apply them to his own list of moves.
Podrick also learned … in his own way. There was no attempt to copy the moves, but at least, he learned how to defend himself when Bronn pulled a move. It helped somewhat, but not enough to save him from another tricky parry followed by a kick.
Podrick collapsed.
"I didn't realize I'm paying you to kill my squire," a voice called from outside the training area. Lord Tyrion.
"You don't. This is just a bonus because you're such a good customer," Bronn quipped back just as he poked Podrick. "Are you ready to stand up, kid?" he called.
Podrick groaned. "Not until I catch my breath. You might have broken a rib."
Bronn laughed. "Oh, you would know if you have a broken rib, kid." Then, he turned to Rohar. "Boy, your turn."
"Fine, you cranky old man," Rohar responded.
"Oh, you'll pay for it, boy," Bronn said. Rohar smirked … which was the only positive expression he would have for a while. Bronn's training was effective, concise, and useful.
It was not pleasant.
Rohar didn't try to impress him with official stances he learned from Podrick. He fought like it was a street fight, fast, practical, and merciless. He held better than Podrick, which unfortunately didn't save him from the pain.
He never won. But he lasted longer, and each time he lasted longer, Bronn's grin got a fraction sharper. "You're not total garbage anymore, boy," Bronn said after a sequence where he managed to roll away safely rather than collapse.
"Well, at least you're not only trying to kill my squire. You're trying to kill yours as well," Tyrion shouted as they finished the training. He had been there all along, watching them practice while he consumed a shocking amount of wine.
Rohar would have collapsed already, yet Tyrion only looked slightly buzzed.
Bronn sat across him, pouring himself a drink without even asking. It violated everything Rohar had learned about the court etiquette, once again showing Tyrion as an outsider for more than just his looks. Even his clothes were the same. Expensive, yet not as fancy as the other clothes.
Rohar decided to follow Podrick's guidance rather than Bronn's and stood silently and watched rather than sitting next to Bronn and partake the wine. He didn't need to act to show a subtle tenseness at Tyrion's presence, expecting mockery.
Interestingly, Tyrion said nothing. Instead, he chatted with Bronn and they drank. Unfamiliar with Tyrion's general mood, it took Bronn to speak to catch an important detail.
Bronn chuckled. "You're in a foul mood."
Tyrion drank. "Family," he spat out, his fury clear.
"Ah, that would do. Sister, father, or niece?"
Tyrion didn't answer, but Rohar didn't miss Tyrion's fingers tensing at the mention of his father. Tyrion Lannister. The most intimidating man in the seven kingdoms, with songs about how he destroyed families that dared to anger him.
"You know what's wonderful about the Red Keep?" Tyrion said after several cups. "Everything looks clean until you touch it. Then you realize it's just the same filth, scrubbed better."
Bronn leaned against the table, casual. "That's the whole city."
"Yes," Tyrion said, eyes glittering. "But the city at least admits it. The Red Keep insists it is pure."
He drank again.
Rohar listened carefully, trying to build a picture of Tyrion. His annoyance meant it was a distorted picture, but even that could be useful. Tyrion joked. Constantly. Even when the words were as sharp as a dagger, they were wrapped in a layer of humor. The way Tyrion talked reminded him of the way Bronn fought.
No wonder those two got along.
Rohar caught another detail. Tyrion's eyes drifted occasionally toward Rohar, but not in the way nobles usually looked at lowborn. But, he didn't share Podrick's naive optimism either. Instead, he just saw Rohar.
It made Tyrion far more dangerous than his stature suggested, especially for Rohar's rather ambiguous situation. Luckily, what he wanted was sufficiently absurd.
"Tell me, Bronn," Tyrion said, "if someone wished me dead, and I'm not accusing anyone in particular, because that would be impolite to my own family, how would you do it?"
Bronn's grin widened. "Lots of ways."
"Of course," Tyrion sighed. "That is the problem with being a Lannister. We inspire creativity."
Bronn scratched at his chin. "Easiest? A hired knife at a brothel. Quiet. Or crossbow if you want to be dramatic."
Tyrion raised his cup. "Drama is expensive. My family loves their reputation. They can't afford the stores about me dying in such a disgusting place."
"Another battlefield assassination would have been good, but I doubt you'll step onto another soon," Bronn replied. Tyrion brushed the scar on his face. Podrick also flinched. It told a silent story.
Rohar didn't like the story, particularly since he might end up playing a role in its repeat, but once again, there was nothing he could do. Instead, he focused on their talk, trying to get a better sense of Tyrion. Since his wagon was hitched to Tyrion, he needed to understand him better.
One thing that came across was kindness, reflected in small things. The way Tyrion waved off a servant's apology without biting, the way he teased some of the guards, the way he didn't bark orders like a man trying to prove his power.
His little displays of kindness were even more believable since Tyrion was in a bad mood. Many men would lash out at their lessers to soothe their pride, but the only thing Tyrion attacked was the wine cellar.
And, he did that with shocking effectiveness. The more he drank, the mellower he got, his earlier irritation gone … or at least pushed under the surface.
"And you," he said, tone lighter. "Our newest addition. Rohar."
Rohar kept his posture respectful, copying Podrick. "Yes, my lord."
Tyrion rolled the name on his tongue. "Don't be too tense, Rohar. I'm tiny. Even if I bite you, it won't hurt."
Rohar let his smirk appear. "Not if you eat as verociously as you drink, my lord."
Tyrion exploded with laughter, hopefully genuine. "A sense of humor, good. Bronn, you chose well."
Bronn snorted. "Of course. Do you think I can suffer the presence of another humorless cunt all the time? He just needs to learn how to drink better, and he'll be a proper man."
Tyrion drank as he laughed. "Don't forget fucking. A proper man needs to know both!"
Bronn laughed. "Oh, that's one area he doesn't need any help. Before the kid interrupted our fun yesterday, boy had impressed Ros enough that she had to ask for help!"
Tyrion looked at Rohar, his mouth gaping. "You're lying!" Bronn just smirked. "Really, Ros, the one from the north… Are you sure she wasn't just humoring him?"
"Well, why don't we visit Baelish's whorehouse and see," Bronn offered. "If I'm right, you pay for everything."
"I didn't know you liked to gamble," Tyrion asked.
"It's not gambling when you know the end," Bronn declared.
Tyrion laughed. Bronn looked at Podrick. "Have you ever fucked anyone?" he asked. Podrick's blush is enough of an answer.
"Good point," Tyrion said. "It will be a shame if people realize my squire is a virgin. My reputation as a whoremonger would be ruined!"
Just like that, their midday drinking session turned into a trip to the brothel, showing Rohar that, while working for Tyrion might be risky, it came with its own unique perks.
&&&
Bronn inhaled dramatically as they entered. "Ah, smells like coin and bad decisions."
Tyrion glanced sideways at him. "If you can smell coin, perhaps you should be Master of Coin."
Bronn grinned. "I'm good with coin, but no one could beat the whoremonger when it comes to it. I know how to spend; he knows how to make them dance."
"A good point," Tyrion responded. Rohar watched Tyrion carefully while acting like he paid more attention to the scantily clad beauties. Tyrion looked steadier now, but whatever angered him was still beneath the surface.
Interestingly, for a man famous for his fondness for whores, he didn't pay much attention to the girls, more interested in quipping with Bronn than looking at the girls. Bronn was more fair with his attention, splitting it between joking with Tyrion and enjoying the sight.
Podrick, meanwhile, had gone stiff as a board. His eyes darted too much, as if he didn't know where it was polite to look and where it might get him killed. Rohar recognized the posture. He patted his shoulder and whispered. "Calm down, Pod," he whispered. "They won't bite … well, not unless you ask for it."
"It's not helping," he responded just as softly.
"Look, think of them as teachers. They know what they are doing. They will not mock you just because you're inexperienced."
"Really? Anything I should pay attention to ?" he asked, looking even more panicked.
Rohar paused, thinking about his best advice. He could offer some interesting tricks, but he decided to stick to the basics. "Just follow their lead. They will not say anything about what they like, but they won't hide their reactions. Just keeping your eyes open will go a long way."
"Like dancing?" he asked.
"In a way, or sparring," Rohar commented. "Just don't be rough. Some girls enjoy it, but it's difficult to find the balance. When it doubt, always lean to soft and slow rather than hard and rough."
Podrick nodded, just as serious as he had been learning the knife trick. "Anything else?" he asked.
"Keep your mouth shut," Rohar warned, his voice dropping even lower. "Don't say anything about Lord Tyrion, Bronn, or any nobles, not even if you feel it's completely harmless, or impressive."
His eyes widened. "Do you think they will —"
"Not likely, but rooms here don't have thick enough walls," Rohar suggested, deciding that warning him about sharp observation of the girls was not a good idea. "If you feel like you can't keep your mouth shut, just focus on licking their nipples." Podrick blushed even more. Rohar patted his back. "Easy, right?"
He thought about giving him a few more tricks, but when he saw a familiar face enter the room, smiling like she'd been waiting for them, he decided against it.
Ros approached with that confident sway that made men forget their own names. Her hair caught the lamplight, her dress cut to suggest more than it showed, and her smile was warm enough to make you think she liked you personally.
Yet, Rohar was interested to notice that, instead of focusing on everyone like she did the last time, she focused on him immediately.
It looked like he had hurt her professional pride. How amusing.
"Hello, stallion," Ros greeted him even as she wrapped her arms around his waist, her allure even greater than on his first visit. Then, she turned to Tyrion and Bronn. "Good thing you brought him along, Bronn," she added.
Tyrion laughed. "Oh, hell. Bronn must not be bullshitting me if you're not focusing on the largest purse first, Ros."
Ros smiled playfully. "Oh, I'm sure he's exaggerating. We were just starting to play when your squire interrupted us and ruined our fun."
Rohar let his hand land on the small of her back, gently caressing. "Well, that sounds like a challenge," he whispered.
"One spar, and you already think yourself as a swordsmaster," Ros teased him, but he didn't miss the way her body moved. His newest skill was yet to be properly developed, but the overlap with his existing knowledge meant that he could already feel the difference.
"Maybe, maybe not," he responded, letting his hand caress her back. Ros shivered, not entirely fake.
"Damnation," Tyrion gasped. "How good of a cock the boy has to make you blush like a virgin, Ros."
Ros smirked. "Oh, he has a decent cock, but the real trick is the fingers," she said. Rohar pulled a coin and let it dance between his fingers, showing off his agility. Ros sighed playfully. "Fingers indeed."
Tyrion laughed even louder, his joy surprisingly genuine, though his laughters got a touch hysterical toward the end. "Fine. The gold is worth the entertainment. I never … Ros … amazing …"
"Let's leave the dwarf to his amusement," Ros said with a mock disgust, as ease with Tyrion as Bronn. Then, she dragged him away. Rohar said nothing, too busy enjoying his latest reward.
[Feat Achieved! Impress Tyrion with your 'prowess'
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
A reward that was supposed to be much lower, but one benefit of that annoying low-magic warning, it genuinely didn't matter.
Still, the warning once again confirmed one thing. Whatever divine entity was behind the System, it had a far more open perspective in life than the stuffy seven and their even stuffier septons.
He followed her to the bath, letting her wash him while he closed to enjoy the feeling. His hands moved, but she slapped them away painfully. "Oh, no. We're not going to occupy the bath this time. We have a real battle ahead of us, stallion," Ros whispered.
"That sounds like a challenge," Rohar responded, matching her smirk. She had a point. The bath had been fun, but this time, he wanted to see how skilled she was in a real bed.
After all, he had a new skill to test properly.
Rohar lay on the silken sheets of the private chamber naked, the bed underneath him the single most comfortable he had ever touched. He didn't even know that a bed could be this comfortable.
No wonder Podrick had been complaining about the beds in their squire rooms.
Still, the only reason he was paying attention to the room was that after their quick bath, Ros had disappeared, promising him a surprise. He tapped his fingers and waited, ignoring the temptation to start praying to see exactly what he would receive as a reward.
Instead, he started planning exactly how to defeat Ros once more … plans that stalled when Ros entered the room, her hair once again perfectly touched up, but it was not as impressive as the dress she wore. It was long, elegant, and transparent enough to send his blood downward.
"How do I look?" she whispered throatily, somehow managing to sound even more seductive. She was a master of her art, meaning she was the perfect partner to push his skills further.
"Oh, like someone stole my most beautiful dreams and turned into a statue," Rohar replied, smiling widely. He knew that forming words was not the greatest ability his tongue offered for this particular challenge, so he decided to play it up rather.
Her crystal laugh showed he wasn't entirely unsuccessful. "You're no poet, stallion," she said as she climbed on the bed. "Let's make sure your mouth is put to a better use."
She climbed onto his lap, straddling him with confidence, her pale thighs peeking through the side of her dress to press against his hips, her red hair carefully crafted crown framing her glory. The light from the candles danced across her skin, curtains pulled to keep the room dark.
The light framed her figure, highlighting the faint freckles on her shoulders, the curve of her breasts that rose and fell with each breath.
"You're still thinking too much, stallion," she whispered, her fingers tracing lazy patterns on his chest. "Let go. Your defeat is destined. Just enjoy it."
She shifted her hips once, trapping his erection underneath, riding the side of it. Her hips started moving, radiating desire, her pace perfectly building, only to stagger when he least expected to enhance his pleasure.
It was an amazing feeling. No wonder Ros was confident in her victory. He had assumed she was amazing before, but he was wrong. His victory the last time was the equivalent of his victory over the unlucky hedge knight he had slain on the wall, an ambush that was only possible due to underestimation.
Luckily, he was far better prepared as well.
He had to admit, the feeling was amazing enough that, if his pride was the only thing that was in line, he would have surrendered. But, he had two objectives, each as valuable. One, he needed to make sure he developed his Kama Sutra skill to the limit; as he was getting some unexpected benefits from it. Two, his 'victory' over her had already given him two tickets for no risk.
In comparison, trying to get in contact with Tyrion put him in the middle of a Lannister family plot, with potential death risk.
Bedrooms were far more fun than battlefields.
"You're being a little too arrogant for someone that had lost our earlier battle, beautiful," he responded to her provocation even as he put his hands on her body. He started caressing her body slowly, as if he was trying to repeat his earlier trick, one that only worked because Ros had given him a long time to build her pleasure.
Her arrogant smirk confirmed that she was thinking exactly that. Unfortunately for her, it was a feint. A devastating one, as her confidence meant she didn't bother changing her pace, while he had a full access to her body, caressing various spots while giving a massage.
It helped to relax her, which was valuable for the next step, but more importantly, it helped him to create a map of her body, every sensitive spot and how she reacted to them.
However, doing his best to learn every curve of her body didn't help him resist her gentle yet insistent ride she was giving to him. On the contrary, that made his throbbing even more painful.
But, it was time to change it. He let his hands drift to her sides, but suddenly, the pace changed. He was no longer massaging her. His touches turned light like a spider web, each graze fueling her desire.
Her eyes widened at the switch. "Oh, it looks like you have other tricks, stallion," she gasped, her tone breathy.
"I would have to be a truly stupid man to challenge a master with only one trick, don't you think," he said even as his caresses quickened.
"Oh, are you sure—" she started, only for her voice to turn into a gasp when he slapped her ass. It was not hard, as it was very clear she wouldn't enjoy such a thing. But, it was just enough to make her feel a hint of alarm, making his following caresses far more effective.
He reached up, cupping her face with a surprising gentleness while the other found her nipple, twisting just enough to add another jolt. "Someone is cheating," she muttered, trying to sound angry and put out.
Too bad it only revealed her excitement. She realized that her victory was no longer assured … and that alone was exciting her.
Interesting, Rohar thought. Or maybe not. It was her job, meaning every day was the same, utterly in control while playing coy. Yet, here he was, proving her with a change of pace, turning it into a game.
A game that she had no intention of surrendering despite his surprise ambush. Her hips started to pick up speed, but he adapted quickly, mirroring her rhythm, his fingers dragging along her skin just a touch more, followed by another spank.
Her hands landed on his naked chest, replicating his caresses, her hips rising just enough to show she was changing her plan.
She lowered herself quickly, taking a considerable part of his length. Rohar gasped in pleasure, making her smirk victoriously. Her arrogance was understandable … too bad she made a mistake.
He grabbed her waist, and flipped, suddenly trapping her underneath. "Oh, stallion, isn't it cheating—" she started to say, only for him to interrupt her by invading her fully. "Oh, no," she gasped, trying to sound panicked, but unable to hide her smug undertone.
She expected him to start ramming inside aggressively, to show his 'manhood'. Too bad for her he had the exact opposite strategy. He kept her wrists pinned and pulled back just as rapidly, only to follow up with a push of torturous slowness.
Her eyes widened. "Don't tell me you're tired already, stallion," she whispered mockingly. "Maybe you can't handle me."
"Oh, beautiful, you're right, I'm so tired from the earlier spar. Maybe taking it slow might help," he said, his his once again pushing with the same slowness.
"Naughty," she whispered. "But isn't holding my hands cheating?"
"Is it?" he replied. "I can let them go … as long as you admit you can't handle it."
"Never," she responded, her smile getting smaller, yet turning more honest.
"Good," he said as he brought her hands to above her head, held them with only one, his other hand given free rein over her body. All the while, his hips pushed forward with the same slow pace.
However, Ros was yet to surrender. Her core tightened, but it was different than the desperate grip of her climax the previous time. It was a gentle, rhythmic move, countering his slow attack.
He gulped. Suddenly, his biggest challenge was to resist his own body begging him to let loose, and drill her until he was a shivered husk.
It was fantastic, he decided, the excitement of the game mixing with the primal desire of his body. Surrender was tempting, but he could see that Ros was in an even worse condition. Once again, she was a point similar to their previous encounter.
Rohar realized something. Ros knew how to handle pleasure, but only to a point. Past that, she was just as unfamiliar with it.
That realization allowed him to maintain control, his hips maintaining their torturous pace … until her back suddenly arched, and the way her core clenched around him changed. "Bastard," she growled as her back arched even more, her breasts presented perfectly.
"It looks like someone is a sore loser," Rohar muttered as he let her hands go, but he didn't pull out. Instead, he tightened his grip on her hips, and suddenly changed his pace. His slow dance turned into a merciless drill, ramming inside her again.
"Bastard!" Ros shouted much louder, followed by a loud moan that she had to press her hands to stop. But, she had limited success, her inexperience with true pleasure making her situation even more difficult.
Especially since he was figuring out new tricks real time, the combination of her unintentional mentorship and the learning bonus from the skill working wonders.
The room filled with the sounds of their union, skin slapping skin, her whimpers, his grunts. Rohar flipped her suddenly, surprising her as he took her from behind. A common position, but he knew exactly how to angle his hips to turn his aggression into a victory.
She tensed again, and this time, he didn't hold back, filling her core.
He collapsed to her side, trying to catch his breath while she did the same. He might have won, but it hadn't been an easy victory, a satisfied smile marking his victory.
"No one likes a smug winner," Ros muttered in a dazed voice, poking his side.
"Oh, I think I have someone that wholeheartedly disagrees," he said as he hugged her and pulled her against his chest, letting her feel his quick heartbeat.
"Smug indeed," she muttered, but he didn't miss her reaching to tug a small rope, hidden very well under a small pot. "Maybe I should teach you a lesson."
"Oh, big words from a loser," he responded. "How are you going to win after losing such a spectacular manner," he asked.
"Easy…" she said, pausing for anticipation. The door opened. "By calling for reinforcements, of course."
Rohar chuckled, deciding to say nothing even as he heard footsteps. A glance confirmed it was a familiar figure. Kayla, the shockingly flexible girl who he hadn't been able to meet properly after Bronn's interruption.
Dressed in a tight silk dress, she looked amazing, her walk was as graceful as a dance.
"Oh, Ros. Defeated again? What a shame," Kayla started, playful yet prideful, only for him to grab her waist and pull her to the other side of him.
She moaned playfully as she hit the bed, her silk dress straining. Rohar's pulse quickened. "That sounds like challenge, Ros. Are you sure you want to bring her as reinforcements?" he said, his head turning toward Ros even as he caressed Kayla.
Kayla laughed, a throaty sound that sent a shiver down his spine. "Bold one. Ros, where'd you find him? Challenging both of us?"
"Don't underestimate him," Ros warned her. "He can —" she started, but he silenced Ros by pressing a finger to her lips.
"Ah, no cheating. I already have the numbers disadvantage, let me at least have that."
"Yes, Ros," Kayla agreed. "It won't be fair that way." Even as she said that, she turned on the bed, laying prone … and her legs started to rise until she touched the back of her head with her feet.
Incredible flexibility.
"Wow, no tricks," he said as he caressed her body like he was fascinated by her flexibility. Well, to be fair, he was impressed, but his touch had an ulterior motive, once again taking a stock of her reactions, creating a blueprint of attack.
A map that was much easier to create, much to his surprise … but then, it clicked. Ros was an older lady, with a lot of experience. And while Kayla was not a blushing virgin considering her place of work, true experience took time — unless it arrived from a divine source like he was getting.
His hands moved, this time more aggressively than exploratory, and Kayla tensed. Then, he realized another reason for Kayla's relative inexperience against pleasure. Her flexibility was incredible, but it was likely the thing every single customer of hers had focused on .
"Don't break your pose," he ordered her as he pushed her silk dress to side, revealing her core, his fingers dancing there. Then, at the same time, he pushed his hand through Ros' red hair, gently pushing her toward his waist.
Ros' lips wrapped around his girth quickly, while his fingers explored Kayla's core. "Mmm, strong hands. Keep going," she said, unaware of the impact it was about to arrive.
She realized soon enough, her eyes widening as his fingers slipped inside. She broke the arch, laying back prone, but before she could react, he tapped Ros' shoulder, signaling her to pull back, and moved on top of Kayla.
He didn't pull the same slow-pacing trick Ros had to endure. There was no need. He just started drilling her, one hand pulling her hair back, the other caressing her clit. Whenever she seemed like she was about to adapt, he changed pace, driving her even crazier.
He expected Ros to intervene and save Kayla, but he soon realized Ros was watching Kayla with a mocking smirk. Realization hit a second later. Kayla might have been teasing him earlier, but she did challenge Ros, who was their leader.
Ros was using him to teach a lesson.
Being used might be distasteful in most situation, but this one was pretty much an exception.
Ros stood up, smiling widely. "Kayla, beautiful. I need to get some wine. You can keep our young stallion busy for a couple of minutes, right?" she said, not even waiting for an answer as she walked away, her hips swaying invitingly.
Once again alone, Rohar pulled out, flipped her onto her back, and slid back in, but not before he put her legs onto his shoulder, each push forcing her to stretch.
"You just need to say stop, and I'll stop, beautiful," Rohar said befohe he escalated once more.
"N-no way. I won't lose to that old hag," she whispered back, her voice surprisingly honest, showing just how far she was away from challenging Ros. She would never let such a dangerous mistake slip out.
He let loose. Kayla might be reckless, but she had a reason to be proud. Her body was a marvel, toned, supple, with a flexibility that allowed him to adjust her like a toy. A toy that he used as he wished, leaving her a moaning, drooling mess.
He didn't even stop when the door opened and Ros returned, two more girls behind her. He continued invading Kayla instead, stripping the last remaining hint of awareness with pleasure. "How is it?" he asked, seeing no problem giving Ros a little assist maintaining control.
"Gods... you're a monster," Kayla murmured, her voice hoarse. "I can barely move. My body is just … numb with pleasure."
Ros chuckled from her position. "Told you he was not an easy target, but you insisted," she said smugly. "Luckily for you, I brought reinforcements."
Two figures followed her, one with tanned skin and a lithe body, the other with pale skin and an even more voluptuous curves than Ros.
They didn't even introduce themselves before joining them in the bed. "Let's give our poor little Kayla a little breather, alright," the first one whispered, pulling him to the other side of the bed, while the voloptious one immediately wrapped his shaft with her beautiful breasts.
Ros approached from behind, and hugged him. "Tell me, stallion. Are you still feeling confident?"
Rohar wanted to say that he was, but that would have been a lie. Maybe if he was fresh, but not after half a day of training. He didn't want to surrender meekly, but he also didn't want to brag in an empty manner.
"As a brave squire, I will never retreat from any battle, no matter how desperate. My honor will not allow it," he said, even as he grabbed the blonde hair in front of him, and pushed his shaft to her throat, a little change of pace from the earlier fun. Her throat tightened around his girth.
"Oh, my brave knight," Ros mock-swooned, her hands already on his balls. The bed became a battlefield of bodies, three against one. Then, Kayla recovered and joined, attacking with a renewed fervor to make him 'pay' for her earlier defeat.
&&&
When he woke up, he had no idea about the time. He only knew that it was not daytime anymore. His body ached and he was exhausted, but considering he still shared the bed with three beautiful women, equally down, he didn't feel bad about his 'defeat'.
Only Ros was absent, which didn't surprise him the slightest. Unlike the other girls, she needed to be around to manage the operation rather than working directly. The only reason she attended him the first time to get some information about Tyrion, and the second time was competitive pride.
He didn't begrudge her for deception … especially whether it could be called deception in the first place considering where they met, and her line of work.
Still, the experience was amazing, single greatest moment of his life, and the text floating in front of his eyes just added some extra spice.
[Feat Achieved! Win a one-to-three 'battle' against professionals
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
[Feat Achieved! Become a legend for 'working' class
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, gold ticket cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
One visit. Three more tickets. He should make sure to buy Ros a gift once he properly established himself.
She deserved it.
The supple bodies of the three sleeping beauties was certainly tempting, but he was throughly spent, making any further move unappealing. He needed something to drink.
He forced himself to put on his clothes, but only after he made sure to wear all his clothes, he stumbled out. But, before he could start making plans to return, he came across Bronn and Tyrion, still in the same room, still drinking.
"And, the second hero of the day is here," Tyrion cheered, Bronn nodded with a smirk, and Podrick caught his gaze, blushing. "Two squires, two legends!"
He looked at Podrick, then the two girls surrounding him, both rubbing Podrick's arms with a slightly dazed expression that looked far too sincere to be fake.
Interesting, but he focused on the more important detail. It was the perfect chance to get more familiar with Tyrion. Tyrion was in a good mood, and his exhaustion was a good reason for a breach of decorum. He stumbled to the table and poured himself a drink. "To us, then," he declared cheekily, and took a sip from the wine. The wine was delicious. The second best thing that happened to him today.
Or fifth, depending on the way one counted. Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Kharchos, GoodOldChap and 600 othersJesse_DesireFeb 20, 2026NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 8 New View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 21, 2026NewAdd bookmark#161Once again, he spent a long time praying to the mysterious divine being of chaos and gacha, begging for their grace before he had slipped under his covers, and activated the three tickets.
[Edible Fluids]
{Common Trait: Somehow, in some way, your bodily fluids such as sweat, saliva, blood, and ejaculate, are nutritionally and calorically dense while also being very healthy. They are also taste surprisingly good. Consuming your own fluids does nothing for you.}
[Kung Fu]
{Uncommon Skill: You are an apprentice in Kung Fu, a Chinese martial art that refines the body, that emphasizes discipline, efficiency, and adaptability. It encompasses various techniques, including strikes, guards, footwork, and grappling. With sufficient mastery over Kung Fu, you can enhance your strikes with your internal energy}
[Healthy]
{Common Trait: You are very healthy for your body, granting you slightly increased vitality and virility. In addition, any previous natural health complications you had before getting this trait are fixed.}
Of the three rewards, one of them was trivial but potentially useful, one of them was of uncertain usefulness, and one of them was simply another miracle.
Edible fluids was easy to dismiss compared to the other qualities, even when considering quite a bit of his tickets had come from his naughty adventures. It was mostly useless, as he couldn't imagine a situation where it actually helped. If the lady in question was getting his fluids, things had already reached to a point that would make it necessary.
Or maybe not, he decided. At least it would ensure his kisses would be a pleasant experience, which might prove useful some way.
Kung Fu was the one with difficult to measure its usefulness. For one, he had no idea what internal energy or Chinese referred. More importantly, unlike spear fighting, he had no real idea about the true form, meaning he would have start with common brawling and explore.
He also had no idea how effective it would be once it was developed. Maybe it would be really valuable, or maybe, it would be only a last resort when he was caught in an ambush without his weapon.
However, even in the worst case, it was still more valuable than Edible Fluids.
Then, there was the real treasure. Healthy.
The more he interacted with the nobles, the more he realized just how badly he had been affected by the lack of food. They were stronger than him by a significant margin, and he suspected they would have been faster than him as well if it wasn't for his twin traits boosting that aspect.
Increased vitality, even if it was only slightly, was already a valuable treasure. The promise to fix the deficiencies accumulated due to his destitute childhood, even greater. Any possible boost to his strength or stamina would be good. Improving his agility and speed, even better.
"Maybe," he muttered to himself. "Maybe I can actually make something out of myself. Maybe I can become someone that wouldn't die to whims of a random noble, no matter how strong."
Yet, even as he whispered that to himself, he knew he couldn't hurry up. He had seen many gamblers that had ruined themselves due to overconfidence. Worse, he was not playing with money, but his life.
However, no matter how much he tried to sleep, it proved elusive. The mix of his earlier nap, the excitement of his latest rewards, maybe a touch of boost from Healthy trait added in, made sure that sleep was elusive.
He needed to tire himself so he could sleep. Luckily, he had the perfect tool for it. His hydrokinesis.
He didn't do much. He poured a bit of water to the floor, lay back on his bed, and started moving that blob of water through the cracks in the stone. He wanted to pull some complicated tricks, but he couldn't risk it. There wasn't much risk of getting caught, but since the cost of getting caught would be execution, even the smallest risk was unacceptable.
A blob of water moving underground had no risk of being seen.
And, from experience, he knew that further away from his body the water was, the harder it was to move. Merely fifteen feet was enough to make it difficult to control. So, he just pushed it down directly, expecting it to fade, the awareness from the water blob very limited.
But, even with the limited feedback, it was impossible to miss the sudden shape shift, the pressure of the crack waning, water dropping into a cave.
"No, not a cave," he muttered to himself, realizing the surface was smooth and even. He directed water back and forth a few times, trying to get a sense of the shape.
A corridor.
[Feat Achieved! Discover the hidden tunnels of the Red Keep
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
How convenient, he muttered. Not only another reward, but also confirmation of their value. But, he wasn't surprised by gaining a reward, only that it was merely Bronze. Those tunnels offered a great opportunity.
One that he wasn't willing to put to a test. He didn't know where the entrances were, but it wasn't a big problem. But, being caught while fiddling with those entrances was another quick way to get executed.
Instead, he prayed for good fortune, and activated his reward.
[Avian Ally]
{Uncommon Trait: You have great affinity with birds, avians, and creatures that are aligned with them. Making it easier to earn their affection and favor, and form relationships with them. In addition, all flight feels more natural to use, and flight effects require less energy to maintain.}
"Interesting," he muttered, considering the possibilities before he nodded. In terms of immediate value, it was worthless. Why should the squire of a sellsword knight should care about birds. But, he had no intention of staying that way. Falconry was an important pasttime among nobles, and providing them with superior birds of prey would a good way to ingrate himself with high nobles.
Then, there was the ravens. Any potential ability to train them, or interfere with their operations was not just a gimmick, but a trick that could potentially reshape the wars. Nobles depended on their ravens for communication.
But the risks were equally great. Interfering with ravens meant that interfering with the Citadel, and it was not something that could be done lightly. Only a moron tangle with an organization that could whisper to the ears of the every single lord at the same time.
He didn't go to sleep immediately, but used his Hydrokinesis to map the walls of his own room, checking the cracks. A good precaution, as it didn't take long for him to discover three gaps hidden behind furniture, easily could be used to listen.
It was good to see his paranoia was not a waste of time.
He slept.
&&&
After that eventful day, a week had passed in a weird kind of monotony, his days filled with eating, drinking, sparring, or whoring, all while accompanying various combinations of Tyrion, Bronn, and Podrick.
The temptation to do more was there, but he reigned himself. It was safer to play the eager mini-Bronn, a warrior whose tastes for vice were growing as rapidly as his skills with the blade. He did his best to seem simple, as simple men were easily underestimated.
Eating, in particular, had been a big part. His Healthy trait had been working overtime to fix a lifetime of ailments and malnutrition, reshaping his body. Luckily, his overeating was merely taken as gluttony of smallfolk, easily ignored.
The temptation to arrange encounters with important nobles to get more tickets was there, but the castle was filled with spies. Every servant reported to someone — often more than just one — while squires and knights had their own political ploys. And, since he was linked to Tyrion, any meeting he arranged would be reported to a hundred different parties, and would reach back to Tyrion.
Tyrion was not a man to be underestimated. He was dangerously smart and observant. Rohar could see that politicking was one thing Tyrion would never allow from his followers, not after selecting them for their distance to noble politics. Bronn and himself were obvious in terms of lack of political influence, and despite coming from a noble family, Podrick wasn't any different.
Not to mention, he didn't have to hurry. At this point, earning more tickets were not the most immediate need. Getting familiar with the ones he had acquired, particularly relating to combat was more important.
His spear skills were progressing very nicely, though the same couldn't be said for Kung Fu, as no one in King's Landing prioritized fighting hand to hand, integrating a dagger at a minimum. There was some gossip about popular fighting styles across the sea, but he had neither the time nor the ability to get any of them.
There was only so much he could progress by punching air. So, he spent most of his private training time dedicated to spear, while training in the field slowly turned his sword skills into something half-decent, enough that he wasn't afraid of other squires — though only by relying on his superior speed and agility.
On top of all, he had managed to discover an entrance leading to the secret tunnels, but considering it was in Tyrion's room, it was hardly something he could use casually. He suspected other entrances lay in similar places, either obscure, or naturally defended.
"… so, Rohar, how are you getting used to Red Keep," Tyrion asked while they walked toward his chambers. Tyrion was coming from a meeting, and this time, he was the one that guarded him.
It was a pattern they agreed with Podrick. They alternated, one of them escorting Tyrion to meetings, while the other stayed with Bronn, getting beaten up viciously in the name of training.
A deal that Rohar was happy to take, as walking with Tyrion meant many encounters with nobles, some even throwing a few words toward his side. He wasn't lucky enough to trigger another ticket, showing that even among the nobles, it was not as common as he had first assumed.
Still, that visibility helped.
"The most exciting pit of snakes imaginable," he said. "I have never seen so many people watching my words like I would be spilling secrets. Like I know anything about you … well, other than your favorite whore, of course."
"Certainly," Tyrion said, laughing, but Rohar noticed the slight tense edge. An interesting detail he had noticed, that despite visiting the brothel multiple times, Tyrion never slept with any of the girls, a detail that one of the girls confirmed once Rohar put her in a nice dazed state. Apparently, it had been the pattern since Tyrion had returned to the city before the siege.
An interesting detail.
"Do you have another meeting?" Rohar asked. "I can wait for you here?"
"No need. I'll rest for a few hours, and no one will dare to breach my room. Not with my father here. It would be disrespecting him."
Rohar wanted to ask whether killing his son wouldn't be enough disrespect, but the rancor in Tyrion's tone suggested that it was not one of the times he would be entertained by an edgy joke.
The meeting must have gone particularly bad.
He was about to leave, when he noticed Tyrion freezing at the door for a moment before he slammed the door shut, then not only locked it, but also pulled the padlock. Rohar tensed, as he didn't remember see Tyrion radiate fear to such a degree, nor show such caution.
Rohar tensed. There was a good chance it was an assassin. He didn't rush in, as if the assassins took him hostage, him rushing in would likely cost Tyrion his life. He needed to wait for an opportunity. Meaning, he needed to listen what was going on.
He stood at the door, his back turned, like he was merely guarding. After guarding Tyrion around the Red Keep constantly, no one would question his presence at the door. But, as he stood at the door, he leaned against the door, and opened his flask. A little line of water left the flask.
His control over the water wasn't strong enough to cut through the wood, but luckily, the gaps on the doors were sealed with wax to prevent eavesdropping. His water ability was strong enough to drill through the wax.
He started to listen … only to hear Tyrion arguing with a woman, that how she missed Tyrion, while Tyrion warned her about visiting. Rohar suppressed a smirk, about the leave, when another notification arrived.
[Feat Achieved! Discover Shae's Identity
+1x Bronze Random Gacha ticket]
That was an interesting phrasing, he decided. Not meet, discover. He decided to take the risk and listen … a good thing he did, as each word making him tenser.
Apparently, she was a whore, or at least a former whore that Tyrion had fall in love with, enough that he claimed to not to be with another woman since he met her. Rohar would have dismissed it as just a lie, but what he observed confirmed it.
If that was the whole story, it would have been sweet. He had no idea whether Shae truly loved Tyrion, or decided to seduce him to elevate her status, but even if the second part was true, he was the last person that could blame her for it.
Other details he caught was not as entertaining. Tyrion mentioned that his father would have gleefully execute her just to spite him if he ever discovered her, while Shae dropped another bomb about Baelish showing undue interest in Sansa Stark, significant enough to make Shae concerned.
Cherry on top, it was Ros who had warned Shae about Baelish, which added just another confusing spin to things. He had long realized that Ros was a spy, and just assumed that it would be in behalf of her employer, or others to make some coin on the side.
Having her act against Baelish in such a radical manner was interesting; especially since Rohar could easily claim that he had been informed by Tyrion about it to coordinate with her.
Not a plan he would employ without a reason, as he couldn't risk it being some kind of double bluff. Maybe Baelish had no interest in the Stark girl, and Ros' words were merely a misdirection.
He used his Hydrokinesis to fix the hole on the door before he walked away, but not before he heard Tyrion fumble his words about the subject of Sansa horribly. Apparently, love was one thing that could stall Tyrion's abilities as a wordsmith.
Since Tyrion freed him from his tasks, Rohar returned to his room, once again praying for an hour before activating the ticket.
[Intermediate Savoir Faire]
{Uncommon Skill: You know how to move with grace and finesse. You are light on your feet and you can definitely tear up the dance floor. You rarely lose your balance and can perform parkour. You can also perform flips and manoeuvres with decent grace.}
"Perfection," he muttered as he read the description. The description was frivilous, but not the implications. Balance, quick feet, better movement. The benefits were incredible. Some of the benefits, like the ability to dance and move more gracefully would be useful to get the favor of the nobles if necessary.
But, that only scratched the surface. Better balance, and ability to move around the objects was a surprisingly valuable skill in the city, be it for chasing someone, or escaping from one.
Then, there was the spear technique he was trying to build, focusing on constant movement and distant attacks. Giving a skill dedicated to improve its movement aspects was certainly worth it.
"Too bad I can't get a circus performer to teach me without raising too many questions," he said. "Maybe I can lose a bet to Podrick, and get that as a punishment?"
He then hummed, realizing it was not a bad idea. Too bad he didn't know any circus performers—
"Kayla," he muttering, remembering the cute contortionist that had dared to challenge him back in his memorable evening. They never talked about it, but a little bet with Podrick about learning how to backflip, followed by asking her help during their next trip might not be a bad idea.
Especially since he could just question her while disguising as a part of their fun.
He sighed. "Too bad the brothel didn't employ whores with fighting experience. Getting some spear lessons could be useful." His lack of a spear teacher might be the only real drawback of living in the Red Keep. It didn't matter how good his disguises were when his location had to be known all the time.
Sometimes, tradeoffs were inevitable. Luckily, he didn't have to do anything more. While tickets were valuable, each reward meant the next one was less critical for his success. Once his spear skills developed enough that he could protect himself while traveling, he would sneak into a ship, and escape to the other side of the sea. Maybe Braavos, as a city without slaves where one could rise his own merit seemed tempting.
He liked Tyrion, but not enough to stick around him forever.
It was a good plan. All he needed was to stay away from the noble intrigue.
How hard could it be?Last edited: Feb 21, 2026 Like ReplyReport Reactions:DawNotHere, Kharchos, GoodOldChap and 604 othersJesse_DesireFeb 21, 2026NewAdd bookmarkView discussionThreadmarks Chapter 9 New View contentJesse_DesireKnow what you're doing yet?Feb 22, 2026NewAdd bookmark#174Rohar was determined to avoid any mention of Tyrion's unusually good mood as he escorted him in the gardens for an evening stroll. The issue with Shae's identity was too dangerous to poke his nose in. He wanted to avoid Tywin's Lannister's ire more than he wanted a couple more bronze tickets.
Honestly, just the existence of the risk alone tempted him to hasten his plans to escape, and after he returned, he decided to test a new trick with Hydrokinesis. He pushed his head down the water, and tried to create bubble around his mouth, with a thin like cutting through water surface to allow him breathe.
It was tricky to get right, but he was confident that he could figure it out in less than a week. It was important as an emergency extraction. His latest skill gave him confidence to move around the city and ditch his followers … but not if he was trying to escape the orders of Tywin Lannister.
He couldn't evade every single guard, and even if he did, the moment he left the walls, he would be a sitting duck. He couldn't run away from trackers.
Swimming was a different issue if he was able to stay underwater for a long time. He could just move until he reached a ship already sailing away, hold underwater to be dragged away.
Having an escape route no one would expect was too valuable for a man of his situation.
His mind was on other possible escape plans as he walked half a step behind Tyrion, hand near his belt to put a more intimidating aura. It was the biggest value of a bodyguard, to look intimidating. They rounded a corner where the garden path widened, the stonework finer, the torchlight warmer.
Then Tyrion slowed.
Not quite stopping, but hesitating like he'd seen something that made his irritation shift into something else.
Rohar's eyes followed Tyrion's line.
Sansa Stark stood a few paces ahead, flanked by a pair of guards who looked bored enough to be dangerous. She wore a gown the color of pale cream, soft fabric that caught the torchlight and made her look like she belonged there, rather than being a pitiful prisoner that every ambitious house greedily wanted as their prize.
But, it wasn't her presence that sent a jolt of panic through him.
Beside her stood Shae. One he only recognized because she was telling some kind of story to Sansa, her voice and accent impossible to be mistaken.
She was dressed in a fancy dress that highlighted her exotic beauty. Fine, but not as fine as Sansa's clothes, posing as Sansa's handmaiden. Seeing Tyrion's lovestruck expression, he wanted to curse badly.
If Tyrion wanted to hide his relationship with Shae, he was doing a terrible job. They were sharing a long, lingering glance that shouted. Luckily, Sansa was more interested in the flowers in the garden, and guards were looking around to catch external threats.
Tyrion decided to approach them. Rohar wished that kicking Tyrion for stupidity was an option. Just hours ago, he had been begging Shae to stay away for her safety, and here he was, walking toward her.
"Lady Sansa," Tyrion said, voice lighter as he turned his attention on the redhead. Rohar sighed. At least he didn't lose his wits badly enough to directly talk to Shae.
Sansa dipped into a practiced curtsy. "Lord Tyrion. I hope you're having a pleasant evening."
Her voice was gentle, polite, and carefully measured. She was acting … and not particularly well.
"A garden stroll is always pleasant," Tyrion said, maintaining eye contact with Sansa in an effort to not to look suspicious. A poor compromise, Rohar noticed, especially when he noticed Shae's expression, a sudden, intense jealousy that stayed there for a second before Shae hid it behind a placid smile.
At that moment, he was sure of two things. One, Shae truly loved Tyrion, the heat of her passion unmistakable. Two…
He wasn't sure that was good news for Tyrion.
He noticed that nobles had a tendency to idealize love as some kind of perfect and beautiful emotion, but it was not. Living in the bottom of the society, he had seen so many people tie themselves with love, only for that love to twist into something ugly.
Rohar shrugged and decided to bow to Shae. It was not something he could fix. He could at least see if he could get some rewards. "Lord Tyrion. Maybe you should introduce me so that the noble ladies are not alarmed by my presence," he said.
"Good point," Tyrion said, his enthusiasm surprising Rohar, but then he realized he probably wanted an excuse to talk with Shae. "Lady Sansa, Lady Shae. This brave young man here is Rohar, a brave squire in Bronn's service."
"A pleasure to meet you, good ser," Sansa said a nod.
Shae curtsied without saying anything, but he knew that it would be enough to fulfill the System requirements. All that was needed to be seen was whether it would trigger another reward.
[Feat Achieved! Meet Sansa Stark
+1x Gold Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Gold tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Silver.}
[Feat Achieved! Meet Shae
+1x Silver Random Gacha ticket]
{Warning! Due to low-magic environment, Silver tickets cannot be delivered. Discounted to Bronze.}
Rohar found himself freezing, his gaze stuck on Sansa Stark's face, unable to believe the notification. So, he read it twice more. No, he was right. The ticket hadn't been reduced to bronze, but to silver. But why—
His thoughts were interrupted by Tyrion, who poked him on the side rather pointedly, smirking in amusement. "Maybe don't stare Lady Stark too much, you're making her uncomfortable."
Only then, Rohar realized that he had been staring her too long. "My apologies, Lady Stark," he said, trying to cover up. "I have heard the tales of your beauty, but seeing you, I realized just how inaccurate they had been. I would have blamed the bards, but maybe it's silly to expect their meager skills to do your beauty any justice."
His words made Sansa blush intensely while she avoided his gaze, which surprised him. She was a noble lady, shouldn't she be familiar with far better compliments constantly?
Tyrion's lips twitched. "Well said, Rohar, but aren't you forgetting something?" he said, but he caught Tyrion's warning glance, signaling him to stay away from noble lady. A perfect advice, one that Rohar would have applied immediately …
But there was a silver ticket.
How, why? Was that just a coincidence, or did it have anything to do with Sansa. Too bad that he couldn't explore that while Tyrion and Shae were watching him like hawks.
Luckily, he knew how to distract both of them. "You're right, my lord. It's rude for me to focus on Lady Sansa when Lady Shae here is also a vision of loveliness, radiating her presence just like a flower in the garden."
He made sure to keep his voice flat while he said that, and twice he caught Sansa's gaze, making it obvious that he was only doing it due to obligation, and he was captivated by Sansa.